Mistress is best

"My name, to you, is no longer Pamela, unless there is a Mistress
before it. Understand?"

He mewed his answer in that high-pitched, feminine voice she had
required of him. "Uh huh, uh-huh-uh-huh," always ending with an up-
note, as if asking a question. When she was asking him to do something
to humiliate himself, that questioning note meant that he was asking if
she would grant him the privilege of carrying out whatever order would
be issues.

"You, on the other hand, will be called any number of names, whatever I
feel like using at the time. Pussy, cunt, bitch, slut, Missy, Sissy,
Prissy...I like that one...Prissy. Cocksucker, ass licker. But, usually
when it's just the two of us together, I'll simply call you 'slave'."

He was just beginning his training at the hands of his wife, Pamela,
who, having shared his recent lottery winnings, quickly filed numerous
court actions. And, somehow, she stripped him not only of the millions
of dollars he had won, but "bought" him back by offering him a way out
of his penniless destitution. He loved her so much he was almost
hypnotized by her; not just her voluptuous beauty, but her temperament
- bossy, bitchy, almost a nymphomaniac, a tease and exhibitionist and a
flirt. She was also bi-sexual, but when it came to women, she was a
total submissive to a dominant bi or lesbian. That was in sharp and
total contrast to her treatment of her husband and most other men.

"Now, Sissy-slave, we're going to begin to train you in how to conduct
and comport yourself when in my presence."

He teetered, up on his toes, barefoot, masturbating his cock, bound
along with his balls. It was simple. A length of cord tied around his
entire scrotum and pulled tight, a knot tied at the top. At that stage,
his cock would begin to harden and become erect immediately. From that
knot, the cord was then looped around the root of his cock and behind
the first knot, tied tightly again. Then, both ends of the cord were
pulled through his legs, back up the crack of his ass, intertwined
once, then each end reaching around his waist from the small of his
back to just below his navel. Tied tight again with a bow knot. At the
bottom of the original circle of cord around his scrotum was a small
loop, holding a ring-binder that could be opened and closed and
interchanged with ones of numerous different sizes. A hasp hung from
that to his knee hobbles, two large dog collars, connected with another
ring-binder. The hasp connected his scrotum to the ring-binder between
his knees. That pulled his cock down (it was seldom allowed to be even
horizontal, much less pointing up. Having it pointing down meant
submission).

He faced the mirror at one end of the large, open, tile-floored
kitchen, and saw himself from behind in the opposing mirror, set at
just the right angle so, that as he moved back and forth, he would be
able to watch both images.

Early on in this relationship, she had given him a list of "Basic
Rules" that he followed

1. He will always be in his basic restraint, his cock and ball bondage,
hasp and knee hobbles.

2. Whenever in her presence, he must masturbate at all times, openly
and shamelessly.

3. He will always be in high heels or bare feet. When his feet are
bare, he will be on tip-toes. The only time either foot is allowed to
be flat, is when he is doing a chore that requires a lot of balance.
Only one foot is allowed flat at any time, the other one going up even
higher on tip-toes, as if posing.

4. He must mince around in an exaggerated, feminine way, his back
arched, chest out, ass sticking out, knees slightly bent, to accent his
buttocks sticking out.

5. Each foot must be placed precisely in front of the other, toes
either straight ahead, or angled slightly out, like a model and,
because of his knee hobbles, each step was very small.

6. He was never allowed to cum without a direct order from his
Mistress, which was "shoot."

7. He always came into or onto something, and either ate it then, or it
was saved, smeared onto a variety of objects, including the straps and
soles of her high heels for consumption by him sometime after it had
dried.

"All right, cunt, now lets practice walking an imaginary tightrope.
Remember, you have to look at the back image, not just the front, so
you can watch your steps in the reflection behind you."

Of course, that made it much more difficult for him to concentrate. Not
only that, but so did his raging need to cum. She kept him at the very
edge of spurting out his cum during these training sessions. Even at
other times, alone or when she was putting on an exhibition of him, he
had to cum very quickly when given the "shoot" command.

"Walk, pussy-slave." A slash of the thin, whippy cane on his buttocks
was the order to begin. "Walk" was the basic movement he made. He began
slowly, placing each foot in front of the other, making sure that his
toes and the balls of his feet hit the floor precisely, jacking off and
watching himself being humiliated, but loving the attention that came
with being humiliated.

"When I tell you to stop, slowly do a "Pose" turn, then "Prance" and
"Salute" your Mistress on your way back." The order was followed by
another slash. She followed alongside him, the cane tapping on his
buttocks, occasionally giving him a slash when he tottered, or a
lighter one when she encouraged him.

"Good, pussy-mouth. Very good. Okay, keep it up. Good."

He was approaching the large mirror in front of him, watching himself
masturbate, paying attention to the "Walk" he was doing. He was close
enough to the mirror and Pamela was standing back far enough so that he
could see her, and of course, his eyes never met hers unless he was
ordered to look at her. A thrill of love and devotion swept him as well
as further sexual excitement. She was in strappy stilettos, that
special leather costume which had thin leather strips around each
massive breast, holding them up and straight out; the special double-
ended dildo bobbing slightly with her every move, and with each bob,
the end stuck in her pussy moving and exciting her as well, she was
already breathing heavily.

He "Posed" as he turned, placing each footstep slightly to the side, so
that he turned after 5 tiny steps as if on a rotating pedestal.

He began the return trip, following the order to "Prance." That meant
that he raised each knee as high as possible, which was only a matter
of two inches, and slapped the toes and balls of his feet to the floor
with each step. After a few steps, she strode in front of him and
clipped a chain dog leash to the ring behind his balls holding the hasp
to his knee hobbles. She tugged at it and kept it tight, slowly walking
backwards toward the mirror, allowing him to see her every move and
every move of the dildo. Her cane was now tapping his tits for
encouragement and slashing them for prodding, though less harsh then
when she slashed his buttocks.

"Now, salute your Mistress," she commanded.

He grasped his cock with the thumb and fingers of both hands just
behind the head and pulled it straight up, continuing to jack himself
off. Oh, God, please Mistress, order me to cum for you.

"Very good, footslave." That meant that he was to look only at her
beautiful feet. They were small, with a high arch and perfect toes, all
encased in those black, strappy stiletto high-heels. "You love your
Mistresses' feet, don't you, footslave?"

"Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh", he answered in an even more pleading and
urgent tone.

"You love your Mistress, don't you, you little slut bitch?" That name
usually meant that he was going to get a good ass-fucking. He again
responded, whining and moaning, on the very verge of ejaculating, but
of course, he has to hold it back until the "shoot" order, but all the
while, continuing to masturbate himself with both hands in the "Salute"
posture.

"When do you tell your Mistress that you love her, slave."

"When I make you cum, Mistress Pamela, and when I receive the order to
shoot, and while I shoot and whatever else you order me to do with my
mouth at that time."

"Now, finish it off with the "Trot."

He immediately began the Trot movement, actually jumping up and down
with each bouncing, tiny step, continuing to concentrate on jacking
off, not cumming... A slash across each nipple was followed by more
prodding from Pamela.

"Come on, slave, higher. You can do better than that." He increased his
efforts and was rewarded with light taps on his tits and continued on,
feeling the tension on the leash she pulled and tugged on.

"Very good, slave. Good. Now, finish it up with a good flourish. I want
to see you really Gallop, now." He started trotting even faster, she
tugging on his leash, pulling him along, bouncing, moaning and mewing
in an increasing sexual frenzy as Pamela moved to his side to allow him
to watch himself. As he approached the mirror in front of him,
furiously jacking his cock in the salute position with both hands, she
commanded, "Halt and keep pose-turning.'

As he slowly turned, taking those tiny side steps, he watched himself
in both mirrors, no matter which mirror he faced.

"All right, cocksucker, I'm going to give my slave a treat from his
Mistress. Get down, bitch."

He quickly undid the dog collars around his thighs just above his knees
and unclipped the hasp from the ring behind his scrotum, his full balls
nearly bursting with cum. He lowered himself to his knees, still
jacking off, then sat back, putting his buttocks on his heels. He was
never allowed to form a seat for himself by bending his toes, raising
his heels. He had to bend his ankles, keeping his feet parallel with
his shins. He quickly spread his knees as far apart as he could while
Pamela tugged playfully on his leash.

"Now, give me a good blowjob, sissy bitch, and I'd better have a giant
orgasm."

He immediately put his mouth around the hard rubber dildo, authentic in
every detail, from the head to the small pee-hole at the end of the
head, tight balls pressed tightly against Pamela's pussy lips. Moaning
and slurping, he bobbed his head back and forth while she lovingly
stroked, then pulled his hair. She was panting now, as ready to cum as
he was, and grabbed him by both ears, moving his head around, which
allowed her to fuck his mouth with the dildo instead of him bobbing his
head in and out. The dildo had a large circumference and was a good
eight inches long and she began to deep-throat him, now pumping her
hips furiously all the while stimulating herself with the other end of
the dildo up her cunt.

"Ah...ah...ah...oh, yes bitch, take it down your throat.
Yes...yes...eeee... ah..." She had the entire dick in his mouth and
down his throat, his nose against the hair above her pussy and she was
grinding the base of it against his lips and teeth and in turn,
grinding the special receptacle against her vagina. As she began
cumming, yelling obscenities at him, she began slapping his face very
hard with open hands, first one, then the other and his eyes began to
tear, then he was actually crying as she continued to ride the wave of
her orgasm and to slap his face. She loved to see him cry, like the
little sissy-baby he was under her dominance and that further
heightened the crest she had reached as wave after wave or orgasmic
spasm shook her cunt, her body, her mind as she watched her slave cry
shamelessly, cock deep in his throat, still holding his breath but
moaning and grunting as loudly as she was, taking the blows and loving
them.

She was coming down now, each wave lessening a bit and she shivered
slightly, now letting out her breath in pants while she withdrew the
dildo from his mouth until just the head remained for him to suck on.
He caught his breath in deep snorts and pants through his nose while
his tongue and lips continued to work on the head of the dildo.

Abruptly, she withdrew the cock and gave him the command, "Mouth." He
raised his head, opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue, which
he always did on receiving the mouth order, never knowing what awaited
him.

She began to piss into the bulb of the dildo pressed against her pussy,
and it flowed into the hollow "balls", and as she did, the waves or
orgasm began cresting again, at the thought of what was coming to her
slave, and for his reward.

When she was finished, she deftly grabbed the dildo with one hand and
with the other, grabbed the balls and squeezed, sending a hot stream of
her pungent urine first onto her slave's face, then into his open
mouth. He moaned loudly with pleasure, loving the act, loving the
taste, loving the hot liquid hitting and splashing on his face, loving
the act of swallowing Pamela's fresh, hot piss while she watched.

He drank every drop of it, then, with no prompting, took the head of
the cock into his mouth again and sucked the remaining golden, salty
liquid from its hollow tube.

When she was satisfied that he had drained it dry, she withdrew it,
grabbed his leash and began walking to the bar. He was forced to hump
and hunch himself along the floor in the position he was in, still
jacking off like mad, following her, leering at her beautiful feet in
those sexy shoes, hearing the click-click on the floor, not paying any
attention to the discomfort to his knees, ankles and feet.

Reaching one of the leather-covered bar seats, she looped the end of
the leash around the chrome ring around the legs; about 6 inches from
the floor, then walked to the refrigerator behind the bar and got out a
drink he had made for her earlier.

She took off the straps that held the dildo in place, and slowly
withdrew the inserted end from her cunt, at the end, causing a wet,
slippery sucking sound as it finally slid out. Grabbing the leash, she
mounted the seat, thrilling at the feel of the cool, smooth leather
against her buttocks. She leaned back, sighing loudly, spread her legs
wide and held the dildo between her knees and ordered him to clean it.
It had already begun to dry and he had to thoroughly suck it again to
get it wet, then lick and suck the sticky mixture of pussy juice and
piss from it, again moaning and slurping loudly to signal his pleasure
at being ordered to perform the task.

She lowered the pneumatic seat with the lever underneath it and ordered
him to back up a bit. When he did, she daintily placed the toes of one
of her shod feet between his legs. "Now, footslave, put the head of
your cock on those toes and straps. Work it around, back and forth and
get ready." He gazed at those lovely, red-coated toenails, the toes
compressed tightly together by the thin straps, marveling at the high
arch, the perfect heel and ankle combination.

"Speak, slave."

"Oh, please Mistress Pamela, please, please order me to cum on your
toes, please?", and continued to moan and groan and beg, now crying
copiously, tears streaming down his face, sobbing, and still working
his hand on his cock. Any other man would have shot his load long ago
with this level of stimulation, but he had been able to hold his cock
at its stiffest rigidness, on the very brink of cumming and jacking it
the entire time obeying the basic rule that he couldn't cum without a
direct order from Pamela.

"All right, honey. I want you to begin counting down, very slowly, from
ten to one. When you reach one, and then when I give the order, you had
better cum at that instant. Are you ready, sweetie?" In answer, he
began rubbing his cock back and forth across her toes and jacking it
even quicker than before.

"Ten...nine...eight...seven..." "Stop! I want to relax a bit. Hold
yourself together while I take a sip of my drink." Stop meant stop the
count, not from jacking off, of course. She lolled on the seat, keeping
her dainty toes under the head of his cock, feeling the slick pre-cum
rubbing against the soft skin of the tops of her toes through the
straps of her heels. She lit a cigarette and took several sips of her
drink, watching her husband continue to debase himself for her, in
front of her.

"All right. Start again where you left off." He picked up the count,
repeating the last number he had recited, number seven, then continued
the slow countdown.

"What are you going to do for me if I order you to cum, slave?"

"Anything, Mistress Pamela. Anything you want me to do, please
Mistress. Tell me what you want me to do if you order me to cum. Oh,
please Mistress, please?"

"How about a good fuck for my sissy-bitch later tonight? Would you like
Michael to give you a good fuck tonight?"

"Yes, please Mistress, order me to take a good fuck from Michael
tonight Mistress, please?"

"Good. Then after you clean him off, you're going to take a good fuck
from me. Aren't you, pussy-bitch. Now start the count again. You'd
better be ready, slave."

"Three...two...one..." and he waited, jacking his cock madly now, mad
with the passion and the urgency to cum onto his Mistresses' toes. He
was waiting, every fiber of his body and mind waiting for that one word
which would release him, allow him to release the pent-up frenzy, the
cum he was desperately holding inside.

"SHOOT!", and he immediately began spewing, pumping out gob after gob
of slick, pearlescent semen from the head of his dick onto her toes and
straps of her shoes. "Oh, God, Mistress, I love you so much. Oh, ah, I
love you Mistress," he managed to moan and groan while he spent the
load from his tightly-encased balls onto and for the object of his
adoring love.

My Wife, My Mistress #2

After being allowed to rest for a half-hour, sprawled at Pamela's feet,
while she smoked and sipped at her drink, he again grabbed his cock,
never really flaccid because of his bondage and his mentality, now
ingrained in his very soul: to be ready to have a hard cock, at least
semi-hard, so that with a minimum of masturbation and her control over
his fantasies, he would be ready to carry out any order she gave. But,
the primary order was to never have a totally flaccid cock. He gazed at
her lovely feet, her high heels, now covered with his cum, only inches
from his face and mouth. He waited for her next order. She was sipping
her drink and smoking and again, starting to play with her cunt.

"Get up, Slave." He stood up unsteadily, then immediately got up on his
toes, his penis twitching awake in anticipation. He faced her and began
stroking it and within ten jacks, it was full again, if not erect.

"Clip yourself up and bring me another pair of heels, bitch." He
retrieved the leg collars and the hasp and clipped it to the ring
between his knees. Before scurrying off her asked which pair she would
like him to bring from her master closet, where she had at least one-
hundred pair.

"The red patent strappies. You'll know which ones because of the thick
film of cum on them. They need cleaned, don't you think so, foot-
slave?" He was already prancing off toward her bedroom, his dick hard
again as he jacked it with every step. He loved cleaning her shoes of
his cum, in many instances, of a lover's cum. As he entered her large
bedroom, he saw himself reflected on numerous floor-to-ceiling mirrors
and pranced prettily, posing and turning, watching his stuck-out butt,
his nice legs, his turned ankles, up on tip-toes. Opening one of the
walk-in closets, he spied the shoes she wanted, snatched them up and
bunching the toe straps from both shoes in his mouth, pranced back into
the kitchen, making sure with each step, he jacked his cock and patted
the ball of each foot onto the tile floor with every step. He could
already taste the sweet cum his saliva had moistened on the straps in
his mouth as he stopped in front of Pamela, ready to do her bidding.

"Take these off. Put them aside for now and place those filthy things
on your Mistresses' feet." Again, he undid his devices and shed the
collars around his legs, so that he could kneel, which he quickly did.
Her shoes were very high-heeled spikes with a buckled back strap. As
she held out first one shoe, then the other, he undid the buckle and
while she lifted the sole of each shoe to his mouth, he took the heel
between his teeth, the sole against his forehead, and gently pulled
them off, placing them carefully on the floor beside her bar stool,
standing upright.

"Give me one of those," she said, meaning the shoes dangling from his
mouth. He handed one up to her. She placed the sole on his forehead
while he took the heel between his teeth and bent back, giving her the
angle she needed to slide her foot into it, an inch from his eyes,
nose, mouth, his face. She repeated the process with the other shoe.
She raised the bar stool so that when she crossed her legs, the higher
shoe was at the level of his mouth in his kneeling posture.

"You want to cum for me again, don't you, foot-slave?"

"Oh, yes, Mistress. Please Mistress, let me cum again tonight,
Mistress, Please," and began moaning and mewing again.

"Maybe. We'll see. Now, cum-eater, begin cleaning," and she started
fingering her pussy with one hand, gently playing with her nipples with
the other.

He gingerly lowered his mouth to the toe of her shoe, to her bright-
painted toes, wanting to lick and suck and mouth them. But, he had a
task to perform first. He must gently lick his dried cum from each
individual strap without touching the white, delicate skin that lay
underneath. He had to get just the right amount of saliva onto each
strap without any of that touching her skin... It was a delicate
process if he wanted to get to those beautiful feet that he worshipped.
She did nothing to help him - he had to move his head from side to
side, toward the top of her high instep and back and she occasionally
shifted in her seat, moving her shod foot carelessly away from his
working mouth. He tasted the sweetness of the cum, not knowing if it
was his or a lover of hers. It all tasted very good, delicious to him.
He had come not only to accept eating male juice, especially dried
juice, but to acquire a taste for it. His eyes were only an inch away
from that beautiful, soft skin peeking out of every strap, her toe
cleavage, the tips of her toenails, wanting to plunge his tongue
between the straps and actually lick that flesh, but first he had to
clean each and every strap of that cum and still might not be ordered
to clean her feet. He desperately wanted to clean her feet - he knew
they would be very pungent smelling and have that combination of sweat
and leather taste. He was only ordered to clean them once a week and
his cleaning was the only washing her feet received, and she often wore
pumps during the week, which built up that taste and smell he longed
for and wallowed in when she finally ordered a thorough cleaning.

"You may now continue your cleaning chores, bitch." He eagerly began to
stick his tongue between the straps of the shoes, running his tongue as
best he could under her toenails, trying to lick the cleavage of her
toes, loving the feel and taste of her soft, white skin, again slurping
and moaning loudly, to signal to her that he appreciated cleaning her
feet. Even now, with touching a minimum of her skin, he could taste the
salt, sweat and leather mixture and, because of the moistening of that
skin, the powerful aroma, very erotic to him. As he worked his way from
the front to the last of the straps in back, she pointed the toe of the
shoe, lifting her arch from the insole. He plunged his tongue, very wet
now, licking as far as his tongue would reach under her arch, waving
his head back and forth. When she thought he had finished with that,
she raised her toes, which lifted her heel off the insole and he again,
did his best to clean it as far as his wet, sloppy tongue would reach.
She shifted in her seat, playing with herself all the while, and he
repeated the process on her other foot and shoe.

"All right, cunt. Take these shoes off and lay down on your back under
my feet. I want the full treatment using your filthy mouth as my
personal pumice stone. Put your knees on your chest and continue to
jack off for your Mistress while I watch you."

He did as he was told and she placed one foot on his face, the toes on
his lips and he began his cleaning chore in earnest, first licking on a
lot of his spit, then hungrily sucking and licking it off, masturbating
furiously with one arm on the outside of his thigh reaching around his
knee to his very hard cock. Now, the aroma was as strong as the taste
and that further excited his sexual arousal as he lapped and sucked and
sucked and lapped while she occasionally sipped at her drink and smoked
and stroked her wet pussy and gently pinched her erect nipples. "Do a
good job between my little toesies footslave, and be sure to get any
debris."

He started gently probing his tongue between her toes and the taste and
smell became even stronger, especially the sweat smell. As he slid his
tongue in and out of the tight crevices, he gathered the combination of
toe jam and lint and what not that had been trapped there for a week
and swallowed all of it, reveling in his servitude, his adoration and
obedience to her. As was she, cumming from time to time, shuddering
slightly in small waves as she watched her husband clean her dirty feet
and jack off for her pleasure. She moved her foot slightly forward and
he immediately took as much of the ball of her foot between his teeth
and after wetting it thoroughly, began scr****g off the dead skin with
both sets of teeth in a slow, easy gnawing, swallowing the dead skin
and thrilling with pleasure and appreciation of this Goddess, this
woman he absolutely worshipped, who used and abused him for her
pleasure and sexual stimulation. They were a perfectly matched pair -
she getting sexually aroused at the filthy things she made him do, he
getting sexually aroused for the same reasons. When he felt the skin
sufficiently smooth, he tilted his head back and cleaned her arch until
he reached her heel. He opened his mouth and took in as much of it as
he could, noticing a lot more roughness than on the ball of her foot
and chewed and gnawed and moaned and groaned and swallowed it all while
she continued to ride the small waves of her continuing orgasms,
watching him continue to stroke his very hard cock, seeing his tightly
encased balls that, with their bondage, resembled one large peach, and
full once again of his liquid slime that he would eventually ingest.
From time to time she would move her foot off to the side, and leaning
over, spit large gobs of her saliva onto his face, then rub her foot
and smear it all over his face, to "help" him do a better cleaning job.

He was presented her other foot and repeated the entire process,
starting again with her toes, then the ball of it, the high arch, then
her heel. The entire chore took over half-an-hour before he was
abruptly denied any more contact with her beautiful feet, now clean of
smell and taste and smooth again...

"Now, put on the shoes you have just cleaned, and make sure my pretty
feet slide into them easily, or I'll banish you to your cage for the
rest of the evening, ass-cleaner." He raised his torso up, turned onto
his knees and picked up the strappy heels and held them up to her and
she leaned over and spit a copious amount of her saliva onto both of
them. He again put each heel into his mouth, the soles on his forehead
and she slid each foot into them, squirming her toes back and forth as
she did so, enjoying the warm, wet feel of her feet on the leather of
the insole and the inside of the straps... As each foot was encased in
his shoe, heel still in his mouth, he secured the back straps of each
one.

"Now, move back a bit," she ordered, and slid off the leather seat of
the bar stool as he released his grip on the heel of her shoe. There
was a large wet spot on it, a combination of her cunt juices and sweat
from her buttocks. She snapped her fingers and pointed at it and he
licked and sucked it clean until it virtually disappeared. She strode
to the end of the bar while he followed on his knees, throwing one
after the other, knowing what was coming and wanting to cum again very
badly. But not just yet, he knew. She made herself another drink,
feeling very mellow now and very sexually excited again, poking her
middle finger in and out of her sopping pussy, rubbing the juice onto
her very erect clitoris. She settled both elbows onto the leather
cushion running around the edge of the bar, spread her legs far apart,
keeping her knees stiff, arching her back which stuck out her
beautiful, round and full buttocks. With a snap of her finger, she
pointed to her butt and he began to give her a thorough ass-cleaning,
his favorite activity and hers as well.

My Wife, My Mistress #3

The morning had started like most others. He was already fully dressed
in a black corset, full-fashioned hose, high-heeled sandals, bra - full
makeup and a wig. Dangly earrings finished the look. He was bound in
his Doggie mode, on all fours, ready to serve his Mistress as soon as
she awoke, even stirred, waiting at the side of her bed. Doggie mode
was a series of bondage devices that he got himself into beforehand,
rising much earlier than Pamela. His usual cock and ball bondage,
making one round, tight ball out his two testicles, pulling them back
between his thighs, his cock pointing straight down. She said it was
the perfect level for his face and mouth to serve her where she wanted
serviced. Two cat collars around his ankles were clipped to two more
collars around the tops of his thighs, so that he literally was on his
knees, not his shins and feet. Heavy knee pads and something that
looked like a baseball catcher's shin guards also protected his shins
and his feet if he had to scamper from a more upright position, like a
Japanese servant approaching the Emperor. Two more collars above his
knees kept them apart with a spreader bar. A chain ran between each
knee to each wrist, each encircles with cat collars, so that when he
walked - crawled is a better description, he very carefully raised each
knee and the wrist in front of it at the same time and moved them
forward. That action was then repeated on the other side, and made for
slow, painstaking progress. This mode wasn't meant for speed.

As she began awakening, she poked both feet out from under the silk
comforter, and immediately felt the warm, slick feel of his tongue,
licking on saliva, then licking and sucking it off and already, began
to get aroused as she looked forward to an extraordinary day of
training, humiliating and debasing her loving husband. It was one of
the few times when he was "allowed" to do something on his own
initiative without being given a direct order from his Mistress. But,
since this was a standing order, that he always be ready to greet her
in the morning in this manner, he really wasn't being "allowed" to do
it. He was following orders.

After ten minutes of this relaxing, soothing treatment, she flicked her
toes at his mouth, and he moved back, allowing her to arise and place
her feet on the floor. She had felt a very loving bond between them the
past several weeks, as he exhibited more and more willingness to do
anything she asked him to do and her imagination knew no bounds when it
came to making him prove his obedience to her whims. She even ordered
him to keep a journal of his own ideas to present to her to humiliate
him with. As he came up with more and more of them, it not only took
the burden from her but allowed her to see further into the psyche of
this man becoming-woman-becoming her total, committed sex-slave. He was
taking on the shape of a woman more and more quickly since she had that
Swiss doctor try different combinations of the hormone cocktails she
gave him twice a day. He had lost all of his body hair; his breasts
were now at least a C cup. His butt had grown along with his hips,
thighs and calves, and his muscles were smoothing out as that typically
female padding grew between them and his skin. And the nipple trainers
he had to wear for several hours each day were doing a splendid job of
changing flat, male nipples into nice little tubes of a more female
piece of flesh at the end of his breasts. They consisted of a hard
plastic ring, just big enough to fit around his aureoles. Three thin
plastic pieces about the size of a toothpick, but longer, then homed in
from them to the steel piercing in each nipple, pulling them out from
the ring. They were ingenious, again dreamed up by the mad doctor from
Switzerland, who, she promised him, they would visit next summer to
complete his transformation. Whenever she described what she eventually
wanted him to physically become, he thrilled with a shudder of
anticipation and dread, but nothing had hurt him, much less harmed him,
so far. And in spite of, or because of, the hormone cocktails she fed
him, despite the fact that he was becoming more and more physically
feminized, as he already was mentally, it had not only not shrunk his
penis and testicles, as is usually the case when Mistresses gave their
male slaves such concoctions, but had actually made them grow larger,
his cock stiffer when it was hard, which was virtually all the time,
and had extended greatly the amount of time it would stay stiff.

Unlike most other women who had male slaves, she didn't want to
emasculate her husband, make him into a total female, with no male
functions whatever, some mistresses even putting on chastity devices.
She wanted him to be a man who was a woman, a homemade transsexual, so
that she could tease and degrade him, whip his penis, control it
completely, and delight in making him cum at her direct order. To each
her own, was her attitude. She wanted him to be constantly sexually
aroused, so his motivation was not fear of her or her punishment, but
the desire to not only get sexual relief by ejaculating, but by showing
how obedient he was to her.

She snapped her fingers and he picked up her high-heeled slippers,
holding the heel of each in his teeth, the sole on his forehead in the
usual manner while she slipped her feet into them. After he had
silently entered her bedroom on all fours, being careful not to wake
her, he had placed the looped leather end of the chain leash to the
back of his scrotum on his back, within her easy reach. She stood up,
took hold of the leash and pulling it taut, and waited while he turned
around, ready to crawl to the bathroom.

"Lead, slave,." and he slowly began his crawl across the plush
carpeting of the huge bedroom toward the adjoining bathroom, watching
himself leading his Mistress by a leash to his balls and watching the
reflection of her lovely legs, ankles and feet encased in those sexy,
strappy slippers in the ever-present mirrors. These were a gold patent
leather he had chosen for her this morning, based on the amount of cum
film on them, which was very thick. All of her shoes were patent
leather because that made them impervious to moisture of any kind,
including cum and piss, his and others, not to mention spit, again his
and others, when he cleaned them.

The bathroom was about half the size of the bedroom, meaning it was
huge, again all the walls being floor-to-ceiling mirrors. It contained
not only a huge, open tiled shower but a large hot tub. The toilet
stood out from the wall several feet and was the most remarkable thing
that first caught the eye of anyone who used the bathroom. It was all
clear glass; the tank, the seat and the toilet itself. No one had ever
seen anything like it, or even imagined anything like this existed, but
she had found someone to make it for her, and the glass was so finely
manufactured that there was no distortion whatever.

"God, I have to pee!" she exclaimed. But instead of being led to the
gleaming toilet, she tugged at the leash, indicating that he stop at
the counter by the twin sinks. She quickly got down her toothpaste and
toothbrush, turned on the water and brushed her teeth. With a snap of
her fingers, he leaned back on his shins and feet, raised up and
tilting his head back, opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. She
leaned over and carefully spit out a mouthful of toothpaste suds onto
his tongue and into his mouth, which he rinsed around before swallowing
it. She repeated this several times until her mouth was nearly cleansed
of the toothpaste, then gave a quick rinse with mouthwash.

"There, toilet-mouth, that ought to freshen up those stale taste buds,
don't you think?" He responded with the usual..."unh hunnhh...unh
hunnhh..." pleading tone he was required to use in answer to every
question. She snatched up the leash and with a few tugs, guided him to
crawl to the open shower. On the floor of the spotless, white tile was
a large aluminum bowl he had placed there earlier in the morning.

She stopped him with his head just over it, stepped around it and faced
him from the other side. Without ceremony, she began pissing a hot,
dark amber stream onto his waiting tongue and into his mouth, the rest
splashing down into the aluminum bowl. As she swayed back and forth,
directing the pungent stream to his mouth area, she was careful not to
get it into his eyes, not only so as not to temporarily blind him but
also so it wouldn't mess up his carefully applied eye makeup, complete
with long, false lashes.

She must have pissed a quart, her amber liquid half-filling the bowl
beneath his face. Her bladder had been full, and the overnight
collection had made it extremely tasty, musky and salty. He savored it
as he swallowed it, but with all the piss-drinking he did, it was more
like piss tasting. Ingesting too much urine, while it is a very sterile
liquid (filtered by the best devices mother nature had to offer, human
k**neys), drinking too much of it could result in a buildup of uric
acid crystals, and that was not a good thing for anyone to experience,
especially her slave, whom she wanted healthy, hungry and thirsty.

Her stream began to trickle off as she sighed in relief, and only
inches from his face and open mouth, pushed her crotch onto his
outstretched tongue, and he gently licked and lapped and sucked the
drops of piss from her pussy lips, then very carefully, took clumps of
her thick bush between his lips and sucked any drops of her urine that
glistened there.

When she was satisfied, she took a step back, then squatted down, her
legs apart, picked up the toothbrush he had laid beside the bowl and
handed it to him. She always liked to watch this up close. With no
hesitation, he did what was expected, to give her a show of his love
for her and anything that came from her. He dipped it into the piss and
began brushing his teeth, dipping it often enough so that his mouth was
thoroughly overwhelmed with the taste of her strong piss. Before he was
finished, he scooped up the amber liquid, stuck out his tongue, and
thoroughly scrubbed it with the bristles of the brush. That ritual now
over would lead to the next. His "real" toilet training, as she
laughingly called it when she taunted him about it, especially in front
of guests, darkly hinting at what he might be trained to do.

She again kept the leash taut, and as he led her toward the "throne",
she took in the spectacle of his large, hard cock pointing straight
down, bobbing slightly from side to side as he crawled, his tight ball
sack looking like it was going to burst. But that was quite a way off
yet for this particular morning. He placed his face over the toilet and
began licking the glass seat, swiping and slurping large amounts of
saliva on it, then feeling a tug, he backed off a bit. She deftly
stepped over and around him and seated herself, loving the feeling of
the warm moisture on her naked buttocks and moved them around on it,
feeling his spit. She didn't sit like most women do on a toilet, knees
locked tightly together, feet apart in that ugly, pigeon-toed pose. She
brazenly spread her knees apart and moved her high-heeled feet out from
the base of it, a beautiful pose as the mirrors reflected herself and
her slave, who was about to get his first lesson in "real" toilet-
training.

With a snap of her fingers, he placed his head between her thighs, face
down, only six inches from the water below. She clamped her thighs
around his head and began slightly wiggling her ass, slightly
shivering.

Then she emitted a loud, long, very wet-sounding fart. He smelled the
strong, overwhelming odor almost as soon as he had heard the sound, and
since his head was clamped into that chamber she had created with her
thighs, the smell was overpowering, not bitter, like he thought it
would be - instead, it was a very sweet, musky, almost chocolate
stench, regardless of the obvious connection between the color of human
shit and that of chocolate. He inhaled strongly and felt a rush of
sexual excitement wash over him, his cock twitching, his balls
straining against the bondage, she pulling very tightly on his leash
while he gorged his sense of smell (and taste because the smell was so
strong) in one of his Mistresses' bodily functions, that was, at least
in private, a very natural thing to do. He moaned and groaned and mewed
in his begging manner while she playfully jerked his scrotum with the
leash, almost jacking him off that way, his cock and balls bobbing from
his stomach to back between his thighs. She took it all in from the
mirror opposite the throne, watching the image of her husband, on his
knees, legs barred apart, turned ankles fastened to his thighs,,
painted toes pointed daintily and watched him heavily breath in her
ordure. She grunted as another loud wet fart sputtered out of her anus,
then was ready.

This time, he heard the sound before he smelled the odor, as she began
extruding the tip of a dark brown, very thick, shiny turd. It slowly
emerged from her asshole, and after a few inches, she could actually
see it coming out in the mirrors to the side of the throne. As it slid
out with a wet, slippery sound, a menacing sound, the extremely
powerful stench of his Mistresses' shit washed over his nose, mouth,
face, all at once and he thought he was going to cum with excitement
but not for his strict training in that regard. It was about halfway
out now, she could tell, watching the slightly curled tip of it gently
dip into the water while she tugged and played with her slave's leash,
knowing he could hardly stand not cumming at what would be the first of
a ritual that would culminate in him becoming her human toilet in every
way, in every sense of those words.

She tightened the ring of her anus, and the rest of the huge tube of
shit slid wetly out of her asshole and slipped into the water and the
full extent of the smell of fresh, human shit hit him hard. He had
never smelled anything so strong, so powerful in his life, no matter
what the odor. His face, his nose was inches away from his Mistresses'
shit and he immediately knew that he loved that smell, was already
addicted to this ritual, breathing in gasps and pants now, to try to
get as much of that stench as he could into his nose, his mind, his
sexual stimulus apparatus that ruled him. And he was stimulated as she
knew he would be, dear slave husband of hers, his cock trembling and
twitching by itself, pre-cum gathering, then dripping off onto the tile
floor between his legs, some of it hitting the metal bar that kept his
knees apart.

With a sigh of relief, she moved her buttocks back slightly and began
playing with her already-juicy cunt, then still fondling herself, she
pushed his head back, stood up and got behind him. He beheld that large
turd, coiled exquisitely around itself in the glass toilet, about a
foot-and-a-half long and the smell immediately diminished because fresh
air, not just the stink of her shit, surrounded his face again.

"The rim of the throne is dirty, slave. Lick it clean and gaze at your
Mistresses' doings while you do it. And I want to see you really hammer
that cock of yours while you do."

He began licking his spit onto the clear glass of the rim, all the
while gazing down at that large turd his Mistress had ordered him to
smell as he was now ordered to look at while he lapped and sucked
around the rim of the toilet, masturbating furiously as he did so.

"Now, as you look at what you will soon taste, toilet-mouth, get ready
to cum at my order," and with that, she spun off a large amount of
toilet tissue, wrapping it around her hand as she did so, and placed it
beneath his raging cock. He looked at that...thing...in the water of
the toilet, wanting to go ahead with the ultimate test of his
obedience, wanting to get the order to plunge his face into the toilet
water and grab a chunk of it, getting it somehow into his mouth and
chewing it slowly, showing her he was willing to eat her shit, fresh
from her bowels. But that was not for today. He was already making
numerous countdowns in his head, starting over again each time he
mentally reached the number one, waiting for her to order him to start
the actual countdown himself. But she didn't this time.

"Ten...nine," she started counting. "Eight...seven..." and he jacked
furiously, madly, ready to explode his balls onto that wad of toilet
paper that awaited his discharge. She continued right to the end with
no games, no pauses, no starting over. She wanted this to go smoothly,
correctly, so he would remember how pleasurable it was to masturbate
while he smelled her farts, her shit, than look at it while he spurted
his pent-up wad"

"One...shoot!"

He shuddered and spasmed and within his bondage, humped his pelvis back
and forth, but all of his sperm hit the toilet paper, excepting that
which also hit his knee brace. He gritted his teeth and groaned loudly.
"Oh...Mistress Pamela...ahhh...I love you so much Mistress.
Unnhhh...God, Mistress, train me to do this, please Mistress. Oh...",
and he trailed off and began sagging there, still watching that turd,
still looking at it, longing for it now.

When she knew he was finished and coming down, she gently pushed him in
the ribs with her shoe and he obligingly slowly rolled over, now only
stroking his cock with a gentle motion. She reached down, picked up the
saturated wad of toilet paper and thoroughly wiped first the rim of the
toilet, then putting down the seat, it as well. Tomorrow morning, it
would have a nicer, slicker feel to it than just his saliva after he
licked it wet for her.

"Now your turn, slave," and she led him to the sliding doors to the
patio. He led, she keeping the leash to his bound balls taut and when
he knew that she was through the doors and heard them slide shut, he
stopped, waiting for further orders.

"Hmm," she muttered, looking around at where she wanted him to relieve
himself. "All right, slave, I want you to get between the two large
planters." He slowly did as he was told, having to piss very badly but
his cock hard as ever, made even harder by the thought that he was
outside, even though no one could see him, feeling the cool air on his
body, his genitals, his ass, heightening the erotic feeling. The
planters were about five feet apart and he situated himself between
them waiting further orders.

"All right, slave, piss for Mistress like the dog that you are." He
laboriously raised one knee as high as he could considering his bondage
and immediately began pissing a long, strong stream of hot urine, which
steamed as soon as it left his cock and hit the planter, running hot
onto the mulch between the planters. With a sigh of relief, he shook
his butt, shaking off the remaining drops of his piss and lowered his
knee.

"There, there, little puppy, aren't you relieved?" He slowly turned and
in gratitude, kissed and licked the tops of her strappy mules that she
wore.


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