I have a very special treat in mind for you. Tonight, I'm going to take you someplace you've never gone before.

First, however, consider this: you may choose not to show up for this assignation. But if you do, there will be no turning back. If you meet me tonight, you had better be ready to surrender, to turn yourself over to ME, without questions or hesitations.

I will make you my slave in every way. I will use you however I wish--however it amuses me. I'll even warn you that, of all the things about me you should fear, the one you should fear the most is my sense of humor. It is when I am laughing at you that you will see, at her most naked and unashamed, the devouring goddess in me.

Remember this too: you are not clever enough to manipulate me. You cannot thwart my will. If you try, you will be sorry. I won't elaborate on the punishment now: I will let you imagine it.

I hope you have a very, very masochistic imagination.

I want you to feel and know exactly what your place is with me. You will have to surrender yourself so completely that MY wants and needs become your wants and needs. When I'm in the mood to beat you, you will want to be whipped until my marks stain your skin purple and blue; when I need a foot-rub, you will beg to massage my perfect tiny feet, worshipping them like rare jewels and submissively sucking the painted toes when I command you to wash them with your tongue.

Every so often, I will take you so close to the edge that you will be genuinely afraid. I will push you harder than you've ever been pushed, harder than you think you can be pushed. I want you so submissive that no one who knows you in your other life--the life you lead away from me--would even recognize you.

My whips and crops and cats are only tools to express the fundamental power your Mistress holds over you: the real power exists in my mind. All the little tasks you perform, all the humiliations and punishments you suffer, they too are only extensions of a submissiveness which goes much deeper than the body. It is your burning hunger to grovel and to do everything that I say, your overwhelming urge to bend to my stronger will and greater intelligence, which defines your submission to me.

I will DEMAND your devotion. I have no time to waste on men who do not satisfy me the way I wish to be satisfied. In order to satisfy me, you will have to prove your devotion again and again, until absolute devotion to your Mistress's needs becomes your nature.

If you do not worship me, then I have no time for you. If you are not eager to serve my every whim, then I am already bored with you. I don't want to see you tonight. But if you accept my invitation, then we will both know why. It is because I am your obsession and you know you will never be happy until you are locked in the arms of your obsession.

When you meet me, you will be dressed exactly as follows. First, no underwear, of any kind. Over your bare chest, you are to wear a shirt which buttons down the front so I can open it and reach in to squeeze and pinch your nipples whenever I please. Over your bare ass, you will wear your tightest, thinnest pair of pants, pants which fit so snugly over your crotch that everything is visible at a glance; ones which make it an ordeal to sit comfortably and an agony when you get excited. I will enjoy rubbing my hand over your crotch, even more so when you involuntarily respond to my rough caresses with moans of desire.

If you make feeble excuses about not owning pants that will please me, you will have to buy spandex cycling pants and they will have to be in a size much too small for you, so that you can barely pull them on. You will try on as many pairs as it takes until you achieve the required look: the spandex should look like a coat of glistening paint someone has poured over you, less like something to conceal your nakedness and more like an adornment intended to enhance it.

If you are good and don't question me, I will allow you to wear a long jacket over the pants--but only while you are traveling to meet me. The moment you arrive at the spot I've designated, you must remove it and wait, dressed exactly to my requirements, so that you are on display when I approach.

I will give you a time and an address. You will have to wait for me beside the door of a building you've never seen before. Its windows are shuttered and dark, as if no one lived there; the doorway is wind-swept. The emptiness makes you shiver. Who is hiding behind the walls? What destiny awaits you in the dark recesses of this desolate building?

You will have to wait with your hands clasped behind your back and your head bowed, and you will not speak, under any circumstances. You will stand like that until I arrive and release you from this frozen, silent pose. While you are waiting, I want you to think about how helpless you already are. You have no way of knowing what I have in mind. Perhaps I will leave you standing there for hours, while pedestrians pass, staring at you wonderingly. How will you feel when strangers pass, some staring lewdly, others shocked, still others giggling to see your submissive lusts on display?

As you stand there helplessly, a woman will stop and come over to you, a stranger whom you do not know. She will tease you, asking you why you are standing like this, asking if you are a submissive slut whose Mistress is forcing him to wait for her in such a humiliating state. She knows that you will not move your hands from behind your back. She will fondle your crotch, telling you what a shame it is that your cock doesn't belong to her, because she would put it to good use, unlike your Mistress who clearly enjoys humiliating you and keeping you in a constant state of sexual frustration, without allowing you release.

Your cock will throb and pulse as her words sink in, but you won't dare to speak. You know that I must be watching from a hiding place, making sure that you are following my orders exactly. You can be sure that I will not be in a rush either to arrive or to release you from this pose. I will let my friend play with you until you are ready to cum in your pants.

Then and only then will I step forth and bid her to go. You will sigh with relief when you recognize my brisk, no-nonsense footsteps, the tips my pointy heels clicking smartly on the pavement, You'll hear your Mistress's voice telling the woman, "I'll take over now." You will raise your eyebrows in surprise when she timidly answers, "Yes, Mistress," and hurries away.

You won't be able to see me because your eyes will remain fixed submissively on the ground. As the minutes pass, your anticipation will grow--and so will your excitement. Who was that woman? She called me "Mistress"-- does it mean she too is my slave? Your skin will be tingling as you contemplate the mystery and its implications: will you see her again? Is this other woman part of tonight's adventure?

With your eyes cast down, you will undoubtedly have a clear view of your crotch and your eyes will confirm what your loins already know: your cock is bulging wildly in your pants, at the edge of orgasm, pre-cum seeping into the fabric, an expanding wet spot making the head of your cock even more visible. The more aroused you become, the tighter and more uncomfortable the pants become; and the more the garment binds you, the harder you'll get.

I will be watching you with delight, relishing your dilemma: it will be such an entertaining show, I will be very reluctant to release you. I like watching that big prick swelling in your tight pants, knowing that your balls are filled to bursting and that anything I do or say now may send you over the edge, so that you ejaculate uncontrollably while I laugh at you.

When finally I tap you on the shoulder, you will feel as if a sorceress was waking you from a profound spell. "You wouldn't DARE to cum without permission," I'll taunt you as I begin rubbing my hand sensuously over your distended cock and balls, "that would be disobedient. And I know my slave wouldn't never be disobedient." In a low, icy murmur, I warn you: "If you cum without permission, I will send you away.

Before you have time to answer, I will brusquely fit a collar around your neck, cinching and buckling the thick leather band, then locking a small padlock on the buckle to ensure you cannot take the collar off yourself. I'll attach a short thick leash to the collar which I'll grip tight and pull until your face is strained against my breasts.

"You won't forget who you belong to, will you, slave?" I'll grab your hair in my other hand and tug it fiercely until you moan.

Your spine bent, your scalp throbbing painfully, you will gasp, "No, Mistress, I won't forget! I am yours!" Your face is aflame with embarrassment as you grow increasingly conscious that we are standing on the street, out in the open, and that there may be witnesses to your terrible humiliation.

I'll release your hair, but before I let you straighten up, I'll pull on the leash so that you stumble after me, your head still low. I'll relax the lead, and pull you into the building. The lobby is dark and you blink, trying to adjust your eyes to the gloom. Do not bother: in another minute, I have a blindfold secured over your eyes, casting you into total darkness. I'll pull your wrists behind your back again, only this time your Mistress will handcuff them in place.

When I am done, I will pull the leash so tight that your body is nearly up against mine, your swollen cock grazing Mistress's firm, ripe ass as I slowly lead you further into the building. You'll hear me unlock a door, and swing it open, nudging you through, then letting it slam shut behind you. You'll be led to an elevator and taken inside. You will hear its door creak open, and hear me press a button; then you will feel yourself swept up towards the sky. All will occur in silence, as I let you anticipate what is coming next. Will that stranger be waiting? Will she be the only one?

When the elevator stops, I'll lead you out and down an ominously silent hall. We'll stop before a door, and you'll hear Mistress knock briskly, and call out, "I'm here with my slave. Let me in."

You'll feel a cool breeze on your face as the door opens wide. To your consternation, no one greets us. Again, your mind races over the possibilities--will we be alone? Who else is waiting inside? Why isn't anyone speaking? You can feel me leading you into a large space. You sense the presence of others, yet no one is breathing a word. The eerie silence makes your heart hammer anxiously and your palms begin to sweat.

I'll pull you deeper into the room, and you'll mince after me, uncertainly. Your head will be forced down again as the leash is yanked tight. You hear me walk away and you begin to follow me. That is when you discover that I have tied your leash to a hook in the wall. You are my prisoner.

"Oh!," I'll say, nonchalantly, "I almost forgot." I'll walk back to you and remove the blindfold. Now you will have difficulty adjusting to the brightness of the room--but you will nonetheless immediately see that seated on chairs and sofas scattered around the room are many different women. Three of them are dressed in leather and fetish gear, covered head to foot, their faces cool and amused as they stare at you. But four women are half naked, their breasts exposed, their legs and feet bare, only indecently short leather skirts around their waists. These women are kneeling on the floor, their eyes cast down much the way yours were when you waited for me.

The sight of all these exotic women, so obviously uninhibited and perverse, assembled just out of your reach, excites you so much that you unthinkingly strain against your leash.

"Look at my slut!" I laugh to my friends, pointing to you, "He looks like he wants to run over to you and hump your legs, he's so happy to see you."

The dominatrices will grin at this; and a couple of the submissive women will glance up furtively, then gaze intently at your humiliated helplessness, their eyes bright with excitement. They will see you turn crimson with embarrassment as your pants grow even tighter around your balls, the seams now slicing into the sensitive flesh and causing you pain, and they will begin to giggle and murmur among themselves.

"He's very excitable," I'll say, walking back to you. "Just like a dog." I'll turn around and say, "Marissa, come here."

One of the submissive women will leap up, flying to me on pretty, bare feet. "Yes, Mistress," she'll curtsey low. You'll recognize the voice: it was the woman who had teased you on the sidewalk. Bent over as she is, her naked buttocks peep out of the back of her skirt. They are raised higher than her head. In front, her round, voluptuous breasts hang down, the long red nipples pointing at the floor.

"What did she tell you before I arrived?" I'll suddenly whirl around, addressing you gruffly, "Tell Mistress!"

You glance down at Marissa and see that she has grown pale. Obviously, she took a few liberties with you. She is shaking visibly. She stares piteously at you, silently pleading with you not to get her into trouble with Mistress.

You hesitate, and I wrap my fist around your testicles and squeeze so hard that you feel as if your balls are being crushed in a steel vise. Everyone hears you bellow with anguish, and it causes another flutter of indistinct murmurs and low giggles.

"The truth!" I demand, slapping your face. "If I find out you've lied to spare her, you'll both be punished in the cruelest ways."

Marissa looks even more frightened now, because she knows that I mean it: she may suffer for the truth, but a lie will bring sheer torment. Slowly, nervously, you repeat to me everything she said to you, glancing apologetically at Marissa, even as you betray her. Yet just repeating the words she spoke to you makes you so excited, you can barely speak, and you stutter out the last sentence, panting.

"So, Marissa...you'd put that cock to some use?" I smile calmly and fold my arms, looking down at Marissa, who is still bowing before me. "In which lifetime?" I step behind her and you see me clutch her naked ass in my hands, squeezing the soft globes and kneading them cruelly, my knuckles turning white as my fingers probe her flesh.

"No, Mistress, no, no," she gasps, "I was just trying to turn him on, the way you ordered, Mistress."

"Really?" I say skeptically, slapping her cheeks and the tops of her thighs until she begins to moan and squeal. I extend my arm towards the sofa where the other Mistresses sit, their slaves at their feet. "Would someone give me a paddle, please," I say calmly. A large, stout woman with short cropped gray hair and ice-blue eyes reaches to her belt and removes a thick, short, black leather paddle. She sticks the handle in the mouth of the submissive in front of her, and murmurs something in the girl's ear. The submissive blushes, and immediately gets on all fours, crawling slowly across the floor until she reaches me. She sits back on her haunches and submissively offers me the paddle with her mouth.

"Good girl," I say, patting her on the head, and taking the paddle from her. She whispers thanks, and crawls back to her Mistress's legs. As she goes, you can see just how insufficient her tiny skirt is: her white thighs and large, round ass sway hypnotically, and the dark slit of her sex winks at you.

"Nice view!" I comment with a smile, and the other women laugh. When at last the submissive is back in her place, you see how humiliated she looks, but also how her face lights up with ecstasy when her Mistress leans down to reward her good behavior with a long, deep kiss. A sharp pang of envy shoots through you: you wish you were that submissive, curled up at My feet, being rewarded in just that way.

Paddle in hand, I begin to punish Marissa. I stand at her side, putting my arm all the way around her waist, and holding her securely against me so she cannot escape. I raise the paddle a few inches off her cheeks, starting slow and administering short, sharp smacks with the tough paddle. You can see her bottom beginning to glow pink from the spanking as she wiggles and squirms helplessly in my clasp. I run the edge of the paddle between the cheeks of her ass, and then turn it around, pushing the handle into the dark velvet triangle, probing her hole. Marissa moans louder now, and her hands shoot down to the floor so she can support herself as she writhes. The look on her face tells all: I am pushing that handle in and out of her, fucking her with it, and she is responding wildly, pushing her hips out to meet each thrust, and groaning with pleasure each time I get it in all the way. You hear soft wet sucking noises as the handle penetrates and then retreats from her drenched pussy and you can smell her excitement. But while the women behind her can see everything, you can only see the look on Marissa's face and the tops of her red buns as I play with her cruelly.

Abruptly, I stop. "Is that the kind of use you had in mind for my slave's dick?"

Startled and frustrated that I've stopped, Marissa peevishly blurts, "Yes Mistress!"

"Oh, so it IS," I turn the paddle around again and you see the glistening traces of her juices on the leather. I apply the paddle harshly now, punishing her severely. "Then you had better change your mind," I say, hitting her harder and harder. Marissa's cheeks are glowing red, and she claws the ground, trying to evade the pain. But I am relentless. Slap after slap, I inflict a spanking torture on her helpless, exposed ass, until at last Marissa bursts into sobs, and apologizes frantically.

"I'm sorry, Mistress, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she weeps, "Please, please, I'm sorry, please!" I am deaf to her apologies. I continue spanking her until the marks darken to faint purple. She is crying so hard now that you are suspended between intense lust at witnessing your Mistress's sadism and complete terror at its force--will you be next? What if I am even harder on you?

Abruptly, I stop, releasing her. She sinks down to the floor, hugging herself, tears still flowing from her eyes.

"Turn around," I command. She quickly obeys. Now you have a very good view of the bruises I've given her and it is your turn to grow pale. You don't know if you can take as much pain, and an overwhelming weakness seems to crawl from your knees straight into your groin, so intense that you are afraid you will cum in your pants. When I order Marissa to kiss my boots to show me that her apology is sincere, she complies, raising her buttocks high in the air. You stare straight between her legs at her sopping wet pubic hair and shiver, your hard-on swelling so big it threatens to split your pants.

I glance at you and start laughing. "You don't suppose he thinks he's dominant, do you?" I jeer for the benefit of the others, and everyone laughs loudly at the idea. "Look how hard he's gotten. Or," I say, quickly stepping up to you, and holding your chin in my hand, "maybe it's because he wishes he was in her place? Is that it, slut?"

You don't dare to say anything for fear you'll say the wrong thing, and provoke me. Instead, you begin trembling.

"Marissa," I crisply order, "get the doggie dish."

Perplexed, you watch as Marissa scrambles across the room and out a door, returning a moment later carrying a small yellow plastic dogfood dish. I motion to her with my hand, and she carries it to me. "Now kneel and hold the dish up with both hands," I say. "This won't take long."

I unbutton your shirt quickly, and pull it back down over your shoulders, leaving it hanging over your handcuffs. "No, the truth is," I began explaining in a cool, amused voice to the onlookers, "that he is simply a horny slut who can't help getting excited." I run my hands over your cock and balls again, squeezing them now, pinching the head through the fabric, tracing the shaft with my fingernails.

I continue talking casually as I open your pants and forcefully pull them straight down to your thighs, so quickly and violently that you cry out in surprise. "For example, he doesn't have permission to cum. But he just can't control himself when he gets like this." I grasp your cock in one hand and begin stroking it, rubbing your balls with my other hand, tugging on the pubic hair, pinching the head roughly, then pumping the shaft back and forth again.

"Oh, God," you moan, your legs turning to jelly.

"That's Goddess to you," I smirk, smacking your cock so hard that you would bend over double if not for the leash securing your neck to the wall. You yelp in pain and I begin pumping again, harder now, more insistently. You are trying desperately to think of something else--of work, of your family, of your MOTHER... anything to stop the overpowering pressure building up in your balls, and making your hard-on throb out of control. I let go of it for a few seconds, so everyone can watch it lurch right and left, then I laugh and squeeze it some more.

"Marissa, bring the doggie dish right under the head of his cock," I say. You realize what will happen next and you are frozen with panic. "After all, you wanted to find a use for his cock, right?" I say, grinning at you both, "Well--here's a worthwhile purpose. Amusing me."

I increase the speed now, pumping you and squeezing you and forcing you to cum, yet still not giving you permission to cum.

"Mistress," you whine softly, "pleeeease may I cum, pleeeease?"

"No," I say solemnly, milking your dick even harder.

When Marissa crawls up to you and holds the dish immediately under your cock, the sight of her helpless submission to my perverse little game, combined with the irresistible sensations of Mistress's hand, defeat the last of your defenses. You shudder and then wail with relief as burning cum shoots up through your distended members and jets from your hole, spurting gob after gob of steaming white cum into the dish.

In your ecstasy, everything is as dark as when you wore my blindfold--it is as if all your five senses were draining out of your aching, throbbing cock, leaving you in a delirious blackness. But within seconds of orgasm, your cock nearly shrivels up inside you to realize where you are and what is going on. You are blushing so intensely, you cannot look at anyone, and instead stare into the doggie dish: swimming inside it is a small puddle of your still-warm cum.

"I didn't give you permission to cum," I say coldly. You shoot me a baleful look full of recrimination, and then hang your head, ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," you whisper pitifully. "I'm sorry I disappointed you."

"You didn't disappoint me," I said. "You amused me." I flick your nipple with my sharp nails and you flinch from the sharp pain, doubly sensitive now that you've cum. "And Mistress likes to be amused." I unsnap the leash from your collar, and unlock the handcuffs, hastily pulling off your shirt and helping you out of your pants. "In fact, you and Marissa are going to amuse me quite a bit more tonight." I remove the dish from her hands. "Both of you!" I growl, "Crawl to the bathroom. NOW."

Marissa knows the way and immediately crawls in that direction, leaving you to drop to the floor, following at her heels. Crawling after her, you are given the most exquisite vision of her beautifully marked ass and her moist, hungry sex, and your cock swells furiously again.

"Isn't that cute!" you hear me laughing behind you, "His dick is almost hanging down to the carpet. Careful," I call to you, "don't get cock burn scraping the head along the floor."

You keep crawling after Marissa, shivering. A grin of horrified embarrassment stretches involuntarily across your face. You know how ridiculous you look. You know that just as you can see straight between Marissa's legs, everyone in the room now is staring straight between yours, watching your big balls as they sway and slap your thighs, titillated to see your distended cock bob up and down as you crawl. You are desperately relieved when Marissa leads you out of the room and into a white-tiled bathroom where you wait for me.

I come in still holding the doggie dish. I bring it to the sink, and run warm water into it, then place it on the floor. I open the vanity chest and remove two toothbrushes and two small bars of soap. Under the sink is a small bucket, which I fill with water from the tap. Then I turn to you both.

"As punishment for your sluttiness, you two are going to scrub every inch of porcelain and ceramic in my bathroom. You are not permitted to talk to one another, or to touch. You are to work here together in absolute silence and chastity. I will be checking on you periodically and this time, I will bring a whip with me. For every infraction, both of you will be punished with 20 strokes of the whip--no matter which one of you committed it. And I do not intend to hold back my arm when I whip you. Each stroke will leave a mark. Also," I add as if you both were not frightened enough, "rest assured that when I inspect your work afterwards with a white glove, you will both be soundly thrashed if I am not absolutely pleased.

I pause to look at you. Your eyes are wide with terror, and you gulp nervously. "Understood?" I say mildly, turning my gaze from one to the other of you. "Yes, Mistress!" you cry in unison. "We'll obey!"

"You'd better," I say curtly. Now I give you complete instructions.

"It will take you a few hours to cover every inch of tile in the bathroom. I'm sure that, during that time, some of the women I am entertaining in the living room will need to use the facilities. When a woman comes in, she will pay no attention to you. As far as she is concerned, you are just part of the bathroom. You will immediately stop scrubbing when you hear her footsteps. You'll crouch submissively and lower your eyes in respect. You will keep your eyes lowered the entire time she is here."

My next threat is very simple: "If I hear that you were impudent, I will hurt you."

"As soon as you hear the toilet flush and the taps turned on so she may wash her hands, you each have a task to perform. Marissa, you will place a hand-towel on top of your head and bring it to my guest, waiting until she has wiped her hands and replaced the towel on top of you again. As for you," I point a long red fingernail at you, "you will crawl to the toilet with your little toothbrush and soap, and carefully scrub the fixture until it sparkles again." You and Marissa exchange looks of chagrin, then duck your heads.

"Yes, Mistress," you murmur, blushing.

"Remember, she will observe you and will report back to me on whether the toilet service met with her approval!"

"Yes, Mistress," you both say in unison again, your faces blushing the same shade.

"But just to show you how kind I am, I am leaving you something to drink." I smile maliciously and point to the doggie dish. "By the time you are done scrubbing the tile, that dish had better be empty." I look at you then at Marissa. "BOTH of you are responsible for lapping up the cum-flavored water. And believe me," I say, lazily reaching into my pocket and pulling out a cigarette, "I will check on your periodically to be sure that you aren't cheating."

I light the cigarette with a match which I then toss on the tiled floor. I take a few drags, and flick the ashes on the tiles too. "Do a good job for me," I say, "And you will spend the night with me here." I throw the cigarette down and grind it out under my foot while you both quiver with excitement at the thought of being here with me for an entire night of such depraved games.

Spontaneously, I bend over, grasping Marissa's left nipple and your right one in either hand, squeezing them with my fingers until you both are squirming and moaning in pain. "Do a good job for me," I purr seductively, finally releasing you.

"Yes, Mistress, we will, we promise," you both squeal, swearing your obedience to me.

"Good," I say. Before I walk out the door to leave you to your tedious, degrading labors, I'll add one final warning: "Be good little slaves, or you'll never be invited to one of Mistress's parties again.

I'll smile when I see the anxiety flicker across your face. I know you'll do a good job for me. I know you will be perfectly obedient to me. You are more obsessed with me now than ever before. You have traveled with me to this place tonight, and now you never want to leave.