Message-ID: <4340eli$9709241012@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: jumper30@aol.com (Jumper30) Subject: NEW: NEW PLATEAUS: Part 4 by Jumper (M/F F/F spank/mild Ds) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <19970924121001.IAA21752@ladder02.news.aol.com> NEW PLATEAUS: Part 4 by Jumper "So you've decided to accept the position?" I asked. The applicant sat before my mahogany desk in the only chair in my office, a hard straight back chair that I assumed dug into her back and buttocks, since it was designed that way. Amy Roth was her name, and as she clutched her black purse on her lap, her voice quivered with nervousness. "Yes, Sir. I've thought about it a lot," she said. "I want the job." This was her third interview, and she had passed the medical exams with flying colors. My clients were pleased with her qualifications, a lovely young, woman with shapely breasts under a white blouse. If she had followed instructions she was braless, yes, I could see nipple prints tenting the silk, as well as pantiless under her tight, red skirt. However, her knees were demurely clamped together in direct violation of the rules. Also in Amy's favor, was her total lack of experience in the field. Not that she was a virgin, as she had confessed and the doctor had confirmed, but she had never been a professional, which was exactly what my clients wanted. My clients had already approved her nude photos, which now rested in the folder on my desk. Not a blemish on her lovely body, and her red pubic hair matched the hair on her head; she was a natural redhead, which one of the Members found very desirable. "Once you sign the contract, you are committed for a year," I said. "There's no backing out if things get too rough." Actually, she would be provided with a safety word when she got to the Mansion, so she could "retire" any time she wanted with her $100,000 salary pro-rated to time served, but I didn't want her to know that yet. I was testing her resolve. "I'm ready to sign," she said. "It's a good deal, and I've already made the arrangements." Which meant she'd quit her job as a sales clerk, sold her car, put all her possessions in storage, and sublet her apartment for the next year. And she was right, it was a good deal. Full medical benefits, free room and board, and $100,000 after taxes deposited in her name today, which would be invested and accrue dividends during her period of service. All she had to do was give my clients the full use of her body for the next twelve months; she had to submit to anything they wanted, as had already been explained during her second interview. The only restriction: my clients could not cause her any permanent injury or scarring. And there were no loopholes or traps in the contract, as I knew since I had written it myself. Simple arrangements, simply written, so everyone knew exactly what they were getting and what was expected. Satisfaction guaranteed for all. I slid her contract across my desk and held out a pen. As she leaned forward to take it with trembling hands, I got a quick glimpse down the front of her blouse at the spongy swells of her breasts before her long, amber curls fell forward to hide the view. Once her signature was on the dotted line, I retrieved the contract and tucked it in her folder, then dropped it in my center drawer for Sheila to deliver to the Mansion. "So what happens now?" asked Amy Roth, my clients' newest sex slave. Her shoulders squared as she steeled herself with resolve. "Your service starts now," I said. "You will not speak unless you are given permission, and you will call everyone, even house servants, either Master or Mistress. From now on, you will do whatever you are told without hesitation. If you balk, you will be punished. In fact you will probably be punished on a frequent basis no matter how good you are. My clients enjoy that sort of thing." She licked her lips and swallowed, then gave a slight nod. "Yes, Master." I smiled, then said, "You were right to call me Master even though I'm not a Member, but you were not given permission to speak." I always get them on that. Talk as if you expect acknowledgment, and they screw up every time, the first time. "You must be punished." She blanched and her emerald eyes widened, then she looked at her knees as if afraid to look into my face any longer, which was a justified fear, for that requirement had been discussed during the second interview. Never look a Master directly in the eyes. A good slave must always keep her eyes downcast. Then as if Amy remembered another rule, she suddenly parted her legs as far as possible, providing a gap between her inner thighs which was lost to shadows before I could see the good stuff. I smiled again and said, "Yes, and you must be punished for that as well. Your clock started ticking when you sat improperly in that chair." Amy took a deep sigh, and if possible she became even more pale. I pressed the button on my intercom, and Sheila's voice came across the tiny speaker almost immediately. I guess she was eager to get started. "Yes, Mr. Merrill?" "Please come into my office, Ms. Butler." "Yes, Charles." Then the intercom went dead, and moments later Sheila stepped into my office and locked the door behind her. Sheila was a tall, slender woman of African descent with dark, frizzy hair that misted to her shoulders. She wore a black, silk blouse tucked into a black, tight skirt that ended midway down sleek, muscular thighs. All that natural darkness, plus the darkness of her clothing gave her an erotic, yet formidable appearance, which was more truth than bluff. Sheila's bright almond eyes gleamed with excitement, as she said, "May I help you, sir?" There was a lilt in her voice, and a slight mocking when she pronounced the word "sir." Her role as my secretary was just that, a role. In reality, she was a scout and trainer for the Mansion which also contracted my services. "Sheila, you've already met Amy Roth. She has signed the contract." Sheila broke into a wide grin, which she quickly erased from her face before the new slave could see it. "Prepare her for the Mansion." Sheila strode to the closet and pulled out a large security lock box and carried it to my desk, where she opened the lid. "Put all your possessions in this box, Slave. They'll be safe in storage for the next year." Obediently, Amy Roth set her purse in the steel box, then settled back in the chair, waiting for further instructions. Sheila shot me a secretive smile. The new slaves always fell for that one too. Amy was working up quite a score card against herself. Sheila made her voice gruff. "I said all your possessions, Slave." For a moment Amy looked puzzled, then she glanced down at her clothes. As realization struck home, her face turned crimson and she glanced at me, as if she couldn't believe that she was expected to strip naked in front of a lawyer in a modern office building. No matter how many times the new slaves are told that servitude starts as soon as they sign the contract, they always think that means when they get to the Mansion. Go figure. Grabbing Amy by the bicep, Sheila jerked the young woman to her feet as easily as if the woman was a child. Sheila worked out on a regular basis, and occasionally she challenged me to arm wrestling contests, and had come close to winning on at least two occasions, but more about that later. "Put all your possessions in the security box, Slave," Sheila repeated. "This is the last time I'll be nice about it. As it is, you've earned yourself punishment by being so slow." I broke in. "Also, she sat with her legs together, and she spoke before she was given permission." Amy gave me an accusing look, as if I was a tattle tale, but I was only doing my job. "And she keeps looking at our faces," Sheila said. "And she's yet to call me Mistress." The whole time we spoke, Sheila shook Amy like a rag doll. "Now you better cooperate, bitch, if you don't want additional punishment." Pale, Amy quickly unbuttoned her blouse and slid it off her arms and shoulders to expose the firm mounds of her creamy breasts. As required, Amy had omitted her bra. I wanted to lick her candy apple nipples but that would exceed my authority. I was allowed to discipline the new recruits, but I was not allowed sexual favors unless Sheila required it for their initiation. That separated me as an employee of my clients, rather than a Member with equal privileges. At this point I was no more than a highly paid "house servant," which is the only reason it was proper for Amy to call me Master. However, my contract allowed me an option to join their exclusive "club," but so far I had not been able to come up with the million dollar membership fee. That's why Darla was so special to me. I could have my own personal slave at a price I could afford - free. I couldn't wait to escalate her training. Amy stuffed her blouse in the security box without bothering to fold it. Apparently, she didn't want to arouse our ire any further. Then she unfastened her skirt and let it fall to the floor, and Sheila and I both sucked in our breath simultaneously. Contrary to instructions Amy wore red, silk panties. Boy, was Amy going to get it now. Grabbing them by the waistband, Sheila gave a mighty heave and tore the panties right off the woman, leaving her completely naked, except for her shoes and hose attached to garters. The photos hadn't lied. Amy had a great body with sleek contours and a triangle of red fur above the delicate groove of her pussy lips which disappeared between her succulent thighs. Normally, a new recruit's pubic area is shaved before she leaves my office, but this time a Member wanted Amy's red fur to remain. "You weren't supposed to wear panties," said Sheila and stuffed the ruined material against the woman's face in the same manner as rubbing a dog's muzzle in its mess. Amy tried to twist away, but Sheila jammed Amy's arm up between her shoulders blades and forced her belly against the edge of my desk. "Bend over the desk and grip the opposite side," said Sheila as she stuffed the panties into Amy's mouth as a gag. Sobbing at her rough treatment, Amy bent over and her breasts flattened against the shiny veneer of my desk top; her delicate fingers wrapped around the edge of my desk. With well practiced movements, I put leather bracelets on Amy's wrists, then clipped each hand to brackets on the corners of my desk, while Sheila did the same thing to Amy's ankles. The new slave's fingernails were trimmed and devoid of all polish as instructed. The poor girl had remembered some details, but forgotten others. But no matter; even if she had been perfect, it was Sheila's job to find some sort of punishable offense. My clients wanted the recruits to have red butts when they arrived at the Mansion. Amy's naked cheeks jutted at a sharp angle toward Sheila, who gave it an admiring perusal. "Nice ass," Sheila told her charge, and Amy's face, only inches away from me, turned red enough to match her hair. I slid back my chair and walked around my desk to stare at the cheeks of Amy's ass, which were creamy and nicely splayed, exposing the pink bud of her asshole and the slit of her pussy. "You're right," I told Sheila. "Great ass. And I like the way her butt hole is puckering up." Amy gasped at the crudity of our examination, which was yet another mark against her. Sheila slapped the upturned ass, leaving a bright, red handprint. Amy took it well, the only movement a quiver of her butt cheek as it jelloed back into place. At Sheila's nod, I added a slightly larger handprint to Amy's other cheek. Again, the new slave took it stoically. While Sheila went to the closet, I rained a flurry of blows, each harder than the last on Amy's bottom, which was quickly ripening to a sharp crimson. Amy breathed harder with the discomfort, but she had yet to utter an exclamation of pain. As Sheila placed her tools on my desk, I stepped aside and watched the professional run her hands over the girl's reddened ass. "Nice and hot already," she murmured, and she scrapped her nails over the tender flesh. Amy gasped and wiggled a bit, but otherwise held her position. Very impressive for a neophyte. My clients would be quite pleased. Uncapping a tube of lubricant, Sheila smeared the slippery goo all over her finger, then pushed against Amy's asshole. "Oh!" squealed Amy. Sheila's entire finger easily slipped up Amy's ass, then Sheila inserted a second finger, then a third. "Ow!" said Amy, "That hurts!" Sheila grabbed a leather strap off my desk and slammed it across Amy's ass. "Shut up, slave." Amy jerked and groaned with the sudden pain, but settled back across the desktop. Then Sheila strapped her buttocks several times in rapid succession with heavy, meaty slaps. I was impressed with Sheila's force, the muscles in her biceps knotted cables as she repeatedly slammed the leather across Amy's ass with vicious stripes. Finally, Amy rose up on her toes and leaked a suppressed squeal. Sheila stopped. "You received your punishment very well, Slave. You may thank me." "Thank you, Mistress," came Amy's weak voice. Her ass was now a bright crimson, all the way from the top of her cheeks to her thighs; and globs of lubricant glistened on her asshole and pussy lips. As Sheila pressed a black leather dildo against Amy's anus, Amy tried to flinch away from the pressure, but there was no where to go. Amy's pink orifice expanded, then gave way as the tip of the dildo disappeared into her body with a moist pop. "Yeow!" said Amy as she tried to rise, but my hand between her silky shoulder blades pressed her firmly against the desk. And of course her wrists were still locked into place. Smiling, Sheila kept pushing until most of the dildo slid up Amy's ass, then she twisted it a little bit and actually sank it a little deeper. Amy groaned with the discomfort. Finally, Sheila fastened it into place with straps that she attached to a thin, leather belt which she snapped around Amy's waist. To top it all off, Sheila spent the next half hour strapping Amy's ass cheeks to an even deeper crimson, then finally she said, "Okay, the new slave is ready for transport." Sheila and I quickly unfastened the poor girl's restraints, then Amy forced herself up. She was a bit unsteady at first so I steadied her with an arm around her shoulders, while Sheila fastened a leather collar around Amy's neck. Then Sheila yanked Amy's arms behind her back and locked them together with the leather bracelets. Finally, she forced them up Amy's spine and locked her wrists on a narrow strap that hung down from the collar. In this position Amy's chest was thrust out and her breasts protruded like two pink-tipped torpedoes. I longed to squeeze them, lick them, chew on the nipples, but that would be against the bylaws of my contract, and Sheila would be sure to report me. We weren't enemies, but we weren't exactly the best of friends either. In fact our relationship was a bit hard to define, and still in a state of flux. We weren't exactly lovers, but we were not strangers to each other's bodies either. Rather, we were in a constant state of competition, which frequently involved intimate contact because of the nature of our jobs, and sometimes that carried over into recreation, and usually not in a gentle way. Sheila placed a trenchcoat around Amy's shoulder, and buttoned it up the front. The sleeves dangled uselessly, but otherwise Amy looked like any other young woman leaving a lawyer's office, except for the panties in her mouth, which Sheila now removed. No one would suspect that Amy was naked and bound beneath the coat, with a freshly spanked bottom and a dildo up her ass. "Amy," I said, to get her attention, for she was flushed and staring at the floor, looking totally blown away as they always do after such an intense session with Sheila. I had to say her name again, "Amy." And finally she looked up at me with eyes that were wide with fear. "This is a mild example of what you can expect at the Mansion. For an entire year." This was the obligatory speech I was required to give each new slave. "At this point you may back out of this arrangement if you wish. The contract can be torn up, and we can all go our separate ways, no harm done." A flicker of relief flashed across her face, as she realized she could still get out of this crazy arrangement, as they always do. But then of course she remembered the money, and a steel resolve came into her eyes. "I want to go through with it," she said. Her voice was a bit quivery, but backed by strength. And of course that was the answer I had expected. The weaklings were always weeded out before it got this far. And besides, where else could Amy earn this generous of a salary at her youthful stage of inexperience? Sheila hooked her arm around the girl's shoulders, and led her to the rear door of my office, which opened on a private freight elevator that my clients had appropriated and customized for our needs. In the parking garage below, a white limousine with tinted glass waited to take Amy to the Mansion. Before the door closed, Sheila glanced back over her shoulder at me. "This was the last recruit today, Charles," she said. "But don't leave yet. Maybe we can play a little game." Then she gave me that dark, wicked smile I knew so well, and I knew exactly what she meant. A flash of fear tightened my belly, but I nodded as the door closed behind Sheila. Yes, I was a bit fearful, but also excited. These "little games" of Sheila's were never boring. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /