Tali's TearsSubmitted by: Justin
Fenton the Felon sighed deeply, surveying the cell around him in the Montgomery County Detention Center. They had him now. From the midnight arrest at Gelmeyer Chevrolet to Fenton's discovery that Judge Vogel, sentencing jurist in this case, was the same Vogel who had caught Fenton caning Mrs. Vogel in her Little Bo Peep outfit in their den in 1983. Sentenced under the three strikes law, Fenton "Hot"Weir, Maryland's most obnoxious car thief would now be going inside for life..
Suddenly there was a clanging in the lock, and Turnkey Thompson's corpulent chin appeared. "Heads up, dirtbag... you're sprung." Fenton dropped "The Cross and the Switchblade", astonished. "I made bail?" Thompson's face was disgusted. "Worse... for the state. Gelmeyer's Mercedes dealership has dropped the charges."
Natalia Snowden, Assistant District Attorney for Montgomery County, MD, hung in her pantry, the heavy weights pulling the nipple clamps.
She closed her eyes against the hurt. Her vagina had a similar weight on it, and the ceiling hook above her was connected to a chain with a combination lock. Tali was trying to spin the dials with her long fingernails. If she could only see the numbers... Tali had minored in math, after all. Once they'd gotten back in the house, Fenton the Felon had locked her up in this contraption while he went out to see old friends at Champion Billiards... it had been three months in that damn detention center, and Fenton was lonely.
The weights were practically tearing at her nipples and genitals, Tali's arches were in incredible pain from trying to push herself up to discover the combination to free herself. Her shapely bottom was covered with fresh welts, Tali's first whipping in over a year. Fenton had become Tali's master five years before after she'd unsuccessfully prosecuted him for grand theft auto... she'd been wonderful to the guy, giving gifts, money, housing in return for whippings and abuse... and now she'd bailed him out of jail, and asked him to reunite with her... and he'd chained Tali in the pantry. Wasn't he grateful?
True, a year ago, Tali had gone to an Inner Child Encounter Seminar. ICES had convinced Tali that her desires were sick, that Fenton was just demeaning her, and she'd asked him, hesitatingly, to leave. Would there be an argument? Fenton had unlocked her chastity corset, and taken it and his whips, chains, clamps and canes, and left the house immediately, cheerfully telling Tali that he hoped she would enjoy her newfound mental health. Tali'd heard nothing from him since; except someone told her Fenton was irritated because the car locks had changed in the four years that he'd been Tali's "homemaker." (Power windows especially. He'd gotten his jacket caught in one of Gelmeyer's car windows when the flashing red lights arrived.) Tali thought she would enjoy her freedom.
Sure, for the first time in five years, Tali could masturbate whenever she wanted, no more evil chastity corset and allotted monthly orgasms; Tali also could now have actual sex, and lots of appreciative, worshipful guys, many of whom were far more handsome than Fenton who was, after all a short half-Jewish black guy with thick glasses and a hook nose.
But Tali found that whether she was stroking herself, or some corporate attorney was going down on her, all she could think of was Fenton's Barber's razor strop hitting her ass. Fenton forcing Tali to go down on Salvation Army drunks for a quarter each-Tali, who had once been a model for "Mirabella " magazine.
Getting the cattle prod in her ass while tied to Fenton's basement pool table. Being Fenton's receptacle whenever he wanted to take a whiz. That especially. Tali having her case review interrupted so she could kneel on the cold bathroom tiles and have her Master pee into her mouth, and then using her mouth to blow him. The time Fenton and his daughter whipped Tali with thorns and nettles in the woods... even the memories of the hours and hours she was locked in the hot, sweaty steamer trunk, next to the bed where Fenton screwed coeds aroused Tali these days.
And Tali's production at work flagged. You wouldn't think a live-in relationship with a career auto thief would be good for a prosecuting attorney, but Tali, who had been a weekend cokehead and who could drink any frat boy under the table, quit drinking, smoking and drugs under Fenton's regimen.
Running on her treadmill naked at seven miles an hour while Fenton's cane encouraged her on, being forced to stand for long periods of time on her arches while being manacled somewhere or other... it was remarkable. Tali had learned incredible self-discipline, and had lost twelve pounds in her first year as Fenton's slave.
Since they'd broken up, Tali had gone from a hundred ten pounds to one forty-five. There were gray hairs in her curls, and Jesus, she was only thirty-five! A few months ago, Tali had finally gotten in touch with Fenton, and he'd hung up on her, laughing, when she'd begged him to come back.
Fenton had a nineteen year old flight attendant looking after him now, with another gorgeous little slave-girl, a banker paying their rent for the trio... but something must've happened there, because when the bust at Gelmeyer's came, no one was there to pay for Fenton's defense.
And here Tali had gone out on a limb to convince Leon Gelmeyer to drop the charges. Tali had done this by giving Gelmeyer a sweet state contract as the supplier of vehicles for the courthouse 'til 2015. So here Fenton was, free as a bird. And he'd admitted that before the bust, he'd been living in his car, after the banker's ex-husband had committed her someplace. Now here he was, a fifty-six year old balding half-breed ex-con with no job skills... back in the lap of luxury..did he care?
Finally, the combination spun correctly, and the lock popped open, and Tali quickly removed her tit and clit weights, and leaned over to open the pantry door. It was locked. Tali sunk to her knees and began to cry, but at the same time, her fingers found her aching pussy and began working feverishly. Fenton the Felon and Dirty Don sat in the living room of the two bedroom condo that Don shared with his slave-boy, Skip. They had played one-ball with some friends at Champion Billiards, and now were relaxing, and discussing Fenton's recent troubles. "You really should take Tali back, Fenton" Don said seriously.
"Even though you never said so, Skip and I both thought you were very hurt when she went through that therapy crap..but she's sorry now, and after all, she just got you out of doing life as a habitual offender." Don snickered. "You got to get the message, man... if you get caught again, it's really all over. For old thieves like us, that life don't appeal... and neither of us likes work. It's a four letter word, like soap."
The two laughed uproariously. "It's true, Don... other than stealing cars, all I know how to do is keep a rich submissive... " Fenton mused. "Not a bad skill at that, dude... better than mopping McDonalds." The two laughed again.
The door opened, and a well dressed man of 29 came in, his blue Armani suit and briefcase a stark contrast with the concert T-shirts of the middle aged ex-convicts. He was, it seemed in heated dialogue on a cell phone.
"I don't care, Brett... Lucent Technologies is through. Push Nortel. It's reported a fourth-quarter profit of... " The young man listened intently, and grew crimson. "I don't give a damn! You do what I say, or crawl back to Morgan Stanley!" The young man clicked off the cell, and noted the two old criminals staring at him. Suddenly, all the color drained out of his face.
"Master... I didn't know you'd be home so early." The young man put his cell phone into his briefcase and set the case on the carpet. "I'm so sorry, Master... I meant to do the chores, but I worked late.Good to see you, Sir Fenton." Rapidly he stripped naked, and walked over and knelt in front of Don, kissing and licking the mud off Don's combat boots.
"I see you've moved Skip from a chastity device to a Prince Albert, Don." Fenton was looking at the young man's penis, which was hooked into his scrotum with an evil little padlocked device, preventing him from masturbation or any other sexual activity.
Skip's penis, curved into a loop, was growing tumescent and trembling as his excitement rose. Fenton also noticed that there was a black rubber stump sticking out of Skip's rectum. This, he knew was probably a two-foot butt plug, that Skip had to wear all day at work, except when he needed to defecate.
Skip's ass and back legs were covered with scars, old and new, from belts, whips, canes and switches. "I've put male slaves into the Prince Albert, it's served me well."
"That's so, Fenton... this way if I want to torture Skip's wee-wee a little, I don't have to take it out of a damn cock cage." Don kicked Skip gently in the face, and Skip backed off from licking Don's shoe. "I'll show you all the power this piercing gives me." Don spoke sharply to Skip. "So you think you can set your own hours, do you? Your Master comes home to no dinner and a dirty bathroom.
Go get in your Princess outfit and bring me my Lucky Strikes, boy." Skip looked up with brimming eyes. Skip's nose was bleeding slightly from Don's boot. "No, please, Master, not with the cigarettes. I had-had to work late, I-" "What crap. You own the company, you just wanted to make more money today... and you've got plenty of dinero." Don said disgustedly.
"Arguing with your Master, too? For the greed that kept your Master from his dinner, and arguing with his punishment, you can grab your ankles." Skip blanched, and bent over, seizing his ankles.
Fenton was always amazed that Don had trained Skip to do this. Skip had done enough crunches and sit-ups, so he could be a pretzel if he liked, and Don had had Skip on display at a Tawse Society party. Skip had his legs jacked over his head, and had been sucking his own dick... autofellatio. But now, Skip's bottom was on display as he kept his ankles secure. "Fenton, give him a few with your belt." Don grinned. "You have a better arm than me."
Fenton, in fact had been Don's mentor into the SM world. Retired bank robbers get no Social Security, and Fenton and Tali had helped Don get into the marvelous situation he was in now, living in a young millionaires apartment, and getting forty grand a year in walking around money. "Fenton, give the boy as much as possible... he needs the arrogance beaten out of him."
Skip protested, staring at Don upside down. "Master, I thought we agreed I would only get chastisement from your hands.' Don laughed. "Yes, and we also agreed that you would be home no later than seven o'clock every night... but agreements are broken, aren't they, Skipper? You talk too much, boy.Let's shut you up."
Don got up and pulled the two foot plug out of Skip's rectum and handed it to Skip, who took one hand off an ankle. The plug, or really dildo, was covered in fecal matter from a day in Skip's butt, but Skip put the plug into his mouth, deep throating it, before grabbing his left ankle again.
Don handed Fenton a large steel paddle with a see-through pattern of roses. The holes between the small bars of the paddle made the steel punisher fly more quickly through the air as it connected to Skip's bottom the first time. WHACK WHACK-"I guess the problem is, Don... these yuppies WHACK WHACK WHACK-want to be WHACK slaves and then WHACK spend so much time at the office WHACK WHACK that there's no time for WHACK looking after a Master, eh?" Don nodded, as he watched Skip take the brutal paddling in silence.
The steel rose-petal pattern was etching itself on his bottom, and the welts were rising with a vengeance. "It's true, Fenton." Don said. "I remember geeks like Skipper here in high school... stamp club, Honor Society, yearbook committee, no time to live." Fenton swung the steel paddle again. "Yes WHACK WHACK I've been trying to teach WHACK WHACK WHACK Tali to live WHACK WHACK for some time.."
Finally Fenton put the steel paddle down on a hassock. Skip had since dropped the shit-covered dildo out of his mouth, but still had made no sound. He continued to grab his ankles, his bottom a hornet's nest of welts and misery. "Tali got involved in this therapy nonsense after listening to feminists at work, or something. "
Fenton was about to remove his belt, when Don handed him a barber's razor strop. Fenton fingered it, holding the leather to his cheek. "I don't know what Tali's priorities are now... but I won't live with her if she's going to do all that therapy crap." Fenton lifted the strap and brought it across the back of Skip's quivering legs. THWACK THWACK TWHACK "At least Skipper here doesn't THWACK THWACK THWACK have therapeutic delusions of grandeur, does he? You looked after that, eh?"
Don laughed. Skip had briefly had an analyst, a woman of about forty, who had been trying to cure Skip's "paraphilia"... but after she'd met Don, he'd ended up giving her an over-the knee spanking as well, and she still came over on the weekends for sessions.
Fenton continued with the razor strop, giving Skip thirty vicious strokes in all, which the boy took in silence. After Fenton replaced his belt, Skip stood up, and tottered into the bedroom. Don laughed. "He reminds me of a punk I had in San Quentin, except Skip is even more obedient, I think." Skip came back out, dressed in thigh high stockings, pink heels and a see through pink teddy with frilly panties. In one hand Skip carried Don's Luckies.
Don took the cigarettes, motioning Skip to stand in front of him. "You know, Fenton, I don't smoke much anymore... I've always preferred snuff." Don lit a cigarette." But this is a great use for the things." "Master, please" Skip was trembling and there were tears in his eyes. "Don't-don't burn my poor penis-I'm so sorry I worked late." Don ignored Skip and said to Fenton "All this pleading is so boring... I may have to lock this one in the closet all weekend, and he's got a golf tournament tomorrow, I think."
Skip shook his head. "No, I can forget the golf tournament... but I can't, can't get burned... please... a weekend in the closet will be okay." Don laughed. "All right, a weekend it is." Skip looked relieved and then Don said "But you're still getting your ciggie treatment." Skip burst into tears... he had just lost the golf tournament that he had pleaded with Don for months to allow him to participate in, and would be in a sweltering closet... and still would have his cock and balls burned by the evil Luckie.
Don snapped his fingers, and Skip grimaced, pulling his panties to knee length with one hand while he pulled up his teddy with the other. Skip's penis, still connected by foreskin to scrotum in the evil Prince Albert, shook in its growing arc.
"Now watch this... I don't have to unlock him at all to do a little CBT." Don said. He knocked some ash off the cigarette, and pressed it into a section of the bowed penis, burning a little red mark into Skip's organ. Skip winced, but made no sound.
"Whenever I took him out of the cage for his cock and ball torture" Don said, as he pulled the butt back, sticking it onto the glans, just above the metal ring,"Skipper would often run off and jerk himself, since he only gets to cum these days about every two weeks or so." This time Skip screamed, and Don withdrew the cigarette. "See? I held it there so long, that I put the damn thing out." Don looked at his cigarette ruefully. There were now several burn marks on Skip's penis.
"That happens when I put my cigars out on Tali's behind." Fenton said sympathetically. "If I hold them too long, they stop being lit." Don nodded, and threw the cigarette into a waste basket, much to Skip's relief. "Also," Don said to Fenton, "Now I can just give it to him in the breadbasket-" Don kicked Skip viciously in the balls, and the slave fell over, moaning-"without having to take anything off!" Fenton nodded seriously. These educational seminars were so important to him. "It's great... you've really come a long way as a Master, Donnie... but I feel like I don't want to be dependent on a slave, I want to do some kind of work, but it looks like car theft is surely out." Fenton looked depressed. Don's eyes suddenly lit up. "I just thought of something you could do, and be paid for... Prattsie called looking for you! She needs helpers!" Fenton lookd startled. Miss Pratt's Academy?
Tali moved uncomfortably around in her chair. Her bladder was about to explode, she felt... and holding in Number Two wasn't going so well, either. Fenton had been back in her life for a month now, and Tali was glad for it, so glad... but she was still not used to losing some of the privileges of her year of freedom. Such as... being able to go to the john when you wanted to. True, she had a writing assignment to do... her hand felt terribly numb. Tali had to write one thousand times, "I must not insult Master Fenton's guests." Tali was trapped-she was wearing her old hated chastity corset, the horrific leather and rubber thing that resembled a strapless one piece bathing suit-it went from just over her thighs to just above her breasts, lacing from the back, and with a numbered lock mechanism.
Earlier that afternoon, Tali had come home, from the Farmer's Market with some mangoes and Finnish black bread and other sundries, and had walked in on Fenton giving it to some little bimbo in the living room. Tali had been in a great mood, Saturdays were always fun, and Fenton had talked about perhaps taking in a movie later that evening. He could be so sweet when he wanted to be.
Unfortunately, she'd caught him on top of this little redhead who clerked at the Dixie Pig barbecue place, and worse, having forgotten the srictures of her peculiar relationship with Fenton during the fourteen months they'd been apart, Tali had made the mistake of speaking her mind.
As Fenton started, looking around at her, and the Dixie Pig piglet closed her eyes in shock, Tali said "So, this is what you're going to do with your weekend? Boff some little bimbo in this living room?" Tali had barely gotten "room" out of her mouth, when Fenton leapt to his feet, still naked, and grabbed Tali by the hair.
As the girl watched, Fenton dragged Tali over his knee, pulling up her halter top and dragging down her cut-offs "Belinda, hand me my belt!" Tali had taken fifty across her bare cheeks as the girl giggled nervously-it was so humiliating.
Then she'd been forced to strip naked and kneel before Belinda and beg her pardon for using the word "Bimbo." Fenton had then let Belinda hit the young D.A. across the ass several times with his belt, before her brother, the vocational school drop-out had come by and picked Belinda up. He had also gotten a little oral attention from Tali before he'd left.
After the white trash departed, Fenton had pulled out the chastity corset, which Tali had not seen since they'd gotten back together. Fenton had used it on her regularly for five of the eight years they'd been together. Tali had hoped, after buying Fenton out of jail, that he'd lost the corset thing, but apparently not.
Tali had been locked in it, and ordered to write 1,000 times" I must not insult Master Fenton's guests." The first few hours had just been irritating and hot, but then Tali's arm grew quite numb, and then Tali realized that she really needed to go to the bathroom... but Fenton kept repeating "After you finish the sentences, Tali... or do you need a few more sentences, say one thousand fifty?"
With the hated corset, Tali was unable to have unauthorized sex, masturbation or even bathroom trips. Yes, Tali had to beg Fenton to unlock the combination lock on the back of her corset in order to use the john.
This had caused untold problems for Tali, as she'd had to either run home to have Fenton unlock her so she could pee, or she'd have to bribe Fenton to come to work to let her loose to go. But now, Fenton was in the next room, deep in his Aeschylus, and Tali could not ask him to unlock the corset until she had finished her 1,000 sentences.
Oh, the pain in her bowels. Tali had felt uncommonly painful feelings in her bladder, but peeing herself was not nearly as uncomfortable as going poo-poo and not getting the corset off. Tali was probably one of the very rare women in their thirties who was not a retardate and had STILL regularly experienced diaper rash.
Ooh. Tali couldn't hold it in much longer. She had only written seven hundred and fifty-one sentences, too. (There had been a few more, but Fenton had ripped up one page because he thought it was sloppy.)
"Fenton, you have lots of experience in the S&M community... it would be a great idea." Prattsie smiled. "And I pay well." Fenton shook his head. "Jesus, you look like a schoolmarm these days... " It was true. Prattsie, "Miss Pratt" to her submissives, had tied back her long hair in a bun, and wore a starched long dress now. She had the whole strict governess thing going on, with an umbrella stand filled with canes and switches right next to her desk. Fenton smiled "I guess it would be a good idea. I've never dommed anyone directly for cash, though." He scratched his ear. "Being an dominant Master is just part of who I am... sometimes the slavegirls I've had have been very, um... generous to me, but it's kind of pimp-ish I think to just charge for a session.."
Prattsie smiled. "But Fenton, many submissives WANT to give us their money. It's good for their subjugation,and thus good for us, as well. And you're very good at living off of submissive women, or so I'm told." Fenton looked slightly ill. He felt unethical in interviewing at Miss Pratt's Academy... he had never thought of himself as a professional dominant, leaving that sort of position to hackneyed whore-types. But clearly, Fenton's thieving days were over. He'd had five imprisonments in a three-strike state, and besides, the new cars were way too difficult to break into. The electricity of the new cars absolutely mystified him.
And, in fact, Fenton was good, very good at getting money out of women. Tali had been a golden goose, and the pathetic chick that he'd seen before Tali, sad little Kim, had just been incredible. Fenton had put a chastity belt on Kim in his third month of dating her, and had forced Kim to service him and many of his friends with her mouth and her rear without giving her a single orgasm for nearly six months.
Kim had dutifully complied, even not complaining when Fenton would tie her to the bed, take off the belt and tease her for forty minutes to an hour at a time with the vibrator before re-locking her in the belt. But at some point it had been too much, and Kim had begged Fenton, with tears in her eyes to allow her to orgasm.
"Please, Fenton, I know you won't fuck me, I'm not good enough for that... but I suck you off ten times a day, couldn't I at least masturbate?" Kim looked at Fenton pleadingly. "Oh, honey... sure!" Fenton had said in a cheerful tone. "Give me a quarter, and I'll let you diddle yourself." Kim had looked at Fenton disbelievingly, but she'd run to her purse and brought him twenty-five cents, and then she'd been allowed to unlock herself and begin masturbating while Fenton beat a tattoo on her breasts with a car ariel.
A week later, Kim had approached Fenton hesitantly. "I'm so horny again, honey. Could I have the key? I'll give you a quarter if you want." Fenton had smiled again. "I'll give you the key, but it's fifty cents this time." Kim handed over the half dollar and had grabbed the vibrator and the key to her chastity belt and had run into the bathroom. That orgasm had been so good, that she'd happily given Fenton a dollar an hour or two later for another chance with the vibrator and the key.
Two weeks later, Kim had hesitatingly given Fenton one hundred dollars for her key. "So I guess it'll be two hundred bucks the next time, Sir?" Fenton had grinned. "And four hundred the time after that, m'dear." Within a year, he'd taken her grandmother's inheritance and emptied her trust fund. Then, of course, Fenton had been caught looting a Lexus dealership and had had to use most of that money to bribe a judge.
During the time that Fenton had been seeing Kim, he'd also been "working" for Candace, who owned a real estate firm. Fenton had been employed as a surveyor, charged with assessing the value of prospective salable houses, which had pleased his parole officer to no end.
Fenton knew nothing about getting comps, or measuring rooms... but he'd met up with Candace at a variety of sites when the sellers were not there, and they'd had marvelous sessions in each room, once he'd thrown Candace, stark naked, into a rose bush in the backyard of a house she later sold for 1.2 million.
Suddenly, Miss Pratt's door opened, and the humongous black man who had let Fenton in walked into the office, holding a dark haired woman by the scruff of the neck. "Vivian got in late, I am afraid, Miss Pratt." said Samuel smoothly.
Fenton licked his lips as he surveyed Vivian, naked exept for two mousetraps on each nipple and four traps on her cunt lips and around her shapely bottom. "I shaved Vivian's pubic area and have applied little traps, and I was wondering whether you wish to work her here, or shall I put her in the closet for later?"
Miss Pratt looked at Vivian. "Do you have any business meetings this afternoon?" as if they were working out a schedule at the White House. "No Miss Pratt." Vivian said hesitantly. "Good, then you can go with Master Fenton now!" Miss Pratt pushed Vivian towards Fenton, and he got up, bored and began dragging her out of the room by the hair. "But I'm a committed lesbian, Miss Pratt! I want a woman domme!" Vivian screamed. "Welcome to S&M, darling." Miss Pratt responded, smiling.
ONE MONTH LATER
WHACK! Fenton the Felon, now an employee of Miss Pratt's Academy, carefully landed the rattan cane directly across the regal woman's full pink breasts. She gasped, but didn't say anything.
Celia bit her tongue... oh it stung so much. But what precision the ugly little man has! Celia, a veteran of many dungeons and Masters was astonished at how scientifically Fenton landed the rod on her oh so scorched nipples.
Fenton marveled at how carefully Celia knelt on the floor, nude, with one hand holding the other wrist behind her back. "That's the test, you see." Dr. Celia Andrews had told him. "Can I keep from grabbing my chest as I'm thrashed? I'm given too much credit for my professional accomplishments. What can I prove at a real challenge, my Master?" Fenton smiled and bent the cane, stepping back and then hopping forwards WHACK! Again the cane landed, this time just across Celia's right nipple.
She flinched, but just barely. "You get such a kick out of this, don't you, Celia?" Fenton asked pleasantly as he waved the rattan in front of her face.
Oh, this hurts. Do I love it? I'm wet, so wet, but I should get out of here. He is such a nasty man, Celia thought. How could he know that hitting just one boob instead of two would hurt so much more?
"Your precious tits, the ones that everyone wants... getting their due. But there's more pain, not as sexual, elsewhere." Dr. Andrews had been sincere about being brought down. "I'm tired of holding court, of having all the answers."
"Yes, it's true... hitting your boobs isn't everything, dear." Fenton turned around and reached into a chest and brought out a peculiar wand shaped thing with a cylinder shaped handle.
"Dear, this is called a cattle-prod" Fenton said joyfully. He rubbed the end of the wand tenderly. "They came out in the fifties, though I didn't see my first one until I was locked up on a prison farm in Southern Maryland when I was about seventeen--they do make the heifers move." Good God, he's been to prison, Celia thought. I can't fucking believe what I've let myself in for! He's insane! I'm terrified! He might kill me! I want him to fuck me! What?
Fenton leaned over and touched the wand to Celia's shoulder and a tremendous shock ran through her body, and she jumped back, screaming. Though Fenton noticed she still clutched her hands behind her back. That was really good!
"You see?" Fenton asked genially. "You're just a heifer like the rest, though you have the good fortune to be a medical doctor instead of a cow of the traditional sort." Fenton snorted and stepped forward, waving the prod.
Fenton touched the prod to the end of Celia's chest. "How you like them apples--get it?" Again Celia jumped, the shock felt as if it had ripped through her bones, she fell on her kneees and burst into tears, trembling. Fenton tossed the prod behind him, and reached into his jacket for a pack of Marlboros.
Fenton lit a cigarette, and inhaled.
As a rule, Fenton was not much of a smoker these days, but it helped a great deal in the sessions. "Did you go to Catholic school, Celia?" Fenton asked, the Marlboro dangling from his lips. Celia nodded silently. Fenton could tell her breasts were just aching.
"How's your butt feel? Are you having trouble holding them in, dear?" Fenton asked. Celia nodded briefly. At the beginning of the session, Fenton had shoved three frozen tomatoes up Celia's rectum, and she'd been forced to hold them. The ice cold fruit (yes it was a fruit, not a vegetable,she'd learned in school) was so cold that it was burning her insides, sending Celia's anus into spasms.
"Master, why did you ask me if I'd gone to Catholic schools?" Celia asked politely, trying to ignore the agonies in her ass. Fenton twitched his nose.
"You look like the type. And you probably went in the old days--before psychology." He saw a hint of a smile on Celia's face. Fenton had to give it to the girl, she was kneeling straight, and her posture was perfect. Fenton inhaled again, and looked at the ash of the Marlboro. "Is there an ashtray in this room? No, don't look like it."
God, he would smoke. All these blue-collar types do. So unlike Sir Stephen in "Story of O". Celia's dainty little nose had quite a bit of intolerance to cigarette smoke--she'd puked once when someone puffed ahead of her on the street--and she had a little athsma. But he must smoke, mustn't he. Could it get worse?
Fenton smiled at the kneeling psychopharmacologist. "Open up there, girlie." Celia looked puzzled. Then she realized Fenton wanted her to open her mouth. A look of revulsion came over her. Good! Fenton had been a bit annoyed at his inability to make Miss Celia scream, she was obviously proud of being a tolerant and well behaved slave, pain didn't get her, let's see what else could.
Celia shook her head, and Fenton looked questioningly, as he held the long ashed cigarette above her head. "You-you don't understand. I don't smoke... it's so gross. I can't even eat off a dish if someone has used it as an ashtray even if it's cleaned off again, I... "
Fenton lightly slapped the cane across Celia's mouth, and tears streaming from her eyes, Dr. Celia Andrews opened her mouth. Fenton tapped the ash in, and puffed the cigarette again, killed the tip and threw it in her mouth. "Swallow darling." Fenton said, smiling cruelly.
"Think, if I hadn't had to listen to that little speech, I might have just knocked a few ashes in there, but now you have to eat an entire cigarette butt." Celia was trying not to gag as she swallowed the cigarette butt whole. Fenton chuckled. "My girlfriend Tali... I've taken her down town and made her bend down and eat out those sand-butt cigarette things in the bus station... she's a lawyer like you're a doctor... filled with her own self-importance." Fenton snorted.
Celia appeared to have swallowed the butt, and was now just kneeling miserably. One upside, perhaps was that her nausea had taken her mind off the fact that her breasts had been just beaten with a cane. Fenton noticed that she still hadn't let go of her wrist with her hand. They were still behind her back. Good girl.
Celia gagged "I might vomit this up" she mumbled. "No, you won't" Fenton said gently. "No, I really might" Celia said, gagging and hacking. "Well if you do," Fenton said sorrowfully, "I'll have to hit you with the cattle prod again. Maybe you can make it go down. Bulemia doesn't turn me on, baby." Celia, appalled by his callousness, made a serious effort to swallow... but she wanted to puke!
Could I vomit for the next twenty years? Celia thought as she swallowed the disgusting thing, the cigarette butt, finally. Oh God, this is the worst experience in my whole twenty years in the scene... but I do want to go home and masturbate... go home, please! But, I want to suck his cock, too. What the hell's wrong with me? Her distended rectum was in acute pain from the frozen tomatoes, and she imagined that when she had them drop out, it might have the feeling of laying eggs.
"So back to our discussion of Catholic school punishments, Dr. Andrews... " Fenton smiled. "I never went to parochial school myself, but I spent my formative years in a nice Dominican orphanage, and I recall well having my palms swatted with a ruler... ever happen to you?" Celia shook her head. "I was a good student, a hall monitor, actually never got punished..but it happened to other classmates. I saw their reddened palms afterwards."
Actually, Celia had quite enjoyed turning other kids in, and watching Sister land the ruler on their palms, or once or twice, while volunteering in the office, she'd hid behind a cupboard and watched Father O'Cavanaugh giving the strap to a couple of boys after she'd reported them for writing SHIT on the wall.
Fenton rolled his eyes. "Yes, the model student. The obedient one. Well, you're going to experience it now. Let go of your wrist and hold out your hand." Celia looked startled, but her left hand came out from behind her back. "Out further" Fenton could tell that this one really scared her. Her palm looked as if it might get snatched back at any time.
God, no... please, Celia thought. He can't hit me on the palm That's not sexy. Isn't this supposed to be sexy S&M stuff? But what had she said to Miss Pratt? "I want something different, Miss Pratt. I want a Master or Mistress who will give me an intense experience like I've never had." Miss Pratt's mouth twitched. "Well, Dr. Andrews, you know we are here to oblige."
"You know, you're so scared, Celia." Fenton smiled genially, and Celia, who was a bit teary still, smiled back. "Maybe we should start easy, dear." Fenton choked back a laugh as he watched Celia look adoringly at him. Precious. She thinks I'm going to let her off. This honestly is more fun than stealing cars.
"You like me, don't you?" Fenton's honeyed voice appealed to Celia, who batted her eyes at Fenton. "Yes, Sir, you're w-wonderful. Quite at-attractive." "How so, dear?" Fenton looked down at her waving the cane. Celia looked doubtfully at the five foot five inch half-breed Negro with the obviously Jewish schnozz, and the weather-beaten mended spectacles. Fenton's yellow teeth gleamed as he smiled at her, and Celia tried not to notice his extensive nose hairs. "Y-you have such presence, Master. And -and you look like-uh Cuba Gooding, Jr." Oh, maybe that will make him not want to hit me... he is black, right?
The pain in her rectum, from the frozen tomatoes was searing, but she looked up at ugly little Fenton the Felon, remembering her debutante days... her skill at seducing men. She licked her lips. "You're a hot guy, Sir." Celia gave him a smouldering look and hoped for the best.
Oh, mercy me, Fenton thought, watching the naked doctor, breasts welted, holding out a lone shaking palm.That's the best sucking up she can do? He recalled a line from the memoirs of Oliver Lyttleton "Flattery is the infantry of negotiation" Ho ho... forget it babe.
"Well since you think so much of me, I want to make things easier for you... so why don't you close your eyes, that way you won't see the cane coming... it'll be like getting a shot at the doctor's. Go on." Celia trembled, but she closed her eyes, and kept her hand out, desperately. Fenton smirked and lifted the cane. SLAP! The cane came down hard across Celia's palm, and her eyes opened widely. She jerked her palm away and pushed it under her armpit, presumably to warm it. Oh yes... she's much more human now, than she was when she strutted in here an hour ago, Fenton thought. Fenton looked at Dr. Celia Andrews without smiling. The well-dressed woman was sitting in the leather chair. Luxurious honey-blonde hair was piled up on her head, and it was obvious the purse she carried was from Hermes. Fenton shook his head. This was his first presentable client in the two weeks since he'd been working at Miss Pratt's. He'd gotten a lot of self-hating fat girls a hairy transsexual and one amputee-- ugh! All wanted the strap, but not too hard--turned out they didn't hate themselves as much as they thought, or were just wimps.
Although Fenton had an appreciation for beautiful women, he was aware many were just prima donnas, and thus was not as enthusiastic about this woman, though Prattsie had advised him that Celia was paying quite well. Fenton noted her breasts heaving in a silk blouse.
She looked as if she were going to go to work later at some marketing job and be a real ball-buster, a Nurse Ratched type.But wait, she's a doctor. "What sort of physician are you?"Fenton asked curiously. He'd just completed "The Prognostics and Prorrhetics of Hippocrates" which had been a stretch even for his Greek lexicon, and he was curious about the medical profession.
"I'm a psychopharmacologist--it's complicated." Dr. Celia Andrews had said shortly, wondering what her profession had to do with an S&M session. "Oh yes, you're like a bartender, except that after you listen to their problems you hand out Benzedrine instead of bourbon." Fenton had chuckled, and ordered the pharmacologist to strip off her clothes. Now, he watched Celia blow on her hand, and look up at him tearfully.
Her hand was in horrific agony, the palm was swelling up... and from her behind? The ice cold tomatoes felt as if they might pop out of Celia's buttocks. She had to keep her butt clinched, but it seemed impossible. This with having to deal with the intensive pain in her palm. "Master? Could I please, please release the tomatoes now, sir? My gluteous maximus is so hurting." Fenton smiled. "Beg me dear" Celia begged, tears ran down her face. "Please oh please Sir Fenton... won't you let me release my tomatoes." Fenton roared. "What a way to put it!" He looked through his mended spectacles at the suffering doctor, clinching her butt and blowing on her palm. "The answer is no, dear. Learn self control... remember, I could put the prod up your little tushie too!" Celia bit her lip and stayed very still.
"Maybe we should try something else... Master?" Celia looked pitiful.
Of course she was now hoping he would return to caning her breasts, or her ass... this hand thing was a drag! But then again, Fenton was not a traditional Master. No, he found torture in original places.
In his youth, the Felon had read of hair shirts in John Wycliff's translation of the Bible, and had been fascinated by the description of a coarse shirt made of goats' hair that caused the wearer to feel as if they'd just gone through a particularly sloppy haircut... thousands of itchy,stinging hairs all over the body! And the monks had worn this thing under their robes.
Fenton had liberated a hair shirt from his burglary of a Trappist monastery (though he'd originally been there to steal an apple-picker) and he'd constructed "hair brassieres" for a number of Miss Pratt's clients who needed extra "tuition" out of sessions. They locked on and the poor girls had to wear them for a full week between visits to the Academy, up at work, and home at night... Fenton wondered if a hair bra might do Dr. Celia Andrews good.
Or perhaps he could whip each of her fingers individually with the cane, that might be fun... or make her eat the tomatoes after they came out of her ass. Celia was looking at him with intensity. Maybe he'd gone too far. "Penny for your thoughts, slave-girl." Fenton asked. "I-sir I wanted to know whether I could see you every week." Celia's hand was feeling better, and she looked at Fenton the Felon anxiously. There was a knock on the door, and Samuel looked in "Fenton, it's your girlfriend Tali on the phone" Fenton took the line--he refused to get a cell phone--"Yes, oh little shitbag?"
Tali's voce came fervently. "Fenton, I understand that you were hurt that we broke up, and I am so glad we're back together, but PLEASE don't work at Miss Pratt's--Fenton, I want you all to myself, and I'll never leave again. As a matter of fact, I'll sign my house and my investments over to you for security, but please quit that silly job and come home to me!" Fenton chuckled. "I'll think about it." He clicked off without saying goodbye and handed the phone back to Samuel. He looked in Celia's pleading eyes. It was good money... but Tali's ass is cuter... and there are tomatoes at home...
Page last updated 2008-Aug-02 by: Altairboy@aol.com