Sandy's Deal

Sandy's Deal, Part 1

SANDI'S DEAL, Pt.1

I'd been interviewing possible replacements for my mistress Sandi, who'd

moved away six months before, and now lived on the West Coast. It was

getting urgent. I missed her, but I needed to find a way to satisfy myself.

But now I wonder: Or had they been interviewing me? More the

latter, really. As you'd expect with a submissive guy like me.

I'd checked into a decent hotel, our local Marriott Courtyard. And

I'd let them visit, in turn. Inevitably, because of my sexual outlook, it

had turned into more than just a polite chat in each case. You know how it

is, I'm sure. I'd ended up showing myself naked to each of them to convince

them that I was worthy. I'd been brutally whipped, hard enough to mark me

for days. I'd been on my knees licking shoes, boots, sweaty feet and pussy.

I'd been pissed on. I'd been made to jerk off, and eaten my own semen. And

I'd enjoyed every filthy minute.

They were so diverse, yet so perfect, each one.

Yet, I still didn't know which one I wanted to serve full time. I

guess there really had never been any doubt about what I'd end up doing. I

looked through my Daytimer, then picked up the phone and dialled Sandi's

new number.

She answered on the second ring, and was evidently pleased to hear

from me. "Hey, just thinking about you. It's been a few weeks now. What

took you so long, slave? Let me guess. Need some advice?"

I explained what I'd been trying to set up, and how I'd gone about

it, hearing a conditional approval in her voice.

"Like it. What did your ad say?"

"Let's see . . . . 'SWM, 45, former exec, writer, has large midtown

house, country

retreat, to share with Dominant Female. Your own apt. No charge. Privacy.

Must want to own/train a slave. Box 208.' I kept it simple . . ."

"Good, and you got, uh, how many?"

"A half dozen, but only a few to be taken seriously." I quickly ran

through the list of the three women I'd found in the classifieds. And she

commented, "that was a lucky find," when I described the surprise addition

of Diana.

"Okay, so run through them more carefully, huh? Tell me what they

were like," she said. I could hear her light a cigarette, pour a drink.

"Well, Linda was the first. She's just an inexperienced college

kid, in her early twenties. Very young-looking, and fit. But she is

wonderfully rough. Uh, she threatened to humiliate me in front of her

friends -- they'd all be about her age, and just as cute, no doubt. That's

a very exciting idea."

"Oh, I bet, you like the nymphet types, I know," Sandi laughed.

"And legal is better. Think of the trouble your ex-wife caused over the

babysitter . . ."

"Yes. I'm careful now. I imagine they'd be giggly and coy at first.

Which would be an incredibly arousing experience. But Linda's the

older-sister type who will take charge, and set an example. I'm sure with

her that my role as entertainer would go beyond jerking off and similar

exhibitionism. I'll ending up paying for the thrill of showing them my

body. She'll see to it that they take up whips and make me suffer, too."

"So, that sounds quite good. Not quite your type, from past form.

But promising. So, what's the next?"

"Uh, a woman called Mistress Jane? A sort of bored housewife type,

in her thirties. I think she works in a library. Doing a business studies

course. She told me she's never done anything like this before. You'd never

know!"

"What is she like, physically?"

"Small, dark haired. Submitting to a small, supremely confident

woman is deeply exciting, to a big guy like me. You know that . . ."

Sandi laughed. The description fit her too.

"Jane, I think, is the type who would happily go to the kinds of

physical extremes that I love in theory, but that scare me in practice."

"Ah! Right."

"You know all this. I want a woman to be hard on me. But Jane was

very cruel to me, almost reckless. Once she gets started, she'll be hard

to stop. How brave am I? With Jane, I worry there's the risk of real pain,

of surprise visits to the emergency room, the frowns of disapproving

doctors, of scars."

"I love it," Sandi chuckled. "You know, as you get older, dear, you

may need someone as nasty as that to get you off. And you shouldn't worry

about scars. They're badges of honor, for a submissive, aren't they? Don't

rule her out, okay? And the third one?"

"Heather? She's oh, thirty five, blonde, a bit heavier than the

others. Rather quiet, in a dark brooding way. She knows how a submissive's

mind works."

"Oh? more than the others?"

"Yes. She, well, I can tell you I suppose . . . she forced me to

lick her ass."

Sandi gave a hoot of laughter. "Great! Oh, I wish I'd seen that!

So, did you think I'd be offended, or something? No, you need to do that .

. ."

I confessed: "it was especially humiliating, because I thought

you'd be mad at me, yes. I couldn't resist. You know that. It's something

I've longed for. There have been other women I've wanted to lick. But

somehow, apart from you, it's been too much for me to ask. I'm always too

ashamed to suggest it."

"Well, it's a sure sign of slavery, that's for sure. There's no

going back after you've stuck your tongue up a woman's ass. She never looks

at you the same way again . . ." Sandi said, giggling a little. "It's the

act of total, shameful submission. It defined our relationship, forever,

didn't it?"

"Yes, my lady. And that's not all. She pried a secret out of me.

That you had promised to completely dominate me."

Sandi snorted. "You mean, she made you confess that you'd consented

to me breaking you?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Oh, that's very interesting, isn't it? So, is she as mean as me,

would you say?"

"I can't tell. She may be." I could hear the tremor in my voice.

"She's the type who could be merciless. The others might, too. But she's

the one who made me confess the idea, and she leaped right on it. Said that

two days of punishment wasn't enough . . ."

"Oh?" Sandi asked. She's always thought she could make me submit

completely in that time.

"Yes. She said that I needed longer, and to start planning for it.

She says a breaking-in session is 'most certainly in my immediate future.' "

"Tell me more. I really like the sound of her."

"Well, I guess I did too. She really had me mesmerized. I was

literally shaking as she described her intentions for me, if she moved in."

"Such as?"

"She said, uh, your only fault was being a little too tenderhearted

. . . that two days is way too kind. She said: 'When I break you, slave,

you'll know you've been dominated . . .' Meaning, I'll get some bigtime

torture."

"Come on, like what?"

"Like, oh, about . . . ten solid days and nights in straps and

chains, totally restrained and helpless, gagged . . . under the whip the

whole time . . . "

"Ah, she's got it, alright!"

" . . .and that I needed to be thrashed until I'm black and blue .

. . bruised and striped all over, and really bloody . . . "

"Mmmm."

"She said, uh, 'some skin's got to come off' . . . So I get some

scars to remember it by . . ."

There was a pause. I could hear Sandi breathing deeply.

"Mmmm. I love that. It sounds so good. She's right, you know. You

need to be given no choice. Just tortured. Dont't you?"

"Yes, my lady."

"And did I hear you say there was another? One who didn't reply to

the ad? What's the deal there?"

"Yes, Diane's her name. A wild card, really. She's a room cleaner

at the hotel, who'd been observing them come and go."

"I like it! What's she like?"

"Hispanic, young, poor, very curvaceous. She's well educated,

though. Speaks good English, gets what it's all about."

"Even your weird habits?"

"Yes. She has a really deep knowledge of Female Domination,

because her mother is a sort of retired hooker, used to run a dominatrix

business."

"Oh, excellent . . ."

"But she wasn't merely playing with me, my lady. She had genuinely

perverse desires of her own. And . . ."

"And what?"

"Well, she had something else going for her. You know me and smells

. . . "

"Oh, do I . . ."

"Well, Diane has a real powerful scent and taste. I'm talking about

her pussy. There's something extra exciting about the sloppier hygiene of

working class women, no doubt about it. Not that any of these four could

have won a clean panties contest . . ."

"Now, now . . . don't be judgmental. They don't have to keep their

undies clean, if it's in a good cause . . . "

She asked a few more questions. She giggled as I outlined some of

what had happened, not censoring anything. After I told her about my

inability to make a decision she laughed outright, genuinely amused at my

predicament.

"Well, that's all to do with why you're a sub, isn't it? You can't

decide on anything. All these hot bitches turned you on at the time . . .

Right? And you squirted off for each one. Very energetic, that! So what do

you think you want to do?" she asked.

"I don't know," I told her miserably. "They're all great. Each is

perfect in her own way, but . . . . I can't decide."

"You'll have to, though, or you'll end up with none," she told me.

"That's the way dominant women are . . . . they know they can easily find

another slave, soon enough. They won't let you fuck around with their lives

. . ."

A long pause. "Aaaah! So, are you asking me to decide for you? Is

that it?"

"Maybe . . . I mean, yes . . ."

"Well, I could just pick one from your description . . . Or do you

want me to do some further work . . . . interview them by phone . . . . ?"

"Well, if you think it would help you decide . . ."

"It might . . . there are things I need to know. Some major

omissions. Hasn't it occurred to you? If what you say is right, not one of

them discussed her attitude to penetrating your asshole . . . so, there's

one idea I'm certainly going to put in their minds. You need that, no doubt

about it . . . and I'll tell them so. And see what they have to say about

it . . . Not to mention the old familiar topic of where and how you should

be branded, and the various parts of your body that need to be pierced.

Remember? You promised you'd let me do that, or have it done, if I really

wanted to. I chickened out, didn't I? Well, maybe I'll transfer that right

to someone nastier than me. Let's stop playing word games and get it done,

shall we? I'm sure at least one of them will be happy to burn and cut you,

huh?"

I groaned. No doubt about that. More than one, if I'd read them

rightly. What was I letting myself in for, getting Sandi involved at this

stage? She gave a little giggle, detecting my dismay.

"Yes, it could be fun, throwing out some ideas, stirring things up

a little . . . and at least I'd have the amusement of hearing what each one

of them really thinks of you. They've all seen you nude, watched you wank,

pushed you around and bullied you. I'm sure we'll have a good laugh about

you and your pathetic ways . . . . I'll have a few good stories to tell

them . . ."

"Yes, I'm sure you will," I agreed, miserably. "It's up to you . .

. if you think you need to talk to them . . . ."

Another pause.

"Yes, I think I do," she said with a little tremor in her voice.

"So, give me those phone numbers now, and their full names and addresses

while you're about it . . . ."

I carefully ran through them, spelling out the details.

"Are you really going to call them?" I asked.

"Uh huh," she replied. "Makes perfect sense doesn't it? I know the

questions to ask. And I know a lot about what you want, and I think I've

got a grip on what you need, which may be more important. And because, you

know, I might just be able to set up something even better that would, uh,

amuse me, too . . ."

"What's that?" I asked, anxiously.

"Oh,just a thought . . . what if I put my arbitration and

negotiating skills to work . . . . ?"

I swallowed. She always scared me when she got into her 'lawyer' mode.

" . . . because it's quite possible, since all of these women work

-- and you don't, really -- that I could put together a nice condo

arrangement -- You know? Co-ownership? Where they get to share you . . .

All spelled out in a nice highly detailed legal contract, of course . . ."

I gasped: "Sandi!!"

"Mistress, you horrid little worm!" she corrected, then teased:

"Oh, does that idea bother you? Hmmm? There has to be a contract, the way

you like things . . ."

"Y. . .Yes," I breathed.

She commented: "Of course there does. Just like we should have had

. . . a contract of total physical and sexual slavery . . . so there's no

possibility of disagreement about who you belong to, and why . . ."

I feebly said: "Yes, my lady . . . "

"And a condo deal, now, you can see how that'd be extra good . . .

meaning that it's 100% certain you'll get used a lot more. Ha ha, I mean

abused and bruised, don't I? And there's always the opportunity for them to

stay together for 'scenes' at the weekends. Yes. They may have appeared

straight, but you never know when you get sexually liberated women

together. All sorts of 'bi' possibilities here, aren't there? Was it

Heather who had all the 'girlfriends'? Wonder what she really meant by

that, huh? In her age group, in particular . . . Very liberated, they are .

. . Well. Only one way to find out . . . .Your place is big enough for all

of them, face it. Especially if they put you in the maid's room. Or the

kennel, ha ha! By the way, if it works, is there any reason why Diane's

mother shouldn't get invited along? She's in the country, right? I mean,

she sounds like a lot of fun . . . And after raising a daughter like Diane,

well she really deserves it! No objections . . . . . ?"

She didn't wait to hear. "Of course not! You'd go for that, I'm

sure. Sounds like there's a decent chance she may have some really cool

equipment stashed away somewhere, that could get set up in your basement,

huh? A nice spectrum. College age babe, young housewife, older ones, big

and small, experienced and not, but all more than willing to play, and all

as mean as hell by the sound of it. Yes . . . the whole spectrum. This

could be very good. Hey, if it works out right, I might even want to hop on

a plane and burn some frequent flyer miles . . . pay a visit every now and

then myself! Boy, you got lucky here. You'll certainly get more than you

deserve if I can pull this off . . . So, get off the phone, fuckwit. I've

got some business to attend to . . . I'll call you at home later, alright?

Be there at 10pm."

/continued in Pt.2/