This morning, despite the unseasonable heavy downpour, Fifth Avenue milled with a larger
than average number of miserable faces. New Yorkers rushed, even more than usual. Collars
turned up. Heads turned down. Furrowed eyes remained steadfastly focussed, seeing nothing.
Tingling hands held coats, barely able to withstand the inexorable abuse, tightly around
necks. Everywhere people cowered, their screwed up faces despaired at this unexpected
torturous ordeal. Unable to hide their obvious distain, they battled against a wind that
seemed to propel small, icy, needle-like projectiles. The mood on the street was heavier
than the merciless rainfall. In the world of dog-eat-dog, competition for a rare available
taxi made sure in true Darwinian style, only the fittest would survive. Today, as always
on days like this in the city of concreted profligacy, common courtesy surrendered to the
immiscible power of the greenback God.
	Armed with a steaming, freshly brewed vanilla flavoured Latte; Cassandra breathed-in its
richly refreshing aroma. Nothing could alter her state of mind. Surrendered to the moment,
today was special. Always obedient, she waited patiently at the corner of Twenty-Seventh
and Fifth. The demanding red sign had barked its clear order. ‘Don’t Walk!’ Although many
did, Cassandra didn’t. In part, it was her unconditional willingness to obey, even
outrageous commands, which landed her a new job. Unlike the unforgiving throng, her smile
was immovable. Today, Cassandra starts a new career as ‘The’ Mr Vincent Drago’s personal
assistant. If the interview was anything to go by, this will be the most interesting and
satisfying job imaginable. Free, unrestricted access to ‘Peepers’ was an invaluable perk.
Most people could only dream of becoming an exclusive member of Drago’s Dungeon. 
	The club, which only accepts American Express Platinum, is a rather discreet Nineteenth
century warehouse, converted to cater for the highest tastes, and situated just off
Twenty-Seventh. This is where the city’s financial elite converge night after night to
relieve their shattered nerves with unbridled sexual depravity. Some took note that the
rate of suicide amongst the city’s stockbrokers had declined appreciatively since Peepers
opened a mere five years ago.
	Adhering strictly to her new masters’ dictate, Cassandra wore nothing except a dark,
almost blackened raincoat. Buttoned-up tightly from mid-thigh to her neck, it did little
to protect her from the elements. Knee length black high-heeled boots made her look much
taller than her natural slim five foot ten. Lashing rain washed over her hairless scalp,
another decree from the master ensured she lost her long, shiny black hair. It was a new
look for her. She liked it. It made her stand out. It made her different and made others
stop to take a lingered look of wanton, almost craving desire.
	 Warmed by her flushed, excited skin, the water seeped inside the collar and swarmed
over her shoulders, dripping endlessly down her naked body in a tummy tingling orgy of
erotic sensations that felt like a hundred wet insatiable tongues licking her flesh both
front and back. The steady trickle that formed on the inside of her thighs felt much
warmer, definitely more sticky. 
	Ignited by early morning temperatures that struggled to break seven degrees, Cassandra’s
nipples pinched tight, protruding and pulsing as they rubbed directly against the course,
soaking wet material of her coat. The delicate, one-inch diameter silver rings that
pierced each nipple, failed to hold any warmth. Ambient coldness made sure each abused
nipple throbbed with delicious pain. Pleased with her choice, it took Cassandra most of
last Thursday to find a matching set. With legs firmly together, Cassandra shook slightly
as she secretly rubbed one fleshy thigh against the other. She was sure she would get used
to the three quarter-inch diameter silver rings that sank deeply into her labia. If she
had known about the exquisite highlighting effect these simple pieces of jewellery would
have, she would have had her nipples and pussy pierced long ago. Thanks to Mr Drago and
his unending search for complete customer satisfaction, Cassandra now found it hard to
imagine a life without her piercings.

..........
	
When Vincent Drago gave Cassandra a tour of Peepers during her interview, she remembered
particularly the Pendulum Room. At the time, the room made her feel weak. Much larger than
most other rooms, it looked as if it would house a hundred people comfortably. Quite
Spartan, it was painted in black throughout. Red lights gave it an underworld feel.
Purple, dark blue and mauve cushions lay, strewn about on an endless bed of red silk
around the floor, pushed tight to the four walls. This place had slowness about it. An
unhurried pace ensured its users settled in a timeless world of gorged upon pain, blended
with a sea of naked flesh that writhed in an orgy of perpetual orgasm. When Cassandra
first saw this room, she determined that this would be her first nights relaxation at
Peepers. One thing disturbed her. In the middle of the room, dominantly displayed was what
looked to Cassandra like a hang mans gallows? Then, she didn’t know what it was for. Now,
at the hands of the Mistress, she was about to find out.
	Removing her lead, the Mistress barked an order, refusal not an option. Cassandra,
despite pain sheering through every joint sprang into action. Even though she didn’t
understand, the need to obey surpassed any requirement for knowledge. Lying squarely on
what appeared to be a cross between an ancient door and an old wooden bed, Cassandra
looked upward, gulping hard. Two nooses hung disturbingly from the gallows arm. Unable to
move her head to see what the Mistress was doing, it was enough to feel the coldness of
leather straps wrap around each ankle and pulled so tightly, her toes pricked straight
away with pins and needles. Cassandra clenched her hands in uncertainty. The whirl of an
electric motor jerked both nooses into life. Mesmerised, Cassandra watched the rope
between noose and arm get longer and longer, until the thick rope settled and coiled like
a long, lazy snake around her breasts. For a horrifying moment, Cassandra thought the
nooses would be tied, one each to her breasts and then hoisted by nothing than her tits,
left, suspended in mid-air.
	To her relief, she felt the Mistress wrestle with the thick rope. Movement once again
around her ankles suggested that both strap and noose were now joined as one. The motor
whirled. Cassandra watched petrified as the ropes slack disappeared inside the gallows
arm. Ankles, independent of each other, but both at the same time rose up. The pull on her
legs wasn’t jerky, but even, relentless, unstoppable. With legs at Ninety-degrees to her
body, she realised that her hips were not aligned centrally to the ropes. The rod-like,
inflexible dildo pressed hard against soft tissue. Relentlessly, it vibrated, keeping
Cassandra on the verge of orgasm, but never quite enough to release the pressure she felt
inside.
	Suddenly, her reddened backside rose up, her tummy, her chest. The choker bit deeply
into her breastbone and throat, strangling her, preventing any and all movement of air
between mouth and lungs. Shoulders remained stubbornly on the uncaring table as
Cassandra’s body twisted, doubled over, almost in half. Out of nowhere, what was left of
her shot down the table and was instantly catapulted into the air. Each second, the winch
pulled her higher, until with a jolt the motor stopped, leaving Cassandra swinging back
and fore like a pendulum. Created by the weight of her body and the sudden backward
propulsion, inertia was maintained, keeping her swaying upside down on the end of two
ropes. 
	No longer able to look up or down, Cassandra gasped at the sudden headlong rush of blood
to her brain. She felt dizzy, disoriented. She was convinced that they had drugged her
again. When she heard the sound of the motor pull her legs wide apart and felt the full
impact of a merciless cane crash down hard onto her open, unguarded pussy, she was glad
they hadn’t. 

..........

The boardroom was at the far end of the corridor. Cassandra shuffled behind the Master
like a lost puppy and watched in awe as he shook hands, one after the other with a long
procession of New York’s money people. Wealth oozed from them. Each suit, she estimated
cost as much as a years’ rent on her apartment. She was a little surprised to see there
were no women, only men. She wasn’t surprised, when each of them broke their smile and
took a moment to look at Cassandra. She learned what that sparkle in a man’s eyes meant
long ago. Within seconds, each asked themselves a simple question about Cassandra and each
made the same instant decision. They would! 
	Instantly following the sparkle, a suggestive smile communicated unspoken resolve.
	‘I will fuck you later!’
	Cassandra wondered how many of them already had. Two weeks ago, when the Master drugged
her and suspended her body from the ceiling, she still has no recollection of how many
took part in the gang-bang that followed. Faces became a complete blur that night, when
she found herself fucked repeatedly in every orifice at the same time.
	The boardroom was generous with space and decor. Erotic paintings adorned every wall. It
spared no expense, boasting the largest oak table Cassandra had ever seen. It wasn’t round
or oblong. It was pear shaped, with the Master sat at the narrowest point and the Mistress
to his right. Vincent suggested to Cassandra that she sit to his left. Cassandra’s heart
raced. She felt so out of depth.
	As the conversation started, it was clear that this was an initial meeting to introduce
a few potential backers. Cassandra scribbled furiously, until the Master gently placed a
hand on hers.
	“Not needed!” He whispered.
	As Vincent Drago outlined his plans to franchise ‘The Peepers Concept’ across the
Atlantic sea board, Cassandra noticed one of the guests remained unseated, just staring
seemingly out of one of the windows. Every few seconds he took a long look at Cassandra,
before staring back into space. He made her feel uneasy. She knew that look. He wanted
her.
	“Is she ready?” The man interrupted, just as Vincent was getting into full flow about
something called ROCI.
	Vincent drew a deep breath and leaning back into his chair tossed his pen, which had
previously scribbled all sorts of eight digit numbers, onto his notepad. Clearly irritated
by the question, Vincent managed to maintain his composure. Cassandra guessed that in a
room full of important people, whoever this man was, they considered him V.I.P.
	“Jack Smijer!” Vincent broke into a smile. “How good of you to finally join us. Please,
why don’t you sit down?”
	Cassandra wrote in shorthand, Jack Smijer. Despite his chiselled chin and sixties movie
star looks, she instantly decided she didn’t like him. Later, she would find out that this
man, with piercing blue eyes, was fast tracked through the company’s talent pool. The
brightest rising star, he became Chairman of a leading Wall Street Commercial Bank at just
thirty-five. Very wealthy and very influential, he was a man to both admire and distrust.
Most people simply feared him.
	“Well! Is she?”
	“Look Jack, I understand you have been waiting for some time now, but honestly she will
be worth the wait.”
	Cassandra noticed the Master look at her quickly before continuing.
	“She is a natural. This one will cost top dollar and you, like everyone else, will have
to bid. You know the process. There are no short cuts.”
	Churning upside down, Cassandra thought she might be sick. She was sure they were
talking about her, but didn’t have a clue what they meant.
	“I want a preview!” It was clear that Jack Smijer wasn’t accustomed to waiting.
	The room went deadly quiet. Everyone knew that Vincent Drago kept his dealing’s strictly
in line with defined processes. Anyone who didn’t like it was welcome to do their business
elsewhere. Jack Smijer however, believed himself to be above rules. 
	Like frontier, gun-toting cowboys, the two men, with pierced steely-eyes, faced each
other with fierce determination. Neither wanted to back down, but both knew that a wrong
move would cost them dearly. Vincent wanted Jack Smijer’s credit lines. Jack Smijer knew
that Vincent Drago kept a lot of shit about a lot of people and Jack, just like every
other big shot in town was up to his neck with video evidence of his depraved sexual
appetites. Including more than one occasion when he nearly throttled a Peepers member of
staff to the point of suffocation.
	All eyes fell on Vincent Drago. It appeared that he had backed down.
	“Very well!”
	Smugly, Jack Smijer sat at his place around the table.
	Cassandra nearly passed out at the sound of her name.
	“Cassandra, I want you to go under the table and choosing any gentleman in this room,
pull down his zip, take out his cock and using only your mouth, make him cum!”
	Gulping hard, Cassandra recalled the Dragon Lady’s words.
	‘You will learn to accept what is given to you without comment!’
	Pushing back her chair, Cassandra stood and looked at each of the men straight in the
eye. There were nine plus the Master. Some were old and fat. Too many years of the easy
life had made them saggy, but two looked quite young and energetic. All pleaded with her
through their eyes. Cassandra knew exactly who her target would be.
	Getting down on all fours, she shuffled forward a little until she was fully under the
table. Turning to her right, she pushed the Masters legs open and pulled at his zip. After
undoing his belt, she gently yanked at his pants until they were around his knees and
smiled when she heard him groan as her warm, moistened mouth wrapped eagerly around his
rapidly stiffening prick.
	The younger men couldn’t help but look under the table. Having not yet aspired to
membership, they had only heard rumours of what went on here. The older ones got it.
Vincent Drago knew that his new protégée would choose him, thereby snubbing
Jack Smijer and his unprompted demand for a preview. At the same time, he would prove his
comments correct. She was a natural born submissive, one who would obey the Masters
commands without hesitating.
	Jack Smijer fumed in his chair. He knew he had lost and lost big time. The assembled
bigwigs smiled, some even chuckled at the contrast between the two combatants. Jack looked
as if he was trying to suck a lemon dry, on the other hand Vincent Drago looked as if he
were being lunged into never-never land as his eyes rolled and he grunted under the
onslaught of Cassandra’s amazing moistened lips gently rubbing over the rim of his
bell-end. Cassandra’s blowjobs were even better than her shorthand.
	Having proved his point, Vincent decided he should throw his potential backer a
lifeline. Jack looked decidedly embarrassed, even his stature had shrivelled, making him
look like a scolded teenager.
	“Thank you Cassandra, you can stop now.”
	Suddenly stopping in disbelief, Cassandra held the Masters’ dick in her hand and looked
at it with a deep sense of yearning. She couldn’t believe that he wasn’t going to let her
make him cum. With a long sigh, she wrapped her lips around him once more and rolled her
tongue around his hot, blood-gorged end. Vincent unexpectantly moaned aloud. His face
contorted. His hands clenched tightly. Those that watched, secretly wished he would order
her to go around the room, and one by one make her do to them what she was doing to him
right now? Cassandra secretly wished that the Master would let her finish what she had
started.
	Emerging from beneath the table, Cassandra sat in her chair. She knew they were all
looking at her. She couldn’t help it. Like a cat, satisfied after drinking cream, she
slowly ran her tongue all around the edges of her glossy and slightly smudged lips. She
then serenely sat with hands resting on her lap and head bowed slightly toward the floor.
	Stunned silence consumed the room. Then all the guests seemed to speak at the same time,
all that is except Jack Smijer. Their interest levels had shot through the roof. They
excitedly asked about the expansion program, projections, cash flow forecasts; debt to
equity ratio’s and how often could Peepers produce gemstones like Cassandra. They wanted
to know what the operating profit predictions were, when taking into account training
costs. They asked what the turnaround period was and how quickly could they take a raw
recruit and put her in the market place as a fully merchantable commodity.
	Completely lost by the technical jargon, Cassandra, just like before, felt consumed,
overawed by the thought that they were not only talking about her, but referring to her as
a unit of production.
	“Basic direct costs, such as initial salary, training facilities, time on job etc are
covered by Peepers. Indirect overheads such as medical expenses and we must remember that
each unit will have different training requirements to reach the strict and highest
standards of subservience, will vary from project to project. Some customers may require
attributes and personality traits that vary from one training program to another. However,
we are looking at an estimated net profit per unit of somewhere between two hundred and
fifty thousand and one million dollars.”
	Vincent tried hard not to smile. He had them in the palm of his hand. He knew it! All he
needed to do now was satisfy the twitches they all had itching away at their
semi-erections. Cassandra’s polished performance had them juiced up. Profit, the promise
of a lot of profit, had them almost cumming in their pants. Now all he had to do is
actually make them cum. After lunch, the ‘Dipping Tank’ will be ready for testing, but
first, he had to get Jack back on his side.
	“Cassandra, I want you to stand in front of the table in front of Jack Smijer, bend over
and place your hands firmly on the desk. You will not move until Jack has finished fucking
you.”
	Although she disliked him immensely, Cassandra’s face didn’t even twitch.
	“Yes Master!”



	Taking a deep breath, Cassandra walked around the large, pear shaped boardroom table,
toward a somewhat stunned Jack Smijer. In complete silence, jaws dropped and every eye
watched every footstep. Each step caused her already filled to capacity pencil skirt to
bulge, first her left buttock, then her right. Becoming impatient, they all felt she took
too long, especially when she removed her matching jacket and with cool confidence, swung
it over a shoulder. Generous, unsupported breasts wobbled just slightly, but so
seductively. A slinky, silky, almost see through blouse teased, highlighting two excited
erect nipples, the rings clearly visible. She knew they were watching, stunned into
silence by both her appearance and brazen willingness to obey her Master without
hesitation or question. She was determined to milk every succulent second. Jack Smijer
looked in awe, a little anxious. Vincent Drago had called his bluff. There was no way he
could back down, not now.
	Bending over, as ordered, Cassandra extended out her arms and placed both hands and
elbows on the table. That full, rounded ass lifted high into the air. She turned her head,
staring at the Master. She got it now. He was using her to get the businessmen around the
table excited, eager to agree to his plans. Cassandra’s polished performance would help
and if appearing calm, confident and willing to do absolutely anything the Master
commanded made this possible, then she would do it. Besides, she knew that just like when
he commanded her to suck any dick under the table and then stopped her, he would do the
same now. He would stop it before it went too far. She was confident that her new Master
and Mistress would not allow this complete stranger to fuck her in front of all these
people. Nothing would be more degrading.
	Even when Cassandra’s muscles clenched tight at the feel of Jack Smijer raising her
pencil skirt, first up passed her thighs and then leave it wrapped around her waist,
displaying her completely naked backside, she still believed that any second now the
Master would stop him. After all, she belonged to the Master. It was the Master that she
obeyed, shaking at the knees and feebly hanging on to his every word. It was he, the
Master, for which she would do anything. She so desperately wanted to feel him inside her,
moving his thick erection inside her excited pussy. Vincent Drago now replaced her old
headmaster in her fantasies and just like her old headmaster, she still awaits Vincent
Drago to fuck her. Cassandra’s eyes drilled into Vincent’s face, waiting for him to stop
Jack Smijer’s hands that now touched, stroking her naked, elevated bum.
	Taking a step back, Jack took a long lingering look of admiration. Cassandra’s perfectly
rounded ass, accentuated by a shaven clam shaped pussy that showed a loose, shiny flap of
labia on one side, caused an irreversible surge of blood to his penis. In his mind, he
could already taste that loose piece of skin between his teeth, biting down on it hard
before sucking it into his mouth. Jack looked long and hard at the battered and blue skin
before him. He was impressed.
	“I see you take your training seriously!” His smirk was for the benefit of the watching
crowd. The question however, he directed at the Mistress.
	Still fully expecting the Master to stop Jack Smijer, Cassandra jumped a little. Several
fingers suddenly appeared, rubbing in long, slow strokes along the entire length of her
pussy. They probed and pushed, pinching slippery flesh between finger and thumb. Eyes
closed, partly in shock, partly in embarrassment, but mostly in relief.
	Three fingers penetrated sharply, forcefully. It was hard to tell who grunted the
loudest, Cassandra at the sudden aggressive infiltration or Jack Smijer from his
belligerent, almost hostile thrust. Either way, nearly two hours of vibrating dildo in
Cassandra’s pussy this morning made sure her folds of slippery skin remained placid,
flexible, willing to engulf and envelope anything that might satisfy her need to orgasm.
Instantly, lubricated, willing flesh wrapped, almost grabbing around his fingers, quickly
ensnarling like a black widow spider inexorably pouncing on its next victim.
	“Mr Smijer.” The Mistress’s less than impressed tone broke everyone’s mesmerised stare.
	“We take our craft very seriously. The purpose of this meeting is to show you just how
serious we are and that you will see generous returns on your investment. May I suggest
that when you have finished...” The Mistress hesitated, looking for the right words.
“Sampling the merchandise, we might adjourn to the Medieval Room, where all of you
gentlemen can share in the Peepers experience. I believe the workmen may have finished
installing our latest attraction. I’m sure you will find it interesting”
	Cassandra’s eyes shot wide open. Was she the merchandise? Looking at the Master for
answers, his cold steely eyes told her that he was not only going to allow Jack Smijer to
fuck her here and now over the boardroom table, but was going to invite all the others to
do the same in the Medieval Room. This room, filled with the most horrendous contraptions
would stretch her body to the point of breaking and all the while give them unrestricted
access to any part of her they wanted to fuck. 
	Jack Smijer’s fingers moved slowly out from Cassandra’s pussy before thrusting back
inside. The exertion caused her to open her hands, desperately looking and failing to find
something to hold tightly. Mid gasp, she opened her eyes and met the Masters uncaring
coldness. Mentally she pleaded with him. A sorrowful single tear dribbled pathetically
down her cheek, begging him to make it stop. The more he ignored her silent plea, the more
Cassandra fell for him. How could he make her feel this way? What binding hold did he have
over her that made her obey his every word, even to the point of allowing a complete
stranger to do this to her in front of enthusiastic people who clearly willed him to go
further. Every grunt she made caused some to titter, their nervous laughter hiding their
own uncertainty and embarrassment, but all wanted Jack Smijer to do more. They wanted to
see Cassandra’s face as she orgasmed.
	Fear, guilt, shame and bewildered excitement surged through her body. If this was, what
it took to please him, to be sufficiently impressed to keep her, then so be it.
Cassandra’s forehead touched the coldness of the hard-woodened table. She winced. His
fingers had become more urgent, more violent and joined by a forth that pushed her pussy
so wide open she was in pain. She didn’t want to cum, not at the hands of this man. Her
hairless head suddenly shot upward. All could see the spread of unstoppable emotions
across her face. She fought it, tried so desperately not to allow it to happen. It was no
use, her body was no longer her own. It ignored every order she gave. Contorting, her body
shook, jerking awkwardly. Her bum rose higher into the air. Jacks fingers rammed in short
stubby thrusts. Cassandra’s unsupported tits wobbled ferociously inside her thin blouse.
Acutely erect nibbles rubbed on the material, sending waves of intense tingles into her
stomach. Every muscle tensed. She screamed.
	“Fuck you!” 
	Suddenly the fingers stopped. Cassandra’s pussy burned. Sharp irresistible, almost
painful stabs of tingling throbs consumed every thought. Suspended right at the edge, she
looked again at the Masters face. How could he sit there so impassively, so distant and
detached, watching every move, while she endured the ignominy and undignified way in which
this man humiliated her. The others looked so excited, enthralled by this open display of
debauchery. The Master remained unmoved, devoid of expression or feeling.
	Bulbous, hot flesh rubbed teasingly against slippery, willing labia. With one hand, Jack
Smijer moved his erection up and down Cassandra’s pussy lips until his eager bell-end
pushed inside a little. She braced herself for the inevitable. Her tear-filled eyes once
more pleaded with the Master. What she feared the most wasn’t having him fuck her in this
way, in front of these people, but rather that she wanted it and once done, would always
hunger for more.
	Fat, stubby fingers grappled, they fumbled until they found their way behind her dog
collar. Violently, he yanked at the leather strap. Instantly, Cassandra’s head jerked
backward. Almost in a snarl, Cassandra pushed back, forcing herself against his embedded
erection. The relentless friction of his oversized bell-end slid, scraping, touching every
elevated nerve ending inside her pussy, sending Cassandra into a cascading explosion of
spasm and into a world from which she would never escape. 
	Cassandra’s hips jerked awkwardly up and down and from side to side as she rode
mind-numbing bursts of tingles and throbs that shot through her pussy, into her stomach
and to her mind that darkened, for the moment blocking out her surroundings. This orgasm
was different. This orgasm was so much stronger. This orgasm was the one the old
headmaster should have given her, the one she hoped and prayed that Vincent Drago, her new
Master would give her, but neither did.
	As her mind began to clear, becoming once again familiar with the present, she found
Jack Smijer riding her pussy in long, slow easy strokes. Cassandra’s face went bright red.
Most thought it was from the leather strap pulled tight to her neck, restricting her
breath, choking her as he fucked her from behind. It wasn’t. What caused her sudden flush
was the look on the Mistress’s face, it plunged Cassandra into deep embarrassment. Her
secret was out. It was as if she knew, as if she understood what had just happened. A
mixture of Motherly pride and a hint of jealousy suggested the Mistress was acknowledging
that Cassandra was experiencing something she had prayed so long for. The Mistress knew
her secret. Was this something that the Mistress harboured also? Cassandra suddenly felt
affinity with the Mistress. The same kindred spirit, only a generation apart. Cassandra
could learn so much from her. Thanks to the Mistress and the Master, Cassandra was now
able to feel what she had longed for, degradation, humiliation and disgrace. Only by
submitting completely to their will was she able to transcend, to become the thing she
feared. Cassandra had known them both for only a short time, but for what they had done to
her, she was grateful. It was more than gratitude, she loved them both, they had freed her
and she would obey every word they uttered.
	Cassandra no longer felt afraid.
	Large hands appeared over both shoulders, grabbing at the flimsy blouse. They yanked,
ripping off three buttons. Another tore a hole down one side. Jack Smijer seemed
possessed, determined to rip Cassandra’s clothes from her body. He snorted as he pulled
again, this time her shredded blouse slipped away behind her. Arms strained at the
ferocity, almost dislocating her shoulders, as he held her wrists tightly together behind
her back and used the material to bind them together.
	Cassandra’s sudden full frontal display of nakedness in view of the spellbound, animated
audience made her gasp. Her skin tingled as their eyes bored into her fleshy breasts. She
thought her nipples would explode, they felt so hard and taught. He pinned her head tight
to the tabletop and thrusting hard, quickened his pace, fucking her pussy with sheer
contempt. He fucked her so hard and fast, Cassandra struggled to breathe. She gasped and
grunted. His prick was so large; it seemed to make her tingle from head to toe.
Cassandra’s ears pricked. Suddenly open to his every word. The Master had spoken and
without question, she would obey.
	“You will not orgasm again unless I say you can!”
	Just the sound of the Masters voice sent her into raptures. Waves of exquisite tingles
pricked at her skin. She bit her lip. It didn’t matter what Jack Smijer would do to her
now, she was not going to cum.
	In agitated response, Jack fucked Cassandra harder. Faster, he kept ramming his prick
into her pussy, determined to win a point over Vincent Drago.
	Cassandra’s body wanted to orgasm again, she could feel it. It was so strong inside her
that at any other time she would have allowed herself to submit to it, but the need inside
to submit to the Master was so much stronger. It became a battle of wills. Jack determined
to make Cassandra cum and Cassandra determined that he wouldn’t. 
	Jack’s grunts became louder, stronger. Sweat poured from his face. Cassandra ground her
teeth together. She had never been fucked this hard for so long. Her mind drifted to the
Medieval Room and to the faces around the table. After lunch, she knew that the Master
would order her to let the others fuck her too. It would become a long afternoon of a
never-ending gangbang. 
	 The mere thought of them all fucking her made Cassandra’s pussy muscles tighten around
Jack Smijer’s thrusting erection. The sudden increase in friction was unexpected. It threw
him completely. He shouted.
	“Bastard!”
	She felt his prick explode inside her. His gushes of sperm felt wicked, warm and so
soothing. As ordered, she did not cum. Cassandra smiled. 
	The Master will be pleased.