Archive-name: Slaves/deal.txt

Archive-author: Mistress Haven & her Manservant

Archive-title: The Deal





Perhaps readers of ASB will recall Manservant posting an article

reviewing his experience with cock cages several months ago. 

It may interest those readers to know that the framework of the

following story was created by Manservant in an effort to win

release from that cock cage.  

 

At any rate, what follows is a joint story written by myself, 

Mistress Haven, and my slave Manservant.  Manservant wrote the 

first portion of the story; I wrote the conclusion.  Readers will 

have no difficultly telling when the authorship changes due to 

the difference in writing styles.



The story contains elements of D/s, B&D and S&M.  If you don't

like this sort of thing, don't read it.





                           The Deal



          A joint story by Mistress Haven & her Manservant



                 (c) 1993 Haven and Manservant





   She lifts her eyes up from the book she's reading and studies her slave

as he passes through the room to retrieve more cleaning supplies for the rug

she has ordered him to shampoo upstairs. She has commanded both his silence

and that he not look at her until otherwise commanded. As much as she liked

his begging, it had gotten tiresome and she had placed these injunctions on

him to get a little distance as he did his required housework. But his 

obedience was now melting her heart again. 'He really tries so hard.'



    "Slave?" He stopped in his tracks, faced her with his eyes averted and 

opened his mouth to speak instinctively but pulled back before uttering a 

sound and waited. "You may speak."



    "Yes Mistress. Thank you Mistress." He stands motionless. She senses him

shivering on the inside. 



    "You've had a tough day. Haven't you?"

    

    "Yes Mistress." She thinks she hears his voice cracking.



    "Do you still want to come?"



    "Yes Mistress. More than anything." She thinks she hears a subtext in his

voice something like, 'You've got to be kidding. I'm ready to explode and you

know it.' But she admires how well he hides his frustration. She did stop

asking him to beg this morning and now he's only following her orders. She

thinks, 'He really is a good slave'. But still she can't help playing with

him.



    "How much?" His eyes dart back and forth but he still hasn't disobeyed 

her.  She like how well he obeys her now.



    "How do you mean, Mistress?"



    "Well would you accept 20 strokes for an orgasm?"



    "Yes Mistress." There is no hesitation.



    "Well then how about 30". He's already caught on.



    "How about 25, Mistress?"



    "Hard ones?"

   

    "I've never know you to be light handed Mistress". 'Very good she thinks.

Nicely played. He doesn't say yes and he doesn't say no, but he flatters me

all the same'



    "Well, my dear Manservant. I've thought about it some and I will make

you a deal."



    "Yes Mistress?"



    "Yes" She holds up an index card. "On the back of this card is the number

of strokes you need to receive to be allowed release from your cage and release

from you need. I will let you decide what the number should be. You can call

of as many as you want. If it exceeds the number I will permit you to come.

If not, then too bad for you. Want to play?"



    "You are a devil, Mistress", said not entirely kiddingly. "Yes Mistress."



    "Good. Let's get you ready"



Getting him ready meant chaining his collar to two bolts held immovably waist

high in the center of the room. His ankles were spread by being locked in a

spreader bar and as he stood bent over she carefully but firmly placed a 

lasso around his balls and with the aid of a pulley and tie off made sure 

he would keep his knees straight. She also locked his hands behind him pulled

somewhat uncomfortably toward his collar by the connecting chain. When she

was done preparing him she rested her hand on her helpless slave's ass.



    "I can't believe I submit to these things, Mistress. I must be out of

my mind."



    "I just think you're horny, lover. Are you ready?"



    "Yes Mistress"



    "Well then count them off love. Oh and one little hint."



    "Yes Mistress?"



    "The number on the back of the card is more then 30."



    "Jesus", And the sound of clinking hardware as the shudder ran through her

slave's body. A long pause. Then "Mistress, I'm ready. One ..."











"Thirty-two"



   I watch you quiver from the blow.  Your ass is covered with

angry red and white stripes.  I know you won't be able to

take many more blows and I fight the temptation to lessen

the severity of my swing.



"Thirty-three"



   'I wonder if he knows how tempted I am to cheat and let him

come even if he doesn't guess correctly' I think to myself.

'He's tried so hard today.'



"Thirty-four"



   I strike again, then pause, waiting for you to count the

next stroke.  I look at the tension on the line attached

to your testicles.  You've paid dearly for every flinch.



"Thirty-five"



   I watch the blow land and see your ass jerk.  I grimace,

thinking of the line.  You groan a bit, but you're determined

to win some sexual relief for yourself tonight.  



"Thirty-six"



   You pull against the tether and I imagine I hear you

grinding your teeth.  I'm beginning to wish I hadn't

started this game.  You deserve to come tonight, I *want*

you to come tonight, but if you stop early honor will

prevent me from granting you the relief you crave.

There are times I hate being me.



"Thirty-seven"



   You jerk again and groan louder.  Again I wait to see 

if you've had enough.



"Thirty-eight"



   Another strike.  Hard and fast.  Another movement earning

you pain as your body tries to avoid the full force of

the blow.



"Thirty-nine"



   With delight I smack your ass one more time -- you've hit

the secret number and earned your reward.  Not that you

know it, of course.  You groan and pull, stopping short

as the pain in your balls prevents you from moving away.



"Forty"



   Again I'm tempted to cheat and start hitting you with 

less force.  I fight the temptation.



"Forty-one"



   The blow lands and I wait.  I'm beginning to think

you've had as much as you can stand when you manage to

choke out,



"Forty-two"



   I lash out again, and watch the welt rise on your behind.

A longer pause, then



"Forty-three"



   'Your so beautiful my love and I love the games we play'

I wait for you to count the next stroke.



"No more, Mistress."



   I smile and put down my implement.  A second or two later

I'm unhooking your collar from it's fastening points on 

the wall.  As soon as I release the tension on the line 

to your balls you'll be able to stand up straight.  I 

release the tension enough to allow you to stand, but no 

more.  You look a little confused but say nothing.  

"How's your back?" I inquire.  



   "Not as bad as my ass."  "If it pleases you Mistress," you

add as an afterthought.



   Your reply says volumes about how hard I've pushed you

tonight.  I squat down and release one side of the 

spreader bar, then the other.  While I'm on the floor 

I look at your prick.  It isn't even beginning to stir.  

'Does it think you failed?' I wonder.



   I look up at your face.  You look tired.  "You may stand

comfortably now Love."  You move your legs, flexing the

muscles and allowing them to relax.  With your balls

still tethered you aren't going anywhere though.



   Still on the floor, I reach up and gently stroke your

penis.  "You've done well and earned some relief."

I continue stroking it as it slowly hardens.  You must

really need to come if you're capable of getting hard

this soon after such a strident whipping.

 

   "You really need to come, don't you Manservant?"



   "Yes Mistress," you say huskily.



   I continue stroking your prick very gently.  You'll

never get off at this rate and you know it.  But it's

been a long time since anyone touched your member

and the contact feels great.  I can sense your

increasing need, and as I do an accompanying feeling

of deviltry overtakes me.  'You called me a devil, 

didn't you?' I think to myself.  'Or was it just 

devilish.  Either way.'  I pull back, stroking just 

under the tip.  I know that's your favorite spot, 

but nevertheless you crave more contact.



   You pull forward and your already sore balls remind

you that they're tethered.  Your need overcomes the

pain and you strain against them.  I pull back more.

'God, I really am a devil.  I just can't seem to

help myself.'



   You pull against the tether, desperate for continued

contact with your needy prick.  Despite the fact 

that it wasn't hard during your beating, it feels

like it's been erect weeks.  I stroke it a few more

times before I look up at you.



   "Sorry, Manservant.  My knees are killing me."

I stand, turn my back on you, and walk out of the

room.  



   I don't know what thoughts go through your head as I

do.  You're standing there, tired, aching, your ass 

still on fire, your prick demanding attention, your 

balls preventing you from going anywhere, your arms 

useless.  Whatever your thoughts, I'm sure they aren't

complimentary. 

 

   You hear water running in the kitchen, and I return

a few moments later carrying a glass.  You see me

take a sip and then motion with the glass.  "Drink

this."



   I hold it to your lips and watch you guzzle it down.

When the glass is empty I carry it over to an end

table and set it down.  "You can clean that up later."



   I walk back and with my right handle return to fondling

your prick.  It isn't as hard as it was when I left

the room, but it's quickly getting that way.  I lift

my head and offer you my lips.  You bow yours and we

kiss, passionately, soulfully.  I don't want that

moment to end.  As the kiss grows in intensity, my

hand stays on your prick, moving in the ways I've

learned are most pleasurable for you.  Soon you can't

help but thrust against my hand, but it isn't as bad

as before since I'm standing close and there's enough

slack for you to do so without serious consequence.

Before my wrist gives out you're groaning with pleasure

and I can feel from the tension you're on the brink.



   'I *am* a devil,' I think as I move back just a 

hair.  The tension in your nuts increases, but it's a 

pleasurable increase this time.  Two thrusts later 

you let out the sexiest moan I've ever heard you produce

and your seed gushes into the air.  When your prick

ceases its pulsating, I let go of it and put my arms 

around you.  I kiss your collar bone, and quietly 

whisper "I love you," as my hands reach behind 

you to unsnap your manacles from the chain attached 

to your collar.  When your hands are free and the 

chain hangs limply down your back, you put your arms 

around me and enfold me with your love.  We kiss, 

again and again, as my hands go to your groin to 

unfasten the tether.  When you're free from your 

bonds, and I've drunk my fill of kisses, I smile 

up at you, "Leave the mess until morning, you're 

coming to bed with me."

--