MF-Mf+

(story continues from Tales From The Psych Ward 7: Again a Witness) Part 8: The Final Chapter The headlines about the arrest of Dr. Susan Barrington as the Roadside Rapist soon faded. It wasn’t that it didn’t make interesting news, but there were too many very important people involved who didn’t want it known that she had been targeting the Masters and Mistresses of The Club - or that they were members there. Besides that, it was immediately apparent to almost everyone that Dr. Barrington had fallen off the deep end and was nuttier than Mr. Peanut. ...

John was sweating and yet the air conditioning was keeping the room cool seventy degrees. So it was not the temperature causing him discomfort. If you call it discomfort. His wife Mary was the cause of his discomfort. It was the strain of something not happening and wish it where to be. Mary. All slim and trim curvaceous figure standing at a good five-ten. Blond hair and blue eyed. With smile that could light up a room. He watched. Yet nothing happened. ...

John was sweating and yet the air conditioning was keeping the room cool seventy degrees. So it was not the temperature causing him discomfort. If you call it discomfort. His wife Mary was the cause of his discomfort. It was the strain of something not happening and wish it where to be. Mary. All slim and trim curvaceous figure standing at a good five-ten. Blond hair and blue eyed. With smile that could light up a room. He watched. Yet nothing happened. ...

We met through mutual friends at one of the local clubs and ended up copulating hours later in a rubber sheathed, cum-lubricated, writhing mass. I figured he was just another fetishist like me, wired so that his individuality had to be stripped away through the application of expensive latex garments and role playing. I soon discovered there was more to it than that for Xan. I’m stronger than most women I know. Most men too. I’ve never understood why people always choose me to glom onto–maybe because I don’t say much. Maybe because I listen and understand what people say to me. You never realize how rare an ability that is in the world until you’re looking for it yourself. But Xan sure was looking for it, and the things he wanted someone to understand weren’t the type of things you brought up even within the confines of a fetish club. So, after nine months of courtship, he took me into his dungeon to tell me. ...

Caution: Part One of this story involves urophagia the consumption of urine Prolog My name is Tom but most of the people who come in contact with me call me Master. I run a unique facility here out in the country. I and my staff of sadists capture and train slaves for sale around the world. Some of the slaves we train are volunteers, they get in touch with me through several websites with chat rooms and if the conditions are right and I feel it’s safe we make the deal and they become slaves for life. ...

Part Four The auction went a little bit better than usual. A well-known local software programmer bought the twins for $15,500, and his mistress (small m) bought me for $12,000. Nobody ever outbids them when they choose to show up, which we can never anticipate. They left the three of us on the stage, and retired to the bar to watch the rest of the auction. A nervous young man who had been the underbidder on the Olson Twins, and whom I suspected had been sent to the island as a graduation present by his father, an occasional visitor, made a jump bid to $15,000 for Slave Unit C, and got his wish. He handed a briefcase to the cashier without counting it out or receiving change, and left with his purchase in eager anticipation. Someday he may learn the folly of revealing the limit of his bankroll before Round Two, but for today was the buyer and not the buyee. I could see two of the ladies sizing him up for future consumption. ...