Stories - a slaves Rendition
(submitted by: Mistress Amber Stone [website])
Mistress Amber watched from the window of the beach house as the van pulled up. Four men unloaded the equipment and headed down toward the beach, each one excited with anticipation. These were to be her playmates on this glorious day.
Mistress Amber watched from the window of the beach house as the van pulled up. Four men unloaded the equipment and headed down toward the beach, each one excited with anticipation. These were to be her playmates on this glorious day. She checked the tide clock. Right on time, as ordered. She waited almost an hour, then looked out again and saw the youngest man standing on the dune, again as ordered, facing the Sun motionless.
Dressed in a bikini bottom and a light sun robe, Mistress Amber started out toward the beach to see if all was prepared to her liking. She passed the young man on the dune, who dared not peek at her lovely breasts hanging out through the front of her robe. On her private beach, the oriental rug was placed neatly under the canopy. No sand was on it, as ordered, and the shade only covered her rug. The pillows were fluffed. The cooler was set out. The two doorbells placed next to her pillow, wires running into the ground; all as ordered again.
To the right and left of where she would sit, two faces came just inches out of the sand facing the blazing Sun, mouths open at all times, as ordered. Near the water's edge, where the low tide had started it's hypnotic rhythm, Mistress needed to check the last head. Her little pig boy was also buried, with his head sticking up from the neck. Unlike the other two, he would need to be able to move around. All three males were cuffed and bound under the sand, then wrapped with masking tape. Escape was impossible. The Mistress approved of the set-up. This day would be a pleasant one, if the wimps did not break down. She poured a margarita from the pitcher into an extra salty rimmed glass and walked down to where the third head was protruding from the shore line.
"Are you thirsty piglet?" She said this smiling, and did not expect a negative answer.
She gave him some sips, and the flakes of salt left a radom resudue on his lips. Then she went back to the rug, serving the mixture to the other two wimps. They would be thirsty soon. Facing the sun, she could watch them suffer as she read her novel. She mixed a second margarita for herself, savoring it slowly as she read. After a few minutes she lit a large cigar. She didn't necessarily like them, but the ashes would cake on her entertainment's tongues after the margarita began to do its job. She sighed and smiled, her beautiful breasts catching the sea breeze and erecting her soft pink nipples. This would be a wonderful day.
Within an hour, the faces at either side were red with sunburn. The mouths, still open at all times, were cracked and caked with the cigar ash. She took the stub of the cigar, and ran it down between the blonde's eyes on the face to her right. Burning the flesh just a bit on the nose, she brought it down to the sand, about where his navel might be. A pause, then she stuck it into the sand. Yes, she could see the pain in his eyes, and the struggle too as he tried not to show it. The sand would soon snuff it out before too much damage was done.
The Mistress mixed another margarita, and sipped as she read. She put the book down to rest her eyes. Time to test the doorbells. The wires ran into the sand from each bell button. Under the sand, each side had a large dry cell battery that was connected to wires ending in long, metal rods. Each rod had been lubricated, so as to conduct the current better. One was taped into each man's anal opening. The other was shoved, like a catheter, into his pee hole. By the time she thought about the buttons, the rods incerted in the piss holes were already causing excruciating discomfort. She looked at the redhead to her left, into his burned face, and dry, cracked ashtray mouth. She pushed the button down for 10 seconds. He groaned, then quickly coughed as the ashes swirled in his mouth. She smiled, delighted with her toys. The blonde was next, he almost screamed out and would have if the margarita had not left him so dry. Back and forth she alternated the shocks, watching the eyes of each as she giggled. Finally she became bored, and dropped a long string of spit into each man's mouth as a reward. They dared not swallow it in her presence.
She checked her watch. She was a little late and timing was important. Mistress Amber arose and sauntered down toward her piglet. When she reached him, she took out a blindfold and covered his eyes, not out of mercy but to deny him the view of her beauty. She slipped off her bikini bottom, and crouched near the pig's gaping mouth. Out came a stream of urine from the Margaritas she had drank. The Mistress pissed all over his face but mostly into his mouth, savoring the beautiful seascape as she used her portable toilet. He swallowed as best he could, almost gasping at times. As she squatted there, she watched the waves as high tide approached. She raised herself up, as one strong wave crashed on the sand several yards in front of her toilet, and it's remains tickled piglet's neck before retreating. The Mistress smiled, as piglet choked on the last of her nectar. She started back to the house. The man on the dune was ordered not to move until she closed her door. Then he would race to free piglet from a tidal drowning. She stopped, however, forgetting the time. She stared into the man's face, then viciously scratched down his hideously burned chest. He winced, but nothing more.
"Very good. No reaction." She said.
Then the Mistress reached down between his legs, and caressed his cock while allowing her nipples to lightly touch his scratched chest. His cock sprung to life quickly. A reaction! Disobedience. She raised a knee quickly into his groin and left him in a groaning pile. She hoped he could recover in time to race to the beach and save her little piglet from drowning. He was such a good toilet for her. But, he could not check piglet until she went into the house. She thought she heard a panicked scream from the beach. She stopped, and smell the flowers in her window box, glanced up at the brilliant sky, twirled around with her arms outstretched in love with nature. She did not hear another cry. She went inside, closing the door very, very slowly. The man got up and raced, stumbling in pain, to the beach.
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