Synopsis: At the inn in Her Realm, MzDominica demonstrated Her glass-covered sensory deprivation chamber, showing how a recording with Her Voice as a subliminal soundtrack could be used to program slaves' minds, so very deeply, to obey Her. Mistress Black, who owns a chain of spas, made a deal with Dominica, to use the "relaxation chambers" to expand her business, getting chambers at a discount, in exchange for using them to recruit more slaves for Dominica.

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Part 2: Six Months Later

Mistress Black always enjoyed relaxing in a warm, quiet bath like this, after her workouts in the gym. Her long, raven tresses were pinned up, tight around her head, and she wriggled around in the scented water, surrounded by candle light, as she trailed her hands up and down her smooth, muscular thighs and stomach. Massaging them. Squeezing her own nipples. Teasing herself. Planning what she was going to do with her slaves this evening. Especially the new one, the female. Oh yes, she was going to be fun to train.

Deciding her bath was done, Mistress stood carefully, and stepped out, onto the bathmat. Immediately, her male slave arose from his crouched position, with a fresh towel, and began drying her. His eyes remained downcast, as trained, staring only at the floor -- not permitted to look at Mistress, as he dried her. A perfectly choreographed dance. She lifted her left arm, and his hand was already moving toward her with the towel, to dry her arm, her armpit, down the left side. Blotting every drop of scented water from her skin. She lowered her left arm, and lifted the right one, and her slave was already blotting her forearm, her firm triceps, and down the right side. Suddenly, the towel slipped, and for a moment, his fingers touched Mistress' skin, on the flare of her hip, just below her tiny waist. She did not react, but the slave quickly recovered the towel, and continued drying. Wiping down her hips, her buttocks, the backs of her thighs, crouching again to the floor as he gently rubbed her firm calves, her slim ankles. Then she turned, and he stood again, blotting water off her face, her neck, both her breasts, down her smooth tummy. Her smooth mound -- permanently depilated, like the rest of her. Soft, satiny, almost shiny in the moist air. The slave crouched on the floor, drying between her toes, even as she stood. Then, finished, he folded the towel, held it close against his chest, and knelt, awaiting further orders.

"Stand, vomit," Mistress Black said. She rarely used his slave name, except when she was about to punish him. Of course, he knew why. "Extend your hands, fingers out." He set the towel near the bathtub, and held his hands up, elbows low and bent, wrists at a right angle, fingers outstretched. Mistress reached to the wall and retrieved the riding crop. Every room had a riding crop, hanging on the wall. Always ready. Ready for Mistress to administer discipline, punishment, whenever she chose.

Thwack! "Never," Thwack! "ever," Thwack! "EVER!" Thwack! "touch me with your hands, without permission, slave!"

vomit felt his fingertips stinging, raging with pain, and fought back tears.

"On the floor. Back against the toilet. NOW!"

He dropped to hands and knees, and scurried across the bathroom to comply. Mistress usually relieved herself after a bath, and the slave opened his mouth wide to receive her golden nectar. He closed his eyes tight, not permitted to gaze at Mistress Black's smooth, muscular beauty.

"Close your mouth, slave!" she commanded.

He obeyed, and felt himself being showered with Mistress' pee, spraying all over his face, his shaved head, down his torso. Dripping down his arms, his legs. The scent of her piss made his cock want to rise, and he had to fight hard to keep it soft, even as his gasps for breath snuffled the droplets of her pee, noisily, into his nostrils. His mouth tightened with the effort, of remaining soft... and quiet... Suppressing the need to open his mouth, and feel the long, warm stream against his tongue, down his throat, warming his insides, soothing him... All denied... Denied, and dribbling down his chin and neck, onto the floor... cooling...

"Now," Mistress said, "Clean up this mess. With your tongue, slave. Every drop. Lick it up -- but you're NOT allowed to swallow!" She chuckled. "Your punishment. Spit EVERY drop into the toilet. Then do your usual clean-up." She reached a hand into the bathwater and splashed it a couple of times. "And wash yourself up. You're disgusting! You can use TWO handfuls of my bathwater, no more!"

"Yes, Mistress," vomit answered.

"Did I say you could speak?" Mistress raised her hand, ready to deliver a blow if the slave replied. Wisely, he only shook his head. Good. She wasn't feeling kindly enough to the little slug to hurt her hand enough to punish him.

The slave leaned forward, and began licking Mistress Black's pee off the floor tiles. Getting a mouthful, crawling over to the toilet, spitting.

Of course, since he was of no use for dressing her, Mistress had to put on her bathrobe herself. He would suffer more for that... later...

She walked out the door, down the hall, to the living room. Her easy chair was properly arranged, with a glass of Chablis and a small plate of grapes and cheese. Mistress eased herself down into the chair, enjoying the soft embrace of the smooth leather surface.

"Would Mistress like this slave to brush out her hair?"

The voice came from behind Mistress Black. Her new slave, Sheila. The young auburn-haired woman didn't have a slave name, yet. She had not yet shown Mistress, what she would find to be truly demeaning.

"You will kneel in front of me, before you dare speak to me, slave," Mistress replied. "Bring the riding crop from the wall behind you."

In a moment, Sheila appeared before Mistress, in a tight French maid's uniform, made entirely of rubber. The skirt was short, not quite long enough to cover her closely shaved pussy in front, nor her smooth, round buttocks in back. She knelt in front of the chair, arms extended up and forward, holding the riding crop high and horizontal.

"Not quite level, slave," Mistress chided her. "Which end should be higher? THINK! Correct it, NOW!"

Flustered, Sheila looked up at the riding crop, trying to figure which hand needed to be raised.

"Eyes DOWN! Learn to do it by feel!" Mistress Black commanded.

Sheila looked at the rug beneath her, carefully imagining what her hands must look like. Right side higher, she guessed... hoped... She raised the left side, just a little. And waited. She could hear the clock over the mantle, counting off the seconds. Tick, one... Tick, two... Had she gotten it right?

Suddenly, she felt the crop removed from her hands.

"Better..." Mistress began, "but not high enough." Thwack! She struck Sheila's left hand, the blow stinging against her knuckles. "You will try harder, next time."

"Y--" Sheila cut herself off before getting too far with her response of "Yes, Mistress." She pressed her lips tightly together and nodded.

"Good girl," said Mistress. "Now, straddle my right foot. Push your pussy down onto it." Sheila walked forward on her knees, and sank down onto Mistress' foot. "That's right, get it deep up inside there."

Mistress gently stroked Sheila's left cheek with the riding crop, teasing her. Then the right cheek, as she sank deeper onto Mistress' toes, wiggled her hips, then sank further, her own buttocks pressed against the backs of her high-heeled pumps. Mistress wiggled her toes, and Sheila gasped, trying to hold her hips still. Staring at the floor, struggling NOT to look at Mistress' strong, smooth thighs. Mistress Black pushed her foot up... and down... up... and down... Tears formed in Sheila's eyes, as she tried to suppress the need to squeal, to moan... Up... and down... Suddenly, she felt a pulling, a drawing, as Mistress removed her foot from Sheila's cunt.

"I need a foot massage, slave," Mistress said, still caressing Sheila's face, one side then the other, with the riding crop. "With your tongue, and your fingers. Down on the floor, NOW, and please your mistress!"

"Y--" Ohhh, so hard to stop speaking! Sheila dropped immediately, face to Mistress' wet foot, and began kneading her toes, squeezing, licking and kissing. Tasting her own juices on Mistress' foot.

vomit appeared from the next room, smelling slightly of strawberry bubble bath, crawling across the floor and carrying a cell phone. He stopped near Mistress' chair, still looking downward, and held the phone up to Mistress.

"Who is it?" Mistress demanded. "Answer, slave."

"It is MzDominica, Mistress," vomit replied. He still held the phone high, and Mistress Black could see from the display that the "mute" button was activated. She took the phone from vomit, and he curled to the floor in a little ball, awaiting instructions.

A click of the button, and Mistress Black answered, pleasantly. "Hello, MzDominica! How are you?"

"I am fine, Mistress Black. Thanks for asking. You are well too?"

"Oh yes! Just enjoying a quiet evening at home." Sheila had completely cleaned all her juices off Mistress Black's right foot. Mistress slapped the girl's buttock with the crop, and presented her left foot, wiggling her toes slightly. She was pleased when Sheila crawled forward again, rose upward, and pushed her cunt down onto Mistress' left foot, eyes on the floor.

"Mmmmm... I'm sure it's a lot like MY quiet evenings at home," Dominica replied. "I wanted to talk about the slaves you have been sending my way."

"Yes...?" Mistress Black replied.

"They have been very responsive! And very helpful with the spring planting, and tending crops through the summer..."

"I'm glad to hear that!"

"Yes... A session or two in your 'decompression chambers,' and they somehow find themselves taking a long drive up in the mountains, looking for a vacation for a week or two." MzDominica chuckled. "Of course, once they've been here a while, and I've got them thoroughly trained, I send them back out! With more... complicated tasks to perform..."

"Then our agreement is working out!" Mistress Black concluded.

There was a brief silence at the other end of the phone.

"Mistress Black," Dominica continued. "Since fall began, the number of new slaves has been dropping... Are you experiencing some kind of a problem?"

"No..." Mistress Black replied, "no problems. The relaxation chambers are working fine, and business is great, at all 800 of my franchises."

"Then why have the slaves stopped coming?" Dominica asked.

Mistress Black pulled her left foot out of Sheila's pussy, and gently tapped the back of her head with the riding crop. The girl knelt down on all fours and began kneading and sucking Mistress' left foot.

"I'm surprised to hear that," Mistress Black said, flatly. "I'll have to check into it."

Another pause at the other end.

"Please do," MzDominica continued. "I have a large harvest that needs to be gotten in!"

"Certainly, MzDominica," Mistress Black said. "I'm glad you brought this to my attention. Mmmmm... I need to hang up now, something's come up."

"Of course," said MzDominica. "I'll talk to you later."

Mistress Black pressed the button to disconnect, and tapped the cell phone on the top of vomit's bald head. He reached up and took the phone. Mistress then returned her attentions to the panting maid in front of her. She laughed, quietly.

A thousand miles away, MzDominica pressed a button on her phone. She looked at her accountant, who knelt at her feet, also awaiting orders. "Find out what's going on," she said.

"Yes, Mistress," the slave replied. He crawled out of Dominica's office, through the tiny slave door. Once inside his own office, he stood up, picked up his own phone, and dialed a number. "This is 27. You must obey Dominica. Execute protocol 77."

"I must obey Dominica," came the voice from the other end. "It will be done."

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More to come, later!

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