A Slave's Diary – Part 8
By Leslie McCormick
A female bodybuilder becomes a sex slave to a harsh mistress



Part Eight

	I wasn't certain what was going on.  Things had subtly changed.  Only hours  
before, Mary Ellen had physically beaten Aunt Jennifer, thereby establishing her  
dominion over her.  I'd thought that Aunt Jennifer was terrified of Mary Ellen, and only  
submitted to the humiliation and sex play because she wanted to avoid another thrashing.   
Yet, just now, I'd seen my aunt turn into a willing participant in Mary Ellen's deviant  
games.  All her previous shyness had completely vanished.  It was astonishing.  It was as  
though Aunt Jennifer had been looking for an excuse to release the sexual longings  
within her.  Having Mary Ellen force her into engaging in sex allowed her to assuage  
whatever guilt she might have felt at enjoying her degradation.  
	I was the one who was scared now.  At thirteen, I'd begun to develop a womanly  
body, but I was still a virgin.  I knew a great deal about sexual matters, though, but  
observing my older sister.   
Even as a child, Mary Ellen had been wild and rebellious.  Our father left the  
child-rearing responsibilities to our mother.  She was a freewheeling spirit and had  
extremely liberal tendencies.  I, on the other hand, was more conservative.  I shared none  
of Mary Ellen's wildness.  Since entering puberty, Mary Ellen's sole focus had been to  
satisfy herself sexually.  Clothes were a major inconvenience to her.  She discarded them  
whenever she could.  Being naked so much led her to an exploration of her body.  Once  
she discovered how to masturbate, she indulged in the practice every chance she got.  By  
the time she was fourteen, she was having intercourse.  By the time our parents died, she  
had a reputation throughout high school as an easy lay.  Her girlfriend, Monica, taught  
Mary Ellen how to suck cock, and she took to the practice like a fish to water.  At first,  
she sucked cock for the simple pleasure of it.  When she discovered that the boys would  
pay for the service, she started charging them ten dollars a piece for a blow job; fifteen if  
they wanted to come in her mouth.  Nearly every boy coughed up the extra five dollars.   
By the time her sixteenth birthday came around, Mary Ellen had nearly three thousand  
dollars stashed away.
	"Come here, pipsqueak," Mary Ellen said, beckoning.
	I walked over as though hypnotized.  Mary Ellen was my older sister, and I was  
used to doing what she told me.  Besides that, since our parents' deaths, I'd grown to  
depend on her for guidance and support.  She was my closest living relative, and she  
helped me get over my grief.  There were times when she was cruel beyond words to me,  
but she was my sister, and I loved her.
	"Get undressed," Mary Ellen said.
	Dumbly, I handed her the candles I still held, and disrobed.  There are three  
attributes that define the McCormick family; large breasts, long nipples, and abnormally  
large clitorises.  Although I was still rail-thin, and had no hips or ass to speak of, my  
boobs were big.  I was already wearing a size 34 bra.  My nipples, even at thirteen, were  
longer than Mary Ellen's, and by the time I was fully developed, they would be nearly  
three-quarters of an inch long.  They weren't that long when I was thirteen, but they were  
still impressive, the more so because my boobs had still not fully developed.
	"She's so tiny," Aunt Jennifer said when I was naked.
	"Except where it counts," Mary Ellen laughed, reaching out to touch my left  
boob.  She patted the cushions between her and Aunt Jennifer.  "Sit down, pipsqueak."
	I edged my way between them.  Between their sweat and secretions, I was  
overwhelmed by womanly smells.  It was new and different for me, and I found myself  
deeply breathing in their scents.  All of this was confounding me.  I have to confess that I  
used to sneak into Mary Ellen's room when she was away and sneak peeks at the  
pornographic books she kept, but reality is much more intense than fantasy.  The heat  
from their bodies, the scent of them, the sight of some much naked female flesh, the  
knowledge that I was going to be initiated into the mysteries of sex, assaulted my senses,  
and turned me into a helpless puppet, controlled by Mary Ellen's whims.
	They worked on me in tandem, like a well-oiled machine.  They started slowly at  
first, caressing my entire body, leaving no inch of skin untouched.  From the top of my  
head, to the soles of my feet, their fingers and hands traveled over me, heightening my  
awareness and sensitivity.  I rested my head back against the seat cushions, and closed  
my eyes.  I felt my nipples harden, and my clitoris expand as I grew more excited.  Soft  
lips kissed my forehead, and nose and mouth.  An insistent tongue found its way into my  
mouth.  A mouth sucked at my breast.  Tender fingers diddled my clitoris.  A moistened  
thumb pressed against my asshole.  A strong pair of hands kneaded my legs and feet.  By  
the time Mary Ellen pulled me to my feet, I was burning with passion.  I was panting like  
a dog, and my skin had taken on a rosy hue.  There was a growing hunger in my belly,  
and my crotch was wet and open.
	Mary Ellen made me get on my knees between Aunt Jennifer's widespread legs.   
There was almost no hair on Aunt Jennifer's pussy, just a neat triangle at the top of her  
mound.  Beneath it, her pussy lips were pink and fat, with large folds that concealed her  
clitoris.  The area between her pussy and asshole was hard and firm, and marked by tiny  
ridges.  Her anus was a bright pink puckered ring that slowly flared open, then closed.   
She smelled of sweat and sex.
"Here, take this."  Mary Ellen handed one of the candles to me.  I took it from her.
"Stick it up her ass."
Aunt Jennifer scooted her butt forward on the couch, giving me free access to her  
nether regions.  Drawing her knees up to her chest, she held her legs apart with her hands.   
Her face, framed by her white thighs, was flushed with expectation.  Beneath her lowered  
lids, her normally pale eyes looked dark and smoky.
I placed the fat end of the candle against her asshole, and gave it a tentative push.   
Her sphincter muscle tightened involuntarily.  Aunt Jennifer blew air through her lips,  
making a noise like a horse.  Then, she visibly relaxed.  Her asshole flared open.  It  
resembled a red, pouting mouth.  Impulsively, I leaned forward and kissed her there.   
Aunt Jennifer sucked in her breath with an audible gasp.
Mary Ellen had shifted around so that she had a clear view of what I was doing.   
One hand stroked her breast.  The fingers of the other hand were stroking her clit.
I put the candle against Aunt Jennifer's ass, and pushed.  It slipped in easily.  I  
worked it in and out, diddling her with it, and listened as her breathing grew  
progressively harsher and more labored.
"Lick her cunt," Mary Ellen said.
With my hands, I spread her pussy lips apart.  Her cunt fell open like a budding  
flower, exposing the moist, pink interior.  Viscous, white juice lay on the walls of her  
vagina, and ran down her cunt into the crack of her ass.  It moistened the end of the  
candle that protruded from her rectum, and allowed me to push more of it into her  
receptive hole.
I licked Aunt Jennifer like a cat drinking a saucer of milk.  My efforts were  
clumsy, and exposed my inexperience, but Aunt Jennifer didn't seem to mind.  She  
pushed her crotch against my face, and used her hands to maneuver my head in the way  
she liked.  Her legs rested on my shoulders, and her thighs pressed together on either side  
of my head.
I wasn't aware that Mary Ellen had crawled around behind me until I felt her  
mouth fasten on my own cunt.  It was like an electrical current run through my body.   
Every nerve ending seemed alive with sensation.  Her hands ran up along the underside  
of my body to grasp my nipples.  She twisted and pulled at them as she lapped my clit  
and tongued my canal.  My body was a sea of emotion and intense sensation.  The feeling  
in my nipples was being echoed in my pussy and ass.  I couldn't believe how the  
sensations in one part of my body could so completely influence another.
Aunt Jennifer was nearing orgasm.  Her thighs squeezed my head hard.  Mary  
Ellen's teeth nipped at my clit, and her fingers twisted my nipples as though she were  
trying to rip them from my tits.
There was a sudden tightening in my body, and then everything exploded.  I had  
my first orgasm, just as Aunt Jennifer came against my mouth.
It was a combination of everything of course that contributed to the intensity of  
my orgasm, but in hindsight what excited me the most was Mary Ellen's abuse of my tits.   
It excited me to have her pull and tweak my breasts the way she had.  The pain  
intensified my pleasure.  It was the first indication I had that I was a submissive who got  
off on being abused.  That was the first step taken on the road that eventually led me to  
Susan Donati.

	The morning after Susan had given me over to the women in the bar, I rose early  
and went to the gym to work out.  In addition to my slave collar, I wore my usual  
workout clothes under a set of sweats.  There were only a few people at the gym when I  
arrived.  These were the dedicated bodybuilders who came to train, and not to pose and  
be seen.  Their sole focus was on form and weight.
	I stowed my sweats in an empty locker, and began warming up.  It was warm  
inside the gym.  Loud rock music blared from the multiple speakers set high on the walls  
near the ceiling.
	I love working out.  There's a sense of power and accomplishment in handling  
heavy weights.  I not only liked the physical challenge, but I enjoyed the burning  
sensation in my muscles when I pushed them past the point of fatigue.  I'm constantly  
challenging myself to lift heavier and heavier weights.  Unlike some other bodybuilders, I  
am extremely self-motivated.
	I'd been dieting prior to my last competition, and I was down to one hundred fifty  
pounds.  It being the off season, I wanted to eat as much as I possibly could while  
training with very heavy weights so I could pack on additional muscle.  Although the  
sport was moving toward a leaner, more feminine look, I liked the muscle thickness and  
girth that heavy training gave me.  In competitions, I use that muscle density to intimidate  
the other competitors.  So, I put a lot of weight on the bar, lay down on the bench, and  
prepared to do some serious bench pressing.
	There was another woman working out, and I could tell that she was watching me  
covertly.  It didn't surprise me.  I've often been the center of attention when I lift.  People  
find it hard to believe how strong I am.  With the men, it's a competitive/jealousy thing.   
They always have to prove they're stronger.  With the women, I find that it's curiosity  
and intrigue.  My physique both attracts and repels.  In this woman's case, I had the sense  
that she found me attractive.  It was obvious in her body language, and in the way she  
kept staring at me.
	At the end of my workout, I went back to the locker room to retrieve my sweats  
prior to walking back to Susan's house.  The woman who'd been watching me had just  
finished dressing, and was stuffing her workout clothes into a worn gym bag.  She  
smiled.
	"Watching you was pretty impressive," she said.
	"Thank you."
	"My name's April," she said, extending a hand.
	We shook hands.  "Leslie McCormick."
	"You're a bodybuilder, aren't you?"
	I admitted I was.  April ducked her head.
	"I've always dreamed of being one," she said, "but I don't seem to have the  
motivation.  I work out in fits and starts, but I never seem to be able to sustain a solid  
routine."
	"It's hard," I said, slipping on my sweats.  "You have to really want it, and then  
you have to follow through on your commitment."
	"Do you live around here?"
	The question gave me pause.  Ordinarily, I lived in Boston, but things had  
changed.  Slowly, I nodded my head.
	"So do I," she said.  "Whereabouts?"
	I gave her Susan's street name.  Her face lit up in recognition.  "I know where that  
is.  My house is nearby.  We're practically neighbors."
	"Maybe we'll see each other around," I said.
	"Maybe.  It was nice meeting you, Leslie."
	"And you too, April."
	I was nearly out the door before she called me.  "Would you like to train together?   
I could pay you."
	I avoid training partners.  I've found them to be either unreliable or unable to  
match my training intensity.  Working out alone suits my personality and style.   
However, I found myself saying, "You don't have to pay me.  Why don't you meet me  
here tomorrow at about eight?  Can you make it?"
	"Yes," April said, and her smile was dazzling.  "I'll see you then."
	It was a two-mile walk from the gym to Susan's.  It was gorgeous day, with  
plenty of sunshine, and only a few wispy clouds.  The sky was the deepest blue I'd ever  
seen.  I walked in the grass at the side of the road, feeling fit and limber and happier than  
I'd been in years.
	Margo was in the pool when I returned.  Susan, in a snow-white string bikini, lay  
on a nearby chaise lounge, reading a magazine.  A glass of iced tea sat on a nearby table.   
Dark glasses covered her face.
	I stripped off my sweats and workout gear and walked naked to the outdoor  
sprinkler.  I turned on the water and stepped beneath the spray.  A bar of French-milled  
soap hung by a cord from the faucets.  I worked up a good lather, and washed thoroughly.   
The water was cold, but it felt good to my overheated body.  When my shower was over,  
I toweled off, and then went into the house.
	I fixed breakfast enough for three; coffee, scrambled eggs, wheat toast with jam,  
fresh fruit cut and sliced, and three glasses of chilled orange juice.  I put everything on  
the wheeled trolley, and took it out to the terrace.  Margo had finished her swim, and was  
sunning herself on the lounge next to Lydia.
	"Breakfast," I announced.  I dished out equal portions and passed them around.   
We ate in a companionable silence.
	"I want to shoot some more pictures of you today, Leslie," Susan said, when  
she'd finished eating.  "You'll spend the day in the studio with me.  Margo, I want you to  
telephone Lydia, and arrange to have her meet us for dinner this evening.  We'll stay in  
tonight, so you'll have to come up with something.  It doesn't have to be extravagant, but  
it does have to be good."
	"I understand, mistress," Margo said.
	"Good.  Clear these dishes away.  Leslie, meet me in the studio in fifteen  
minutes."
	It was cooler in the studio than it had been previously.  Susan had the props and  
lighting arranged.  She beckoned me to a director's chair that sat below the skylight.
	"I've been commissioned to do a bondage series, and I've decided to use you as  
the model.  Your body type will appeal to the target audience."
	I said nothing, for there was nothing to say.  The idea of the shoot distressed me.   
My earlier experience as Susan's model hadn't left a good taste in my mouth.  Modeling  
was strenuous, tedious work, and being tied up for hours on end with no relief, sexual or  
otherwise was unappealing.  Still, she was the mistress, and I the slave.  I had no options.
	As I suspected, the shoot was torture.  Because I was reluctant to have my face  
photographed, Susan insisted I wear the leather hood for the entire shoot.  It was hot and  
stuffy, and my discomfort was exacerbated by being bound.  The client had very specific,  
detailed instructions, and they involved intricate and limb-numbing positions.  By day's  
end, I ached in my joint of my body.  My tits were red and swollen, and my pussy felt as  
though it'd been savaged.  I was physically and mentally exhausted.  Susan sensed this.
	"You can have an evening to yourself," she said, dismissing me.  "There'll be  
another session tomorrow morning."
	I stumbled off to my room, and flopped down on the bed.  I was more tired than  
I'd ever been after a grueling workout session.  I was tempted to just lie there and sleep,  
but my natural cleanliness wouldn't allow it.  Wearily, I rose, and went to take a shower.   
I stayed under the water until it began to run cold.  Toweling myself dry, I re-entered the  
bedroom, only to find Margo waiting for me.  She lay on the bed with only a towel  
covering her groin.  When I appeared in the doorway, she held out her arms to me.
	"I want you," she said.  Her voice was throaty with passion, and her boobs heaved  
with her breathing.
	All my weariness fell away.  I'd been thinking about Margo, and here she was, as  
if summoned telepathically.  We both knew the restrictions under which we'd been  
placed, but that no longer mattered to us.  Our attraction for one another was too strong to  
be denied.  I wanted her as much, if not more, than she wanted me.  The mutual glances  
we'd exchanged over the past few days said more than words ever could.  It was  
chemistry ever bit as real as the air we breathed, or the water we drank.  I don't know  
what prompted Margo to come to me that night, but I accepted the gift of her presence  
without thought or question.  I dropped the towel to the floor, and went to her.
	For long, blissful minutes, we indulged our passion for each other.  Neither of us  
knew shame because we'd already been stripped of our inhibitions and societal morals.   
We were free to enjoy each other's bodies freely and completely, and even acts that  
would have been perverse to others seemed natural to us.  There was no act which we  
couldn't perform on each other.
	It was Lydia who discovered us together.  She and a friend had dropped by to  
have a drink with Susan, and had slipped away to visit me.  I appealed to her, and she  
didn't want to miss an opportunity to see me.  Margo and I would not have noticed her  
had it not been for her gasp of surprise.
	We pulled away from each, as though physical distance could eradicate Lydia's  
memory of our lovemaking.  Our faces wore identical looks of guilt.
	Lydia made no comment.  She simply turned, and left the room.  Margo and I  
looked at each other, uncertain what to do.  The unspoken question was answered a  
moment later.  Susan, her face a mask of absolute fury, appeared in the doorway.  If there  
was any doubt that we wouldn't be punished for our transgression, it was erased by the  
sight of her.  We'd rolled the dice, and taken our chance.  Now that the dice had come up  
snake's eyes, it was time to suffer the consequences.

End of Part Eight