NEVER TEASE A MASTER! By Throne (29 pages) (Patreon)

NEVER TEASE A MASTER!

By Throne

© 2019-2020 QoS Comix All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to ​[email protected] 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

***DEVIN DICKIE NOTE***

All characters are OVER 18 years of AGE! This is a bullying fantasy and not real.  The acts in the following written work are only consensual  sexual choices and fantasy humiliation scenarios.

Bullying is NOT OKAY and If you or someone you know is being bullied, please alert the authorities. 

NEVER TEASE A MASTER

by Throne

PART ONE

I started doing it just for fun.  Ever since my teens I'd been enjoying a bit of crossdressing.  Mostly it was just panties.  In my twenties I got an apartment where I could have more clothing, though I still limited myself.  Then there was a wig.  And make-up.  It became a regular occurrence for me to change from Barry to Bunny.  Of course I visited all sorts of TV sites on-line.  Who doesn't?  And I was intrigued by guys who had declared themselves to be Masters.  It interested me so much, for whatever reasons, that I corresponded with a few of them.  Since I was anonymous on the computer, I did some flirting and teasing, even though I had no intentions of ever meeting or interacting with any of them. 

Then I contacted Lord Iron.  At first we just sent a few notes back and forth, getting to know each other.  Soon he mentioned that I had a nice way of expressing myself, which flattered me.  A few days later he requested a photo.  I had never taken a selfie while in drag and didn't intend to start then.  Still, he persisted, being gently persuasive but with a hint of authority in his demands, as if he assumed I would accede to his wishes eventually.  I put on my favorite bra and panty set, skimpy lingerie in bright pink.  Then I had a glass of wine to relax me while I thought about telling him what I was wearing, though there would still be no photo.  Next came the cosmetics, which I applied rather heavily, with special attention to my mouth.  Red lipstick, liner, and a final coat of gloss made what I considered my best feature really pop.  I posed in front of the mirror with my tongue visible, getting myself excited by how I looked. 

Taking a break, I poured a second glass of wine and sipped it carefully, not wanting to mess up my mouth.  The wig followed and I was thrilled with the effect of everything at once.  Strutting around the house, glass in hand, being careful not to spill any, I got more and more into the right mood.  Then I had what seemed like an inspiration.  I would take pictures and not send them.  It would be fun to fantasize about going that far and imagining how Lord Iron might react.  I took shots in the kitchen, living room, and even the bedroom.  For one I removed my bra and hugged a heart-shaped pillow over my smooth hairless chest.  For another I shed my panties and tucked my candy back between my smooth thighs to make me appear more girly. 

It was so much fun.  I was halfway through my third glass of wine, thinking about my low tolerance to alcohol and promising myself that it was my last, when I had another idea.  If teasing Lord Iron with suggestive words was entertaining, why not send him a photo of my bed?  That would really get him heated up.  He wouldn't feel like much of a Lord with me regulating what he was allowed to see.  I took the shot and prepared to send it.  When I went to finish the process I did something wrong.  Instead of just that shot, in my tipsy state I somehow sent everything I'd taken.  OMG.  But they were all still of me in full make-up, impossible to recognize.  I got myself settled down and eventually changed into a baby doll nightie I cherished, pale blue chiffon, with ruffles that started on the shoulder straps and extended around the neckline, and wider ruffles on the hem.  I wore it with nothing underneath and relished the feel of it against my satiny skin as I drifted off to sleep. 

The next morning I headed to work like usual.  When I got to the office everything was normal.  There was some buzzing among several of the other guys but I figured it was just the latest sports news being shared.  I'm short and have always been slender, so I never got into sports.  As an adult I didn't join a gym.  I was sensitive about having my small three-piece-set viewed by anyone in the locker room.   All I did to stay in shape was some walking.  I certainly didn't want any muscular definition when I was Bunny.  How UGH would that be?  I went to my cubicle and turned on the computer.  It blinked to life and I went to my page.  I checked the mail and saw something with SEXY SISSY on the title line. When I opened it I was staring at a picture of -- Bunny.  I went into some form of shock. 

I closed it and took a few deep breaths.  There was another item titled Lord Iron.  Had he found out who I was and where I worked?  Had he hacked into my account?  In a daze I opened the second item.  There was a picture of me, as myself, in my bathroom.  I remembered taking it recently after getting a haircut from a new stylist and wanting to preserve how it looked on its first day.  Alongside that image was one of me as Bunny, in the same location.  If anyone saw them side-by-side, my secret would be out.  One of my co-workers, Larry, leaned into my workspace.  I grabbed some papers and held them over the screen.

He said, "It's okay.  We all got that picture.  I just wanted to get your opinion about if it's a girl or a guy."

"A guy," I said with too much force.  "Definitely a guy."  They must have gotten the first image, without the other for comparison.

"Okay.  Thanks."  He went away and left me alone.

There was text below the pair of pictures.  It said, "Dear Bunny.  You teased me a lot and now it's time for us to meet.  Be at the Leather Feather at 9 this evening.  Don't bring anything except your pretty self, all dressed up for me.  Don't bring your wallet, keys or whatever.  Just you.  Call for a car from a driver service.  Don't worry about getting back home.  I'll take care of that.  And I won't take 'no' for an answer."

OMG.  I was trapped.  All I could do was meet him under his terms.  Then I would explain everything, maybe have one drink, and get driven home.  The place we were meeting was just outside an industrial park, not an area where I'd want to be abandoned.  For the rest of the day I was a tangle of frayed nerves.  At last work was over and I drove home.

But when I turned on my computer I got another unwelcome shock.  My inbox was filled with letters from guys addressing me as Bunny.  They were asking for dates and making lewd suggestions.  Some had included photos of their genitals.  Many were suggesting they give me 'erotic spankings'.  Just the thought of being put over some guy's knee to have my fanny swatted was traumatic.  I cringed away from the screen.  Lord Iron must have placed an ad in my name.  If he decided to give out my home address, or worse the one where I worked, I would be ruined.  I got myself as calm as I could, which wasn't very, and tried to believe I could get through the evening in one piece. 

A few hours before I had to be there I laid out my clothes.  There was some sexy lingerie, the only kind I owned.  My lacy bra was padded just enough to create the illusion of small breasts.  The first dress I had purchased was a plain one in navy blue, back before I dared to buy anything more eyecatching.  I selected a few pieces of jewelry and got out my one pair of heels, which I luckily had taught myself to walk in.  My reddish-blond wig didn't need any care.  I lined up the cosmetics I would use.  At the end of the row I placed a bottle of perfume, a tropical one that I thought of as Bunny's signature scent. 

I got dressed and made up.  It was the least fun I'd ever had becoming Bunny.  There was still a half hour to waste after I called for a driver.  I checked myself obsessively several times.  My hope was that the driver would be very nearsighted or extremely understanding.  Maybe he wouldn't realize I was a tranny.  Normally I didn't use that term when thinking of myself but now, going to a shady club in a bleak area on the outskirts of the city, it felt appropriate.  The driver arrived.  He was a young guy who eyed me with interest.  I tried to be discrete and wondered if he'd notice that I didn't have a bag or purse.  It was so strange to be without money, credit cards, ID, keys or phone.  When we got to the Leather Feather it was on a street with too few overhead lights.  The only other businesses open were a regular bar and an all-night diner that must have catered to night workers. 

A small sign over a plain door was the only identification for the club.   Several burly men were lounging outside the entrance.  They watched me closely as I tipped the driver and started toward the Leather Feather.  I noticed that the sign hung on hooks, probably so it could be removed when they were closed.  It was not a business that sought publicity.  I hurried past the men ogling me but once inside I found no refuge.  There were more guys lined up along the bar.  I saw plenty of leather and denim, boots and heavy work shoes, plus tattoos on most of the bare arms.  Interspersed with the rough looking males were several females or, I realized as my eyes adjusted to the dim light, cross-dressed men like myself.  Unlike me they appeared happy to be there and eager to draw male attention.  Across the room were tables where more customers sat, most of them in butch and femme pairs.  I moved uncertainly toward the bar.

"Hey, gorgeous," said a hulking figure in T-shirt, leather vest, torn jeans, and steel-toed shoes.  "You're looking mighty fine tonight."

It had to be Iron Lord.  What a relief that he'd spotted me right away.  He gripped my slim wrist and pulled me near. 

"H... hello," I said in my best Bunny voice, or the best I could manage in my current stressed condition.

"Hello yourself," he said.  "How about a Creamy Mouthful?"

"What?" I said, aghast at his suggestion.

He saw my overreaction and clarified, "It's a drink, girly.  With white foamy stuff on top.  Get it?"

I forced a weak smile.  "Right.  Sorry.  I was just..."

"No problem.  My man behind the bar heard me and he's already mixing it."  When I froze up at the thought of drinking anything strong he said, "Don't worry.  It'll relax you.  You're as nervous as a kitten."  

"Sorry.  Just the circumstances."

"Not to worry."  He patted the barstool next to his.  "Park your pretty tail on there."

When I went to sit he had put his hand under me, unseen.  I plumped myself down on it and yelped.  He chuckled and gave my bottom a squeeze.  I rose up slightly and he withdrew it.  The rudely named drink arrived in a tall glass.  There was an excess of froth on top.  I took a sip as delicately as I could but still made a mess of my upper lip.

My companion chortled and said, "Looks just like you-know-what.  Like you just gave a BJ.  The way she's doing," he said, gesturing toward the tables.  I took the napkin beside my drink and blotted my mouth.  Then I turned to check where he indicated.  There was a girl, or rather a guy dressed as one, under a table on his knees, with his face between some man's thighs, bobbing his head.  I turned back and took a long swallow from my glass.  It went straight to my head.

"Listen," I said, "we have to talk."

"Sure thing.  I love to watch your lips move."  He gave me a broad wink.

"It's just, well, the way you got me to come here and everything.  There's been a misunderstanding.  I'm sure you're a good guy and all but..."

His blank expression silenced me.  "I didn't get you to come here, darling.  I mean, unless that's your scene.  If you want to pretend I'm a mean guy who has control of you, I can sure play that game."

I leaned forward.  "Please.  I'm sorry I teased you on-line.  And hinted that I wanted to get together.  It was wrong.  And I guess it was fair payback for you to make me come here like this, Iron Lord."

"Whoa," he said, holding up both hands with the palms toward me.  "You were told come here by Iron Lord?"  He took his beer, stood up, and put more money atop his change from earlier on the bar.  "Nice to meet you and all, but I'm not looking to get into a face-off with THAT guy."

"Wait.  What?  You're not him?"

"Wish I was.  Man's fantastic.  But no, honey, I'm not.  So let's just part as friends." 

He hastened away.  I sat there trying to sort out what had just happened.  The nameless guy had assumed I was there alone and wanted to be picked up.  He was obviously uncomfortable with the idea of confronting Iron Lord.  I took another swallow from my glass.  When I turned to survey the room, the TV who'd been under the table was backing out.  She -- I'll use the female pronoun -- stood up and pulled a lace hanky from her tiny purse that hung on a long shoulder-strap.  She made a performance of patting her lips and the corners of her mouth.  Then she took out a tube of lipstick and mirror to freshen up her appearance, as if nothing odd had just occurred.  The nearest guy said something and she bent at the waist to lock lips with another faux female sitting there.  The first one hadn't rinsed her mouth or taken a drink or anything.  I was nauseated. 

"What's the matter?" asked a deep male voice.  "Jealous of what your sissy sister just got?"

"No," I said angrily as I swiveled the stool.  "I have no desire to..."

His rugged features and cool expression silenced me.  The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with his hair worn short and his square jaw covered in a five o'clock shadow.  I took yet another drink.  He smiled with one side of his mouth and held out an overgrown hand with thick fingers.  I accepted it and his enfolded mine completely.  He applied just enough pressure to convince me that he could do significant harm without even trying.  I swallowed with difficulty and gazed up into his dark eyes. 

In a wispy voice I asked, "Lord Iron?"

"That's me," he confirmed, taking the vacated stool and holding up a girthy index finger for the bartender to see.  "So nice to get up close and personal after how you halfway seduced me on-line.  Now you'll get to follow through."

"About that," I responded uncertainly, "I was just... um... being a tease.  Having some fun."

"Honestly?  You sure fooled me."  His easygoing arrogance had vanished, replaced my calm reconsideration.  "Then I guess I'll be driving you home pretty soon."

My whole body untensed.  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "Thank you.  I was afraid there might be a problem."

"Not at all." His beer had arrived.  He took the glass and raised it ceremoniously.  "To being just friends."

I lifted my own glass, now considerably lighter than when I had received it.  When I put it to my lips and tilted it back he put a finger on the bottom and angled it further, causing me to have to drain it.  I again had to pat dry my mouth.  Lord Iron chuckled.

"Let me get you another one of those," he said, lifting the glass for the bartender to see that it was empty.

"Oh, I think I've had enough and..."

"I insist."  There was just enough determination behind his words to tell me not to stand firm.

After all, I was in drag, in a scary bar, in a remote neighborhood, with no money, ID, keys or phone.  I relented and gave him a smile, aware that my head was spinning slightly.   As I started into the second Creamy Mouthful -- still disturbed by the implications of the drink's name -- Iron Lord spoke to me, levelly but with an underlying authority, as if he were accustomed to giving orders and being obeyed.  He talked about how I had played around with him in our chats and the expectations that had raised. 

"You know," he concluded, "I really had some high hopes for the two of us."

I tried to dismiss that with a wave of my hand, though by that point my limbs weren't cooperating fully.  As if it would help, I drank more of that potent concoction.  At last I was to the bottom of the large glass -- again.

I told him, "I should be getting home."

"Agreed.  How about if I help you to my van?"

"Hey, sure."  My words were only slightly slurred.

He got up and gestured for me to do the same.  I stood and swayed.  Lord Iron put his long arm around my shoulders.  I felt protected but also uneasy.  He walked me toward the door.  A few other guys gave him knowing smiles, not understanding that nothing beyond a ride to my place was planned.  I was flattered in a way to be seen like that, all dolled up, being escorted by a tall handsome man.  Not that I wanted it to go any further, like I keep stressing.  We left the building and he steered me toward a lot across the street where numerous vehicles were parked.  His black van was in the rear.  He opened the passenger side door and helped me to get in.  Lord Iron took advantage of the moment to give my bottom a push, that also included a squeeze, but I didn't object.  I mean, he had expected more so I couldn't begrudge him one free feel.  I was drunk enough that he had to buckle my seat belt for me.  Moments later we were on the road.  He appeared to know where he was going, I assumed from having tracked my address, so I didn't offer any help.  I made a mental note to say something about everything he'd done on-line, but not until I was leaving the van.  And I definitely didn't intend to invite him in for a drink or anything else.

For a short while I relaxed, even closing my eyes for a few minutes.  When I saw that we were going away from the city and into a rural area, along a road through thick woods, I became concerned. 

"I, um, thought you were taking me home."

"I am.  My home.  Actually more like a home away from home.  It's a hunting lodge I own with three buddies."

"But didn't we establish that you and I are just friends?"

"Let's say we're very close friends.  Or will be soon."

"But I didn't...  I'm not..."

He made a shushing sound.  "Take it easy, Bunny.  This is what can happen when you tease a Master.  Or would you rather I just let you out right now?"

We were on a two lane road with no street lights, and nothing else around us but forest.  I was even more unnerved than I had been.  I mumbled my acquiescence.  Lord Iron laughed quietly and continued driving.  After another twenty minutes he turned onto a narrow access road that was marked only by a PRIVATE PROPERTY sign.  He followed the rutted track around several curves before we reached a large rustic structure with two stories.  It was the size of a spacious home.  I guessed that each of the four co-owners had a separate bedroom.  There were lights on inside and two sturdy SUVs plus a jeep parked out front.  This was getting worse and worse.  I had been shocked out of my tipsy state yet still felt physically hampered by the alcohol.  He got out and opened my door.  I stepped from the van and stood there swaying for a minute.  He took hold of my slim wrist and tugged me close to him, so he could get an arm behind my back and guide me along, at the same time lending some support.  We went up three steps onto a porch that ran the full width of the place.  Enough light came out the windows that I could see where I was stepping.  Then he opened the front door and swept me inside.

PART TWO

My deepest fears were realized as I saw three burly men seated around a living room.  They were macho and dressed to fit, in flannel shirts, worn jeans, and heavy work shoes.  All of them would have been at home back in The Leather Feather.  They grinned at me.  There was a large-screen TV on some sports channel, which one of them muted.  They all stood and crowded around me.  Lord Iron introduced them as Master Lex, Hammer and Warden.

The last one explained, "That's Warden, like the man who runs a prison."

They all had facial hair, which further set me apart in my smooth-faced state.  I cringed as they reached out to squeeze a shoulder, feel a slender arm, and check my padded bra.  Someone patted my bottom and I flinched.  Suddenly there were hands all over me, pushing me around and picking at my clothes.  Two of them held me as another got me out of my dress.  I stood there in bra and panties.  One of the men gave a whistle of appreciation.  Another complimented my perfume.  The last asked me what my girl-name was.

In a small quivering voice I said, "It's Bunny."

"Well, Bunny," decided Lord Iron.  "I'm sure my pals would like to see the rest of you.  Why don't you get out of that sexy underwear?"

I swallowed with difficulty.  They all moved away for a better view.  Cameras came out and they began taking pictures.  My unsteady fingers went to the clasp in the front of my bra, between the modest cups.  I undid it and bared my narrow hairless chest.  There was a sharp intake of breath from Master Lex.  He moved in to put a hand on the back of my neck, holding me in place while he touched one nipple and then the other.  His fingers were large but gentle as he played with them.  Soon I was moaning in spite of myself, and squirming uncontrollably.  I've always been sensitive there.  As if my sounds and movements weren't bad enough, I started to get hard in my panties.  That elicited chuckles and murmurs.

Iron Lord said what they were probably all thinking.  "Not much down there.  That's bad if you're a regular guy but perfect if you're a sissy like Bunny."

"But I'm not... I mean... I only like to dress up in private and..." 

Hammer shushed me.  He said, "Being small down there is good for you.  It's a constant reminder of your relationship to real men like us, with equipment like this."

He opened his fly and worked free his penis.  It was long and thick, hanging there so near to me.  Then he put his hand on the front of my panties and rolled my male parts around.  I froze.  Next he took my hand and brought it to his member to make me touch it.  That was a first for me.   One of the others moved in to get capture some digital images. 

"Go on," Hammer said.  "Take hold.  Give it some massaging and see what happens."

It was like I was living out one of those stories I'd read on-line, at my favorite site, Fantasy Obsession.  As I hesitantly manipulated his organ it grew alarmingly, until there were nine girthy inches, more than I could get my short fingers around, with a bulbous head.

He told me, "That's the difference between us.  I've got a king-size cock and you have a tiny willy.  In fact, that's what you should call that thing between your legs.  It's sure not a cock and not even a dick.  It's just a sissy willy.  Right?"

"Y... yes," I whispered, shamefaced.

Hammer suggested, "Shouldn't that be 'Yes, Sir'?"

"I... um... Yes, Sir."

"Much better.  And let us hear that all the time, Bunny.  Now stuff my business back into my pants... unless there's something else you want to do to it right now."

"N... no, Sir.  I'm sorry."

"That's all right.  There's always later."

I got him back behind his fly and zipped it up.  I could still feel his cock against my palm and fingers.  The mood relaxed when Iron Lord decided I should serve everybody beers.   He led me to the kitchen, gave me a round tray to use, and opened the fridge.  I took out four bottles and arranged them carefully so the load would be balanced.  Then, in just my panties, relieved that my erection was subsiding, I took them and went from guy to guy.  Each of them took a bottle and made sure to touch me.  They were seated again so it was the tops of my legs that got their attention.  Warden was last.  Setting aside his beer, he hooked one finger under the waistband of my skimpy panties to hold me there.

"Now why don't you finish that cute striptease you started for us and get let us see your sweet ass, along with that willy."

My face grew warm and I knew I was blushing.  All the men watched me expectantly.  I removed my shoes and lowered the panties to mid-thigh.  To get them the rest of the way down I had to bend forward, which provoked rude remarks.

"Nice butt, Bunny.  All it needs is a cottontail."

"Give it a wiggle for us."

"You'll make some guy a hell of a lover, twink."

I stepped out of my panties.  Warden pulled me down onto his lap.  I squealed but didn't attempt to get away.  He gave me a hug tight enough that I wouldn't soon forget his superior strength.  He took my arm and draped it around his shoulder.  I kept it there, feeling oh so possessed by him.  He twisted off the cap of his beer and took a swig.

Warden told me, "I know you want to feel my mustache.  Go on and do it."

Thick stiff hair covered his upper lip and descended from either corner of is mouth to his broad jawline.  I raised my hand uncertainly and drew my fingertips across the thick brush and down.  It sent a shiver through me.  In comparison I had nothing.  Even when I didn't keep my face smooth there was barely anything growing on it. 

He held me tighter and whispered in my ear.  "I'm hairy everywhere.  Bet you'd like to explore all that," he prompted.

Sitting there, nude on his lap, I felt totally vulnerable.  Barely audible, afraid of angering him, I said, "Yes, Sir."

He insisted, "You can say it better than that.  And louder.  Tell me what you want to do."

With enough volume that the others could hear it, I expanded my words to, "I want to check out your hairy body.  All over."

"Including..."  He left that unfinished for me to complete.

I took a deep breath, wishing there were some way to avoid this degrading shame.  "I want to check you out everyplace, including..."  I had to fill in the blank and knew what he wanted to hear.  "... between your legs."  To make sure he was satisfied I added, "Up close and... personal."

Warden squeezed my thigh and stood me on my feet.  He announced, "This sissy is trying to be a good girl.  And I can tell she wants to cover up.  So how about if we give her something to wear?"

Iron Lord mentioned, "There's still plenty of clothes in the closet from the last few pansies who came to visit.  The ones who were here voluntarily.  Not like Bunny who teased me and didn't plan to finish what she started.  But sure, let's find her something to put on."

Master Lex volunteered, "I know what's in there and have just the right thing in mind.  Let me go get it."

What a relief.  They were showing some mercy.  And they hadn't done anything sexual beyond some groping and that mortifying cock handling.  Still, Iron Lord seemed to expect more payback for how I'd teased and tantalized him on-line.  As much as I regretted it, that didn't appear to be enough.  A few minutes later Master Lex reappeared carrying something on a padded hanger and several loose items.  The first thing I noticed was that there was plenty of pink.  Then I took a second look and saw that what was on the hanger was a dress so short I hadn't immediately realized what it was.  He handed it to me and I nearly started crying.   The top consisted of two straps that started at the waist and went over the shoulders, like suspenders and not much wider.  The bottom was a mere few inches that would leave most of my bottom bare and my penis -- I mean my willy -- peeking out.  There were also stockings and ballet slippers.  The final item was perhaps the most insulting of all, an oversized bow that would clip to the top of my wig.  I sniffed as they took more pictures and I got into the dress, which left me feeling somehow more naked than when I had been completely without clothes.  I rolled the stockings up my legs and slipped the slippers on my feet.  Finally I fitted the bow to my wig and stood there feeling like the least masculine man alive. 

"That's a good look for you," Lord Iron asserted.  The others muttered agreement.  He went on, "But there's still the matter of you playing unfairly with me on your computer.  Naughty behavior must be punished.  A sissy like you needs discipline to learn her lesson, Bunny.  I think a hard, over-the-lap spanking would be just the thing to teach you a lesson.  Don't you agree?"

I wrung my hands and tried to tug down that poor excuse for a skirt in back, and then in front.  I shifted my feet uneasily.  I gave them my saddest look of contrition.  Nothing worked.  Lord Iron went to a wooden chair, sat down, and motioned for me to join him.  I took tiny steps but still arrived all too soon.  He made an impatient sound and pulled me across his lap.  I found myself in that unhappy situation, my bare bottom on display, feet moving restlessly, hands on the floor. 

All I had time to say was, "Please, Sir...", before the first hard spank landed.  "OWWW."

They came hard and fast.  He didn't let up as my bottom got sorer and sorer, until I was blinking back tears, my nose running, a steady stream of yelps escaping from between my painted lips.  Lord Iron stopped.  I sighed with relief but then he announced that we were only halfway through.  I had to stand, turn, and lie back over his muscular thighs facing the other direction.  After three more spanks the last of my stoicism, which there hadn't been much of to begin with, vanished and I was hollering nonstop.

"Please, no more.  It hurts too much.  I can't stand it.  You have to stop, Sir."

He said there were twelve to go.  That final dozen left me bawling and blubbering, totally humiliating myself.  Iron Lord effortlessly got me upright and sent me to present myself to each of the others.  I went tearfully and showed each one my well-tanned backside.   They had used their cameras during my ordeal and now got some close-ups.  Master Lex mentioned that they would look terrific on the group's private web page.  I was glad it would only be the four of them seeing those, until Hammer said that the other members would really get a kick out of them.  And Warden noted that there would be plenty of interest in meeting me. 

Iron Lord decided, "It's time for Bunny to thank us."

I goggled at him in shock.  "For what?" I blurted without thinking.  Remembering my situation I said, "If you could please tell me, Sir."

"Sure, girl.  You have to thank us for that lovely outfit, and for not punishing you even harder, and for helping you live your fantasies."

"B... but, I never want to do all this.  I just like dressing at home and reading stories on-line and... and..."  I saw where my problem was.  "... and teasing Masters like you, Lord Iron."

His dark eyebrows went up.  "And why do you think you did something so risky?"

"I didn't think I'd get caught.  And I never imagined that if I did, it could lead to this.  Plus I kind of liked the idea of a strong man..."  I sobbed quietly.  "... being angry with me and... wanting to settle the score with me."

"So maybe you did want something this extreme to happen.  Secretly.  Even though you couldn't admit it even to yourself.  Isn't that possible?"

"Maybe.  But I don't know how I could thank you."

The men got out of their pants and sat back down, bare from waists to toes, impressively developed cocks and balls exposed.  I gasped.  Lord Iron signaled for me to approach him.  He pointed from his mouth to me, and then down at his flaccid tool.  I got the message.  He wanted my mouth to become acquainted with his shaft.  The room seemed to tilt.  In a trance I went to him, aware that every eye was on me and my shameful pink outfit.  I reached up to make sure the hair bow was still in place.  When I was directly front of Iron Lord I sank wordlessly to my knees in worshipful submission.  I leaned in and reverently kissed the head of his manhood, so much more impressive than my own.  He rewarded me with an approving grunt.  I licked several times, bring him halfway up, and used my fingers to complete the task.  The remnants of my willpower evaporated and I took the bulging knob between my lips, sucking hard and swirling my tongue around it, as if I had been doing it for years. 

"That's my good sissy," he soothed.  "Bunny knows what she's meant to do for true men." 

I knew right then that they saw me as their sex slave.  Taking my time, I gave Lord Iron as much pleasure as I could.  After he exploded in my mouth I gagged down his heavy output, but also kept sucking until he indicated that he was completely done by pushing my head away.  Before I could recover, Master Lex called me to him.  I crawled toward where he sat.  His substantial cock was already half hard, I assumed from watching me satisfy Lord Iron.  As soon as I got there I fastened my lips just behind the fat head and went to work.  He laughed and make a joke about me trying to keep up with my workload.  At the end he made me release him, so he could stroke himself off and fire onto my tongue from close range. 

Hammer let me get started.  I noticed he smelled musky.  Then he ran his forefingers along the crease between the tops of his thighs and his crotch.  When he held them under my nose I got a powerful whiff of what he'd collected, a combination of sweat and oily secretions that must have been accumulating for several days.  I don't know why but it affected me like an olfactory aphrodisiac.  I went wild, gobbling his cock and licking his balls.  After he rubbed some more of that greasy stuff under my nostrils it put me over the edge.  I sucked him off like I was starving for his spunk.  It was absolutely humiliating but I couldn't help myself.  When he emptied his balls I gulped it all down greedily.

That left only Warden, who got down by my side.  He put me in a headlock and demanded, "Are you going to be a good sissy?  Are you ready to let me screw your face?  I want to hear you say it."

He was on a strange power trip that I had to go along with.  I swore, "I'll be a good sissy, Sir.  You can screw my face.   You can rape my mouth.  Sir."

Warden sprang to his feet and plugged his rigid stick between my lips.  He hunched his hips furiously.  When I gagged too much he backed off enough that he wasn't invading my throat, except on every fourth or fifth stroke.  He must have done this many times before.  When he came it was on the in-stoke, so his cream went directly down my gullet.  I felt utterly violated.  After he sat back down all I could do was kneel there with my head hung down, well used, with four helpings of ejaculate in my tummy.

And I was hard again.  What?  How?  Why?  My tiny willy showed below that inadequate skirt.  Lord Iron spotted it.

He snapped at me, "Bunny, get your delicate hand on your delicate willy.  Let's see you pump it, strumpet."

As if under a spell, I reclined and obeyed.  I was jerking off right in front of four sets of excited eyes and four cameras, on my back, looking up at all of them.  They leered at me while I surrendered more of my masculinity.  After I had squirted all over my belly, Lord Iron sat astride my chest with his flaccid cock touching my lips.

"Let's go, sissy," he encouraged.  "Round two.  We like to get full use out of our pansy boys."

OH NO!  I was going to have to service all four cocks again.  Swallow four more loads.  Act like an unquestionably cock-hungry fag boy for them once more.  And seal my fate.  I got busy and so did their cameras.

After they had all had their fun, with Warden manhandling me again, demonstrating some wrestling holds, I sat there in a daze.  Lord Iron took a picture me with my mouth open and cum on my lips and chin.

He said to the other three, "Hey, men, next week is one of our big group get-togethers.  Three-day weekend.  I'm already hearing back from the guys about the shots we posted on our webpage.  They're eager to meet Bunny baby.  She can serve drinks and snacks and keep the whole gang happy.  Unless, of course, she doesn't want to." He locked eyes with me.  I could barely keep from looking away, I was so intimidated.  Then he held up his camera, as if I needed to be reminded of all the blackmail material they had.  "So, Bunny," he wanted to know, "are you available?"

There was only one possible answer.  Still reeling from the uncharacteristic ways I had acted, I said, "Yes, Sir.  I'm available."  Without thinking, I added, "Very available.  Sir."

He nodded.  "Good girl.  I'm sure you'll make a lot of new friends.  And we'll have another pretty outfit for you to wear."

"Thank you, Sir."

Now I'm waiting for the weekend.  I've learned what can happen when you play mind games with a Master, and have seen facets of myself I never suspected were there.  I wonder what else I'll find out about Bunny.

THE END