HOW WE SERVE MASTER

It was the first time her pussy had ever been clamped.

Her face told me that.

It also showed her bewilderment.

She was 66 years old. An incredibly successful New York financial attorney who recently was made a federal judge.

Powerful.

Focused.

Experienced.

But here she was kneeling in front of a young man more than 40 years younger than her.

Kneeling naked. Except for the black stilettos she wore.

And the black leather, metal studded dog collar around her throat.

Depending on your definition of “wearing,” you might include the chain-linked pair of butterfly clamps that were causing her pussy lips such distress.

Master stepped forward.

Simone took his large rock-hard cock in her mouth again.

Serviced it.

Again.

After a few minutes, Master pulled out.

He looked over to where Gretchen and I knelt, stripped down to our black stilettos.

We were in the proper posture required when we watched Master with another woman: shoulders square, back straight, chin parallel with the floor, bottom of our stilettos the only thing touching the wall.

And our palms on the inside of our thighs, creating a framed look for our pussies.

As always, Master was terse.

“Cuffs. Cage. Corner.”

Then he headed to the kitchen.

Gretchen and I rose. We went over and helped Simone to her feet.

She sobbed when Gretchen took the clamps off. “Thank you,” she said in a sniveling voice I’m sure was never heard by her clients, colleagues, courtroom adversaries, jurors or judges.

“Master’s orders,” Gretchen said.

Just to be a bitch, I added, “He requires a cage there instead.”

Her eyes darted back and forth between Gretchen and me. “Cage? What do you mean?”

“Just come with us,” Gretchen said.

We each took an arm and led the unsteady Simone to the bedroom. From one of the drawers built into the closet a pair of handcuffs and a labia clamp — which Master considers a pussy cage because it separates the labia majora, labia minora and clitoris from each other with steel bands, effectively caging each.

Simone had no idea what it was.

I explained.

She let out a whimper.

I don’t know why I wanted to be so cruel to her, but I did. I said, “When he dominates, Master cages, all pussy that he doesn’t fuck.”

That surprised her. She said, “But …”

Gretchen explained. “Oh, he’s definitely going to fuck you. But he’s going to use your asshole not your pussy.”

I added, “Master rarely fucks the pussy of any woman in her 30s or older. It’s a simple tightness factor.”

She was stunned in the silence. Master’s cock is so big any woman without anal experience would be scared to have it in back there.

And the way she had always been in charge of everything her whole life, I doubt it she had any anal experience at all .

She shook and sobbed as we put the pussy cage on her and then cuffed her hands behind her back.

We let her to a corner of the room and had her kneel there.

As Gretchen walked away, I leaned down and whispered one more harsh truth to Simone.

“It’s even bigger than it looks. It breaks you when he has it in back there splitting you open.“

Her entire body shook as sobs wracked it