A vague recollectionof what it was like to be able to cum, to have an orgasm, exists in theback of my mind, but it gets weaker and weaker every day. B...ing the man's torture and fuck puppet must be my function in life. Ican't remember a time when it wasn't so, so he must be right in treatingme like this. I still scream and beg and the pain and humiliation isstill intense, but this must be my purpose; to be the man's property, todo with as he sees fit, no matter how painful or demeaning it is to. It looked a little like a waitress's outfit, possibly a maid's uniform. It had short cap sleeves, a deep plunging square neckline edged in white lace, the front section was held up with large buttons which when undone, would drop the front of the dress to expose my breasts. The skirt had three internal petticoats of white cotton lace that helped it flare out and it looked short. I couldn't wait to put it on.'Anything wrong?'I spun round. I hadn't heard Mistress Megan come in. She was standing. More

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