Part One - The Society of the Golden Rose
There is a secret society in Houston, Texas. Shrouded in mystery, decadent, sexual and private, it’s the sort of organization you’ve always suspected existed, but never had proof. It stays almost completely in the shadows, and its membership is exclusive. You have to know someone, the right someone, to even be considered as a potential candidate. The requirements alone are dizzying. You must be beautiful. Beauty is a power all on its own. You must be wealthy. The dues are more than I make in a year. And you must be powerful; commanding and dominant. This, perhaps more than anything else, is important.
In the end you are left with a dozen of the most beautiful, most wealthy, most powerful women in the Houston Metropolitan area. Oh, and all of them have a penchant for sadism and lesbian sex.
Complicating matters is that each member of the society must have their own submissive. A girl who has willingly accepted her role as a plaything; a sex object, an obedient toy: to be coddled, cherished, used, punished, and dominated. The dommes each have a gold ring that they wear on their finger bearing the crest of the society: a golden rose. The submissives wear the sigil as well, but not on the finger. Mine, just like all the other submissives, is worn hanging from the right nipple, on a charm sized padlock, dangling from a gold ring piercing the pink tip. The sigil is a rose, enameled in black, with gold petals, because that’s what the society is called: the Golden Rose. It is by invitation only. If you (and your submissive) are ever invited to a meeting - well, be prepared. You should know what you are getting into.
Meetings all start the same way. There's a table, beautifully decorated, laid out with a scrumptious assortment of tasty goodies. My mistress, a thin, energetic woman in her early twenties, is named Julie. She is always good to me, selecting an assortment of finger foods that I can barely see from my usual vantage point; kneeling at her feet. I am not permitted to stand, at least not unless I’m to be bound by the hands for a whipping or some other torment. The thick, shag carpet under my hands and knees makes crawling physically easier, but does nothing for the emotional toll. Julie is wearing a pretty, little black dress that emphasizes her sexual dominance whilst I am naked. Well… mostly naked. There are black leather bondage cuffs around my wrists and ankles. As I crawl along behind Mistress Julie, the small padlock dangles from my right breast, another humiliating reminder of my submission.
Once we’ve gotten the food it is time to socialize. After all, it is a society. Despite my position as a bottom, I know that these women help each other, promoting, advising, and networking. They are friends and associates. I crawl after my mistress, away from the food and toward one of the various "stations" that have been set up in the huge meeting room. I am not the only naked, bondage cuffed submissive and it is something of a relief.
Each station consists of a variety of seating options; armchairs, settees, even a few love seats. These are each clustered around some sort of sexual torture device. I use the term “torture” loosely. We are not talking thumbscrews, or the putting out of eyes. I use the term in context of Bondage, Discipline, Sadism, and Masochism. There is pain, yes. But much pleasure too.
At one station sits a wooden pony, slick and stable, already being ridden by an amazon of a woman. Her name is Morgan. Her skin is black. She is oiled. Her breasts are huge, making her look top-heavy, though there is not an ounce of fat anywhere on her body. My eyes are pulled to her hips, where she is already grinding her beautiful, shaved sex against the wooden edge. Her calves are tight as she raises up on tiptoe, to spare herself the pain. I smile. I like Morgan. The gold padlock on her right breast, just like mine, rises and falls deliciously.
Her mistress, a gorgeous woman, also dark of color, though not quite as black as Morgan, is named Haley Opada. Mistress Haley sits graciously on a nearby chair, eating and watching as Morgan rides the edged wood. She is wearing black leather chaps and a matching bustier, and I blush rosily as I realize she is wearing nothing else; her pink petals are exposed and wet. She notices Julie and waves and my mistress walks that way.
“You look apprehensive, Julie. Come, sit with me,” urges Mistress Haley. Julie smiles and goes to sit. I look at my Mistress. She is smiling, but Haley is right. There is something on Julie’s mind. It is inappropriate though, for me to ask now. Here. Perhaps later I will be given the opportunity.
There is a greeting between the two dominants; kisses to the cheek. I am expected to show deference; as well as submission, to Mistress Haley. Normally this is done by presenting myself and this time is no different. I rise up, fingers laced behind my head, eyes averted, breasts pushed forward, knees as wide apart as I can make them. Haley sees me, reaches down and grabs hold of my left nipple, giving the hoop piercing there a small twist. It hurts, but only a little, and then she beckons to Julie down. I move to my mistress’ side, kneeling, watching as Morgan struggles to keep her thick labia off the wooden edge.
I watch Morgan ride the pony and think that could be me.
Morgan is beautiful and the two mistresses converse. It is shop talk. Both Haley and Julie are in marketing and frankly, the topic bores me. Still, Julie seems tense and the conversation forced. I do not particularly care. I am more interested in what Morgan is doing. Not how she is doing though, but what she is doing. Morgan goes up and down, straining. I get glimpses of her perfect pussy; the bright pink inner petals highlighted by the darkness of her labia. I wonder, if I got close enough, would I be able to see the bruises on her sex? The marks of the sharpened edge of wood that bites into her pussy? Her calves tremble and she is up on tippy toe. I am transfixed, watching Morgan’s body strain. I lick my lips, aware that my own sex is wet and wanting. I imagine myself up on the pony, the oiled edge biting into my slit, pinching my clitoris as I struggle to lift myself just one more time.
We are joined by another mistress and her submissive. My pulse goes up slightly. The dominant’s name is Sara, the other redhead in the Society of the Golden Rose besides myself. She is in her mid-fifties, elegant, busty, and precise. She is not into marketing, but law. Her own sub, a twenty something blonde with long, braided, brown hair, and star like splotches on her skin, who is kneeling beside Mistress Sara, gives me a wicked looking smile. She too is wearing nothing but bondage cuffs. And the padlock. We all wear that little padlock through the ring on our nipple. Her name is Alissa.
Alissa’s breasts are marked. There are half a dozen half-healed welts across them; a road map drawn with a whip between two raised points. I stare at the scarlet lines, wondering how it felt to get them. I have a sudden urge to run my tongue across Alissa’s chest, following the welts from one nipple to another. As Mistress Sara greets Julie and Haley, Alissa crawls over to me. Had Morgan not been riding, I would have greeted her in the same way Alissa and I do just then. We both spread our knees, lean close to each other, and kiss. It is a deep, wet kiss, our tongues entwining. Our hands drop down to each other and I feel her wet softness as she feels mine. Our tongues swirl and suddenly I am lost in the sensation, the sexual need. Her finger slides into me, a welcome penetration that makes my pussy tighten in desperation. I want to drag Alissa down onto the carpet and thrust my tongue into her slit. I want to wrap myself around her, to force her mouth between my legs. Alissa and I are close. My thumb grazes her clit and hers mine. But both of us know this is not good. Cumming without permission? We would both be punished. So we let go, hearts pounding, pulling our soaked fingers out of each other. Alissa’s eyes sparkle and her smile is huge. I resist the urge to greet her again and instead lick my finger clean. She tastes like strawberries and cream. I lean back against Julie’s leg and look back at Morgan bouncing on the pony. I need the support. I want too much.
“Are you up for this?” Sara asks Julie. My mistress nods, smiling. But she glances down at me. She is uneasy. I give her a questioning glance.
At Mistress Sara’s direction, Alissa greets Julie and Haley. It is simple; the presentation. A kiss to each foot, though I can Alissa looking at Mistress Haley’s wet pussy. There is a look in Alissa’s eye; a desire. But neither mistress recognizes it. Or so I think. Then Sara sits, her plate in hand, and Alissa goes to her. Sara begins feeding Alissa bite sized morsels. Alissa is like a puppy, kneeling there, eating daintily from Sara’s hand. It reminds Julie that she needs to feed me as well, but my mistress wants me to pay for my food. Either that, or she thinks I need an appetizer.
“Ask Mistress Haley if you may be permitted to lick her pussy for one minute, in order to get a treat.”
There is a chuckle of laughter and Haley spreads her legs, leaning back in the chair. “Of course she can, darling.” The exposed slit between the chaps begs for my tongue.
I turn to Mistress Haley. “May I please lick your pussy for one minute, Mistress?”
Haley laughs. “You may lick for as long as your mistress allows it,” she assures me. I crawl closer. I know Morgan will not mind. The mistresses share us during meetings. And even outside of meetings. That is the way of things. So I dip my tongue into Haley, tasting her slit, licking it up and down, pressing my nose to her clit. She arches her back, slouching in the chair to give me better access. I make it my goal to try and get her to cum, so I am energetic, engaged, and eager. I hear her moan as I suck and swirl my tongue over her clitoris, my hands curling up under her bottom to hold her sex to my face. I wonder if Alissa is jealous.
A minute passes, and another. I hear Sara and Julie talking. Inconsequentials. A critique of my pussy licking technique. The taste of the horderves. The curvature of my bottom. Mistress Haley is the only one that matters to me though and from her grinding hips, the way her fingers entwine in my hair, holding me to her slit, I know she is close. She gasps, crying out just a little, her toes curling, and I feel a surge of wetness on my face. She is cumming and I drink her down, sucking on her clit.
She pushes me away, panting, and closes her legs. I have fallen back, but I know I've done well, and I get back on my knees and go to Julie for my reward. I do not dare wipe Mistress Haley's cum from my face. A piece of strawberry, lightly dusted with sugar, is placed in my open mouth and I accept it.
Haley, clearly satisfied, orders Morgan down from the wooden pony and tells her to greet us. Morgan groans as she dismounts and goes to me first. Her kiss is aggressive, wanton, her fingers curling in my pussy as we rub against each other. I am more careful as I touch her sex, knowing she will be sore from riding the sharp, wooden edge. The kiss is almost too long and sensual. She seems to be devouring me. My pussy tightens around her groping fingers as I realize she wants her mistress' cum from off my lips. Haley breaks us apart and then it is Alissa's turn. Morgan is gentler with Alissa.
Food and talk. Mistress Savannah arrives, a Southern belle blonde, dressed in a blue silk blouse and white capris. The shirt is daring, the front open so that her large, soft breasts are almost falling out. The capris are so thin that I can see the royal blue thong she has on underneath. Her submissive is a lithe, nubile girl named Kylie, her short pixie cut making her look elfin. Kylie's bondage cuffs are pink, but just as rugged as mine, which are the regular black leather. Kylie’s right breast has the gold padlock hanging from the tip. She goes to Morgan first and I watch the kiss, the hands slipping between open thighs; hot, wet, slippery slits touched and opened. My own sex, empty and desperate, trembles in anticipation. Finally Kylie gets to me. Our tongues touch, but it is her fingers I crave. They slip into me as I find her own wetness, and for a moment I am lost in sapphic bliss, bodies rubbing against each other. Again, our mistresses separate us before we are driven too close to the edge.
Julie makes another trip to the buffet table with me in tow, crawling along behind her. This time we go elsewhere. Another station. To socialize. This one has a sybian in the center, but it is empty. Mistress Amanda sits with her sub Gwendolyn, a tiny burst of a woman, who is eating. When I kiss her, Gwen tastes like chocolate, but she is not as wet as I am. Her padlock seems large, though it is the same size as mine. From the other seat, Mistress Lucille glowers at me. She doesn't like me. Or maybe she does. I am not certain. She, more than anyone else, asks for me. But she is a cruel mistress and I have suffered under her hands. Bethany, Mistress Lucille’s submissive, kisses me hungrily. She pushes two full fingers into my sex as we greet each other, instead of the regular single digit. She pumps at my cunt frantically as well. I practically melt as she fingerfucks me and it is only after Julie separates us that I realize Bethany was trying to work me into an unauthorized orgasm, knowing I'd be punished.
Bitch.
There are more greetings. Kisses. Fingerings. We do the rounds. More stations. Mistress Lisa and her submissive Wendy greet Julie and I with soft caresses. Mistress Margaret kisses Julie on the cheek while her puppy girl Lisa, whose bottom is stuffed with a tail plug, wagging happily, licks my face, knocks me over, and then presses her nose to my clit, licking frantically. Lisa is wearing a collar and Mistress Margaret pulls her off me with a sheepish apology to Julie. I am left panting, legs spread, on my back, desperate for more. Brooke, Mistress Jillian’s sub comes up to me, sliding a finger into my pussy, only to lean over me and kiss me on the lips. I am flushed. Feverish. I just want to cum. My heart pounds. Wet and warm and soft. I moan. Everyone wants to make me cum. Mistress Charlotte, with her sub Tiffany at her feet, asks Julie for permission to spank me, because my bottom is too white. Julie agrees and I'm hauled across a lap and swatted until my rump is hot and stinging. Charlotte jams her fingers in my cunt, wriggling them around. I whimper, but I love it, almost creaming. I resist the urge to beg for permission, because I know Julie will deny me.
An hour passes as we move from clique to clique. I am penetrated repeatedly, driven almost insane as I am shared more than any other submissive. Fingers, tongues, even a few dildos are pressed into my slit. But never enough. A thrust here. One there. I am the flavor of the month, or perhaps Julie is being extra generous as Mistress Brooke asks to put a peg zipline on me. Julie agrees easily and the clothespins bite at my padlocked and pierced nipples, my clit, my labia, then up my torso and around my breasts. I am ordered to stand, hands behind my head, legs spread obscenely wide, and close my eyes. I lift up, onto tiptoe, and Brooke’s submissive, a waif of a girl named Kaitlyn, is given spike plates to push under my heels and arch. I don't dare drop down. A minute passes, then another. My calves tire. My toes ache. My nipples and clit are throbbing from the pressure of the pegs. A trickle of wetness, leaking from my sex, is driving me crazy as it slides down my inner thigh.
Pain. Stinging, hurting pain. The wooden pegs are ripped off my body. I shudder, gasping, my fingers come free as my body struggles to cope with the burn, but I remember myself in time. Something sharp digs into the arch of my left foot and it hurts enough to lift me back up. Julie swirls in front of me, her short dress flaring around her waist. She isn't wearing panties. I realize she has a flogger and she swings it at my breasts.
The beating is quick and light, leaving me breathless and even more aroused. The tips of my breasts tingle and my petals have been stung, but this is just a warm up. Julie pulls me off the spike plates and pushes me back to the floor. My pussy is gaping wide, desperate for more attention, and I wiggle my hips, my bottom, trying to entice someone into driving something thick and hard into me. Mistress Lisa arrives, dark haired and wearing a simple summer dress. Her submissive is Georgia, a Thai girl who is a yoga instructor. I know she wears simple and tight clothes to work. I wonder how she explains the one pierced nipple, or the tiny, charm sized padlock we all are required to wear.
I rise up to meet her and Georgia's kiss is soft, as are her fingers. She is the only one who isn't trying to make me cum, but she is the one that does. I press against her, desperate. She is surprised, but her thumb grazes my clit and I cry out, shuddering as her fingers slide inside me. I grip her shoulders, shaking with pleasure, with joy. Julie, and Lisa, and Brittany, and Charlotte watch with satisfaction as I break the rules. I cum without permission. I am a toy for their pleasure.
I sigh as Georgia looks sadly at me, sorry that she was the one who pushed me over the edge, but I smile at her. It isn't her fault. It's mine. This is the way I am. I am too ready. Too needy. Too wanton. I am a nympho humiliation pain slut craving each touch. Each sensation. Each moment.
Julie leads me back to where we started. Alissa is riding the wooden pony now, Mistress Sara watching with intensity as the little body of her submissive struggles to stay above the sharp, wooden edge. Morgan is on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, her breasts bound with red electrical tape, making them bulge obscenely, while Kylie is pushing a double ended dildo into Morgan's pussy with her own, dripping snatch. I realize they aren't allowed to use their hands. An almost impossible task. Cruel, but exactly the kind of sexual torment preferred by the mistresses this early in the evening. It is unlikely that Morgan and Kylie will be able to work themselves into orgasm like that. It is only fucksluts like me who can’t obey the rules. Julie sits to watch and I am given more to eat. I am still wet, but sated for the moment and I rest my head against my mistress' knee, knowing that my punishment is pending.
Everyone has arrived. It is time to start. The matron, a gorgeous, dark haired mistress named Isobel, stands in the center of the room. She looks like a young Caroline Munro, with olive colored skin and a Mediterranean look. She too wears a sexy, black dress, along with black boots. She claps her hands, drawing attention. Her submissive, a pretty little brunette named Madeline, in a revealing, yet delightful "little French maid's" outfit, kneels by her side. The bodice is non-existent, her breasts cushioned on white frill, the gold hoop piercing and padlock dangling in full view.
"Ladies, it is time to begin."
A circle of padded chairs sits in the center of the room. I crawl behind Julie, a sense of excitement, but also dread infusing me. It is punishment time. Each mistress has the opportunity to detail violations since the last meeting. Suggested punishments are offered, and a vote follows. Not many of the mistresses opt for this, but Julie enjoys humiliating me in this manner, and almost always puts me in the center of the circle. I am undoubtedly punished more than any other submissive of the Society. She likes having me punished. This month Breanne had this many unauthorized orgasms. Breanne didn't remove her clothing when driving on such and such dates. Breanne was only supposed to edge that morning, and instead exploded like a bomb. Breanne didn't lick enough pussy that afternoon.
Oh. And Breanne just had an unauthorized orgasm.
However, it is Alissa who is brought forward first. She asked to be spared from NHPS Rule #1 at work one day. I am familiar with this rule. It states that a nympho humiliation pain slut must be stuffed with cock at all times. But this is a lesbian society. Allowances must be made. So instead we are to keep toys inside us. At least, those of us that are made to follow the rule. Mistress Sara granted the stay, but now Alissa must pay. Vicious and cruel Lucille suggests the stocks, heavy weights clipped Alissa's breasts, and a twenty stroke paddling. Savannah recommends a clamp on Alissa’s clit for the remainder of the night, along with a vibrating plug in her ass. Mistress Charlotte, knowing Sara's fondness for the soft, full pleasure of Alissa's breasts, suggests a tack mat, followed by a ten stroke paddling, ending with ten cuts of a switch across the chest.
Alissa gulps, her face flushed. The mistresses vote, though it is Sara who has the final decision. It is close. Almost half want Alissa in stocks. But it is the tack mat, paddling, and switch that wins. While Madeline goes to fetch the necessary tools, Alissa choses which Mistress will paddle her, and who gets to swing the switch. It is simple. She hands the paddle to my mistress, Julie. The switch goes to her own, Sara. That is a gesture of love and trust. A stool is placed in front of the brown haired waif. The tack mat goes on the stool. I watch, kneeling, knees spread, pussy wet and waiting, as Alissa gently lays her breasts down, grimacing as the sharp plastic spikes dig into her soft, already welted globes. She holds the stool. There are hand grips. Julie rises and steps up to the submissive that is not me. She swings the paddle hard, driving Alissa forward and down. The girl gasps, crying out. For a second I stare at her smacked bottom. The coloring spreads quickly, flushing red. Julie spanks her again. Hard. Dark red blotches. Alissa is squirming. I know it hurts. I shift sympathetically. The sound of the paddle is visceral, and I feel each stroke reverberating through me. My pussy clenches each time Alissa's bottom quivers with pain, her tender breasts digging down into the spikes, her little bare feet kicking.
Sara repositions the stool behind Alissa, who remains on her knees, thighs spread wide, her pussy wet and exposed. She leans back, placing her hands on the stool behind her, presenting her breasts. Sara swings the switch, testing its flexibility, its freshness. I know Madeline cuts them right before the meeting. Sara places the thin branch against Alissa’s breasts. They are spotted with tiny red dots from the tack mat. They look… tender. I suppress a little surge of jealousy.
Alissa grits her teeth, a yelp of pain squeezing through her tightly pressed lips as the narrow cane bites in deep. Both breasts are mashed, a line drawn perfectly across both nipples. Sara is an expert, timing her strokes and aiming for unmarked spots with each successive swing. The last blow is the one that draws a tear from Alissa and Mistress Sara falls to her knees, scooping up Alissa, holding her tight. I watch as Alissa lets out a sob, more from tension than pain, and melts in Sara's arms. Together they go back to Sara’s seat and Alissa is comforted.
No one else has been bad. Julie waits only a second. Then it is my turn.
I am ordered into the center of the circle while Julie enumerates my failures for the month. There are multiple, yet incidental violations of the NHPS Rules. Not specifically deliberate, but circumstantial. A medical out during an assignment. Failing to drive naked while alone. Not sucking enough cock on a certain day. Not licking enough pussy. Not offering my slit up for a sapping quick enough. Not cumming when I’m supposed to. Cumming when I shouldn’t.
The debate over my punishment becomes terrifying.
Lucille wants me to ride the wooden pony for an hour, the oiled wooden edge biting into my pussy while my nipples are clamped and vibrated, followed by a full body whipping, finished with a series of forced orgasms to be drawn from me via use of vibrators and the leather sap. Mistress Savannah suggests that my bottom, breasts, soles of my feet, and clit are all soundly whacked with a crop, followed by my being forced to lick every mistress to orgasm once. Mistress Amanda suggests that I be bound for the remainder of the meeting, in one of the restraint chairs, with my feet, breasts, and pussy exposed for any mistress to punish. Cumming prohibited.
Part Two will be out tomorrow...
Breanne Erickson has been writing erotica for almost ten years, with over twenty novel length works to her name. If you've enjoyed this, or any of her tales, please support her by purchasing her works from Amazon.com, leaving reviews, or spreading the word on BDSM forums about her writings!
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