Twelve Steps To Hell

Excerpt

“You will need new quarters slave. Are you enjoying the reading material you were left?”

“Yes Mistress. The philosophy is enlightening and convincing, and the novels certainly compelling. Though they make my frustration more unbearable than it already is I can’t put them down. I’m sure your intentions in supplying me with these books are being satisfied admirably.”

“Excellent! Later you will move the bookcase upstairs to your new room. For now though just come along with me.”

“Yes Mistress.”

We proceed down a wide hallway on the second floor toward the master bedroom suite.

This is situated at the end of the hall. Two more doors stand opposite each other just before this, the one to Aiko’s rooms on the left. The other door has a heavy deadbolt on it and is clearly intended for me. Mistress slides the bolt aside, opens the door and leads me in.

Once again I’m shown an extremely Spartan space fit perhaps for a monk. The floor is bare tile and the walls are blank except a pair of windows and a few more paintings of lurid torture scenes. By far the largest of these hangs directly over the thin sleeping pad. Its macabre scene of a damned sinner bound stretched spread-eagled between forest trees while female beings of unearthly beauty and supernatural origin inventively afflict him will greet my waking sight each morning and haunt me deep into sleep at night.

The windows look out over the side yard and cannot be opened save by breaking the glass. An open door discloses bathroom fixtures similar to those downstairs if rather more elegant and expansive, and close by the sleeping area another door stands closed. Mistress Kimiko leads me to this, stops and turns to confront me.

“This door leads to my own chambers, which you will finally be allowed access to. For convenience sake it will be often left unlocked. Should I summon you, enter promptly through here. Otherwise of course you will respect my privacy absolutely.”

“Of course Mistress!”

“Good.” Mistress Kimiko gives me that sly smile that never fails to send butterflies swooping through my midsection. “Now that you’ve completed a third of my program we will be sharing far more intimacies than before slave. I am delighted and excited about this, as you no doubt are yourself. Allow me to congratulate you once again.

“Very few prospective husbands have made it past domestic service and Aiko to reach this stage, and none in nearly five years. I am looking forward to taking a more personal hand in your training very much. Yet as difficult and trying as it has no doubt been, step three was exceedingly necessary. We spoke of this before. Submitting to Aiko’s cruelty has taught you to enjoy being degraded and abused, yes?”

“Yes Mistress Kimiko.”

“That will prove essential in the future. But for now you face a far different challenge, one that will perhaps test your equilibrium – and my own self-discipline — considerably. Come with me now into my private rooms.”

…Supremely at ease in the midst of all this staggering luxury, Mistress Kimiko leads me up to where she kneels gracefully and turns a gold-plated handle, starting that gigantic tub filling from over a dozen equidistantly placed spigots. Judging by the bubbles and fragrance rising with the water level soap and aromatic bath oils are added automatically. As she rises Mistress turns back to me wearing a wider smile than I’ve ever seen on her, and one filled with seductive promise as well as slightly cruel amusement.

“In step four, slave, we move on from domestic to personal service. To begin with, that involves bathing me every day. I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”

To my eye-popping amazement and utter disbelief, Mistress Kimiko frees the sash on her kimono. She shrugs this off her shoulders and lets it drop to the floor behind her, dramatically revealing her entire naked body to me. If the sight of little Aiko naked less than two weeks ago took my breath away, this spectacular cynosure seems fit to burn my eyes right out of my head. Surely no mortal was meant to gaze upon such heavenly beauty and live.

In a mansion and surrounding grounds featuring millions of dollars worth of mankind’s finest artistic achievements, and an overabundance of nature’s loveliest creations, my future wife surpasses all these in enchanting wondrousness like the celestial stars do the base diamonds of the Earth. My jaw sags open in astonishment and my cock strives to split its steel sleeve as I try to take in each exemplary feature in succession, rather than risk being driven into insanity by the overwhelming gestalt of the whole.

As impossibly unblemished as that of Aiko, Mistress Kimiko’s skin is pure vanilla ice cream compared to the freshly churned butter of her maid. And as slender yet even more finely developed than Aiko’s limbs, Mistress Kimiko’s arms and legs are so proportionately longer that she seems to loom to more than twice the four or so inches of greater height than she actually has on me. Her trim torso is elongated as well, mediating wonderfully between the matchless curves of her hips and breasts. Of course the former contours are more gradual and less convex than those of petite Aiko but no less perfect for that: a cello rather than a lyre but making for the same sublime visual music. And as for the latter! Such bounty and succulence, such symmetry and up-thrust, such spherical perfection can barely be credited.

So large and dark, so aggressively pointy and pebbly, the nipples alone make my mouth water, my palms itch, my heart pound and my poor squeezed penis wail with torment as I worshipfully behold them. Yet my palms would be overfilled, my mouth desiccated with intimidation, my heart driven to coronary and my prick to instant ejaculation should I ever be granted unfettered access to such incomparably fabulous treasures of flesh. Or so it seems to me at least, more than ninety days without an orgasm and suddenly confronted with the epitome of divine femininity in such indisputably real proximity. Unable to bear looking further at those magnificently upswept tits – much less drop my gaze to the delta of Venus I already know to be unbearably exquisite – I at last wrench my attention to the more familiar if no less glorious loveliness of Mistress Kimiko’s face.

She looks more fox-like than ever as she cleverly regards me. As if my reaction to her nudity was the elixir of life itself, the only sustenance she needs and which she has deliberately provoked me into providing, she drinks this in with both avidity and patience, intent to savor it to the last. Then she moves to squeeze even more from me.

“How long have you waited for this moment slave?”

“My entire life Mistress. I just didn’t know it until several months ago.”

“And how do you feel now?”

“I feel like a sinner at the gates of paradise, denied entry by divine edict. Like a man dying of thirst in an infinite desert beholding an endless spring, certain it will evaporate into a mirage the moment I attempt to touch it.”

“Well slave, soon you will be wallowing orgiastically in that spring. And still you will be unable to drink. How does that make you feel?”

“Equally exalted and tormented Mistress. It seems from Sisyphus last month I am about to become Tantalus. For such a heavenly goddess you have all the torments of Hades at your command. Still I would trade this damnation for no other fate if it means I get to spend eternity with you in any capacity.”

Mistress Kimiko laughs delightedly, a keen sexual excitement of her own evident in the flushing of her skin, the contraction of her nipples and the sparkle in her eyes.

“You are simply priceless slave! Such a honeyed tongue, such eager servility, and such determined dedication despite desperate deprivation! Who said you had a self-discipline deficit? All it took to cure that was to lock up your cock. How lucky for me that Dorothy never considered that expedient! Truly I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this month myself. It’s been nearly five years since I’ve had a man’s hands on me. Come then, let us bathe in that endless spring you mentioned, even if it’s only my bathtub in fact.”

Mistress turns and slips into the foaming, churning water.

This rises to high on her thighs, and wisps of steam drifting from its surface surround her, as do dozens of silvery soap bubbles floating through the air. Moaning helplessly in anticipation of that sublime exaltation and terrible torment I mentioned I follow her in, hissing painfully at the touch of that very hot water, which just covers my straining genitals. Mistress Kimiko immerses herself to the neck and then stands up again, her alabaster skin gleaming with the thin film of water, soap, and bath oils that now sheathes it. She points to a squeeze bottle of more liquid soap standing on the edge of the tub by a collection of washcloths, sponges, and loofahs.

“Bring the soap slave.”

“Yes Mistress. Do you wish a sponge?”

“Did I ask for one?”

“No Mistress.”

“Then I do not. Do you have some objection to bathing me bare-handed?”

“Of course not Mistress. Such an honor seems far above me. But I will accept it with limitless gratitude and blessedness.”

I bring the soap over to Mistress Kimiko. With each step closer to her my heart swells with adoration, my cock tries harder to do likewise and my excitement grows more unbearably intense. At last we stand about eighteen inches apart, and she smiles down at me with a palpable excitement and delight of her own.

“Now slave,” she husks seductively at me, “Squirt a generous amount of that pearly liquid into your hands. Then wash my entire upper body, finishing with my breasts. And do take your time about it. We have all day here after all.”

The sexual subtext of Mistress’ words isn’t lost on me, and when I squeeze out a palm-full of soap it does look rather like semen. I close the bottle, drop it to float next to us and transfer half the soap to my other hand. Then with my heart throbbing in two places I reach up and begin smearing it on Mistress Kimiko’s neck and shoulders. Slowly I work up a rich lather and begin to carefully scrub her with both hands. From her neck and shoulders I work my way down each arm, and then her back, pausing occasionally to add more soap. I cleanse her flanks and belly, cupping water in my palms to rinse off each area as it’s finished. Finally only those incomparable breasts remain. As I retrieve the soap Mistress arches her back a bit, thrusting these out even further from her slender torso.

“Squirt it right onto me slave,” she orders.

My hands trembling I do as directed, spurting pearly gobs and drops and streams of soap from the nozzle of the bottle all over those magnificent tits in a such an obvious simulation of ejaculation that I can’t help but whimper in distress. Then burning with such maddening lust that I can’t believe I don’t just spontaneously combust I fill my hands with Mistress’ breasts and begin lovingly smearing and soaping them.

Mistress arches her back further, pushing them more firmly into my palms. She shifts closer to me, until we’re face to face less than a foot apart. Water, soap, and bath oil render her skin exquisitely slippery, and the way my hands slide frictionlessly over and around those firm springy rounds is heaven and hell all at once. Nevertheless I take my time as directed, cupping and lifting them up to scrub redundantly at their undersides, getting deep into the delightful crevice where they connect to her chest before rubbing my hands back all over the rest of those smooth slick spheres, the big stiff nipples sending shudders through me as they scrape against my fingers and palms. Soon I’m emitting a tortured keening as I bathe her, and Mistress herself shudders with excitement. Whether this is a reaction to my touch, her usual sadistic arousal at seeing me suffering with stymied lust or both is irrelevant. Shifting even closer, she inclines her head to place a second-ever kiss on the top of my shaved skull and husks down at me, her breathing nearly as heavy as my own.

“Don’t stop slave!”

Her right hand slips under the water to find my caged and raging genitals. As I continue to soap and stroke and even squeeze those big slippery boobs Mistress Kimiko palms my balls, rubbing, tugging, and gently squeezing herself. Then her fingers find the bloated, protruding head of my penis and begin to worry it mercilessly.

The soapy, oily water renders the contact just as frictionless, and finally I sob helplessly at that insanely intense stimulation. Still Mistress pulls and pinches it, then cups the nerve-packed tip in her palm and rubs it with a circular motion that makes me gasp and cry out and hang onto her breasts for sheer life as my knees go weak beneath me.

“Yes my little slave, you are extremely excited now,” she gloats. “Have you ever been even close to this excited in your life? Have you ever been more desperate to stick your hard penis into a hot wet pussy, a hungrily sucking mouth, an amazingly tight asshole, or maybe pump it between a pair of big, slippery breasts like the ones in your hands? Lacking that, have you ever wanted to grip it in your fist and jerk it off more?”

“No Mistress, I never have!” I wail. I feel as if my sanity is indeed teetering in the balance as she expertly works me.

“Well you cannot!” Mistress hisses with supremely sadistic satisfaction. “I forbid these pleasures to you! You may not even get erect. This penis belongs to me, and I prefer to keep it securely locked away at all times. You are so much more arousing to me in your futile lustful suffering. And in this relationship my arousal is the only thing that matters to you. Now, rinse off my breasts for me and then wash my buttocks. But keep your hands off my pussy for the time being. I might go off like a rocket at the first touch and that would be woefully premature.”

At last Mistress Kimiko stops stimulating my penis. Leaving me squirming and whimpering and truly on the brink of madness she still looms over me in all her breathtaking perfection. Shuddering with reaction I force down the panic threatening to overwhelm me and pull myself together enough to do as ordered.

I rinse off Mistress’ breasts until they once again gleam whitely at me. The contrast of this with the dark brown of her dripping nipples once again stirs me to a near frenzy and yet somehow I proceed to the next step. I take another two palms full of soap and lather and scrub the almost equally firm-but-yielding and wildly enticing rounds of her ass. I reach around either side of her to do this, so that I’m practically embracing her. With our naked bodies barely inches apart and Mistress Kimiko’s erect nipples almost grazing my clavicles I can feel her breath on the top of my head and sense her smile of smug sovereignty over me. Carefully I use two fingers to gently scrub her bung and then splash rinse water over her. Before I can step back then Mistress places another kiss just above my brow, this one of affectionate approval.

“Well done, slave. I’m so glad I claimed you. It’s so long since I’ve been bathed by anyone but myself or Aiko that I’d almost forgotten how wonderfully rewarding it can be to have a reluctant eunuch do it. Come over here now and let’s see to my other half. I know your training in sexual service doesn’t begin until next month. But I have an absolute certainty that you will be providing me with simply splendid orgasms long before that, both within minutes and on every other morning from now until basically forever.”

Leaving me agog at the prospect of doing this every day for the rest of my life Mistress Kimiko moves to the end of the tub. There a kind of submerged seat has been carved for her to lounge upon. She slouches comfortably on this, with just her head, shoulders, and the upper slopes of her breasts above the churning bath. Sweating considerably (and not just from the heat of the water and the sauna-like atmosphere) I collect the soap and join her. Smiling regally upon me my victorious beauty lifts one long, elegantly slender leg out of the water toward me.

“You may start at the toes slave, and work your way up.”