After an appetising lunch, Aunty Pat and Anita Armitage, her deputy-in-discipline, left to get kitted out in different outfits, which I realized was part of their penchant for always looking ravishing for their sex slave.

My aunt instructed me to return to the games room while they were getting outfitted and to await their return. I was in the “slave position”, kneeling in the middle of the chamber when the domination duo returned.

Aunty Pat had chosen a lustrous black PVC top which covered her shoulders and breasts, heaving the 40-inch glories into stunning uplift, the nipples sticking out in the shiny material. On her arms were black, elbow-length PVC gloves. She went bare-crotched but her legs were encased in gleaming black leather boots which came half-way up her thighs.

Anita was also cock-arousingly dressed. On her short-cropped brown hair sat a jaunty little black Muir cap, an open fronted red PVC brassiere thrust her 34-inch breasts forward enticingly and a red satin garter belt held up shiny black stockings. Red high heels completed her erotic outfit.

I wanted to fuck both of them!

Aunty smiled and held out her hand to get me to stand. “Now my dear,” she announced, “it's time to teach you pose flogging. You're going to do the posing, we're going to do the flogging. Won't that be fun?”

I wasn’t too sure of that, but like the obedient slave I had become I replied “Yes, aunty.” Then I couldn’t restrain myself and longer and blurted out: “But there's something I want to say.“

Aunty looked me directly in the eyes and nodded: “Say away!”

“I want to fuck you, aunty,” I said, as fervently as I could.

Aunty Pat frowned. “Oh dear, ‘Nita, it looks like we've got a problem here.”

Then she looked sternly at me. “Look, Rick, we're training you to be a sex slave and that's our number one priority now. We can discuss this 'fucking' business later.”

Then she smiled at her friend: “Rick here is obviously having a problem with this.” And with that she stroked my eight-inch hard-on.

“I think perhaps the open-fronted posing pouch might help him with his problem.” Anita grinned mischievously at my aunt, who then told her: “Fit it for him, there's a darling, while I fetch the gear for his pose flogging.”

Anita went to a drawer in a table along one wall of the dungeon and returned holding a little rubber pouch with a sturdy leather strap attached. Pulling the opening of the rubber garment, she fitted it around my scrotum, then let go and it snapped into place, gathering my balls in its tight grip. As Anita adjusted the strap tightly around the base of my cock I felt hundreds of little pricks starting to inflict themselves on my balls.

Aunty Pat returned carrying a cat o' nine tails and a metal rod like a golf club, only with leather grips at each end. She surveyed Anita's handiwork and smiled at me: “There, that should help drive those lustful thoughts from your naughty mind, my dear. Wasn't that nice of Anita?”

I gulped. “Nice” wasn't the word I had in mind. “Yes, aunty,” I answered.

Aunty nodded her agreement. “Yes, it was so nice, I think you should give her a nice long kiss to say thank-you.”

It wasn't an observation, I realized, it was a command, so I stepped over to the lovely raven-haired lady and went to kiss her on the mouth. Both Anita and Aunty Pat roared with laughter.

“No, no, no, Rick,” said my aunt. “Down here in the games room ‘a nice long kiss’ is a euphemism for cunnilingus.”

And I looked at Anita who was pointing at her pussy. I went down on my knees, said “Thank-you, Miss Anita” and started to kiss her pussy lips, an action which only served to keep my prick stiff and add to my pain from the punishment pouch.

After a minute or so, Aunty Pat tapped me on the shoulder and said: “That's enough, Rick, no need to make a meal of it!” I stood and faced my buxom aunt.

“Here,” she said, “take this”, and thrust the metal bar into my hands. It was about four feet long.

“This bar will remain in your hands throughout the session,” Aunty Pat explained. “Now in a pose flogging there are three positions, and you will be ordered to adopt them on the command 'Position 1' and so on.” I nodded.

“The first pose is on tip toe,” explained by dominatrix-aunt. “Raise the bar above your head, arms fully extended and spread your feet about a yard apart - that'll help with your balance.”

I did as I was told, feeling the strain on my calves and thighs as I assumed the position.

“That's the pose,” said Aunty Pat, “now all we need is the flogging.” And with that she traced the cat down my back, from shoulders to buttocks.

The thongs felt cool on my naked flesh. “It's a rubber flogger,” Aunty Pat explained, “which means it won't break the skin and it won't be too painful - just a light stinging.” And then she flicked the flogger between my spread thighs, the tips of the lashes curling around my rubber-cover balls.

I let out an involuntary “Oooouch” and earned a reprimand from Miss Anita: “No, Rick, it's 'One, thank-you Aunty Pat'.”

“Sorry,” I apologised, “one, thank-you Aunty Pat.” The words were hardly out of my mouth than the second stroke stung home across my shoulder blades. I counted properly. Then a third cut into my buttocks.

Every now and again the blow was of such force that I was forced to teeter forward on tip toe. Already the strain on my legs was starting to tell. I was sweating freely.

After 10 strokes, Aunty Pat halted and handed the cat to Anita. “Take him through position two, darling,” she instructed and made herself comfortable on an easy chair to watch the second segment of the flogging.

Miss Anita stepped beside my straining body and said: “Right, slave, feet a yard apart, then bend over until your hands are grazing the carpet.” I bent over, my back towards Aunty Pat, and presented my buttocks in what I thought would be a perfect flogging position.

Just then, there was a knock on the door to the chamber.

“That'll be the girls,” said Aunty Pat, “I told them I'd let them watch Rick's training if they finished their chores early.” And with that she walked over to the door and let the two Latin ladies, Pepina and Conchita, into the room.

As they crossed the floor of the games room to be seated on the couch directly behind my back, I noticed that both had removed their black leather shorts and were now clad only in black leather g-strings and black high heels. Their small breasts with the cherry red nipples erect, were bare.

As Pepina and Conchita settled down on the couch, Miss Anita drew her arm back and flogged the cat down across my tautened buttocks. She continued the punishment for 10 strokes, then was instructed by Aunty Pat: “Move on to position number three, now ‘Nita!”

The gardening girls broke into applause at this. “Eees going to like this one,” one of the pair said.

“I'm sure he will,” said my aunt as Miss Anita went into command mode.

“On the floor, kneeling with your knees about a yard apart, slave,” she told me. I did so.

“Now put your feet together behind you, then place the rod behind you, lay it across the backs of your ankles and grab it.” This forced my upper torso and genitals into a completely helpless display for my dominatrix.

Miss Anita stood alluringly before me, her nipples peeping through the open-fronted PVC bra, her minge brown and inviting. Then she raised the flogger and cracked it down across my chest.

“One, thank-you Miss Anita,” I called out.

“And now this is why you're going to enjoy this position, Rick,” I heard my aunt say from her seat. Anita then moved forward and rubbed her sweet-smelling pussy across my mouth, before pulling back and delivering another blow.

“Two, thank-you, Miss Anita,” I intoned, and once more was rewarded with an aromatic pussy being rubbed over my face. This continued for 10 strokes, then Anita was replaced by my aunt.

She repeated the 10-stroke, 10 pussy lick, punishment-pleasure game and after the final stroke, I heard a voice from the couch.

“May we 'ave a go with 'eem, meestress?” Aunty Pat looked down at me and smiled. My mouth fell agape, aunty had promised to keep the lesbian gardeners away from me!

She saw my confusion, then replied: “Of course you can, girls - 10 strokes each.”

Before handing the cat o' nine tails to one of the gardeners, Aunty Pat glanced down at me: “I know I promised to keep you away from the girls, darling, but I've changed my mind, it's a woman's prerogative, you know.”

Then standing before me was a now-nude gardener - it was Conchita, she informed me. She had stripped off her g-string to reveal a very dark, slightly shaven pussy, with shocking pink piss flaps.

Her first stroke fell across my cock and balls. I bit back a shriek and cried “One, thank-you, Miss Conchita” and the Latina lowered her pussy to my mouth. It was a strongly-smelling snatch, with a mixture of sex juice, sweat and urine, all intermingled in an intense aroma.

The 10 strokes were delivered, and as Conchita handed the flogger to her gardening mate, she remarked: “Look, 'ees still 'ard - 'e likes eet, the filthy pervert!”

Pepina's pussy was a twin-sister of her colleague's, semi-shaved, dark with pinkish piss flaps. The taste, too, was strikingly similar, that triple taste of sex, sweat and piss, and I was both thrilled and disgusted to feel that throughout the 10-stroke punishment, my penis retained its rigid erection.

At last the three-pose flogging was over and Aunty Pat, helping me to my feet, told the girls they could leave. Both stepped up and kissed me on the cheek, and fondled my stiffness, before leaving the chamber, chuckling.

I had endured the three-pose flogging with the pin-pricked scrotal pacifier around my balls, but throughout it I had maintained my erection. It looked as if I was becoming an accomplished sex slave!