On The Minds Of Men

Chapter 5: Rivalry

She stepped slowly across the stage, around the body of a male slave who lay with arms at his sides. She was close to six feet tall, very dark skinned. Her long legs were bare and splendidly strong. She planted a foot on his face, pressed it down over his jaw and cheek, displacing the flesh; casually she withdrew, but with the same foot turned his face to the side, exposing the cartilege of his neck to the view of the audience. She lifted her foot. Down slammed her heel, with a ferocity that made Sandra jump and jolted the man's whole body; her foot hit the floor board less than an inch from his neck. Had she connected, she would very probably have taken his life.

Smiling slightly she stepped down from the stage, to collective applause from all the women.

It was a weekend away, at a holiday house on the coast, frequented by Anne and her professional colleagues, and well appointed to suit their needs and tastes. All the women of the group had come with their partners, and were presently spread around a large living area that doubled as auditorium. It had a stage at one end, and on another side gave onto a balcony looking over the sea. The woman who had just performed for them was a friend of Anne. The two of them were now talking together in front of the stage.

Sandra's contemplation of the black dominatrix was interrupted by Gillian's voice.

'Don't you find that solidness of his kind of gross?' she was asking, seated upon her man, her knees together and hands in her lap, and glancing over to Jacqui and her partner.

'He's not that solid,' said Jacqui. 'About average.'

'But average is far too solid. You should reduce his muscle tone and run down his physical fitness. They both give men an obnoxious sense of self-sufficiency that interferes with worship of the female.'

'We have our own understanding,' Jacqui replied. Languidly she glanced over at Sandra. 'Gillian and I are not arguing,' she continued.

'No I'm not being mean to her,' Gillian. 'I like to strike at her man now and then, though.'

'Breaking men is one of Gillian's special skills and interests,' Kath said, looking enormous as she sat across the torso of her own man. Sandra seemed to hear a silent groan from him, a silent creak of his ribs, whenever she shifted position.

Sandra burst into nervous laughter. 'I'm amazed at how freely you talk to each other, about each other's partners I mean - and in front of everyone else, as well, she said.

'You've come across our group at a good time,' Kath said. 'After a lot of hard work and heartache. These things aren't easy to sort out. We can talk so openly because we share so much, we've helped each other so much, we've shared a lot of experience and gone through a lot of trials and difficult issues together.'

'But now we have sorted them out,' Jacqui said.

'Let's have The Rules,' said Gillian.

'She's already heard most of them,' Kath said, 'in bits and pieces. The first rule is no rivalry, no divisions between us. Everything is talked through. And nothing was harder to sort out than rules of conduct toward each other's men. We simply couldn't allow anything to divide us. The men could do that, even without meaning to.'

Sandra glanced over at Mandy, had not yet spoken. Between Mandy and her partner things were as usual: she sat unmoving, with overwhelming weight, on his stretched out body, and through her weight on his body she sat overwhelmingly on his thoughts.

'It's easy for the man to express a preference for another woman,' Kath went on, 'to signal to you in subtle ways that he wants to please you, maybe even more than his own mistress. It can be flattering. But nothing is more corrosive to the group.'

'So we've set very clear ground rules to prevent it,' Gillian said. 'First, whatever we do with another woman's partner is done with her permission. Second, any private sexual act with another woman's man to be purely for your physical pleasure. Definitely no secret intimacy, no private deep and meaningfuls.'

'It doesn't mean you can't have any emotional connection to one of the other men,' Jacqui added. 'It's just that it can't be private, you have to declare it openly.'

'But that must be so hard!' Sandra exclaimed.

'But it can be done, in a supportive environment,' Gillian said. 'Look at what started all this off - my comments about Jacqui's man. It's sexual interest on my part. She knows, we all know, I'd love to get my claws into him. It's quite strong in me so definitely I have to be honest about it.'

'We can only manage to do that because we have so much history with each other,' Jacqui said. It would be much harder for a new person like you. For a while you would probably just want to raise issues privately, to the woman involved,' Jacqui said.

'Yes,' said Sandra,; gathering courage, 'I think something like that has already happened between Mandy and Kath and me.'

'Yeah that's it,' Kath said carelessly. 'Sandra got scared last week by how much she enjoyed sitting on Mandy's man. We talked her through it.'

'So you see Sandra it's all quite OK,' Jacqui said.

'Your group understanding is a fabulous achievement,' said Sandra.

There was a pause.

'Shall we ride for a while?' Kath suggested.

'Great idea,' said Gillian. Most of the women agreed to ride their men out in a wooded area at the back of the house.

They did not all go. Anne was still deep in discussion with her other friend, and stayed back with her. Mandy did not go either. It was understood that Mandy was simply too much heavier than her partner for him even to try carrying her. Jacqui's man might have managed to stagger under Mandy a brief way, but in any case Mandy preferred to use the afternoon to keep squashing down her own man. Mandy went out onto a bench on the balcony, facing the sea. Sandra and Gillian joined her briefly.

They were close enough to the shore to hear the crash and surge of the waves. Sandra discovered that this raised serious issues for Mandy and Gillian, in terms of its impact on Mandy's partner. 'The sea is evocative,' Gillian said, 'you'll lose some of his attention to it. It can't be ignored.' She was of the opinion that Mandy should talk him through its impact on him, and try to make him experience the sound of the ocean as an emanation of Mandy's own femaleness. But Mandy opted simply to seal his ears with thick wads of wax - a focussing technique that she was using with him more and more often.

Sandra watched with misgivings as the wax was applied. Strong though her committment was to female domination, it was not all-encompassing, and an incident such as this one sometimes revived her doubts, and brought out a different part of her personality: for a while her new friends seemed like strangers again. Did they still have any doubts? Jacqui, perhaps... she seemed so much milder than the others.

The trip outside was delayed at the last moment: Jacqui had been intending to ride her partner, but Gillian objected, saying that he was too strong, and that he would carry her far too easily. Jacqui accepted this objection, or at least went along with it. Anne was asked to allow Jacqui to ride one of the visiting slaves under her control, and in the end it was agreed that Jacqui would ride the weaker of these two strangers.

While Sandra waited with the others, her doubts over the incident with Mandy were slowly washed away by a conflicting, deeper and stronger current of feeling, until there was nothing left of her concerns. Let him simply look at the underside of Mandy's massive leg on top of his head, she thought - at her thigh, the back of her knee and calf. Let him smell her. Above all, let him experience her weight upon him heavily and continuously.

When they left her, Mandy was sitting on him comfortably, the seascape before her and a novel open in her lap. Sandra was glad that she had not revealed her moment of weakness.

Kath, Gillian, Jacqui and Sandra prepared to set off on a path behind the house. They saw that it led up a hill to a lookout and eating area with wooden tables and benches. They also noticed while that the incline was mild at first it steepened towards the top.

Sandra's man knelt for her. She sat astride his slender back. It was much more slender now than when the two of them had joined the group, whereas her body was heavier than it had ever been. She relaxed her legs completely as soon his arms came around her thighs, to pass on to him the entire effort of lifting her. As soon as she was off the ground she had a sense of being far too heavy for him. Had this been ordinary playfulness, or some practical activity, she would have got off him again at once; as it was, the sense of her weight on him being 'far too much' was a great stimulant to her.

As they rode, Sandra decided that her moment of doubt had receded so far that she could even talk about it casually with the hard-line Gillian.

'Doubts are reasonable at your stage. You're still a novice Sandra. The main thing is that you overcame them quickly. You're growing into new experiences, becoming someone new,' Gillian said.

'But for Mandy and her man,' she went on, 'an issue like him being distracted by the sea is quite serious. Those two are very far advanced - I believe she really has got his mind focused on her over 90% of the time. It's like anything: the nearer you get to perfection the harder it gets to advance, and it will get harder and harder for her to advance him towards complete focus, so these small refinements of domination like silencing the outside world really make a difference.

'But to get back to our earlier conversation,' she went on, 'we swap guys as we please,' Gillian said. 'But emotionally they always belong to their woman. The swapping is really an exchange happening between us, not them. Swapping men is a way of sharing, and actually of bonding, between the women.'

'What about the guys themselves? I mean - they don't interact much - do they?' Sandra asked

'Not much,' Kath said lazily, whose man was falling into step with them. There was a slight ripple in her flesh with each step managed by her man. She was absolutely abundant, and through a program of dieting she had reduced her partner to little more than a stick insect. Yet he managed to go on carrying her, without complaint or hesitation; it was clear that a miracle was happening at every step, a pure triumph for her over him, and a deep confirmation of their relationship.

'The men share a committment to us, to all of us,' Jacqui said. Her weak man carrying her was visibly stressed, in contrast to the composure and relaxation she herself displayed. She was rocked slightly forward and back by his motion beneath her. His head was bent down as though in despair. 'They share a service ethic towards their women,' she added. 'But no, they don't have that much to say to each other, except practical things now and then.'

'Because we focus them so relentlessly on us,' Gillian said.

Despite the effort it took, Sandra's man carried her more or less smoothly at first. But as they went on, and the slope became steeper, the effort began to tell on him. He was stopping for an instant between each step, obtaining a second of rest for himself between each effort. These momentary halts were very enjoyable to Sandra - who kept her legs relaxed, and who felt as full of energy and zest as at the start of the trip. She had begun to discover that the constant orders he took from her, all the bitching received, the tiredness endured, was wearing down his resistance to further commands. Now, tiredness no longer bred any kind of resentment in him, instead it simply opened him up to receive yet more orders, more bitching (or encouragement, depending on her whim), more demands for acts that would exhaust him further. So he kept carrying her without any notion of complaint. It was as though her domination of him was driven a little deeper into his soul by the impact of each footfall.

Sandra turned to the scenery. Her awareness of the man's efforts beneath her was blended into into a delicious feeling of weightlessness and freedom. She thought of her increasingly large body as something to cherish and be cherished.

'There's a lot of techniques in dealing with the guys,' Kath said.

'Never concede anything,' said Gillian. 'Never ackowledge hurt from any man during a fight. But always acknowledge genuine acts of submission, especially when they reach a new level. But forgiveness for bad words or deeds should always be conditional. There must always be punishment first.'

'Never let things stay still for too long,' said Kath. 'We're all on spiritual journeys, we have to press forward and keep pressing the men gently but firmly down a bit further every day.'

'And sometimes,' said Gillian, 'you have to smoke resistance out of them, insert a needle to provoke it out of them - then when it comes out you break it.'

'And don't make the domination an us against them thing,' said Jacqui. 'Do you know what I mean? Remember he's your partner and you're in it together, and that his better instincts are on your side. He wants you to win and needs you to win, ultimately he's an indispensable ally against his own rebellions, however much he suffers and squirms and sulks and tries to resist.'

Sandra considered this.

'I've noticed that you don't try turn the men against each other either,' she said.

'That would be just meanness,' said Gillian. 'We never make them suffer except for us. And more to the point, we don't want them wasting time and mental energy on other men instead of us.'

When they came to the lookout area each woman had to concentrate on coaxing her man on toward the tables before he collapsed. They squeezed out the last drops of each man's energy.

'Come on,' Sandra heard Jacqui say, in her luxurious voice, bending her head down toward that of her slave, 'you don't want the shame of sinking now, and making me walk, or even making me tense my thighs.' Her appeal seemed to work, he hoisted her up again and went on, soaked in sweat.

'No,' Gillian suddenly announced. Kath and Jacqui looked up in surprise. They had already sat down on their men, and were facing each other across a table. Gillian refused to dismount and Sandra had not yet done so: she checked her man to a stop. 'Sandra, I don't believe your man is truly exhausted. I know mine isn't. Will you come up a little further? There's a nice rock outcrop not much higher up where we can sit.' Sandra was reluctant to keep riding, for she was finally starting to feel sorry for their steeds. But she did not want to refuse Gillian. 'It's very good for them to experience exhaustion in our service,' Gillian continued, as they two women set off again immediately.

When they reached the flat rocky outcrop their men, now being used as cushions, were both trembling with exhaustion. The outcrop, Sandra thought, really had nothing to recommend it over the table area below, except as an excuse for demanding little more carrying from the men.

'Sandra what are you thinking?' Gillian asked.

'I... sometimes it's - you're so clear minded about your right to - it's not even dominate, it's this thing about our right to have - I don't want to call it selfishness or self-centredness because that sounds like an insult -'

'Sandra,' she cut in, 'you must be absolutely calm and clear about your right to his total focus, his total surrender of will and his total surrender of rights. You hold all those things in the palm of your hand. You are nothing less than a goddess to him. The submission he demonstrates by suffering and adoration is a mirror that helps you to see the goddess in yourself. Once that happens you'll be amazed to remember a time that you worried about selfishness and self-centredness.

'Those terms simply have no meaning, unless as terms of praise, to women in our position.' She looked so serious as to be almost grim. At that moment Sandra felt quite overwhelmed by Gillian. As though on cue, the sky cleared and a single sunbeam fell on her - blocked by a low branch from reaching Sandra. The sharp blue eyes and shining hair, the precision and classic beauty of her features; the intensity and queenly power of her mind; and the nature of what she was saying - this pure committment, entirely free of shame, to harnessing the male mind wholly toward adoration of the female: it was just too much...

'And there's something else. To retreat into worrying about your so-called selfishess would not be an act of morality but an act of cowardice, and not just cowardice but, what's far more important, and act of betrayal toward your man. We are his chance to attain to the ecstacy of surrender to the female. There is no way he can reach it except through us. Of course he'll waver sometimes during his suffering. Only we can lead him through that, and we can only do it by relentless demands and pressure on him.'