Chapter 1: Introductions

Mandy sat on him with her full weight of perhaps 200lbs. Her thighs, within her short, loose skirt, were spread apart over his chest and stomach. He was small and rather light; it was no contest. Any attempt on his part to resist would have failed, and with her massive body on him it would have been very easy for her to mete out retribution. But there was no struggle.

There had been, once: as she recalled those times, a smile flickered to life for a moment across her mouth and cheek. Each moment that she sat on this pinned, quiescent man felt like a fresh victory for her. And she knew that for the man under her, each moment brought a newly experienced taste of defeat.

Sandra could not take her eyes from them. She looked up at Mandy's fleshy face, at the North European paleness of her yellow hair and blue eyes, and then back down at the sheer fullness of the woman's thighs and bottom. It occurred to Sandra that Mandy was sitting on his mind just as heavily as on his body. Under that amount of pressure he would not really be able to drift into daydream or memory, or to concentrate on the various conversations taking place.

Whereas Mandy was free to think of him or not, as she pleased; at that moment, for example, she was chatting with some of the other women, drinking wine, dipping bread into the caviar paste. He was Mandy's long term partner, Sandra had been told. His small round face rested on its side, facing into the middle of the room, but his eyes seemed to be unfocused.

'Everything we do to our men, Sandra, is designed to deepen our relationships with them. They suffer, then they celebrate with us afterwards,' said Kath, the woman with short dark hair, who was nearly opposite Sandra, to Mandy's left. Hardly less heavy than Mandy, Kath was more muscular, especially about the upper body. Her thighs, displayed to full effect by her tight jeans, were, like Mandy's, spread wide apart over the torso of her man.

Although it was mid afternoon there was not much daylight, for the room was a basement, with only a row of small windows near the ceiling above Sandra's head. Most of the light lay in pools cast by lamps here and there. On low tables in the middle of the room were the remains of the women's meals, alongside half empty bottles. There were no chairs. There were instead two long lounges, a futon, two large, flattened bean bags, and a wooden bench. On each one of these items of furniture a man lay on his back, and on every man sat a woman. To Sandra's left was Anne, then Mandy against the other wall; then, more or less opposite Sandra, was Kath, with Gillian next to her, and then Jacqui nearest the kitchen.

The power relationships displayed around the room were too strange and too intoxicating for Sandra to attend properly to what was being said. The comments from the women followed quickly over one another, and Sandra could not yet distinguish one speaker from another.

'If they didn't suffer there'd be no spice.'

'Yeah, if we didn't go beyond their comfort zones, sometimes way beyond...'

'Then there wouldn't any thrill for them either.'

'You see Sandra, they always congratulate us afterwards for staying in control.'

'They have to suffer, whether its just discomfort -

'Prolonged discomfort -'

'Or even just bored immobility while we're eating and yacking -

'Or sometimes real pain -'

'Whatever it is, it's always real suffering and always something that sooner or later they stop enjoying and want to escape from -'

'Oh yes, but! However bad it gets for them there's always one chink of light, always one thread dangling down into the pit, and that light and that thread is that part of them knows that later they'll be adoring us for having had the will power to stay in the saddle and never let them throw us off.'

'And don't forget the pleasure they get from the anticipation beforehand. We are by far the best thing that has ever happened to any of them! And they all know it!'

This last comment was from Anne. Anne had long reddish brown hair with a slight wave in it, freckles, and hot-looking dark brown eyes. She seemed to be the odd one out in the group, for she was petite and distinctly smaller and lighter than her man. Nevertheless Anne was the only one that Sandra felt slightly afraid of. When Anne spoke to any of the men it was always in the tone of someone starting to get into a fight. She was a professional dominatrix. This was her house.

Sandra had already been shown the whips and other equipment in the adjoining room. She had visited two evenings earlier. Anne had shown her around the house, with Kath present too. That evening had seemed most exciting and exotic at the time; Sandra had watched, fascinated, at the open way that the two women bossed around their partners; she remembered the sight of their two men washing and drying dishes in the kitchen, speaking softly to each other about practicalities, as Kath and Anne sat over drinks with her, describing the various forms of female domination that most appealed to them. And then an imposing tall black woman had called in to speak to Anne, and she turned out to be another professional... but that evening seemed much closer to everyday life than what Sandra was experiencing now.

When Mandy ate anything they all seemed very interested.

'Sandra's wondering why you're all watching me,' Mandy said. 'She'll think it's some kind of ceremony.'

'Well in a way it is,' Kath said. She turned to Sandra. 'We believe,' she went on, 'that Mandy and her partner are entering a new phase. At their home she spends an awful lot of time squashing him down, you know, just like she is now. And the weight differential is quite high. As she puts on more weight, well, we just wonder what he can endure.' 'Much more yet,' Mandy said, accepting a honey cake from a plate offered by Anne. For some reason this brief exchange seemed to enliven everyone.

The talk become louder and faster. It was all so disorienting! Sandra felt as though she was watching a faulty television that kept flickering from colour to black and white: at one moment she was delighted and invigorated by this display of female power and control, but an instant later it would all seem mad, scary, impossible. She was glad the other women were more or less leaving her alone; though she guessed that the discussion was often mainly for her benefit, covering topics where the other women already knew each other's opinions, and were agreed.

Were there any tensions within the group? Gillian, almost opposite her, was undoubtedly the most attractive of the women from a conventional point of view, with her pretty face and bright blonde hair. Talkative, nervy, with a girlish voice, and wearing lollipop pink lipstick and matching hair band, was she annoying to some of the other women? If so there was no sign of it. Her eyes sometimes glinted in the light from the high windows. She sat with her long legs together, hands folded on her knees which sometimes swayed from side to side. Although not very plump in the upper body, she spread out considerably below the waist. Her man, stretched beneath her, was decidedly thin, with the same sunken leanness as a catwalk model.

And how did Jacqui, to Gillian's left, get on with the rest of them? At first Sandra had confused her with Kath, though Jacqui was less heavy and had a softer look, and smiled more often. Jacqui's superb breasts would have been enough to stir up jealous dislike in some women. Jacqui did seem a little apart from the others in her manner: more casual somehow, less intense; but she too sat on her man. He looked more muscular than the others males, as though he worked out at a gym, and was probably as heavy as Jacqui, and he seemed more connected with what was happening than the other men. At one point he put his hands casually behind his head (though Jacqui at once leant down a spoke softly to him, and his hands returned to his sides). But like the other men he did not look at anybody; it seemed to be a rule of the place.

Unfortunately, Sandra thought, she herself seemed to be the odd one out. Anne in particular seemed to frown whenever she turned vaguely Sandra's way, as though at some social error. Meanwhile Sandra's own man was becoming restless under her. She felt his stomach muscles tighten, heard his teeth grind. Obviously he was not enjoying the reality of the situation, however interested he'd been to come here. Sandra had feared it might not be easy, he was so changeable and restless; still, it was disappointing. Several times Sandra almost got off him, but instead, at the last moment just resettled herself, feeling more and more self conscious.

At last Sandra could bear her tension no longer and asked where the toilet was, just to give her man some time to breathe. Anne showed her down the corridor, asked her to close the far door. Returning into the room Anne closed the nearer door too, and instead of returning to her futon, she walked over to Sandra's man and fetched him a tremendous slap across the face.

'You selfish coward!' she cried. A mark came up red on is face in moments, and the rest of his face reddened. 'Stop upsetting your wife with all your writhing around! You're really getting on my nerves.' He rose up onto one elbow, glaring at her. He opened his mouth as if about to say something. 'Stop!' 'Don't speak!' several of the woman called over one another. 'Don't say a word!' 'And stop looking at me!' said Anne. 'Lie down!' all the women began saying to him. Kath got up and stood close beside Anne.

'Don't argue, just take it from her,' Kath told him. He finally looked away from Anne, who continued to watch him closely. 'Kath's right,' Jacqui added gently but firmly, still sitting on her own man. 'Anne did all that for your own good.'

'You should be grateful,' said Mandy.

'You know very well that you wanted to come here,' Jacqui said. 'Anne just helped you to remember that it isn't always easy, especially at first. Lie back down now.' And he did so.

'And stop looking for attention,' said Anne sharply. 'That's right' said Kath, 'anything more from you would be revolting.' Kath resumed her male seat, but Anne remained where she was, her fists on her hips.

'I could get my man to speak to him afterwards,' suggested Jacqui, leaning towards Gillian.

'No,' said Gillian at once. 'He needs to bond with us first.' 'Badly,' said Anne. She bent down toward his face. 'Listen to me carefully. The time will soon arrive when you will love us. All of us. Love us, and long for us. Then you'll be desperately glad you have Sandra as your partner and are therefore allowed to return here.' As she finished speaking the room was very quiet. She knelt down close beside him as he lay on the bench, still watching him through narrowed eyes. 'Are you beginning to understand?' He nodded, swallowed. A collective female sigh went through the room. Anne tousled his hair then stood up, just as Sandra returned.

Later, as they were all leaving, Kath and Jacqui both came out to see off Sandra and her husband, and stayed talking to them for some time by their car.

'So bright outside in the daylight,' isn't it?' said Sandra.

'It's important to have someone with you when you hit the everyday world again, after your first meeting.' "Yes. it's all quite - enormous, isn't it?' 'It's an enormous change,' and there's a danger of coming out of your meeting and thinking "hey wow! did that really go on?" And that's not always a good feeling.'

In the sunlight Sandra noticed the mark on her husband's face.

'What happened?' she cried. He looked down, began to mumble something, but Kath spoke over him at once.

'Sandra, as soon as you left the room Anne slapped him, as punishment for making you feel uncomfortable. It did him good.' Sandra raised her fingers to the mark on his cheek, but he put his own hand over it first. He felt unable to speak. For the first hour in that room he'd wanted nothing else than to get away and never return, to write it all off as a mistake. And now that he was free again in the outside world, now, when it would have been so easy to go away and never come back, the memory of what had just happened was pouring into him like a swift cold stream that had already quenched all his objections, and all he wanted to do was return.

Chapter II Romance

'Ready?' asked Mandy.

Without waiting for an answer Mandy rose off the prostrate form of her partner. Sandra had only an instant to see, or to imagine that she saw, his chest begin to swell with incoming air before Kath's broad hips swung into place on him. Kath bounced on his stomach a couple of times, as though testing him, her tongue working vigorously against the inside of her cheek. Then she sat herself near his right shoulder and collarbone, one fleshy thigh over his midriff and the other across his neck, heavily pinning his face down on its side. She breathed deeply, sighed, raised her chin. Mandy smiled a little as she watched, before leaving the room.

While Kath was plainly in control of the man she sat on, she was actually giving him more freedom to breathe than Mandy had, and Sandra could now see his chest rising and falling lightly.

Kath's own man had unobtrusively stood up as soon as she'd got off him, and had moved behind the couch where he'd lain.

'Clear the trays,' Kath ordered him. He began picking up the dishes and empty bottles from the tables in the middle of the room. He was ignored by Gillian, Jacqui and Anne, who also sat around the tables, upon their own partners.

'Male invisibility is an art,' Kath said. 'Sandra you'll see how our men have all learned how to melt away, whether they're under you or not, so that you don't notice them until you need to.'

'And they keep some of that not-there quality when they're being spoken of,' added Gillian, eyeing Kath's man.

Sandra turned curiously to Jacqui's partner, who had struck her last week as being 'there' a bit more than the others. This week Jacqui was seated almost on his neck, and one of her large soft thighs covered most of his face.

'Which is why we took offense at your man's attention- seeking behaviour last week,' Anne said to Sandra. 'But it's all right. Everyone has to learn. Has he made progress over the last seven days?'

'He's been quieter than usual,' Sandra said. 'Preoccupied. I've noticed him stopping himself when he looked like he was going to disagree with me. And he's also asked for direction from me more often than usual.'

'And what about you, have you changed?'

'I've certainly been sitting on him more often, and haven't felt so self conscious about it.'

'It'll soon be second nature,' said Jacqui.

'There are other changes,' Sandra went on, 'I took up one of your recommendations, Anne, and told him to stop answering the phone, and leave it to me, and he's obeyed. But even when I give him messages from his friends I've noticed that he's returning fewer calls than before. He's spent a lot less time on computer games, or sport, and so far he's skipped three TV shows that used to be unmissable. All his old enjoyments that didn't involve me are starting to fall away,' she said proudly.

'Excellent,' Anne said, 'but not surprising.'

'Another change is that his eating has dropped off, whereas I've been having more.'

While Sandra talked her partner lay unmoving beneath her, focussing on her almost completely. He was highly sensitised to each movement she made, to each slight shift in her position, to the firming or relaxing of one buttock or the other. But he was very aware too of her voice, which was full of vitality. He heard scraps of Anne's matter of fact questions and observations. Although not really listening in - Sandra had told him to focus only on herself - he recalled Anne's slap last week, her sharp words to him, and the torrent of female voices that had held down his confused impulse to resist her.

Mandy returned to the room. Kath waited until Mandy was right beside her before stirring, as though unwilling to get off Mandy's partner before she had to. When she did get off him he began to writhe slightly, unable to resist the opportunity for free movement. Mandy did not rush to resume her place on him, but when she did resettle herself she oncemore she sat her whole weight on him. Her thighs and bottom covered his stomach and chest fully, ending the brief interlude when he had breathed with relative ease.

While this was happening, no-one had noticed Kath's partner lie back down in his place, ready to become her seat again.

'Sandra, last week you started asking us how we all met our men,' said Jacqui. 'You should ask Kath in particular, she has a quite romantic tale to tell.' Sandra seconded this request.

'Actually,' Kath said, 'there's not that much to it. I'll try to tell it a bit differently so the others who've heard it before aren't too bored.' They protested this last comment, but she spoke over them.

'Imagine an ocean beach. Rocky headlands, stretches of fine sand in the bays, the water wild, but not too wild for strong swimmers like me. Behind the beach there's a cluster of homes and one shop. I rented a house there by myself one summer when I needed solitude. Well after two days I was rested, almost too rested. The solitude started to feel lonely, and I thought of inviting a friend down. A male. I wanted a man to boss around, one that could really be moulded into shape.

'One afternoon I saw this scrawny young guy on the beach, checking out the women, the skinny ones, but me as well. And I sensed something. I mean, of course I was wary. But his eyes kept straying to me, I saw him turn away suddenly whenever I stared at him.'

Sandra looked down at Kath's man. Kath's thigh was well over his face, and she appeared to be pressing it down on him now and then, perhaps unconsciously.

'That evening I was down at the beach again, in jeans and sweater. He wasn't there, there were just a few skinny groovy couples beginning to pack up their things. I went for a walk and on the way back rested on some rocks. And then - there he was, the last one on the beach but for me. Slouching along with head down with the waves lapping near his sandshoes.

'Well my heart started racing because I knew I was going to try something. Don't know how I got so much nerve up from a standing start but I called him over. Told him I had a sprain in my ankle and needed help getting back to my car. He was all kindness and concern. So I shammed the bad ankle and put my left arm over his shoulder and hopped on my right.

'The moment we were clear of the rocks I told him "this isn't working. You're going to have to carry me". And he did .'

Gillian bounced noticably upon her man - pursed her lips, flashed her eyes, clasped her hands together more tightly.

'It was the first moment of truth,' Kath continued. 'I got up on his back. Pretending to be an invalid when I was surging with energy. I wrapped my legs firmly around his waist. He swayed there a moment as though he was going to collapse on the spot, but I felt no impulse at all to get off him again. I was already right into the moment, determined to enjoy him under me for as long as I could. My weight was gone from me, my only effort was in keeping my legs wrapped around him. I just adore that weightless feeling, and adore knowing that I'm occupying ninety nine percent of a man's thinking power.

'He took a few more steps, one at a time as though he didn't expect to manage many more. But then he seemed to get used to it because he went a little bit faster. I could sense that I was stretching him right to his limit. And - I just loved my own body as I rode on him. I was glad of every ounce of flesh on me.

'There are times when I enjoy demonstrating superior strength over a male, but that wasn't my mood at the time. In fact I began to resent the effort of holding up my legs when I could make him do that as well. But just then he started to sway again, and he said something like "sorry I'll just have to rest a moment". And he actually began to lower me!'

'"Stop!" I told him. And he did. "Don't put me down, just stand still a minute. Bend over further until you get your breath back." Now that was another moment of truth. I'd moved openly into bossing him. But he did just as he was told. Well, with him bent over a bit further I shifted one thigh up higher on his back and then the other, almost toppling him. It was my signal for him to get started again. "Continue as soon as you're ready," I ordered. And he began moving, and the moment he did so I relaxed my thighs. They began slipping but straight away he tightened his arms to hold them up, taking the extra strain - I'd won another victory! I was finally delivered into a state of complete weightlessness and freedom while he was bound to my will, bound to consiousness of me, that much more tightly. Good boy I said to myself.'

She took a gulp of wine and leant forward on him.

'And to him I said "link your hands in front, to stop my legs from slipping again," and he did that too and kept staggering on without another word. I tell you truly I almost came."

'Yay!' cried Gillian, punching the air, and some of the others clapped.

'Oh girls! My full weight on this stranger man was committing him body and soul to me. Without any words we were right in one another's minds. I could feel every muscle and tendon in him strained to its limit and beyond its limit and he felt me weighing onto every part of him. I started up a running line of conversation, not to break the tension but to fill his head even more with thoughts of me, and give him no chance to speak even if he could find the breath.

'As we neared my car the ground rose up slightly. He was obviously getting close to the end of his strength. He almost toppled. I just sat there on him, 190lbs to his 120, swaying slightly until he recovered his balance. "Sorry," he managed to say. What a nice touch!

'When we reached my car I was ready, I moved straight back into the grateful female invalid role and insisted that he come back so I could offer him a drink and so on. I drove him to my place and we got drunk enough for him to lose his inhibitions. The ankle was forgotten. Then I gave him the first of the night's good long face sits and he serviced me until I came.'

'What a wonderful story!' Sandra said.

At some stage during her tale Kath's man had begun to massage her thighs lightly, clearly with permission, since he wasn't told to stop. He was still stroking her now, with his fingetips.

'The next day he woke up all strained and sore. Whereas I felt fantastic! I got him straight back into it. We perfected it until I felt completely relaxed on him and didn't have to put in any effort except lightly holding his shoulders.'

'Any problems handling him?' asked Sandra.

'He was shy, a bit withdrawn. A bit overwhelmed. He'd had no real-life experience with femdom. And I found out later that he was still partly hungering for vanilla sex with skinny girls.'

'But you've squashed that out of him,' Gillian said. Sandra looked curiously at this pink and gold girly-girl.

'Did you ever put him on all fours? asked Sandra.

'Not that time, said Kath. 'All fours does put the man in a nice and subservient position. But I usually prefer him upright because it's more comfortable for the woman when done properly. And it takes so much more effort for the man to carry you upright, it's more of a committment and it makes the experience of your weight more emphatic for him.

'All fours is good for very big women,' Anne said.

'What about on his shoulders?' asked Sandra.

'Yeah, sometimes. You can massage yourself on his neck that way. But I tell you another thing,' said Kath. The whole relationship with this new man renewed my love affair with my own body. For some reason being carried does that for me. I guess it's knowing that a man adores your flesh enough to suffer for, and they prove it over and over with every moment of eye-popping strain. Whereas the woman on top of him can just -' she slapped her thigh as she sat, then slapped both sides of her bottom; Sandra observed the faint rippling of her flesh.

'- relish herself,' Gillian put in.

'That's it, you just enjoy the feel of your own body all over and in a new way, you feel all the substance of yourself without any of the burden.'

'Mmmmn,' said Jacqui. 'You could even say that each of our relationships is a threesome between the woman, her body and the man.'

'Which is why it's good to mix up the carrying and sitting sessions with pampering, where he slowly rubs body lotion or perfume into your flesh. All the erogenous areas and surrounds,' Gillian added.

'In my case it always ends up with him going down on me,' Mandy said.

'What do you all do about - well, smells and body hair and sweat and all that stuff?' asked Sandra.

'Entirely personal choice,' Kath replied. If you enjoy those aspects of yourself the man just has to learn to take them and love them, like everything else. But it's whatever you're comfortable with.'

'Remember this is all about your pleasure. There's no monkish demands on you to do this or that,' said Gillian.

'All the demands are on him,' Anne added

'But getting back to the carrying,' Kath said, and Sandra saw that she was mainly talking to her now, 'it's just so much fun! I do things like sway my hips so that he staggers and has to keep rebalancing, and now whenever he's got to the very tired stage I routinely make him climb stairs or steep slopes, and I get up higher on his back so that if he gives way I always land on top.'

'Those are the best moments,' added Gillian. 'When the man is just starting to buckle and give way. Once you're sure he's not shamming to escape from the work, I mean. When you really have him on the edge of the intolerable it's just so sweet, you ride him round and around the very boundary of his endurance. Those last moments when he starts to go under, for me they're like an orgasm, you just want to extend those sweet few seconds for as long as you can, you yell at him to force him to carry you those extra few steps. Each step is sweeter than the last, they're the purests moments of power, and worship, and intimacy.'

Sandra admired the beauty of Gillian's voice - sometimes mellow, sometimes high and breathy. She sang in a choir, apparently.

'And it's a very good breaking down exercise,' said Anne. 'When you've got him exhausted, especially by doing something very intimate like carrying you, when you're really sitting heavily on his mind, then it's a great moment to break down any resistance you're getting on other matters. Anything he won't do for you, or tell you about, or if he won't stop sulking - just get him exhausted and then go for it. He'll give way nine times out of ten, I swear.'

'Which takes him to a higher level of committment to you,' said Gillian coolly.

'The carrying is also a good way to help a woman leave behind any last trace of guilt she has about physical domination,' said Anne. 'If you still have any guilt, making him carry you will bring it out. Then you can consciously just... let it go.'

'Mandy has sometimes agreed get carried on the back of my man,' Jacqui said.

Mandy stirred languidly. 'For your sake sweetheart. And for his own good. Carrying isn't one of my favourite things. But your man is still strong in the body and needs lots of weighing down.'

Sandra fixed her gaze again on Mandy, still sitting on her frail man with full weight, still pinning him down massively and completely. If I'm not careful, Sandra thought, I'll lose track of the conversation. What was it about Mandy that was so distracting, so... seductive? Was she bringing out a gay side in her nature? Sandra decided not: the man's presence was crucial to her enjoyment of the scene. But with the man in place - in his proper place, underneath her - Mandy's thighs emerging from her short skirt looked luscious beyond compare.

When she tore her gaze away from Mandy, Sandra noticed that all the women's faces were flushed.

'I can see it's time for face sitting,' said Anne with a smile.

Chapter III: Freedom of choice

Jacqui undressed from the waist down. All five women watched her in silence. She laid her clothes neatly on the ground.

She moved toward Gillian. As usual, Gillian was sitting sidesaddle on her own man's stomach, but on this occasion he was not lying on a couch but upon a thickly folded blanket on the floor. A roll of cotton wool had been inserted under his neck, which forced up the lower half of his face.Gillian's legs were stretched out in front of her.

Jacqui approached them, every movement ladylike. She knelt over the man's head, her knees on his shoulders, facing Gillian, then carefully lowered herself. Glancing back briefly over her shoulder, she settled herself over his face, which he lifted to meet her. Sandra noticed him swallow; it was her last sight of him before Jacqui's bottom covered his features and pressed him back down.

'Best he's ever looked,' muttered Anne.

'When I sit on his face I always encourage him to start speaking first,' said Gillian. 'I love that moment when my cheeks settle and snuff out his voice. Muffle it for a second or two, then snuff it out. Very satisfying. He never manages to finish a sentence.'

Silence followed, as everyone regarded the smooth flesh of Jacqui's thighs, bottom and hips: pale flesh, but with a touch of the nut brown coloring of her eyes and hair, that gave it a creamy quality.

'How is he?' asked Gillian.

'Good,' Jacqui said, somewhat coolly. Sandra realised for the first time that Jacqui had a slight Eastern European accent. 'They're always a bit bony.'

'You look wonderful,' Sandra said, but you remain a mystery to me she added to herself.

Anne walked across to them.

'Open your hand,' Anne said to Gillian's man, and he did so, palm upwards. She promptly sat on his hand and forearm, crossing her ankles in front of her, and beckoned Sandra over. 'Join in! Pin his other hand.' Anne smiled as Sandra came over, aware of Sandra's excitment, aware that this would be the first time Sandra had taken a real part in the group.

Sandra sat on his other thin, unprotesting hand and arm. She felt the warmth of the other women's bodies close to her. Jacqui laid her fingertips lightly on Sandra's arm, and Sandra noticed that the women were all touching each other in such fashion. All of them, however, seemed to be more focussed on the supine man beneath them than on each other.

'Any moment now,' said Gillian.

'Stay in place everyone,' Anne said.

A sudden, strong wrench went through his body.

'Stay, stay,' Anne half-whispered. Gillian moved up closer to Jacqui and placed a long slender hand on her friend's thigh. Jacqui sighed.

He bucked much more strongly than before, disturbing each of the four women, though they all stayed in place. His resistance repeated itself, at closer intervals and with increasing urgency. Each time, however, the women were easily victorious.

'Oh wow!' Gillian cried after his fourth failure, 'look how long we've lasted. Look how long he's been without a breath and we're still on him! Jacqui you're adorable!'

His head was trying to turn under the woman seated on his face. Jacqui's hands rested calmly against the sides of her hips, which were being shifted slightly to and fro by his frantic movements. She looked down at him, her expression unreadable. She made no move to get off him.

'All right,' Anne said quietly. Jacqui raised herself slowly. They heard the gasp of his breath. Gillian shifted back down onto his stomach, making space for Jacqui on his chest. As Jacqui moved next to Gillian her thighs and bottom flattened and spread over his ribs. Her legs were stretched out next to Gillian's, across the carpet, near Anne who was still sitting on his hand.

'He's got a lot of woman on him,' Mandy said from the sidelines. Nearby Kath laughed and applauded casually.

'And see how sweetly he submits,' Gillian said, 'when he can still hardly breathe, with one woman on his chest and another on his stomach.' She paused, reflecting.

'Why don't you tell Sandra how you first broke him down?' Anne suggested.

'Yes tell me,' Sandra urged.

'Perhaps that would be nice... but it's not very interesting for me since I know my own story already. First I want to hear how Sandra fared with making her man carry her, after last week's meeting.'

'I was straight onto his back as soon as we'd come in our front door,' Sandra said at once. 'Gillian, I remembered everything you said, you know when you said that the real pleasure of riding a man started when you have him close to collapse -'

'- and then make him carry you further, even so -'

'- exactly! Once I reached the sweet moment of his partial subsidence, my passion and confidence kept rising, so by the end I was really yelling at him to keep going and he was too breathless to reply and too browbeaten to say a word anyway.'

'Sounds like it was great!' Anne said.

'And now for Gillian's story.' said Sandra.

'Jacqui would you sit on his face again?' asked Gillian.

'Of course,' she said, moving back into position.

'It'd be nice to weaken him a bit further while I talk.' Gillian watched as Jacqui settled back onto him. 'Do you know, I wish they put out a range of perfumes for this activity, to apply to our nether regions. Not prissy perfumes, I mean scents like, say, "Industrial" or "City Dust".'

'Tell the story,' said Jacqui.

'OK OK. Well we started together as a fairly normalish couple that happened to have some kinky interests, always wanting to try things. I didn't dominate, but he worshipped my body from the start and I liked that. He was also into the body beautiful idea for himself, and that I didn't like, I wanted all his attention on me.'

'Quite right,' said Anne.

Gillian's man began to shift and writhe convulsively again, as he sought air. Jacqui remained calmly seated, obscuring most of his face.

'The first time I sat on him, Gillian said, 'was as a human furniture exercise. He was my cushion. He soon got impatient and asked me to get off, half joking but meaning it. But I didn't get off. Sitting on him wasn't any great pleasure for me at that stage but still I wanted to stay in place on him - just to explore it, to see what it could offer me, I suppose. I first really began to enjoy sitting on him while we talked, as I noticed the difficulty it gave him in speaking, while I spoke as easily as ever... that set something off in me.

'And that's when I began to realise that I wanted to dominate him. Not turn and turn about, not for fun, but seriously and all the time. I began to plan for it, quite coldly.'

Jacqui lifted herself from his face for a moment, settled back on him like a queen assuming the throne.

'Yes,' said Gillian, 'I became quite manipulative and artful. My great weapon was his worship of me, and I kept focussing him back on that, I used it to close down his interest in anything unrelated to me. And he didn't suffer from my new control, he was enjoying life more. Through me. He drank in my domination.

'Meanwhile I'd keep sitting on him from time to time, never entirely satisfied, until - at last! I realised what was missing. The problem was his heaviness and strength, it was getting in the way of the physical act of dominion.

'So I set about thinning him down. I controlled his diet, I imposed daylong fasts more and more often, and brought him down to a far more suitable condition.

'Until one day he rebelled. The crisis broke when I told him he always had to eat standing up. It was just one more way to put him off eating too much, but it really upset him for some reason. So it was our moment of truth.

'And oh god, oh god,' she said, and all at once her voice shifted, became higher and breathier as though she was ready to come. She began bouncing on him. 'Ohhh I just took it right up to him, I never conceded one inch. I just sat and sat on him, talked all the time and gave him orders all the time and whether he obeyed or not I kept filling him with my words, I must have got in seventy words to every one of his!' Sandra watched the shape and movement of Gillian's lips. 'And to him the sound of my voice was also the sound of my mind, pouring itself into his.'

Kath's man, who was lying flattened under her broad backside, now stired slightly beneath her. He swallowed.

'That's technically disobedience, from him,' Kath remarked. 'He's meant to be completely still and silent. But sometimes I indulge him. Gillian often has that affect on the men when she gets going.'

'If he stormed off,' Gillian continued, 'I followed him from room to room and if he tried to phone someone I'd break the call and if he went for the door I'd be there first. I knew he would never try to contest with me physically because his worship of me prevented that.'

'But if he really wanted to go,' Sandra broke in, 'what about his freedom of choice?' She asked this question reluctantly, fearing that it would not be well received by the group. In fact they all laughed.

'A man's mind is like the dial of clock, Sandra,' Anne said. 'They have a different attitude and emotion every hour of the day. At one time they might want to rebel, then in no time they'll be flat on the floor begging for forgiveness, or praising you for having stayed in the saddle while they were trying to buck you off. They can never step outside the feeling of the moment. But we can, we can see them as a whole all the time. That's why we know what they want and need better than they do. You should never give way to their whims and foolishness.'

'And you have to remember,' Gillian added, 'that as the relationship deepens we occupy more and more of our man's mind and being, we provide more and more of his joy and reason for living. They still kick up when we increase our domination, but the consequences of a real break with us become unthinkable to them, however hard we press them down. Our power over them goes on increasing. Why do you think we can talk about all this in front of them? Because they're so broken!'

'But just in theory - what if the man really persisted in refusing consent?' asked Sandra.

'If he still persisted,' said Gillian, more loudly, 'every woman of the group would bear down on him, one by one or together, maybe sweetly and maybe in a rage, but either way piling on the pressure for him to capitulate. Usually we sit one-to-one on our own partner, but the six of us, you included now, the six of us are always sitting together on the minds of each of our individual guys. Six onto one. That's a lot to buck off. It's too much.

'And if, hypothetically, if he did buck us all off, then goodbye - he'd have to leave us and go out into emptiness and desolation, and probably the ultimate panic attack and probably, unless we consented to let him return - suicide. Does that answer your question?'

'Entirely.'

'What you do,' said Anne, 'is play on the man, work on all the parts that adore you or crave domination, and stamp down the other parts. Sandra, you form an alliance with one part of him, the true, passionate, intense part of him, against the other, the superficial, cowardly, middle of the road, hypocritical - Kath!'

The whole body of Gillian's man had just surged up against the women on top of him, and now his legs too had begun to flail up dangerously.

'Right -' Kath sat across his legs - 'here'.

He subsided again completely.

Anne got off his arm, and signalled to Sandra to do the same.

'Your desperation for air is giving you energy,' she told him. 'Use it to give Jacqui pleasure.' Obedient again, his arms circled her thighs, his hands reached for her crotch. She began to writhe on him, moaning. The women all urged her on.

When at last she got off him, his face flopped to one side. Gillian lifted it upright at once, with one hand. She kissed his wet cheek, whispered something in his ear. Strands of her blonde hair strayed into his.

All this while Mandy had watched casually, sitting as usual with thighs spread over her own man. He was faced toward the scene, permitted to watch it as well, perhaps, but Sandra saw no sign that he had paid any attention to it, or indeed to anything else in the room except Mandy and her weight on top of him.

Chapter IV: Towards purity

Shortly before the next meeting was due, Sandra received a phone call from Mandy, who asked her to come to Anne's house half an hour early. 'I want to talk to you before it starts,' was all she would say. 'I've arranged it. Is that OK?' Sandra said yes to the invitation.

She wondered about it, however.

Toward the end of the last meeting, Mandy's man had begun behaving oddly: his hands had begun clenching and unclenching, lifting slightly and then flopping back down.

'Yes,' Mandy had said to the group, 'he's being disobedient. Fidgeting around when he knows his duty is to remain still when sat on.' Mandy glanced down at his face, which remained blank.

'I can't really get angry though,' she continued. 'It's just him getting desperate. I just go on getting heavier and he's lost a little more condition. And he gets sat on more and more. Anne sends me slaves to do the housework that he used to do, which was his main excuse to get out of being squashed.'

'Is the latest guy still working out OK?' asked Anne.

'Yeah, you're fantastic.'

'No, thank you. For road testing them. I have any number of males eager to do house-slavery for a woman like you. It's their quality I can't guarantee.'

'Do you think your partner is jealous of these new slaves?' Sandra inquired. Mandy shook her head.

'They might feel jealous of him. I wouldn't know. Anyway, the whole reason for the slaves is to release my man from housework so he can be sat on even more.' She took a gulp of coffee.

As Mandy was speaking, Anne sent her own man over to Sandra. He handed her a photograph. Sandra glanced over to Anne in acknowledgement; Anne smiled and raised an eyebrow. The photo was of Mandy sitting on her partner, hands on her thighs, elbows out: she appeared rather determined and grim, without the complacency that was habitual to her nowadays. The man's lostness, on the other hand, was familiar to Sandra. They both looked a lot younger: she was plump and curvaceous rather than fat, while compared to today he seemed almost solidly built. Sandra cast her eye over their present day selves.

'Your partner doesn't go to work, does he?'

'He stays home. He quit his job for me. Six years ago he sold everything he had and handed all his money over to me. I can live off what he earnt and invested.'

'Lucky thing. What did he do?'

'He was a lecturer in something.'

'In...?'

'I don't remember.'

'She does remember,' Anne said. 'And he was an Emeritus Professor.'

'It's not important,' Mandy said. Yeah, desperate,' she went on. 'Frantic. Of course I don't get off him when he twitches and acts up like that. I talk him through it, redirect his energies from futile fidgeting onto me and my pleasure, as per standard practice in these situations.

'The point is that I think he's only focussing on me about 90% of the time. That's my guess. The relationship is ready to move on, I want to make a serious attempt at a 100% focus.'

'He would definitely be happier that way,' Anne said.

'I'm going to squash that last ten percent out of him.'

At the end of the meeting, Mandy's man had fainted soon after standing up: he twirled for a moment as though beginning a dance, and then fell flat on the floor.

'That's an act,' Mandy said at once. 'He'll be sat on more than ever for that.'

'How is his general health?' Sandra asked.

'Mandy and I had him checked out. A bit of internal bruising,' Kath put in. 'Nothing major. We suspect the bruising was just from me bouncing on him.'

Anne helped him to his feet a few moments later. Nothing more was said of the incident.

It had stayed in Sandra's mind, though. She noted that none of the other women had supported Mandy's explanation of his collapse. On the other hand, they hadn't shown any concern about him either.

Answers may soon follow, Sandra thought, as she went up to Anne's front door, followed by her own man.

Kath's partner let them in. Mandy and Kath were waiting in the loungeroom. At first Kath was not on her partner, who was unobtrusively bringing in trays of refreshments. His 'invisibilty' once again intrigued and stimulated Sandra: she marked how Kath rarely looked at him, how she took a drink from his hand without acknowledgement and without breaking the flow of her conversation. But when he had finished his work he knelt by her couch. She rose for a moment, he lay on the couch, and she sat on him.

And as Sandra had expected, Mandy's thighs were spread over her man in her usual position. He appeared to be back to his normal quiescent self.

'I never once got off him during any of those bouts of twitching,' Mandy said proudly. 'He hasn't done any twitching and fideting for three days. I think it was all an act. But I've broken the resistance. I've reached a new level of domination. I've won the latest round, just like all the earlier ones. He's thoroughly squashed.'

'And your relationship continues to get closer and deeper,' Sandra said.

'And,' Mandy added, 'he's just voluntarily reduced his free time to three twenty-minute breaks a day. He has to fit in all his physical needs, including all his eating and drinking, within those times.'

'Often you find,' Kath said, leaning forward on her own man, 'that after a phase of resistance you enter a period of very sweet compliance, when your man is full of apologies to you and gratitude that you didn't give way to his disobedience. Those compliant phases are a real opportunity to crush him down to a new level of submission. You can create new precedents and standards and expectations.'

'Kath's playing more of a role now, in my relationship,' Mandy said. 'The thing is, I've reached a point where any more sitting on my partner would interfere with the rest of my life. I mean, when you're sitting on your man you can eat, read, talk, chat online, watch TV, but there's plenty of other things to do and I'm beginning to find all my time on him a bit confining.'

'And the other thing is, any more time on him and I'd start to get pressure sores. That would be very distressing to him. He can't bear the thought of my feeling any discomfort.

But he needs to be sat on more not less. So Kath's been taking my place.'

'I'm there as Mandy's proxy,' Kath said, 'not as a second lover. When I'm on him I do everything Mandy's way now, sitting still rather than bouncing, and full weight on his stomach and chest. And I don't speak much.'

'I'm not like the other women in the group,' Mandy said to Sandra. 'As a general rule I don't fill my man's head with talk. When we're alone together there are long silences. I find my dominion is purer that way. I just cover his mind entirely with the experience of my weight. Steady, ongoing, at the limit of what he can take, and there all the time.'

'Does he ever complain of aches and pains?' Sandra asked.

'Yeah. Well no, I wouldn't say complain but he mentions them. Up to a point I can use them as a way to keep him focussed. But beyond a certain point pain interferes, it turns his attention away from me onto himself. So I'll move position now and then to reduce his aches. I go onto his neck and head a bit more, maybe do some smothering. It's my weight I want him to feel - me - not physical pain.'

Mandy slapped her thighs. 'Anyway, I want to stretch for a while. Do you want to have a try of my man?' she asked Sandra.

'I'd love to!' Sandra found herself saying.

'Come over.'

Mandy did not stir. Sandra guessed that she wanted to minimise the interval in which her partner was without a woman on him, so she swung onto him just as Mandy was standing up, using the method she had seen employed by Kath.

'Quite well done,' Kath remarked.

'Kath and I will go find Anne,' Mandy said. 'Can we take your man with us?'

'By all means,' Sandra said. He followed them from the room.

Leaving Sandra alone with Mandy's partner.

Since meeting him, Sandra had wondered what he would be like beneath her. As it turned out, she was unprepared for just how much smaller, thinner and frailer he felt than her own man - and she was unprepared for its affect on her. As soon as she sank into him, noticeably flattening his stomach and chest, she experienced her own ass, thighs, hips, her whole body, in a new way. She felt wonderfully good about her flesh. Any remaining embarassment at having a big body was gone, it was a million miles away. She did feel a residual guilt about what she was doing, but it was almost immediately overcome by a powerful and raw desire to continue sitting. And suddenly she looked forward to fattening up further.

Yes, she was unprepared for the sheer amount of pleasure she was feeling. Where was it from? The man, of course. It was as if she were drawing up his energy, his vital life force, into herself, storing it within herself as a feeling of pure wellbeing. And she was feeding something back to him. She was not returning the vitality he had surrendered to her. She was giving him something else entirely: an inescapable, torrential, ecstacy-inducing onslaught of herself - not as Sandra, not as a proxy-Mandy, but as Woman.

She felt the faint lift of his ribcage under her full weight. His chest was barely managing to push up the heavy, complacent flesh of her thighs, was only just managing to supply oxygen to his body. So close to complete loss of air, and thus potentially the loss of life, he was passing through an overwhelming experience of her with every breath. Now and then she saw the minute stirrings of his fingers, or heard the very faint sound of his breath.

She closed her eyes, returning to the contemplation of herself and the man under her, the different strands of their engagement. In his earlier years his life must have held many different experiences, tastes, satisfactions; now he subsisted purely on Woman. Yes, adoration of Woman was there, in both of them, she as Goddess he as supplicant. But intertwined with the adoration was suffering. If he did not suffer there would be no sacrifice, no offering up of himself, no bond, no true connection. His suffering, and her awareness of it, formed the channel through which she drew up his life forces into herself.

She imagined the contradiction within him - on the one hand, there was his hunger for her and his longing to please her; on the other, there was his desperation to escape back to former freedoms, or simply to breathe again. The contradiction paralysed him. She, the woman above him, was not paralysed. She was able to decide whether to continue their engagement or to free him, and she continually made the decision to stay sitting on him. It was all so delicious.

Experimentally she leant forward a little, shifting some of the pressure on him from her bottom to her thighs. She felt him squishing under her, felt his breath forced out. She shifted her weight back onto her bottom.

At that moment Mandy and Kath returned with and Anne. They startled Sandra, so deep was she in her own reverie and her exploration of contact.

She could not afterwards recall the small talk that went on at this point. She remembered her reluctance to get off Mandy's man. But most of all she remembered the moment when Mandy herself once again sank onto him.

It had seemed to Sandra a miracle that he was able to endure her own weight; Mandy was a great deal heavier. And this went on all the time! He was quite simply her pancake. Now that Mandy had had her break, she was likely to remain on him for hours.

'Well, did you like him?' Mandy asked.

Sandra found that she could not reply, and was alarmed by the strength of the feelings flowing through her.

'When I was first on him,' Kath said, 'I must admit to wanting him for myself. It's a waste of time Sandra. He thinks of Mandy and only Mandy. So we can all relax about that.'

'Yes. Yes,' was all Sandra could say.

'But what we would like,' Mandy said, 'is for you to play a support role along with Kath. She can't spare me any more time, and like I say, I really want him sat on a lot more.'

'I'll do it,' Sandra said.

'Thought you would. You'll need to put on more weight, that's all.'

'One thing I do feel after sitting on your man,' Sandra said - she actually felt almost drunk now, and was emboldened by Kath's swift, shrewd and reassuring summary of the situation she was in - 'is a great store of bitchiness that I'll discharge on my own unsuspecting partner.'

'We left him scrubbing the kitchen floor,' said Anne.

'It can wait. I'll store it up for later.'

'Bitching is recommended,' Anne went on, 'You should be completely relaxed about it. In fact it's very important for your emotional health.'

'Yes, never feel guilty about it,' Gillian added, as she came down the steps from the hall followed by her man, for it was now time for the official meeting to start. 'Leave guilt behind.'

Gillian still wore her driving glasses. Momentarily Sandra was glad to see something detracting from Gillian's conventionally perfect face - but then she felt annoyed with herself for such disloyalty. After all, every form of womanly beauty was given equal recognition within the group.

'And forget "bitch" as an insult,' Anne added. It's never used as an insult within our group.'

'Bitching is a healthy transference from you to your partner,' Gillian said. 'By making them so emotionally dependent on us we've also made them very open to the impact of bitching. You'll find you can make your man feel wretched very easily and quickly.'

'It shouldn't be reduced to a game where he never feels pain, either. You should draw blood every time,' Anne said.

'It's for the release of your stress,' said Gillian. 'To purify yourself. When you're stressed toxins build up in your body. Good bitching means you create stress in him. You'll find that very soothing. So your toxins dissipate just as his are building up. What it amounts to is a direct discharge of all your emotional waste products into him. Into his body.'

'And when you feel like it you can lift him up again into the happiness of your approval,' said Jacqui, who had also just arrived. 'You can use your power to raise him to the heights of happiness. But only when you feel like it.'

'Bitching is just one more form of suffering they have to experience from us,' Gillian said, 'so that we can provide them with the special serene joy of submission through total focus on their woman.'

'Yes I'm sometimes jealous of that joy,' Anne said.

'What can you do, the grass is always greener,' said Kath.

'I wouldn't exchange the pleasure of squashing down my man for anything in this world,' Mandy said.

'But getting back to the point,' said Anne '- we're meant to be teaching something to Sandra! Look, millions and millions of women bitch at their men every single day. But combining it with physical acts, like the act of prolongued sitting and squashing, makes bitching so much more complete and powerful.'

It's especially therapeutic when you're just home from work,' Kath added. 'Lie him down, sit on him, bitch at him, discharge the day's frustrations.'

'You talked about emotional waste,' Sandra said.

'Oh, and physical,' Anne replied at once. 'Don't feel restrained! We often give our men golden showers. I have a bathroom set up for it here.'

'We often do it before and after going out with them, to dinner, say,' said Jacqui. 'And when we go out in a group we tend to use each other's men, for variety. It's often done in darkness, so the they don't know who they're receiving from.'

'But the most valuable use of golden showers,' Gillian said, 'is when he gets visits from relatives or old friends and so on. Those people are always such a nuisance, they can really disturb his focus and leave him restless and confused and out of sync for days. It's very effective to apply a golden shower to his face as soon as possible before the visit - ideally just moments before they arrive, so he's washing it away just as they walk through the door.'

'And he should be made aware that another shower will be applied the moment the guests have gone,' Kath said. 'He should see you drinking a lot of fluid during their visit.'

'That way he's not really there for his guests,' said Gillian. 'Because you've focussed him on yourself the visitors find him remote and disengaged. That helps you to control the conversation with these pests, and crowd him out of it, until they go.'

'It's very valuable to combine golden showers with bitching,' Anne said. 'It's very good to talk at him the whole time that you're delivering onto his face. It doesn't have to be severe, as long as it's bitching and it's coming from you and filling his ears while he's receiving you.'

'As a matter of fact, Sandra,' Kath said slowly, 'showers are also used by us as a group initiation when new men come into our circle - when we're sure that his woman is really one of us. Do you think...?'

'Let me call him in!'

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.'

Chapter 6: Crisis

'It's nothing against you,' Jacqui said, her voice thinned by the telephone, yet retaining some of its Eastern European flavour. 'But I want say goodbye to the old group, as I've known it for years - talk a bit about old times, say a few words to the men too. I don't want you to feel hurt that you weren't asked to come.'

'I'm just sad it's happening,' Sandra said. 'I never really got to know you properly.'

'I've led a very contradictory life in recent times. You know how intense the group is. My partner and I just feel that to stay in the group any more - the femdom passion would just devour us both, and we want to hold on to the mainstream side of our relationship as well.'

'Are you sure about what you're doing?'

There was a long pause.

'No. I'm paralysed by indecision... not a good dominatrix am I.'

'You shouldn't talk like that about yourself. Self-criticism must be forbidden in the Rules somewhere.'

Jacqui laughed softly. 'I'm sure it is.' Abruptly her tone changed. 'Someone is coming into my house. Goodbye, Sandra.'

'Jacqui?'

'I must go.'

Jacqui replaced the receiver just as Gillian strode into the room. Despite her suprise, and despite the crisis engulfing her, Jacqui was struck first of all by the identical coloring of Gillian's eyes and pants, as though they'd been painted from the same palette. Why notice such a thing, at such a time? she wondered. The colours of Gillian seemed to glow, like the colours of flowers and plants at the onset of a storm.

'How did you get in?

'I have your key. You once gave it to me in case of emergency, don't you remember? This is the emergency.'

Gillian turned swiftly, to find Jacqui's man standing in the doorway, looking at her uncertainly.

'You - into the bedroom!' Gillian yelled. He looked down at Jacqui, who averted her face; then did as he'd been told.

As soon as he'd gone Gillian knelt before Jacqui, like a gentleman about to propose. She seized Jacqui's head in her hands, kissed both her cheeks. 'I won't let this happen to you,' Gillian said, her eyes cold, jewell-like, wild. 'You are a wonderful woman. Infinitely deserving of male subservience. But you don't know how to press down hard on the lever of power. Hence this crisis. You leave him to me. When I've finished with him he'll be yours again, yours more than ever before.'

Gillian swung open the door of the bedroom, where she found him staring out the window, fingers on the sill.

'Onto the bed,' she said. He turned to face her, opened his mouth to speak, but swift beyond belief she was there with her long, fine hand over his mouth. 'Not a word,' she whispered. He noticed the flush over her high cheekbones, filled with the same anger as her voice, and for the first time he became afraid. 'Onto the bed,' she said again. 'Your head right at the end.'

As soon as he obeyed she sat on his face, took off her shoes, unslung her belt, unzipped, then stood again to remove her jeans and panties.

'You will recall,' she said calmly, 'your begging requests to me to perform a certain act on you, which I refused, telling you that it was for Jacqui to do, if anyone, and that in my opinion it was simply too dangerous for you... You are now going to receive it from me.'

The phone rang. Sandra rushed to it. It was Anne.

With a gesture Sandra ordered her man onto the floor. Impatiently she pushed down his shoulder to flatten him more quickly, then straddled his stomach.

'There's an emergency meeting at my place as soon as you can get here,' Anne said.

'What about Jacqui?'

'She's here. Gillian took Jacqui's naughty man man to a hospital, but apparently he's OK now. Gillian says she'll be here with him shortly.'

Sandra was met at the door by Mandy's man, who immediately bowed his head. Despite her impatient curiosity about Jacqui's crisis, Sandra was distracted, and eyed him greedily. If he was not under Mandy, she thought, there'd be a good chance of sitting on him herself; and by his deferential, defeated manner he seemed to understand that his ribs would soon be bent, the air in his chest expelled, and the shape of his stomach flattened beneath the woman he was now admitting to the house.

As she entered Anne's meeting room Sandra was aware, first of all, of a calm, or rather stillness, over everything. It had something of the quality of a medieval royal court in Europe or the Near East. Then the details took form: the women were seated not on cushions but on prostrated men.

Mandy and Kath sat side by side, displaying a magnificent expanse of bare female thigh, on Jacqui's partner, crushing him under their combined weight. His arms were slack, his head was pinned down hard on one side. He was utterly unmoving. The sight struck Sandra as fundamentally satisfying, complete in itself, lacking nothing.

On another couch sat Gillian and Jacqui, also close together, on top of the still body of Gillian's man.

'It's all OK now Sandra,' Gillian said, in the tone of a surgeon declaring: 'the patient is now out of danger'.

Sandra suddenly remembered Mandy's small man, who was standing silently at her side, head still down, as though awaiting orders.

'Yes take him to the spare couch and sit on him, will you,' Mandy called across the room. Sandra and the man both complied quickly, although with different degrees of enthusiasm. Since late morning he been free from a heavy woman's weight on him, and it was now mid afternoon. Not for years had he enjoyed such a long break from being sat on, except during sleep. Now - just as he was beginning to remember what freedom felt like, and long-forgotten impulses oncemore began to stir - he was once again squashed down under the all-too-familiar pressure of a big woman's thighs and ass; once again, a woman's body and voice took over from all other experiences; and now everything, even his own thoughts, once again went hazy for him, except for his clear and continuous awareness of the body and voice of Sandra on top of him, and the presence of the other women around the room.

'I've had another victory over my man,' Mandy went on. 'You remember how he's agreed to limit his personal time to three twenty-minute breaks a day? Well, he started off using some of all three breaks to eat and drink. That's been so irritating! I can't risk squashing him down until he digests, which creates at least an extra 20 minutes for him without being sat on after each break. He can be very calculating.

'But now , after I applied a certain amount of pressure, he's agreed to reduce his midday break to 5 minutes, with no food and just a sip of water. '

'Thats marvellous!' Sandra exclaimed.

'Mandy you're very generous help us,' Gillian said. 'And Kath too. But Mandy - just when you've been making real progress in pushing down your man to a much deeper level of submission, it must be hard to give him up for hours at a time to help us. We really owe you for helping us. But we had to ask...

'Sandra, ' Gillian went on, 'we should explain what's happening. Jacqui and I have agreed to swap partners for a while... while I break down her man. Mandy and Kath are indispensable in providing Jacqui's man with a new experience of life. This sort of heavy female sitting should have happened to him long ago, he's had far too much freedom and it's only confused him and corrupted his thinking. The experience of heavy and prolonged sitting from Mandy and Kath combined is part of my therapy for him. I'm also fasting him, which will lead into a very strict ongoing diet. He's vowed to complete silence and when he's not in a meeting he'll be listening to my voice or Jacqui's all the time. When we're not actually talking I'll be playing my voice on tape to him.'

'You'd make such a good professional,' Anne remarked. Gillian lowered her eyes as a demure, cat-with-the-cream smile spread over her face. Anne continued, addressing the room: 'she's so self-disciplined. She takes a real interest in a man's deep longings, she explores and investigates and probes - but only in the interests of femdom, only to learn how to harness him and ride him down.'

Gillian leapt to her feet and began to pace back and forth.

'I'd love to lecture in it at a university! The first step, students,' she added, imitating a professorial tone, 'is to close down all argument.' She sat back down next to Jacqui, then with a playful bounce on the man's stomach resumed speaking normally. 'It is really the greatest bore in the world to have to argue with a man, and such an indignity. The man has to learn that argument is intolerable, and if necessary you have to put your whole relationship on the line to crush the argument out of him. So girls, gather up all your resources, all his longings and all his devotion, throw them on the table and gamble them as your winning hand. If you can't win that fight, then he's really just dirt to be swept away.

'But once the arguments stop - I mean there might still be a rare dispute at a critical moment - but when the routine disputes stop, then your progress becomes a lot smoother. Your voice has to fill his mind, coolly and continually; it's important to keep ordering him to do things, however small, all the time, to instil obedience as second nature.

'Once the arguments are eliminated, secrets are the next thing that has to go. Especially secrets involving other people he still deals with, and especially people he works with, or people whom he meets during the working day. It's too demeaning to keep tabs on him at work, you have to achieve psychological control, he has to know that disobedience would mean losing you - but also that anything can be forgiven through a full and frank confession. And you have to mean than when you say it.

'Once you've reduced his physical strength and energy levels, and eliminated arguments and secrets, he's more or less at your mercy. But his working life remains a major issue. You have to be as strong a presence at his workplace as you can - again, without demeaning yourself. You should know everyone of significance to him at work, and know what they mean to him, what sort of dealings he has with them. That way he commits himself, and is less tempted to hold secrets.

'It goes without saying that domestic spending should be all in your hands. Not the fixed assets necessarily, but all disposable income. He should have no free cash to play with, not even to buy a matchbox or newspaper, that you don't know about.

'And remember too, no guilt. You're doing him the greatest favour he'll ever receive in his life.'

Chapter 7: Death

'We all have to go sometime,' Kath said, 'but women normally outlast their men. I'm sure we all will.' The women all sat around Anne's loungeroom - on their men, as usual, but it was the new, more complicated configuration, with Mandy and Kath together on Jacqui's old partner, who was now controlled by Gillian; Gillian and Jacqui on Gillian's former man, now given over to Jacqui; and Sandra seated upon Mandy's partner.

'Let's write the death notices now,' Anne said. 'They'll be the same. '"He passed away peacefully under his wife's bottom."' They all laughed.

'And if there's any justice in the afterlife,' Kath said, leaning down to speak at the man squashed under her, 'they'll wake up to find themselves sat on again. In exactly the same position as when life left off.'

'For ever and ever,' Anne said. 'World without end.'

'One thing I have definitely demanded,' Mandy said, 'is that he forget everything before me. in fact his first memory is not even our first meeting, but the first experience of being sat on by me. He takes it from there.'

Sandra stared at her in astonishment. She'd thought she was over the stage of being surprised at anything these women said, but obviously this was not so. She looked at the others. They didn't seem to find Mandy's comment strange.

After a while Anne stirred.

'Sandra doesn't get it,' she remarked. Turning to Sandra she said, 'Sorry. We've accepted you so well as one of us that we can easily forget all the things you still don't understand.

'The fact is, over the months and years that Mandy has sat on that man of hers, it's not only his body that's grown more frail, his personality and mind are now much weaker too - I mean, in one sense they're weaker. He's much weaker as an independent entity. The idea of doing anything that would displease her becomes not just wrong, but a source of absolute panic.'

'He knows I don't want him to think back before my first session on him,' Mandy said.

'But you can't stop -'

'Oh yeah, I can,' Mandy said. 'He knows that he's not mentally strong enough any more to hold back any of his thoughts from me. He knows that if he thinks about things he's not supposed to, he'll end up confessing it to me, and that I'll be very angry at him, not play acting but real cold and real angry.'

'Which is unbearable to any of our guys,' said Anne. 'So you'll find he is obedient to us inside his head as well as in what he says and does. So in a way his life really did begin when Mandy first sat on him.'

'We know how their minds work,' Gillian added, 'because we've queried each of our men in depth, both under very relaxed conditions and also under duress, and we've found the same pattern in all of them. You wouldn't know about it yet. It's our discovery of how men become after extended, deep domination.'

'It leaves them terribly vulnerable,' Jacqui said. 'But that's all right, because we care for them... my man never reached that stage with me, but he's rapidly falling into it now.' Jacqui and Sandra glanced over at him, slack and still - and becoming noticeably thinner now, in the face and legs, which was all that could be seen of him under Mandy and Kath.

'But you once told me,' Sandra persisted, 'when Mandy's guy was right there and able to listen, that he once had an independent life before meeting her, as an academic -'

'That was for your information,' Anne replied. 'If he was listening at all - which I doubt, because he was probably focussed entirely on Mandy - but if he was listening, those words going into his head would have hit a barrier, the forbidden memory would have gone out again like a match on wet paper.'

'You're lucky, Sandra,' Gillian said, in the pause that followed. 'I know you've come a long way, but you still have before you, still to come, the beauty and the pure delicious power of complete domination.

'Scrap by scrap, particle by particle, your man lets go of every critical thought about his women, until even the thought of the possibility of being critical of her has gone too. Her personality is the world. But her body too is beyond critique. The mole on her cheek is just another part of his reality; the cellulite on her thighs is just another part of the richness and fulfilment of her full weight on him.

'The thought of being in pain is gone, the thought of being in discomfort no longer occurs, the thought of boredom after prolongued immobility under your thighs and ass simply never happens because his mind is doing nothing more than receiving the sensations from your body as you shift slightly or tense or relax a muscle, his mind is doing no more than receiving your voice as a cool steadily flowing current. Until you activate the program inside him that wakes him up for housework or for leaving the house to go to his job. You have focused him on you completely for worship and completely occupy his thoughts. His previously personality collapses into dust. You burn ever more brightly and beautifully as the other lights inside him dim, flicker and go out.'

'Gillian you were born to talk,' Mandy said, looking flushed. 'After hearing all that I've just got to get back on my man for a while. And after the meeting, I don't mind telling you, I'll be on his face.'

Sandra stood as Mandy came over, and allowed Mandy to resume her usual place on the body of her small partner.

Once she was settled on him she became calmer. 'His new diet is coming along nicely. In the morning it's a few raw oats and cold water. At night he cooks up brown rice and eats it cold with alfalfa sprouts. That's all he gets, the same meal day after day. Except that I'm reducing the quantities at both meals very slowly but steadily, grain by grain, each day. And with each reduction of food I sit on him sooner and sooner after the meal. A minute or two sooner each time.

'He eats quickly, standing up. I don't like seeing him eat, so I leave the room. But I don't give him the chance to drift off either. I play him a tape of my voice, saying plenty of stuff to remind him about all the times I've sat on him and in memory of the sheer amount of time I've sat on him... and - 'she lifted her upper lip - 'in anticipation of the next time, no further away than the next ten or fifteen minutes. I remind him that it'll go on for hour after hour, and that it'll go on for the rest of his life.'

She sighed. 'Unfortunately we've reached a stage when I just can't spare him any more time. I have a life to lead, lots of other things to do, and anyway I don't want pressure sores. So I'm relying on my dear friends Kath and Sandra to help out,' she said, smiling at them in turn.

'Yeah, we have a roster,' Kath said. Between us we cover every possible moment he can be sat on. We read, talk, eat, watch TV. It takes up time, but I mean it's not exactly unpleasant is it.'

'It's wonderful,' Sandra said. On a sudden impulse she came over to kneel beside Mandy.

'May I?' Sandra put her hand on the flattened chest of Mandy's man, the length of her forefinger pushed up against the spreading flesh of Mandy's thigh. Again she realised that for all her adoration of this woman, the lust she felt wasn't for Mandy herself, it was arousal at the astonishingly complete victory Mandy had achieved over that feeble man of hers.

'Come up here too,' Mandy said warmly.' Mandy moved down, and Sandra lost no time in sitting on his lower stomach and hips; she let herself sink onto him, intensely aware of the weight of Mandy immediately beside her - all on top of him.

'We should never get off him,' Sandra said.

'We never have to,' said Mandy. Sandra recalled, with bemusement, her first meeting with the group, when sitting on a man still made her feel uneasy and guilty.

'Kath! You too!' Mandy said.

'All at once?' Kath asked, doubtfully.

'All at once.'

Kath got up and came over, leaving the man under her free from a woman's weight.

Gillian observed them with annoyance. She had not expected her philosophising about domination, delivered off the cuff, to arouse Mandy enough to make her forget her committment to help in the man's suppression - and now she had dragged Kath over too, leaving the man free from female weight at a critical stage in his subjection.

Gillian leapt up and went over to him. Realising that she would feel feather-light on his chest or stomach after the heaviness of Mandy and Kath, she sat on his face instead, in the reverse position, toward his chest, one cheek firmly down on each side of his nose.

'I want a photo of the three of us,' Mandy declared excitedly. 'How about it Anne?'

It was as though an intoxicating fluid was flowing straight into Sandra's veins as Mandy, on his chest, organised their positioning. There was heat on the surface of Sandra's skin, ecstacy beneath it.

'Kath you'll have to be right up on his neck and head. Yeah, the thigh should spread over the top of his head. That's great. That's perfect. Oh look at her everyone! Kath's spreading from over the top of his head to his collarbone. How are we going to get all three onto him? We've got to do it. Kath I'll lay one leg over your thigh, is that OK? Not uncomfortable? Sandy now you come up close to me, no don't go onto his hips and legs, that's all bone and muscle, that's too easy on him! Shift all the weight you can onto your left, on his stomach - yeah, onto his belly, so he really feels it. Oh god we've done it! Look at us! All on him!'

'All on him full weight,' said Kath.

'This just feels wonderful!' Sandra cried, pressed up against Mandy but concentrating on the small, squashed male body beneath them.

Anne had reappeared with a camera and was bending low with it thrust before her, trying a number of different angles, taking an occasional snap.

'Pull his arm out more,' she said, 'you can hardly tell anyone's underneath, it's all woman. That's better. They have to know he's there. That's fan-tas-tic! Congratulations!' She stood back, as though expecting the women to move, but Mandy was in no mood to.

'I want a good bitch session on him now,' she said, and while the three heavy women all sat she proceeded to berate him for three or four minutes. Sandra did not believe he would be able to hear her words with Kath's massive thigh over his ear, though he might have been able to pick up her tone. But the real purpose, Sandra suspected, was simply to prolongue their session.

'OK,' Anne said at the end.

'No I want Kath to start now,' Mandy said. Kath took to it immediately.

Despite herself Sandra began to feel nervous. There was no sense of movement at all beneath her - not that much could have been managed. But she noticed that Anne and Gillian both seemed uneasy, and that their eyes met several times.

'And now Sandra,' Mandy said as soon as Kath finished. Despite her doubts, when the moment came Sandra seized her chance to abuse him in turn, as loudly and as long as the others.

'That's it now,' Anne said, when at last Sandra could find nothing more to say.

'There's no rush,' Mandy said.

'No, I say that's it. I'm the professional here.'

Reluctantly Mandy arose, then the other two. A titanic weight of woman lifted off him.

Anne nudged him hard with the toe of her shoe. He didn't move. She stamped her heel down hard on his upper arm.

He shuddered and stirred. Sandra had a sense of him returning from a vast distance.

'You rat!' Anne cried at him. 'How dare you scare me!' She dragged him from the low couch onto the floor and began stamping with ferocity on each of his arms, hands and shoulders. He winced and jolted with each blow but did not resist.

'Mandy I owe you an apology,' Anne said at last, 'for being so high handed.'

'It's him that should be sorry,' Mandy said, 'and he will be. What a dirty trick.'

'Are you sure it was a trick?' Sandra asked.

'Without a doubt,' Mandy said. She turned to Sandra with a rich, warm smile. 'There'll be more of what we just did.'

Mandy ordered him back onto the couch and plumped herself down on him again.

'Do the scratch,' she told him. Obediently he raised one hand, trembling, and with one finger traced a small white line, less than an inch long, on the side of her bare thigh. After a moment the flesh returned to pink. 'There,' she announced. 'Our safety sign. I'm proud to say he's never once used it to get me off him. It's only for emergencies, he's never misused it just to escape me. He was really tempted a while ago - that's what his twitching episode a week or two ago was all about. But he never weakened.

'The pair of us know exactly what we're doing,' she continued. 'As his suffering grows so does his passion for me, and, just like Gillian or Anne would say, his spiritual fulfilment grows with them. We're both in it together. Look, all of us here know that thing that happens - I mean, when the men try to escape, and we pin them anyway, and they thank us later. Well, between him and me that thing is already pretty extreme, but extreme or not, it's only going to get deeper.' With those words she finished speaking, but her weight on him went on and on.