By Ethan Grey
Copyright ©1995, Ethan Grey (firstname.lastname@example.org) All rights reserved by the author. Do not repost without the consent of the author. This file may not used for any commercial or institutional purpose or reproduced in any form whether physical or electronic without the written consent of the author. Individuals may download this file for private, noncommercial use only. Removal of this header constitutes a violation of copyright.
I called her before I left the office on Friday afternoon.
"Hello," she answered
"Oh, Master, I'm so glad you called. How are you? When do you think you'll get here?"
"I'm fine. I'll be leaving in just a few minutes. Two hours . . . that'll make itabout 7:15. Are you ready?"
"Yes, Master, I can't wait."
"Good. What are you wearing?"
"Nothing, Master, as you directed."
"Just the collar, Master."
"Fix some sandwiches and a salad for dinner, then put on your "uniform" and wait for me in the living room."
"Bye now. See you in a couple hours."
"Bye, Master. I love you."
"I love you too, slut." Click.
We were living apart that summer. She was finishing her degree at the university, and I had gotten a job in another city, about a hundred miles away. We decided that she was to be my slave for the summer. That sounds a little strange, since I was going to be in another city most of the time, but would allow us to keep up the scene for an extended period without the pressure of maintaining our Master and slave roles full time.
The ground rules were pretty straightforward:
she could go about her daily business as usual. Her classes, her workouts
at the athletic center, getting together with friends, were not to be affected
by her slavery. When she got home, though, and full time on weekends,
she was under my orders.
She was to always address me as "Master." She was to recognize that she was a nameless slave, and I'd call her whatever I pleased, but never her name.
In our apartment, she was to always wear her collar, a one inch wide black leather dog collar that I had gotten her the previous Christmas, and nothing else. She was so comfortable with nudity, though, that simply having her stay naked didn't seem like a sufficient reminder to her of her slavery. She had always slept nude, and preferred nude beaches and an all-over tan.
We decided that she would also keep her pubic hair shaved. The morning after I had shaved her the first time, she stood drying her hands after washing dishes. She wore only the collar. I asked how it made her feel.
"Naked," she said with a chuckle and tossed her head, her straight red-blonde hair swinging around her shoulders. "And proud. I may be a slave and a slut, but I'm YOUR slut."
The whiteness of the newly shaved triangle was such a contrast to the deep tan elsewhere that her cunt almost seemed to glow. Her private parts were now a much more prominent part of her anatomy; just the effect I had intended.
On the way into town, I stopped at my favorite adult shop to get
a surprise for her. They had the new issue of "Naked Bondage" on display
so I picked that up, then went back to the toy corner.
They were hanging between the ball gags and a display of vibrators: two alligator clips connected by about eight inches of fine chrome-plated chain. The teeth were covered with plastic, and each clip had a screw to adjust the opening and pressure. We already had one pair of similar clamps, but these were slightly smaller. Exactly what I was looking for.
My stop at the adult shop made me a few minutes late. I unlocked
our front door at 7:30. She was kneeling, face to the carpet, about
eight feet directly in front of the door. Anyone walking by in the
breezeway could have easily seen her through the open door. In front of
her spread knees, in a bucket of ice, was a bottle of Korbel champagne and
beside it a single champagne glass.
"Up." I said, closing the door behind me and setting down my overnight bag.
She swung her body upright and looked me in the face. Her knees were spread wide apart on the carpet and her cunt positively beamed at me.
"Slut, you just might be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
She had gone far beyond my orders to demonstrate her submission. The "uniform" I had told her to wear was her minimal "slave around the house" restraints: her collar, matching wrist and ankle cuffs, and two twelve inch chromed chains connecting wrist-to-wrist and ankle-to-ankle. She was able to do housework in the uniform, but just barely.
She had started with the uniform, but cuffed her wrists behind her without the separating chain. Her leash was tied around a post that supported the stereo stand and clipped to her collar. She had inserted her favorite gag, a short rubber penis on a black leather strap. And she was wearing our original, larger, set of alligator clips, one on each nipple. The screws were backed all the way out, so she felt the full pressure of the spring-loaded teeth. I knew that with the clips applied like that her nipples soon went from painful to unbearable to numb. She smiled at me, if it's possible to smile around a gag that big.
I untied the leash from the post and said, "You may rise."
She bowed face down again, her hair dragging the floor, then slowly struggled to her feet.
I removed the gag first, reaching behind her to pull the strap through its rings.
"Thank you, Master." She was breathless, almost whispering, with a slight, brittle edge of pain in her voice.
"Do you want me to take off the nipple clamps?"
"If it pleases you, Master." The exact, correct response.
I was overwhelmed. She had always been enthusiastic about our games, but never before had she thrown herself so totally into submission. I had been gone only five days, but in that time, it seemed that she had determined to become the perfect slave.
I quickly squeezed open a clip, releasing her left nipple. "Ssssssss." She sucked air between her teeth, grimaced. The beginning of tears appeared in her eyes. I squeezed the other clip and dropped both in the floor with their chain. "Ssssssss, oooooohhh." The sucking turned into a faint cry as her knees buckled and she slid down my legs to the floor.
"Thank you, Master," she gasped. "I..I..I..I just came." She leaned against my knees and with her lips gently caressed my penis through my pants.
"Will you stop that?"
"It doesn't please you, Master?"
"It pleases me just fine, but I need to get settled in."
"Yes, Master, how may I help you?"
Again, she bowed face down to the floor and struggled shakily to her feet. Grabbing her shoulders, I spun her around and unclipped the wrist cuffs from behind her back.
"Chain your wrists in front, then unpack my bag."
"Yes, Master." As she bent down for my overnight bag, still sitting next to the front door, she positioned herself to make sure I had a clear view of her anus and her shaved cunt from the rear. With tiny, shuffling steps, she took my bag to the bedroom. I swatted her ass lightly with my hand as she passed.
I picked up the champagne in its bucket and the single glass. I crossed the room and sat on our sofa, then for the first time since arriving, looked around the room.
The apartment was small, with a twelve by sixteen living room separated from a minimal kitchen and dining area by a counter. A short hallway led past the bathroom to our bedroom and a second bedroom we used as an office.
She had pulled the coffee table back against the front window by the door in anticipation of our games. She also knew that she would serve as my coffee table for the weekend, holding or retrieving anything I desired.
Just in front of the coffee table, she had laid out every bit of our bondage clothing, toys and devices in neat rows, sorted by type and use. And she had added some household items that she thought might be useful. There were gags, both purchased and homemade. There were straps and harnesses, a black satin corset, a red and black half-bra, several neat coils of rope in various lengths and a brand new package of clothes pins. There were a variety of dildos, vibrators and plugs. There was a set of spreader bars, homemade from dowels and screw eyes; a couple whips, a short leather cat and one of knotted nylon cord, and a pink plastic fly swatter.
She soon shuffled back into the hallway, her hands now connected in front of her by a twelve inch chain.
"Get a saucer from the kitchen, then come here."
"As you wish, Master."
Her movement across the room was slow, almost painfully so, but the sight of her, nude and hobbled, as she attempted to scurry to do my bidding was worth any delay.
"On your way back, turn on the radio."
When she returned, I had her kneel facing me about two feet in front of the sofa. My feet were on the floor between her spread knees.
I opened the bottle of champagne with a loud "pop" and poured myself a glass.
"Hand me the saucer." She bowed face down to the floor and held the saucer over her head in both hands.
I took the saucer from her and filled it with champagne. Handing it back to her I said, "Put it there," and pointed at the floor between my feet.
"No hands," I ordered.
She leaned down and lapped champagne from the saucer like a cat.
"How long did you wait there for me?"
"Since ten till seven, Master." She looked up at me from the saucer.
"So long, slut? You knew I wouldn't be here till at least seven fifteen." She had knelt there, alone in silence, with those clamps on her nipples for almost forty five minutes.
"I didn't want to take the chance that you would get here and I wouldn't be ready."
"Thank you, my slave. I'm impressed by your devotion. How has your week been?"
"Wonderful, Master . . . and lonely. My classes aren't too awful, but I really miss you. Being a collared slave, you know, naked all the time, and my shaved . . . my shaved . . . "
"My shaved . . . cunt, Master. It's, well, refreshing. You know I'd just as soon be nude most of the time anyway, but this is different."
"Because it's for you, Master."
She bent down again to lap more champagne.
"My shave did cause a bit of a stir at the athletic center."
"It did?" I feigned shock.
"In the shower and locker room. Some of the girls were . . . surprised. I was SO embarrassed. I told them I have this tiny bikini, and sort of got carried away, but I don't think any of them believed me."
"Tell them the truth." I grinned. "It's your badge of submission."
"Master, I couldn't do that." She lowered her head, attempting to hide a blush.
"None of them would believe it anyway."
She had licked the saucer dry by then, and I had emptied my glass.
"Get our salads, slut."
"Master, I ate earlier. I wanted to devote my full attention to serving you. And, I was hungry. I'll bring yours right now."
"I guess that's an adequate explanation. Go!" I slapped the inside of her thigh, hard.
She bowed and rose, much easier now that her hands were in front. She shuffled back to the kitchen with tiny steps. I heard the refrigerator open and close. She returned quickly, her ankle chain jangling on the floor as she walked.
I had her kneel as before and hold the salad bowl in front of her. Her hands served as my table while I watched her and ate in silence. I couldn't take my eyes off her. A proper slave, head bowed, she didn't see me taking in every bit of her with my eyes: the cascade of blonde hair, the way her deep brown nipples on tanned breasts hung above the bowl and her outstretched hands, her trim stomach, muscular legs splayed wide apart on floor, the white triangle of her shaved cunt.
I loved her and she knelt before me in service and submission. I was excited. I could have pushed her back on the floor and taken her then and there, but I knew we would both be more satisfied later if I did not. I was a very happy man.
She served me my sandwich, a roast beef and swiss on rye, the same way.
While she took the dirty dishes to the kitchen, I poured her saucer full and filled my glass with the last of the champagne. When she returned, she lapped up the champagne greedily, while I sipped mine.
"That's right," I teased, "get all you can now. You won't be drinking again for a while. Do you think I should whip you till my arms get tired?"
"If it pleases you, Master."
"But does it please you, cunt?"
"Yes, Master," she whispered, looking down at the floor.
"Yes, Master." Much louder this time.
"What pleases you, slut? Look at me."
She slowly raised her head to look into my eyes. "It pleases me that you would whip me until your arms get tired, Master."
"Are you sure, cunt? I think I'll just hang you up in the closet and go to bed."
"No, Master. Please. Please whip me." She leaned down to wrap her arms around my leg, and kissed and licked my shoes.
"I don't think you really want it, slut."
"Oh, yes, Master, please, please whip me," she gasped between licks. "I beg you. Whip me."
"Where do you want to be whipped, slut?"
"All over Master. Whip my whole body, Master."
" Where exactly, slut?"
"My back, Master, and my ass."
She turned and knelt face down, her gorgeous tanned ass spread toward me.
"See, Master? Whip my back and my ass."
"My legs. You see my legs, Master." She stretched her legs out straight, raising her ass high in the air with her face still to the floor.
"And my feet. Whip my feet." She dropped back to her knees and kicked her feet behind her.
"Very good, slave. And the other side?"
She turned back around to face me and cupped her breasts in her bound hands. "My tits, Master. Whip my tits hard." I still have not met a woman who can enjoy, or even tolerate, as much breast pain as she did.
"And my belly, Master. Whip my belly and my thighs." She ran her hands slowly up and down her body.
"And, Master, please, please whip my cunt." She leaned all the way back, her head to the floor. Her spread thighs opened her sex wide.¨
"Whip my cunt, Master." She spread her cunt lips with her fingers. "Whip my cunt. See, I'll spread it for you, so you can whip it inside."
"If you want it so badly, of course I'll whip you."
"Yes, Master, I beg you, Master."
"From your neck to your toes."
"Let's see . . . We'll need the eighteen inch and thirty inch spreader bars, the red ball, and the Ace bandage for a blindfold. Bring them to me."
She swung forward, touched her forehead to the floor and started to rise.
"Crawl," I said.
She dropped back to her hands and knees and crawled to the toys she had arranged so neatly in the floor. She crawled directly away from me, making sure that I again had the best possible view of her asshole and shaved cunt.
She looped the blindfold, a four inch by five foot strip of stretch fabric, loosely around her neck and gathered the bars and ball in her hands. Grasping the ball in one hand and the bars in both, she tried to turn on her knees and knuckles to return. She dropped the ball three times before she got turned all the way around. It was just too big to grasp along with the bars and try to knuckle walk as well.
"If you can't carry that ball, I guess you'll just have to wear it."
"Please, no, Master."
"What was that?"
"Please, Master. I know I'll have to wear it, but not so soon. Please," she whined.
"What, slut? I've had an awfully long day and . . . "
"Yes, Master. If it pleases you, Master," she acquiesced with a tone that meant "If you insist, Master, but I won't like it."
She grabbed the red rubber ball in one hand and forced it slowly into her mouth. If the penis was her most favorite gag, this was her least. It was just slightly smaller than a tennis ball. She said it made her jaws sore. Once it passed her teeth, she was unable to push it out with her tongue. It could be pulled out with difficulty, but it easily stayed in without a strap. I could see a large circle of red rubber between her open lips and teeth.
"Unnh, unnh." She shook her head.
"Well, bring them here."
She crawled to me on knuckles and knees. Again kneeling by my feet, she handed me the bars and blindfold.
"Thank you, cunt." I set them on the sofa beside me. "I'll also need about three feet of chain and the little rope whip. Go."
She bowed to the floor and turned on her knees to crawl back across the room.
"On your belly, slave." She dropped to the floor and squirmed the remaining six feet to the array of goodies. Face down, she pulled a chain and the whip to her. Chain in one hand and whip in the other, she writhed back to me across the carpet with exquisite slowness.
She again positioned herself at my feet and handed me the whip and chain. I set the chain aside and flicked the whip at her left tit.
"Unh." She barely flinched away from the blow. It wasn't much, as whips go, just four two-foot strands of nylon cord with knotted ends and a coiled cord handle. It stung more than anything else, but it did sting, a lot. With it I really could punish her until my arms grew tired without doing any lasting damage, but she'd certainly know she'd been whipped.
She rose gracefully to her feet. I grabbed the ring on the
front of her collar and pulled her near the middle of the room under a hook
mounted in the ceiling. A previous tenant had apparently hung a swag
lamp from that hook, but it was perfect for our purposes as well.
I removed the chain from between her wrists, then clipped the screw eyes at each end of the shorter bar to her wrist cuffs. I attached the chain to the ceiling hook and clipped it to another eye in the middle of the bar. She stood with her hands held above her head, eighteen inches apart.
I briefly freed her ankles and attached the longer spreader bar to the ankle cuffs. Her feet were forced far apart by the bar. She stood flat footed and could flex her knees just slightly. I could reach every bit of her with the whip, except the soles of her feet.
I folded the strip of spandex in half lengthwise, wrapped it around her head, covering her eyes, and tied it behind her head.
"Ready, slut?" I brushed my hand gently along the curve of her breast and down her side to her hip. Her skin felt like silk beneath my fingertips. "Unh hunh," she nodded. She would have no clue to the whip's blows except for the sound of my voice and my footsteps and maybe, just maybe, the whistle of the whip as it swung toward her.
"Ten quick ones to start." I stood behind her. She braced herself for blows to her back. Her hands searched for something to hold onto, but, cruelly, even the spreader bar was unreachable the way it was clipped to her cuffs.
I swung at her back ten times, hard and fast. She recoiled from each blow, arching forward, away from me. She grunted softly with each stroke. A fine tracery of faint red lines crossed her back from hips to shoulder blades.
"Hummnh." She nodded rapidly.
I alternated the next eight strokes across the backs of her legs, left, right, left, right. She hopped from foot to foot, as if trying to avoid the blows after they had struck. I aimed the next stroke straight up between her spread ass cheeks. The knotted cords wrapped underneath and certainly struck her bare lower lips. She popped up onto her toes, straining against the wrist cuffs, then sank slowly back down.
I walked around in front of her. She had started to sweat and a thin trail of drool appeared at one corner of her mouth.
"You like this, don't you?"
She rocked her head from side to side, as if to say "I don't, but I do."
"If you're that noncommittal, we could just forget it right now. I'm sure you'll still be here in the morning."
"HHNNNNH! HHHNNNNH!" she shook her head violently.
"Nnnhunnh, nnnhunnh!" she nodded with enthusiasm.
I aimed five strokes at each flank; first her left hip and thigh, then her right. She turned her face up to the ceiling and pulled hard on the wrist cuffs. That quiet grunt with each stroke was the only sound she made.
I dropped the whip and knelt down between her spread legs. I ran a finger through the slit of her sex. It came away very wet.
"You ARE enjoying this."
"Nnhnnnh." She nodded again.
I spread the lips of her vulva with my fingers and gently licked her clit. She rocked forward to meet my mouth and pressed hard against my face. She moaned softly through the gag. I licked and sucked and stroked and nibbled her cunt and thighs until she tensed slightly and flexed up onto her toes. She was about to cum.
I picked up the whip and swung for the spot my lips had just left: inside her right thigh.
"HHNNNNHH." By the fifth blow, she had pulled herself completely off the floor. She was sweating heavily now and more than a little red in the face. Her breath hissed explosively in and out of her nose, her mouth totally sealed by the massive ball.
I aimed five more strokes at each thigh, then five straight up at her clit, rosy and glistening with sweat and sexual juices as it peeked out between her bare spread lips.
"HHNNNNHH, HHNNNNHH, HHNNNNHH, HHNNNNHH." Her neck and arms tensed as each stroke landed. She lifted herself closer and closer to the ceiling. She threw her head back, held the deepest breath she could draw and hung motionless, swinging from the ceiling, her face drawn up almost between her hands.
Again I stopped. She slowly lowered herself back to stand flat footed on the floor.
"Good thing that hook is anchored in concrete." I said. "You came?" It wasn't really a question.
"Unh hunh," she nodded. "Nnnnnhhhh." That sounded like a moan of pleasure.
"Ready to go again?" I picked up my champagne glass, took a sip.
"Nnnhh, Nnnhh." She shook her head slowly. Her head drooped to her chest.
"After a rest?"
"Unh hunh," she nodded, with some enthusiasm.
"Fine." I went to the bathroom and wet a hand towel. I brought the damp towel and a bath towel back to the living room. I gently rubbed her down with the damp towel to cool her off. I wiped off the drool that streamed down her chin and throat, Then I dried her.
"Nnhh, nnyhh." She nodded vigorously. Except for the whip marks, she was no longer red. Her normal tanned color had returned to her nude body. She remained gagged and blindfolded, forced to stand, arms and legs separated by the wooden spreader bars.
"Would you like some champagne?"
"Unh hunh, unh hunh," she nodded.
I reached into her mouth, grabbing the red ball with finger and thumb and slowly pulled it across her teeth and out. I wiped off the saliva soaked ball and set it aside.
"Thank you, Master. Thank you so much. My jaws are sore. My mouth is so dry."
"Would you like some champagne?"
"If it pleases you, Master."
I tipped the glass to her lips. She drank greedily, emptying the glass in a few seconds.
"Thank you, Master. I feel much better now."
"You came from the whipping?"
"Yes . . . and your mouth, Master."
"What was that like?"
"You enjoyed it, then?"
"Well, no, not enjoyed. It...it..I can't explain..." She paused and turned her face down, as if her blindfolded eyes were looking at a spot on the floor. After a few seconds, her head turned up at me. She smiled. "Yes. I enjoyed it immensely. There aren't any other words I can think of."
"Ready to go again?"
"Yes, I guess I am." Her smile twisted up to one side. "You know, you're EVIL"
"How's that, slave?" I almost laughed. I swung the whip near her legs.
"Doing these awful things to me . . . and making me like it."
"I bet you say that to all the boys."
"Noooo." She would have stamped her feet if she could.
I kissed her mouth hard and deep. One hand slid down to envelope her vulva, the other around and down the slit of her ass. I slowly pushed two fingers into her vagina and one into her asshole. She pushed against my fingers as much as she could. ¨ ¸
"You're just gonna love the plans I've got for those two holes," I teased, breaking the kiss.
"What are you going to do?"
"That's for tomorrow. I'll let you know soon enough
"You watch your mouth."
"What're you gonna do? Whip me?"
"As a matter of fact . . . " I swung hard, forehand and backhand across her breasts.
"Ooww, yeeoow. Oooooooo. I guess you are." Her face relaxed from a grimace of pain, her smile slowly returning.
"Ready for round two?"
"Ready as I'll ever be."
I picked up the big rubber ball off the stereo stand and tossed it from hand to hand.
"Do you have to put that back in?"
"Can't have you disturbing the neighbors."
"I'll be quiet, I promise."
"You know better than that."
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
"Now, ask nicely for the ball."
She crinkled her nose with distaste.
"Master, will you put the ball in my mouth," she mumbled rapidly.
She paused for a moment, took in a deep breath and said, "Master, please put the ball back in my mouth. I know I'll be a bad slave and make a lot of noise without it. Please put the ball back in my mouth, Master."
She opened her mouth wide to receive the ball. I put one hand behind her head and the other in front of the ball and pushed it back into her waiting mouth. I ran my tongue around the "O" of her parted lips, nibbled gently on her chin.
Again, I started from behind her. Five strokes quickly behind her left knee. With each lash, her left foot lifted higher and higher off the floor, twisting the link on her ankle cuff around the eyelet on the end of the wooden spreader bar.
"Hold your foot there. Point the toe."
"Nnnhh nnnhh." She shook her head and quickly lowered her foot to the floor. She guessed what was coming.
"Raise your foot and point the toes."
Still, she barely grunted as each blow fell.
"Raise your foot and point the toes." This time she complied. Her left foot swung up at the end of the spreader bar.
"Just five on each sole. You count." The whip swept down, landed, the knotted ends wrapping around her instep. Her foot swung back to the floor.
"Nnuunnh" She swung her foot back up.
Swish. "Nnnniiuuhhh, nnniiuuhh."
"Five. Good, slut. Now the other one."
"Nnnhh nnnhh." She shook her head vigorously.
"We've been through this before."
"Nnnhh nnnhh." Shaking her head again. With her, it was often hard to tell if she were really objecting to a punishment, or simply playing a game with pain. We had established "safewords," or in this case a safe sound pattern, but she never once used any of them.
I planted five quick strokes behind her right knee. Her right foot slowly swung up behind her, the toes pointed straight out.
Again her foot swung down to the floor and quickly back up into place after each stroke. Her muffled counting was the only sound she made.
"Nnnniiuuhhh, nnniiuuhh," she again counted five. Her body was drenched with sweat and her face was red.
She rocked back and forth from her heels to the balls of her feet, as if trying to wring every bit of sensation from her stinging soles.
"Are you okay?"
"Nnnhh, nnnhh." She nodded slowly.
I started at her ankles and methodically worked my way up each side of her body with the whip, alternating sides every ten strokes or so. Her grunting with each blow gradually changed to a continuous low moan.
I stopped counting the strokes somewhere above her knees. The total was already well over a hundred.
When I reached her rib cage, I slowed and carefully placed each stroke, making sure that most wrapped around to sting her nipples. I paid special attention to her sensitive underarms.
"NnnnhhNNNNNnnnnhhNNNNNnnnnnhhNNNNN." Her moaning now rose and fell with as each stroke landed. I placed several hard swipes to wrap around her breasts and again dropped the whip.
Pressing my body against her back, I wrapped both hands around her and plunged my fingers into her hot, streaming cunt. She pressed hard back against me, clamped between my arms and body. I massaged gently, hard, gently, hard, until I felt the muscles of her vagina begin to clamp down. Her body tensed. She rocked forward onto her toes. Another orgasm was about to begin. Her low moaning never stopped.
I pulled my hands away, backed completely away from her. Picking up the whip, I swung up into her crotch from behind. Her moan rose to its highest level, peaked and held. I swung again and again, until her arms clenched tight and she once more lifted herself, not completely off the floor, but to her tiptoes. One more stroke, her body jerked, and she lowered herself slowly down.
I quickly pulled the ball from her mouth, set it on the stereo cabinet next to the turntable.
"That's two," she gasped. "How much more?"
"How much can you handle?"
"More, Master. Much more."
It was a hot night and the apartment wasn't air conditioned. I had sweated through my shirt. She glistened from head to toe.
I stripped to cool off. Again I brought a soaked towel from the bathroom and wiped her down. There was no need to dry her this time. Her body heat took care of that.
"More? You're sure?"
"Yes, Master. If it pleases you, Master."
"You don't know how much it pleases me. " I reveled in the power she had given me. My excitement grew with hers as I drove he again and again into that space where pain and pleasure meld into ecstasy. Her blindfolded head turned to follow the sound of my voice as I crossed the room to the displayed toys. I quickly found the item I needed.
"How're your jaws, slut?"
"But you're not complaining."
"No, Master. I answered honestly, Master."‹
"Good, good. You should be happy about this, then." I held what we called the "breather" gag, a two inch plastic ball on a leather strap. There was a half inch round hole all the way through the ball.
"Open wide." She obediently opened her mouth. I pushed the much smaller ball between her lips and buckled the strap behind her head.
"Unnh, hhnnnhh." She nodded.
I slowly ran my hand down her neck and across her shoulders and breasts. I massaged her nipples with my palms.
"Do these still hurt?"
She silently shook her head.
"Are they sore?"
She paused, thinking, then nodded slowly.
I took one nipple into my mouth, licked gently, sucked gently, then did the same to the other. Her nipples were hard and fleshy cylinders in my mouth, warm and salty.
"Unnh, hhnnnhh." She nodded slowly. Her body relaxed and her head rocked back.
"Should I whip them?"
"Unnh, hhnnnhh." She nodded again, more vigorously, then her head rocked back again.
"Don't get too relaxed." I barely nipped her left nipple with my teeth. She jerked slightly, then relaxed again. I stepped away from her and picked up the whip.
Round three was to finish the evening.
Her head slowly came upright and she faced me as if looking at me through the blindfold. She tensed slightly, anticipating the first stroke.
I swung for her belly, not her breasts, as I'm sure she expected. She recoiled slightly with that stroke and the next and each of the next twenty. Her moaning began again, steady and louder now that her mouth was less effectively plugged.
I had promised her a full body whipping and she would have expected no less. I crisscrossed her thighs with lashes and her shins down to her ankles.
Only then did I move up to her breasts. I carefully aimed each blow to cross her already abused nipples. I swung easy, then hard. I swung from above and below and from both sides, working all around each tit.
"NnnnhhNNNNNnnnnhhNNNNNnnnnnhhNNNNN." Her moans again were punctuated at each stroke. Then, after five hard swings straight at each nipple, the moan broke up into sobs. She inhaled and exhaled explosively, gasping through the hole in the gag.
Leaving her breasts, I swung a final five blows straight up at her clit and dropped the whip.
She stood gasping and quaking in her bonds, bouncing on her heals and rocking forward and back. She trembled from head to toe.
I unfastened the buckle behind her head and pulled the gag from her mouth, dropped it on the floor.
Her sobbing grew barely louder, though her mouth was now free.
"Okay?" I asked.
"Yes, Master, I'm fine," she forced out between sobs.
"Yes, Master, I feel wonderful," she still sobbed.
I put my arms around her and pressed my naked body to hers in a full body hug. She pushed toward me in her bonds. I rubbed her ass gently in my hands and kissed her neck and cheek. Her trembling gradually subsided.
"You like this too," she said, rubbing her belly against my erect penis.
I knelt and unfastened the bar holding her ankles apart. I reconnected the chain between them. As I rose, I ran my tongue up the slit between her legs.
"Oooohh." She shuddered slightly.
I licked again.
Another shudder, stronger.
I rose to my feet.
"Aaahhh, no. More, please, Master."
"Save something for me," I teased.
"Everything for you, Master."
I released her wrist cuffs from the overhead bar. Her knees buckled and she slumped slowly to the floor.
"I thought you said you were okay."
"Okay? Yes," she said dreamily. "Weak . . . saturated." Her lips and tongue found my ankles, then slid up the inside of my leg. She wrapped her arms around my legs to steady herself as she rose. She took one testicle, then the other into her mouth, sucking gently, then ran her tongue up the underside of my penis to the tip, before plunging it into her mouth.
I pulled her hands loose from their clenched grasp on the backs of my thighs and held them together over her head. I reconnected the twelve inch chain between them.
Her mouth moved slowly, rhythmically up and down on my penis. She pulled off the end, ran her tongue up one side, across the tip and down the other. I released her hands and she slumped slightly to one side, barely able to keep her balance, even kneeling as she was. Reaching under her arms, I pulled her to her feet and held her out from me. I pulled her to me and led her, leaning against my side, gradually into the bedroom.
It was almost eleven. Her whipping had lasted almost two and a half hours.
She lay down on her right side and pulled her knees up, wrapping her chained hands around them.
I slid into bed behind her. I guided my penis into her from the rear. Reaching around her, I grasped one tit in each hand and gently rolled the nipples between thumb and finger.
She gasped slightly when I first fondled her nipples, then relaxed, slowly rocking her hips forward and back as I thrust into her. The climax I had postponed all evening came quickly. I pulled her hard to me as I came. She arched her back and growled, ground her hips against me. We came together, then collapsed.
"Three," she whispered.
I was still inside her as we drifted off to sleep. Her wrists and ankles were cuffed and chained. The blindfold still covered her eyes
I felt her slide from the bed. It had been a hot night and we slept
on top of the sheets. Sun streamed in narrow slits through spaces
between Venetian blinds. I pretended to be still asleep and not notice
I heard bare feet and a clink of chain hitting the floor. Opening one eye, I saw her tanned, naked back a foot away as she sat on the edge of the bed. Faint red lines crisscrossed her skin, a remnant of the previous night's whipping. Her chained hands reached over her head and pulled the blindfold from her eyes.
She dropped the blindfold on the bedside table and rose from the bed. As she shuffled from the bedroom, the chain between her ankles jingled against the floor with each step.
I heard the bathroom door open and the surge and hiss of water as she started the shower. The shower ran as I drifted back to sleep.
I woke again to the odor of frying bacon. Soon I heard her shuffling feet and the telltale jingling of chain. A tray scraped and settled on my bedside table.
I pretended to sleep. I wanted to find out what she had planned before she knew I was awake.
I heard a click of chain being clipped into a snap swivel. What was she doing?
She leaned over me. A faint smell of lavender drifted past as her breast brushed my shoulder. Her tongue gently touched the back of my neck, then floated all the way down my spine. She briefly lifted her tongue, then plunged it down the crack of my ass, across my anus and into my groin from the rear.
"Mmmmmm," I sighed and stretched my arms.
"Your breakfast is ready, Master," she said, pausing between licks around my testicles. "See?" She leaned up and away from me.
"So is yours," I said, as I rolled onto my back. My erect penis swung around to greet her.
"Ooooh. Yes it is, Master." She leaned back down and flicked the tip of my cock with her tongue.
As she climbed into the bed between my knees, I could see the results of the rearranging of chains I had heard moments before. She had fastened her hands in what she called "cocksucking position." The short chain connecting her wrists was clipped in the middle to the front of her collar. With my member in her mouth, her hands could caress my balls or rub my ass and thighs, but not much more.
I rearranged the pillows and sat up against the headboard. I took a first sip of coffee and surveyed the breakfast she had prepared. Coffee, orange juice, bacon and an English muffin with strawberry jam, it wasn't a hearty meal, but I usually eat a light breakfast anyway.
She huddled on the bed between my legs, cupped my balls in her hands and began slowly licking. She licked, tickled, and nibbled, gently teasing my cock with her lips, teeth and tongue.
I sipped my coffee, munched the muffins, and watched her luscious mouth move on my erect penis. She closed her eyes and settled into a languid motion that I knew would keep me excited, but not bring me to climax for a long, long time. Her hair settled in a pale cloud across my stomach. I ate, and she licked, in silence.
I swallowed the last bite of muffin and put my hand down next to her face for her to lick the last bits of jam from my fingers.
"I'm enjoying this, slave."
"I'm glad it pleases you, Master," she whispered around my cock. She glanced up at me, smiling.
"In fact, I think we should make a habit of this." ˆ
"You will wake me with your mouth each morning. Much more pleasant than an alarm clock."
"Of course. If it pleases you, Master."
She shifted from her curled position and up to her knees and elbows. There was a mischievous twist to her smile before she plunged her mouth down onto my cock. Her hands burrowed under my ass, pulling the chain connecting her wrist cuffs to her collar tight and forcing her mouth farther down.
She gagged as the end of my penis hit the back of her mouth. She pulled her head up, completely off my cock and coughed, shook her head. Her hands slid from under me.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes," she gasped. "Yes, Master. Just a second." She took a couple deep breaths.
She shuffled her knees forward until she was bent almost double, her rump straight up in the air and her hands again under my ass. She wrapped her lips around the tip of my cock and paused for a second. She shifted her shoulders and tilted her head back, then pushed straight down.
Again, she paused as my penis pushed into her throat. Her jaws stretched and her head wobbled slightly as constant pressure pushed my cock down her throat and her lips to my belly. She drew her head back and pushed again, and again, her lips and tongue sliding the full length of my cock.
My hips bucked up as I started to cum, briefly holding my shaft deep in her throat. She pulled back and milked my semen into her mouth with her lips and tongue.
I relaxed against the pillows, still and for the moment slightly stunned. I hadn't known she could do that.
Her lips remained wrapped around my slowly softening cock. Her tongue slowly lapped back and forth across the hole at its end.
"You've been practicing."
"Ummhhmmm." With a last flick of her tongue, she pulled her lips away. "It was harder than I expected."
"Because your dick's fatter than the dildo I practiced on. That's why."
I swatted her protruding ass twice, hard.
"Owww! I meant it as a compliment."
"It didn't sound like a compliment." I laughed.
She flicked her tongue back and forth across the base of my penis, just above my balls. "I could use some more practice." She smiled up at me.
"Maybe later." I pushed her over onto her side. "We need to get you into the rest of your attire for the day."
"Oh boy, does that mean I get clothes?" Her voice dripped sarcasm.
I sprung up and pinned her to the bed, face down. With hands chained to her collar, she had no chance to resist. I straddled her back, facing her feet. Her bare fanny was trapped between my knees.
"Not until we go out, you don't." I smacked the back of her left thigh, then her right, with my hand. "I have some other things in mind."
"You mean the collar, cuffs and chains aren't enough?"
"Owww! That's not fair," she whined.
"It's not supposed to be fair." Smack. Smack. I rolled off her and stood next to the bed. "You'd be better off to watch your words."
"So what do we add to this?" She knelt on the bed, facing me. Her hands hung on their chains beneath her chin, her forearms covering her tits. Normally during our slave games, she wasn't allowed to cover herself with her hands or arms, but the chains made it difficult for her to do otherwise.
"Clasp your hands behind your neck." Her hands moved and pulled the chain tight around her neck, over her collar. Her doubled arms flared out beside her head like wings.
I stepped back and leaned against the bedroom wall, crossed my arms and slowly scanned her with my eyes.
"Like what you see, Master?" She spread her knees wider and arched her back, posing for me on the bed. Her body was smooth and tanned, hairless from the neck down. Her firm breasts, the nipples round and hard, were held in jutting prominence by her posture. Brown thighs, in a wide inverted V framed the triangle where her pubic hair had recently been removed. The pink nub of her clit peeked between the spread lips of her pussy.
"Yes, I like it very much, slut. It's a shame you ever have to wear clothes."
"Thank you, Master, but what would the neighbors think?" She smiled and looked down with feigned modesty.
"The men would follow you with their tongues hanging out and the women would try to kill you. And nobody'd have any trouble catching you in those chains."
"I'd be helpless, huh?"
"That's the idea. Now, let's get going." I turned and walked out into the hall.
She slithered off the bed and shuffled into the living room behind me, chains jingling.
I picked up a two inch wide black leather belt from the arrangement of toys in the floor. I had modified it, adding a half inch leather strap that ran perpendicular to the main belt.
"Stand right here." I positioned her in the center of the room. "Okay, feet as far apart as you can."
She spread her feet to the limits of the ankle chain.
"Good. I think you need some things to keep your interest up through the day. I know housework and shopping can be such a drag."
"I don't think I'm going to like this."
"You'll like it a lot." I looped the belt around her waist and positioned it so the attached strap hung straight down in front. "You'll probably not like it a lot, too. A love/hate kind of thing." I pulled the belt tight, to the twenty-four inch mark around her twenty-six inch waist.
"Ooohh. Does it have to be that tight?"
"Does it have to be that tight . . .?"
"Does it have to be that tight, Master?"
"Of course it does. We can't have you forgetting your situation."
"My situation, Master?"
"You're a slave, slut. You're a slave."
"Of course, Master. If it pleases you, Master."
"Let's see here." I looked across the toys in the floor. The arrangement was getting scattered by our games.
"Here they are." I picked up three pink plastic objects. One trailed a wire and a small rectangular box. I had modified all three with loops to slide on the strap I had added to the belt.
"All three, Master?"
"All day, Master?"
"Just till dinner, slut."
"But, Maaassster," she whined.
"Oh, be quiet. You'll be gagged soon enough, cunt. Do you want the big ball again?"
"No, Master. My jaws are still sore. I'll be quiet, Master."
"Of course you will." I slid all three objects onto the strap before I pulled it back between her legs. First was a "Joni's Butterfly" vibrator, triangular, thin at the edges with a thick vibrating center designed to fit over and press against her clit. Next, a regular rubber dildo, about seven inches long and one and a half inches in diameter. Finally, I slid her ass plug onto the strap. It was six inches long and conical, widening to about two inches, then narrowing ahead of its flared base.
"Squat. Just a little." I move behind her and transferred the strap from hand to hand between her legs as she bent and widened her knees.
"Hold still." I positioned the tips of the two plugs against their respective holes. "Damn. I forgot the oil. Don't move." I buckled the strap loosely at her back, holding the plugs pressing against her cunt and anus.
I walked to the bathroom and retrieved a bottle of baby oil from the vanity.
She was still crouched with knees bent when I returned.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to hold this position?"
"Hadn't really thought about it. But now that you mention it, it's probably good for your legs."
"Oooooooo, I could . . . "
"Don't get yourself in trouble."
"No, Master. I won't, Master," she whispered between her teeth.
"Good. Now let's see about the attachments." I spread her cunt lips with two fingers and worked the tip of the dildo slowly into her vagina with my other hand. About halfway in, the strap’s pressure on the butt plug stopped further progress.
"Ooooo. That ass plug wants in, but it's not going anywhere." She wiggled her fanny as if trying to loosen a path for the butt plug.
"I've got just the thing." I pulled the dildo out about an inch, then poured oil into my hand. Working around the butt plug, I pushed a finger into her asshole to oil it. I rubbed my hand around the plug, coating it with the oil.
"Yes, Master, I'm ready." She crouched down a little more and leaned forward to open her ass wider.
I reached around her leg and pushed the dildo with one hand and the butt plug with the other. The base of the dildo touched home, with about two inches, the fattest part, of the butt plug, still protruding. I pushed hard and steady.
"Oh, oh, oh." Her sphincter widened, widened. ¸
"OH. OH. OH. Ooooooo." Her anus closed over the narrow base of the plug.
"I'm pretty tight back there, Master."
"Yes. We could work on that." I jiggled the base of the butt plug. "Ow. You mean. . .?"
"Hole training. Sure. But I'm not planning any. Yet."
"Oooooo." She wiggled her ass slightly.
"You may stand straight."
"Thank you, Master."
"Don't thank me yet, we're not done." I buckled the strap to the belt loosely in the back. With my fingers, I spread her cunt lips to expose her clit, then positioned the nub of the Butterfly on it. All the parts were in place. I unbuckled the strap, pulled it tight, then rebuckled it.
The strap had lapped over one of her cunt lips, so I readjusted it, letting it settle deep into her slit. Then I tightened the strap one more notch.
"Ooww. Too tight."
"What was that, slut?" I tucked the Butterfly vibrator's controller into the belt.
"I hope it pleases you, Master."
"How do you feel?"
"Full, Master. Excited. Restricted. Do the straps have to be this tight?"
"I think I could pull 'em both in another notch if I tried."
"No, Master. Please don't Master." She dropped to the floor and knelt huddled at my feet.
"Get up! How are your ass and cunt?"
She struggled to her feet.
"My ass . . . it hurts, just a little. I feel the plug stretching. I think I can get used to it. I'll always know it's there."
"My cunt . . . well, the dildo feels . . . it feels a lot like you. That's nice. But the strap, it pushes everything in so hard, so tight.
"The vibrator's sort of weird. It's pressed against my clit, sure, but it just sort of sits there. I don't knoooooooooow."
I flipped the switch at her waist as she finished speaking.
Her knees wobbled and she leaned against me, her chained hands clasped on my shoulder.
"Oooohhh. Maaasster, pleeease."
I flipped the switch off.
"Master," she panted, "it's almost too much. With the dildo and the plug and, oh, Master, right on my clit . . . " She looked in my eyes, then dropped her gaze to the floor.
"Glad you like it."
"Master, no . . . I mean, yes . . . I . . . I don't know, Master. If it pleases you, Master."
"Of course it pleases me. Your reaction pleases me. Better than I expected. More intense. One more thing before I get in the shower . . . "
"It's just that all of it together . . . One more thing? Now what?" She obviously thought the belt and attachments were more than enough to keep her attention.
"Calm down. Just the ring gag."
"Ooohh." She stamped her foot with a jangle of chain. "All right, I guess, but you know how it makes me drool."
I picked up the gag from the floor. "I really appreciate how you laid all this stuff out. It's saved me a lot of searching."
"You're welcome, Master. But right now I think I might have been better off hiding it all."
"You know I don't need all this to make you very uncomfortable."
"No, Master. I know that, Master."
"Open wide, now."
"Yes, Master." She held her mouth open for the gag. It was a two inch diameter steel ring, wrapped in black leather, with a leather strap attached to opposite sides of the ring.
I positioned the ring behind her teeth and pulled the strap through its D rings behind her head.
"You're all set now. I'm going to shower and get dressed. You straighten the place up. Make the bed. Do the dishes."
"Uunnnnhhh." She shook her head and yanked on the chain holding her hands at her throat.
"Oh. Right, you'll need your hands, won't you." I unclipped the chain from her collar. Better?"
"Unnh Hhunnh." She nodded.
I walked to the bathroom. I stopped at the door and turned back to her. "Don't start the dishes till I'm out of the shower, okay?"
"Unnhh Hhuunnh." She nodded again.
She had made the bed and washed the dishes, mopped the kitchen, vacuumed the carpet and rearranged our toys in nice neat rows.
I sat on the sofa, reading a magazine.
She lay in the floor, naked and chained, reading an assignment from her European History textbook. Her legs curled under her and she propped her head on her hands. She was motionless except for a hand occasionally turning a page or wiping away a drop of spittle as it ran down her chin. She was right; the ring gag did make her drool. "Finish that section and we'll go," I said. "We have some shopping to do. Then I'm taking you out to dinner." In a couple minutes she closed the book, then rose to her knees, facing me. She held the book against her bare stomach. Below, the black strap held the pink plastic of the Butterfly tight against her pussy before disappearing between her labia.
"Ready to go?"
She cocked her head to one side, with an expression of puzzlement, as if to say, "Like this?"
"Unnh Hhunnh." She nodded tentatively. "No, I'm not going to take you out naked, much as I'd like to. You may remove the gag and put it in its place with the others."
She reached behind her head and slowly pulled the leather strap free of its D rings. She pulled the leather-wrapped ring from between her teeth. The leather was soaked and swollen with her saliva.
"Thank you, Master." She leaned over on her hands, preparing to rise.
"Did I tell you to get up?"
"Then don't. On your knees. Wash your face and come to the bedroom. I'll pick out some clothes for you."
As she crawled away, I saw the pink base of the butt plug on each side of the strap that separated her bare ass cheeks.
I went to the bedroom to select her clothes for the day.
I laid out her outfit on the bed. There wasn't much to it: a red plaid pleated cotton skirt, a loose white cotton blouse and a pair of high-heeled sandals. I thought for a moment, then went to the living room and picked up the black half-bra from its place in the floor.
She soon came crawling through the bedroom door. She had washed her face and put on eye make-up and lipstick.
"You may stand."
"Yes, Master." She rose slowly to her feet. "I'm ready now." She looked over the outfit I had set out.
"Okay," she said. "You had me worried. These won't be too embarrassing, I guess. No panties?"
"Of course not."
"All right. Will you help me get out of this stuff?" She reached for the buckle on her belt.
I slapped her hip, next to her hand, very hard.
"I said till dinner."
"But . . . "
"Maybe after, if you're not a good girl."
"But . . . it's just that. Well, every time I move the plug moves and the dildo moves and that little . . . thing moves. It's like I'm being fucked and fucked and groped all at once."
"And you don't like it?"
"I....I...damn it, Master, I do like it. I've been on the edge of cumming for an hour now. But in public? I don't . . . I'll drip all over the place. I'll leave a wet spot everywhere I sit."
‹"You don't like the idea of cumming in a public place, even if you and I are the only ones who know what's happening."
"No, Master, I don't. I'll be so embarrassed. What if we meet somebody we know?"
"Well, slut, you'll just have to deal with it." I reached out and slid the switch hanging from her belt.
Her knees wobbled and she leaned on the bed. Her faced flushed and her eyes closed. She wriggled from head to toes. Her knees pressed together and her whole body tensed.
"Oooooooohhhhhhhhh." She slid down the face of the mattress till her knees hit the floor.
"Oh God, Master," she panted. "Please. Please . . . "
I reached down and shut the vibrator off.
"Now you have something to look forward to."
"No, Master." She caught her breath. "I mean, yes, Master."
"I could just leave it on."
"Please. No. Master."
"I mean . . . Of course, Master. If it pleases you, Master."
"I don't think so, at least not now. Let's get you dressed."
"Yes, Master." She pulled herself up from the floor and held her hands out. I unbuckled her wrist cuffs and dropped them on the bed. The collar came off next.
"My ankles?" she asked.
She picked up the black satin half bra and fastened it around her waist backward, with the clasp in front. Then she turned it around and pulled the cups up under her breasts. The bra's underwire pushed her ample tits up, together and out. Its cups were cut straight across, just under her nipples which remained exposed. She pushed her arms into the sleeves of the blouse and buttoned it up the front. The white blouse fit loosely. The bra barely showed as a black shadow through the thin cotton. I could just see her hard nipples poking the fabric as she twisted and turned. She pulled the red plaid skirt around her, over the tails of the blouse. She buttoned it all the way down one side; the hem was about six inches above her knees. The skirt's waistband overlapped the belt beneath. I took the little plastic box that controlled the Butterfly and tucked into the skirt's waistband at her right hip, leaving the switch exposed on top. The loose blouse draped over the little box, concealing it from casual view.
"Now you may free your ankles."
"Thank you, Master." She leaned down and unbuckled her left, then her right ankle cuff. She dropped the cuffs and chain on the bed. She picked up the sandals and looked at me for direction.
"You may sit on the bed."
"Thank you, Master." She sat and strapped on the sandals with their three inch heels. I noticed that she was very deliberate in sitting down, and seemed careful not to squirm or slide her bottom on the bed.
"Stand and let me look at you."
"Turn and walk to the window, then face me."
She took five steps across the room, then spun, her skirt swirling around her legs. The heels were just high enough to make her careful how she stepped. Combined with the strap and the intrusions in her ass and pussy they forced an undulation in her walk that said, "Fuck me!" in red neon.
"Wonderful. You look wonderful."
"Thank you, Master."
"Now, spread your legs."
She shifted her feet about two feet apart.
"Good. Unbutton one, no, two buttons on your skirt."
"Must I, Master?"
I stared at her and said nothing.
"Yes, Master, of course. If it pleases you, Master." Her hands moved quickly to release the bottom button of her skirt. The fabric slid back and a healthy expanse of tanned thigh came in to view.
"Perfect. You are magnificent."
"Thank you, Master." She lowered her head in feigned modesty.
She slid carefully into the car. She sat erect and still,
with her thighs slightly tensed.
I put the car in reverse and backed out of our parking spot. I drove slowly through the parking lot, watching as she braced and pushed herself up off the seat for each speed bump.
After a few moments, she reached down and pulled her skirt from under her fanny, placing her bare bottom on the vinyl seat. She spread the skirt carefully around her legs.
"Why did you do that?" I asked. "I know O was required to sit like that. But I haven't . . . "
She laughed. "Oh. No, Master. O has nothing to do with it. I don't want to get my skirt wet."
"You don't want to get your skirt wet. What about the car seat?"
"I won't be walking around wearing the car seat. Besides, it'll wipe clean. I wouldn't want to embarrass you, Master."
"You wouldn't want to embarrass yourself, you mean, slave."
"That too, Master." She shifted slightly on the seat. "It's going to be nearly impossible for me to keep from cumming, Master, even without that thing turned on."
"Don't you dare cum without permission."
"No, Master. Of course not, Master." She paused and said softly, "I'll try, Master."
I pulled into traffic and drove on into the city.
Our first stop was a downtown department store. I parked at the curb about a block away. She opened her door, and stepped out onto the curb, carefully brushing down her skirt behind her as she stood. We walked hand in hand toward the store. She glanced around her nervously, furtively.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I feel like everybody's watching me, " she said, glancing over her shoulder. "Like they all know what's under this skirt."
"I don't think anybody can tell. But then, who knows?"
"Master, that doesn't help."
"No? Well, assume that they can tell. Imagine that everyone we pass knows there's a dildo in your pussy and a plug in your ass. Imagine that they all know that your Master can flip a switch to turn on that vibrator that's pressed up against your clit."
"Oooo, Master. You're going to make me cum. You know these things move. I'm being fucked with every step I take."
"I'm glad to hear it, slut. But remember what I said about cumming without permission."
"I'm trying, Master. It's . . . just . . . not . . . easy." Her pace slowed. She faltered slightly and pulled back against my arm. "Oh. Master!" She stopped completely, then squeezed her legs together. Her lips pursed and her jaw clenched. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and let out a very long sigh.
"That's one," I said. "All will be punished."
"That's not fair, Master. You fix me up like this and you're going to punish me for doing what it's intended to make me do."
"It's not supposed to be fair. You need to learn some control. I could turn that vibrator on and just let it run." I pulled her close and held the switch at her waist.
"Please, no, Master"
"What was that?" I asked, sternly.
"Of course, Master. Turn it on if it pleases you, Master."
"Not now, I don't think." I started walking again, linking my elbow through hers. "Come on."
I stopped in just in front of the store's front doors and waited. She looked up at me, puzzled.
"The door, slave," I said softly.
She opened the door and held it as I passed, then followed behind me. She hurried ahead of me to open and hold the interior vestibule door as well. We stopped in the open space in front of the first cosmetics counter.
"I'm going to the hardware department," I told her. "I want you to get a pair of black elbow length gloves. Here." I took out my wallet and handed her some bills. "That should cover it. Meet me in the women's shoe department. Go."
I watched her walk away from me. Her bonds and her shoes did wonderful things for her posture. Her walk was very smooth and very erect, and with a swing in her hips that made me want to jump on her right there in the store.
I bought 100 feet of three-sixteenths inch nylon cord and a couple snap swivels. That took about five minutes. I spent another ten minutes looking at power tools that I had no interest in. I wanted to make sure she was in the shoe department long enough for a sales clerk to find her before I arrived. I rode the escalator back up to the main floor and found the women's shoe department.
She stood with her back to me, slowly shaking her head as she talked to a female clerk. The clerk, a petite blonde, about thirty years old had started to turn away as I approached. I grasped my slave's arm before I spoke. She tensed slightly at my touch. ´
"Are you having trouble, dear?" I asked, looking straight into her eyes. I never called her "dear".
"I'm sorry," she said, "but I forgot what I was supposed to be looking for." She glared back at me.
"The pumps, dear. For the Burkhart's party." We didn't know anyone named Burkhart. "I think you need something in black, with high heels. To go with that black satin outfit." The only black satin outfit she had was a corset and the gloves she'd just bought.
"Of course. How could I have forgotten?" She put on her best darling wife voice. She whispered in my ear, "I hope you think this is worth it. I am not amused."
"I think we have something right over here," the clerk said, leading us to a display stand. "Did you have something like this in mind?" She pointed to a pair of pointed-toed satin pumps with three inch heels.
"How about something more like those?" I asked, pointing at the most extreme pair in the display. They were patent leather, open-toed and had spike heels about 4" high. Each had a strap that buckled across the instep and one around the ankle.
The clerk gave my slave a puzzled look, apparently not expecting me to have completely taken over the exchange. "Your size?"
"Six and a half B," she said.
The clerk pointed to a row of chairs. "Have a seat over here and I'll see if we have them in your size." She disappeared into the stock room.
My slave stood motionless, fists clenched. "Do you think I'm going to wear those?"
"Yes I do," I answered flatly. "Now sit like the women asked."
"Yes, Master." She perched herself carefully on the edge of a chair. I could see that she clenched her bottom and thigh muscles to keep her weight off the plugs in her ass and pussy. She slowly leaned over, unbuckled and removed her sandals.
The clerk quickly returned with an open shoe box. She pulled up a little shoe fitting stool and sat in front of my slave. The clerk pulled the left shoe from the box "Let's see if this fits," she said.
The slave planted her right foot on the floor and swung her left foot toward the inclined front of the stool, carefully keeping her knees close together.
"There you go," said the clerk cheerfully as she fastened the second buckle. She pulled the second shoe from its box. "Let's get the other one on you."
Her left leg swung down and planted on toe and spiked heel. The right leg swung up and slid onto the stool front. Her hand grasping the arm of the chair trembled slightly.
The clerk fitted and buckled the second shoe. "Okay," she said, standing and sliding the stool back. "Walk around a little and see how they feel."
Setting her feet side by side, my slave pushed herself up with her hands on the chair's arms. She stood with slight unsteadiness, then took a cautious step. "Tolerable," she said. And took a few more steps away from the chair.
"Walk around a little," I said. "Make sure they fit okay."
She walked around the display stand. On the far side, she stopped and turned to face me. She leaned on the display stand, clutched its edge and closed her eyes.
"Are you all right?" the clerk asked.
My slave stood perfectly still for a few seconds, a clenched look of either pain or ecstasy on her face. She slowly opened her eyes. "Oh, oh. Sorry. I'm fine. Just a little out of it today."
"How are the shoes, dear?" I asked. I held up two fingers and smiled.
"The shoes. Oh. Yes. They fit. They're as comfortable as heels like this ever get." She nodded slowly, looking at my raised hand.
I turned to the clerk. "We'll take them."
She tucked the shoe box under her arm as we left the store.
I said, "I really wasn't expecting that, you know."
"The hell you weren't," she responded. "You fix me up like this and then make me parade around modeling a pair of spike heeled fuck-me pumps. What the hell do you expect?"
"Let's say you're a little more sensitive than I expected."
"A little more sensitive, huh? It's a struggle not to cum every time I take a step."
"Glad to hear it. If you keep this up, you're in for some serious punishment tonight."
"If you just don't distract me, or stimulate me too much, I think I'll be all right."
"I'll be all right . . . ?"
"I think I'll be all right, Master."
"Better. You're getting a bit loose with your words."
"I'm sorry, Master." She bowed her head. "Please forgive me, Master."
"Apology accepted, slut. Just pay more attention in the future."
"I will, Master. Thank you, Master."
We had reached the car. I unlocked and opened her door, then walked around to the driver's side and got in. As I sat down, She again slid her skirt from under her, to place her bare bottom on the car's vinyl seat. She fastened her seat belt and sat very still and erect.
As we pulled away from the curb, she asked, "May I ask a question, Master?"
"Yes, slut, you may."
"What is to be my punishment for cumming without permission, Master?"
"I won't answer that," I said. "I will say this: you'll get a half hour for each time you cum before we get home. It may be anything you could imagine."
"Please, Master," she whined. "I can imagine an awful lot."
"I'm sure you can, but if you don't stop whining, you're going to be in serious trouble. "
"I'm sorry, Master. It's just that I can barely breathe without having to suppress an orgasm. Please forgive me, Master."
"Slut, you wouldn't need so much forgiveness if you'd keep your mouth shut."
"No, Master. I wouldn't."
"Look in the glove compartment. There should be a golf ball in there."
"A golf ball?" She turned the latch that dropped the glove box open.
I glanced at her sternly and slapped her thigh.
"Ow. Yes Master. A golf ball." She rummaged through the pile of maps and pressure gauges. "Here it is," she said, "in the back." She held it up for me to see.
"Put it in your mouth."
"But, Master, I'll . . . "
"Yes, Master. If it pleases you, Master." She popped the little dimpled ball into her mouth.
"Any complaints?" I asked, taunting her.
"Nhhunnhunnh." She shook her head.
"We have two more stops," I said. "We're going on a picnic tomorrow, and we need to get some supplies."
She looked over at me and smiled.
"We're going to the crafts shop first, though. We need to make something special for you."
"Hnnnh?" She looked puzzled.
"Leather," was all I said.
The crafts shop was in a strip center on the way back toward the apartment. I parked at the sidewalk right in front of the store. She reached up to take the golf ball from her mouth.
"No," I said.
"No. Leave it in."
She pounded her fists against her legs and let out a sharp breath. She scowled. Then she slowly nodded. She opened her door and carefully stood up, brushing down her skirt behind her.
This time she automatically stepped ahead of me to open the front door. The shopkeeper behind his front counter gave us a quizzical look, but said nothing.
She followed me across the small store and back into a narrow aisle. Half way back we entered the leather goods section. I slowed to scan the shelves. We were out of sight of the man at the front counter.
"I think black would be nice," I said. "How about you?"
"Hnnnh?" She shrugged.
"Or something a bit bolder maybe. Red or white?"
She crinkled her nose and shook her head slowly. She looked puzzled. She had no idea what I had in mind.
"Black then. We'll need a one inch strip, like a belt, not quite three feet long. A stiff piece of leather, oh, eight inches by three inches. And a roller buckle. I'll wait right here while you find them."
She found the leather strip easily. A variety of colors, widths and lengths of strips were displayed hanging from pegs for making belts. She pulled a chrome buckle from a bin next to the belt display.
"Hnnhh, hhnnnh?" She held the strip and buckle out to me.
"Just what we need," I said, taking them from her. "I think there are some odd pieces in those bins down there." I pointed under the bottom shelf.
She leaned over and pulled the nearest plastic bin out into the aisle. She reached down into the bin, sifting through different sizes, shapes and colors of leather pieces. Her skirt rode up behind her, threatening to expose her ass and the strap through it.
"Looks good from here, " I taunted.
"Hnnnnnhh." That was definitely a complaint. She crouched down and continued to sift through the bin. Now her skirt, partly unbuttoned as it was, started to fall away in front. Finally, she knelt beside the bin. In moments, her hand came up with a small piece of black material.
I took it from her, then dropped it back in the bin. "Too soft," I said. "We need something much stiffer."
She shook her head slowly, pushed the first bin back under its shelf and pulled out the second one.
"I didn't know it would be this easy to get you on your knees in public, " I said. "You look quite the slave girl there, shuffling around in the floor."
She looked straight into my eyes and very slowly nodded. The muscles in her face strained and her hands shook slightly. She was trying as hard as she could to put off another orgasm.
Then something broke. The strain fled from her face and her hands dropped limp at her sides. Her head rolled forward and she was totally motionless for a minute or two. She looked back up at me and a broad smile spread across her face. I saw a tiny sliver of dimpled ball behind her parted lips and teeth. She slowly raised her hand and lifted three fingers.
I smiled and nodded slowly. "Three," I said.
Her head again rocked down onto her chest. Her body shuddered once, twice, three times. Her little finger rose to join the others. She looked up again, her smile even broader.
"Four?" I asked. "You amaze me."
She nodded once, then shook her head wildly, swinging her hair in a cloud around her shoulders. Reaching back into the bin, she immediately pulled out a piece of stiff black leather. Its shape was irregular, about a foot long by four inches wide.
"Perfect." I said. "Come along. Bring it."
She slid the bin under its shelf and struggled to her feet, clutching her find in one hand. Her face was slightly flushed. Tiny beads of sweat made her neck, cheeks and forehead glisten.
She stood behind me at the checkout while I paid for our purchases. I handed her the bag. She took it and held the door for me as we left the store.
Once we were out on the highway, I told her she could remove the golf ball from her mouth. She did so eagerly and dropped it back in the glove compartment.
"What happened in there?" I asked.
"I stopped trying to fight it. Fighting it wasn't doing much good anyway."
"Is that all?"
"I was imagining what the guy at the counter was thinking. That was about the most humiliating thing you've ever done to me, Master. " She looked away, out the window, and then back at me. A lopsided grin crossed her face. "I still can't believe how much it turned . . . turns me on."
"I'm glad you're having a good time. You came twice that quickly?"
"Yes, Master. Once. And again and . . . Master, it hasn't really stopped. It . . . I . . . Master . . . if you touch me . . . I think I'll . . . "
I dropped my right hand off the steering wheel and onto her leg. I slowly slid my fingers up her thigh, stopping only when they reached the strap that parted her pussy. I brushed my fingertips lightly along the strap and across the wings of the "butterfly" vibrator.
She clutched my wrist with both hands, pressing my fingers hard against her groin and the strap running through it. My hand ground into the soft rubber of the butterfly against her pelvis. My fingers found the round end of the dildo and forced it deeper into her wet pussy. She hunched over in her seat and closed her eyes tight. Her breathing came shallow and fast.
A traffic light turned red ahead of us and I braked to a stop, thankful for the automatic transmission that let me drive one-handed.
She groaned, "Hnnnnnnnnhh, hnnnnnnnnhh, hnnnnnnnhh," as every muscle in her body seemed to tense and freeze. Suddenly, she relaxed, released my hand and fell back against her seat. My fingers brushed through a slick pool on her seat as I brought my hand back to the steering wheel.
"Thank you, Master," she said breathlessly. "Oh God, that was amazing. I don't . . . " She finally opened her eyes and looked up at the traffic around us. "Oh no." She scanned the intersection with a deer-in-the-headlights expression of wide eyed panic. She yanked the hem of her skirt down across her still spread thighs. "Do you think anybody saw. . .?"
"I don't think so." I chuckled softly. The light changed to green and I pulled out across the intersection "They've all got their windows up and their air conditioning on. I'd be surprised if anyone even looked this way, never mind seeing what we were doing. Now, if there'd been a semi parked next to us . . . "
"...the driver would have had a ringside seat."
"Please, Master. You're going to make me cum again."
"Me? I've got both hands on the steering wheel, slut. You mean you're going to make yourself cum again. And so soon. I have trouble understanding how you could cum again after those last three."
"It's not like they're really separate, Master. I...I just get wound up and stay that way. It just doesn't take much to set me off."
"I can see that. I wonder what might have happened if I'd left that vibrator on."
"You'd be sitting next to a pool of very submissive Jell-O, Master." She took a very deep breath. "Just thinking about it nearly makes me cum" "
" Don't think about it then, slut. Try to calm down. Think about baseball or something."
"Yes, Master. I'll try, but I don't think it'll help much."
Two and a half hours of the "punishment" I had chosen for that evening was about all I thought she could tolerate, so I changed our plans for the rest of our shopping trip. I decided to take her back to our apartment and do our grocery shopping on my own. I pulled the car into a space in front of our building.
"What about our picnic, Master?" she asked.
"I'll walk over to the store in a few minutes," I responded. The grocery store was only a couple hundred yards from our apartment. "I think you need a little rest."
"Thank you, Master."
"Don't be too grateful," I said. "Hurry upstairs. I'll bring the packages."
I watched her slide out of the car. She quickly brushed her skirt down behind her, in a motion that made sure no one but me could tell what she was doing. She dashed across the yard and up the open stairway. She turned and blew me a kiss from the breezeway outside our door, then disappeared inside. The door closed behind her with a heavy thunk.
I picked up the two bags from the back seat and followed up the stairs. She knelt, naked, face to the floor, in the center of the living room. In both hands, she held out her collar in front of her. The high-heeled sandals were still on her feet. The belt still encircled her waist. I saw the crotch strap trail from the belt and vanish into the furrow between the cheeks of her ass. I was surprised that she had managed to undress so quickly, but her clothes were nowhere to be seen. .
"Excellent, slave," I said. "You're learning your duties." I set the shopping bags on the small table beside the door.
"Thank you, Master," she replied, looking up from the floor. "If it pleases you, may I be collared, Master?"
"Collared, yes. And bound as well," I said. "Up."
"Thank you, Master. Yes, please bind me too." She swung her body back and knelt upright, her knees spread far apart, holding the collar before her. Her breasts bounced slightly after her body stopped its motion, the nipples hard and enlarged. The black strap glistened with moisture where it forced apart her pussy lips and disappeared beneath her.
I took the collar from her outstretch hands and slipped it around her neck, under her cascading hair. I slipped the end through the buckle and pulled the black band snug before fastening it.
"My cuffs are over here, Master." She pointed to a pile of leather and chain on the TV stand next to the set.
I separated the leather cuffs from the rest of the pile, leaving the chains on the stand. I crouched down behind her to cuff her ankles first. After buckling a strap to each ankle, just above the straps of her sandals, I couldn't resist the wonderful curves of her ass and stroked, then gently fondled her cheeks.
"Ooooo, that's nice." She knelt more erect, pulling her bottom up off her ankles to give my hand better access. "Yesss," she hissed.
I spanked each cheek once, sharply.
"Ow." She quickly rubbed her stinging cheeks, then dropped her hands back to her sides. "Thank you, Master."
I went to the table by the door and retrieved the two new snap swivels from the hardware bag. I clipped one to each wrist cuff.
She held out her left hand, then her right, for me to buckle on the wrist cuffs, saying "Thank you, Master," after I buckled each in place. Then I pulled each hand down and clipped the wrist cuff to its corresponding ankle cuff, left to left and right to right. Her shoulders were pulled back slightly, but otherwise her kneeling position wasn't changed. She would be able to kneel or sit or lie down in limited positions, but standing would be impossible and closing her legs difficult and uncomfortable.
"I'm going over to the market. Anything in particular you'd like for tomorrow's picnic?"
"You're leaving me like this?"
"Okay, Master." Her pursed lips told me she wasn't happy about it.
"What's that, slut?" "Of course, Master." She forced a smile. "If it pleases you, Master. I am honored that you care enough to secure me while you're gone." Her comment skirted sarcasm, but I chose to interpret it as an expression of her subservience.
I cleared my throat. "Of course. Anything for the picnic?" I asked again.
"Some of that paté with the peppercorns would be very nice, Master." Her smile now was real, as she pushed herself fully back into her role in our "game."
"Sounds good to me too." I reached down and tweaked a nipple.
"Ow." She pulled away from my hand.
"Don't go away. Back soon." I took two steps toward the door, then stopped, shaking my head.
"I don't know what I'm thinking," I said. "I almost forgot." Returning to her side, I reached down and slid the butterfly vibrator's switch on.
"Ooooooooo. Sssssssss." She tensed and writhed, trying to reach her bound crotch with her hands, trying to find a position that would move the gyrating vibrator off her already inflamed clit. She rocked and twisted, pulling up first one wrist and ankle and then the other, but to no purpose. She rocked back to a seated position, wrists still bound to ankles and far from the machine that tortured her sex.
"Maaassster . . . pleeeasse."
I turned to go again, without a word. She fell slowly over onto her side, then rolled to her stomach in a self-imposed hog tie as I closed the door behind me and headed for the supermarket.
I hurried my trip through the market. I knew that she would be frightened, left alone. I wanted to leave her long enough, but not too long. French bread, two kinds of cheese, a bottle of cabernet and some peppercorn pate. A quick run through the express lane. I was climbing the steps to our apartment in little more than twenty minutes.
I heard the faint hum of the vibrator over her labored breathing as soon as I opened our front door. I quickly swung the door shut behind me and set the bag of groceries on the floor. Putting the groceries away could wait.
She lay on her side in the middle of the floor, drawn up as close to fetal posture as she could manage, bound as she was. Her body was drenched in sweat. Her face was pressed into the short pile of the carpet. She didn't seem to see or hear me until the door clicked shut.
She slowly looked up at me. An expression of absolute joy lit her face.
“Oh God, Master,” she panted. “Oh God. Thank you. Thank you. You’re back. I was afraid. I didn’t…I thought..Oh God…”
“I’m her now, baby. I’m here. You’re all right now.” I knelt in the floor next to her and covered her body with mine. I gently pulled her up to sit, knees folded up to her chest. I held her wet naked body in my arms.
She buried her face in my chest and shoulder and wept.
"Master . . . I've been . . . I can't. . . ," she choked out between sobs. "I can't stop . . . I can't . . . stop . . . cumming . . . Master . . . since you left . . . and . . . and I've been so . . . afraid . . . "
I reached down and slid the vibrator's switch to "off." Her breathing slowed and her tight body relaxed in my arms.
"Aaaaahhhh," she sighed. "Oh, thank you, Master." She looked up at me with the broadest smile I've ever seen. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her face, her whole body, was flushed red.
"You knew I'd be back, baby. Didn't you?"
She slowly shook, then lowered her head. "Of course, of course. I knew you wouldn't abandon me. But . . . but . . . ," she stammered, then went on, sheepishly, "I was terrified. I was bound and alone and . . . damn you . . . I couldn't stop cumming. The sheer . . . physical . . . intensity of it overwhelmed me. Blanked out any reason I had left. God, I was glad to see you."
"God? You've never called me that before. We are making progress," I teased and chuckled.
"Master, you're taking advantage of me while I'm helpless."
"Of course I am." I gently brushed my hand through her hair. "You know you could have gotten loose any time. Your cuffs aren't locked."
"I know that. Rationally, I know that. If something had happened, I could have gotten loose. But I wasn't rational. I was . . . I am a bound and naked slave. I didn't want to disappoint my Master."
"No, I'm not disappointed. I don't think you could have disappointed me. I'm thrilled. You've performed heroically. Right now, I'm glad you're still speaking to me. I was afraid I may have pushed you just a little too far."
"Well, you did," she pouted. "At least it seems like I should tell you that you did. It's just so . . . overwhelming." That radiant smile lit her face again.
"Overwhelming," I said flatly. "You said that already." I leaned over and kissed her hard on the lips. My tongue penetrated her open mouth, teased and withdrew.
"I was terrified. I was completely out of control. I had this orgasm that just kept going and going, in waves."
"Sounds exciting," I grinned.
"When you walked through the door, I just came apart. Master, it was the most amazing sensual experience . . . " She looked down, looked straight into my eyes, looked down again, hesitant, uncertain.
"Okay," she finally started. "Okay, damn you, I'll say it. Thank you. Thank you, Master. I don't know how to thank you. You left me dangling over the edge and I loved it." `
I couldn't help laughing. "Slut, you amaze me."
"Thank you, Master." She pulled up her left arm and raised the attached ankle with it. "I'd hug you if I could."
"I guess it's time to get you out of this stuff anyway," I said. "A hug may be worth giving you your arms and legs back." I quickly unclipped the swivels connecting wrists to ankles.
"Thank you, Master." She shook each arm, then each leg, working the stiffness out.
"Stand up," I commanded, rising and taking her hand to help her up. She swayed slightly on her feet, still weak from the ordeal. I steadied her with a hand on her shoulder.
I unbuckled the crotch strap in front and pealed it away from her belly. The "butterfly" slid off the end of the strap and into my hand. I slipped the strap back through the loops on the dildo and ass plug, unbuckled the belt and dropped it to the floor. The dildo slid out of her cunt in a gush of thick liquid that trailed down her thighs. The pink cylinder dropped on the carpet.
She threw her arms around my waist, hugged me desperately, kneaded my back and shoulders, covered my throat and chest with wet kisses. "Master, right now I think you could make me walk into a fire and like it." She slowly slid down my body to her knees. She nuzzled my erect cock through my jeans. "I think you could make me walk into a fire and then beg you to make me do it again."
"Not today, baby. I think you've had enough for a little while."
I grabbed her hair and pushed her face hard against my crotch. She licked and nipped through the coarse fabric.
"Mmmmmmhh," she sighed.
"Get cleaned up and rest for a while. I mean that this time." I checked my watch. "It's almost four. We'll leave for dinner about six thirty. Take a shower. Take your time. Come to me in the office when you're done." I released her hair.
"Yes, Master," she said. She grabbed me firmly around the waist and began to pull herself to her feet.
"No, slut. Crawl. You're not to stand until I allow it." m E f¸ g
She sank back to her knees. "Yes, Master. If it pleases you, Master." She turned and dropped to all fours, then crawled away toward the bathroom. The leather loop on the base of the ass plug made a tiny black tail that poked out between her ass cheeks .
I heard chains jangling across the floor before I saw her. I had
started work on her blinders when she crawled into the studio. I sat
with my leather working tools and the pieces we had bought earlier laid
out on the desk in front of me.
She stopped just inside the room and dropped down, face to the floor. Her hair, still wet from her shower, trailed on the floor around her head.
"How may I serve you, Master?" she asked. She wore her standard uniform: collar and wrist and ankle cuffs with connecting chains. As she knelt, head down and fanny in the air, I saw that little piece of black leather still protruding from her asshole.
Come over here. Kneel up," I said, gesturing to a point in the floor near the desk.
She knelt beside me, sitting on her heels with knees spread wide, back straight and eyes cast slightly down. I casually fondled her breasts with one handle. My fingers stroked her tits and gently tweaked a nipple.
"The plug's still in your ass," I said.
"It's in my ass again, Master."
"I took it out to shower, Master, but since you hadn't removed it yourself, I washed it and put it back in."
"It stays in just fine by itself, Master."
"I'll remember that, slut. Very good. You're getting used to thinking like a slave."
"Thank you, Master." She smiled. I think she even blushed a bit.
I picked up a piece of stiff cardboard that I had cut to shape minutes before. I was about eight inches long and four inches high, with a straight top edge and curved bottom. I turned to her and held the top corners to her temples. "What do you see?" I asked.
"A lot of cardboard, Master."
"No sarcasm, slut. And . . . ?"
"And . . . well, I see my thighs, a little carpet between them. I see a bit of my pussy, my belly, my tits. That's about it, Master."
I pulled the cardboard away from her face. "Stand."
She struggled to her feet with a clinking of chains. I held the cardboard to her face again.
"Now what do you see?"
"Pretty much the same as before, Master," she responded. "Cardboard. My body, all the way down. Carpet, an arc about two feet deep and four, maybe five feet wide. And part of the base of your chair. That's it. I could see more if I leaned my head back, Master."
"Good. Good," I said, again dropping the cardboard from her face. "That'll do very well." I picked up a tape measure from the desk top. "One more thing to check."
I stood and wrapped the tape across her forehead and around her head. "Twenty-one inches. The strap doesn't need to be quite as long as I thought." I sat back down and turned to the work on the desk. "You can go now. I'll call if I need you."
"Yes, Master." She dropped to her knees. "Master?" she asked.
"Master, I think I know what you're making . . . ,"she hesitated, dropped her head.
"I think I know what you're making and I don't think I like it."
"That's awfully bold, slut. Do you want tonight's punishment extended to three hours?"
"Nooooo, Master. Please. I don't even know what you're going to do to me."
"Yes, Master. Of course. Make my punishment last for as long as you wish, Master."
"Face down, slut."
She dropped to the carpet, face down, hands on the floor at each side of her head.
"I think two and a half hours will be adequate, but don't try my patience. Now, slut. What do you think I'm making?"
"Blinders, Master," she said to the carpet.
"Yes, Master. Blinders, like for a race horse."
"You're right, slut. I'm making blinders for you. Just like for a horse."
"Yes, Master. It frightens me. I'll be able see enough to walk, won't I?"
"Yes, maybe even run, slut."
"But I won't be able to see what's around me. That frightens me, Master."
"You'll have to trust me, slut."
"Yes, Master. I trust you, Master."
"Good. Now go. Relax. Take a nap. Read a book. Watch TV. I'll call you when it's time to get ready to go to dinner."
"Thank you, Master." The little black leather loop wagged between her ass cheeks like a boxer puppy's tail as she crawled from the room.
I carefully cut the stiff leather scrap to match the piece of cardboard I had used as a model. Then I cut the strap to length, tapered and punched one end and attached the buckle to the other. Finally, I connected the leather piece to the new strap with a row of grommets across the top. My slave's blinders were ready.
That done, I took an old pair of wraparound sunglasses from the desk drawer and carefully painted the inside of the lenses flat black.
A few minutes before six, I walked into the living room. She was asleep,
curled up on a pile of pillows in the floor, a paperback closed beside her
head. I cleared my throat.
"What . . . huh?" she slowly opened her eyes. "Oh, Master. Yes. Is it dinner time already?" She stretched languidly as she awoke, first with legs straight out, chained ankles together and toes pointed, then hands and arms straight over her head."
"Yes, slut. Time to get ready. Are you forgetting something?"
She looked at me, then looked around her, puzzled. Then she said, "Oh.Master, I'm sorry, Master. Please forgive me," as she hurriedly rolled up onto her knees and bowed face down to the floor.
"Much better. You may stand."
"Thank you, Master." She struggled to her feet. She stood before me, naked and beautiful. She placed her feet apart, chain taut between her ankles. Muscular, tanned legs led upward to the bare triangle of her pussy, lips pink and barely parted. A chromed chain dangled across her slit, as she held her cuffed hands at her waist, slightly apart, fulfilling instructions not to cover her pubis. Her hips, perhaps a bit more ample than ideal, gave way to a slender waist and firm, round breasts. Straight red-blonde hair cascaded around her shoulders, ending just above her erect pink nipples. She smiled, looked straight at me with gray eyes, then quickly looked down.
"Let's get you out of your uniform," I said, stepping up to her. "Give me your hands." Taking her outstretched wrists, I quickly unbuckled her cuffs. I dropped the cuffs and their connecting chain on the sofa.
"Turn. And lift your hair." She pivoted and raised her hair away from her neck with both hands, arms bent back over her head. I released her collar and dropped it beside the wrist cuffs.
"You can take care of your ankles," I said. I continued as she crouched down to remove her ankle cuffs. "We're going to Emilio's. You'll wear your corset and your new shoes." She tossed the ankle cuffs onto the sofa and stood upright. "I'll let you decide the rest."
"Thank you, Master. I think I know just the thing."
"Your shoes are on the table by the door. Put them on and bring me the corset." I sat down on the sofa.
She took the pumps from their box and sat on the edge of the coffee table to put them on. Facing directly toward me, she lifted, spread and crossed her left leg. She slipped on the shoe, buckled the ankle strap, then repeated the process with the right shoe. Rising a bit unsteadily on the heels, she stepped away across the room. She bent o ver at the waist to pick up the corset, giving me a magnificent display of her plugged ass.
"Very nice, slut," I commented. "Thank you, Master." Beginning to get the feel of the heels, she walked over and handed me the black satin corset.
"Kneel here," I said, pointing to the floor at my feet. "Face away from me."
"Yes, Master," she responded as she complied.
I wrapped the corset loosely around her torso, waiting for her to adjust her breasts and pull the half cups up under them. The cups stopped short, leaving her nipples and areolae exposed. It was a modern corset, with hooks and elastic, not laces and stays. It would serve quite well, though, to contain and restrain my slave. In back, there were a close row of hooks and four matching rows of loops, allowing the corset to be adjusted. I pulled the top hook across to the farthest loop and slipped it through. As I went down the row, pulling and looping, her kneeling posture, already straight, became more and more erect. The pattern of her breathing changed subtly, grew slightly more shallow. Her shoulders and bottom writhed slowly, twisting her body into the confining fabric.
"Done," I said, slipping the last hook into place. "Up now. Let me see you."
"Yes, Master." She pushed herself carefully to her feet, steadying herself against the sofa. She strode slowly away from me across the room, her bare bottom swaying seductively, made even more prominent by her restricted waist. In back, the corset ended just at the top of her hips. A tiny piece of black leather peeked between her ass cheeks.
She turned and started back toward me.
"Stop there," I commanded after a couple steps. She spread her feet slightly apart to help her balance. The front view was magnificent. The corset's wired cups forced her ample tits up and together, creating a valley of cleavage that looked wonderfully fuckable. The nipples were fully erect above the cups. Her already slim waist was reduced to about twenty-three inches. The exaggeration of her feminine shape further emphasized her tits above and her bare, pussy below, glowing against the shiny black satin. Four garters dangled from the lower edge of the corset.
"Excellent," I commented. "Follow me. I'm going to clean up while you get dressed."
I led her into the bathroom. Her heels clicked harshly on the hard tile floor. "You may undress me," I said, turning back to her.
She slowly unbuttoned my shirt, then pushed it back off my shoulders. She pressed her uplifted tits hard against me and leaned down to trail her lips and tongue across my chest. She knelt down and pulled the shirt sleeves off my arms, dropping it in the floor behind her. She untied my shoes, then lifting each foot, pulled off my shoes and socks.
She washed my feet with her tongue, starting near each ankle. She worked her way down in wide, wet licks and finally, carefully sucked each toe. I braced myself against the sink to remain standing.
She leaned up and lightly kissed the fly of my jeans. Quickly, she unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my fly and pulled my jeans and shorts down to my ankles. Again she lifted each foot, pulling my pants free to join the pile with my shirt and shoes.
Wrapping her arms around my waist, she turned her head to the side and gently licked my balls. She took each in her mouth in turn, lightly sucking and rolling. She ran her tongue straight up the length of my cock and off the end. She paused for a moment, then plunged her open mouth straight down onto my hard member. She pushed me into her throat past her gagging point, then backed off leaving just the tip in her lips. Again she plunged her mouth down. And again.
On the next up stroke, I grabbed her hair and pulled her head back sharply. "That's enough for now."
"But Master, you don't like my mouth?"
"I love your mouth, slut. But I've got another idea. Get up." She struggled to her feet with my help, almost falling once as her heels slipped on the slick tile floor. "Turn around and lean over the sink. Spread your legs."
"Yes, Master." She positioned herself as I had directed.
I reached between her ass cheeks and hooked a finger through the loop on her ass plug. Bracing the other hand against the rim of the sink, I quickly pulled the plug out and dropped it in the sink.
I found her anus with the head of my cock, then drove it in to replace the rubber plug. She grabbed the towel bars on each side of the mirror, leaned far forward and pressed her face against the glass.
"No. Master. Pleeasse," she pleaded.
"What's that, slut?" I pulled almost fully out, then thrust back into her ass. Her bare pussy thumped against the cold porcelain sink rim.
"What, slut?" Thump.
"Oh! Master! Yes!"
"Yes, Master! Yes!" Thump.
"Yes, Master!" Thump. /
"Please, Master!" Thump.
"What, slut?" Thump.
"Please, Master!" Thump.
"Please fuck my ass!" Thump.
"Please, Master!" Thump.
"Please, Master!" Thump.
"Please, Master!" Thump.
"Please fuck my ass!" Thump.
"Fuck my ass, Master!" Thump. "Please fuck my ass!" Thump.
I grabbed her tits in both hands, squeezed her nipples between my fingertips and pulled her back hard against my chest. She arched her spine and threw her head back over my shoulder. I came deep inside her bowels.
"Oh. Master. Oh!" She relaxed forward, drooped her head above the faucet. I released her nipples and eased my rapidly softening cock from her oozing asshole. She wiggled her hips from side to side, feeling her ass finally free and empty.
"I think you enjoyed that almost as much as I did," I said.
She twisted around to look me in the face. "Yes, Master. I probably did." A lopsided grin flashed across her face before she turned her head down and away. She remained leaning across the sink.
I stepped back against the wall and slapped her fanny sharply.
"Clean up in here," I ordered. "Then get dressed." I turned and opened the taps for my shower. She pulled out a length of toilet paper to wipe her dripping ass.
"And lay out my tan suit and a white shirt," I continued as I stepped in to the tub and pulled the shower curtain closed.
I walked naked into the bedroom after my shower, brushing my hair with a towel. She was fully clothed, but dropped to her knees, face to the floor as I entered the room.
"Up," I said and sat on the edge of the bed.
She rose to her feet, steadying herself on the bed's edge. She wore an sleeveless, iridescent blue dress of a vaguely oriental design. The fabric shined and clung to her curves. The dress would have probably been too tight without the corset. I guessed that she had bought it especially to wear with the corset. It was tight and straight around her legs, extending to mid-calf, but with slits halfway up her thighs on both sides. The neckline was high with a straight, tight collar that buttoned at her throat.
She added black stockings to the pumps, and pulled her hair back in a ponytail. That was it; she wore no jewelry. The effect was stunning.
"Wow," was all I said.
"I take it you approve, Master?"
"Wholeheartedly," I agreed. "Now help me get dressed."
"You heard me. Help me get dressed." I wanted to push her totally into her role as slave. She was to serve me, not only sexually, but at all times and in every way.
"Yes, Master. Of course." She knelt and held my undershorts while I stepped into them, then pulled them up and adjusted them. She helped me into my pants and buttoned my shirt. As I sat on the bed, she, kneeling again, pulled on my socks and tied my shoes. I tied my own tie and slipped into my suit jacket while she knelt beside me.
"One more thing before we go." I said and, with a quiet clink of chain, pulled a small object from the drawer in my bedside table. "Pull your dress up around your hips and lie back on the bed."
"Okay, Master." She looked at me, puzzled, and obviously trying to figure out what I held in my hand. She struggled with the dress, but it was tight enough that she had trouble pulling it up more that a few inches at the hips. Finally, she threw herself back on the bed in frustration and pulled up the front flap of the dress between its two slits.
"I'm sorry, Master. This is the best I can do." The top of her pussy slit was barely below the folded edge of the dress.
"I think that'll do," I said. "Spread your legs a little." She slid her knees about eight inches apart.
I dropped the set of clamps that I'd bought the day before on the bed between her legs. I slipped a finger gently between her bare cunt lips and slid it up across her clit. The finger came away wet. ¸
"A bit damp down there," I said.
"Slavery makes me wet," she replied, flatly.
I spread her lower lips apart with the fingers of one hand, exposing her clit and the inner lips. I tweaked her clit lightly between thumb and forefinger.
"Ooooo." She squirmed her hips.
I pulled up one of the soft inner lips and rolled it in my fingers until it swelled slightly. Holding firmly, picked up one of the clamps and released it on her captured cunt lip.
"Ow." She jerked just a little. "Master!"
I had set the screw adjustment on the clamp to apply minimum pressure, but now backed the screw out on its threads until I was sure the clamp wouldn't slide off. I grasped the other inner lip and secured it like the first. A short chromed steel chain dangled to the bed from the two little plastic-coated alligator clips.
"Just something to remind you what you are," I said. "You can get up now."
She rose and pulled her dress back down around her legs.
"Master, it hurts."
"But just a little, Master. And the chain is cold."
"I'm sure I'll get used to it, Master." She walked to the door and back. "The chain sways . . . and pulls just a bit when I walk. You know, I like it almost as much as I don't like it." She stopped and bowed her head. "Thank you, Master."
"You're welcome, slut. Shall we go?"
"Of course, Master. I'm ready."
Emilio's was the best Italian restaurant in the city. That didn't mean it was a great restaurant, it wasn't that big a city. In the traditional American expectation of an Italian restaurant, it had rough, bare brick walls, dim lighting and candles on every table.
We had a short wait in the lobby before our table was ready. I saw the obvious and not so obvious looks that my slave got from the other men who waited there with us. I didn't blame them. She was a spectacular vision in iridescent blue. The dress clung to every corset-exaggerated curve of her trim body. The spike heels and side slits emphasized her lean legs. There was a certain glow in her expression and a sway in her movements, probably due in part to the labia clamps, that only brought more attention to her desirability.
I could only smile and think, "She's mine, guys. If you only knew how much she's mine." It was macho pride, I know, but I enjoyed every second of it.
The maitre'd led us to a small corner table far from the entrance. I had made it clear that we wanted privacy. He held her chair and as she sat. I heard a barely perceptible clink of muffled chain on wood. She tensed slightly, almost fully seated, then dropped into the chair. The maitre'd gave no sign that he had noticed anything out of the ordinary. He handed us menus and retreated to the lobby.
"Did you hear that, Master?"
"Yes," I smiled, trying hard to keep from laughing.
"Do you think . . . ?"
"No. If he heard it, he had no idea what he heard." I shook my head. "It looked like you felt something too."
"When the chain hit the chair, well . . . it startled me."
"I could see that."
"You're diabolical. Even with the corset and the heels, I could almost pretend to myself that everything was normal. But those damned clamps on my pussy and the chain make it impossible. The clamps hurt. I guess you know that."
"Yes. I know."
"And they . . . they excite me. They make me wet and it's not going to get any better.
"Perfect," I said gleefully as our waiter arrived. I ordered a bottle of Chianti Classico and two antipasto salads, asking him to return for our dinner orders.
"Perfect, huh," she continued when he had gone. "You don't know how perfect."
"What do you want to eat?" I interrupted.
"Eat? Oh. Yes." She quickly scanned the menu. "Linguine with red clam sauce."
"That sounds good," I said. "I think I'll have the veal piccata."
I set my menu on the corner of the table and looked straight into her eyes. "Just for a few minutes, let's forget this Master and slave thing. I want to talk as husband and wife. Seriously." I put my hand over hers as it rested on the table top.
"No?" I was startled. "You mean with the clamps and all you can't think seriously?"
"No, Master. I mean I don't want to forget being your slave. Not for a moment."
"We have to start doing some planning," I said. "You're about to graduate. My job is going really well. They just hired me for the one project, but looks like I'll have it permanently if I want it. We need to decide what to do this fall."
"You decide, Master. I'll follow where you go."
"I don't want to decide this for you. Your career will be as important as mine."
"But I have decided," she insisted.
"You've decided what?"
"I've decided to be your slave."
"It's not that simple."
"It is that simple. Look, Master . . . "
"Will you stop calling me that for a few minutes?"
"No, I won't. And that's the only thing I'll refuse you. I refuse to not be your slave."
I could only shake my head.
Our waiter returned, but stopped at a slight distance from the table, reluctant to interrupt what appeared to be a marital argument. I guess it was a marital argument of sorts. I looked up and waived him over. He took our dinner order, placed our salads on the table, poured us each a glass of Chianti and vanished.
I still didn't completely comprehend what she was telling me. "Okay. Go ahead," I said.
"My work is pretty portable. I should be able to find a job in just about any city. You have to establish a practice. And you seem to have a decent start at it. Therefore, I'll go where you need me to go."
"I'll accept that. All right. That makes some sense. But . . . "
"No buts, Master. I'll find a job. I'll go out into the working world every day, just like everybody else."
"But I belong to you, Master. Mind, body and soul, I belong to you and I don't want anything else."
"Do you know what you're saying?"
"I know exactly what I'm saying." She pursed her lips and I saw the muscles in her neck tighten. She was annoyed at my reluctance.
"You love me don't you?" she asked.
That question took me by surprise. "Yes. Of course I love you. I love you more than anyone or anything."
"Then ask yourself this: Do you love me enough to own me?"
I said nothing. I just looked in her eyes with what I'm sure was a blank, stupid stare.
"What I said a few minutes ago: that I could almost pretend that everything was normal. Well, it would only be pretending. Nothing is normal. I knew it before, but yesterday and today made me certain. I want to belong to you, Master. Completely. With no reservations."
"Can I think about this for a little while?" Her insistence, her seemingly absolute commitment to become my slave, had taken me by surprise. I'll admit it. It frightened me. I was afraid of the power that she had thrust into my hands.
"No. You told me once that a submissive had only one decision to make: to submit or not. I've made that decision. And you can accept it or not. I'll ask again; do you love me enough to own me?"
I looked down at the table, stared at the candle in its center, looked at the wall beside me and up at the lights in the ceiling. I looked anywhere but at her. I took a long, slow swallow of wine and set the glass down hard, sloshing a little over the rim and onto the tablecloth. Of course I loved her. Intensely. Passionately. But to own her? She had offered me a wonderful gift, but with it would come tremendous responsibility. I hadn't considered this issue of ownership, in a real sense. Our Master and slave games had been just that, games. Now she offered herself to me completely.
"Yes," I said at last and relaxed. There. I'd said it. A large weight had lifted. "Yes I love you enough to own you, slave." I meant it.
She smiled that luminous smile and looked straight at me. Her grin twisted up mischievously at one corner, then she looked down.
"Thank you, Master. You do me a great honor."
I chuckled and shook my head slowly. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"Absolutely, Master." She looked straight back into my eyes.
"You honor me, then. I'm not sure you know the power you have. I'm not sure you know all that you're giving me. You're so strong."
"I don't understand, Master."
"It takes strength and confidence and conviction to give yourself to another this way. You're probably stronger than I am."
She smiled and lowered her eyes. "I don't think so Master, but thank you. I give myself to you , then. I give my power to you."
"How could I refuse that gift?" I paused and again covered her hand with mine. "Yesterday and today have been pretty intense for you, haven't they?"
"Yes, Master. Wonderfully so."
Her smile was irresistible. It made me smile too, but I had a serious purpose in mind. "You know I have some things planned for you. For tonight and tomorrow."
"You know enough to about them to say that some of it frightens you."
"I had planned these things as part of a game. We've been playing at being Master and slave. That was the way I saw it anyway."
"Yes, Master. It has been less and less a game for me in the last few weeks. And today . . . today I decided that it simply wasn't a game anymore for me."
"You've made that clear." I took another long swallow of wine. "The things I have planned, your punishment tonight, our picnic tomorrow, they're no longer part of a game. They've become real, slave. I hope you understand that."
"I think I do, Master. I'm not quite sure what you mean." Now I was making her nervous. She squirmed just a little in her seat and took a slow sip from her glass. She fiddled with her fork, turning over pieces of lettuce on her plate one by one.
"Just this. We've always had a safeword. We've always given you a way out, a way to slow things down if you couldn't handle them."
"Yes, Master. A word that means "slow down" and a word that means "stop." You know I've never needed or wanted to use either."
"There will be no 'slow down' any longer." I grasped her hand tightly and pressed it against the table top. "I intend to test your resolve to be my slave. There will be no 'yellow.' And if you say 'red,' if you ask me to stop, I'll know that you're not as ready as you think. If you ask me to stop I'll know that your slavery is still just a game."
"Do you understand? Do you agree?"
Our waiter had whisked away the salad plates and was setting the entrees on the table before I noticed his presence. I wondered how much he had heard. He refilled each of our glasses and vanished again.
"Yes, Master. I agree. I'm ready for any test. I trust you. Completely."
"I think you do." I smiled. "You'll need to."
"Yes, Master. I know you won't hurt me."
"That's where you're wrong, slave. I will hurt you. I won't injure you, but I will hurt you."
She looked straight down at her linguine. After a long silence, she said, "Okay. I accept that. I put myself completely at your mercy. You accept a responsibility to protect me . . . "
"Yes . . . "
“. . . and I accept that you will make me suffer for you, Master."
"I think we understand each other."
"I think we do, Master."
We fell silent. We both savored our meal, its flavor improved by expectation and relief.
As I speared my last sliver of veal, I said, "One thing, slut. This isn't just a test. It's the rest of your life."
Her eyes darted up from her plate and caught my gaze. "Yes Master," she said, nodding slowly. "I know."
I held her hand twisted up behind her back as I unlocked our front door
and pushed it open. She stumbled into the living room ahead of me
and dropped to her knees as soon as I released her hand. I swung the
door shut behind me. She scrambled on her knees to turn toward me,
face to the floor, her hands crossed behind her back.
"How may I serve you, Master?" she asked the carpet.
"That's a good start, slut. Go remove your dress and hose," I ordered. "Bring me my robe."
She rose shakily to her feet.
"Did I say you could stand?"
She quickly dropped back to the floor, face down.
"You may stand."
Again she struggled to her feet. "Thank you, Master."
"Yes, Master." She practically ran to the bedroom.
I started picking out the items I would need for her evening's punishment: the collar, cuffs and chains of her "uniform," a third set of cuffs, the Ace bandage I had blindfolded her with the previous night, the short whip. And our stereo headphones. I placed each item on the coffee table.
She crawled in from the bedroom on hands and knees, now wearing only the corset and her new spike heeled pumps. My terry cloth robe was folded neatly in the middle of her back.
"Keep your feet up when you crawl," I told her. "I don't want you scuffing the toes of your new shoes." I was not going to make the evening easy for her.
"Yes, Master," she responded, dutifully lifting her feet from the floor behind her. She winced slightly each time she placed her full weight on a bare knee. Stopping before my feet, she leaned down and began licking the toe of my left shoe.
"Your robe, Master," she said between licks.
"You may undress me, slut."
"Yes, Master." She reached behind her, slipped the robe off her back in a bundle and placed it on the coffee table.
She leaned back to the floor and slowly pulled the laces of my shoes loose with her teeth. I steadied myself with hand on top of her head as she pulled off my shoes, then my socks. She slowly kissed each foot from ankle down to toes, then rocked back at the waist to kneel upright. She took the tongue of my belt between her teeth and pulled it free of the buckle with a jerk of her head. Wrapping her arms around my waist, she pulled at my pants with her mouth, attempting to unbutton my fly. After a minute or so with no success, she looked up at me plaintively.
"I didn't tell you not to use your hands. Go ahead."
"Thank you, Master." She ran her open mouth along the length of my penis, through my pants. She quickly unbuttoned and unzipped my trousers, then pulled them and my undershorts down to my ankles. I again steadied myself with hand on her head while she pulled pants and shorts off under each of my feet.
"Put my clothes away," I said, "then return for your punishment."
She folded my clothes into a bundle on the floor, then looked up at me, a question in her eyes.
"Go ahead. You may walk to the bedroom."
She rose quickly to her feet, scooped up my clothes and scurried off to the bedroom, the chain connecting her labia clips swinging between her thighs. While she was gone, I slipped into my robe, tying the cloth belt around my waist.
She soon crawled back on hands and knees. This time her feet were lifted several inches off the floor behind her as she crawled. She winced each time her weight rolled across a bare kneecap.
"Stop there," I said as she passed the sofa. "Kneel up." She pushed her torso erect and spread her knees wide. She bowed her head and clasped her hands behind her. She knelt directly under the hook in the ceiling.
"You still don't know how I'm going to punish you," I said, flatly.
She surveyed the objects I had assembled on the coffee table. "No, Master, I don't."
"What time is it, slut?"
She turned to see the clock on our kitchen wall. "Ten o'clock, Master."
"And two and a half hours from now is when?"
"Twelve thirty, Master." She looked up into my eyes. I thought I saw a tiny twitch of fear in her gaze.
"Twelve thirty. You will be allowed to neither see nor hear from now until twelve thirty. You'll be bound, whipped and tormented at my discretion for that time. Is that acceptable to you?"
"Yes, Master," she whispered, looking down at the carpet.
"What was that, slut?"
"Yes, Master," she said, much louder. She stopped, took a deep breath, then continued, "I give you my sight and my hearing, Master. Punish me as you see fit. I give myself to you to be tormented at your whim."
"Very good, slut. Stand."
She struggled quickly to her feet, balancing on the spike heels, her feet placed about a foot apart. She was beautiful, tanned skin and the triangle at her sex offset perfectly by the black corset, her trim legs tensed and extended by the heels.
I had planned this punishment to push her to the edges of her submission. I had worried that it might overwhelm her, but I knew it would take her deep into herself, into areas she had never explored. It had not been planned as a true punishment, but as an exploration of her submission, her trust, her desire and my power.
My intent had changed with the commitment to slavery she had expressed over dinner. This night's punishment would also be the first test of that commitment. Her strength, bound with mine and turned back on her would prove her submission. The sensory deprivation I had feared might overwhelm her, I was now confident would bind her to me.
I picked up her collar and quickly buckled it around her neck. Next, I buckled the cuffs around her ankles and fastened them together with a single link. She teetered slightly on the spike heels, spreading her hands away from her sides to keep her balance.
I pulled her hands behind her, buckling them into cuffs and connecting them also with a single link. I steadied her on her feet, then released her to stand on her own.
I picked up the Ace bandage and headphones from the coffee table. "Do you have anything to say before we go on with this?"
"No, Master." She cocked her head to one side in thought. "Yes Master. . . I love you. I trust you."
"I love you, slut. I expect you to be silent until I release you."
I wrapped the bandage twice around her head, across her eyes, tucked a fold into the first wrap and let the long end hang. After plugging the coiled cord of the headphones into our receiver, I switched the radio on and held the phones to my ear. I spun the tuning knob until it was set far off any station and I heard the steady static hiss of white noise. I adjusted the volume and positioned the headphones' closed cups over her ears.
She gasped with a sharp intake of breath and tensed enough to almost lose her balance. I steadied her, holding her upper arms until I felt her relax. I finished wrapping the long bandage around and around her head, over the loop of the headphones, pinning them in place and completing her blindfold.
"Can you hear me?" I asked, my mouth about a foot from her ear. She made no response. "Good," I said to myself.
I took the third set of cuffs from their place on the table and fastened one around each of her arms, just above the elbows. I slipped a single link through the metal loop on one cuff. Hooking my fingers through the link and the loop on the opposite cuff, I pulled her elbows together until I could slide the link through. I screwed the link down tight, connecting her elbows tight behind her. Her shoulder blades were pulled together, making a crease down the middle of her back. Her shoulders were forced back and down and her tits were pushed up and forward, enticingly prominent and exposed.
She groaned slightly. Holding the link between her elbows, I smacked her fanny hard with my palm, a reminder that I expected silence. She tensed, but made no sound.
I looped a rope through the ceiling hook, then through the link between her elbows. I pulled the cord just tight enough to pull her elbows a few inches away from her back, then tied it off. She was forced to lean forward to relieve the strain on her shoulders.
She swayed slightly as she stood, unable to stay completely balanced on the spike heels with her feet tight together. The rope at her elbows held her upright as she dug her heels into the carpet. If she completely lost her balance, I knew I could catch her before she hurt herself.
I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of white wine from the jug we kept in the refrigerator. Returning, I set my glass on the coffee table. I circled her slowly, taking in the beauty of my blinded, deafened slave and contemplating the course of her discipline.
I took my time, certain that her unknowing anticipation was the key to the night's punishment. Soon she would lose all sense of the passage of time.
As I ducked under it, I brushed the coiled cord connecting her tightly wrapped head to the stereo. She twitched upright and gasped at the unfulfilled suggestion of a touch. Her lips remained slightly parted as she breathed softly through her mouth. Sight and sound had been denied her for barely five minutes, but awareness of touch was already on edge. She was ready for her real punishment to begin.
I picked up the little whip and walked behind her. Her pinned hands blocked the whip's path to the upper half of her ass. I chose the sensitive creases between her buttocks and the top of her legs and swung hard. She drew in a sharp breath and jumped upright and forward, stopped from falling only by the rope that pulled at her elbows and twisted her shoulders back.
I swung again. Again she jumped away from the whip and gasped. After four more blows, she had shifted about four inches from her spot directly under the ceiling hook. Her shoulders twisted up painfully behind her and her breath had become a shallow pant.
I lowered the whip.
She rocked back against the rope and scrambled with tiny steps toward her original position, desperately trying to regain her balance. With a hard twist and a wriggle she found stability and pushed her heels hard into the carpet. Still, she swayed slowly against the rope at her elbows.
I sat on the sofa in front of her. I took a slow sip of wine, then another as I watched her sway and writhe. I would let the sting of the whip sink in and her anticipation build once more before touching her again with either pain or pleasure.
I wondered how she could trust me so. And I thought that it had to be that she trusted me as much as I loved her. She could stop this at any time, but she would not. This night was as much a test of my power as her submission. I had to dangle her over the edge and hold her there without dropping her and without her recoiling in panic. That responsibility was daunting. That prospect, becoming reality was terrible and exciting and arousing.
I turned on the television, leaned back and put my feet up on the coffee table.
She drifted, suspended in time and space. Her attention, rather
than turning inward, projected itself out, desperately searching for any
clue of my presence, of movement, of an approaching blow, and finding none.
The ache of her pinned elbows and twisted shoulders grew out of all proportion
to the real pain she suffered. An itch on her belly gradually became
Every time her consciousness drifted, she lost her balance. At irregular intervals, I saw her sway and jerk. She would twist and wriggle to regain balance, make minute steps and replant her spike heels to anchor her against the pile of the carpet.
At the second commercial break, I picked up the whip and rose to stand facing her. She gave no sign that she was aware of my presence. She stood exposed before me, her breasts and cunt highlighted by the dark expanse of the corset between them. The corset's half cups pushed her tits up and together, exaggerating their size and leaving her bare nipples sitting above a shelf of shiny black satin.
I reached out and quickly flicked each nipple with my fingernail. She jerked back and a sharp "Ah," escape from her lips.
"Master?" she asked, forgetting my earlier demand for silence.
I answered with the whip, swinging straight down and alternating strikes at each nipple. She jerked back as each swing struck, but she had learned from her earlier lost balance and her heels remained spiked into the carpet.
“Oh . . . oh . . . oh . . ." she huffed explosively with each lash.
When the blows stopped, she leaned forward, pushing with her feet as if trying to find the whip, to find some contact outside her silent shell. Her ragged breathing gradually quieted.
I stepped back and picked up the ring gag off the coffee table.
"Master?" she pleaded. "Is that you? Are you there? Master? Please?"
I plunged my index finger into her open mouth and grasping her chin with my thumb, pinned down her tongue. She shook her head wildly, fighting vainly to pull free of the invading digit. I held on and pushed the finger farther back into her throat.
She struggled against her gag reflex as her throat muscles spasmed around my fingertip. In moments she stopped struggling and rocked her head back. As her throat relaxed, she closed her lips around my finger and began sucking, pulling the fingertip even deeper.
I slowly pulled my finger out of her grasping mouth. I held her teeth apart with finger and thumb while I pushed in the gag's ring with my other hand. I twisted the ring upright, forcing her mouth wide open and seated it behind her teeth. Feeding the broad strap through its twin D-rings, I pulled tight, forcing back the corners of her mouth.
Her ability to question and plead, her last active contact with the world outside her own body had been removed. She could now only react passively to whatever I chose to inflict on her.
Glancing down, I saw a tiny glistening trail of liquid building between her bare and slightly parted pussy lips. I pushed a finger into her and slid it through her cunt from back to front. One after the other, I squeezed open the clamps that still imprisoned her swollen labia, then dropped the pair with their connecting chain to the floor.
A puff, then a faint gurgle passed the open ring of her lips. I briefly pressed my fingertip against her clit before withdrawing it and backing away from her. She strained against the elbow ropes, rocking slowly in a circle, trying to touch something, anything in the space around her.
I sat back down on the sofa to let her drift back into the dark and silent void.
Eleven thirty. There had been nothing notable in the local news broadcast. The opening credits rolled for "Saturday Night"; the show wasn't very funny that year. I had another, delightful, amusement available, so that didn't concern me.
She continued to sway slightly, partially suspended by her bonds. Still, each time her concentration on balance drifted, she would jerk and sway, twisting to regain balance, repositioning herself with tiny steps, then replanting her heels into the carpet.
I picked up the clips I had dropped on the floor almost an hour earlier. The adjustment screws had been backed all the way out to hold tight on her labia. I took one clip in each hand and squeezed them open with my fingers. Letting the chain hang down between them, I carefully positioned the clips around her swollen nipples. If she felt my breath or sensed my presence, she gave no sign.
I quickly released my grip on the clips, dropping them and their connecting chain.
Something between a shriek and a gurgle burst from the ring that held her mouth wide open. She jerked back, swinging the chain now clamped to her tits. Her heels lost their grip on the carpet and she pitched forward, stopped by the rope above her elbows, then my arms as I wrapped them around her and pulled her back upright.
Her breath exploded through the ring in ragged gasps. I held her, hugged her, rubbed her back, calming her with my touch. She trembled in my hands. Gradually, her breathing slowed and quieted. Her body stopped shaking.
I knew it was not the pain of the clips that frightened her, but the panic of suddenly and completely losing her balance. I held both her shoulders, steadying her and letting her find her center under the ceiling hook. She shuffled her feet slightly and I saw her dig her heels into the carpet once more.
I held her at arms length for a moment, making sure she had found her balance. I let her go and sat back down on the sofa.
"Saturday Night" was exceptionally stupid and unfunny that night. I turned off the television.
At midnight, I picked up the whip. I walked around behind her, careful this time not to brush the headphone cord as I leaned under it. I wondered if I should touch her, warn her with my hand before I swung the whip. I decided, No. I was determined to test her will. I wanted to be certain of her conviction to become completely my slave.
A fine tracery of red lines crossed her ass and thighs from the blows she had received almost two hours before. It was difficult to resist aiming the whip once more at those same luscious curves.
I stood ready to grab her if she lost her balance again, but I was certain that she wouldn’t. She had a strong will, even in submission; especially in submission. She would have learned from her last stumble and somehow brace herself for a blow that she could not know was coming.
I swung hard across the crease of her ass and thighs. She jerked almost fully upright, arching away from the whip and twisting her shoulders back. She let out a gurgling gasp. Her feet hadn't budged, her heels still imbedded in the carpet.
I swung again, across the same spot. She arched away again, but not nearly so far. The whip slashed across the back of her thigh and with each blow, I heard the same gurgling gasp, but each fainter that the last. By the eighth or ninth strike, she no longer arched away from the whip, but had started to bend her ass back toward it. She leaned her torso forward, the rope pulling her arms ups covered in sweat and so was I. Her moaning stopped, turning into soft panting.
Wrapping one arm around her chest, I released the rope at the elbows and let her drop slowly to her knees. She seemed barely able to hold herself upright. I went around her, grabbed her under each arm from the front, lifted and dragged her to kneel in front of the sofa.
In a remarkably short time she gathered the present of mind to remember the requirements of her slavery. She held her body proudly upright, then submissively bowed her head. Crossing her ankles around the single link connecting them, she spread her knees wide apart, displaying her bare, swollen and dripping cunt to anyone or anything that might be sitting on the sofa.
I sat in front of her, placing my feet next to her hips, outside the wide V of her legs. Taking her face in both my hands, I guided her ring-stretched and open mouth down onto my erect cock. I guided the shaft deep into her mouth. When the head reached the entrance to her throat, I released her face. She was completely immobile for a moment, then I felt her tongue making broad strokes across my cock. She pulled back until her tongue just flicked my head through the ring. Leaning forward and down, she cocked her head back, then drove her ringed mouth down until her nose pressed hard against my stomach.
She had only her sense of touch and balance to guide her. The leather wrapped steel ring pinning her mouth open denied her the use of her lips and teeth. She worked her head up and down on my shaft, washing it frantically with her tongue. At the outer end of each stroke she flicked her tongue across my penis head, then plunged down until I felt her warm lips and the cold steel that held her mouth ring to its strap pressing against my stomach and groin.
Her head bobbed up and down. A low moaning growl started deep in her throat, muffled when my cock sealed her throat, then louder as he pulled off the shaft. "NnnNNNNNNnnnNNNNNNnnnNNNNNNnnnNNNNNN."
Her tongue lapped with a frenzy. Her head moved faster with each stroke, each becoming shorter and shorter, so finally my head was just barely out of her throat and into her mouth at the top.
I bucked up toward her off the sofa. My engorged cock was about to explode, and she knew it. The groaning in her throat grew louder almost becoming a roar. She pushed her imprisoned mouth all the way down onto my cock and held it there. Her tongue worked in a frenzy. Her head turned violently from side to side, pivoting around my member. She pushed hard against my belly again and again, as if trying to force my cock even deeper into her throat. I wondered how she could breathe, but knew she could not. As I came deep in her throat, the groan became a muffled shriek, a squeal. I bucked up to her over and over. Her head twisted and pushed, twisted and pushed.
I collapsed back onto the sofa. She leaned back, shakily. Her face and chin, her neck and breasts were coated with a slick film of saliva that had flowed from her open mouth.
She coughed, coughed again. A thick viscous foam of semen and spittle poured through the open ring of her lips, oozing down her chin and throat. She coughed again, then inhaled with a wracking gasp. Another cough and the last drops of sperm flew from her throat and past her ringed lips, falling onto the carpet between her splayed legs.
I reached behind her head, quickly unbuckled the strap and pulled the steel and leather ring from her mouth. The liquid gasping of her breath gradually slowed, calmed. Her face dropped to her chest. A minute passed. She slowly lifted her head and pointed her face toward me, as if looking into my face, as if she could see and hear to locate me where I sat.
"Thank you, Master," she said softly and clearly. I could barely believe my ears. She was thanking me for this? I chuckled and shook my head, then leaned forward to begin unwrapping the bandage from around her head. It was twelve thirty.
I let the bandage trail down in the floor as it unwound. As soon as the headphones were free, I pulled them off and set them beside her on the carpet.
She visibly relaxed as the hiss that had filled her ears was replaced by the dull drone of our window fan. She released a long soft sigh. Her tongue rolled out to lap my cum from her chin.
In moments the elastic cloth came off her eyes and I tossed it behind her on the floor. Her face glistened with sweat, flushed and lined from the winding; her hair was soaked and tangled. Her eyes blinked open, closed, open, closed again as she recoiled from the light. She bowed her head, then looked straight up at me, smiling radiantly.
"Thank you, Master," she said again."
"Thank me? For that?" I asked. "You liked that?"
"No, Master. . .Yes. . .Oh God, Master, I don't know." She looked down at the floor, shaking her head, the back up at me with a wry, lopsided grin. I cupped her cheek in my hand.
"Master, it was horrible. . . it was wonderful. I know I came when you came in my throat . . .I almost came every time you touched me. I don't want you to do that to me again, but . . .I want you to do it again."
"Slut, you amaze me."
"May I make a request, Master?"
"Master, please, save what you did tonight for special punishments. Please. I don't think I can handle this very often . . ." _
"I'll consider that." I grinned. "Tonight was harder than last night?" ¸
"Yes, Master. I like to be whipped. You know that. I don't mind being blindfolded, not too much anyway, but losing my hearing too . . . that infernal hissing. Not knowing if you're even in the room. I very nearly started humming."
"But you didn't." Our safe sign when she was gagged was a pattern of rhythmic humming.
"No, Master. I didn't want to disappoint you. I didn't want to disappoint myself."
"Oh, baby," I said, caressing her face, rubbing her neck and shoulders, "you really are my slave, aren't you?"
"Yes, Master. Absolutely." She smiled up at me, then bowed forward as far as she could, the top of her head resting against the front of the sofa between my legs.
I grinned broadly back at her. I was exhilarated. How could I not be overjoyed, owning this magnificent woman who knelt at my feet?
"How are your shoulders?"
"They ache," she replied without looking up. "I'd almost forgotten about them. They ache, Master."
I reached over her back and released the link connecting her elbows, then bent down and opened the one between her wrists.
"Aaahhhhh," she sighed. "That's much better, Master. Thank you so much." Her arms dropped limp at her sides. I massaged her back and upper arms, slowly kneading the pent up tension from her body. "That feels so good master."
"Lie back," I ordered. She dutifully rolled onto her back, her knees still bent and spread, ankles crossed. I unscrewed the link between her ankle cuffs, then unbuckled her shoes. She was limp, neither helping nor resisting as I lifted her feet and pulled off the pumps. Her head rocked to the side, eyes closed, her mouth open and slack.
"Can you stand?"
"I think so, Master. I may need some help." I stood beside her as she pushed herself up to sit. I reached out to her. She grabbed my arm with both hands, then slowly pulled herself to her feet. As she came fully upright, her left knee buckled. I grabbed her under her arms, steadied her.
She struggled to take a deep breath and smiled bravely up at me. Another deep breath and I could see her gathering her strength.
"There, Master. I'll be okay now."
"Let's get you out of that corset." I went behind her, careful to always keep a hand out to steady her. One by one, I slid loose the corset's hooks from top to bottom. I pulled it away from her sweat-drenched body and dropped it on the sofa.
With my hands on her shoulders, I gently turned her to face me. I squatted down and clasped her waist with both arms, then lifted her up over my shoulder. "I think we need to get some sleep," I said.
"Yes, Master. That sounds very nice," she replied. I could hear her contented smile in her voice.
I carried my naked slave, clad only in her unlinked collar and cuffs, toward our bedroom.
I had planned to sleep in that Sunday morning, but to my surprise, I felt
her slide out of bed around nine o'clock. I had given her a rough
time Saturday night and expected her to be exhausted. She had always
been one to sleep like a stone, though, then wake up early and feel totally
The bathroom door closed. After a couple minutes I heard the hiss of the shower. I knew she had taken those minutes to remove her collar and the three sets of cuffs she had worn since the night before.
The bed was a damp mess. We had gone to bed sweaty and sweated even more in the hot Southern night. There was certainly more than sweat on those sheets as well.
I rolled over and swung my feet to the floor. Grabbing my robe from the top of the dresser, I threw it over my shoulders and padded out to the kitchen. Just as the coffee finished brewing and I poured my first cup, the shower stopped. Again there was an interval before she opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway. She leaned around the corner to glance into the bedroom, thinking to confirm that I was still asleep. She wore only her collar and the three unconnected sets of cuffs at wrists, elbows and ankles.
"I'm in here," I said. "In the kitchen."
She dropped quickly to her knees, face down and ass in the air. She clasped her hands behind her back. "Forgive me, Master. I didn't expect. . . I didn't get a chance to wake you properly."
"And how would you have done that?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"With my mouth, Master, as you directed. With my lips and tongue," she answered without looking up.
"Consider yourself forgiven," I chuckled. "Kneel up."
She displayed herself for me, knees wide, torso erect, head bowed. Her hands stayed clasped behind her. '
"Would you like a cup of coffee, slut?"
"Yes, Master," she said softly. "If it pleases you." )
"Come in here, then."
"Of course, Master." She dropped to all fours to crawl slowly into the kitchen. Stopping beside me, she folded down, face to the floor and clasped her hands behind her. I felt her lips softly caress my ankle. I poured coffee into two white porcelain diner-style cups and added milk. I picked up the cups and, reluctantly pulling my feet away from her soft lips, stepped over to the kitchen table and sat. Setting the cups in front of me, I waved a hand at the opposite chair.
"Sit down. Relax for a minute," I told her.
She knelt up, her head bowed to avoid my gaze and replied, "I'd prefer to kneel."
"If it pleases you, Master, I'd prefer to kneel," she added hurriedly.
"On the bare tile, slut?"
"Yes, Master. I deserve no more. I failed you. . . ." She shuffled over on her knees to find a place beside the table. She again bowed face down to the floor.
"Relax, you did fine. I surprised you, that's all. I said you were forgiven. I'll decide if you've failed me. Got that?"
"Now drink your coffee and let's talk for a second."
She knelt up and took the mug in both hands. Her nipples were level with the table top. She took a sip of the steaming coffee and quickly set down the mug.
"I was pretty rough on you last night," I began.
"Yes, Master," She glanced up into my eyes quickly, almost furtively. Her lips crinkled. She was trying to hide a smile. "You were hard on me. But it was punishment you had decided for my disobedience."
"And how did you disobey me?"
"I came, Master, against your direct command. Five times."
"Did I make it possible for you to obey me?"
"No, Master. I could not obey you." She picked up her cup and held it in her clasped hands, below the table top.
"Was it fair to punish you, then?"
"I accept your wish to correct my behavior, Master." She took a gulp of coffee, then another. No longer trying to conceal her smile she looked straight up at me, boldly. "I accept your right to punish me for whatever reason you desire. I accept that you may punish me for no reason but your wish to do so."
I shook my head slowly and smiled back down at her. "Then you have no reservations about your decision to become my slave."
"No, Master. None."
"Not even after last night?"
"No, Master, especially not after last night."
"I don't think I quite understand that."
"Last night, Master, you made me completely yours. You took away every thing except my trust in you, my faith in you, my dependence on you. That's what I want, Master, what I desire, to be yours totally, heart, mind and body."
"And you're absolutely sure of that?"
"If you're that certain, then that is what I'll expect. Absolute submission."
"Yes, Master." She set down her coffee mug and bowed her head.
I could just see the corners of her mouth turned up through the cascade of her hair. She was still smiling.
I finished my coffee in silence. She had drunk most of hers in quick sips as we talked. Setting my empty mug on the table, I stood and looked down at her naked form. She knelt, head bowed and hands clasped behind her. She had barely moved since we finished talking.
"The bed's a mess," I said. "Change the sheets and start breakfast. I need a shower." As I passed her heading toward the bathroom, I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. I leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth. Our tongues sparred briefly before I broke away and dropped her hair. She quickly bowed her head.
"What are you waiting for? Get to work," I demanded before I closed the bathroom door.
I sat at the kitchen table and watched her with amusement as I ate my
scrambled eggs, toast and jam, then sipped my second cup of coffee.
She knelt in the middle of the floor, leaning over her breakfast plate.
A bowl full of orange juice sat on the floor beside the plate.
I could have made eating breakfast more difficult for her, by binding her hands behind or simply ordering her not to use them. As it was, she was once again in her "uniform" with ankle cuffs connected by about a foot of chain and her wrists by a single link.
I had allowed her no utensils. She had messily spread butter and jam on her toast with her fingertips. Eating the toast was no problem, she could easily raise it to her mouth, but the eggs were a different matter. After several unsuccessful tries with different techniques, she managed to hold a lump of egg between the fingertips of both hands and navigated it to her mouth before it oozed away. She was determined to eat it all, probably knowing that I would have insisted anyway. Finishing the eggs, she picked up the plate and licked it clean of crumbs and egg. She leaned over her bowl and lapped up orange juice, catlike.
"May I clean up the dishes, Master?" she asked, looking up from the empty bowl.
She stood, picked up her plate and bowl and placed them in the sink. Then she cleaned my dishes from the table and began to run dishwater. "Are you finished eating, slut?"
"Yes, Master, of course," she responded as she squirted soap into the sink, holding the bottle in both hands.
"I don't think so," I said, pointing at three yellow globs of egg in the floor.
"I'm sorry, Master. How could I have been so careless?" she said with a smile. She scooped up a sponge and leaned down to wipe up the spilled egg. "Stop." I said. She froze in mid-swipe. "Eat."
"But Master, it's on the floor."
"You clean that floor don't you?"
"Yes, Master, but I . . . "
"Yes Master. If course. If it pleases you, Master." She dropped to her knees, leaned down and carefully licked up each drop of egg from the floor. She licked an area about six inches across around each egg spot, leaving the floor wet, shiny and spotless.
"Very good, slut," I said. "You may stand to finish the dishes."
She rose, facing me. She looked down at her bound hands and held them out for me to see. "Master," she asked, "would you please release my hands so I can wash the dishes. I'm afraid I'll break something; my hands are so clumsy like this."
"I'd hate to have to punish you for breaking a plate," I smiled. I took her hands in mine and released the link between her wrist cuffs.
"Thank you, Master." She grinned up at me and began to turn toward the sink.
"Just a minute," I said, tightening my grip on her wrists. "I'm not going to make it that easy."
She pursed her lips and looked down at the floor. "No, Master. Of course not." I pulled the short chain from my pants pocket and clipped each end of it to her cuffs.
"There you go. Restrained, but not disabled. That should be quite serviceable."
"Yes, Master, quite," she replied, pulling her wrists apart with a jangling of chain. Her voice dripped sarcasm. I chose to ignore her tone.
"When you finish the dishes, get our food and drinks together for our picnic. I've got some things to get ready."
She turned and plunged her bound hands into soapy water.
I spanked her once, hard, on each ass cheek with my palm before I turned away from her.
"Thank you, Master," I barely heard her say as I left the kitchen.
Everything was ready for our picnic in the mountains. We had cheese, wine, mustard, paté, pickles and fruit packed in ice in a small cooler in the rear floorboard of the car. A blanket, bread. and some special goodies I had prepared were in a knapsack in the back seat.
Of course, I had let her dress to go out. She had said, "Barely, but dressed." She sat beside me in a tiny red bikini top and a pair of yellow high cut, skin tight nylon running shorts. I figured that was about the minimum to keep her from getting arrested if we were stopped in traffic.
Starting the engine, I looked around, as if preparing to back out of our parking spot. I stopped and shook my head, pretending to be surprised that I had "forgotten" something.
"Master?" she asked.
"I almost didn't remember this," I said, taking the pair of wraparound sunglasses that I had prepared the previous day out of my shirt pocket.
"Put these on," I ordered and handed them to her. She slipped the glasses over her eyes
“I cant’t see,” she said, her head darting from side to side, searching for light.
“No,” I replied, “I painted out the lenses.”
“This is mean, Master. How will I know where we’re going?”
“You won’t,” I said flatly. I reached across and twisted her left nipple through the thin fabric of her top.
"That was for calling me mean, slut."
"Thank you, Master. I can always count on you to correct me." The corner of her mouth twisted up in a barely noticeable grin.
"Cross your hands behind your back." She leaned forward, slid her hands behind her and leaned back.
"This isn't very comfortable, Master. How far are we going?"
“You don’t need to know,” I replied. “Are you complaining?”
“No, Master, I wouldn’t do that.” Her grin grew broader. “It was just an observation.”
“An observation. Of course.” I reached across her, lifted the latch and dropped open the glove compartment. A golf ball rolled out on the door.
“Do I have to, Master?"
"Now, slut." I tweaked her nipple again.
I popped the golf ball in her mouth before she had a chance to close it.
"Nnnnhhnnnnh." She nodded vigorously.
I put the car in gear and backed out into the drive.
Taking the interstate north, we quickly left the city behind. After
about forty-five minutes I exited the highway for a two-lane country road.
We passed the rolling hills of the great valley and started to climb into
It was a glorious June day, . I was enjoying the day and the drive, and hoping to build her anticipation of what might come. She, of course, held a golf ball in her mouth.
At the top of a narrow pass between two green mountains, I slowed the car nearly to a stop and turned off onto a narrow gravel road. We took a rough bounce as our wheels left the pavement, then drove on followed by a plume of dust and gravel. After crossing a wooden bridge over a small stream, the road turned sharply and wound up the mountain face.
We were nearing our destination. I turned off the tape player. I waited, listening to the wind and the crunch of gravel under our tires.
"Strip," I said.
"Hhnnh?" My slave turned blind eyes toward me and cocked her head, questioning.
"Strip," I repeated. "Now."
She nodded, then slipped her hands up her back to release the clasp on her top, letting it fall in her lap. She stiffened, lifting her bottom off the seat and slipped her shorts over her hips and to her knees. Leaning forward, she pushed her shorts to the floorboard and kicked them off her feet. She dropped the tiny top next to her shorts.
"Knees wide," I said. She spread her legs apart, right knee touching the car door and left knee next to the gear shift.
"Hands behind." She slid her hands once more between her back and the seat. I slowed the car to survey her nude body. I never grew tired of looking at her. I could see she was growing more and more excited as we climbed the mountain. Her face and neck flushed and she trembled, barely. As we rounded each turn, she cocked her head from side to side, trying, I suppose, to pick up some sound that would give her a hint about where we were. I don't think she found any clues.
About halfway up the mountainside another, smaller, rougher gravel track split off from the one we were on. I turned into the side road and immediately stopped. A steel gate blocked the way about fifty feet in.
"Wait right here," I told her unnecessarily. She could only guess where she was within a hundred-mile radius and besides, she was nude. She wasn't going anywhere.
I opened my door and stepped out. I walked to the gate, fumbling briefly with my key chain, then finding the small key I was looking for. I snapped open the padlock, pulled it free of the hasp and swung the gate out of the way.
The family of a good friend and college classmate owned the land we were about to enter. When I had asked about visiting to camp or picnic, he happily gave me the gate key. "It'll help to have somebody check in on the place now and then," he had said. "I doubt we'll get up there at all this summer." He couldn't know how happy I was to have a private mountain to play on.
I pulled the car just inside the gate, then swung the gate shut and re-locked it behind us.
"Almost there," I said as I put the car in gear and started up the rough track into the woods. She nodded slowly and smiled around the golf ball. The road wound through the woods for a few hundred yards and ended in a small grassy glade.
I pulled the knapsack and cooler out of the rear of the car and walked around to the passenger side.
"Get out, " I ordered.
She swung her door open and tentatively probed the ground with one foot. Feeling soft grass under her toes, she stepped out, stood for a moment, then dropped slowly to her knees on the warm turf. She leaned far forward, pressing her face to the ground and crossed her hands behind her back. Her knees spread far apart and her fanny pointed straight up, exposing her open cunt and asshole to the woods. She was an odd sight, huddled in the sun on the grass, wearing only a pair of plastic wraparound sunglasses.
"Do you know what I have planned for you now, slave?" I asked.
"I think so, Master," she replied without looking up, "but I'm afraid to say."
"Yesterday you made...you had me try on blinders," she began, "like a race horse would wear."
"Yes, slut." ¨
"You're going to use me as a horse, Master?" she asked. "I don't think I understand."
"You'll understand very soon. More precisely, you're going to be my pony," I replied. "My pack pony."
"Now, what does a pony have that you don't?"
"I've thought of that, but we'll have to make do with your feet, slave. What else?"
"A mane, Master?"
I reached down and stroked the hair at the back of her neck. "It looks like you've already got a mane, little pony."
"Yes, I guess I do, Master." She spoke straight to the ground.
"A real pony has hair all over her body?"
"I think your skin will do just fine." I rubbed my hand slowly down her naked back, then trailed my fingernails back up to her neck. She shuddered slightly.
"There's one more thing I think you may be avoiding," I told her.
"I wouldn't do that, Master. I wouldn't avoid anything you want of me."
"Yes, Master," she said. "One more thing." She paused, seeming to think very hard, although I was sure she knew what I had in mind. "A tail, Master. Ponies have a tail and I don't."
"You're right." I smiled. "Ponies have long tails. Do you want a tail, my pony?"
She hesitated, then began, "Yes, Master. If it pleases you." She stopped, then began again, "Yes. If I'm to be your pony, Master, please give me a tail."
I opened the top of the knapsack and fumbled around inside, looking for her "tail." She cocked her head to the side, trying to pick up every sound.
"Where should I put your tail?" I asked as I continue searching. "How does a human pony carry her tail?"
"In my asshole, Master," she replied, with a sparkle in her voice that sounded almost cheerful. "I'll hold my tail in my asshole."
"Yes, you will." I found one, then quickly the second and the third of the items I needed. I held the big butt plug with the leather loop at its base and tied the handle of the short leather flogger to the loop with a short strip of leather lacing. Crouching behind her, I smeared the end of the plug with K-Y jelly and pressed it against her puckered anus.
Her thighs tensed and she pushed against the plug. I pushed back steadily. She moaned softly, almost inaudibly. The rubber plug disappeared inch by inch into her ever-widening hole. Finally, the widest part of the plug slipped through and her sphincter closed around the narrow base. I released her tail and stood. The whip handle and lashes hung straight down, the ends of the leather strips lying on the ground.
"Thank you, Master. I couldn't be a proper pony for you without a tail." Her hips and thighs wriggled and her whole body swayed as she adjusted to the plastic cone thrust into her bowels.
"Thank you," she whispered to the grass.
"Kneel up," I ordered. She swung her hands down off her back, pushed herself upright, then recrossed her hands behind her back.
"Do you know where we are, slave?"
"No, Master." She turned her head scanning the field with sightless eyes. "I know we're in the mountains somewhere. In a field. I see just a bit of grass below and the sky glows blue at the top of the glasses. There are trees around; I can hear them brushing in the wind. The sun's out; it's warm on my back.
"Does it frighten you, not knowing where you are?"
"At first, when you made me strip in the car. I didn't know who might be around." She bowed her head. "But not now, Master. You're here. I know we're alone. You won't let anything hurt me, Master."
"I appreciate your trust." I gently stroked her hair, across the top of her head and down her back. She leaned softly against my hand, returning my caress with her body. "Now, what does a pack pony wear?"
"Blinders, of course, Master, if she's frightened or unruly." She smiled broadly."
"Yes, we already established that," I said. "What else? How does a pony's Master control her?"
"Well, the blinders are to calm her, Master." She cocked her head to one side and pursed her lips. "She'd wear a bridle and a bit, Master. He'd control her with reins."
"Good, good. How does a pack pony carry her load?"
"That's easy, Master. She wears a pack or saddle bags."
"Are you ready to put on your pony gear?"
"Yes, Master," she replied. "I'm all yours." She turned her head up toward the sound of my voice, a broad, bright smile on her lips.
"First we have something that's not strictly for a pony," I told her, while I rummaged through the knapsack again, "but I don't think you'd want to go on without it." I pulled out her collar and several sets of leather cuffs.
"Lift your hair."
She reached behind her head and pulled her long blonde hair up and away from her neck. I bent down and fastened the collar around her throat.
"Thank you," she said. "I'm beginning to feel naked without my collar."
"You ARE naked," I chuckled.
"I guess I am, Master." She laughed as well.
"The blinders are next," I said, pulling the leather device I had made the day before out of the knapsack. "Close your eyes. You are not to see your surroundings."
"Of course, Master." I pulled the sunglasses from her face, folded them and dropped them into the knapsack. Her eyes were tightly and deliberately shut. I arranged the two flaps of the blinders over her eyes and buckled the strap behind her head, just above the collar. I tugged gently on the strap to be certain it was secure, then said, "You may open your eyes now."
"Thank you, Master." She turned her head from side to side, scanning what little vision the blinders allowed her. The leather flaps restricted her sight to a narrow band straight down her body. She continued to hold her hair up, hands behind her neck.
"I don't want to catch you rocking your head back to see more."
"No, Master. I won't." She still smiled. I think she was enjoying her conversion into a pack pony as much as I did.
"The bridle and bit are next," I told her. "This I'm going to have to improvise." From the knapsack, I took a four inch long wooden dowel with a screw eye in each end and several lengths of cotton rope. I tied a rope to each screw eye.
"Master, may I say one more thing?" she asked.
"I love you, Master."
"Thanks, I love you too. Now, open."
She opened her mouth wide and I pushed the dowel back between her teeth, making a bit that both filled and opened her mouth. I took the ropes behind her head and tied them tight below her hair, just above the collar and blinder strap. I pulled my fingers down through her hair straightening and evening it.
"Pull your hair together, like a ponytail," I told her.
"Nnnhhnnh," she nodded and held her hair in a tight ring made by the fingers of both hands. I tied the ropes around this pony tail, capturing her hair, then ran them up over the top of her head to a knot over the bridge of her nose. I fed the ends back through the screw eyes in her bit, completing her bridle. The white ropes hung down to the ground at her feet.
"Drop your hands," I said. Her hands fell to her sides. I took the rest of her pony gear, more rope and a set of alligator clamps, out of the knapsack, then closed and tied shut the top flap.
"Behind." She clasped her hands at her back.
"Very good, very quick. You are getting the hang of this."
She nodded vigorously. I think the corners of her mouth would have turned up in a smile had the bit not prevented it.
"Okay, now. Lets get this pack on you." I picked up the pack and held it as she threaded her arms through the straps. With a twist of both shoulders, she seated the straps over her shoulders and down her chest next to her breasts. She bounced up and down a couple times, getting the feel of the weight on her back, her tits bouncing, almost independent of her body. Her nipples swelled and reddened.
"I have to make sure that pack stays on you." She cocked her head to the side, quizzically. I looped a rope from one strap above her tits to the other strap, then back, underneath them. I made a tight loop around each breast and finished by tying the first loops together between her red and swelling globes, pulling them together.
"Mmmmm," she moaned softly as I finished with her tits.
"Like that?" I asked.
"Mmmhhmmmh." She nodded.
"Good." I gave each engorged nipple a flick with my fingernails.
"Aaanh, aaanh." She jerked away from the pain, but made no move to stop me with her hands.
I strapped the cuffs she had worn the previous night back on her wrists and elbows. Pulling her left arm up and back, I clipped the elbow to a ring sewn to the top of the pack at its outside edge. Then I clipped the wrist cuff to another ring at the bottom. The process was repeated with her right arm. Her upper arms were held horizontal, almost straight back from her body, pushing her tits forward to project so far they almost seemed separate from her body. Her forearms pointed straight down at the ground, hands hanging just below the bottom of the pack.
"Comfy?" I taunted.
She rocked her head from side to side, in a noncommittal gesture. ˆ "Almost done," I said. "We'll be ready to go in just a minute." I took the set of alligator clips out of my pocket and held them just below her chin, so she could see them. "Brace yourself," I said. ˜
She took a deep breath and held it. I quickly clipped a clamp to each protruding nipple.
"Ssssssssssss," her breath hissed out around the bit.
I threaded each of the two ropes that would serve as reins through the ring connecting the clamps on that side to the chain between them.
"You'll have to follow me very attentively." I told her, giving the reins a gently tug.
"See what I mean.?"
She nodded vigorously.
"One last thing." I picked up the cooler. It was a small one, made to hold a twelve pack of beer or a picnic lunch. She tensed, hearing the ice rattle in the bottom. "You didn't think I was going to carry it, did you?"
Her head moved up, beginning a nod. She stopped, thinking better of her response, then hung her head and shook it slowly from side to side.
I stood behind her, holding the cooler. A cylindrical plastic handle stuck up above the top of the cooler at each end. I placed one handle in each of her bound hands. Her fingers coiled around to grip.
She nodded slowly. I gradually let go of the cooler. She leaned forward against the weight. Her shoulders pulled even farther back; her tits, round and swollen like red grapefruit, stuck out even more. The cooler swung on her pinned arms, its bottom even with the widest curve of her hips.
"On our way," I said, picking up her reins and giving them a gentle tugs as I started toward the trail head.
A sharp gurgling breath escape her bitted mouth and she fell in behind me. She would watch the reins very closely, making sure to follow their angle and following me closely to keep them slack. Any guidance I had to give by tugging on the leads would be agony on her clamped nipples.
The rope reins hung loose in my hand as I hiked along the trail down to
the spring. I walked slowly and carefully, giving her time to consider
and place each step. She was painfully harnessed and loaded.
I had no intention of allowing her to be injured and any misstep could end
in a fall. I spent as much time looking back to check her progress
as I did watching the trail ahead of me.
The blinders she wore allowed her to see to place her feet, but no view of the trail ahead. Each time she began to stray from the trail, I gave a gentle tug to the left or right on the two cords I held, pulling on one end of the bit that pinned her mouth open and on one nipple clamp. Each tug was followed by a muffled yelp and an immediate change in direction.
She padded laboriously along behind me. Her heavy breath hissed wetly around the wooden bit. Each step was punctuated by a rattle and thump as ice sloshed and the cooler bounced off her fanny. I think the way she carried that cooler was the worst of her trials. She could not just passively follow, but was forced to participate in her own torment. The weight strained her awkwardly twisted arms and shoulders, spreading her chest and cruelly tightening her breast bondage. She could have simply dropped the cooler, but I'm certain she assumed, correctly, that if she did, I would punish her and then make her carry it to our destination anyway.
The trail wound into the forest and we were soon out of sight of the car in a damp green world all our own. Within a few hundred yards, I heard the barely perceptible gurgle of running water.
As we tramped along that shaded ledge, the faint water sound grew slowly to a sparkling roar. The ledge dropped away before us and our destination came into sight. A sparkling torrent gushed from a split in the rock face, cascading twenty feet or more into a clear pool. The path ahead of us wound down through the rock face, then forded the stream below the pool. There was my perfect picnic spot, a sunny patch of short grass at the water's edge.
"Stop," I said, at the top of the crevice that would be our path down. My pony waited obediently behind me. Her breathing was heavy, but not labored. A tiny wince of pain crossed her face as each breath filled her chest, tightening the ropes around her breasts. Her tits were swollen like shiny tan grapefruit and certain to be very tender. Spittle oozed in a thin stream from each corner of her bitted mouth, running down her chin to mix with the sweat that beaded and ran on every part of her glistening body.
I walked slowly around behind her. She gripped the cooler's handles with trembling, white-knuckled hands. Her whole body trembled from the tension making the strands of her black leather tail flutter slightly as they hung down below the bright plastic cooler.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
She nodded slowly and deliberately, keeping her chin low so her reins pulled only slightly on her clamped nipples. She winced in pain, even from that slight motion. She made no noise but the steady hiss of her breathing.
"Could you go on much farther? As far again as we've come?"
Just as deliberately, she shook her head, wincing.
"I didn't think so. Here," I said as I took the cooler's handles, my hands beside hers. "You can let go now."
She slowly peeled her fingers from the plastic cylinders, transferring the cooler's weight from her hands to mine. She closed her hands again, opened them, closed, over and over to work out the pain and stiffness. She was by no means comfortable, but the strain lifted from her face and the trembling stopped.
I took the cooler and with a slosh and rattle of ice set it on the rock beside her.
"Can you go on now?"
She nodded quickly, and very slightly, the motion almost a flutter. She had found a way to respond without yanking on her tortured nipples.
I pushed two fingers lightly into the slit in the triangle of her cunt. My hand slid slowly down, then up the length of her wet pussy. She shuddered, then crouched slightly, pushing her pelvis harder against my probing fingers. I lightly pinched at her swollen clit, then withdrew my hand as she gasped.
"Rest for a few minutes," I said. "I'll be right back." I lifted the cooler and left her standing alone on the rock ledge. I picked my way down through the crevice. At the narrowest point my knuckles, held out on each side of the cooler, almost scraped the limestone walls. I reached the bottom in less than a minute, splashed across the stream and walked out onto warm grass. After setting the cooler next to the pool, I forded the water once more and clambered back up the passage to the ledge above.
I don't think she had moved during my brief absence. She stood naked and motionless on the ledge. Her breathing had calmed and the sweat began to dry on her bare legs and belly. She heard my approach and turned her head to the sound of my footsteps.
"We're almost there," I said. "This is the roughest part of the trail. I'll lead you down slowly." I took her reins loosely in my hand and started back down the trail. Once in the crevice, I shuffled along sideways, keeping an eye on her progress. She set each foot slowly and deliberately on the stone. I let the reins lie slack; there was no need to direct her path since there was only a narrow track down. She stepped out of the rock cleft and immediately splashed into cool spring water. Her second, third and fourth steps in the water followed very slowly. She examined the stream bed in detail before placing her feet, and felt and tested to be sure of her footing before shifting weight.
She stepped up onto the grass and stood, my naked human pack pony, in the bright sunlight.
"Are you feeling better now?" I asked as I dropped the reins.
She responded with that fluttering nod and a wiggle of her hips that swished the leather tail across the backs of her thighs.
"Much better, apparently."
She nodded quickly again.
"You could just about whip yourself if you tried."
She nodded slowly, wiggling her hips to swish her tail again, then bowed her head. I couldn't help smiling.
"Kneel," I commanded.
She slowly dropped to one knee, then slipped the second under her. She rocked to adjust her weight, then stepped out with each knee, spreading them wide and opening her bare and shining cunt.
She slowly swung over forward. About halfway over, the pack shifted toward her head. She shuddered and gasped sharply. The moving weight had twisted her elbows up and jerked at her already strained tits.
I crouched down behind her and gave her a hard slap on each ass cheek. I untied the thong that held the little whip to the plug I had pushed deep in her asshole. With my thumb, I pushed the center of the plug's base even deeper into her ass.
She gasped again.
I slowly pulled the plastic intruder from her stretched asshole. She moaned softly around the bit and visibly relaxed when the plug came free.
"Kneel up," I said as I rose and walked in front of her, casually swinging the whip. I don't know if she could see its motion.
She slowly swung her body upright, the shifting pack again coercing a gasp and shudder. Once she settled into position, to my surprise, her face composed itself into a smooth calm that, had her mouth not been firmly bitted, might have held a smile.
With the whip in one hand, I pinched open the clamp on her left nipple with the other.
"Hhhaaah," she gasped. Her tightly bound breasts had started to turn from tan to veined red. I knew I'd need to release them soon. I squeezed open the second nipple clamp and let the set slide down the rope reins on their chain.
"Hhhaaannnnnnnn," a low moan followed her gasp. Her pinned hands clenched at each side of the knapsack.
"You're not going to like this," I said, snapping my wrist to flick the whip's thongs across her right tit and nipple.
"Hhhaaannnnnnnn," gasp and moan again. I swung the whip back across the other tit. ""Hhhaaannnnnnnn. . . ." This time the moan continued. She rocked back away from the blow, but could not avoid the next one or the next. Soon her moaning became a garbled wail, rising to punctuate each whip stroke.
My blows soon left her tormented tits. Many strokes slashed across her slick belly. I finished her ordeal with five strokes straight into her bare and spread cunt. Her body rose higher with each blow; when I finished she knelt fully upright.
I dropped the whip on the grass and crouched before her. She whimpered softly around the bit. Starting with the center knot, I carefully released the ropes binding her breasts. I worked slowly, letting the blood return gradually. I dropped the rope beside her and unbuckled the cuffs at her wrists and elbows. I slid the knapsack off her aching shoulders and let it fall next to the cooler.
By now her whimpering had stopped and she breathed in a rapid rhythm around the bit. She shook her arms vigorously to get circulation going, then clasped her hands behind.
I untied the series of knots that made her bridle and pried the wooden bit from between her teeth. She worked her jaws in a circle, trying to relieve the ache. Finally I unbuckled the blinders and dropped them on the ground between her knees. Tears mixed with sweat on her reddened cheeks.
"Are you all right?" I asked
"Yes, Master. Oh, yes. Thank you, Master, " she sobbed. She blinked rapidly and lowered her head, unaccustomed to full sunlight. Soon, she looked up and surveyed the forest around her.
"Why are you thanking me, slut?" I asked, "For freeing you?"
"For bringing me here. For making me serve you, Master."
I smiled. "You are amazing, slave. What did I do to deserve you?" She smiled broadly and lowered her head. I brushed my hand gently through her damp and tangled hair.
"Where are we, Master?" she asked.
"Paradise," I replied.
"Master, where are we really?"
"Later," I said. "I don't want to spoil the illusion."
I reached out to gently caress her right breast. She winced and drew back reflexively from the tingling touch, then leaned forward to press her tit hard against my hand. She trembled.
"Relax," I said, softly kneading her aching tits.
"Mmmmm," she moaned. Her trembling became an involuntary quiver. Her breath quickened.
"You like that?"
"Yes, Master. I can't stop it."
I crouched in front of her and took one tit in each hand, kneading hard, feeling the blood flow returning. Taking one distended nipple between each thumb and forefinger, I squeezed hard.
She gasped. I pulled forward, pushed back ,forcing her body to sway, following her trapped nipples.
"Oh...please...yes, Master," she moaned, looking straight into my eyes. I slowly pushed her over backwards, still grasping her tits. She caught herself with her hands and slowly lowered her body to the ground.
My tongue replaced my fingers on her left tit, flicking, circling, and flicking again. I squeezed and released, squeezed and released her right nipple, as her moans followed the rhythm of my fingers.
She reached down to take my head in her hands, trying to direct my mouth off her tit and farther down her body.
"Oh no," I said, taking one wrist in each of my hands, then holding them together over her head. "I don't want any interference."
"No, slut. Clasp your hands."
"Please..." She slowly complied as I released my grip.
"Stretch them all the way out."
"Yes, Master. If it pleases you." She straightened her arms in the grass above her head.
I twisted one nipple hard.
"Ooww." She jumped, but her hands stayed in place.
My tongue gently flicked the same nipple, followed by sucking lips.
I continued to tease her already tortured breasts, fingers kneading and twisting, tongue flitting, lips sucking, nails flicking, teeth skimming and nipping. Her breath rose in a panting moan, mounting with each pain. Her legs twisted and flailed. She pulled her thighs together, rubbing and writhing.
"Stop that," I said. "Knees apart." Her legs continued to rub and writhe, involuntarily, it seemed. Rolling on top of her, I forced my foot between her knees and pinned her legs apart with mine.
I kept licking and pinching, slowly working my lips down and off her tits. I dragged my tongue slowly along the damp crease below each breast before starting across her belly with agonizing slowness. My body slowly slid along hers, as my lips and tongue covered every inch of her salty abdomen.
She squirmed beneath me, pleading, "Master. . .please. . .take me. . .I want you. . .Master. . .please. . . ."
She squirmed against me, bucking her hips, trying to press her aching and neglected cunt against my leg. I twisted and pinned her legs farther apart, stretching her naked sex wide open.
"Mmmmaaaahhhhh," she moaned in tormented ecstasy. I glanced up along her body to see her head thrown back, eyes closed. Her mouth moved, as if to speak, but found no words. Her hands clenched and twisted and re-clenched above her head.
My lips crossed from tanned skin to , from her belly to the shaven triangle of her sex. The skin here was soft and strangely cool. My tongue slid across barely rasping stubble, just appearing since her last shave. She bucked up again, sliding her cunt up and almost against my lips. I pressed her hips firmly down and pulled my mouth away.
"Mmmmm. . . please. . . Master. . . Please."
I drew my tongue slowly along the border between pale skin and tan, then slowly back. Now I held her legs spread with my arms and shoulders, allowing nothing to touch her spread and aching cunt.
"Mmmmm. . . please. . . Aaahhhhhh. . . ."
My tongue again slid across her white triangle, tracing a moist path just below the last. I methodically washed her shaved pubis with my tongue, back and forth and so slowly down, until I reached the top of her pink and soaking slit. My tongue darted quickly down, then up across her engorged clit before withdrawing. ¸
". . . .aaahhhhmmmmm. . . ." Her hips bucked up again, then settled slowly go the ground. I held my lips just above her straining cunt and blew a soft stream of air into that moist slit and across her nether lips.
". . . .Mmmmm please. . . Master. . . Mmmmm," she gasped.
Ignoring her spread sex, I ran my tongue slowly down the crease between thigh and pubis, then up the other side. I flicked my tongue into her wet cunt, between the open petals of her labia and out across her clit. The trembling that had never stopped became a shudder. Her thighs twitched against my shoulders and her heels dug into my back and rolled against my ribs. My tongue flicked lightly across her clit, then again.
Her moaning rose to an animal wail. Her heels pounded hard into my back. Her hips bucked and lifted off the ground, pushing me up with them. I flicked my tongue slowly and lightly across her clit. With each brush, her hips bucked and heels dug. She wailed and gasped and wailed. Finally, her hips bucked high and, with a last shudder, slowly dropped back to the grass. Her breath came hard and heavy. Once again she was covered head to toe in sweat.
"Master. . . Oh God. . .Master," she panted between gasps. Her hands remained clasped above her head.
I rolled off her and quickly stripped off my t-shirt and shorts. Slipping back between her spread legs, I placed the tip of my hard cock against her open cunt and pressed home. I slid easily into her wet and waiting hole. As I leaned fully on to her, she locked her ankles around my back and rocked her hips up to meet me.
I took her hair in both my hands, pulling her head back. My lips found her exposed throat and covered it with wet kisses. Though she had just cum violently, she quickly returned to that orgasmic frenzy, moaning and rocking, holding me hard inside her, caught between her hips and heels.
I came quickly and explosively, releasing my sperm deep inside her as every muscle in her body seemed to tighten, then lock. I released my grip on her hair. She ever so slowly relaxed. Her feet slid down my sides and dropped heavily to the ground.
We lay there in the sun, locked together, for what seemed like hours. It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes.
I slid slowly out of her and knelt in the grass between her legs. I heard the rush of the waterfall and birds high in the trees. Her heavy panting breath slowed and slowed. She lay still except for the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at me.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"There you go, thanking me again."
"But I'm so happy, Master. Have I pleased you?"
"Exquisitely, " I replied. "My slut, my slave, my pony, my lover. I couldn't be more pleased."
"Then you'll accept that I really am your slave?" she asked.
"I don't think I have a choice," I responded with a smile.
"No, Master," she said, beaming up at me. Her arms stretched straight out on the ground above her head, her hands clasped.
"Come with me," I said, rising to my feet. She scrambled up behind me as I waded into the sparking pool beneath the waterfall and fell face first into the cold spring water. She splashed in beside me. We found each other in an underwater kiss and burst gasping to the water's surface.
We played for hours in that green mountain paradise. Splashing in the pool, walking naked through the woods, eating our food and drinking our wine on a table cloth laid on the grass in the warm sun.
I neither tied her nor whipped her nor demanded anything of her. She followed me without question down trails in the unknown woods. She called me Master every time she spoke and knelt beside me spread and open while I relaxed on the grass. She waited for me to offer every sip of wine or morsel and picked grapes from the table cloth with her teeth when I dropped them there for her.
The sky was still completely light, but the sun had vanished behind the mountain to the west when I told her to pack up and get ready to leave. She dumped the remaining ice out of the otherwise empty cooler and stuffed table cloth, trash and empty wine bottle into the knapsack. I pulled on my boots and shorts and shirt while I watched her pack.
She coiled up the rope and set it on the ground beside the pack. Last, she gathered the whip, the ass plug, the wooden bit and the nipple clamps, placing them within the rope circle. She knelt obediently beside our collected gear. - ˜ ‘¸ ’
"Every thing seems to be here. Are you ready, pony?"
"Yes, Master," she replied, bowing her head.
"Good," I said as I picked up the ass plug and whip. "Face down."
"Is this necessary, Master?" She looked up at me, feigning wide-eyed amazement.
"Of course, Master. I know it pleases you." She rolled forward, forehead to the ground, and crossed her hands behind her raised back. "I'm happy to be your pony, Master."
I tied the whip handle to the plug. After placing four hard spanks on each of her ass cheeks, each followed by a sharp gasp,I set the plug's tip against the rose of her ass hole and began to push. The plug slowly slid in, then popped into position as her sphincter closed around its narrow base.
I tied and loaded her as my pack pony, just as before. She stood wearing pack and blinders, arms and breasts tightly bound. The wooden bit pushed back between her teeth held her mouth open. Nylon reins hung from the corners of her mouth and through the rings on her clamped nipples, promising anguish to come. Even so, she wiggled her ass playfully, swinging the leather tail against her thighs.
"Ready?" I asked. She nodded. I lifted the light and empty cooler and placed it in her bound & waiting hands. She bounced on her toes to get a feel for the weight and again swung her hips, swishing the tail imbedded in her ass.
"Easier this time?"
She nodded again.
I took the reins in my hand and slowly waded across the stream. She followed, with cautious steps, tormented and happy.
It was near dark when we reached the car. Though the path back was uphill, he had a much easier time than on the way down, relieved of the weight of wine, food and ice. I released her from her pony harness and dropped the knapsack and cooler into the back seat.
I removed the blinders last, giving her a glimpse of the field and forest in the last of the fading twilight. She stood beside our car, naked except for the leather collar she had worn most of the day. I handed her shorts and bikini top to her before I reached out to unbuckle the collar. ì
"Master, please. . . ."
"Please, Master, don't take off my collar."
"If it means that much to you. . ."
"It does, Master. I want to be your collared slut. . .always.
"Then give me those." I reached out my hand. For a moment, she didn't move, not realizing what I wanted. Then, she reluctantly gave me the shorts and top. I tossed them in the back seat, next to the cooler.
I opened the car door and said, "Get in."
"Yes. My collar is all you need to wear."
"Yes, Master." Her smile was radiant, lighting the summer night. "But if we're stopped?"
"That will be a problem."
She shook her head slowly and stepped into the car. I waited for her to position herself, with hands behind her back and legs wide apart, before swinging the door shut. Our headlights reflected back a circle of the night's eyes as I swung the car around and headed down the mountain.
I carried the knapsack and cooler from our car up to the apartment.
She padded behind me, naked under the tablecloth I draped over her shoulders.
We were both exhausted from the day's adventure, but not so exhausted that she didn't insist on being put into her "uniform" before we collapsed into bed. So we slept, nested together like spoons, she collared, with her wrists and ankles chained a foot apart. ¨
She woke me early Monday morning, as instructed, with her tongue. She licked and sucked me slowly and gently, then hard and deep, until I cam in the back of her throat.
She fed me a quick breakfast in bed. She sent me to the door at a quarter to six, with my bag, which she had packed without my knowing.
"Good bye, slave. I'll see you Friday," I said as I turned to the door.
"Good bye, Master," she replied, folding herself face down on the floor. I crouched down at her side, took her face in my hands and lifted it up to mine. We kissed long and deep.
I broke away, picked up my bag and opened the door without another word. Looking back before closing the door behind me, I saw her chained hands, palms flat on the floor at each side of her head where she knelt in perfect submission.
I called her before I left the office on the next Friday afternoon.
"Hello," she answered.
"Oh, Master, I'm so glad you called. How are you? When do you think you'll get here?"
"I'm fine, I've had a good week. I'll be leaving in just a few minutes. I'll probably get there about seven fifteen again. Are you ready?"
"Yes, Master, I can't wait."
"Good. What are you wearing?"
"Nothing, Master, as you directed."
"Just the collar, Master. And my "uniform." I've been wearing it all week, except when I go out."
"I didn't require that."
"No, master, but it just feels right. I wish I never had to take them off."
I chuckled into the telephone. "Okay, then. You'll have dinner ready when I get there?"
"Of course, Master, I've already started it." She paused, somehow letting me know she had more to say. "Master?"
"Can I wear my tail till you get here?"
I chuckled again, shaking my head. "Yes, if it'll make you happy. And the ring gag too."
"Oh, thank you, Master." She sounded absolutely buoyant.
"Bye now. See you in a couple hours."
"Bye, Master. I love you."
"I love you too, slut." Click.