Summer Slave

Prologue
 

I called her before I left the office on Friday afternoon.

"Hello," she answered.

"Hello, slut."

"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 it about seven fifteen.  Are you ready?"

"Yes, Master, I can't wait."

"Good.  What are you wearing?"

"Nothing, Master, as you directed."

"Nothing?"

"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."

"Yes, master."

"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 town most of the time,
but it allowed 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 1 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 black
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 8 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.

 

 

 

Chapter 1

Welcome Home

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 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 12" 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
D-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
she had never thrown herself so totally into submission before.  I had only
been gone 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 tit.

"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."

"Get up."

Again, she bowed face down to the floor and struggled shakily to her feet. 
Grabbing her shoulders, I spun her around and unclipped the wrists 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 12 X 16 living room separated from a minimal 
kitchen/dining area by a counter.  A short hallway led past the bathroom to
our bedroom and a second bedroom we used an office and studio.

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 12" 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."

"Yes, Master."

When she returned, I had her kneel facing me about 2 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."

"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 . . . " "Cunt, slut."

"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."

"Why 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. It's your badge of submission."

"Master, I couldn't do that."

"None of them would believe it anyway."  
She had licked the saucer dry by then, and I had emptied my glass.

"Get us our salads, slut."

"Master, I ate earlier.  I wanted to be able 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 quickly returned, 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.   She
served me my sandwich (roast beef and swiss on rye) the same way.

========
 

Chapter 2

THE WHIPPING

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.
"What, slut?"
"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."
"Show me."
She turned and knelt face down, her gorgeous tanned ass spread toward me.
"See, Master?  Whip my back and my ass."
"Where else?"
"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."

"Please, Master."
"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. "Much better."

"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. "Stand."  

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. "Okay?"

"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. "More, then?"

"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 kneeled 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 stopped.

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."

"What?"
"Nnhh, nnyhh."
"Thank you?"
"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?"
"Devastating, Master."
"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."
"Meany."
"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.
"What, slut?"
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."

"Nnnhh nnnhh."   Five more lashes landed behind her knee.  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. "Okay, one."

Swish. "Nnnuooo"
"Two"
Swish.  "Nnnehh"
"Three."
Swish. "Nnnnhhhh"
"Four."
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. "Count."

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 revelled 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?" "Sore, Master."

"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. "Yes, Master?"

"Open wide."  She obediently opened her mouth.  I pushed the much smaller
ball between her lips and buckled the strap behind her head. "Better?"

"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. "Feel good?"

"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.
"You're sure?"
"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 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.

========
 

Part 3/10

 

GOOD MORNING

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 her parting.  
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 dark 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." "Yes, Master?"

"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." "Why's that?"

"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?"
Smack. Smack.
"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 pale 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?"

"Yes."
"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 straps 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. "Ready?"

"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.  King Crimson played on the stereo; I 
think it was "Red." 
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 labia. "Ready to go?"

She cocked her head to one side, with an expression of puzzlement, as if to
say, "Like this?" "Well, slut?"

"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?"
"No, Master."
"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."
"What?"
"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.
"Not yet."
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."
She stood.
"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.

"Let's go."

========
 

Part 4/10

 

Chapter 4

SHOPPING

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." "Yes, Master."

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.

"Me?"
"Yes, you."
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 suede 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."

"Ooooooo."
"Sit, slut."
"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 . . . "
"Now."
"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.

"Hnnh?"
"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 . . . "
"Master!" "...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?"

"Exactly."
"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 pate 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 that peppercorn pate. 
A quick run through the express lane.  I was climbing the steps to our
apartment in little more that 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 here 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 to 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 studio 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." 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 .

========
 

Part 5/10

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

 

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."

"Yes?"
"I took it out to shower, Master, but since you hadn't removed it yourself,
I washed it and put it back in." "I see."

"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. "Yes, slut."

"Master, I think I know what you're making . . . ,"she hesitated, dropped
her head. "Yes?"

"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." "Slut?"

"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. "Blinders?

"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 pale 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
black hair cascaded around her shoulders, ending just above her erect pink
nipples. She smiled, looked straight at me with dark brown 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 strap across her instep, then the ankle
strap.  She slipped her foot to the floor and repeated the process with the
other.  She made a show of it, making sure to stretch her legs wider than
needed and show me her  shaved and open cunt with each motion.  She rose to
her feet, teetered for an instant on the ridiculous spike heels, then
stepped over to retrieve the corset from the floor.  She turned directly
away from me.  Placing her feet shoulder width apart, she bent over 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, pale 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.
"Ooowww.  Master!" 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.  
"Oh!  Master!"
"What, slut?"  Thump.
"Oh! Master!"
"What?"  Thump.
"Oh! Master!  Yes!"
"What?"  Thump.
"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.  
"Ow."
"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."
"Master?"  
"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."

"Yes?"
"But just a little, Master.  And the chain is cold."
"Slave?"
"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."

========

Part 6/10

 

DINNER CONVERSATION

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, Master."

"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." 
I nodded.
"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." "Yes, Master."

"You know enough to about them to say that some of it frightens you."
"Yes, Master."
"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." "Yes, Master."

"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."

========
 

Part 7/10

 

PUNISHMENT

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."
"Go!"
"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 pale triangle at her sex offset perfectly by dark hair and 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." "Yes, Master."

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
maddening.  
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 between 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 up and away, and I know
twisting her shoulders painfully.  She arched her back and presented her ass 
to the whip as best she could.  She struggled to bend farther forward, to
stretch her ass and thighs for the whip. I covered her backside with
strokes, from her knees to her hips.  Her gasps slowly settled into a wet,
steady moan that barely rose as each blow fell. At twelve fifteen, I dropped 
the whip in the floor.  She was 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?"

"Go ahead."
"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.

========

Part 8/10

Chapter 8

PREPARATIONS

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 refreshed.  
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." "Yes?"

"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?" "Yes, Master."

"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?"

"Yes, absolutely."
"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. "Go ahead."

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 . . . "
"Eat it."
"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, pate,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 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 can't see," she said, her head darting form 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. "Ow!"

"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.  "This should keep you out of trouble," I said, grabbing the ball. 
"Open wide." "Do I have to, Master?"

"Yes."
"Now?"
"Now, slut." I tweaked her nipple again.
"Ow!"
I popped the golf ball in her mouth before she had a chance to close it.
"All ready?"
"Nnnnhhnnnnh." She nodded vigorously.
I put the car in gear and backed out into the drive.

========

Part 9/10

 

Chapter 9

PONY

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 the
mountains.   
It was a glorious June day, clear and warm.  It seemed the whole world was
bright blue sky and growing green life.  Sunlight through trees dappled the
road ahead of us.  Wind whipped through our open windows and roared over
rock and roll turned up loud on the tape player. I glanced over at my slave. 
Her head bounced and her bare feet patted the floorboard in time with the
music.  Her hands remained crossed between her back and the car seat.  
Neither of us had spoken since our journey began.  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." "Tell me."

"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." "Yes, Master?"

"Now, what does a pony have that you don't?"
"Hooves, Master?"
"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. "Anything else?"

"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."
"Well?"
"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. "Yes,
Master?" "Lift your hair."

She reached behind her head and pulled her long dark 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. "Open wide."

"Master, may I say one more thing?" she asked.
"Yes, slut."
"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.

"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.  
"NnNNNnnn."
"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. "Got it?"

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.

========

Part 10/10

Chapter 10

THE PICNIC

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, the trail headed
down and moss covered rock walls closed in on us from both sides.  Damp
earth underfoot gave way to stone.  We threaded our way through a narrow
defile, barely four feet wide.  As we turned a corner through the rock, the
wall to our left dropped away, placing us on a wide ledge about fifty feet
above the floor of a narrow gorge.  Sunlight dappled  the opposite mountain
face and my ears caught a 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 pale 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. 
"Face down."
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?" "No, Master."

"What, then?"
"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?"
"Oh yes."
"You're trembling."
"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." "But, Master..."

"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.  
"Mmmmm, Master....yes."
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 pale, 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.  
".  . . .Mmmmmplease.  . . 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. "Yes."

"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. "Master,
please.  . . ." "What, slut?"

"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." "Like this?"

"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.

 

Epilogue

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.
"Hello, slut."
"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."
"Nothing?"
"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?" "Yes, slut."

"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.

THE END