Surfing the Internet for bondage so you don't have to

Dressed in black slacks, plain leather loafer shoes without socks and a crisp open neck white dress shirt, I open the door to the cyberspace isolation chamber and quietly step in; the reddish-orange glow immediately envelops me.

She is lying face down on the pillows facing away from me, her hands cuffed behind her back just above her cute round butt. Her legs are bent at the knee, her right foot twisting in the air back and forth slowly. She is also wriggling her toes, as she simply lies there unable to distinguish between consciousness and unconsciousness.

I cough lightly. There is no response. Coughing louder, I see her sensual body tense from her toes to her fingers, but other than to slowly lower her legs she does not move further.

With my third cough she turns her head. Suddenly with a start she sees the open door of the cyber chamber behind me. Still dazed and disorientated I can see that she is unable to tell if she is awake or dreaming. She rolls on to her side and then brings up her right knee under her, pushing her head down as she does so to take her weight on her forehead. Then somehow she manages to pull her torso up and roll so that she is sitting legs bent at the knees and splayed open to the extent that her chained ankles allow.

Her blue eyes look towards me but I can tell she does not yet comprehend anything as she sits facing me, totally naked, hands cuffed behind her back. The chain from her collar loops towards her bare breast before it runs up to the ceiling.

Marveling at the beautiful woman sitting helpless and hesitant in the middle of the room, I have almost forgotten how truly beautiful she is. She still has a very glazed expression on her face as she continues to stare at the white light coming into the open door behind me and she slowly begins to twist at her cuffed hands and arms, shifting her hips from side to side.

I place my finger on my lips indicating that I do not want her to speak. Judging from the unseeing look in her eyes, I simply stand watching her, waiting for her to return to reality. It is obvious that she is having difficulty focusing on what is happening. I quietly drink the loveliness I possess so totally, waiting for her to awake to my presence. I love to have a beautiful slave girl’s delicate neck collared and chained.

After several more minutes she attempts to get up on one knee, but falls on her side. Walking over to her I unlock the chain from her collar and lifting her up and into my arms, I carry her outside the isolation chamber and stand her upright.

For the first time I speak to her.
“Look pretty girl I have brought a single sleeve glove with me. It is your single sleeve glove. Would you like for me to put it on you and let you out of here.”

There are only a few moments of hesitation, and then in her eyes and face, an expression of understanding appears. She says:

“Yes, please.”

“Very well pretty girl, come over here and kneel in front of me”

I watch her glance at the open door behind me and bite her lower lip, as she stands not moving and now again looking into my eyes. Next she lowers her eyes and head but does not move. Once again I say:

“Over here pretty girl, kneel in front of me for your single sleeve glove.”

She bites her lower lip, looks at my eyes and then at the floor, not moving. Suddenly she looks at me again, extreme fear in her eyes as she bites her lip even harder. She is breathing very hard now, her breasts heaving. Other than this she does not move.

I ask:

“Would you like to say something to me? “

She lifts her head and nods. I wait, finally she says:

“Yes, please.”

Her tone is very icy.

“Then go ahead, pretty girl.”

“ My name is Heather Ryan, and while I would like for you to call me Ms. Ryan! you can call me Heather! Please call me by my name.

Her face and chest flushes red. Erm…, you are an attractive man, the sex thing is ok. I’ll do whatever you ask. I’ll be your slave.

But it’s,. …………., this kneeling down in front of you thing. I can’t do it. You have to understand, it’s the last part of the former me, and you have to understand that if I kneel in front of you, and if I do that, all of what I was will be gone. I have thought about this a lot. I cannot kneel submissively in front of you. I will no longer be me.

I know you can beat me up, but please don’t. Please leave me this one last part of my former self and dignity. I am not going do it. I will not kneel. Let me just stand here while you put that thing back on me. And why do I have to wear that awful thing anyway? Let me love you as any normal girl would. Oh please!! …. Sir!”

I watch the tears stream as I say:

“You are a slave girl now. A slave girl does not need dignity. A slave girl needs to obey. I have told you, your name is pretty girl. It is a truly deserved name. You are very beautiful.”

Her jaw is firmly set as she says:

“No! My name is Heather Ryan and I am not going to voluntarily kneel in front of you. I will not do it.”

I take a step towards her, watching her cower down.

“Disobedience carries quite a price.

Have you ever been formally whipped for being disobedient?