The Enslaving of Anna

©2004 by C. A. Smith

Chapter 1

There are whole books telling you how to deal with slaves. The hell with them! I can train my own damn slave. I knew from the moment I met Anna that I had to have her. Not just have her; own her. She was ripe for it, too. A wild little thing silently crying out for control. Well now, by God, she's going to understand the meaning of "control." And not by force. She wants it. Needs it. Agreed to it in writing and with a blood oath. She's mine now, my property. She loves me. She fears me. She has acknowledged that the only purpose of her existence now is to serve me.

The key to that service is instant and automatic obedience. This does not come easily and naturally to any human being, but to some it is the only path to a satisfying life. With Anna, the contradictory elements of her character — that unstable mix of shyness and exhibitionism, abject needfulness and chaotic rebellion — combined to make perfect psychological clay for the molding of an ideal slave. In her old vanilla life when life's arbitrary rules ground her spirit down, she reacted by unleashing a hidden wild side that often got her into trouble. Shocked by her own behavior, she would then withdraw again into the hang-tail, guilt-ridden shell of her Catholic upbringing. She was a confused and unhappy child who grew into a confused and aimless young woman — promiscuous and daring during the anonymous excesses of spring breaks in Florida, cloistered and unsure of herself when back on her college campus. The wild Anna rode on a strange young man's shoulders, snugging her crotch to the nape of his neck, baring her breasts for the chanting crowds with their video cameras in return for free beer, giving her body over to multiple strangers when the beers overtook her Catholic inhibitions. Back in the dorm the shy hang-tail girl found it impossible to express her true emotional and sexual needs to the multitude of suitors who dated her for her beauty, screwed her for their gratification and then passed on to more promising (i.e. less neurotic) pastures. The fools failed to recognize the wonder that lay just below the surface of the quixotic young Anna.

But I recognized it at once. I'm a lot older than the college boys who fumbled their opportunity to harvest this sweet treasure. I'm also a practicing psychiatrist and know a thing or two about how to coax dark secrets from unhappy humans.

Anna was twenty-one, had just finished her second year at nearby St. Andrews College and was dreading the third. I had concluded a stint as guest lecturer there and met her in a pub that was popular with both students and faculty. Five minutes into our conversation I realized I was inordinately attracted to her. It was also clear that she was an extraordinary butterfly trapped in society's web of numbing conformity. She obviously enjoyed talking to me, too. Four drinks later her defensive shyness crumbled and she let herself follow me to a quiet corner booth. It was there I extracted her secret and knew just how I was going to win her.

Like everyone, she wanted to be loved. Ached to be loved. But the boys who verbally salivated over her lush body and exquisite face, who poured out their devotion with tender endearments, plied her with extravagant gifts and wooed her with ringing testaments of their adoration, bored her silly. She let them fuck her just to get rid of them. What really turned her on, she confided through the haze of her growing intoxication, was to be treated badly. She liked to be roughed up, slapped around, taken harshly. Her fantasies involved a strange man kidnaping her, tying her up and spanking her mercilessly when she tried to escape. She could make herself wet by imagining a scene where her abductor drags her into a motel room, beats her into submission, rapes her, then leaves her naked, trussed up and helpless, to be found the next morning by a shocked chambermaid. Next she suffers the added humiliation of being ogled by the hotel manager and police as they struggle to undo her tight restraints, their fingers skimming across her belly and nipples, their eyes sliding to the sexual juices seeping from her abused vagina, glistening on her inner thighs. But, of course, she was horrified by these fantasies, thinking they indicated some kind of mental flaw.

My profession was her shield. She felt safe confiding in me. I wouldn't belittle her, call her weird. That made it easy for me. I assured her that while her fantasies and sexual preferences were not ordinary and bland, they were definitely not abnormal, that many others share her feelings and are excited by images of violence. A casual glance at movie listings supports that fact. I promised to bring her some books on the subject. That, of course, was simply a ruse to set up a second meeting. Which led to actual dates. She soon realized I was not a vanilla date. I never asked her for a kiss, I just seized the back of her neck and kissed her, squeezing her breasts with the other hand. I never told her how lovely she was, but I let her see it in my eyes and in the increasing intimacy between us.

On the fourth date I drove her to my home, mixed three round of tequilas, then ordered her to stand up and remove her clothes. She blinked and hesitated, speechless. I repeated the order more sternly. An odd look crossed her face, but she stood up and did as she was told, slowly peeling off her dress and stepping out of her shoes. Dressed only in a bra and thong she hesitated again, her hands in midair.

"Go on. Those, too. Now!" I left no room for doubt in my tone.

Anna trembled visibly, warming to a fantasy becoming real, and reached behind her back. The bra came loose and she shrugged it off. Looking me steadily in the eyes, she slipped her thumbs under the sides of the thong and pushed it down, letting it drop to her feet. She stepped out of the ribbony tangle and nudged it aside with her left foot. She was magnificent, her young breasts firm and upright, her figure trim, her skin a healthy pink and virtually unblemished, her pubic bush neatly trimmed to a racing stripe. I sat and enjoyed the sight of her without saying a word. The silence made her nervous, as silence always does in our culture. But when she started to speak, I raised my hand.

"No. Don't say a word. Stand there quietly. Be proud of your nakedness. Let me take you in."

I let nearly two minutes crawl by, then told her to turn slowly, a full 360 degrees. She took a deep shuddering breath and did an awkward, self-conscious turn. When she had completed it, I shook my head.

"No. Slower. More gracefully. Glory in your beauty. Show it off."

Her eyebrows flicked up, surprised at my criticism. But she smoothed out her expression, smiled slightly — getting into it now — and began a much more elegant turn. I rewarded her success with a nod. I let her stand a few more minutes before rising from the chair where I'd been sitting. I walked slowly around her, trailing the length of her long, dark, honey hair through my fingers. When I was at her side, three quarters of the way around, I kissed the top of her shoulder, then gently bit her neck, then kissed her deeply on the mouth, drawing her tongue between my teeth. In a sudden move I swept her up into my arms and carried her upstairs into my bedroom and stood her beside my king sized bed.

"Now remove my clothes," I said.

She smiled a little coyly and began unbuttoning my shirt. When I made no effort to help her, she unbuckled my belt, ran the zipper down and let my pants fall to a heap. She glanced up at my eyes seeking approbation, but I kept my face blank. She sighed and went about the more clumsy process of removing my shirt, the maneuver requiring her to lean in and let her nipples brush against my chest. My cock, already at half mast, instantly came to full attention against her thigh. She smiled more broadly, flipped my liberated shirt over to a chair and began sliding my shorts downward over my engorged member. I made no move to help so she was forced to squat down where she could untie my shoes to complete the process.

"Get on your knees to do that," I told her.

She glanced up, clearly nonplused that I was continuing to order her around, and undoubtedly amazed that she was letting me. And enjoying herself.

She had been sitting on her heels, balancing on her toes. Now she rocked first left, then right, as she switched to a kneeling position. This was both more comfortable for her and, more important for my purposes, a more useful posture. Kneeling can be sustained for long periods. It's a position which can be practical, worshipful or obsequious. Or all three. Anna had only begun to learn the joys of obedience. She was about to have her first taste of complete submission and humility.

Both shoes were untied, my pants and undershorts pooled around my ankles. Still I did not move. Anna looked up at me and frowned. "Well, are you going to help me here?" she grumped.

I adopted an ominous glare. "What did you say to me?"

She snorted with exasperation. "I said are you going to . . ."

I grabbed a fistful of her hair and twisted it, drawing a yelp of pain. "I believe you meant to phrase that more respectfully, little one. Try it again." I held on tight and gave no indication of relenting.

Grimacing from the pain and looking a bit frightened at the unexpected brutality, Anna gasped and said in a small voice, "Would you please lift your foot so I can take these off?"

I smiled at her but did not let go. "Certainly." Using my grip on her hair for balance, I raised each foot just high enough to let her slip the shoe, sock and clothing off and out of the way. She dropped her eyes to her work but couldn't lower her head. When she was finished, I let her stare up at me for a long minute. I smiled and nodded to let her know she was on the right track, relaxing my grip on her hair and caressing her cheek and neck with my free hand.

"Now take my cock and balls into your hands."

She did as she was told, holding them as though she were offering a sacred oblation.

"Open your mouth."

She licked her lips and parted them, never taking her eyes off mine.

"You know what to do next. Do it lovingly, using your tongue and your lips, lathering my cock and balls all over, sucking them."

I could see and hear her breathing quicken. This exercise was turning her on in spite of her fright, or perhaps because of it. My own excitement was such that I was already close to orgasm. Tightening my grip on her hair, I pulled her off me, picked her up and dropped her on the bed on her back. Startled, she started to pull her legs up, so I grabbed her knees, forced them apart, climbed between them and rammed myself into her. She cried out and squirmed, but I paid no attention, pumping rapidly until I exploded inside her. When I came fully to my senses I realized Anna's eyes were closed, her teeth bared and her own body bucking in sexual frenzy. I let her ride it out, waiting until the seizures slowed and stopped before withdrawing from her and rolling to the side of the bed. I cupped a hand over her sex, slipping a finger into the orifice that was now dripping our combined liquors. She opened her eyes and smiled at me. I twisted my finger around inside her for a few seconds, making her moan, then drew it out and touched it to her lips. A look of incredulity swept across her face — she had obviously never thought of such a thing before. Then her expression softened and she touched her tongue to the finger, tasting the fruits of our lovemaking.

For that's what it was. Love. I knew I had to have this girl and I knew if she was not yet in love with me, she soon would be. I offered the one vital ingredient that was missing in her life, the ingredient essential for her happiness. And I was about to drive the point home.

"Get up, Anna," I said quietly.

She looked offended, apparently thinking that having quenched my sexual need, I was about to dismiss her.

"Get up," I repeated gently. "There's something we have to do. Come stand over here." I patted the outside edge of the bed to the right of where I was sitting.

That seemed to reassure her. She rolled off the opposite side of the bed and came around to stand beside me, her eyes bright and inquisitive. "Yeah?" she chirped.

"I like you, Anna," I said, watching her face glow. "You're a very special girl. And I'm a very special man. You're different from ordinary women and I'm different from ordinary men. The wonderful thing is, we're both different in the same way. We fit. We're a matched set, you and I. We're going to stay together, Anna, because no one else will make either of us as happy as we can make each other. Even though we've only been together half a dozen times, even though we've only been intimate this once, even so I know deep in my soul that we are a perfect fit, you and I, in spirit, mind and body. You feel that too, don't you, Anna?"

This was obviously moving a bit fast for the girl, yet I knew from our previous conversations, from our mutual body chemistry and from her own body language that she was falling in love with me. It was just a matter of getting her to admit it to herself and say it out loud.

She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath. "Yes. It's true," she whispered. I felt it the first time I met you at that pub. But tonight you scared me a little. I'm not sure I know you all that well."

"I intended to scare you a little, because that's what you want. That's your fantasy, isn't it. Having someone take control of you forcefully. That's what turns you on."

She chewed her lip, unable yet to admit the obvious, but knowing it was true.

"You were a little embarrassed tonight when I ordered you to strip," I went on, "and humiliated when I made you stand naked while I examined you. There was pain when I pulled your hair. But it all translated eventually into erotic pleasure, didn't it? It's what you've been craving all these years; rough sex, the feeling of being raped. And I delivered it, didn't I?"

"I guess you did."

"You guess?"

"Yeah, all right, you did. It was great."

I stood up and gathered her against me. "I'll tell you straight out, Anna. I love you and I want you. Not just for sex. I want you to be completely and utterly mine. You're not used to looking at life realistically, Anna, seeing yourself as you really are. You've been trying to cram yourself into a standard box when you're way too exceptional to fit. So take your time if you want. Mull it over till you're ready to make a decision. You have two distinct choices. There's the flavorless, frustrating life you've led so far with occasional relief when you decide to be naughty and flash a little titty, which is quickly offset by guilt and shame. And then there's a whole new world where there is no guilt about the kinky and the erotic because those are the norms; and you need fear no shame for doing what you love, because that's what's expected of you; where you can be loved and respected and nurtured for what you really are. That's the world I offer to you, Anna. And when you're ready to join me there, tell me so. Will you do that?"

I felt her head nod beside mine. I held her and spread kisses over her face for another minute or so, then took her shoulders and held her at arms length. "I'm going to make love to you again, Anna, and stay inside you for a very long time. But first I'm afraid I need to discipline you for that disrespectful remark you made, that little burst of exasperation when you should have asked me politely to move my foot. You remember that, don't you, Anna." It wasn't a question. She nodded, looking puzzled. "Whenever you are disrespectful to me, from now on, I will correct you. The fantasies you've revealed to me express very clearly a strong inner desire to be punished. In your heart you want to be disciplined. And I insist on it. Do you understand?" She nodded again, looking downward at her feet, smiling faintly, not sure what kind of discipline and punishment I had in mind. But clearly titillated by the prospect.

Before she could ask, I sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled her over my knees and gave her three quick spanks on her perfect bottom. She cried out and struggled to get away, but I held her fast. "I'm only going to deliver seven more spanks, but if you continue to resist I will double it."

"No wait! Please! That hurts!" she squealed.

"You may, of course, refuse the discipline, Anna. In which case I will send you away and that will be the end of it. The end of us. But if you want a chance to be happy, to find the life you were meant to lead, if you want to please me and be loved by me, and turn your fantasies into exciting realities, you will say, 'Please Master, punish me. I deserve to be punished'."

She wiggled on my lap a few times while I held her firmly on my legs, then became still.

"Say it," I told her sharply. "'Please, Master, I want you to punish me.'"

I felt her body tense. Finally, her voice quavering, she whispered, "Please, Master, I want you to punish me."

"Excellent." I immediately resumed the spanking, but this time the blows were harder with four or five seconds between them to give her a chance both to recover from each burst of pain and appreciate the full intensity of it. By the seventh blow both cheeks were bright red and she was close to weeping, but she had not tried again to escape my lap. I picked her up, gently placed her face down on the bed and carefully licked those wonderfully crimson mounds until she was fully relaxed again and cooing. By now I was hard again, so I put a hand under her belly and drew her up to where I could guide myself into her easily from behind.

"I'm proud of you, little one," I murmured as her body began to move, synchronizing with my thrusts.

A long time later, after she had come five more times to my once, and as we were letting the cool air dry our soaked bodies, she whispered, "I've made up my mind. I do love you. I want to be yours."

"You understand, little one, there'll be more spankings when you're bad," I whispered back.

"I'm looking forward to it."

"And there will be harsher discipline as well."

"Will you hurt me?"

"Punishments always hurt. That's the point. But I will never, ever harm you. I absolutely promise you that. If you are to be mine, you must trust me on that point. I will not allow you to suffer any serious injury. I will be your Master, Anna, your protector and lover as well as your disciplinarian. Do you trust me not to cause you harm, Anna?"

"Yes. I trust you. But will they hurt a lot? The other punishments, I mean? Worse than the spanking?"

"Some will hurt more, some less. It's for your pleasure as well as your correction, little one. Remember your dreams? You like it rough. The possibility of pain excites you. Isn't that true? The fear, the anticipation of pain makes your female places tingle."

"Yes," she breathed.

"And after it's over, the sex is amazing."

"Yes."

"But there's more than that. Much more. If you truly become mine, little one, your life will be totally changed. Where before you were adrift, unsure of your direction in life, you will become completely focused. You will have one laser-clear purpose, one uncomplicated function, one simple reason for existence."

"Which is?"

"To serve your Master. To make him love you more every day, if that's possible."

"Sounds like the perfect plan to me, Master," she giggled, snuggling closer.

Sweet Anna. She thought that because a dozen or so boys had tasted her fruit, she was sexually experienced, worldly wise. But in terms of the world I was leading her into, she was a virgin.

Chapter 2

With such tender young flesh ripe and ready for harvesting, a smart Master proceeds carefully. Takes his time. I was determined to own this girl before the year was out, possess her far more thoroughly than she yet imagined. As it happened, she was ready long before the year was out, partly because I was patient, but mostly because she was born to be a slave. Submission was in her nature and it was just a matter of introducing her to the lifestyle and coaxing her along until she realized she could never be happy, never be truly free until she gave up her futile efforts to manage her own life and surrendered it to the strong and loving Master to whom she had already professed her love.

Her education began by putting her at the safe distance of an observer. I purchased a number of videos from various bdsm computer sites and we watched them nightly, starting with the milder bondage scenes of young women trussed up and hogtied in many imaginative and painful predicaments, and progressing to the more savage versions where the girls are forced to endure extreme erotic torture and sexual incursions. Not "forced," actually, because every one of the young women used on these photo shoots is a volunteer, someone who enjoys the experience, often traveling long distances for the thrill of submitting to humiliation and pain on camera to an international audience. (And, of course, for the money.) Many of them were college students like Anna, so she readily related to them. We also watched some of the live bdsm feeds where each girl is tormented in real time over the course of several hours while members of the site contribute suggestions via an internet chat hookup for increasing her suffering. Anna loved it all. I kept my hand on her sex as we watched and the more brutal the torture the wetter she became.

During this period (about two months) I also had lots of help from my many friends in the lifestyle. I was a member of the local bdsm organization, the Iron Collar Club, and conspired with several couples to help accelerate Anna's acceptance that she belonged in the life. The Masters, of course, were more than happy to help me draw my beautiful new lover into consensual slavery, clearly anticipating the favors I would surely grant them once I owned her. Their slaves, already happily practicing the lifestyle, were delighted to help indoctrinate a new sister, aware that they, too, would likely be partaking of her charms as well.

Two couples in particular were especially useful: Tom Atkins and kristina, and Peter Arnson with pixie whose hair was a different weird color every time we saw them. Both were in full-time Master/slave relationships and were fun to be with. Anna, who had never imagined such relationships before meeting me, was fascinated by the dynamics of it and eager to learn more.

We took her first to public places, for drinking and dancing, taking pains to blend in with the clueless vanilla crowds. Anna was familiar with such places and with the inhibited, hypocritical sexuality that permeates regular society. When she was relaxed and ready to play, we would move on to my house or the other couple's. It was only there, in private, that we stripped away the nonsense and became our real selves. Usually the ladies would immediately be ordered to strip and serve us beer or cocktails. They would then be required to kneel before us while the other Master and I discussed with them the various games we might play that evening.

Anna warmed so readily to these dates and these games that soon she wanted to dispense with the bar scene altogether and go straight to the bdsm scene. Before two weeks were out I was taking her to "munches" at the Iron Collar Club. These were evening social gatherings featuring talks by visiting Masters and slaves on the various aspects of Bondage, Discipline, Sadism and Masochism. She loved these munches and the joyful, uninhibited members of the club. When she found out about the club's special events, the ones involving actual bdsm activity, she begged me to take her. I agreed, but since the next scheduled event was ten days away, I decided to use the interim to prepare her a little better psychologically before exposing her to the living three-dimensional extent of the life to which she would soon commit herself.

Accordingly, five days later she received her first taste of "public" humiliation and punishment at my house during a double date with Tom and his slave kristina. They were a lovely couple, his body solid and hardened by the construction trades, hers shapely and athletic from the strict diet and exercise regimen he imposed on her. She had long, dark, luminous hair and hauntingly sensuous gray eyes. Every time I saw her I longed to fuck her, and Tom had graciously loaned her to me on previous occasions. But that delight was not on the agenda for this night.

After the two women had stripped, Tom and I ordered them into the kitchen to fix drinks while we discussed in private the special plans for the evening's entertainment. The activities began with some simple bondage. We ordered kristina to tie Anna to a chair, perched at the edge of the seat facing us with her legs splayed wide. Knowing that kristina enjoyed women as much as men, I had decided it was time to explore Anna's sexual boundaries as well. With Tom's permission I instructed kristina to crawl between Anna's thighs and service her.

Anna's face immediately registered distress. "No!" she called out without thinking.

I leaned toward her. "Did I hear you say 'No'?"

She swallowed and chewed her lip. She knew by this time that a "bottom" refusing a command from her "Top," even for an evening's play, was cause for a sound spanking. She tried some damage control. "I've never done it with a woman. I don't think I can." Her eyes pleaded with me.

"Of course you can. In fact, that's all the better. This will be a new experience for you. But that's beside the point. The real point is that I have ordered it to be done and it will please me to watch. You have no vote on the matter. You will therefore relax and enjoy the pleasures kristina is about to bestow upon you so that you can contrast it with the punishment that will follow immediately after for your outburst."

She obviously wanted to say more, but clamped her mouth shut grimly.

kristina, sensitive to the need to immerse Anna slowly into this new concept, began her ministrations by kissing and licking her way along the insides of Anna's thighs. The combination of these sensations, plus the twin anticipations of adventure into forbidden acts and the promised punishment to follow, excited Anna into embarrassing herself by coming before kristina had reached her labia. I watched the milky essence flow down her furrow and drip on the hardwood floor.

"Don't disturb that little puddle," I said to kristina. "Anna will clean it up later."

kristina was an artist with her tongue and by the time Tom and I decided to end the show Anna had added to the tiny puddle on the floor three more times, her serene expression announcing that she had successfully jettisoned another useless inhibition. Nevertheless, she was still due an appropriate punishment for that errant "no." I had kristina untie her and ordered Anna on her hands and knees in front of the chair she had just vacated.

"Now, Anna, you will clean up the mess you made on the floor."

She looked up at me, puzzled.

"With your tongue."

She opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off. "You are about to be punished for your earlier insolence. How severe that punishment will be depends on how quickly you accomplish this task. Lick it up!"

She bit her lip, looked at the crusted little puddle and bent down to it. She hesitated a long moment with her eyes closed, then flicked her tongue across it. She popped up, screwing up her face to tell the world her mouth contained something vile. There was still a slimy residue on the floor.

"That's a start, Anna," I said evenly. "Now clean it all up. This time you will do it without making faces or spitting. The least dissatisfaction with your performance will earn you ten additional hard strokes to the ten you have already accumulated."

That thought visibly shook her. She lowered her face to the remains of her cum and cleaned it up with five slow slurps of her tongue, swallowing twice; after which she remained perfectly still, staring at the floor, her face grimly devoid of objection.

"Excellent, Anna." I reached over and stroked her head. "That was lovely. For that I will allow your punishment to remain at a mere ten hard strokes of the belt."

Her head popped up, her eyes filled with fear. I had used the leather belt only once before and five medium strokes had brought her to tears.

"Don't worry," I said, still stoking her head and shoulders. "You can manage it. I want you to climb up on the coffee table in front of the sofa and remain there on your hands and knees so Tom and kristina can enjoy your punishment."

"You're going to do it in front of them ?" Obviously this had never occurred to her.

"Absolutely. Afterwards, maybe Tom will punish kristina for our amusement." I looked pointedly at Tom.

"Certainly," he said. "And whatever you do to Anna, I will do double to kristina."

"But what has she done wrong?" wailed Anna.

"Nothing," he said. "I will punish her because your Master asked it of me as a favor and it will please me to comply. I will double the punishment you are about to receive because it amuses me to do so. In fact, kristina will beg me to do it. You'll see."

"You will be silent now, Anna," I told her. "Climb on the table!"

Obediently, if somewhat bewildered, she positioned herself on the table and waited for her punishment. I took my time removing the belt from my pants, making sure she was watching as I doubled it over and set myself at the proper angle. I placed my left hand on the small of her back where I would be able to feel her muscles responding to the blows she was about to absorb. The whacks of a doubled belt are noisy, which adds to the drama. My first blow was relatively light but the noise and the shock of it elicited a satisfactory whimper from Anna. The next blow was a little harder and this time she jumped a little. The third blow, however, was serious. She cried out loudly and struggled with herself to remain kneeling on the table, her rump still blatantly exposed to the dreaded belt. I varied the severity of the remaining blows between hard and very hard. By the tenth blow she was gagging on her tears and her pert fanny was bright red, but she managed to quell her sobs and produce a tremulous smile, even when I demanded she recite the ritual "Thank you, Sir," and kiss the instrument that had punished her. It was evident in her eyes that the experience had produced an erotic charge, all the more intense for having been on display in front of her friends.

I ordered her to sit with me on the couch and held her hand as kristina took her place on the coffee table. At a nod from Tom, kristina said, "Please, Sir, if it pleases you, punish me with your belt."

"How many blows do you deserve, slave?" he asked.

"I deserve as many as you're willing to inflict, Sir, but at least twenty. And very hard ones, Sir."

"It pleases me to grant your request," he said, and promptly began belting her savagely until her ass glowed as brightly as Anna's. She rocked and screamed with every blow, tears flowing down her face and pooling on the table between her hands. Anna held her breath and gripped my hand tightly as the count approached twenty, transfixed by the spectacle and kristina's willingness to endure it.

When it was over, Tom presented the belt to Kristina's lips and she kissed it, blubbering through her tears, "Thank you, Sir, for the punishment."

"Down on the floor, doggie," he said, "and prepare to be fucked."

She climbed down and returned to her hands and knees as Tom undressed. With Anna and I watching only a few feet away, he took her from behind and slammed away at her, paying no heed to the inflamed condition of her backside. kristina moaned, whether from pain or pleasure I couldn't tell, until Tom suddenly withdrew and ejaculated all over her back. I considered requiring Anna to go over and lick it off, but decided she had been stressed enough for one evening. Instead, I undressed and made love to her on the sofa as Tom and his slave sat on the floor and watched.

Anna's tolerance for pain and humiliation developed quickly, as I had expected. Soon it became a craving, and her fascination with the idea of slavery was palpable. She was a quivering mass of nervous anticipation by the time the event at the Iron Collar Club finally rolled around.

I had dressed her up for the affair in a kind of traditional fetish attire so that she would feel part of the crowd. This consisted of a brief, low-cut, black vinyl dress adorned with silver chains and a matching black dog collar. I placed black leather cuffs on her wrists and ankles and locked them in place with small brass padlocks. These restraints would one day be put to practical use, although I had no intention of doing so on this night. High heels were obligatory with that outfit, but later that night I made her take them off because she has pretty feet and she's much sexier when she's barefoot.

I made careful arrangements for all the couples we had played with on our dates to be there among the throng. Tom had even set up a display, one of a dozen or so in the Exhibition Area. It featured kristina standing on her toes inside a cage constructed of steel bars, her wrists handcuffed behind her and her neck clamped into the center hole of a wooden stock that was locked shut with a heavy padlock. It was suspended from the ceiling with chains and pulled up hard against her chin so that when her over-stressed calves periodically gave out, she would find herself hanging painfully by her head . She began whining well before the displays were dismantled, but could not ask for relief because of the red ball-gag strapped tightly in her mouth. She was dressed in a semi-transparent chemise that clung provocatively to her squirming body.

Most of the other exhibits were female submissives hogtied in various colorful and uncomfortable ways, some suffering from the sting of weighted clamps hanging from their nipples or labia. One young raven-haired beauty had her knees and ankles bound tightly to a vertical pole with her arms pulled over her head by ropes attached to a ceiling ring several feet behind her, forcing her to bend over backwards from the knees, a position made painful by nipple clamps chained to the pole which tugged viciously if she allowed herself to fall back too far. In a variation on that theme, another woman had her breasts pulled together around a similar pole by a two-inch chain clamped to her nipples; her ordeal was heightened by having one ankle tied to the pole and the other to her wrists so that she was forced to stand on one foot slightly off balance, her tortured nipples keeping her from falling over. Further along a blond girl identified as "slave sweetpee" was fitted with a copper dildo and butt plug pressed deep into her vagina and anus by one of the ropes from which she was suspended at eye level. The two devices delivered a shock when passing spectators pressed a button, causing slave sweetpee to thrash wildly in her restraints and make muffled screams through her gag.

Anna was mesmerized by it all and by the fun and games in the Play Room and Dungeon where more active and demanding scenes were played out, and by the many naked couples we glimpsed through "voyeur" windows as they romped and fucked on huge group beds in the theme rooms. She giggled gleefully when I ordered her to strip and we joined a dozen couples in the crowded communal hot tub. Tom was there with kristina who had fully recovered from her earlier ordeal as an exhibit. Anna was by now horny to the extreme and impaled herself on me at once, doing a wild, watery, splashing pole dance on me with much cheering and laughter from our tub mates. She sent us both quickly into noisy climax. Nowadays I would never permit her to do such a thing without my permission, but at that moment I knew she was on sensory overload from the exhilaration of the evening and let her enjoy herself in this giddy new world of sensual freedom, consensual pain and sex without shame.

On the other hand, I felt it was time to test her willingness to cross yet another sexual-psychological border. When a man sitting across from us — a vice president of my bank, as a matter of fact, and owner of the voluptuous slave sweetpee (who he had exhibited earlier and was now sitting next to him) — commented on Anna's beauty and carnal expertise, I invited him to amuse himself with her. Anna appeared rather taken aback, but I looked her calmly in the eye and said, "You will go over to him now and let him do with you whatever he wishes. It pleases me to watch, and I will make sure you're safe." Her mouth fell open and she stared back at me. Obviously never in her previous life had a "boy friend" been willing to share her body with other men. No doubt she wondered if this meant I didn't really love her. But when I smiled and nodded her toward the waiting Master across the tub, her confusion gave way to her own natural deviltry. By now she was well aware of what was expected of a submissive; all evening she had been surrounded by living examples of it. If she wanted to be mastered, this was the time to show it. Her expression changed to I'll show you! (an insolence which I ignored for the time being) and she waded across the tub to join her new admirer.

"Forgive her rudeness," I told him. "She hasn't been trained yet."

She threw an aggrieved look back at me, as though I had insulted her, but was soon fully occupied by the highly aroused bank executive who grabbed her by the waist, lifted her over his lap and lowered her on to his own turgid staff. She slid up and down on him vigorously making waves in the tub as he suckled chlorinated droplets off her nipples. She came with a high-pitched moan about half a minute before he did. sweetpee kept her eyes averted the whole time, apparently grappling with issues about sexual sharing that her Master would have to correct later.

The evening made a deep impression on Anna. As she lay in my arms at home the next morning she couldn't stop talking about it. She marveled at how quickly kristina and the other "exhibits" had recovered from their ordeals and joined in the spirit and fun of the party. She noted also how contentedly they followed their Doms and Masters from room to room, cheerfully responding to their slightest demands without ever seeking a word of appreciation. (She had not noticed slave sweetpee's misbehavior in the hot tub.) She observed the pride their Masters displayed when other Masters made complimentary remarks about their well-trained and attractive slaves.

"Will you be proud of me like that when I learn to be a good slave?" she sighed.

"A well-trained and obedient slave, especially a beautiful one, is always a thing of pride to her owner," I responded.

"That's what I want!" she announced firmly. "I want to be your slave. I want to serve you and make you happy and proud of me. Will you make me one of those exhibits some day?"

"Of course. That and a lot more, if and when you decide to offer yourself as my slave," I told her.

"But I just told you! That's what I want. I'm offering! I've never been so sure of anything in my life. I floated through high school without the faintest clue of a goal. My only ambition was to get laid by the coolest boys. I went out with the toughest, meanest guys, hoping, I guess, that they would slap me around, show me who was boss. I would get off just imagining it. But it only happened once. All the others had the impression I was wholesome and sweet and treated me with maddening tenderness. Actually I was just shy and couldn't tell anyone what I really wanted. Then in college, same thing. Oh the parties were wilder and there was plenty of sex, but everyone was always stoned and it was just the slam-bam thing. I had no goal there, either. I've been going to college because my folks insist on it and are paying for it. So why not? But until I found you and learned about this other lifestyle, I felt empty. Just moving for the sake of movement. This is the first time I feel like I belong somewhere! It feels right."

"This one boy in high school who didn't treat you tenderly. How did that play out?"

"We were walking in a field sharing some weed and I guess I said something that offended him, I don't remember what. He hauled off and slapped me across the face so hard it knocked me down. I guess he expected I would cry, or get angry, or try to get away. But instead I just sat there on the ground and looked up at him. I guess he could read in my face what I was thinking because he grabbed my by the throat, lifted me to my feet and slapped me again. When I still didn't say or do anything, he pushed me back down on the grass, yanked off my jeans and panties and, uh, had his way with me. God, it was wonderful!"

"In other words, he punished you and raped you."

"Yeah, I guess. But not really. It was exactly what I wanted him to do."

"Did you go out with him again?"

"No such luck. He was busted for breaking into a house a few days later and I never saw him again. Sent to a juvenile facility, I heard."

"I appreciate your need to be dominated and plan to do something about it, but in that case I think you were, in fact, very lucky. Hooking up with an irresponsible bully who likes to beat up women is a sure-fire recipe for disaster."

"But you beat me, and I like it."

"No, I do not beat you. I punish you. And only when you consent to it. I will never strike you in anger. Never. I will always tell you when you have crossed a line and must be punished and will set a time and place to do it. You need and want to be corrected and you have always given me your permission to do so. If ever you do not give your consent, you will not be punished. But unless there is a very good reason for refusing, like illness, that will be the end of our relationship."

Her eyes betrayed a flicker of fear. "I won't do that. I promise. I want you to punish me when I displease you. I want to be your slave."

"If you are my slave, Anna, I might well decide to punish you just for the erotic pleasure of it. I would still demand your consent."

"And I would give it."

" Would give it?"

" Will give it. Right now, if you want. I am yours to do with as you wish." She was trying very hard to convince me of her submission and hide any misgivings that might be lurking behind her excitement.

"So you really want to be my slave."

"Oh yes!" She spun over to face me and grasped my hands as if I might run away. "Will you do it? Will you accept me as your slave? Please? I'll do whatever it takes to deserve it. I'll obey you, serve you, love you, worship you! I'll endure anything you want me to that makes you happy, any punishment and pain."

"Anna, you'll do all of those things and much more if I accept you as my slave. But most girls think of permanent love relationships in terms of marriage. Marriage is an equal partnership. If that's your ultimate goal, I'm afraid you're deluding yourself. Slavery and marriage are two entirely different things. I have no intention of marrying you."

She looked slightly crestfallen, but recovered nicely. "No, no. I want you as my Master, not my husband. I don't want to share equally in our relationship. I want to be yours to command."

I went on as if I had not heard her. "In a marriage, once the thrill of new sex is gone each partner begins to notice and be irritated by the many imperfections of the other, the everyday irritants that set your teeth on edge. In a Master/slave relationship this doesn't happen because the slave has no right to expect any particular behavior of her Master. The Master, on the other hand, has the right to expect the slave to conform precisely to whatever pattern of behavior and appearance suits his fancy. The slave has committed herself to be the instrument of his pleasure, period. The slave has deliberately given up any and all authority in the union and is free to be used in any way the Master pleases. He may decide to consider her desires or he may not. Her desires have no weight unless her Master gives them weight. That is the foundation of their relationship, and in agreeing to it, the slave is free to concentrate all her energy and thoughts on serving and pleasing her Master. If you are to become a slave, Anna, you will have to be properly trained because absolute obedience and service does not come naturally. There is a great deal more to slavery than taking orders. Handing over ownership of your body and mind to me will totally and profoundly change your life forever. If I accept you as my slave, it will not be for a year or two. It will be for life."

"Yes, I understand." She was nearly crying in her earnestness. "That's what I'm asking for. I'll undergo whatever training you require. I'll do everything and anything you want. Bear any pain. I trust you and I love you and I want to serve you."

"You want to serve me?" I let her stew for several anxious moments before continuing. "All right, then let's start right now. Just a test to give you a better idea of what you can expect for the rest of your life. Get up off the bed and dress me."

I pushed her away, got up and waited for her to find appropriate clothing for me. She reached automatically for her robe.

"No!" My sharp tone stopped her hand in mid-air. "You will remain completely naked until I give you permission to put on clothes."

Without a word she turned to my bureau and closet and began laying out on the bed a complete set of casual apparel, pausing only when I objected to a particular choice and replacing it with whatever substitute I named. She then proceeded to dress me with a kind of giddy efficiency, unable to contain her joy. At my order she followed me into the living room. I sat down in my favorite chair, an imposing leather recliner which was to become my symbolic throne for all such audiences.

"Kneel on the floor facing me," I told her. "Keep your back straight with your hands at your side. Don't close your fists and don't speak without asking permission." I brandished a riding crop I had taken from a bureau drawer on the way out of the bedroom, one I had placed there anticipating this moment. "Pay close attention to every instruction I give you because I will punish every failure immediately. You will answer, 'Yes, Master.'"

"Yes, Master."

"If I accept you as a slave, you will function under my authority and whim. You will do it to fulfill your own needs and desires. You will have one purpose in life and one only: that is to please me. Everything you do, everything you think, everything you say will be to assure my happiness and contentment. If I find you acceptable, you will eventually sign a contract granting me ownership of your body, mind and worldly possessions. Those things will no longer belong to you. You will be my property. You will have no rights at all, only privileges granted by me, your Master. Is all of that understood?"

"Yes, Master."

"From now on I will address you in this house and anywhere else I choose, as anna or slave anna. When writing it, you will always employ a lower case 's' and 'a' to denote your subordinate position as a slave with no rights, existing only to service her Master. You will address me as 'Sir' or 'Master' in this house, or in the company of our bdsm friends, or anywhere else I require it. But the nature of our relationship must be kept a secret from the vanilla world, so in public I will call you anna and you will refer to me by my first name, Daniel. Never as Dan or Danny or any other nickname or endearment under any circumstances. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir."

"But that's only when vanilla people are present. At all other times you will invariably use a formal title: Sir, Master or Master Daniel. I will be very strict about that."

"Yes, Master Daniel, I understand."

"Very well. As of this moment, slave anna, I am accepting you as a trainee to become my personal slave. If and when I feel you are ready, we will discuss the terms for a permanent contract in which you will convey ownership of your body, mind and worldly possessions to me. You can still back out of this, slave anna, now or at any time during your training. But once you sign that contract, if you do, there will be no turning back. Think about that during this testing period. The testing will not be easy because the change to your life will be radical. You must have a realistic sampling of life as a slave. Specifically, as my slave. Once more: do you wish to change your mind?"

"No, Sir. I want you to test me so that I can prove worthy of you. I've never been so sure about anything in my whole life, or as happy as I am at this moment. Thank you, Master Daniel, for accepting me for training. I promise to do everything in my power to make you proud of me."

And that's how it began.

Chapter 3

"Very well," I said. "We will begin your training by teaching you the four basic positions which you will assume upon command. The one you are in now, kneeling with your back straight and your hands hanging loose at your sides. It's called 'Kneel Up.' Whenever I command you to kneel up, you will instantly stop what you are doing and drop to your knees in that posture. Now I want you to sit back on your heels and spread your knees apart as wide as you can."

She did so, a trace of a smile betraying her awareness that her sex was inordinately exposed.

"Now rest your hands on your thighs, palms up. Keep them open and relaxed. This is the 'Kneel Down' position. You will remain there memorizing that position so that you can drop into it immediately on demand."

I stood up and walked slowly around her, slapping the riding crop on my palm to rachet up her nerves a little. Actually, it seemed to be making her more excited. She was watching me carefully.

"One other refinement, slave anna, and this applies to all positions. Unless ordered otherwise, you will keep your gaze down on the floor as a sign of your submissiveness and respect."

She complied but when I did not move or say anything for two minutes, she glanced up quizzically. Time to correct her.

"Did I give you permission to look up, slave anna?"

Her eyes snapped back down. "No, Master. I'm sorry. I thought maybe I had . . ."

"I asked you a Yes or No question. Did I give you permission to ramble on with excuses?"

"No, Sir. I'm sorry."

"I'm going to punish you for that indiscretion, slave anna. I want you to ask politely to be punished."

She swallowed, trying not to peek at the crop. "Please punish me, Master."

I swatted her sharply twice on each breast. She blinked and yelped with each blow but succeeded in keeping her eyes glued to the floor, depriving me of further correction.

"Now thank me for the correction, slave anna, and kiss the instrument that delivered it." I presented the business end of the crop to her lips. She thanked me for the punishment and kissed the mean little leather loop at the end of the whip. She was learning. "I told you I would never strike you out of anger but always announce your punishments in advance. Well, I am now warning you in advance that because this is a training session and a test, I will carry this whip with me and correct you with it immediately for any slip-ups on your part. It behooves you, therefore, to pay close attention to every detail of your conduct. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"But is it what you wish? I expect a more enthusiastic and respectful response."

"Yes, Master Daniel, it is what I wish. Please be so kind . . ."

"No! It is not your place to ask favors of me. The purpose of your life, now, is to please me. Find a more respectful way to put it." I tapped the end of the crop on her left nipple.

She trembled slightly as she struggled to second guess me for the proper way to frame her words. Then it came to her. "If it pleases you, Master, please punish me immediately when I make a mistake, so I may learn more swiftly."

"Excellent." I stroked her cheek gently with the end of the crop. "Now rise to your feet. I'm going to teach you two more positions. Stand at attention."

She rose and assumed the standard stiff-backed military stance, legs together, eyes front.

"Almost. I want you to make three adjustments. First, when you take this or any of the standard slave positions, you will keep your eyes cast down unless ordered otherwise." She did so at once. "Second, as in the Kneel Up position, you will not make a fist as you are doing now. You will open your hands and let your fingers relax into a natural curl." She dutifully made her hands relax. "Third, you will from now on keep your lips apart. This applies to your entire waking life, whether in a position or not, whether in public or private, whether alone or in the presence of others. At no time will you allow your lips to seal shut. They must remain constantly parted as a symbol that your mouth is available for any use to which your Master chooses to put it. This symbol is not just for others who know its meaning. It is primarily for you , a constant reminder that every opening in your body belongs to your Master and is a vessel for his pleasure, including your mouth."

After a moment's hesitation, she licked her lips and left them slightly parted. I knew that soon I would have the chance to whip her for breaking that rule. And the chance would be repeated often. Closing the mouth is a very hard habit to break, but in time, with enough painful reminders, she would do it.

"One last position, slave anna. Parade rest. Did you ever play in a band?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then you know the position. Take it."

She moved her left foot out about eighteen inches and clasped her right wrist with her left hand behind her back. "Is this correct, Sir?"

I gave her a hard blow on the ass with the crop and she cried out, her eyes wide with confusion and pain. "I did not give you permission to ask a question. Do it right!"

Stuttering in her rush to obey, she nearly yelled, "May I ask a question, Master?"

"Yes." I kept my response calm and simple.

"Is this how I'm supposed to do it, Master? I really want to please you!"

"That is exactly how you are to do it, slave anna. But be careful to keep your eyes down and your lips parted. I'll be happy to add another stripe to your backside."

"Yes, Sir. I'm trying."

Technically she had spoken without permission, but I let it slide. "Now I'm going to put you through your paces to make sure you can execute these four positions quickly and gracefully, remembering all the fine points. I'll watch carefully and each error will earn you three hard strokes." I waited a beat. "Well?"

She looked panicked for a moment, then remembered. "Thank you, Master. Please punish . . . if it pleases you , please punish me immediately for any mistakes."

"Stand at attention!" I barked, and she did. "Kneel up!" She dropped to her knees with her back straight. "Stand at ease!" "Kneel down!" I continued to issue these orders, mixing them up, faster and faster, watching her eyes and lips and hands. Only once did she fail when I slapped the crop noisily into my palm and she glanced over in terror. The next three strokes went straight to her ass leaving three bright welts. Her face scrunched in pain, but she never missed a beat. Finally, seeing her legs beginning to tremble from the repetitive standing and kneeling, I left her in the kneel down position and leaned against the door jamb. "You did quite well, slave anna. I don't think you'll forget the proper way to take a position, and if you do, I have meaner whips than this at my disposal. One more general rule. In this house you will always remain nude unless I tell you otherwise. Furthermore, anything you do wear from now on must be approved by me. Now I want you to go into the kitchen and prepare breakfast for me. I will wait here and you will announce when it is ready. Don't serve it, just tell me when it's ready." I told her what to prepare and how I wanted my eggs. "Now, go!"

"Yes, Master. Thank you." She was learning fast.

But she hadn't even begun to suffer.

Cooking breakfast was apparently something she could do well because she burst into the room about fifteen minutes later and chirped, "Breakfast is ready to be served, Master Daniel!"

For several seconds I pretended to ignore her, then I slowly put down the newspaper I had been reading and stared at her with obvious displeasure. Her smile disintegrated.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"First, never enter a room where the Master is present without knocking and asking admission. I'll let that slide because I had not yet instructed you on that point. Second, and this will require punishment, you raised your eyes and spoke without asking permission. You were already given clear instructions not to do that. Is that not true, slave anna?"

The poor girl looked both crushed and disappointed. I gathered she had put together a splendid breakfast to make a good impression on me. My nitpicking was spoiling things for her. I decided to refocus her attention on the gravity of her transgressions.

"I will accept a single slip once with a mild correction. But when you make the same mistake repeatedly, I am forced to adopt harsher penalties. In this case, you will go over to that ottoman," I pointed to a piece of furniture I had purchased specifically for this purpose, "and drape yourself over it with your ass raised up and ready for the whip."

Her voice was barely audible. "Yes, Master. Thank you, Master." Her lips quivered. Obviously she wanted to say more but couldn't decide how to phrase it. So she simply laid across the ottoman, her belly on its leather upholstery, her naked bottom prominently upraised with its fading stripes. This time I whaled into her with no mercy. Again and again the crop whistled down and bit into her tender flesh. She screamed and cried and rocked but made no effort to roll off the ottoman and escape the punishment. Sensing she was about to faint, I stopped at the twelfth blow. She collapsed limply on the ottoman, sobbing, her face in her hands. I walked around and put the leather wrapped whip in front of her mouth. She kissed it and burbled something through her sobs that I took to be "Thank you, Master."

I gave her a few minutes to collect herself, then told her to follow me into the kitchen and show me what she had done. She was no longer a proud slut but a contrite slave and merely gestured at the perfectly fried bacon and the eggs over easy, not as perfect as they would have been without the delay for punishment. Offsetting the whipping with praise, I told her she had done a fine job and ordered her to set a place for me at the table and bring it in. I noticed that she had made a portion for herself as well, so I added, "Just one setting. For your Master. You will eat when I have finished. You will kneel down by my side as I eat and wait for further instructions."

She brought in a nicely presented plate and a cup of coffee, as I had ordered, and obediently knelt and waited in the proper position for me to finish breakfast. I took my time, enjoying her fine cooking, watching her restive movements at the corner of my vision. She gave me no further reason to punish her.

When I had finished, I said, "Now clear away my dishes and bring in your own breakfast. But dump it into a bowl with no tableware."

She jumped up and did as she was told, returning with a bowl neatly arranged with bacon, eggs and toast. She had apparently decided not to dump her coffee into the mix.

"Place it on the floor here beside me," I said. She did so, frowning slightly. Not happy. Her breakfast was already cold. What now? "Get down on your hands and knees and eat your breakfast from the bowl," I ordered.

"May I speak, Sir?"

I had expected she would ask. "Yes, you may."

"May I get my fork, Sir?"

"No. You will eat it directly out of the bowl with your mouth. Today I will purchase a doggie bowl for you and from now on you will take all your meals from that bowl. You will remain on hands and knees as you eat and NOT use your hands with the food. Do I hear any objections, slave anna?"

She closed her eyes. "No, Master. Thank you for allowing me to eat like a dog."

No doubt she intended the sarcasm, but I ignored it. That was exactly how she would eat from now on. It was to impress on her that she was now as much a piece of property as a pet dog, and no more exalted. And also because it amused me.

It amused her, too, at first. She giggled at her own clumsy attempts to pull the strips of bacon into her mouth with her tongue and lips. The eggs, of course, were a disaster, the yolks tearing open on her teeth and running down her chin, dripping into the bowl. She had always been fastidious about her table manners and appearance, so it was inevitable that she find her besmeared face intolerable.

"Master, may I speak, please?"

"You may."

"Could I please get a napkin. My face is a mess."

"No you may not."

"But it's dripping. I'll get it on the floor."

"You'd better not. If you do, you will clean it up with your tongue."

She looked incredulous. "Off the floor?"

"Or be whipped until you do."

"That's gross."

"Would you prefer to eat your meals directly off the floor from now on?" I glared at her, letting her know that I was fully capable of ordering such a thing.

She looked away at a distant part of the floor. "No, Sir."

"If you truly want to be a slave, anna, you will have to give up your former notions of what's acceptable and what is not. Your Master will make those decisions from now on. I will never allow you to suffer serious harm, but you will suffer whatever unpleasantness I deem proper for your training or entertainment for me. Or have you already lost heart? Have you already decided you don't have what it takes to be a worthy slave?"

"No, Master. I want to be your slave. Forgive me for. . . for questioning your order. I'll try to remember my place from now on."

"I know you will, slave anna. But I will punish you this evening for that outburst. It will help you to remember your place. You will now clean up your bowl."

"Thank you, Master." She gazed grimly down into the messy contents, and with an obvious effort at self control snuffled and lapped at it until the bowl was much cleaner than her face. When she had finished, I ordered her to kneel in the down position, facing me. I tapped the insides of her knees with my crop as a reminder to open her legs wider. Toast crumbs were cemented to her cheeks, nose and chin in a smear of dried egg.

"From now on, you will set my place and serve me breakfast and all other meals before being granted permission to eat your own. I will give you the meal menus each day for you to prepare. You will be allowed to eat the leftovers from your bowl on the floor. Except for breakfast. For breakfast you will always have plain oatmeal with skimmed milk."

She made a small grimace, but said nothing.

"Do you realize your lips are closed?" She parted them hurriedly. Too late. "I will add that to the list of offenses for which you will be punished this evening." I stared at her and tapped my foot until she remembered her manners.

"Thank you, Master Daniel."

"You will stand now and clean up the dishes and your face while I prepare for work. You have five minutes to do that, at which time I expect you to be standing at attention by the front door waiting to be given your workday instructions as I leave."

She looked relieved to be getting away from continued proximity to the whip. She was not so happy when I gave her the instructions five minutes later.

"From now on, slave anna, you will not leave this house without my specific approval or order. That means you are not permitted even out on the grounds. For safety reasons I will not lock you in, but there are hidden security cameras and I will know if you disobey me on this point. You are to remain naked throughout the day. Nudity is to be your normal condition from now on. You may keep a robe on the rack by the door to put on temporarily in case you need to answer the doorbell, but under no other circumstances are you to put on any article of clothing without my specific order. Your work duty for today is to clean and vacuum every room of the house except the locked room down cellar. You will be introduced to that room tonight. I will be home sometime between five and six o'clock. I will arrive without warning and expect you to be waiting for me in kneel-up position in the front hallway. You will find cuffs and padlocks for your wrists and ankles laid out on my bureau, along with a dog collar and a single tail whip. You will have put on the collar and cuffs and be holding a martini in one hand and the whip in the other to offer me as I come in. If you fail in any of this, the punishment will be extremely unpleasant. Am I thoroughly understood?"

"Yes, Sir," she said meekly, remembering to keep her eyes downcast and her lips parted.

"Look up at me now."

Her brilliantly blue eyes met mine and she smiled. I kissed her, letting my tongue slip into her mouth to meet hers. There was an instant stirring in my loins, so I broke off the kiss lest the moment get out of hand. She didn't know it, but this was to be the easiest day of her life in slavery. Already I could hardly wait to get back and start her on a road to pain and pleasure, to suffering and ecstacy beyond anything she had ever imagined.

Chapter 4

I threw the door open suddenly, half hoping she would be late or have forgotten part of her instructions. Frankly, I was itching for reasons to add to her punishment. But there she was, a lovely, nude vision of submissiveness, kneeling alertly up, holding a martini glass in one hand and my single-tail whip in the other. The black leather cuffs adorned her wrists and ankles, secured with little brass padlocks. The black dog collar circled her pretty neck, waiting to be leashed.

"Good evening, Master Daniel. It's nice to have you home."

I ignored her flawed greeting — she had yet to be trained for that — and inspected her thoroughly before accepting the martini. Eyes down, lips parted, freshly washed and made up. She had really made the effort. I praised her and her face lit up with happiness. But it wouldn't lessen the punishments she had earned for her earlier transgressions. Nor the ones she would soon be making.

I commanded her to follow me into the kitchen where I opened a bag I had brought with me and removed a heavy ceramic doggie bowl which I had purchased at a fetish shop. Instead of " DOG ," this bowl had the word slave painted on its side. I left it on the counter without comment to let its humiliating purpose sink in. anna had set up a place at the table for me and dressed it up with a candle. I went over to my chair and deliberately stood beside it. Waiting. Watching her.

She looked at me, puzzled, practically vibrating with a desire to please but clueless as to why I was standing there. She ventured a guess. Better to guess wrong than to ignore my darkening expression.

"Would you rather wine than the martini, Master?"

"No. But a good slave, anna," I remonstrated, "helps seat her Master at the table. No doubt you have been accustomed to having men perform this service for you. That will not happen any more. You are not a lady to be catered to by males. You are a slave whose function is to serve and please your Master. Right now I am not pleased."

"Forgive me, Sir," she stammered and hurried over to pull the chair out and slide it under me, a reversal of roles that had never occurred to her.

For the balance of the meal she made a tolerably good waitress. I kept her standing at attention in a corner where I could watch her, barking at her once when she began fidgeting, informing her she had just earned five strokes with a cane. That cured her fidgets. She swayed a little from the stress of holding still over long stretches but managed to avoid another misstep that would add to the caning.

When I was finished, I told her to bring in her bowl and set it on the floor beside my chair. She did so but her expression indicated she did not look forward to what was to come. I had left fragments of the roast beef and a little uneaten potato and broccoli on my plate, which I ordered her to scrape into the bowl. As with breakfast, she ate on her hands and knees, using only her mouth. As she did so, I put my hand between her thighs and drew a finger across her cleanly shaved cunt. She was wet. The fear and humiliation was making her hot. She had frozen at the touch of my finger, but I ordered her to finish her meager dinner while I continued to stroke her. Her hips twitched in response to my teasing and I found myself developing an urgent need to make use of that part of her that was slicking my fingers.

"Sit up!" I said as she licked up the last remnant of broccoli. As she rose to a kneeling position, I stood up, nudged her bowl aside with my toe and stood squarely in front of her. "Unzip me and take it out." She did so with characteristic gentleness, scrotum and all. The swollen crown was less than an inch from her face. "Lubricate it!" She worked her mouth a moment, then curled her lips around my stiffened shaft and sucked it in, bathing it in the warm pool of her saliva. Half a minute of that was all I dared allow because my lust was rising quickly and I wanted to spend some time in that sweeter valley below. I pulled out of her mouth and ordered her to stand up and bend over the arm of the captain's chair I had just vacated. The instant she was in the right position, I plunged in and worked her vigorously, noting with satisfaction her loud moans. As I reached the verge of explosion, I pulled out, moved around to the other side of the chair and forced my oozing member back into her mouth, shoving it deeply into her throat, making her gag. I came in a soaring rush, clamping her face tightly against me. She lurched uselessly in my grip, trying to breathe, trying to swallow the tide of cum that was pouring down her throat, the girth of my cock filling her mouth, making it difficult. When it was obvious she had started to vomit, I pulled out of her mouth and tucked a serving bowl from the table under her chin. She puked a handful of partly digested food creamed with semen into the leftover broccoli, then collapsed into a little heap. I stroked her head as she shook with a series of dry heaves.

"That was very good, anna. You serviced me well and didn't complain. I'm proud of you." It's always a good idea to praise a slave when she deserves it. It helps her to accept the torments of discipline and play which she both fears and desires. She looked up at me and smiled through the bitter taste of her own bile.

Her stomach was empty again and the acids left from her vomit would soon produce a raging thirst. All the better. Hunger and thirst would become part of the suffering I had planned for her this evening.

I watched as she cleaned up the dishes and washed off her face, but refused to allow her a drink of water to clear the fire out of her throat.

"Please, Master!" she whined. "Just a swallow?"

"No. You'll survive. Within a few hours thirst will be the least of your concerns."

I grabbed a clipboard from the office, attached a chain leash to anna's collar and walked around the house with her in tow examining the housekeeping she had done during the day, noting what was commendable and what was unacceptable. The list grew heavy on the latter side: dust on the floor moldings, stains in the tub and showers, spider webs in the ceiling corners, crumbs on the counter top, baked grease under the stove burners, dust on the library books. The list of inadequacies was a clear invitation to heavy penalties and anna was pale with fear by the time we finished.

"I'm so sorry, Master Daniel," she wailed. "I've never done housework before. I'll do better tomorrow, I promise!"

"I'm sure you will. Especially when you learn the price of your sloppiness." I pointed to a spot on the floor in front of my special chair. "Kneel up!" She fell to her knees and stayed at attention, her eyes down. But in her fear she forgot to keep her lips parted. I glared at her. "Don't move!" I went to the office and found a spiral bound notebook and pen which I brought back and handed to her.

"From now on you are to keep a daily log of all your offenses, including those you commit when I am not here. An extremely important part of your service, anna, is honesty, and by that I mean you must be honest with me in every way, about every aspect of your life and thoughts. Remember, if you are permitted to sign that contract, I will own not only your body, but your mind. Each evening without fail I will question you; and if you ever lie to me or fail to disclose the slightest infraction of the rules or improper thought, you will be severely punished. It will not be like play or routine punishments. You will suffer as you have never believed possible. Am I clear on that?"

"Yes, Master."

"I want you to write down all the offenses you have committed today, even the little ones for which I will waive punishment. To begin with, your outburst this morning about cleaning the carpet with your tongue as 'gross.' For that you will receive five strokes with the cane."

She wrote it down, suppressing any visible reaction.

"Next, you closed your lips this morning. And you are doing it again now. Five more strokes."

Her lips flew apart and her hand trembled a little as she wrote it down.

"You fidgeted while standing at attention during dinner. Five strokes."

Her eyes betrayed a growing apprehension as she recorded the sentence in the journal.

"That's a total of fifteen strokes with the cane. Many girls cannot remain conscious long enough to withstand that kind of pain. But don't worry; if you pass out, I will revive you and then continue the punishment." I let that sink in for a moment. Her face was white with fear. "Now, write down your other transgressions, the ones you committed while I was at work today. If you are totally honest, I may not add to your punishments. In fact, I may even offer you a way to escape some of the caning to which you have already been sentenced. So go ahead, write! And then read what you have written."

She licked her lips, no doubt partly because of nerves and partly because her mouth and throat were still burning from the residual gastric acid. She told of sneaking some cheese and Triscuits during the afternoon because she was so hungry, and of sitting

on a dining room chair to relieve an onset of back pain. She didn't think that chair counted as "furniture" because it's not upholstered. I clarified that point in a hurry, but let her off with a warning. She also admitted to having unkind thoughts about me for making her eat scraps out of a dog bowl, and several other improprieties. I was impressed with her unflinching honesty even as she trembled in fear of the possible consequences.

"You've done well, anna," I assured her, "and because you've been so forthcoming about your thoughts and misdeeds, I will pardon them all. Except, of course, those for which you have already been sentenced. Stand up and follow me!"

"Please, Sir! May I have something to drink first?"

"No. Get on your feet!"

I attached a leash to her collar and led her to the cellar door and down the stairs to the locked room I had forbidden her to enter. Obviously, without the key she could not enter anyway. The purpose of my admonition had been to call her attention to the fact that there was such a room, a subtle addition to her overall apprehensions. She'd had all day to worry about what terrible things might lie behind that door. I unlocked it and pulled her into the room beyond by her leash.

Her reaction, like that of all the females who enter that chamber, was a mix of excitement and dread. The room was large and filled with equipment that left no doubt as to its purpose. Three of the walls were brick with thick wooden beams imbedded into them in strategic places, the beams bearing iron rings, clamps sized to hold wrists and ankles, and a number of devilish instruments for which anna did not yet know the purpose. There were bins filled with metal pipes and bars, wooden poles and blocks, and the elements of disassembled devices she would come to know and fear. There were shelves laden with toys, some of which she would recognize, including dildos, butt plugs, anal beads, vibrators, canes, clamps, and candles. There was also an array of electrical devices with which she had yet to make personal acquaintance. A large pegboard was covered with an evil assortment of whips, floggers, chains, ropes, belts, clamps, handcuffs, ball gags, bit gags, masks, hoods, padlocks, hoses, quirts, crops, cuffs, leg-irons and much more. A variety of pads, plywood boards, buckets, small items of furniture, metal boxes and cages, saw-horses, pillories, stocks and yolks filled two corners. The ceiling twelve feet above us was a steel grid dripping with ropes, chains, hooks and pulleys like stalactites from hell. The concrete floor sloped gently to a drain near the back wall. The wall behind us as we entered was nearly filled with tall mirrors, visually doubling the size of the chamber while providing its helpless occupants an engaging view of their torments. Helpless occupants, to be sure, but not hapless. No submissive came into this room involuntarily. Scared witless, perhaps, but always because she had freely chosen to experience bondage, discipline and masochism. And they always came back for more.

"Wow!" anna breathed.

"I appreciate your expression of awe, slave anna, but you were not given permission to speak. Another five strokes."

She clamped her jaw shut, but was careful to keep her lips parted. "May I ask a question, Master?" she asked through her teeth.

"Yes, but make it brief."

"Will I ever be able to carry on a real conversation with you again? You know, talk about things, like we used to?"

"Of course. Once you have committed yourself to me as a slave for life, there will be times nearly every day when I will grant you the privilege of talking freely, as long as you do so respectfully. You are an intelligent woman. Intelligence is part of your beauty and I plan to make as much use of your mind for my pleasure as your body. Your brain is a vital part of your sexual being and, I assure you, I will neglect no part of your sexuality. However, until you sign that contract — assuming you prove acceptable — you are in training and will be held to a regimen of strict discipline as part of learning how to be a proper slave. It requires a concentrated effort on both our parts. You are a natural submissive, born for slavery, possessed of an innate craving to be used by a stern and loving Master. But if you are to enjoy the fulfillment of that destiny, you must learn to accept life as that Master dictates it to you. Including punishment, whether deserved or not, and no matter how severe."

As I talked I selected a rope from the wall collection and tied anna's arms securely behind her back, forearm to forearm, so that she would be unable to protect her ass from the cane. Then I pulled a kneeling bench from one of the corner piles. It was constructed like a church prayer desk with a low padded step to kneel upon, but in place of the desk was a leather-covered bench to support the belly as one laid across it. When she was positioned on it, I used two small belts to strap her knees together and then to the padded step. A third strap held her ankles together. Next I pushed her body down over the bench so that her ass was raised above her back, wound her long hair into a rope and tied it to a leather thong connected to the base of the bench, cinching it tight enough to make her whimper. She was now unable to make the slightest move without considerable discomfort. I selected a cane, a new supple one that would deliver intense pain.

"You are ready now for your punishment. You have earned a total of twenty strokes, including your most recent blunder. I will now extend to you that option I mentioned upstairs. If you wish, you may exchange half of your caning sentence for another type of punishment. Do you want to take the entire twenty strokes, or would you prefer to trade ten of them for a different punishment?"

"Please, Sir, can you tell me what the other punishment is?" She could not quite suppress the terror from her voice.

"No. You will find out when it's administered. Which shall it be? You have five seconds to decide, then the option will be gone. Five . . . four . . . three . . ."

"YES, YES!" she shouted. "I'll take it! Please! No more than ten strokes! Please!"

"Very well. You are to count each stroke aloud and thank me for it. Then you will ask politely for the next stroke. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

"Brace yourself."

As if she could. I could see her jaw muscles harden and her eyes squeeze shut, her anal sphincter tightening in anticipation. To maximize the frightful whistling of the cane through the air I took long swings, the flexing wood smacking loudly into her sensitive flesh.

The first blow made her jump and yell "Ow!" But she settled back and managed to gasp, "One! Thank you, Master."

"Now ask for the next one."

She cringed and took a few deep breaths. "Please, Master, give me another one."

From the third blow onward she screamed with every stroke, her body convulsing from the surges of pain. Angry red lines appeared on her rump and thighs like neon strips connected to a dimmer board, soon to puff into painful welts, cris-crossed by newer ones as her agony went on.

At the half dozen mark she was sobbing, but with an effort squeaked out, "Six! Thank you, Master." Then a long pause as she gathered her courage. "Please give me another, Master."

Seven!

Eight!

Her teeth were clamped so hard together I was afraid she might break one. Her responses between strokes became strained, barely intelligible. But she hung in there.

Nine!

Ten!

Finally it was over.

Her weeping continued for a good half minute, gradually easing into a ragged sniffling. The last of the ten stripes on her ass and thighs were swelling into nasty welts. God, she was magnificent! I was hard again. And there was more to come! I walked around to where her head was nearly pulled under the bench, held by her hair. Her eyes were still shut so I tapped her lips with the cane.

"What do you say, slave anna?"

It was several seconds before she could make her voice work again. "Thank you, Master," she croaked, kissing the cane, her breath shuddering.

"I'll let you rest a while before starting the second part of your punishment," I said. But her "rest" consisted of languishing in her bonds with her hair bound to the floor, the burning in her throat and the tearing at her scalp catching up to the pain of her badly inflamed posterior.

At the end of fifteen minutes she was more than ready to end her "rest." In fact, she begged me for it. Certainly, my dear. Let me help you out of the frying pan. I unbound her hair and removed the straps that held her legs to the kneeler, leaving her arms bound behind her and her knees and ankles strapped together. I picked her up and carried her to a small cage I had dragged to the center of the room. It was a cube, 25 inches to a side, constructed of thick black steel bands, horizontal and vertical, spaced about two inches apart. One side was hinged to open. I put anna on her side, folded her into a tight ball, thighs to chest, and forced her, butt first, into the cage, slamming the door shut and sealing it with a padlock.

"The balance of your punishment," I announced cooly, "is to remained confined in this cage for three hours. I will return periodically to check on you and to change the position of the cage. Unfortunately, you will find that no position remains tolerable for more than about ten minutes. After that, you must use your intelligence to find ways of coping."

"No! Please, Master . . ."

"Now it will be four hours. I can see that you really need some help to avoid these costly outbursts." I selected a ball-gag, opened the door, shoved it into her mouth and buckled its strap behind her head, making sure it was tight enough that she could not work the ball out of her mouth. She whimpered and looked at me piteously, but I closed and locked the door again and left her to drool precious strings of saliva that could have salved her parched throat. I kept track of her on the closed circuit TV system, enjoying her cramped writhing and listening to her cry from my lounger in the living room. Every half hour I returned and flipped the cage to a different side, which would end the torment to those parts of her body crushed against the bars under her weight, only to transfer it to other parts.

At the end of the four hours I released her from her ordeal. Staggering and mewling with thirst, she managed to stay on her feet as I pulled her up the stairs and into the kitchen where I allowed her to get down on her hands and knees and lap water out of her bowl. She was horrified when I led her to the bathroom and stood holding her leash as she used the toilet, but by now she knew better than complain.

Her final humiliation of the day arrived when she had finished her ablutions and I stood her beside my bed. Using padlocks, I attached one end of a six-foot chain to her collar and the other to the corner post at the head of the bed. Another chain of the same length connected her left ankle to the frame at the foot of the bed. Next I produced a large doggie bed — a woven basket with one side cut low and a puffy pad to accommodate your average pampered rottweiler — and placed it next to her. I added a blanket.

"Slave anna," I said warmly, "you've been a good girl and endured a lot this evening. Slavery becomes you, and I'm beginning to believe that you have what it takes to make that ambition come true. Therefore I'm granting you the privilege of sleeping in my room tonight on your own doggie bed. If you continue to improve, you will graduate to a palette. If you backslide, however, you will wind up sleeping naked on the hard floor with no blanket. Now bend over at the waist and put your hands on the floor."

I took her from behind one more time, deliberately slamming myself against her very sore bottom. She groaned and grit her teeth, but came so ferociously that her knees buckled. I held her up until I had emptied myself into her, then allowed her to lick my spent cock clean before I kissed her good night.

Chapter 5

That first week was very hard on anna. But I wasn't about to jeopardize a good thing, so I always backed off when she reached her limit. Or maybe a little beyond her limit. I kept stretching her.

Day Four was the first day in which she performed perfect service with no mistakes in my presence. She was rewarded by being allowed to sleep on a palette with a pillow instead of the dog bed. From that day forward perfect service in my presence earned her the palette and pillow. One mistake and she lost the pillow. Two infractions and her sleeping accommodations were downgraded to the dog bed. Three or more meant sleeping on the bare floor with only a pillow for comfort. Four errors and the pillow was gone as well. Her sleeping privileges were not affected by the errors she committed in my absence because I didn't want to discourage her commendable honesty. For those infractions she received only a light flogging, or perhaps a couple of hours crammed into a small cage, or in tight bondage.

A few times I gave her permission to put her doggie bowl on the table and have dinner with me, albeit with her hands clasped behind her. On exceptional occasions — say, when she had endured fairly severe torture and then thanked me prettily through her tears — I allowed her the luxury of a night in my bed and a long session of tender lovemaking. This was not pure altruism; it was to help reassure her that her decision to enter slavery was the right one, that it was paying off, and that the more she indulged her own desire to serve and suffer for my pleasure, the more I loved her.

One of the things that bothered her most at first was the constant nudity. She never admitted it, even during special time-outs when she was permitted to speak freely, but when she was allowed to go to the grocery store, her delight at being able to put on a dress was amusingly evident. A little girl dressing up like Mommy. This was in spite of the fact that her entire wardrobe, hand chosen by me, was just a click away from obscene. I always chose a dress that was short, clingy, usually sleeveless and strong on cleavage. Nor was she allowed to wear anything under it. I had burned all her panties, pantyhose and bras. But that didn't dampen her enthusiasm. She seemed to revel in the glares and ogling she invariably stirred up in her barely legal outfits.

But at home she was bare, period. Training a slave in this clothes-conscious society demands that she be stripped of any sense of dignity that might be conveyed by her apparel. She must be kept forcefully aware that her body is no longer her own property and that her dignity is no longer determined by how society views her, but only by how well she pleases her Owner. Forcing a slave continuously to expose those parts of her body that were formerly private, forces her mind to absorb the reality of her place within the new lifestyle she has chosen. Her Master's clothes become symbolic trappings of His absolute power and ascendency over her. Her nakedness and slutty public attire reinforce her status as a well-disciplined pet and sex object, trained to obey.

Even at the Iron Collar Club event we attended during that first month, I made her strip naked as soon as we were inside. I also cuffed her hands behind her back, put her in leg irons that clanked as I led her about on the leash, and wrote "SLAVE IN TRAINING" on her chest and back with a red felt marker. At one point I blindfolded her so that other Masters could use her and she wouldn't be able to tell whose cock was stuffing her mouth or cunt. One Master wanted to use her anus. She had never had anal sex and tensed up as the intrusion began, but his equipment was not large enough to hurt her, so I allowed it. I enjoy sharing my playthings with my friends. Naturally, they share theirs with me as well.

Another aspect of anna's training that shocked her was the policy of "no closed doors" that I announced on the second day. She was not allowed to close the door of any room she was in, including the bathroom. When she objected to the lack of privacy and claimed she would not be able to pee or move her bowels with me standing there watching, I took her immediately to the dungeon and chained her in a sitting position over a galvanized wash bucket, except that her ass was not touching the bucket. She was suspended by her wrists with her feet wide apart in front of her and chained to eyebolts in the floor. I then took a seat in front of her, opened a book and let it be known that I would remain there until she relieved both her bladder and her bowels into the open bucket. Whether it was from the increasing pain in her wrists and shoulders or common sense surrender to my determination, it took only ten minutes before she was pissing, shitting and crying with embarrassment and humiliation. But it didn't end there. She had to carry the foul smelling bucket up to the bathroom, empty and clean it, and then clean herself as well. All as I watched.

The following day it got worse for her. I instituted a regular bodily inspection to follow her morning shower and ablutions in which I would inspect every inch of her body, including her hair, hands, fingers, feet, toes and all three orifices. She takes it all for granted now, a far cry from the first few times I made her lie on the bed with her ass on the edge, spreading her legs wide and holding them high for me to conduct an in depth vaginal exam, then made her roll over with her face in the mattress and her ass high in the air for a detailed anal exam. The pain of her humiliation was wonderful to watch.

Then came her first enema.

I never tell anna what I have planned for her each evening because I've learned that fear of the unknown is a major part of her sexual excitement. When I told her to spread plastic sheeting on the dungeon floor, placed a stool near one end of it, bent her over the stool and tied her wrists and ankles to the legs, she probably thought she was in for another paddling or caning. She hates the pain, but the anticipation of it makes her juices flow. But when I brought out the infamous galvanized bucket, worry lines appeared on her brow, and when I produced a bulging enema bag, she began lunging against the ropes.

"No, Master! Please! I hate enemas! I can't hold it in!"

My rules allowed her to beg for mercy in the dungeon without asking permission. I love it! The more she cries and pleads, the more satisfying the torture.

Knowing she would tighten her rectum against it, I lubricated the nozzle before working it deep inside her. She was still begging me not to do it when I released the flow of water. Her pleading dissolved into whimpering and facial contortions as the warm water filled her belly, demanding release. "That's enough!" she pleaded. "I have to go, now! Please! I can't hold it!" Her litany of distress became punctuated by little sobs and gasps as the last drop in the bag crowded into her distended abdomen. I withdrew the nozzle slowly, knowing that it would feel to her like the cork being pulled from a champaign bottle. Her body trembled with the strain of keeping her sphincter closed against the watery sewage stretching her belly.

"Please! Please, Master! Untie me! I can't hold it!"

"Ah, but you're holding it very well," I teased. "No leakage at all. I'm proud of you. I want you to hold it like that for a full two minutes. If you make it to the bucket, you may sleep on my bed tonight. I'll count down from one hundred twenty so you can appreciate how well you're doing."

I began the count, knowing full well that she couldn't hold it that long. She wailed pitifully, her body shaking in her valiant attempt to avert the humiliating disaster. To my surprise she actually lasted the two minutes, crying now in her agony. But as I slowly began untying the rope around her left ankle, she uttered a heart-rending cry and a brown stream burst in a high arc from her tortured anus, splashing down on the plastic sheeting stretched out on the floor behind her. I made her clean it up, of course.

She's gotten used to the enemas, now. In fact, I think she may secretly have come to like them, in the same way she loves and fears the pain of being whipped, or left chained up on the St. Andrews cross for an hour or two. These days, if she's been good, I let her get to the toilet in time.

There were some other elements of her training that disturbed her, to say the least. But the one that continued to test her resolve the most was not being able to use the furniture without permission. Any furniture.

"You mean I can't sit down?" she had squealed in disbelief when I first announced the ban.

"Of course you may sit down," I had assured her, "just as you're doing now. On the floor. The furniture is entirely off limits to you, however, just as the dining room table is off limits, unless I give you specific permission. And that includes when you are home alone."

"But what if we have guests? Won't it look strange if I sit on the floor?"

"Our lifestyle friends will understand and even expect it. For others, you will look to me for silent permission and I will give it with a gesture to the chair you are permitted to use. This will be the case even when we are visiting others and in public places like airports. If I am not with you in a public place, you have my permission to use furniture, otherwise, you must always seek my approval."

"But what if I'm at a friend's house and you're not there?"

"That won't happen while you're in training. But later on, if it's a vanilla household, you will behave as they do so as not to raise questions. But in the home of our lifestyle friends, if the Master is present, you will ask his permission to use any furniture. Otherwise, ask permission of his slave."

"You mean this isn't just temporary, not being able to use furniture?"

"Absolutely not. It's the norm. It's an important part of keeping you aware that you no longer have rights, only privileges."

Equally hard for her to accept was my refusal to let her masturbate or reach orgasm at any time without permission. "Since, as a slave, your body does not belong to you, anna, neither does it's ability to provide you pleasure. You must ask you Master for permission to make use of your sexual facilities." Masturbation had been her only steady and reliable release for the eight years since she'd reached puberty. That and fantasies of brutal lovers and violent sex. However, having to ask permission to cum had another desirable effect on horny little anna: in her eagerness to be granted that coveted permission, she became quite willing to pay for it by enduring phenomenal torments.

The day finally arrived when she begged me to end the training period and accept her as a full-fledged contracted slave. She understood she still had flaws and things to learn, but she hated being a slave, yet not quite a slave. A kind of limbo. She handed me a letter she had written. She had taken care to follow the proper capitalization for Masters and slaves and the paper was spotted with the tears of her sincerity.

"Dearest Master Daniel,

From the first time we met, from the first touch of Your hand in that bar, i was in love with You. i didn't know why then, but i do now. There was — and is — an aura about You that fulfills a yearning that's been smoldering inside me since i was a little girl. i loved being bossed around by my older brothers and being punished by my parents when i was bad. And i was bad a lot. Maybe that's why. Right away You dispensed with all that sentimental dating bullshit and let me know that the depth of Your love for me depended entirely on the depth of my obedience to You. O God, how i love that! i get wet just thinking about the many ways you've punished me when i slipped. i fear the punishments and get all weak-kneed anticipating the pain and other tortures, but when it's over, i'm so proud that i managed to endure it and that You love and respect me all the more for it, i just want to throw myself on a plate so you can eat me alive! You've enabled me to be what i've always wanted to be: the beloved captive of a strong and harsh Master, free to abandon all pretense at being "normal" so that i can surrender my mind, body and soul to your unquestioned command. You have released the raving slut in me, shown me the joy of submitting utterly to Your stern will and made me happier than i could have ever thought possible. i offer myself as a gift and beg You to accept, unworthy as i am. i love You and want to please You more than i desire life itself. i will happily do anything You demand of me, suffer any agony You choose to inflict. Even if You should tire of me one day and decide to put me to death, i will accept your decision bravely and be grateful for the enchantment that You brought into my life. You have opened the door to an existence that has, until now, only been a lovely dream. With Your iron hand to guide me, i promise to grow into the well-trained, devoted slave You desire and can love and be proud of.

Your prostrate slave,

anna

What more can a man ask? She had sealed her own fate, exactly as I had known she would.

Chapter 6

Ceremonies are psychological branding irons. Heated to a bright glow in the forge of public witness, they burn a commitment into the tender flesh of our psyche. Never do we fully appreciate in advance the agony that attends the kiss of that white hot iron.

A collaring ceremony, like a wedding, is the formal, oral validation of a signed contract. For the bride, that contract, has many legal ramifications. For the slave, none. The bride's obligations under her contract are vague and arguable. The slave's are specific and ironclad. Brides and grooms almost never negotiate the terms and details of their relationship before consummating the contract; they battle it out later. Master and slave always negotiate their contract before signing it; later there may be revised contracts, but each party knows exactly what's expected of the other at all times, in writing. Marriage contracts assume a lifetime union, and about half the time it works out that way. A slavery contract can be for whatever length of time is agreed upon. In our case there was never a question; I would own anna for life.

I picked out two collars for her from an on-line fetish supply store. The one she would wear around the house from now on, and when visiting lifetime friends or attending bdsm events, was black leather, about an inch and a quarter wide with four silver restraining rings equally spaced. It locked in place with a small silver padlock. For appearing in public when something more subtle is required, I had selected a gorgeous gold collar only 3/4 of an inch wide inlaid with alternating stones of jade and sapphire. It had a single leash ring (mostly symbolic, but functional) and a tiny imbedded lock to which, like the silver padlock on the other collar, only I held the key. To the uninitiated observer it seemed to be simply an unusually lovely choker. Naturally, it was this more elegant collar that we used at the ceremony.

There are times, of course, when any collar at all would be so out of place as to attract unwanted attention. A public beach, for example. For those times I had devised a more hidden symbol of my ownership. I had pierced both of her labia and inserted gold rings which I connected with a brass padlock. The padlock was inscribed with the name "anna" on one side and the words "slave of Master Daniel" on the other. At the beach or pool, the thong of her bathing suit would press the rings and padlock up into her vulva. On all other occasions, since she was never allowed to wear pants, jeans or panties, the heavy padlock would swing freely between her thighs, a continuous and erotic reminder that she was my property. As it turned out, the sight of it made such a tantalizingly erotic picture in my mind that I made her wear it almost constantly.

One other distinction between a wedding and a collaring ceremony was the matter of dress. Brides traditionally expend enormous amounts of time, energy and money on that critical piece of frivolity, the wedding gown. Slaves, on the other hand, spend none. The young woman making her formal commitment to slavery is always nude. Thus, she can spend all her energy and feminine expertise on cleaning her body to her Master's satisfaction, fixing her hair to suit her Master's preference, painting her toenails and fingernails the way her Master likes them and adorning her face and body with whatever cosmetics and jewelry her Master finds most attractive.

For our ceremony, anna was breathtakingly lovely. Her mound of Venus had been shaved clean to match the smooth elegance of her legs. I had applied a soft rouge to the delicate lips of her pussy and to those wonderfully ever-erect nipples — virgin still, in that no piercings had yet disturbed their natural beauty. The pastel pink gloss on her lips matched her fingers and toes — iridescent enough to highlight her slender hands and feet, but subtle enough not to spoil the sweet youthfulness of her face. She was more radiant in her nakedness than any bride swaddled in yards of overpriced cloth.

The audience I had invited to the ceremony were all friends from the Iron Collar Club who were already in a Master/slave relationship and had gone through the ritual themselves. There were six couples in all. Four were male Doms with female slaves, like myself and anna; two were fem Dommes with fem slaves; and one was a fem Domme with a male slave. The latter is a relationship that gives me the creeps because I just cannot imagine being subservient to a woman, but Mistress Tyler and slave chris are irresistible people — very funny, very charming — and behave like your average man and wife, except in scenes and at the Club. All twelve were more than willing to attend our little ceremony, not just because of the tanker of free booze and the opportunity to play with a new slave, but because we of the bdsm lifestyle are a genuinely social bunch — which is to say: voyeuristic, exhibitionistic and theatrical. We love to watch, put on and perform in a good show, especially when there's audience participation. Besides, it's a satisfying thing to witness the addition of new, fully committed slaves to our lifestyle.

The collaring, in accordance with tradition, took place at night in a room (my living room) illuminated entirely by candles. I was seated on a stool in the center of the room with the guests seated in a circle around me. anna was led into the room and through the circle on a silver leash by Tom's slave kristina. she took a kneel up position on the floor facing me. Another slave, oriana, one of two owned by Jason Moore, brought in a silver charger bearing the contract I had prepared. Unlike most slavery contracts the terms had not been negotiated. I had simply drawn them up and allowed anna to read them. Furthermore, since this contract was for life, there would be no tedious negotiations in the future. In her own handwriting anna had stated that she wanted to be my slave forever, and on my terms. That's the deal she was about to sign.

In accordance with tradition, the "vows" consisted of anna reading aloud the terms of the contract. Her voice was clear, her face alive with happiness.

"I, anna, of my own free will," she read, "declare that it is my choice and intent to enter into slavery as the property of Master Daniel Fortune. By signing this Contract of Slavery, i agree to renounce all rights to my body, mind and spirit, ceding possession of them to Master Daniel as his fully owned property. i also agree that all my worldly possessions likewise become the property of Master Daniel, including all assets, finances and material goods, to be dealt with as He sees fit.

" Section A: slave's role . slave (anna) agrees to submit completely to Master in every respect. There is no place, time or situation in which slave may refuse to obey Master and understands that He may use her body in any way He chooses. slave agrees that she exists only for Master's pleasure and will strive to please Him to the best of her ability at all times. slave understands and agrees that with the signing of this Contract she has no rights whatsoever, only duties and privileges as determined by Master."

She cleared her throat and moved on.

" Section B: Rules of Behavior . (1) slave agrees to remold her body, attitude, habits and appearance according to Master's express demands, including all actions, speech and dress. (2) slave will always speak of and to Master in terms of love and respect, addressing him as Sir, Master or Master Daniel, except in vanilla company where she shall refer to Him as Daniel. (3) slave renounces all privacy or concealment from Master. slave will close no doors to conceal herself from Master and will submit to any photography or video photography required by Master for whatever purpose He chooses. (4) slave will accept gracefully any criticism from Master in any form He chooses. (5) slave will answer fully and truthfully any and all questions put to her by Master. slave will volunteer anything Master should know about her physical condition or failures to obey His rules while He is absent. (6) When not in the same room as Master, slave will knock and ask permission to enter before doing so. When in the same room as Master, slave will ask permission before leaving room, explaining where she is going and why. This includes permission to use the bathroom. (7) slave will be responsible for all household chores as directed by Master."

anna paused, swallowed with an effort, and gave me a look beseeching relief for her drying throat. Naturally, I ignored it. She went on to the next paragraph.

" Section C: slave's body and general appearance . (1) slave will remain nude at all times, except as directed by Master. Any apparel worn at any time or anywhere by slave must be approved by Master. At no time is slave to wear undergarments of any kind. (2) slave shall never close her lips or cross her legs but must remain symbolically and physically open to Master and others of His choosing at all times. (3) slave shall always keep her body parts ready for immediate display, in public or private, in case Master orders such a display. (3) Master may pierce, tattoo, scar or brand any part of slave's body. (4) slave shall at all times wear a symbol identifying her as the property of Master."

anna swallowed again, with more difficulty. Again, I merely smiled at her. I did not intend to start spoiling her now.

" Section D: Punishment . slave agrees to accept any punishment Master chooses to inflict, whether earned or not. slave agrees that severe punishment may be assessed for anything He deems to be a serious breach of this Contract or any other rules he establishes. The extent and form of any punishment shall be entirely at his discretion. He may also punish slave merely for His own pleasure. slave agrees that screaming, crying and begging, however genuine an indication of her suffering, will not necessarily affect her treatment. slave further agrees that Master may at any time silence her with gags or by any other means."

Now we moved to an area of our contract that's quite different from most.

" Section E: Safe words . The slave agrees that there will be no 'safe words' for her punishments and play. Since Master has a proprietary interest in protecting the health and value of his property, slave willingly surrenders any veto power over His decisions as to the length and severity of punishments and playtime activities."

Half of our audience looked dubious. The other half smiled. This was practically unheard of.

anna began to squirm a little as her knees registered the discomfort of the hard wood floor under her hundred and fourteen pounds. But remembering that I had twice refused her pleas for relief from thirst, she soldiered on.

" Section F: Other people . (1) slave may not have sexual relations with any other Master or lover without Master's permission under penalty of extreme punishment. (2) Master, however, may accept any other slaves or lovers for sexual purposes as suits His whim and slave will be available, as always, to serve these relationships according to Master's wishes. (3) Master, as Owner of slave's body, has the right to determine whether others may use it and to what use they may put it. slave has no say in either choice since her only valid concern is to please Master."

At this point we had reached the final stage of the contract, the part where anna and I would sign it. Once signed, there would be no turning back for anna. She read on.

" Section G: Master's Signature. I, Master Daniel, have read this Contract in its entirety and fully understand it. With the signing of this Contract, I accept this slave, anna, as my property, taking into possession sole ownership of her body, mind and possessions. I agree to love her, support her financially and protect her to the best of my ability. I agree to command her, train her, respect her and punish her as a slave. I understand that this Contract is for the entirety of slave's life and that she may not withdraw from it for any reason. In the unlikely event she displeases me, however, I also reserve the right to terminate her or her to another Master. In the event she is sold, slave will be required to sign a new contract suitable to her new owner."

As anna read these last terms, I watched our guests closely. There were some raised eyebrows at the provision for her possible sale (a highly unusual feature, to be sure), but no one appeared to have caught the significance of the word "terminate." Just as I had expected, they assumed it was simply another way of saying "withdraw from the Contract." anna knew the true implication full well, however. she had, after all, proposed the idea herself in her letter.

oriana handed me a gold-plated pen and I signed and dated the Contract on the appropriate line.

anna moved on to the final paragraph.

" slave's signature . i, anna, have read this Contract of Slavery in it's entirety and fully understand and agree to it. By my signature below i agree to relinquish possession of my body, mind and spirit to Master Daniel, to be his wholly owned property. i agree to abide by all the terms of this Contract and obey all other rules demanded of me by Master now and in the future, accepting His decisions in all things. i understand that this is a lifetime Contract and i cannot withdrawn from it for any reason whatsoever. i further understand that if i fail to please Master, He may terminate me or sell me as He sees fit, and that in the latter event i will sign whatever new contract He orders me to sign."

slave oriana handed anna a special antique quill pen, the type that the Bob Crachets of the world used to dip into ink wells. anna knew what was coming and waited stoically with her eyes closed as oriana handed me a small knife. Holding anna's left hand firmly, I cut a quarter inch gash in the end of the fourth finger. she jumped a little at the sting, then opened her eyes to watch the blood trickle down her finger and collect in her palm. she dipped the pen into the gathering pool and signed and dated the Contract with her own blood, a unique touch to symbolize a contract of rare severity.

Now it was time to present anna with the symbols of my ownership. While kristina bound up anna's finger, oriana handed me the gold collar and its key. I put it around anna's neck and snapped the lock shut. kristina then held out the next symbol of anna's new status, the inscribed brass padlock and its matching brass key. I ordered anna to stand up, spread her feet wide apart and clasp her hands behind her neck. When she did, I threaded the open shackle of the padlock through the two rings in her labia and snapped it shut. anna's face glowed with such pride that I kissed her firmly on her newly locked pussy. Then I stood up and made a show of dropping both keys in my pocket. The guests applauded and cheered loudly. It was the signal to begin the party.

 

anna's journal. April 5

Master has ordered me to keep a journal as part of my daily activities. As if i didn't have enough to do around here. Oops! i forgot. Master will be reading this journal. Guess i'll be punished for that bit of sarcasm. Sorry, Master. i shouldn't disrespect Your commands. But You did insist that i be absolutely open and honest about my feelings. So when you warm my butt, or however you decide to punish me, please remember i'm just trying to be honest and above board in my clumsy way.

i see now why You insisted i write in pen and not on the computer. No way to edit out things i shouldn't have said. So now i can get myself in constant trouble, right? i foresee my bottom is going to be sore a lot! The journal is bound, too, with pre-numbered pages. A nice touch. No cheating possible, even if i wanted to. Which i don't. In my contract i promised You 100% honesty and that's what You will get.

The collaring ceremony last night was the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me and i'll cherish the memory of it as long as i live, which, of course, is now in Your hands, Master. i almost chuckled when no one caught the word "terminate" and what it really means. i get all tingly just thinking about how absolutely i am Your slave, now, how You may do whatever You wish with me, no matter how terrible, and i must endure it.

Master, i want to be tested, no matter how cruelly, so that i may prove how much i adore You, so that in my sacrifice of pain and terror i may give You the pleasure You desire. Even when, at the last moment, my natural instinct is to turn and run from the room, i force myself to submit meekly. What a relief it is when You chain me or tie me up so that i am helpless to resist Your punishments, no matter how painful or humiliating. How marvelous it is to be gagged so that i can't annoy You with my screams. Sweet Master, every moment of my suffering is fully repaid when You take me in Your arms and tell me You love me. i live for those moments.

i have to confess it was really hard to read that last bit in the Contract about You having the right to sell me if i displease You. i know how we discussed the fact that I'm now property, just like Your BMW and Your house and Your golf clubs and You can do whatever You want with me. It's just that it's scary to think that You might get tired of me and throw me away. i can't bear to think of life without You. i'd rather You "terminate" me like a sick old dog. Dear Master, i promise to do everything in my power to keep you happy for as many years as i live; but if i fail and You decide You'd rather sell me than put me out of my misery, please sell me to the cruelest Master you can find, someone who will make me pay a terrible price for that failure.

But i'm not going to dwell on dark thoughts any more. You promised to love me and that's the thought i'm going to cling to!

The ceremony was spectacular! The candles, the velvet drapery, the men in their handsome leathers and their women in such stunning finery! i loved slave teri's burgandy dress with the front slit and the way it flared open slightly when she walked, giving us little peeks at her pussy. When You threaded the padlock through my labia rings, i thought my heart would burst with pride. Actually, i had thought maybe You would take out the rings and push the padlock through the little holes in my flesh, and i was determined not to scream. But using the little rings is even better because now it clinks a little as i walk, so i not only feel the padlock banging around down there, but hear it, too, all day long. i can hardly wait for the next time You take me out so i can wear the beautiful gold collar. Thank You, Master. i shall do my best to be worthy of Your generosity.

The activities that followed the collaring made a perfect official start for my life in slavery. i hope i made You proud of me! i'm gradually learning how to deal with pain so that i don't try Your patience. On the other hand, perhaps it pleases You more when i cry and go to pieces and beg for your pity like the cowardly slut i am. That way You can gag me and punish me all the more. If that's what you prefer, that's easy!

Remaining on my hands and knees for an hour to be used as a table for the drinks and the finger food was a cool idea. Of course my knees were already sore and my throat dry from reciting that long contract so i had to concentrate on not whining. Then, when i was ordered to lift up my head and stick out my tongue so our smoker guests could use me as an ashtray? That was a first! i really did my best not to duck away when the hot ashes hit my tongue, or gag when i had to swallow them. i hope that You appreciated how well i behaved.

You had already explained to me that, as a newly minted slave, i would be the main subject for the night's entertainment, so I prepared myself mentally as much as i could for whatever might ensue. Obviously, my imagination fails to measure up to yours.

i remember how relieved i felt at being ordered to my feet, giving my sore knees a break, even though i was offered nothing to ease my throat or my burned tongue and ashy mouth. When You made me spread my legs, tied a spreader bar to my ankles and had me put my hands behind my neck, i didn't get too worried at first, even when you added a blindfold. i figured that whatever was coming next couldn't be really painful or You'd have restrained me more. Fear began to crawl up my belly, though, when i heard You explain to the guests — Masters and slaves alike — that they were to express their congratulations by selecting "one of the items" oriana was holding and give me five congratulatory whacks. FIVE EACH for TWELVE guests!! i don't know who hit me the hardest, the Masters or their slaves. The whips, crops and canes landed all over me — my butt, thighs, breasts, belly, pussy, even my armpits. By the time it ended i was crying, but You have to admit, i never broke my pose or tried to dodge any of the blows. And twelve times five is a lot of strokes! Fortunately, some of the guests took pity and used a flogger, which i actually like. It stings but it doesn't have the terrible bite of the cane and the whips.

The next part was scary, but only because i was still blindfolded and didn't know what you guys were up to. While i was still snuffling, four hands picked me up and laid me face up on what could only be our ottoman. i'm glad it wasn't a table or the floor because the fresh stripes on my back and bottom were very sore. The cool leather upholstery of the ottoman was actually a little soothing. Someone held my arms stretched over my head and one or two others held my legs up and spread into a V. i felt the labia padlock being removed and the lips spread open. When the first plop landed on my breast and instantly blossomed into a burning pain, i knew right away it was candle wax, probably the purple and black ones that had lighted the ceremony. Those dark waxes are particularly hot and really hurt when they sit there on your skin sealing in the heat! But i didn't scream until someone poured it right on my spread-open cunt. Oh my God!!! Slapping it off of there with a little leather belt wasn't exactly a joy, either. But then, when someone inserted a funnel in my vagina and started pouring in champagne, Holy Cuntlips, Batman! Did that sting! But when everyone had a go at slurping it out again, that was a white horse of a different color! The alternating between the cold stinging when it went in and the warm lapping when it came out made me cum over and over. i wonder how that tasted!

The final part of this little congratulatory sequence, the gang bang, would have been pure pleasure for me, if it were not for the residual pain all over my body and formerly private parts. So far as i could tell, all twelve of our guests, including the girls with their dildos, had at me at least once, filling every available hole, while others held me in various accessible positions, my forearms taped together tightly behind my back. Were You among my visitors, dear Master? i hope so. It's embarrassing that i could not tell which cock was Yours. Some were so huge and so long that i gagged on them when they were pushed way down my throat. i know i vomited at least twice. It was nice of slave terri to clean it up for me, by the way. Please accept my heartfelt thanks, Master, for a magnificent ceremony and for allowing me to end it with a dizzying series of orgasms.

Later, after our guests had left, You topped even that by telling me You love me and allowing me to spend the night cuddled next to You in Your own bed! It made a wonderful grand finale to the most important day of my life. Thank you, Master. i am the world's happiest woman and most devoted slave! At last my life has a clearly defined purpose and i never again have to worry about my future and plans and making the right choices. i made my ultimate choice when i gave myself to You and ceased to exist as my own miserable person. Anna with a capital A is gone as surely as if she sank into the depths of the ocean. slave anna is merely a part of Your estate, no more, no less. The planning and the choices for slave anna are Yours to make.

All i ask out of life is the opportunity to earn Your love. Whatever it takes.

 

Chapter 7

Well, all that contract bullshit was out of the way. Now we could get down to the real thing. It's all hocus pocus crap, of course, like the ceremonies priests perform, as though their "transubstantiation" rituals turn bread into flesh in any real way. There's no force of law involved in a slavery contract, even the wishy-washy contracts that spell out all the things a Master can't do and give the slave the veto power of "safe words." What the hell kind of a slave is that? What kind of a Master puts up with a slave who can dictate her limits and walk out if he crosses the line? Not me, kiddo. It was not the Law that now bound anna to me inextricably for as long as I chose to keep her. It was not a legal document that would compel her to accept whatever torture I invented for her. It was the power of her own mind, an unbreakable psychological fetter forged in the words she spoke and sealed with the pain and humiliation of that dark, forceful ceremony.

I could have made her suffering much greater, of course, but that could wait. There was plenty of time and opportunity ahead. For me, pain was an art form and anna was now a living canvas for my artistry. She had no real notion of the hellish extremes I was planning for her. And there was no question in my mind of it being abuse because I planned to do it in such a way that she'd end up craving it. I would create in her an insatiable need for pain and sex, and still more pain.

The day following the ceremony I ordered her to start a journal that she was to update every day with an accounting of everything she did. She was also to record what was on her mind because now not even her thoughts were private. They belonged to me, along with her body. Stripping her of any sense of ownership or privacy, mental as well as physical, was vital.

Many Masters fail in their role because they allow their slaves to find ways to be dishonest with them, such as not mentioning things that might lead to punishment. There was no doubt in my mind that anna was as capable as anyone of dissembling, so before allowing her to reside in my house, I had installed numerous secret cameras, microphones and bugs to catch her in any deceit. In truth, I had looked forward to doing so; the punishment would be severe. Unfortunately, anna was maddeningly honest from the start and confessed every transgression openly that had been caught secretly with the surveillance equipment. She even confessed things that were beyond the scope of electronics, like uncharitable thoughts about me after a particularly stressful session in the dungeon. This gave me no shortage of reasons to punish her, but no excuse to push her to extremes. Arbitrary severe punishment might very well shock her out of the carefully laid psychological conditioning that had cemented her slave mentality. Patience! Patience! I would get her to where I wanted her like the turtle: slow and steady.

In the meantime, I was still having fun. One chilly day, for example, anna became really bothered by the cold. The hidden cameras caught her shivering and stopping now and then to curl up in a corner of the couch, hugging herself for warmth. Finally she grabbed one of my bathrobes and put it on so she could go about her housework uninterrupted. When it came time to assume her waiting position by the door with the whip and martini, she carefully replaced the robe and dutifully waited in the nude, shuddering periodically. She served me a fine roast pork dinner, ate my scraps out of her bowl on the floor, tidied up and presented herself to me in the living room for the evening debriefing. Mind you, I hadn't yet seen the tapes when I asked, as always, "Have you been a good today, slave anna, and obeyed all the rules?"

Without hesitation she said, "No, Master. I was very cold today and put on one of your robes to stop shivering."

"You put on clothes without permission? You know that's forbidden."

"Yes, Sir. And there's worse."

"Worse?"

"Yes, Sir. Before that I tried to get warm by curling up in a corner of the sofa."

"You used the furniture without permission? That's very bad. Why didn't you curl up on a rug? That would have been proper."

"I tried it, Sir. The floor's drafty and made it worse. I know I broke two rules and must be punished for it, if it pleases you, Master."

As usual, I had to resist the impulse to sweep her up and kiss her, she looked so damned cute kneeling there with her face an adorable complex of contrition, fear and determination to be brave. But I kept my own face impassive as I passed sentence, concocting a careful mix of praise and condemnation.

"You did well to report these offenses, anna. Were there any others today?"

"Yes, Master. Twice I caught myself with my lips closed. But I worked hard all day to clean the house and prepare your dinner and tried very hard to obey all the rules you've posted. I wrote in my journal and did three loads of laundry. I was just so cold, Master. I was shivering all day. But I know there's no excuse for disobeying."

"That's right. There is none. I will take your honesty into consideration when I punish you, but the nudity rule is inviolable. Had you called me at the office, I would have given you permission to turn up the heat, but never to cover your body. And certainly I would not give you permission to use the furniture. Your punishment must be sufficiently harsh to drive those two points home. You understand that, don't you anna?"

She stared at the floor, fear crowding out the other emotions in her voice. "Yes, Master, I understand. If it pleases you, treat me as harshly as you wish so that I'll learn my lesson. I am yours."

"Well said. Now go to the dungeon door and stand there with your head bowed in shame, and wait for me."

She got to her feet immediately and scurried down the cellar stairs. I left her standing alone down there for twenty minutes, keeping an eye on her with my office monitor to make sure she didn't lean on the wall or fidget. But she was still as death.

When I felt she had stewed long enough worrying about what punishment I would dole out, I ambled slowly down the stairs and unlocked the dungeon door. She followed me in and stood to one side, her head still bowed, as I closed the door behind her. I positioned a small table in the middle of the room and ordered her to bend over it and grab the far edge with her hands. This was a typical beginning for light punishment, so she quickly laid her body over the table and waited.

"For failing to keep your lips parted, you are sentenced to ten strokes with the belt, five for each instance. For your honesty in reporting the violations, I will reduce the sentence by half. I want you to count the strokes and thank me for each one. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Master."

She closed her eyes. She hated the belt and the sight of her lying there, so young and beautiful and eager to please, melted my heart. But with so few strokes for her punishment, I had to make them memorable. Accordingly, I brought the belt down hard on her exposed rump. She jumped and emitted a series of gasps, absorbing the stunning pain. But, good slave that she was, she forced herself to settle back for the next blow, a stripe the width of the belt emerging on her white bottom.

"One,"she said, when she had caught her breath. "Thank you, Master,".

By the time she had counted the fifth stroke and thanked me for it, she was biting her lip to hold back her tears, her bottom ablaze. After she kissed the belt, I ordered her to remain with her torso on the table but to put her arms behind her back, grabbing her elbows with her hands. I secured them in that position with three small belts and told her to stay there while I prepared the next punishment.

I extricated a cast iron chair from my corner collection and placed it under a chain hanging from a ceiling pulley. The seat of the chair was a honeycomb grill, much like the cooking surface of an outdoor barbeque pit. Perfect for what I had in mind. Seizing anna by the hair, I pulled her off the table to a standing position, removed her leather collar and replaced it with a heavy iron version, 2½ inches wide, hinged in the middle and clamped shut with a 5/8 inch bolt and nut. It was rusty and uncomfortable, with its aura of ancient torture chambers and hopeless captivity. anna had never worn such a device but seemed more excited than nervous. She would soon change her mind.

"You like furniture, anna," I remarked wryly. "Sit down on that chair."

She did as she was told, of course, and said nothing as I bound her ankles and knees together. When I drew the chain down and attached it to the single ring in her collar, she had no reaction until I pulled it up so taut that the iron collar nearly lifted her off the seat. Next I put clamps on her nipples and attached them with cords to the seat in front of her crotch. That made her wince. As the pain from the clamps intensified, I put a 3/4 inch dowel in her mouth like a horse's bit and tied it tightly into place with leather thongs. Now she could only produce whimpering sounds and drool. I produced a metal washtub and emptied into it two bags of ice cubes. I always keep a good supply of packaged ice in the freezer for just such an occasion. Lifting her feet, I shoved the tub in front of the iron chair and planted her feet in the ice, securing them in place with a rope tied around her legs just above her knees and cinched down to the handles of each side of the tub. Then I poured in two more packages of ice.

"You thought you were cold today?" I said. "Now you'll find out what cold is really like. But don't worry. I'll provide you with warmth to compensate."

I left her fretting about her rapidly freezing feet and found a space heater in a storage area outside the dungeon room. I also located a large, round metal tub. My intent was to direct heat at her ass through the grill seat, but since space heaters are designed to shut off when tipped on their back, I placed the heater inside the tub to collect the hot blast and deflect it upwards. I plugged in the heater, turned it up high and shoved the tub under her seat. Brief spasms of shivering had begun to shake her naked body, but the introduction of the heater put a stop to that. Her relief was short lived. As the iron grill heated up and the welts from the session with the belt responded to both the grill and the scorching hot air from the heater with redoubled pain, anna squirmed and tried to lift herself away from the seat. The effort made the nipple clamps bite more savagely into her already tortured breasts. I knew that the pain would soon drive her to yank free of the clamps when the pain resulting from sitting on the grill became intense enough, so I added another chain over her lap and around the seat that prevented her from rising more than five inches, a position she could sustain for no longer than a few minutes at a time before her burning leg muscles would no longer hold her up. The garbled noises emanating from around the bit in her mouth were a testament to her distress, as much as her writhing and hopeless attempts to escape her predicament. The sight made me incredibly hard, but she would take care of that need later.

"Think about the cold at your lovely feet and the warmth on your sweet bottom for a while, slave anna, and how much better it is when you suffer a little discomfort rather than disobey an order. Will you be covering any part of your body without permission from now on, anna?"

She shook her head vigorously, saliva spraying from around the bit.

"And will you be feeling the need to use the furniture without permission?"

She made desperate little noises as she continued to shake her head. Her eyes were wild.

"Good. I shall leave you here for a while, just to make sure the lesson sinks in."

She lunged at her chains and made pitiful squeaking sounds, but I calmly left the room and closed the door. I'm sure she thought I had abandoned her and that she might be roasted alive before I thought to come back. But I watched her carefully on the monitor. She was much too valuable a property to risk serious harm.

In fifteen minutes she was obviously close to collapse, so I rejoined her in the dungeon.

"So tell me, anna, will you be staying off the furniture from now on unless given permission?"

She nodded slowly, grinding her teeth against the unrelenting pain.

"And do you agree that you must never cover your nakedness for any reason unless given specific permission?"

Again she flopped her head in assent, making little gasps as she struggled with her torment.

"Then I shall release you from your punishment."

I slid the heater out from under her seat — literally now a grill — and removed the chain around her lap. She struggled to stand up, but her strength was gone and she could not break the grip of the nipple clamps. I took them off in a quick motion and she screamed through her bit as blood rushed back in and she was slammed by a fierce pain. I removed the collar and the straps that bound her legs together and to the chair. When I helped her out of the tub of ice, she stumbled on numbed feet and would have fallen had I not caught her. Her legs trembled as I stood her up and removed the bit and the straps binding her arms behind her.

"What do you say, anna?"

She tried to speak but her throat was too dry. It's difficult to swallow with a gag in your mouth. Most of your saliva is lost in a stream of drool. She whispered instead.

"Thank you, Master, for punishing me."

I replaced the harsh iron collar with her regular leather one, attached a leash and led her up the stairs to my bedroom. She fell to her knees twice along the way, but I remained patient and didn't scold her. An examination in the bedroom revealed the amount of pain she had suffered. Her entire posterior was bright red with a latticework of purple stripes where the hot grid had seared her skin. Her labia were also inflamed and swollen from the intense heat. Her feet, on the other hand, were only beginning to change from blue to their normal color. If I had demanded vaginal sex at that point, I would have had to put up with a lot of screaming, or gag her. Instead, I made her get down on her knees and bring me off with her mouth, swallowing the cum. I left her chained to the bed, to sleep uncovered on the hard floor.

 

anna's journal, May 29

Yesterday was a very difficult day. i am lying on my side on the living room rug writing this because my fanny is too sore to sit. i was very bad, yesterday. i broke two rules. i should have known better, but it was so cold! i put on one of Master's robes without asking permission and, worse, crawled into a corner of the couch to get warm.

Well, Master gave me a well deserved punishment that i won't soon forget. First He beat my ass red with a belt, then He strapped me to a metal chair with my feet in a bucket of ice and a heater under the seat setting my sore rear end on fire! If i didn't know better, i would have sworn He was actually cooking me on a hot griddle. i couldn't quite stand up because He'd chained me to the chair and connected clamps on my tits to the edge of the seat. i thought i would lose my mind from the pain before He released me. i was afraid of passing out and having my ass maimed by the heat or my feet by frostbite. What would happen to me then? Master wouldn't want to keep a maimed and ugly slave.

Thankfully, He saved me just as my strength was giving out. He made me sleep naked on the floor and i shivered through the night, but it's what i deserved. First, though, He let me give him head. i hope that means He still loves me.

I made a special effort to prepare Him a really good breakfast this morning. I even went out into the garden and picked some flowers to decorate the table. It was cold out there, too, with the wind chilling my bare skin. He touched the bouquet and smiled, so i think He appreciated the gesture. He made me dump my oatmeal on the floor and lick it up as a final punishment for yesterday's disobedience, but He kissed me before He left for work, and stroked my cheek. i almost moaned with happiness.

It's strange, even now with my bum so sore i can hardly touch it, i look back on that scene in the dungeon last night and the tingle starts, the one that begins between my legs and runs up through my belly to the ends of my fingers. It was a horrible experience, and yet the memory of it excites me terribly. i almost want to make another mistake so i'll have to be punished. It's scary because i never know what Master will do, whether He'll whip me with the flogger— which hurts in a kind of sensuous, leathery way — or with the bull whip, where the pain is so horrid i usually pass out. And then there's the sort of thing He did last night with the chair. It's not immediately intense like getting whipped or caned, but the suffering goes on and on. Knowing i'll have to confess every little misbehavior and bad thought when Master comes home and ask Him to punish me keeps my anxiety level up all day, but it's also incredibly erotic. Although even when i've been entirely good, Master often takes me to the dungeon anyway, just for His own amusement. i like those sessions because the pain is not so severe. And He always uses one or two of His vibrator toys and allows me to cum whenever i ask Him nicely. Later He makes love to me and lets me sleep in His bed. That's the best part.

 

Chapter 8

Charlene and Robby Clarkson, anna's parents, were an intermittent but irksome nuisance. From the time anna announced to them that she was moving in with me, they were bent on convincing her it was a bad idea unless and until I was ready to propose marriage. Not that they were necessarily opposed to cohabition before marriage; they were well aware that it's now the norm and had, in fact, done it themselves. Nor were they displeased that she had hooked up with a doctor for a boyfriend. Their concern seemed to be prompted by their natural desire to look after the best interests of their naïve daughter who had a reputation for impulsive behavior, particularly since she had also informed them that we had decided she should drop out of college. (Actually, it was my decision alone. Attending college was incompatible with her training for slavery.) Naturally, they could not be told about our actual relationship, but anna had assured them that we had signed our own special contract in lieu of a marriage contract and that our contract suited her just fine.

A non-marital contract fell far short of suiting Charlene, however. "Ms. Clarkson and boyfriend" in no way compared to "Dr. and Mrs." in her mind as an appropriate family reference. She had a lot to say about anna's dire future should something happen to me and she were stranded without a college education. anna's response was that I was hardly poor, and the contract provided for her future in the event of my demise. (It was a sweetly told lie, of course. What I had actually told anna was that I would make provision for her in five years if she continued to please me, but that it would be at a time and in terms of my choosing as her owner.) Robby seemed less concerned with her dropping out of college (I suspect he was not all that unhappy to be relieved of the financial burden), but both he and Charlene worried endlessly about "just what kind of protection" this contract gave anna. How binding is it? What if I decided to seek greener pastures ("like so many men do!")? Their misgivings were definitely not lessened by our refusal to show them the contract. But anna was commendably adamant. "It's a private matter between Daniel and me," she told her parents. "We both agreed to the terms of the contract and we're going to stick with it. You and Daddy will have to be satisfied with the fact that I am supremely happy, totally in love, well cared for, and would never swap my contract with Daniel for a mere marriage."

In terms of their love for their daughter, the Clarkson's trepidations were well justified. If they had known just how well, they would have made big trouble, so it was important to keep them in the dark. More precisely, it was important that their daughter keep them in the dark. anna had made her choice when she signed the Slavery Contract and I held her to it. To begin with, I ordered her to write a note in her own hand explaining that she had decided to spend some time in Asia to expand her cultural horizons. I kept it locked up as insurance; it would be used to explain her disappearance, if that became necessary. I made it clear to anna that if her parents' meddling caused serious trouble, she would, indeed, disappear. I would sell her to an Asian Master of my acquaintance and she would never see her parents or me or her homeland again. "If you think I can be cruel," I warned her, "wait till a Cambodian slave Master binds your arms behind you, nails your tits to a railing, and makes you stand there for twelve hours being periodically whipped, caned and buggered by paying clients. anna's love-hate relationship with pain fell well short of that prospect, so she was careful to keep her parents ignorant of her slavery.

As long as they stayed in their own home, which was several states away, there was no problem. I simply restricted anna's contact with them to E-mail only. I was always present to censor her messages because she did not have the password for the computer. The phone was off limits to her except for emergency calls to me. Incoming calls were intercepted by an answering machine with Caller I.D. and everything said on the phone was monitored and recorded by a device in my locked office. anna made only one attempt to cheat on the no-phone rule and the punishment was so brutal she never touched the phone again without a direct order to do so. I had hogtied her with her wrists bound to her ankles behind her and suspended her four feet off the floor for five hours. What made it truly cruel was that I taped headphones to her ears and piped in an endlessly repeated loop of Sean Paul's "Dutty Rock." By the time I took her down, she was hysterical from the physical and psychological torment. But she learned her lesson.

It was the visits from her parents that were the most trying. As long as they were in our house, anna had to be dressed and most of our normal activities had to be curtailed, including her training. It was not a healthy situation. But anna had to be the one who discouraged such visits. If I forbade them to come, it would identify me as their enemy and intensify their meddling. That wouldn't do. It would have been so easy simply to order anna to send them away because she would have done it. I knew, however, that she needed a more self-serving motivation to do it right.

I employed several subtle prods, beginning with the need to let her wear something in her parents' presence. All I permitted her were simple, sleeveless dresses, all short in the skirt and low cut at the top. She was allowed to wear nothing underneath. In fact, I had disposed of all her bras and undergarments at the beginning of her training, and given away most of her sweaters, sweatshirts, jeans and shorts. The dresses and tops remaining were of a thin enough material to cling to her body and accent the hard points of her nipples. Her mother became obsessed with the risque nature of her attire within five minutes of her first visit.

"Aren't you embarrassed to go around dressed like that. And my God! No underwear! People will take you for a slut! Didn't I raise you better than that? Where did you pick up such trashy habits?"

"I dress like this because Daniel likes me to dress like this and I don't care what anyone else thinks. I dress to please Daniel. If others don't like it, they don't have to look."

"But people do look. You should have more self-respect."

"Panties give you self-respect?"

"Dressing like a whore and flashing your privates in public is not something nice girls do. It's indecent!"

"If you don't think I'm nice enough or decent enough to be around, you don't have to stay here."

"It's not what I think. I'm your mother. It's what other people will think of you. Do you want people to think you have no morals, that you're just a cheap strumpet?"

"As far as I'm concerned, morals are how you treat other people, not what you wear under your clothes."

"Does your . . . boyfriend . . . really want all his professional associates and friends to think he's living with a slut?"

And so it went. It was a painful burden of maternal criticism for anna to bear and she grew weary of it quickly.

Another consequence of those visits was that anna could not be allowed to take for granted the privileges she was granted while her parents were in the house lest she come to think of their presence as a reprieve from her duties as a slave. I therefore instituted certain offsetting punishments.

For the privilege of eating at the table she was required each night at bedtime to stuff a sock in her mouth, bend over and receive three strokes of the cane for each meal. She decided to skip lunches.

For the privilege of closing the bathroom door while I was in the house, two more strokes for each time she did so. She learned to hold her bladder quite well and to keep a basin under the bed.

For the privilege of wearing clothes all day, she was required to sleep nude on the bare floor at night. No pillow, no blanket. Just the hardwood floor and her chains.

Her increasingly sore bottom and uncomfortable nights were strong incentives for anna to discourage her parents' desire to come visit. As a bonus, every time she succeeded in deflecting a visit or cutting one short, I rewarded her with a week of dining at the table and sleeping in my bed. During that week I also restricted play scenes in the dungeon to light floggings, the kind that always turned her on.

But visitations were not the only times anna's mother tried to undo those practices of anna she did not agree with or understand. Another thing that annoyed her was that anna refused to answer the telephone, letting the machine take the message and leaving all the callbacks for me to do. Obviously, anna could not explain that she was simply carrying out a standing order from me because that would have made no sense at all to her strong-willed mother. Why would anna allow herself to be bullied into abiding by such an apparently nonsensical rule? It drove her crazy to see anna ignoring all phone calls except those from me, especially when the caller was asking specifically for anna. It drove her even crazier when she herself called to talk to anna and could only reach the machine. She knew anna was there in the house and was not picking up. One day she decided to trick anna into answering the phone by shouting a message that her father had had an accident. Naturally, anna, assuming the worst, grabbed up the phone. The "accident" turned out to be a knife cut he sustained while peeling an apple.

Upset at having been duped by her own mother but aware that I monitor every phone conversation, anna confessed her error at the evening's debriefing.

"What did you do about it?" I asked her.

"I was furious!" she answered with some heat. "I told her never, ever to call me again for any reason. If there's a real crisis, she's to call you at your office because I won't believe anything she says on the answering machine ever again! I hope that was the right thing to say, Master. I don't want to have her bothering you there, but I didn't know what else to say."

"That was fine. If she calls me there and it's not an emergency, I will make sure she never does it again. You understand, however, that you did disobey a direct order. There is no provision in that order that allows you to answer the phone for any reason, only if the call is from me."

"Yes, Master. I disobeyed. I'm sorry." Her voice was getting smaller.

"Do you agree that you deserve to be punished for that infraction?"

She gave a little resigned sigh. "Yes, Sir."

"Do you agree that because you were the victim of your mother's deceit and you were understandable upset about your father, the punishment should be less than severe?"

Her eyes brightened. "Yes, Master! That would be most kind of you, Master. I really did think he'd been seriously hurt. I forgot myself. I won't do it again! I promise."

"I'm going to divide your punishment in two parts, anna. The first will be ten lashes with the single-tail whip tonight in the dungeon. Five to your back and five to your front. The second phase of the punishment will take place tomorrow. You will spend the day, a full twelve hours, restrained with a special iron bar shackle. Do you agree that these are appropriate punishments?"

anna was very familiar with the single-tail whip and knew the pain it delivered could vary from minuscule to unbearable. She had never seen the iron bar restraint but undoubtedly thought it the lesser of the two threats. She also knew better than disagree. She had tried that once and regretted it. She answered wisely.

"Yes, Master. If it pleases you, please punish me in whatever way you think I deserve."

I sat and stared at her in silence for a while, making her more tense. She was so beautiful in her vulnerability! It was amusing watching her attempts to appear calm while anticipation of the whipping and the unknown misery to follow was obviously making her stomach churn. The single-tail whip, which anna calls a bull whip, is a vicious number that can caress with a teasing lick or sear like red hot barbed wire. It could produce a nervous sigh or a scream of intense agony. She would, of course, have no influence over how I chose to use it and no way to escape its fearsome touch. I always restrained her well when I used the singletail.

When I had decided she was sufficiently keyed up, I led her down to the dungeon, locked her wrist cuffs to a small block and tackle and hoisted her up until her feet cleared the floor. I bound her ankles and knees together to make her feel a little more helpless. I regretted having to hurt her for her mother's perfidy (how else would a loving daughter respond to such an announcement?), so I prefaced the punishment by first kissing her on each nipple and then her mouth, whispering in her ear that I loved her. She nodded and looked at me with heartbreaking sadness. Then I stood to one side to deliver the five lashes to her back and bottom. She took them well, only gasping a little with each stroke. I rotated her a hundred and eighty degrees and gave her five more on her breasts and belly. She was weeping a little at the end, but had managed to avoid screaming. It had only been a moderate whipping, raising ten bright red stripes but no serious welts. Still, the kiss of the bull whip is never negligible. When I had taken her down and freed her from her bonds, I gathered her in my arms and kissed her again. She smiled up at me through her tears so lovingly that I could not resist bending her face-down over a stool to relieve my hardened condition.

I located the iron bar shackle I had promised and gave it to anna to carry up to the bedroom. Its function was clear enough and this gave her time to contemplate the ordeal ahead of her. The bar was about a yard long with short, humped iron strips bolted to each end and another two equally spaced along the bar. The humps in the strips were designed to trap wrists and ankles against the bar. We stopped at the bathroom where I allowed her to slake the thirst developed by the whipping. She consumed a full glass of water, giving no thought to future consequences.

Once in the bedroom, I ordered her to sit on the floor while I secured her ankles in the outside clamps and her wrists to the inside clamps, tightening the nuts on the bolts with my fingers. This left her doubled over, her hands and feet hanging over the outer edge of the bar. She remained there on the floor through the night, chained to the bed as usual but forced into a grotesque fetal position by the bar. She tried in vain to find a tolerable position for sleeping and when her groaning disturbed my own sleep, I stuffed a sock in her mouth and buckled a leather strap in place to hold it there.

In the morning anna was tipped on her side and still whimpering through her soaked gag, but I left her there as I went about making my own breakfast. I called Jason Moore, one of the guests at the Collaring Ceremony and asked if he could spare mya, one of his two slaves, to come over and keep an eye on her while I was at work. mya was a sturdy girl, about five foot ten, who doubled as a Domme in some of his scenes and with his more submissive slave, oriana. I wanted her as a kind of baby sitter who could pick anna up and carry her out of the house in an emergency. (It wouldn't do, in the event of a fire, to have my live-in lover found in the ashes shackled to an iron bar.) Jason readily agreed, with the understanding that I would loan anna to him on some future occasion to satisfy his own purposes. mya arrived just before I left for the office and I instructed her that she was not to help anna or talk to her. She was there only to prevent any disasters. anna would likely sense her presence, but she was not to have the comfort of communication or aid. mya nodded and beamed with an evil smile. She was a striking woman. I decided I would make further use of her later, before returning her to Jason. Why not? It was only fair. He would get plenty of milage out of anna when it was time to return the favor.

 

anna's journal. June 17

Oh God! my mother really did it this time! Got me in deep shit! i love Mom and Dad but it's gotten to the point where i wish they wouldn't come here any more. Or maybe just for one day at a time.

At first it was just ragging on me for my clothes. Shit, if she knew i normally spend all day every day in the nude, she'd really blow a gasket! It was the lack of panties that really got to her, though. And i'd hoped she wouldn't notice!

"How can you go around like that?" she kept asking. "Don't you have any shame?"

"Mom," i told her, "women went around without underwear for millennia! What's the big deal? Historically speaking, bras and panties are a very recent affectation."

"It's disgusting! I thought I raised you proper."

"There's no law that says you have to wear panties."

"But civilized people DO! Every time you sit down you put your private parts on display!"

"Oh nonsense. I always keep my knees together in public."

"What if the wind should blow that skimpy skirt up?"

"So someone would get a cheap thrill. So what?"

"It's indecent! Don't you care about your reputation!"

"i only care about what Daniel thinks of me, and He prefers me to dress this way. He says it's healthier to let the air get to my genitals, and He's a doctor. Do you know i haven't had a yeast infection since He threw away my panties? You should try it."

"I have more self respect! Look at you! your nipples are almost visible through that flimsy material. you should be embarrassed!"

"Why should i be embarrassed? i'm a woman and women have nipples. Besides, you can't see them. You can only see the impression of them. If someone can't deal with that much reality, they should avert their eyes."

"You're going to make yourself a laughingstock, a social pariah. If you dress like a slut, people will treat you like a slut. You won't be welcome in decent society."

"So far, i'm more than welcome everywhere i want to be welcome."

"How can you stand to look at yourself in a mirror, dressed so cheap?"

"Cheap? This dress is far from cheap! Do you have any idea how much Daniel spends on my wardrobe?"

"I don't care what it costs. It's cheap. Don't you ever notice how people look at you in the stores, with your high heels and your lewd dresses half way up to your crotch and your boobs hanging half out? You look like you belong on a street corner leaning on a lamp post."

Etc. Etc. But that stuff i can deal with. She's been complaining about my clothes since i entered puberty. Now, at least, i can pass part of the blame for my "bad taste" on to Master. But the thing that really brought the shit in contact with the fan was the matter of my not answering the phone. Oh my God! It drives her nuts that i'll pick it up only if Master is calling. It especially fries her when she's the one calling. She knows i'm here most of the time, but even when she identifies herself through the machine i don't pick up. i can't. Master has absolutely forbidden it. That cuts no ice with her, of course.

So yesterday she decided to trick me into answering by saying my father had had an accident. Gullible me, i disobeyed Master and picked up. Turns out Dad had cut his finger on a knife. What a bitchy thing for Mom to do! Naturally, i had to confess it to Master and suffer the consequences. i deserved the punishment, of course, but oh God! It was dreadful!

It began with a whipping. Ten strokes with the bull whip while i hung from the ceiling like a side of beef. i really hate the bull whip, but i managed not to scream. Thankfully, Master didn't hit me terribly hard with it, and He was very sweet afterward, wiping away my tears with his finger and telling me He loved me. He even bent me over a stool and fucked me.

But the second part of the punishment was much worse! There's this thing he calls a bar shackle. It's a heavy iron bar a couple of feet long with four iron cuffs that bolt on to it. He made me carry it upstairs to the bedroom, like Christ carrying his cross. He clamped my ankles and wrists to it so that my legs were spread the width of the bar and my hands were about eight inches apart in the middle. There was no padding on it; just cold, hard iron. i was sitting on the floor beside the bed, chained to it as usual, although i don't know where he thought i could have gone doubled over like that with my elbows between my knees. And this is how i was going the spend the next twelve hours!

After about half an hour my shoulders ached, my wrists and ankles were sore and my bum was burning where i was sitting on the stripes made by the bullwhip. i flopped over on my right side so i could at least rest my head on the floor, but the awkward, hunched-over position with my left foot in the air soon created a whole new aggregation of pains. Within an hour i was so miserable i began to make little groaning sounds despite my efforts not to. i knew it would wake Master up, and it did. Soon there was a sock strapped into my mouth. Now, in addition to the wretchedness of my twisted body, i couldn't swallow properly and was drooling on the floor. All night long i kept flopping from one side to a sitting position, then to the other side, trying to shift the focus of pain, trying to make my overall suffering more bearable.

In the morning Master ignored me, making his own breakfast and leaving the house while i continued to languish on the floor cuffed to the iron bar, crying at the prospect of spending the entire morning with no relief from the growing agony! On top of my other miseries, my bladder had begun to demand emptying. i had drunk a full glass of water last night to offset the dehydration that happens leading up to and during a whipping. The fear and the pain make me perspire like a blacksmith. By about three o'clock in the morning i already had to go the bathroom, but, of course, could not. By seven-thirty my teeth were chattering from the pressure. By ten o'clock i was whimpering and rocking on my bottom trying to hold it in. When would the twelve hours be up? My wrists and ankles were raw; my back, shoulders and neck on fire. i couldn't remember when the twelve hour count had started. Ten-thirty? Eleven?

It was about then — around ten — that i heard someone moving stealthily behind me. Master never does that! My heart stopped for a beat, then began pounding furiously as fear unleashed a torrent of adrenalin. Whoever it was and whatever he had in mind, i was totally at his mercy. i tried to look over my shoulder, an automatic if useless reaction, but my over-stressed muscles wouldn't cooperate. A hand was placed on my shoulder. i guess i tried to scream because a strangled, squeaky noise emerged from behind the wet mass filling my mouth, and i tipped over in a panicky evasive action. Lying on my side i could now recognize my "assailant." It was mya, one of Master Jason's slaves.

She just stood there smiling down at my panic, the twit! Desperate to have her remove the gag so i could explain the imminent explosion of my bladder, i made burbling noises and wiggled furiously in my restraints. Her smile broadened, but her eyes hardened. She tipped me back up on my ass and pressed a hand on my tummy, raising her eyebrows in a question mark. "Hmmpph, hmmph, hummph!" I said, nodding vigorously, even as the added pressure forced a trickle of pee past my straining sphincter. She nodded back, turned and strolled out of the room. i rocked in place for an eternity, weeping in frustration, waiting for her to return, holding back the tide. Why hadn't she simply picked me up and put me on the potty? She's a big, strong girl! Works out every day! She could easily have lifted me and my iron bar! A few minutes later mya sauntered back in with a sauce pan sloshing with water and placed it under my right hand where it projected through the iron restraint. Still wearing that malicious grin, she started cupping handfuls of warm water over my hand. It was diabolical and broke the remnants of my will. Within seconds the sphincter gave way and the contents of my distressed bladder gushed all over the floor. I closed my eyes, unable to bear the sight of her laughing at my humiliation.

i sat weeping in my own pee for another half hour until my Master came home and released me. He and mya hosed me down and massaged my badly stressed body until i could walk and move normally again. Then Master made me clean up the mess i had made on the bedroom floor.

my reward for enduring all that, though, was lovely. Master set up a three-way on the bed with mya squatting over His face so he could eat her while she sucked on my breasts and I rode his staff. Then mya and i traded places for a while and i got to be eaten by Master. That felt so good it was hard to remember i was supposed to be nursing on mya's gorgeous globes. Finally, He put mya on her back with me on top heading in opposite directions so that my tits were over her mouth and her tits jutted up into my mouth. To make it more interesting, he had us stretch out our arms and strapped hers to mine. Then while mya and i suckled each other, Master took turns fucking first me, then her. i think i came four or five times before He separated mya and me so he could ejaculate in her mouth. He ordered her not to swallow it, but to transfer it to my mouth so I could swallow it. That was a new experience! But the best thing is, Master let me sleep in his bed and make love to him every night for a week.

As i look back on what i've just written, i confess i don't understand why i ever agreed to put up with such horrendous suffering or why it always arouses me. Yet i thrill with the fear and anticipation of it, and when it's over, i revel in the memory of it and ache for more. And playtime tortures, bad as they can be, are never enough. Somehow i always find a way to get in real trouble so Master has to punish me again. Severely.

Chapter 9

I have to admit, I was a bit worried that I had overdone it, testing anna so harshly when she had only been in slavery for a few months. But she took it remarkably well and recovered quickly from what had to be a horrible ordeal: twelve hours locked in a position that was uncomfortable at the beginning and grew more so by the minute. She must have attempted a good deal of maneuvering to relieve the agony because her wrists and ankles were badly chafed by the heavy iron cuffs. I had considered simply tying her up and leaving her in a small cage, but she looked so irresistibly helpless clamped hand and foot to that black iron bar that I yielded to my meaner impulse. mya's improvisation at the end, making anna disgrace herself on the floor, was a nice added humiliation. mya really enjoys switching to the role of Domme when she has a juicy slave like anna to play with.

Training did not stop when anna signed the slavery contract. It's an ongoing process. A slave will slide back into old habits and attitudes if not constantly reminded of her proper place and the need for total service and obedience. For this reason I was diligent about trying to make a clear distinction between play and punishment. If I whipped her for the fun of it, each blow would make her tense up and gasp. Pink stripes would emerge to mark where the tail of the whip landed. A session with the multi-tailed flogger would color her whole body crimson and leave her shining with perspiration from her physical reactions to the many blows. But if I whipped her as punishment, the level of pain was such that she would scream and cry and sometimes pass out. The marks of the singletail would be bright red and swollen, her body covered with a mass of welts, some of them bleeding. The effects of the cane were similar; a light caning left angry red lines across her bottom. A heavy caning left swollen purple wheals. When she was whipped or caned, the contrast between play and punishment was perfectly clear.

Restraints were another matter. I didn't always restrain her for punishment. As often as not I made her stand with her hands high over her head, or bent over a table grasping the far edge, counting the blows, thanking me for each one. She could have run from the room on those occasions and saved herself from a terrible ordeal. But she knew she would be thrown out on her ass for breaching her contract, so she never did. She cherished her role as a slave. She cherished my love. She was determined to bear whatever I could dish out, up to and including death, to make good her vow to serve me and obey. But what of those times when, as with the iron bar shackle, her punishment involved the application of painful restraints over a long period of time? Ah, that was a trickier matter, because the whole essence of restraining a submissive in play is to prolong the discomfort and pain long enough to satisfy her need to suffer, but not so long as to discourage her from future play.

So. I had to tread a thin line. I loved to put her in bondage, to find new ways to tie her up, to see her in chains or locked in irons or wooden stocks. She loved it, too. During our periods of free talk when she could say whatever she wanted without fear of punishment, she admitted that the thought of being tightly restrained and helpless always made her wet. She begged me not to heed her when she pleaded for mercy, but to do with her whatever pleased me because in the end, no matter how desperately she suffered, what she wanted was for me to push her to the far extremes of her limits, and beyond.

God! How I loved her!

Summer was coming quickly to an end, but quixotic Mother Nature gave us one last hot September weekend, a meteorologically illicit chance to enjoy New England as though it were Virginia. A colleague of mine and a fellow member of the Iron Collar Club, Dr. Jacob Lorenz, owned an extravagant yacht moored at Marblehead. Jake invited me, along with anna, to join him, his wife and a few friends from the Club on a cruise, with a stopover at a remote island beach. The other "friends" turned out to be Dr. Jonathan Howells, an obstetrician in his own medical group, Eric Decker, a senior manager from a national trucking company, and their wives, Kelly and Tori. Dr. Lorenz, whom I knew as Jake, had a contract slave relationship with his wife, julie, but the other two couples only played at bdsm as Tops and bottoms. Jake and I had discussed what sort of entertainment we would enjoy on the trip, but the others were only aware that it would be of an erotic nature, befitting our mutual interests. Jake's contract with julie was loaded with the usual caveats limiting the types of torment to which she could be subjected. Kelly and Tori were open minded and playful, but they were wives first and submissives only when they felt like playing. I was the only one of the group free to treat my submissive entirely as I pleased. This meant that anna would provide the initial spectacle, joined later by julie. If all went well, Kelly and Tori would soon be in the mood.

Jake's boat was called the "Titipoo," either a reference to the fictitious Japanese village in Gilbert and Sullivan's Mikado or to his well endowed slave-wife. Probably both. We boarded the Titipoo early in the morning as the young sun rose over the Atlantic unimpeded by clouds. A gentle wind blowing out of the south added to the day's promising perfection. We loaded the stern and cabin with the inevitable bank of coolers filled with liquid necessities, and added a large trunk that was filled with the equipment that would make this excursion memorable.

This would be anna's first cruise on a luxury yacht and she was bursting with excitement, in spite of being warned that she would be the main object of display and sadistic play. Or maybe because of that. I had dressed her in one of the simple sleeveless sundresses that had become her signature public attire. The silky thin material and bright floral pattern demanded attention, clinging seductively to every sensual nuance of her body, adhering to the jutting points of nipples hardened by the cool harbor breeze and insinuating obscenely into the clefts between her legs. High heels would have looked ludicrous in this context, so I made her remain barefoot and enjoyed watching her cringe as the many pebbles on the tarmac stabbed into her tender feet during the long walk between the car and the dock. It was amusing to observe the intense interest she drew from the men we passed. Julie, Tori and Kelly, although sexy and attractive in their shorts, halter tops and sandals, were no match for my lovely anna who may as well have been naked for the degree of concealment afforded by that wonderfully indecent frock.

Her months of living totally in the nude had changed anna's attitude about clothing. She no longer cared what she wore or how much of her body people could see as long as I was happy with the effect. She would feel as comfortable wearing cheesecloth in public as denim if I ordered it. Naked had become so normal for her that she often forgot to put on her robe when UPS stopped by for a delivery. In fact, I believe she had begun to enjoy the reaction of the drivers, which ranged from dropped jaws to finding ways to protract the ritual of signing the electronic slate. Sometimes the bolder ones indicated a willingness to be invited in, no doubt ready to offer relief to this wantonly horny housewife. But she always turned them away, whether from obedience, from choice, or from awareness of the watching camera I cannot say. Doesn't matter. I had it in mind that soon I would take advantage of that particular predilection of hers for my own entertainment.

Except for the few items I had allowed her to keep from before that first day of her slave training, all anna's clothing, her entire wardrobe, had been personally selected by me. It was actually a delight to take her shopping, quite unlike the dreadful ordeals I had endured with my ex-wife. There was no hanging around waiting for her to try on endless articles to find the perfect fit and the exactly right look. I marched her into a store, pointed out the items that appealed to me, accompanied her into the dressing room to make sure she didn't dawdle, and made instant decisions. Actually, this process of dressing anna to suit myself gave me an understanding of the pleasure little girls must feel playing with dolls and changing their costumes. In a sense, anna was my very own doll, a living manikin whose firm, sculpted figure and soft, opalescent skin breathed a sexuality that invariably stirred my loins. her body cried out to be played with, and dressing her in provocative, barely legal outfits was great fun. The key, as I say, is never to ask her what pleases her or try to second guess her tastes. Women's tastes are impossibly complex, and since only my opinion counts, hers would only get in the way.

The first time we went on a shopping trip I had warned her not to say a word. She obeyed but registered her disapproval of some of my selections by rolling her eyes. When she learned that each eye roll would earn her two hard strokes of the cane, she quickly abandoned that practice, since she fears the cane almost as much as the singletail. Now she's more subtle about letting me know that she likes a particular item. She will touch it or caress it or hug it to her and smile hopefully up at me. If I like it, I'll buy it for her. If I don't, I pretend to ignore her. Nowadays she limits her display of disappointment to putting on a sad face and staring at the floor. That's perfectly acceptable. In fact, it turns me on, the way hog-tying her on a table when we throw a party turns me on. And I confess, I've been known to surprise her by buying the damned thing on the next trip just to enjoy the radiance of her happiness.

As soon as all our paraphernalia was stowed aboard the yacht, I clipped a chain leash to anna's collar, led her up on the bridge, stripped off her dress and attached her to a vertical roof support. I strapped leather cuffs to her wrists and locked her hands behind her so she couldn't mess with the short chain holding her neck to the support. Jake started up the engines while I went below to retrieve some ropes from the trunk. The boat was sliding backwards away from the dock as I returned to the bridge. Half a dozen men on adjacent yachts were frozen in place, staring at anna's naked breasts. she made no attempt to duck their astonishment but stood proudly, as though daring them to come over for a closer look. Kelly, Julie and Tori huddled in the stern taking it all in, their nervous giggles betraying ambivalent feelings about what we might have in store for them as this unusual cruise unfolded.

All four females watched me intently as I threaded ropes through pulleys on the back outside corners of the bridge roof. Jake had not quite maneuvered us to the mouth of the harbor when I detached anna from the roof support and led her to the rear edge of the bridge where I disconnected the leather cuffs from each other, secured them to the ropes and hauled her arms out and up, forming her into a stunningly nude Y. The view of her from other boats when she was standing in the bridge cabin had been from the waist up, a teasing preview. Now her entire body was gloriously on view to anyone in the harbor who happened to glance at the departing Titipoo .

As we slipped into the open ocean, it was time for the other females to start contributing to the decor. I took over the helm, steering us on a course parallel with the shore and close enough so that anyone with good eyesight could see there was something interesting going on aboard and anyone with a pair of binoculars would have a real treat. Jon and Eric sent their girls to the galley to prepare drinks for the men while Jake ordered his wife — slave julie — to strip. He handed a bottle of sun block to Jon and Eric and asked them to apply it to julie while he went below to help himself to some ropes from the trunk. julie closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of four hands spreading lotion over every inch of her body. When they finished, Jake led her up on to the forward deck and had her lie down on her back where he tied her spreadeagled to the rails that ran along the sides of the deck.

Kelly and Tori emerged from below to hand us our drinks. We allowed them a few minutes to admire the new decoration on the deck, then they were also ordered to strip and each was required to spread sun block over the other. Next they were placed back to back straddling the stern gunwale of the boat. Each girl's arms were pulled behind her and cuffed together in front of the other girl so they were locked together in a tight back-to-back embrace. Their inboard ankles were chained together and secured to an eye bolt on the gunwale. Their outboard legs were also chained together and weighted by a heavy anchor that dangled just above the roiling wake of the yacht. They made a pretty picture, and a striking study in opposites. Kelly was tall, about five ten, and classically Nordic — her features strong, her breasts firm and full, her hair a mass of ashy blond curls, so light that her eyebrows all but disappeared as spray from the boat's backwash slowly eroded her makeup. Tori, by contrast, reflected her Tai heritage from her mother's side. She was dark and tiny, not quite five feet, with a wispy body, apple breasts and a delicate, childlike face dominated by huge, hypnotic eyes. A man could easily drown in the liquid brown depths of those eyes. Interlocked spine-to-spine, Kelly's long, pale blond curls tumbling down into Tori's dark chocolate tresses, salt spray glistening on their slim, young bodies, they made a riveting picture. Jake, Jonathan, Eric and I sipped our drinks and admired our handiwork for several minutes as the Titipoo cruised slowly along on autopilot.

"Whadda ya say we adopt a house rule for this party?" Eric said, breaking the spell. "As Doms, we all give blanket permission to each other to play with all the subs, with the usual restrictions, of course, including no depositing our cum in someone else's property, unless it's her ass or mouth."

"Sounds good to me," Jon chipped in. Jake quickly assented.

"But Kelly and Tori aren't slaves," I pointed out to Eric. "Hadn't you and Jonathan better make sure it's okay with them?"

"Sure thing!" said Eric, jumping up and heading for the cabin. He returned with another item from the trunk: a cane. Strolling over to his petite wife, Tori, he tapped it on her breasts. "Whadda say, sweetie? Does that sound like fun to you, that any of the men can do whatever we please with any of the females here?"

Those incredible dark eyes filled with apprehension as his cane taps grew stronger.

"Yes, I agree," she said hastily. "It's a party. Let's not be stuffy!"

Jonathan picked up his cue, taking the cane from Eric he tapped the end of it against Kelly's exposed labia. "How about you, my love. Ready to play with any and all?"

"Whatever you say, Sir," she replied in her smooth alto. Kelly was no novice to wild sexual exploits or multiple partners. I had seen her participate enthusiastically in three earlier gang bangs. Jon's threat with the cane and her submissive response was pure theater. I didn't know Tori as well. Like anna, she appeared to be submissive by nature, but whether she was a true party girl like Kelly or actually intimidated by her husband's threat with the cane was unclear. I would have to watch her carefully to get a better fix. I don't fully trust any seemingly submissive woman who is not a contract slave and I had (and have) no desire to be accused of committing rape.

At any rate, it was time to change the focus. With julie tied up on the forward deck and Tori and Kelly providing living artwork on the stern, it would be inexcusable to ignore the star of the show, still languishing in her wrist restraints on the bridge.

I asked the boys to lather her up with the sunblock while I went back to the trunk where I dug out several yards of rope. Not the soft nylon rope I use for playtime bondage, but the harsh hemp rope whose prickly surface chews into tender flesh like miniaturized barbed wire and leaves raw tracks on the skin long after it is mercifully removed. I released anna from her restraints, unbuckled the leather cuffs and immediately pulled her arms behind her back, lashing them together, forearm to forearm, her hands grasping her elbows. Next I wound ropes around her torso, above and below her breasts, around her waist, her shoulders and upper arms, between her labia and up around her neck. I laid her on her side, bent her legs and tied her calves to her thighs. At this point she could barely move.

One of the features on this yacht was a winch and a yardarm that swung out over the starboard side for the purpose of loading heavy objects on board. Its usual cargo was a pallette laden with food, beer and liquors. Today the cargo would be anna. I secured her harness of ropes to the hook, winched her up to the yardarm and swung her out over the side. There she dangled face down, her body horizontal, suspended in mid-air by hemp robes bound around her knees and upper torso, and biting deeply into the cleft between her legs. The ropes supporting her torso also made loops around her breasts and, tightening now from the weight of her body, turned her tits into purple bulbs. I tied a spreader between her knees to keep her legs spread wide, her sex exposed to the ocean breeze. She began groaning and whining immediately from the extreme discomfort, so I swung her in again, stuffed Tori's panties into her mouth and cinched them in with several windings of rope which I tied off at her feet, drawing her head up and back as far as it would go. Then I swung her back out over the ocean. Tears trickled down her cheeks as her stressed body twisted with the wind and the motion of the boat, but only throaty moans could be heard through the gag.

While I was making these adjustments, another luxury boat, a yawl under full sail, materialized on our starboard side, its crew, three young men, agape at our decorations. We smiled and waved at them.

"It's all right," I called out. "We belong to an S&M club. We do this for fun! Say hello, girls!"

Tori and Kelly dutifully yelled a cheery "Hi, guys!"

"Wanna join us?" Tori added with a brilliant smile. She was the one facing the yawl.

"Shit, yeah!" one of the men responded.

"Hey, great!" Jake called back. What else could he say? "We're heading for Manassas Island. Join us there, if you'd like."

"No prob!" they shouted back as the wind peeled them away from us.

julie had begun to squirm on the forward deck as the sun and salt air heated up her skin. It was time to add another layer of sun block. Kelly and Tori were disentangled from their stern positions and Kelly, who was closer to julie's five foot six, was brought up and told to lie down on top of her, covering her. As she did, her arms and legs were bound to julie's limbs — forearms and upper arms, calves and thighs, with another rope cinched around their waists, leaving them pressed together like a girl-shaped sandwich.

Not to be forgotten, little Tori was led to the port side of the yacht, directly opposite where anna was still swinging freely out over the ocean. Tori's wrists were bound behind her and another rope pulled her elbows together, forcing her to arch her back and thrust her pretty tits outward. She had extraordinary nipples, hard and long, exaggerated by the chilling wind and her nervous excitement. Eric picked her up and placed her on the side rail, holding her there as I tied a rope into her long hair dark hair and secured it to an eyelet in the bridge roof, leaving only a little slack. A sharp pointed rod was positioned behind her that would make it impossible for her to lean back far enough to keep from being constantly thrown forward toward the ocean by the boat's pitching and rolling. Each time her body fell outward she would be yanked back by her hair. If she slipped off the rail, she would hang by her hair until rescued. (As added insurance, a rope was tied from her wrists to a bolt in the gunnel so that her arms would hook over the rail should her hair slip out of the rope.) We watched in satisfaction as she fell forward over and over, yanked short by her hair, her grimaces eventually turning to tears. But she had learned from anna's mistake and didn't complain, thus avoiding the necessity of a gag. She just ground her teeth and bore it. An amazing brave little thing.

The boys in the yawl, meanwhile, had been doing their best to keep up with us, even using their engine to try to offset an uncooperative wind. They were doing a pretty good job of it, too, considering the amount of attention spent on focusing their binoculars. As we veered west, however, making for Manassas, the wind direction put them at a greater disadvantage. Jake and I made broad beckoning motions to them to follow, to let them know they were still invited if they could make it to the island. I had no doubt that they would. Even from a distance of a couple hundred yards the expression on their faces made it obvious they had plenty of motivation.

Chapter 10

As Manassas became visible on the horizon, we gave the girls a reprieve from their decorative duties, letting them huddle together in the cabin to nurse their rope burns and worry about what we had next in mind for them on the island. Normally, anna is forbidden anything alcoholic as part of her regimen to keep trim and healthy. However, she had endured so much already — with more to come — that I let her join the other women in a round of cocktails. The other three are extremely attractive and before the day was over I knew I would be fucking one, two or all three of them; but anna was so much more beautiful as she scrunched in the corner of the bench hugging her knees, her face half hidden behind her golden hair, that I wanted to stretch her out and make love to her then and there. I didn't, of course. It wouldn't do to let her know she has that much of an effect on me.

Manassas is a small, elongated island protruding out of the Atlantic like the top third of a football. To stick with that analogy, it's about two and a half football fields long and one wide. A hardy profusion of pine and oak trees compete for soil on its rocky surface, yielding along most of the island's west side to a stretch of harsh sand licked clean of vegetation by the salt tides. At the height of flood tide the beach mostly disappears under the noisy surf, but we had timed our arrival for when the tide was at its lowest ebb which would give us four or five hours of useable party time on the beach.

The Titipoo is equipped with an inflatable that serves both as a life raft in case of an abandon-ship emergency and as a commuter vessel between the yacht and dry land. Two raft trips were required for the transfer of first the four girls and then the trunk, coolers, and other items Jake and I had brought along for the afternoon's play. To make sure the girls didn't run off between trips, but mostly because it was a turn-on, we handcuffed them to each other in a circle facing outward. Any attempt to hide, aside from being futile, would have been entertaining to watch, but they merely meandered a bit, giggling, to indulge their curiosity. From where the boat was anchored off shore, they looked like a drunken pink spider groping its way gingerly over the pebbly sand.

Once everything we needed for the party was on the beach, including a firepot and charcoal to cook our hot dogs, I removed one pair of handcuffs from the quartet of girls so they could switch to an inward facing arc. Their assignment was to set up the firepot, fill it with charcoal and prepare our lunch. All while still cuffed together. Clearly, this would require a superlatively cooperative effort; predictably, they were soon bickering amongst themselves over what to do first and who would do it and how. At Jake's suggestion we cured that noise and made their task the more challenging by forcing ball gags into their mouths and strapping them tightly into place. To give them incentive, we each selected an appropriately encouraging device from the trunk. Eric, the most kind-hearted of our group, chose the flogger. Jonathan, whose huge six foot five frame made him the scariest of disciplinarians, selected a leather belt. Jake decided on the dreaded cane and I picked up the singletail. I love to dole out punishment with any of these instruments, but the sound of the whip ripping through the air on the way to its target is especially terrifying, and the crack of its landing always evokes a satisfying response. The cane delivers a brutal, blossoming pain that submissives truly and rightly fear, but the whip can be used safely over more of the body and its bite is instant. The girls were soon working hard at trying to function as a team, jerking at each other's wrists, shouting incoherently through their gags, crying and whimpering as blows landed on their bare bottoms, backs and thighs. Their chins and breasts were wet with drool and Kelly's cheeks were streaked with mascara from her weeping. She was Jake's favorite target for the cane. As the tallest of the four women, she had assumed a leadership role, but her bossiness had only inspired resentment and resistance. Now, with six purple and red welts swelling angrily on her ass and tears dripping off her chin, she had given up all attempts to control the little chain gang.

While all this was going on, the yawl finally caught up with us and dropped anchor a hundred feet farther out than the Titipoo , no doubt in deference to its keel. Its horny crew of three wasted no time rowing themselves to shore in a dingy to join our festivities. They managed to pry their eyes away from the scurrying chain of nude women long enough to introduce themselves to the men. They identified themselves as Mark, Lance and Russ, third year students from Boston University out for a Sunday sail on Mark's boat. Or rather, his father's boat. In their wildest dreams they had never imagined stumbling across their present good fortune! When we explained that this was a bdsm outing and that the four females in our group were slaves and submissives who did not rate inclusion in the introductions, they instantly accepted the spirit of the thing. When we further pointed out that their sole function on this occasion was to provide pleasure to the males in whatever ways we demanded, you could almost hear the hormones rushing through their blood. They didn't need to be summa cum laude to figure out the full implications of their luck.

The seven men in our expanded group perched on a group of boulders at the edge of the beach while the women served us. Still handcuffed together and gagged, they had improved their ability to coordinate their movements and purpose, but nevertheless made an amusingly awkward human centipede as they brought us our beer and hot dogs. Their only rest came when they were required to kneel down before us to watch as we ate. After I had finished, finding myself in a beneficent mood, I fetched a newspaper from the trunk, spread it on the ground in front of the girls, pinned its corners with rocks and dumped the left over frankfurters and buns on it. I also emptied out the relish and mustard into two small heaps. Then I disconnected each girl from her neighbor, removed her gag and cuffed her hands behind her back.

"You may eat your lunch, now," I told them blandly.

They all looked at me balefully, but knew it was this way or starve. So they bent down and began dragging frankfurters and buns to a spot on the newspaper where they could deal with them. anna, who had the most experience eating from a bowl or off the floor with no hands, easily dragged her hot dog through the relish and mustard with her teeth and even managed to get it into a bun, pushing it into the split with her nose. By laying one cheek on the newspaper, she was able to chew her way from one end of the assembled frankfurter to the other. Jake's slave, julie, watched anna and tried to emulate her technique. She did well with the condiments but couldn't force the dog into the bun, which kept falling over and sliding around. Finally she settled for alternating bites between the hot dog and the bun. Kelly and Tori were far clumsier and ended up with their faces plastered with mustard and relish. Each used the other's cushiony breasts to rub it off.

Eric, meanwhile, found a salad bowl, poured two cans of beer in it and placed it on the sand. "If you slaves want something to drink before the games begin," he announced, "this is it. This is all the liquid refreshment there will be for you till we're back home."

By now, after sweating out their onboard decorative duties in the sun, followed by their stints as cooks and servers, the women had worked up a fierce thirst. They could not help but notice that the quantity of beer being offered was seriously insufficient for the four of them, nor was the bowl large enough for more than two heads at once. Kelly and anna were the first to climb to their feet and make a dash for it, dropping to their knees side by side and crowding their faces into the bowl. We could hear them lapping at the beer as they jostled each other for better access to the rapidly dropping supply. The side of the bowl slanted inward, cone-like, so that soon only one tongue would be able to reach the precious liquid, and only by crowding out the other. Tori and julie, meanwhile, were becoming alarmed at the prospect of being shut out and began shouting at them to be allowed a turn. When that failed, they kicked at them, then fell to their knees and used their elbows and shoulders to force their heads out of the bowl. Unfortunately, the violent movement knocked over the bowl and the remaining liquid spilled into the sand. All four girls emitted howls of anguish and Tori burst into tears, pitching forward into the sand, her dark hair hiding her face as her body shook with sobs. anna, probably feeling guilty, slithered over to her, nuzzled into the hair and whispered something in her ear. An apology, I would hope. Although inwardly I was proud that anna had the wits to assess the situation fast enough to get to the bowl first, or at least in a dead heat with the audacious Kelly.

It had all been great fun to watch, but it was time to get to the interactive entertainment. I addressed the three college boys.

"Gentlemen. Consult among each other and select one of our four lovely females to be given the role of fuck fruit."

They had no idea what that meant, but their sudden smiles and the bright gleam in their eyes indicated a willingness to find out. Mark, the tallest of the group, probably about six two, with a dirty blond crew cut and lanky body, took the initiative and pointed to Kelly. Apparently he liked her brazen blond beauty. "That one!"

"Very well." I unlocked her handcuffs, fished in the trunk and pulled out a collar and leash. "Put this on her and bring her over to that tree." I pointed out an oak with a thick branch reaching out toward the sun of the open beach. "Make her stay on her hands and knees and follow you like a dog." I found a riding crop and handed it to him. "If she dawdles, or if she displeases you in any way, use this."

He caught on quickly, demanding she hurry over the painfully sharp pebbles in the course sand, stinging her rump with the crop to speed her progress. With help from Mark and his friends, we soon had Kelly's wrists bound to her ankles and tied to a rope thrown over the limb of the oak. With a groan she felt herself hoisted into the air, suspended like a flesh-colored pear about three feet off the ground, her sex available to anyone hard enough to mount an invasion. Without question Mark was hard enough, but I suggested he warm her up first with the crop while I fetched a condom. By the time I arrived back with the condom and anna in tow, Kelly was begging through her tears for the whipping to stop. anna removed Mark's shorts with efficiency and deftly smoothed the condom onto his penis with her mouth. In another moment both he and Kelly were moaning with the powerful thrusts of his youthful manhood. I could see the creamy color of her juices flowing around his root even before his own orgasm.

I left Mark to play with Kelly and returned to the beach to set up another amusement. I noticed Eric was pushing off in the raft and Jake explained that he'd come up with an idea requiring a deck chair from the yacht. Enlisting the aid of Mark's two horny friends, Lance and Russ (but mostly to keep them from spending themselves too soon with the already available Kelly), I fished a set of 2-inch steel pipes from the trunk and we bolted them together into a 6x4 foot rectangle which we lay down on the sand. I handed Lance the collar and leash that had recently adorned Kelly and he selected Tori as its next recipient. She was led on hands and knees to our construction site and I instructed the boys to spreadeagle her on her back inside the rectangle and hold her while I tied her wrists and ankles to the corners. Lance, with first dibs on our prey, fairly trembled with enthusiasm. Tori, increasingly aware of her thirst, kept swallowing and licking her lips. When we picked up the steel framework and began carrying her stretched body toward the sea, her eyes filled with fear and she stopped licking.

"What are you going to do?" she cried.

"You want water?" I said in my most logical tone. "We're going to give you access to water, although I wouldn't advise drinking it."

"No, wait!" she screeched in alarm.

"Tori, Tori," I soothed. "You don't want to be gagged, do you?"

That shut her up, but she was now fighting the ropes, her body wriggling most enticingly. On my instructions we carried the frame and it's helpless passenger to the edge of the surf and put them down on the wet sand with Tori's feet toward the ocean. We waited for the next wave to roll in and positioned her so that the water level at its deepest came up to the level of her mouth. With the tide coming in, she would soon have to raise her head to keep above water. And then it would get worse. She looked up at me, eyes filled with dread, imploring mercy.

"Don't worry, little slave," I said. "Lance here will keep an eye on you. Just don't let him get bored and wander off." I winked at Lance and handed him a condom. "You may want to play with her while you're here," I suggested. "She seems to be amenable to your attentions. Feel free. In fact, I suspect that in another fifteen or twenty minutes she'll be willing to do absolutely anything to get out of her current predicament. So pace yourself. Understand?"

"Oh yeah," he said, his voice bristling with young lust. He was a little shorter than I am, maybe five eight, with a stocky, muscular body covered with blond fur and topped by a baby face and swirls of bright yellow hair. He took off his shorts and tossed them just out of reach of the inbound waves, revealing impressive equipment already fully engorged.

Eric had arrived back in the raft with a deck chair. He went over to admire his wife's quandary. As the next wave rolled in over her face and slipped back, she was left sputtering, spitting and thrashing uselessly against the ropes. Her big brown lamb's eyes failed to elicit mercy from her husband, however. He nodded his approval, made sure Lance had a condom and returned to discuss the purpose of the chair. (We did, of course, keep a close eye on Tori. Terror was a deliberate element in her ordeal, but she was in no real danger of drowning.)

We let Russ choose the victim for the chair project. His dark chocolate skin and shaved head were about as much of a contrast with his two BU buddies as could be imagined. He was already naked and his bull-sized cock was dripping saliva from the two remaining subs, julie and anna, who had been servicing him alternately from their kneeling position next to the trunk. He tapped julie on the head and ordered her to approach the chair doggie style as the others had done, not bothering with the collar and leash, but whipping her bottom with the riding crop to lessen her concern with pain from the sharp pebbles on the beach. Russ, it seemed, caught on quickly to the art of dealing with slaves.

julie was placed in the chair and told to fold her hands. They were then taped together so that she could not unlock her fingers. Her hands were raised over her head and placed behind her neck where they were bound into place with many windings of rope around her wrists and throat. Her body was pulled forward so that her ass was at the edge of the seat and secured in that position by ropes around her shoulders and upper thighs, binding her to the chair. Ropes were tied from her ankles to stakes driven into the sand about six feet apart. Another stake was driven into the ground behind her and a third rope tied her hair to it. The chair was then tilted back on its rear legs and the ropes to her ankles and hair adjusted to keep it balanced there, her body arched, her feet pulled wide apart, her sex opened for display and elevated for easy entrance. Every movement that destabilized the precarious balance of body and chair yanked at her hair, provoking little yelps of pain. It was a stimulating sight and Russ, already superheated from the oral attentions, pulled on a condom, moved between her legs, seized her by the waist and plugged right in.

Lance had also given way to the demands of his genitals and was thrusting away at the inundated Tori, apparently impervious to the cold surf breaking over them and unconcerned that his partner's head was now under the foaming seawater fifteen or twenty seconds at a time. When he finally climaxed noisily, sighed and rolled off, Eric and I decided it was time to rescue the sputtering, terrified girl.

The pathetic look of gratitude on her face as we lifted her, frame and all, out of the next incoming breaker was almost heart-rending. But although she was no longer in fear of drowning, her ordeal was hardly over. With Lance and Eric holding the frame vertical so that she was standing on the bottom pipe, I untied her wrists from the upper corners, drew her arms behind her back and bound her forearms together so that she was clutching her elbows. Next I looped ropes around her knees and the sides of the frame, drawing her knees outward, spreading her wide until she cringed from the stress on her hips. Securing her in that position, I ran a long rope around her body and upper arms, above and below her breasts, tying it off tightly to each side rail. Another rope was forced through her mouth and around her head several times, then tied off at the side rails, doubling as a head restraint and a gag. The frame was laid backwards onto the sand and stakes driven in above the top rail to keep it from sliding as we lifted the bottom rail and propped it up with a pole. Our exotic little beauty, her brown skin still sparkling with seawater, squirmed enticingly as she struggled to find a tolerable position within her web of ropes. The effect was extremely erotic; thighs splayed apart and body angled upward, her glistening sex was wide open, irresistibly inviting and at a perfect level for entertaining male visitors. Jonathan, eagerly accepting the invitation, had ducked under the frame and was rising like a serpent between her legs as Eric and I moved on to the next project.

Prior to our attendance on Tori, I had handed anna a post-hole digger and ordered her to dig a hole a foot deeper than the length of the handle, a total of about six feet. She was now sweating through the last few feet of her assignment. To inspire her to finish the task with greater alacrity, I fetched the singletail and whipped her with it every seven seconds, helpfully counting down the seconds between blows so she could keep track of her progress. She finished with remarkable speed and only four new red tracks on her back and ass.

As she dug, Jake, at the far end of the beach, had been assembling some four-by-four timbers we had transferred earlier from the boat. A six foot long section, notched in the center, had been fitted into a matching notch about a foot from the top of a sixteen foot section and bolted in place, forming a crucifix. anna, fitted with the collar and leash, now was led the entire length of the beach, crawling on her hands and knees, to where the crucifix awaited her. I didn't hurry her with the crop because I knew the trip back would be much worse for her. When she had reached the cross, Eric and I each took one of her hands, stretched her out and lashed her wrists and upper arms to the crossbar. She knew what would come next. A parody of the biblical scene. She had to drag the heavy wooden cross back to the hole she had dug, only she had to do it on her knees. It took a long time. All seven men were drawn to the spectacle, urging her on with perverse cheers — "C'mon, bitch!" "Move it, slut!" I let them whack her ass a bit with the riding crop and cane, but kept them from overdoing it because she was obviously close to collapse, her knees bloody, her lips trembling, tears leaking from her eyes.

When she had reached her destination, Jake, Mark and I raised the crucifix up and dropped the base into the hole. Jake and Mark held it steady while Lance returned the displaced sand into the hole and tamped it down tightly around the timber with the end of the hole-digger handle. As he worked, I tied a length of rope around anna's left ankle, looped it behind the post and tied the other end to her right ankle. While she couldn't kick out, she could work her feet against the post, which I knew she'd soon be doing. We stood back and admired our handiwork. anna looked relieved to be off her knees which were still trickling blood, but that wouldn't last. The ropes biting into her arms and wrists from the weight of her body would soon create a new focus of pain. Indeed, even as we watched, she began pressing her feet against the outside of the post, trying to push herself up and relieve the strain. She gave herself slight temporary reprieves, but had to spread out her knees to do it, which exposed her pussy nicely. I ran a finger inside the inner labia and noted with satisfaction that this new ordeal with its rapt audience was making her wet.

anna's feet were at about the level of my chest. That left about four feet of usable post below her. No use wasting it. I asked our college friends to take Kelly down — she was still hanging from the tree — and bring her over. Her hands and feet were numb; she could barely walk and had to be helped. Russ and Lance helped support her with one hand and helped themselves to her breasts with the other. She stood docilely in front of the cross as I lashed her right ankle to the base of the cross, spread her legs and staked her left ankle to the sand. Next, I bound her wrists behind her back, looped the rope around her neck and drew her hands up as far as they would go. Then came the worst part. I bent her over almost double so her ears were at the level of her knees and tied her head to the post with several windings of rope that passed through her mouth, much as I had done with Tori. She began groaning immediately. It was an excruciating position, but it presented her ass in the most tempting fashion. In fact, I couldn't resist it. I kicked off my shorts, spit some lubricating saliva into her rosy anus and started pushing my cock deeper and deeper into its warm interior. At the same time, since anna's pretty feet were next to my face, I began sucking on her toes. I would have liked to stretch out that scene for hours, but the tightness of Kelly's back entrance and the sweet succulence of anna's toes was too much for me. Too soon I exploded into Kelly's bowels and my electrified senses drifted back to normal.

With julie spread invitingly wide over her chair, Tori equally appealing and accessible in her frame, and Kelly's ass too delectable to pass up, all seven men had soon added at least one more round of poon to their afternoon's scorecard. Some had already indulged their manhood three times, while Russ, our champion whoremaster so far, had managed four. At this point only one of our four females had not yet had her pussy put into service. That would have to be corrected. I consulted with Jake and we decided on a course of action that would give anna her due.

The other three girls were released from their restraints and given permission to roam around the beach area so they could recover from their ordeals and regain the full use of their limbs. The cross from which anna hung was uprooted and laid flat on the sand with anna on top. I removed the rope holding her feet to the post, bent her knees, spread her legs and bound her ankles to stakes driven into the sand. her labia were red and sensitive from the abuse the boys had given her cunt, slapping at it with the crop and the flogger as she hung on the crucifix. We ordered Tori and julie to approach and assume the kneel-up position. Neither girl had yet been allowed to slake her thirst and Tori appeared close to serious dehydration, so we made them an offer they couldn't refuse. If Tori could make anna cum, she could have water. If julie could arouse one of the men back to potency and get him to fuck anna until she came, julie would also be given water. The desperate girls set to work at once.

Tori began by positioning her body over anna's, on her hands and knees, and gently swaying from side to side to let their lips, nipples and bellies lightly brush each other. Then she let her tongue caress anna's lips. Backing slowly downward, she let her tongue trace spiraling circles over anna's chin, down her throat and over to one breast, then the other. She paused at each breast to suckle the nipple, hardening it with her lips and teeth. Then she worked her way down over anna's belly, around and through her navel, all the way to that pink canyon of flesh which had already begun to excrete its sweet juices, the hips twitching slightly in the spasms of erotic response.

julie, meanwhile, had been wandering among the men, all of them now intent on the show taking place before them. her hand caressed each crotch until she felt a stirring in one. It was Mark. she took his hand, closed her eyes, and placed it on her own sex as she continued to rub his, feeling it grow within her palm. she felt his hand make contact with her belly and move down to her shaven delta. A finger slipped into her as Mark's breathing became deeper and his cock stiffened to full readiness. she placed her free hand over his, holding it firmly to her mound of Venus while she closed the fingers of her other hand around his bulging genitals and tugged him gently forward toward the two girls on the cross.

"Poor anna needs to be fucked," she whispered while continuing the massage, taking care not to overdo it. "Please, help her. she wants it so badly. She hasn't had any today at all. If you give her a good orgasm, I'll do anything you want me to. Anything!"

"Hows about I fuck you, instead?" he offered.

She felt him starting to turn toward her. "No, no, Mark!" She released his cock and pressed both hands against his chest. "my Master wouldn't allow it," she lied. "You've already fucked me. But anna really wants it and Master ordered me to find a man who can make her cum. Please! Later you can do what ever you want with me, but right now please use this wonderful tool on anna." She squeezed the tool in question to make sure he got the point and deftly rolled a condom over it. "Look at her! She's so wet, and so in need of a man! Besides, it makes me hot to watch! Just make her cum. Then you can do me."

Mark did some instant calculations. A glance at the shrinking stretch of rocky sand told him they had at least a half hour before the incoming tide forced them off the beach. His nineteen year old apparatus was now fully recharged, and despite his three earlier orgasms, he figured there was a good chance he could recover fast enough after anna to pleasure himself with this other beauty as well. Alternately, with his sexual edge already well dulled, he might have enough staying power to make the first slut cum, then switch to the other for his own finish. Wasting no more time, he shoved Tori's diminutive body aside, straddled the wooden beam and entered anna. Within half a minute of his furious pounding her small cries of pleasure had escalated to a continuing wail of intense pleasure. Soon, her head snapped back against the beam, her eyes glazed over and her body convulsed in the unmistakable seizures of sexual ecstacy. Mark felt the increased lubrication of her juices and immediately pulled out, grabbed julie, threw her down on top of anna's still writhing body and took her as well. He lasted a good three minutes, alternating between the two females, one stacked over the other. julie came, anna came, and finally julie came again just as Mark filled his fourth and final condom. For good measure he slipped it off and drizzled its contents over their faces, then used his cock to massage it in like a face creme. This young man was really catching on. One day he'll make a fine Master for some lucky submissive.

 

anna's journal, August 31

Wow! Yesterday was amazing! Master took me on a boat trip to Manassas Island along with three other Dom/sub couples from the Iron Collar Club — Master Jacob Lorenz and his slave julie, Dr. Jonathan Howells and his wife Kelly, and Eric Decker with his wife Tori. All three of the women are well trained and well behaved submissives, but julie is the only one with an actual slave contract. her contract isn't at all like mine, though. It has certain limitations as to what Master Jacob can do to her and they renegotiate it every two years. i would hate that! It wouldn't be at all the same knowing that i could wriggle out of total obedience to Master just because i didn't like some of his demands, or I couldn't stand the pain of his punishments. What kind of slavery would that be?

i love julie, she's a sweetie, but as far as i'm concerned, Masters and slaves should not be married. The two conditions aren't at all compatible. Wives have rights; a slave has no rights. Or shouldn't have. When i gave myself to my Master, it wasn't a lease, it was a gift, free and clear, no strings. There was no "until" or "except for" or "other than." No escape clause. He owns me. Period. i cannot express in words the exhilarating pleasure it gives me to submit to His whims, no matter how humiliating or disgusting or painful! He can make me laugh, scream, cum, beg for mercy, it doesn't matter. However he decides to use me, i love Him for it. In fact, it's only when i'm screaming and the tears are flowing, or when i pass out from unbearable pain, that i can truly demonstrate the bottomless depth of my devotion to Him. Then when He makes love to me, all the memory of the pain i have endured for Him becomes a spinning cloud of cotton candy bliss. i want to drown myself in His love. i want Him to make me suffer more, to grant me another opportunity to offer up my body as a sacrifice to my Beloved.

i'm so glad i'm not married to Him. Everywhere i go i see all these married women with their long faces. Their resigned expressions reflect the boredom of the monogamy they think is so important. Thank God my good Master rescued me from such a fate. If i were Mrs. Fortune, i'd expect my fair share of the decision making. Since my tastes are very different from His in a lot of things — clothing, furniture, food, TV, music, movies, you name it — it would often come down to who gets their way. i've seen enough examples of marital bickering and the misery and heartache it can lead to that i want nothing to do with it. But none of that will happen because i'm not the doctor's wife, i'm the Doctor's property. He never consults me on any decisions at all. i might say, "If it pleases you, Sir, i'd like to watch Jeopardy this evening." To which He might nod His head in approval. Or He might shake His head and say, "No!" leaving me to sit on the floor and watch what He wants to watch. Or, if i've been really good and He's feeling generous, He might let me stand in the kitchen and watch my choice of show on the kitchen TV. The point is, there's never an argument. Ours is not a "partnership." The fair share in decision making is Master 100%, slave 0%.

Then there's the sex. Like i said, i pity all those wives who think that monogamy is essential to their happiness, who feel all devastated and betrayed if their husbands fuck other women, and who deprive themselves of abundance and variety in their own sex lives. They're convinced that sexual exclusivity is the same as "faithful," and "virtuous." Thank God my Master saved me from that ridiculous concept. For me "faithfulness" and "virtue" is obeying and pleasing Master. It pleases Master to fuck whomever He chooses, sometimes with me in attendance. His pleasure is all that counts. Moreover, since it pleases Him to give me to others, i also have a wonderfully rich sex life without ever feeling guilty. As a good slave, i'm an outrageous slut and i love every minute of it!

Yesterday's cruise was a perfect example. He started by dressing me in one of his favorite types of costumes: a sundress with spaghetti straps and a large green and red floral print, the kind of thing a seven or eight year old girl would wear. The hemline didn't even make it halfway down my thighs. With no underwear on, it was inevitable that in the gusty winds on the waterfront it would keep blowing up and revealing my southern exposure to anyone who happened to be watching. i kept a straight face as though i hadn't noticed their double-takes. It was wonderfully risque and would have been perfect, except that Master insisted i go barefoot. The pebbles on the hot tarmac made the trip between the car and the wharf a rather painful journey, but i made no effort to hide my grimaces because Master likes to see my honest reactions.

i also realized He would have far more painful ordeals in store for me during the trip, and He certainly did. First He stripped me naked and tied me up in the cockpit where anybody could see me. This was in the harbor in Marblehead and i guess He wasn't worried about His reputation because no one knows Him there. Once we were beyond the close confines of the harbor, He suspended me over the side of the boat in a rope harness and left me dangling there during the entire trip to the island. At first it wasn't too bad. i was swinging freely, belly down, supported by ropes around my legs, chest and arms. But oh my God! As time went along it became extremely painful! Master had used those nasty brown ropes that burn into the skin. When i complained, He stuffed my mouth with somebody's panties (i don't know who, but she must have done a bit of early entertaining because i could taste her poon tang). Then He ran a rope between the gag and my feet, pulling my head back. Long before the trip to the island ended i was crying so much i couldn't see anything, and in so much pain i lost track of whatever else was going on.

Apparently one of the things that was going on was that we had picked up a trio of college boys who had shadowed us in their own boat and liked what they saw. Master and His friends invited them to join us on the island.

Before we disembarked, though, the other girls and me were allowed to have a cocktail. This is a rare treat for me because normally Master does not allow me to have any alcohol at all. In fact, he barely allows me to eat because He wants to keep me slim and trim for his pleasure. i have to eat his left over vegetables and fruit and all that nutritious shit. If i complain he canes me, so i don't complain.

Anyway, as soon as we hit the beach the four of us subs were handcuffed in a square facing outward. Kelly was cuffed to my right wrist, Tori to my left and julie was behind me. While the guys went back to the boat for the provisions and a trunk full of torture stuff, we tried to check out the beach a little. It was a riot trying to get organized. Kelly, Dr. Howell's wife, was the tallest and bossiest so she took over, told us where we were going and how to get there. Of course, it always worked out that she was walking forward while julie and i were moving crabwise and poor little Tori had to walk backwards. Tori is Mr. Decker's wife. She's a cute little thing, dark and gentle. Part Tai, i think. She was trembling a little, so i held her hand. She's very submissive, but she scares easily.

Pretty soon the men were back, along with the college boys from the other boat whom they didn't bother to introduce to us. That's all right. We would get to "know" them real well before long. The guys set up a fire pot for the hot dogs and did the male thing: lighting the fire. After that it was up to the women to prepare the meal.

Master Daniel took off the handcuffs between julie and Tori which made it a little easier to work as a group. This put Tori on the left end, then me, Kelly and julie. Kelly was still trying to run the show, which was fine by me, but julie was starting to get pissed. Our Masters stopped the squabbling by selecting disciplinary devices from the trunk and using them on us until we began cooperating with each other. They used a flogger, a belt a whip and a cane. Kelly got the worst of it, and well she should. By the time we finally were able to serve the men, her ass was covered with welts from that damned cane. i have to give her credit: i would have been awash in tears at the kind of caning she got, but she just cringed with each blow and shook it off.

She was also the first one to be hogtied. They made her what they called "fuck fruit." They bound her feet and hands together and hung her from a tree limb where they played with her. They swung her around, paddling her like a tether ball. Then they stuffed her with dildos and vegetables and took turns whipping and fucking her.

Poor Tori was next. They spreadeagled her to a frame made of pipes and plopped her down where the incoming surf kept washing over her, deeper and deeper, while one of the college boys fondled and fucked her. i was really afraid she was going to drown. In fact, i was so upset about it i had started to bawl. But Master and Mr. Decker went out and lifted her out of the rising tide and carried her safely to the beach. Master came over to me afterwards and shook his head at me, as if to say, "Why did you doubt me?" i was so relieved and ashamed of myself that i kissed His feet, wiping my tears on his shins. He laughed and kissed the top of my head.

They left me alone for a long time, tying julie to a chair and propping up Tori in her frame so that all the guys could fuck them at their leisure. My duty was to provide fellatio to whoever wanted it. Finally it was my turn. Master made me dig a deep post-hole, then put a collar and leash on me and made me crawl on my hands and knees to the far end of the beach where the men had constructed a crucifix out of four-by-fours. They bound my arms to the crossbar and made me drag the damned thing all the way back to the hole, and they made me do it on my knees! That beach is just sharp rocks and pebbles and walking on it in bare feet is unpleasant enough. But on my knees — which were already sore from the first trip — and with the added weight of that cross. . . my God! Was that painful! It cut my knees all up! When they finally erected the cross and "crucified" me, i could see blood running down my shins.

Hanging there on the cross wasn't too bad at first, but the ropes were soon cutting into my arms brutally. By squeezing my feet against the four-by-four upright and pushing up, i was able to relieve the pressure for brief intervals, but my trembling leg muscles would soon give out and i'd drop back to hanging from my arms again. Furthermore, to squeeze my feet against opposite sides of the post, i had to bend my knees and spread open my legs, leaving my cunt wide open, a target the men could hardly be expected to resist! They happily added to my torment by caning it and whipping it with a belt. In a way, though, the pain there was a welcome distraction from the relentless torture of the ropes.

One of the other girls was lashed to the post just under my feet, but i was in way too much misery to care who. She was bent over with her butt in the air, ready for fucking. my Master was the first one to take advantage of it, which i only noticed because He sucked on my toes as He fucked her. What a sweet contrast that was! My Master sucking my toes against the pain of the ropes. It seemed forever before the cross was finally uprooted and laid flat on the ground with me on top.

i was so relieved at that point that i didn't even care who had climbed on top of me and was licking my mouth. It wasn't until i felt the tongue work its way down to my breasts that i opened my eyes and saw it was Tori. She sucked on my tits so gently and thrillingly that it swept away the memory of my recent agony. As she kissed and licked her way down to my clit, i let myself yield to those wonderful sensations that sweep through your body and blot out all rational thoughts. Master gave me permission to cum and i had barely done so when one of the college boys replaced Tori and was immediately inside me pumping vigorously. i was over the top again in no time and moaning with pleasure when he pulled out and pulled julie on top of me. i was still stretched out on that hard four-inch-wide beam and her added weight made me suddenly aware of how much it hurt, especially when he began plowing her, her body motion grinding my back against the narrow beam. Then he would switch and would be back inside me, stirring up those sex chills all over again. It was amazing! i think i came two or three more times, and julie too. Afterwards he emptied his condom all over my face and julie's and rubbed it in with his penis. Some of it got into my eyes. Wow, did that sting!

Later i found out Tori and julie had earned some desperately needed water by making me and the boy cum. Glad i could help out.

By the time the tide had swallowed up most of the beach and was threatening to push us into the woods, the men had pretty much exhausted themselves sexually and decided it was time to call it a day. But they had one last test for their four subs. Each of us had a butt plug inserted in her anus and we were ordered not to allow it to fall out, nor could we touch it. The first girl to lose her plug would get the harshest punishment, the cane. The second would be whipped. The third belted. The last one (the winner?) would merely be spanked. This would be while we were also packing up all our stuff and putting it in the raft for return to the boat. We would, of course, be required to thank those who delivered the punishments for each and every blow.

Keeping a butt plug in your glory hole with just your sphincter muscle while you're moving around is simply impossible. It was just a matter of who could keep it in longer and earn the lightest punishment. To help us resist the temptation to cheat, our hands were cuffed in front of us. Naturally, this also made it harder to do our work. More fun for the audience, though, especially since these were the types of plugs that had long, colorful pony tails attached that switched about as we walked.

Tori was the first to lose her butt plug. She strained mightily to keep it in, scrunching up her face and tightening her ass cheeks. But out it plopped. One of the college boys pinned her over his knee as he and each of the other six men delivered a single stroke with the cane. The pauses as the cane changed hands allowed time for the waves of pain from each blow to take full effect and poor little Tori was sobbing uncontrollably when the last blow landed, seven frightful purple and red welts covering her bottom and the back of her thighs. Yet she managed to blubber out a thanks to each man along the way for his contribution to her punishment.

i was next. Try as i might, i just could not squeeze my rectum tight enough to keep the damn pony tail from slipping out as i walked to the raft with a bag of trash. They made me stretch out on my belly over the top of the trunk and hang on while all seven men took their turn with the bullwhip. Since each man was allowed only one blow, he put his all into it. Thanking your torturer after receiving such a blow is incredibly difficult, but i did it! Had to. They would have kept beating me until i did. i'm afraid i was crying almost a hard as Tori by the time it was over. They let the two of us sit on the sand and comfort each other, although Tori couldn't really sit because her bottom hurt so much.

julie popped her plug just seconds after mine and had to endure seven strokes of the belt. Kelly, wouldn't you know, outlasted us all. But her punishment turned out to be more than she'd bargained for. She had to drape herself over each man's knee individually and take five hard spanks from him, a total of thirty-five. Her ass was on fire at the end of it and she had teared up, but she thanked her tormentors through clenched teeth and joined the rest of us in our miserable huddle.

Believe it or not, one of the college boys — the black guy — was so turned on by all the punishments that he was hard again! My Master immediately offered him the use of my body to relieve his tension and was kind enough to ask him to take me from behind, standing up, so the whip stripes on my back and bottom wouldn't get infected on the rough beach.

The trip back to Marblehead was almost idyllic. The subs were each allowed two beers and given soft cushions to relax on. The men even let me steer the boat for a while. At one point, though, julie had to pee badly. Master Jake, her husband and Owner, gave her the bowl we had used on the beach and instructed her to squat over it and pee in front of us. she appeared close to crying at the unexpected humiliation, but she did as she was ordered. The men leered attentively. Kelly looked like she couldn't care less. Tori looked stricken and averted her eyes. Some of the pee splashed out when the boat was jarred by a wave and Master Jake made julie lick it up off the deck. This ultra humiliation underlines the difference between a mere submissive who might have refused and a real slave who will not. It was also a powerful incentive for the rest of us to hold our bladders till we got home. Except for Kelly, of course, who smiled suggestively at the men as she peed in the bowl, although she was careful to keep any from splashing on the deck.

As the ocean slid by and i learned to accommodate the many sore places on my body, i relived in my mind the many highlights of the day — the terrors, the torments and the sex — and hoped, as i hope now, that Master was pleased with my performance and continues to find me worthy of His love. One good sign is that He let me sit on the couch with Him this evening to watch TV. He even excused me from tonight's punishments without hearing my list of infractions. Best of all, He's going to let me sleep with Him in His bed all night, even though my collar and ankle chains tend to annoy Him. i'll make an extra special effort to keep them out of His way. Sex with others is always fun, but as i've said before, when Master Daniel makes love to me, the thrill extends all the way to my soul!

Looking back, it was a fantastically erotic day, one that i'll never forget. i don't think those college boys will, either.

Chapter 11

I was quite satisfied with anna's progress. she proved to be brave and resilient, so much so that I felt continually compelled to raise the bar. Despite her many minor infractions during her daily routine — forgetting to keep her lips parted, sneaking a moment to sit in a chair, watching TV without permission, cheating on her diet with the occasional cracker, that sort of thing — she never complained about her punishments or begged off, even when she was sick and felt miserable. And she was always maddeningly honest about it; I could never catch her failing to reveal her misdemeanors. Even when she'd made a serious violation, like leaving the house without permission, she invariably confessed, sometimes tearfully, aware that she was condemning herself to a severe punishment, but doing it anyway and asking not to be spared what she deserved.

Nor did she ever fail to make a daily entry in her journal. In fact, those entries became so automatic to her that she seemed to forget that I read them from time to time. She often poured out her most intimate and passionate thoughts. Those moments of inner truth lay bare the unconditional quality of her love for me and her determination to please. The only thing she feared more than the extreme punishments I sometimes meted out was the possibility that one day I might find her unworthy and sell her.

It was a fine balancing act, keeping anna in line while letting her know she was loved. A slave must be able to depend on the unrelenting discipline of her Master or she will lose respect for Him. She must be absolutely certain in her mind that He will not tolerate the slightest deviation from the rules. If she detects any inconsistency, compassion or hesitation on His part in correcting her, she will, on some unconscious level, recognize it as a weakness and begin to test it. How much can she get away with? Disobedience, trifling at first, becomes belligerence and their relationship as Master and slave is doomed. On the other hand, all humans require some degree of nurturing or they become despondent, or angry, or rebellious, or suicidal — attitudes which are definitely undesirable in a sex slave. For this reason I was careful to introduce very small relaxations of certain rules in very gradual and selective increments so that the changes have come across to anna as rewards for her progress rather than softness on my part.

Perhaps the most humiliating of her training requirements was having to eat out of a bowl on the floor like a dog. Being the dedicated slave that she is, she did it without complaint, but the comments in her journal revealed how difficult it was for her to deal with it, how corrosive on her self esteem. Sometimes I would catch her silently weeping into her bowl. But that's its purpose, isn't it? To impress on the slave that her status is less than that of other humans. Nevertheless, it was a good place to start in making life a little less arduous for gutsy little anna.

"From now on," I announced one morning, "as long as you continue to improve in your adherence to the rules and your efforts to please me, I'm going to allow you to eat dinner at the table with a plate and utensils on Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays. And, of course, on any day we have vanilla guests." I could see she was about to burst with happiness, so to temper her appreciation I added, "You will, of course, execute flawless table manners to prove you are worthy of such generosity. Any failure to do so will result in a choice of accepting severe punishment or a return to eating every meal out of a bowl on the floor. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

she crawled over and covered my shoes with kisses and tears.

she knew full well that I meant every word of my admonition and that it was inevitable she would fail in some ridiculous detail. But it meant so much to her to become human again at dinnertime, at least three times a week, that she gladly accepted the threat of "severe punishment"and the reality that it would happen sooner or later.

But she certainly did her best to delay the inevitable. It was amusing to watch her struggle to maintain perfect dining etiquette. she sat rigidly straight, a picture of genteel elegance despite her nudity. With delicate and minimal motion she would slice her meat, swap the knife and fork in her hands and lift a tiny portion of it to her mouth. she sipped her water as though it were a fine wine, and transported minuscule portions of broccoli and roasted new potatoes to her lips. At the slightest hint that I might be about to ask for something, she would put down her knife and fork and stare at me with those big blue eyes so as not to miss the smallest clue as to how to please me. I tested her rather nastily the first few times, asking for something, changing my mind, asking for something else, throwing it on the table in disgust, shouting my displeasure. she looked terrified, her voice trembled, but she never lost her cool. Later, during her evening examination, she apologized tearfully for her inadequacies and begged me to punish her as severely as I wished rather than strip her of her new privileges. I punished her, but only a little. I used a box I keep in the dungeon, the door of which is a stock with a hole for the head. I clamped it over her neck, shackled her hands behind her, bent her over and positioned her with her head inside the box. I caned her bottom a little, then left her there for a little over an hour. It doesn't sound like much, but if you're the least bit claustrophobic, the experience is pure hell. Even now at the mere threat of it she collapses and weeps in terror. I have no desire to endanger her sanity so I have not repeated that particular punishment.

I saved the actual "severe punishment" for her first real gaffe. It happened when, in her hurry to respond to one of my demands, she knocked her fork off the side of the plate and splattered tomato sauce all over the tablecloth. The look of horror in her eyes was priceless. Even better, she had another two hours after dinner to worry about just what that punishment would be. I could actually see the tension building in her eyes and her movements as she cleared the table and washed the dishes. I was tempted to stand and glare at her ominously, but she was clearly on the verge of coming apart. So I opted for a slightly kinder approach, but one that would jack up the fear factor.

"I want you to finish the dishes," I said sternly, "and be in the living room in the kneel up position for your evening inquisition precisely on time, seven o'clock. You will have with you a full account of your misbehavior for the day. You will also go to the peg-board at the back of the kitchen cabinet and extract a pair of handcuffs, a short length of chain, a padlock and a riding crop and present them to me at that time."

"Yes, Master," she whispered. Normally for these inquisitions she brought only her journal with the listing of her errors. The addition of the handcuffs and other hardware was a clear signal that this night would be dreadfully different. Let her stew on that, I thought.

She was, indeed, on her knees in front of me at precisely seven o'clock, holding out the required items in trembling hands. She kept her eyes fastened on the floor, as much out of fear of what she might read in my eyes as out of obedience to the rule. At my command she quickly recited the few minor flaws in her conduct that day: she masturbated a little while reading a book during a break and called the fish market without permission to check on the freshness of their haddock before making an authorized trip to buy it. Then she swallowed hard.

"And i committed a terrible offense at the table this evening. It was an accident, but i hit my fork and spattered tomato sauce on the table. It was inexcusably clumsy and i beg you accept my apologies for it, Master, and to punish me severely, if it pleases You."

"I warned you I would revoke your privilege to eat at the table if you failed to demonstrate you're worthy of it, didn't I?"

"Please, Master! i mean, yes, Master. Please may i speak, Master? Please!" her eyes bore into the rug as though she were willing a script to appear in it with the magical words that would save her precious few days a week at the table.

"Do you think I will not do what I warned you I would do?" I managed not to laugh but the poor girl was so distressed I thought she might pee on the rug. That, of course, would raise the punishment stakes to challenging new heights.

"No, Master! You said you would punish me severely, and I beg you to do so. Please don't take my table privilege away, Master! Please! You said you would give me a choice of that or severe punishment. Please, i choose the severe punishment! If it pleases you. Please!"

"When I said 'severe' punishment, I meant really severe . The suffering will be immense! Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Oh yes, Master! i deserve to be punished in any way you see fit. Make it as painful as i can bear. No! Make it more painful than i can bear! Make me scream until i pass out, then again, over and over! Make it last for days! But please, let me keep eating at the table, even just one or two times a week. i'm a bad and unworthy slave, and you are my dear Lord and Master whom i love and obey and whose decision i will always accept, but i pray from the depths of my heart that it will please you to allow me that one mercy!"

Before I could respond to that remarkable speech, she had fallen on my feet and was planting wet kisses all over them. She even pulled off my slippers and was kissing and licking each one of my toes separately. It was such a delightful sight and sensation that I let her keep it up for a few minutes, but when the little vixen began devouring mouthfuls of toes and sucking on them, I started to get hard. It was time to take control again.

"Kneel up!"

she sprang up to her knees instantly, her eyes shut tight, dreading the verdict. Either way she would lose, but she had sealed her own fate.

"Very well, your table privileges will remain as before. you will instead, by your own choice, be severely punished. That punishment will be in two stages. The first part will begin now. The second part will take place this weekend at a party you will arrange for a number of our lifestyle friends. you will do all the work of inviting the guests, preparing the refreshments, and acting as hostess. In addition, you will prepare the instruments for the evening's entertainment in which you will also be featured. The entertainment will consist of your public torture and humiliation. And I assure you, it will be more severe than anything you have ever experienced or imagined."

I let that sink in for a few seconds. her initial smile of relief had darkened at the mention of public torture and humiliation. What had she had agreed to? To help ramp up her anxiety, I handcuffed her wrists behind her back, wrenched her arms up until she whimpered and connected the handcuffs chain to her collar with the spring clips to hold them there. I grabbed a fistful of her hair, which is unusually thick for a blonde, and pulled her to her feet. she mewed from the pain as I shoved her along ahead of me and down the stairs to the dungeon. A thick bit gag strapped into her mouth eliminated any attempt she might have made to complain. Now she could only grunt and drool.

I made her stand and watch as I fashioned a noose out of a heavy length of hemp rope, put it around her neck and threaded the other end through a ceiling pulley. Stationing her directly under the pulley, I pulled her up until she had to stand on her tiptoes to avoid strangling. Now she had two things to worry about: the intensifying pain in her shoulders and arms, and the burning in her calf muscles as she strained to keep the noose from tightening. I decided she needed a distraction and selected a heavy leather belt from the collection of toys on the wall. Walking slow circles around her, I began striking her rhythmically with the belt, mixing medium and hard blows. Her breasts, belly, thighs, bottom, back, calves — no part of her from her ankles to her shoulders was spared. Angry red bands of insulted flesh covered nearly every inch of her body, and tears flowed down her cheeks to mingle with the drool from her open mouth.

Suddenly she began hopping on the toes of her right foot as the left leg stabbed wildly in the air. Then her right leg collapsed as well and the noose tightened around her neck. Terror filled her eyes as she tried desperately to inhale. Obviously, her over-stressed calf muscles had cramped. I released the rope, removed the noose and watched her draw in life-giving air around the gag. With her breathing restored she began stamping her feet and flinging herself about, clearly in terrible pain from the cramps. I took her arm and forced her to walk around the dungeon in circles until she calmed down and was able to signal me that the cramps were gone. I removed the handcuffs to give her shoulders and arms a chance to recover from their full-nelson position and prepared the next element of her punishment.

I dragged a cage to the center of the room. It was about three feet square and made of iron bands. On occasion I had locked anna inside it, sometimes with her hands and feet sticking through the spaces between the bands and secured in place with straps or metal clamps. This time I ordered her to lie on top of it, face up. Using leather straps, I fastened her ankles to the bottom corners on one side and her wrists to the opposite bottom corners. This forced her body into an uncomfortable arch on top of what amounted to an iron grate. I attached fierce clamps to her nipples and ran cords from the clamps to the rings at the side of her bit gag, adjusting them so that she had to had to hold her head up or its weight would tug painfully at her tits. She looked at me balefully, her brow wrinkled as she struggled against the rapidly mounting sting in her nipples and the growing pain of the metal cage edges digging into her back. Soon her neck muscles would begin to tremble and burn, forcing her to let her head fall back and escalate the torture to her breasts.

"I'm going to leave you here to contemplate your choice of punishments," I told her. Then I couldn't resist rubbing it in. "Remember, this is only the first part. The second part will be much worse. I'll come back in an hour or so to see how you're doing."

she made small noises through her bit gag, then squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on dealing with what couldn't be avoided. An "hour or so" of suffering.

I kept an eye on her with the monitor system, but her agony was so heart rending that I decided to end it in just thirty-five minutes. I'm sure it felt like two hours to her. she was crying and choking on her own drool when I re-entered the dungeon. I released the nipple clamps quickly so she could enjoy the tremendous surge of pain that causes. she screamed through her gag, arching up away from the cage, then settled slowly back down, weeping quietly as the pain subsided, waiting for me to undo the straps around her ankles and wrists. I helped her to her feet, but she couldn't stand on her own. I had to help her up the stairs. I even let her sleep in my bed that night, a necessary kindness to show that I love her and care about her, regardless of my obligation to punish her.

 

anna's journal, October 3

All week i've been making arrangements for my own execution. That's what it feels like, anyway. The first part of my punishment was hard, but Master promises me that this second part will be much, much harder. i've thrown up three times since Monday. Master says it's just nerves and if i were a patient he'd prescribe a tranquilizer. But of course, i'm not His patient; i'm His slave. He says it's like being a condemned prisoner: the anticipation, the knowing what's going to happen and when it's going to happen is part of the punishment. i'm supposed to be nervous. And believe me, i am! my stomach is constantly in knots. Which is ironic because the whole reason i agreed to this was so i could eat three meals a week at the table. Now i sit there and barely touch it because my insides are so twisted up i'm afraid i'll vomit.

At the same time, i'm excited, crazy as that sounds. The fear makes me all itchy and tingly down below and i want to masturbate so badly i can hardly stand it. But i know Master must give me permission, so i don't. Sometimes it gets so bad i have to do it anyway, and then Master has to punish me, but i've been really trying to be good this week. Maybe if i'm really, really good, Master will go a little easier on me Saturday. Oh God, i hope so! And yet, perversely, there's another part of me that hopes not.

So far I've sent out eight invitations to couples from the Iron Collar Club and received six acceptances. Master Tom Atkins and slave kristina were first on my Master's list, which is appropriate because i've know them from the beginning of my training. They were in on my very first "public" punishment. Master Tom said He wouldn't miss this for the world. Master Jason Moore accepted right away, too, and He's bringing both His slaves: oriana and mya. Then there were our companions from that unforgettable boat trip to Manassas Island: Dr./Master Jake Lorenz and his wife/slave julie, as well as Dr. Jonathan and Kelly Howells, and Eric Decker with his wife Tori. Rounding out the acceptances were two more full-time Master/slave couples: Blaine Stanovski with slave jessika, and Logan Kapler with His newest acquisition, tatyana.

Under His gruff, burly exterior Master Blaine is a sweetheart. He's very strict with jessika but always entirely fair, just like my own dear Master. They're in their late forties so He keeps her hair styled appropriately short and cute. Like my own Master, He makes her color it a bright blonde. jessika's pretty and sexy but a little chunky, which must be what Master Blaine likes because He doesn't make her diet.

Master Logan is another kettle of fish. He's tall, lean and has a very ugly temper. He keeps poor tatyana rail thin. i've never seen her eat anything more fattening than lettuce. she's scared to death of Him, too, but i don't feel too sorry for her. she knew perfectly well what she was getting into. she's Ukrainian and they met on the web, some kind of an international dating site. she's 23 (to His 48) and about 5' 6" with long, dark brown hair, huge gray eyes and endless legs. Gorgeous! she was 22 when they began e-mailing each other and admits He made no secret of what He wanted in a woman. she must have had a pretty good idea of what her life with Him would be like when she agreed to let Him pay her way over here from Ukraine because she'd signed a preliminary slave contract. she'd dabbled a little in bdsm in her home town of Dnepropetrovsk (yes, it's a real place; she spelled it out very slowly for me) and was all excited to be tamed and trained by a real Master. Kinda like me, i guess. Well, she got her wish. Master Logan is not just strict, he's truly sadistic. He makes her sleep on the hard floor with no pallette or pillow and a one-foot chain locking her collar to the foot of the bed. He keeps her naked all day except for a mean black corset which he cinches so tight around her waist it's a wonder He doesn't snap her in two. He also makes her wear shoes with punishing four-inch heels, locking them to her feet and ankles with straps so she can't take them off. To top it off, he attaches thick chains between her wrist cuffs, then down to her ankle cuffs and up to her collar, securing them with padlocks. That's to make sure she can't put on clothes and leave the house. Imagine trying to do housework in ultra high heels and heavy chains that keep you from extending your hands above your shoulders or below your hips. Makes going to the bathroom kinda tricky, too, especially since He canes her viciously if she doesn't keep herself clean. It also means she has to plan ahead every morning, getting down everything she needs for the day's meals from the upper cupboards before He locks the chains on, because after that she can't reach them. Pity her if she forgets something! And the things He does to her when He exhibits her at the Club! She's always in more pain than any of us. God knows how terrible her actual punishments must be! But Master specifically ordered me to invite "Master Logan Kapler and His slave," and He accepted.

So it looks like my punishment party will consist of thirteen guests plus Master and me. Or maybe the correct wording is "Six Guests and Their slaves." Except that Kelly and Tori aren't really slaves, just bottoms. Don't know what the proper form is. Have to ask Master. i do know that only Masters and Mistresses are acknowledged at the door and served at the table. we slaves and bottoms are invisible and silent until permitted otherwise. At dinner we usually sit on the floor beside our Masters to eat, if we're permitted to eat at all. Not that Master hasn't taken me to dinner engagements and banquets where everyone was invited to the table and we all chatted amiably, but that's always because vanilla folks are present. i've also been to parties where no one spoke to me all evening and i was never given permission to look at anything but the floor. It's a truly humbling experience that puts a slave firmly in her place. Then there are the parties where i've been handed around as a sex toy, which is humbling in a wholly different way!

i don't think i'll be allowed any such use Saturday night. In fact, by last Wednesday i was so distraught i did a really stupid thing. i actually asked my Master what sort of punishment i might expect. He told me i'd find out soon enough, but that every time i ask such a question He will double what He's already planned.

Today i showed him the menu i've planned for Him and His guests: a choice of grilled tenderloin steak with peppercorns and basil, or pan fried salmon with dill. He instructed me to create some extra special hors d'oeuvres, a light dessert and to order a case of champagne. He said i could expect to serve the champaign, hors d'oeuvres and entree myself, but that the other slaves would serve the dessert and after dinner drinks because i would be indisposed.

So you see, i don't know what's going to happen to me, only when it will start. i'm very scared, but i'm also terribly excited.

Chapter 12

I put a deal of thought into anna's punishment. It was, in effect, the price for her access to the table. That price had to be high enough to impress upon her the value of that privilege, but not so horrendous as to break her spirit. I had no desire to turn a sexy young pain slut into a quivering doormat. I have no need for a lifeless set of female bodily orifices with no soul attached. I might as well buy an inflatable doll. Or a prostitute. To my mind the ideal slave is superficially obedient but irrepressibly randy and masochistic, excited by the boiling stimulants of fear, pain and sex. anna only feels emotionally secure if her desperate need for iron-clad love is forged in the fire of unflinching discipline. It's a finely tuned balance. I have to be willing to dish it out and she has to be strong enough to take it. I can't flinch out of pity, but I must not stress her beyond her strength. anna is courageous but not as rugged as she thinks, physically or emotionally.

I had supplied her with a list of guests for her punishment party chosen from our bdsm friends at the Iron Collar Club. I selected only those on whom I could rely to show anna little quarter. She was to pass on to the Masters my wish to have the women come in formal cocktail dresses. I didn't care what they wore under them, if anything, as long as the entire company would be in sharp contrast to what anna would be wearing, from her opening costume to the time she would be stripped naked. In such situations, every bit of humiliation counts, and it doesn't take a psychiatrist to realize that women are exceedingly sensitive to whether they are properly attired for any given occasion.

I spent some time in my shop preparing some special equipment. One involved a tray which anna would use to serve the hors d'oeuvres. A few holes drilled in both sides did the trick. I also rummaged around in the dungeon for a number of items I hadn't used for a while, including a heavy oak stock with holes for head and hands. I inserted some hooks in the living room and dining room ceilings, telling myself I could always take them out later and putty in the holes. In fact, I never did. Our lifestyle friends know what they're for. Our vanilla friends are too polite to ask.

anna did a superb job of organizing and preparing the party and the dinner, I have to admit. It surely wasn't easy for her, knowing that she was setting herself up for the most difficult and painful night of her young life. She must have felt like a condemned prisoner preparing her own execution. I have never admired her courage and loved her as much.

 

anna's journal, October 26

I can barely hold this pen, my fingers are so sore. Somehow i made it through last night and am still relatively sane. Was it worth it? Just for three meals a week to eat at the table with a knife and fork and plate like a human being? Yes. Oh God, yes! Will i do it again the next time i make some goddamn clumsy mistake? i don't know. Maybe. But, oh God! It was so awful! i love my Master, but He can be so cruel!

It started out innocently enough. After all my hard work putting out the invitations, confirming them, cleaning the house and preparing the meal, i had hoped to sit down at the table with the other slaves and enjoy the peppersteak and champagne. Yeah, right. i should have known better. Master dressed me up in a silly French maid outfit that buttoned up the front — black with white lace trim, skirt almost up to my crotch, pouffy shoulders, a narrow black belt, high heels and my black dog collar. The ends of a large dog's choke chain had been looped around my ankles and locked in place, hobbling me so that i had to take tiny steps as I took coats and jackets from the arriving guests.

When the last couple had arrived, Master took me into the living room and with everyone gathered around to watch unbuttoned my dress down to the belt and pulled down the top. Then He produced a serving tray and attached one side of it to my belt. Two cords were attached to the opposite side of the tray. Master took from His pocket a pair of nipple clamps, the really strong ones He uses when He wants to hang heavy weights from my tits. i closed my eyes and bit my lip as he put them on. They hurt like hell! He tied the two cords to the clamps so that my nipples were now holding the tray level. Then He started piling glasses and bottles of Champagne on the tray along with a bowl of my fancy seafood hors d'oeuvres and ordered me to circulate among the guests. i tried not to cry as the pain mounted, but what's the use? Soon i was weeping like a whipped schoolgirl as i presented my refreshments to the guests. The women were silently sympathetic and took their refreshments gently, while the men liked to set the bottles down hard on the tray to see me gasp. When dinner was announced, i had to bring in the plates for the Masters on that same tray, along with the bowls of vegetables and, finally, the bowls for the slaves eating at their Masters' feet.

Once everyone had been served, Master removed the tray, locked my head and hands into a heavy wooden stock and connected it with a chain from a hook He had installed in the ceiling. He connected the cords from my nipple clamps to an iron weight on the floor so that i had to bend my knees to relieve the painful pull on my nipples. The chain connecting the stock to the ceiling kept me from kneeling on the floor to give my legs a rest and so the muscles were on fire. The only other option was to hang by my head and hands until my legs had recovered enough to help out. So as He and His guests enjoyed the salmon and peppercorn steak and the chocolate mousse that followed (served by slave oriana), i wept and moaned fighting off the pain in my legs, my arms, my jaw and my poor tortured nips.

After they had finished, Master looked over at me and smiled with satisfaction, whether because of my suffering or my cooking i couldn't tell. But at that point i was desperate enough to beg.

"Please, Master, release me, just for a minute."

He laughed and reminded me in front of the guests that extreme punishment had been my choice. "Have you changed your mind? Have you decided it would be better to lose your table privileges than take your punishment?"

i knew the answer i must give, but it took me another minute of weeping to screw up the courage to say it. my voice seemed to come from another room. Master told me to speak up.

"No, Master."

"No what , slave anna?"

"No, i have not changed my mind. Please . . ." It was so hard to say it.

"Please what, slave anna?" His voice was calm but unyielding.

i took a deep breath to get myself under control. "Please continue the punishment, Master."

"Very good. We'll move on to the next element of your punishment in a few moments, but first you must explain to all present in your own words what you agreed to concerning your dining accommodations and how you breached that agreement. you will then confirm which penalty you have chosen and what the limitations are on your punishment."

i realized i would be stuck in my current agony until i did exactly as He said, so i made a huge mental effort to bypass the pain and concentrate on my words, telling the guests how Master had allowed me to eat three meals a week at the table as long as i behaved like a lady and that i had been inexcusably clumsy and splattered sauce all over everything and had begged Master not to take away my table privileges but to punish me severely instead and that there were no limits and He could do whatever He wanted with me because i deserve it! i was panting with pain and exhaustion by the time i ran out of words and resumed weeping. In the back of my mind, of course, there was full awareness that whatever followed this part of the punishment would be even worse, but when you're in the throes of any kind of torment you can only think of making it stop.

Master nodded, so i guess my words sufficed. When He rose and came over to me, my initial reaction was abject joy! But when He reached for the nipple clamps i remembered they'd been on there for well over an hour and this was really going to HURT!

He released both clamps at once! i screamed at the top of my lungs as my body hurled itself backwards, the stocks nearly yanking my head off. It was like taking a branding iron on both breasts! i danced and spun, gasping and mewling until the pain receded. Master opened the stock to free my neck and wrists, then helped me to a chair so i could rest a few minutes while He prepared the next punishment. oriana and mya, Master Jason's two slaves, removed the French maid costume and the heels. Now everyone in the house was elegantly dressed except me. i've rarely felt so naked, even when on display in the Exhibition Hall of the Iron Collar Club. In that situation, even though all the spectators milling around and gawking at you are dressed, you have comfort in the knowledge that elsewhere in the Hall there are other exhibits just as naked as you.

It seemed like only a minute before Master came back for me, along with Master Logan. They each took an elbow and escorted me down the stairs to the dungeon room where everyone was milling around waiting for me. A padded sawhorse had been set up in the middle of the room. Two of the men, Master Blaine and Tom, were standing beside it holding ropes. i was bent over the saw horse and the two men with the ropes quickly lashed my wrists to the bottom of the sawhorse legs while Master and Logan did the same with my ankles. This immobilized me with my ass in the air, my entire backside available for punishment and my sex exposed for whatever. At least my sore tits were out of harm's way for the time being, i thought. Then i felt a wet brush stroking my pussy. For the first few seconds it was a pleasant sensation, but soon it began to burn. They were painting Flexall on my most tender tissues! Oh my God in heaven! It was as bad as molten wax, except that the burning went on and on!

While i was twisting and grunting and trying to deal with it, i noticed that my audience had gathered in a circle around me. Next thing i knew, they were marching around me chanting "Oh ee oh," the bad witch's soldiers' song from "The Wizard of Oz" and beating me to the rhythm of it. They used everything! Floggers, whips, crops, canes, rulers, switches, rubber hoses, leather belts, bamboo, cat-o-nine-tails! Several blows landed at once with every beat of the chanting, on my back and bottom and thighs and calves. i was in a cacophony of pain, screaming and crying and tugging uselessly against the ropes. i guess Master must have been watching because just as i could feel myself starting to pass out, it all stopped. Well, not the burning, but the all the whipping and caning and stuff.

Someone put a blindfold on me and several things were pumped in and out of my cunt and ass, some of them warm and human, some cold and rubbery, others stiff and vegetable. A vibrator was applied to my clit until i came. i could feel my juices running down my leg. They left me there for a while with two objects thrust deep inside me, a dildo and some sort of vegetable, letting the pain of the Flexall fade to a frantic itch, while they set up my next torture.

After an interval of ominous clanking and scraping sounds coming from somewhere beside me, i felt the objects slide out of my two southern entrances and the ropes being loosened that bound me to the sawhorse. Unseen hands stood me up and the blindfold was removed.

What i saw didn't look all that frightening. There was a metal pipe frame with a wooden board across the top set at waist level. Sticking up through holes in the board was a bunch of small leather loops and a couple of straps. A rope dangled down from the ceiling in front of the board.

Someone took the sawhorse out of the way and Master led me over to where the rope hung down. my first thought was that it was just for tying my hands over my head. It wasn't until Master tied my hair to the rope that i considered the purpose of the board. Close up i could see that there were actually two sets of five loops and a couple of other straps. When ordered to push my fingers and thumbs into the loops, i still hadn't imagined what lay in store, although my belly began to tighten when my wrists were belted down fast against the board and the rope tied into my hair began tugging me up to my tiptoes. The fear mounted when Master attached those same awful clamps to my nipples and connected them with chains to the board in front of me. Still i had not a clue as to what was to come until Master began passing out sterilized needles to all the guests and they began filing toward me.

O God! Then i panicked! Master Tom was the first in line and when he pushed that first needle under my fingernail, the pain was so excruciating that i screamed and begged them to stop. But they kept coming! As each additional needle went in, my body jerked involuntarily, causing my hair to be yanked and the clamps to bite more savagely into my nipples as the chains snapped taut. By the time all twelve pins had been inserted under my fingernails, i was blinded by tears, half out of my mind with pain, and afraid i would pass out and rip my hair out by the roots. To make matters worse, i threw up all over myself!

One of the slaves — tatyana, the Ukrainian girl who belongs to Master Logan — was ordered to hose me down, which she did with COLD water! Then Master came up beside me with two more needles. Long ones, and much thicker than the others!

"Oh no, Master! Please!" i was begging unashamedly, my eyes filling with tears, my body beginning to shake as i imagined these monsters being shoved under my fingernails to join the dozen already bristling there!

He just smiled.

"Remember," He said, "this was your choice."

But instead of adding to the pain raging in my fingers, He began slowly inserting one of the needles into the side of my left breast. i remember screaming endlessly as this incredible new pain went on and on. The pain and the ghastly sight of the needle pushing through my breast and emerging through the skin on the other side made the world dissolve into a pinpoint and disappear. Master tried to revive me twice, but the combination of pain from my fingers and breast, and the weight of my body tearing at my hair and nipples would send me off again. They finally had to take me down and remove all the clamps and needles.

The gang bang that followed after Master tended to my various punctures was, in a sense, a reward for my endurance. i was strapped to a table, my wrists and ankles bound together and pulled over my head, with both pussy and anus fair game to all our twelve guests. i was blindfolded again so i don't know who did what to me, but the sliding and hammering of their cocks and the soft wetness of their tongues brought me to multiple orgasms that erased the lingering pain. Thank God Master did not make me ask permission to cum.

But my punishment wasn't over yet. The worst part — in its way even worse than the needles — came at the very end when Master tied me in the bathtub and put my head into a block with wooden dowels on each side that screwed inward, pushing into my ears so that i couldn't move my head at all. Then He inserted one of those dental spreaders in my mouth to hold it wide open. i thought i would go into shock when the next thing He did was to invite everyone, even the subs, to come in and use me as a toilet. Every single one of them took Him up on it! And after all that drinking, there was plenty of piss to empty into my mouth. i had to swallow a lot of it, too, or drown. It was by far the most humiliating and disgusting punishment I've ever been put through. They call this kind of play "water sports," and i can only hope that my dear Master does not see fit to demand it of me too often.

Still, if it pleases Him, i will suffer it. Whatever use He chooses for me, i will do it. Whatever pain He decides i must bear, i will bear it. Sometimes, in the weakness of my flesh i beg for mercy; but in the center of my soul i expect none. i want none. i am a loving and obedient tool for Master's pleasure. That is the beginning and the end of it.

Chapter 13

God! she was magnificent! A perfect blend of weakness and strength! she has a low threshhold of pain — screaming and writhing so sensuously in her torments, crying buckets of tears! Withstanding the ungodly agony of the needles under her fingernails, only to pass out as I inserted the big needle through her breast. Just goes to show: the mind is a bigger wimp than the body.

I read her journal entry the next day, thinking maybe the water sports thing at the end had damaged her resolve. What she went through, after all, is pretty tough stuff. I was pleased to see that once again my original assessment was correct. she hated it, and she loved it, as I knew she would. she was able to assimilate it into the reality of her situation, which is that she has no choice but to endure it. So far I have not had to remind her of the absolute finality of her commitment. She seems not only to have grasped it, but to relish it. Of course even if she changes her mind, I will never grant her her freedom. She will die as my slave or she will be sold, but she will remain a slave for the rest of her life. That's what the Contract says and that's what it means.

Logan and Jason were particularly impressed by anna's performance and we agreed that it would be fun to devise a party that tested all four of our slaves at once: tatyana, oriana, mya and anna. It was just a matter of finding a convenient time. Logan had some ideas that called for an outdoor venue, so we figured we'd better wait until spring. That gave us plenty of time to plan.

In the meantime there were lots of opportunities to play with our pretty toys, even though anna was maddeningly conscientious about behaving flawlessly at the table and everywhere else, depriving me of opportunities for delivering further severe punishments. I guess I had overdone it; she had really learned her lesson. However, this was the time of year when the Club outdid itself with special theme events. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas, New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day.

Halloween was particularly fun. I joined forces with Logan and Jake to set up a really diabolical exhibit. Logan's Ukranian acquisition, tatyana, was the centerpiece. She was hanging from the middle of a long bar suspended from the ceiling, her wrists chained to the bar, her legs splayed apart with chains bolted to the floor. Chained to opposite ends of the bar was anna on her left and julie on her right, both in strappado, their arms lashed behind them at the wrists and elbows, and pulled up by the chains so tautly that they had to bend forward and stand on their toes. Actually, they were standing tiptoe on only one foot because we had tied cords from the big toe of their other foot to clamps on tatyana's nipples and had shortened the cords so that it pulled that leg up off the floor, forcing them to balance awkwardly, trying not to tug too hard on tatyana's tortured nipples. For her part, tatyana was straddling a triangular beam with a broom at one end, one point of the triangle biting into her cunt. she could hoist herself up off it by her wrist chains to relieve the pain, but that increased the pull on her nipple clamps and would last only as long as her trembling arm muscles could stand it . To add to her misery, every time she sank on to the "broomstick" again it closed a switch which sent a shock to copper electrodes strapped into anna's and julie's vaginas. They, in turn, were miked so that if they made any sound as a result of the sudden intense pain, it triggered a voice-activated switch that sent an equally brutal shock into an identical copper stim strapped into tatyana. The resulting dance among the three as they tried to spare each other from the painful shocks was marvelous to watch and drew a great crowd. tatanya, her arms tiring more quickly with every round, would drop on the sharp edge of the triangular broomstick which would send a painful voltage into the other two girls. They would gasp and jump, their suspended legs jerking downwards as they lost their balance, provided tatyana with the double agonies of a shock deep in her womb and a fierce pull on her burning nipples. she would cry and writhe until she could summon the presence of mind and strength to pull herself back up off the sharp edge of the triangle. All three made a stupendous effort to minimize the frequency of this chain of events, but it was hopeless.

For the Christmas party I devised a rather charming display that turned anna into a Christmas tree base. I laid her face up on a wooden platform with her arms stretched out beside her. I nailed leather straps over her wrists and arms to hold her in place. Then I raised her legs up, over her head and down to the other end of the platform, spreading them wide and tying her feet down to the platform. This position left her doubled over with her sex high in the air and open for business. Earlier in the day I had fashioned a wooden dildo with a hole in the base. I now pushed the dildo deep into her cunt and inserted the trunk of a small plastic Christmas tree into the hole. To stabilize it, I ran some guy wires between the tree and the platform on one side and anna's nipples on the other. Boxes of ornaments were placed around the display and the Club members and guests were invited to decorate the tree. It was a simple but beautiful exhibit. Even anna liked it, admitting that it was the least stressful display I had ever designed for her. she practically raped me that night in her effort to show her appreciation.

Actually, anna had been putting gentle pressure on me to allow her to have regular admission to my bed. It's the one topic that kept recurring during her nightly free speech sessions.

"Master," she would say, "i love you so! It means so much to me to feel your body next to mine. Please let me sleep with you more often. You may whip me harder during my nightly punishments, if you like, and i won't complain if i can just shed my tears on your pillow and feel the warmth of your breath on my neck. Please, dear Master!"

That sort of thing is hard to resist.

Another subject that kept coming up was her desire to be able to let me know when she was really horny and wanted sex. (The rule was that only I could initiate sex, whether with me or anyone else.) I gave her two silent signals that would allow her to transmit her desire while assuring her of humiliation if I chose not to accept. If she wanted straightforward sex, she would have to lie on the floor in front of me and spread her legs wide. If she wanted doggie style sex, she would have to get down on her elbows and knees and point her ass at me. Humiliation or not, she did it often. Horny little slut!

As to the increase in her bed privileges, that, I told her, would depend on how well she performed during the special springtime party I had planned with my friends. She practically jumped up and down promising me I would not be disappointed.

 

anna's journal, January 2

If only Master's ingenuity for the Exhibition Hall at the Iron Collar Club were always as sweet as the Christmas display. There was pain, of course, in staying tied down in that position for so long, but the sensations inside my pussy as the tree was jostled when the ornaments were attached was extraordinary and made me cum right there in front of everybody in the hall. It was a little embarrassing, although i'll take embarrassing orgasms anytime over the kind of pain i suffered with julie and tatyana during the Halloween exhibit. Oh my God! i still remember the pain of those shocks deep inside me and how hard it was not to make any noises when they hit, or give in to the burning in my legs so i could hold my left leg up longer to spare tatyana's nipples and stay up on my right toes to spare my agonized shoulders.

And last night's New Year's Eve exhibit was no better. Master had ordered me to string together a whole box of clothes pins spaced about three inches apart. i knew what they were for, of course, and that it was REALLY going to hurt. Being forced to contribute to your own torture creates a special apprehension that's both exciting and terrifying, like having to haul that heavy wooden cross on my knees the length of the beach knowing it was for my own crucifixion. Meanwhile, Master was welding together a heavy iron triangle, about three feet to a side, with an iron collar on one point and iron shackles on the other two points. He welded a ring to the center of each side.

At our display station in the Exhibition Hall of the Club, Master had me strip naked and lie down on the floor where he clamped the iron collar around my neck and locked it in place with bolts. He did the same with my ankles, bolting the shackles in place. He put iron cuffs on my wrists and padlocked them to the rings on the two sides of the triangle between my head and feet. This left me with my legs bent and spread wide, my knees close to my hands, my back somewhat arched. He spent a few minutes amusing the other Masters by tipping me into a sitting position, then on to one side and then the other. When i complained that the hard tile floor was hurting my back, He stuffed a rag in my mouth and covered it with several windings of duct tape around my head. To punish me for my whining He left me on my back under the heavy iron triangle for half an hour where I could only roll a little from one side to the other for relief. But at the official opening time for the exhibition he hung a block and tackle from a ceiling hook and connected it to the ring between my feet. Then He hoisted the triangle up, suspending me about three feet off the floor. I was mostly inverted and was swinging freely, spinning at the slightest shove. He took one end of the string of clothes pins i had prepared and clamped the first clothes pin next to my left nipple. The rest of the chain of pins went into a sack which He hung from a safety pin He pushed through the outside of that same breast. Oh my God, did that hurt! A sign was set up (which i had also been required to make on the computer) inviting every passing member and guest to attach the next two available clothes pins to me. You can guess where the first two went. After that the pins marched in circles around both tits, down my middle, around my navel and down to my wide open sex, crowding along the inner and outer labia on both sides, then continuing down and up my inner thighs, then up my right side under that arm, then back across my burning breasts and down and up the other arm and back to my boobs, where the supply finally ran out. All this time i had kept a death grip on the side bars of the triangle, straining to hold myself up so i could at least relieve the bite of the iron collar and shackles into my flesh. By the time the bell signaled the close of the exhibition period, between the burning in my arm muscles and the increasing agony from the endless pins i was in tears. There's no use trying to hold them back; Master likes to see that He hasn't been too soft on me.

Everyone gathered around for the grand finale. i did my best to prepare mentally for what was coming next, but there's no way! Master did the "zipper" by taking the end of the connecting string and running the length of the hall. As the pins ripped off, i screamed through my gag and kicked and thrashed in my iron restraints from the terrible pain that roared through my body like fire following a line of gasoline! i guess i must have put on a good show because as my spasms quieted down to shudders, everyone applauded.

Now Master says he and four of his friends are planning something even better for the spring. It won't be an exhibit at the Club, He says, and will involve six slaves altogether: Master Logan's tatyana, Master Tom's kristina, Master Peter's pixie, and Master Jason's two slaves, oriana and mya.

It will be fun to see pixie again. Back when i was in training, Master and i used to hang out a lot with her and her Master, Peter Arnson. i guess he's kinda rich because they've been off on a long cruise around the world, dropping in at bdsm clubs in a dozen different countries. Master had said Peter might sell her at one of the slave markets in Thailand or Cambodia. Trade her for a younger model. But i think He was just trying to scare me. His way of letting me know i'm expendable. pixie is a cutie pie. she's probably 5'1 and in her late twenties. Can't weigh more than a hundred pounds. she's what i think of as a "black Irish beauty." she has flawless alabaster skin, pure black hair and clear blue eyes. A cute little voice, too, almost like a child's. In fact, you might mistake her for a child except for her luscious boobs and pubic hair. Unlike the rest of us whose Master's make us shave clean, her Master likes to snuggle in that thick, black, neatly trimmed triangle.

mya still scares me a little. she's so big and strong! 'Course there's that time she tricked me into pissing on the floor when Master was punishing me. But i have to say, she was exciting afterwards when we were all on the bed. she told me later that Master had ordered her to make sure i peed on the floor so that i would be thoroughly humiliated, and that her Master had ordered her to do whatever my Master commanded her to do. So i can't blame her. As a proper slave, i would have done the same. Furthermore, she was very gentle and kind to me during that awful punishment party. So i guess i should give her a break.

oriana is her physical opposite. Maybe that's what Master Jason had in mind when He bought her. The contrast. He started out with dainty little oriana, who's an inch shorter than i am, and added statuesque mya later. Bought her from a Master at an S&M club in Virginia. It must be interesting alternating between elf and amazon. i find them both incredibly sexy. i happen to know from personal experience that mya's a sexual tiger, and although i haven't been with oriana yet, i've given Master some not-too-subtle hints that i'd like to.

As for kristina, she and Master Tom, along with pixie and Master Peter, were among my very first friends in the lifestyle. i'll never forget how kristina took that terrible beating with the belt to show me how brave a slave must be, then gave me my first experience in girl-girl love. she's a sweetheart!

Master has given no clue as to what the spring ordeal will be, but my deepest hope is that i'll surpass all His expectations so that He'll allow me to sleep with Him in His bed. O God! Let Him test me to the death, if only He will accept me into his bed! Well, almost to the death. What's the use of sleeping with your lover if you're dead?

Chapter 14

I had skipped Hanukkah and had no interest in St. Patrick's Day and all that shit, but I couldn't resist Valentine's Day, that scabrous holiday invented by Hallmark for the enlargement of its profits. The Club threw a Valentine's party that cried out for sardonic participation.

The idea for it came to me when I passed a display window in a furniture store. That led me to make the rounds of second hand shops until I found an old-fashioned mattress box-spring, the kind where the steel springs are not sheathed in quilting but exposed like a nasty metal web that cries out, "Don't put your bare body on me or I'll chew it to pieces."

And that, of course, is exactly what I did. I entered an exhibit featuring anna lying naked on her back atop the bare springs, her wrists strapped to the steel cables along both edges. Next I opened her legs to a wide V, strapped her ankles to a spreader and hauled her feet high in the air with ropes through an eye bolt in the ceiling. I set a large pot of water on a single burner heating element beside the box spring, brought it to a boil and dropped in three-hundred-twenty two-inch needles, each one sporting a little plastic flag with the words "i Love my Master" hand-printed on it. anna had spent most of the preceding day creating the little devils along with a very attractive sign now attached with a safety pin to her left calf which identified the display as Master Daniel's Valentine Pincushion, adding, Please help slave anna show her love for her Master . Now she reaped the reward of her labors. As the members and guests filed by she asked every one of them (as required) to scoop out several pins from the boiling water (using a strainer conveniently supplied) and insert them anywhere on her body. Then she thanked each of them for adding to her bristling coat of flags, many of which found their way to her breasts, inner thighs and wide open pussy, but also to more imaginative spots, like her tender feet, her lips, her armpits and even under her toenails. Actually, I was impressed by her fortitude. Despite her ever increasing torment and the tears rolling down her cheeks, she was able to do her duty, asking them to add to her torture and then thanking them, including those who brushed their hands across the forest of needles to make her scream. she really wanted to earn a permanent place in my bed.

she did well, but she still had to pass the test I had planned for the spring.

Logan, Jason and I set the date for a weekend in May at Logan's very private getaway farmstead in Dayton, Maine. It was no longer a functioning farm but the barn was still there and many pieces of equipment were still in usable shape. In addition, Logan had modified certain features of the original farm and added some new equipment for training and playing with his two slaves. News of our plans soon leaked out, however, and before long my old friends Tom Atkins and Peter Arnson were all over us, hoping to be included in the fun. Hell, why not? kristina and pixie, would make nice additions to the sexual mix as well as the down-on-the-farm amusements we were planning. Besides, it had been over a year since I'd had a chance to fuck pixie. she's a hot little thing. Exceptionally beautiful. I could hardly believe it when Pete told me he came close to putting her up for sale. He'd recently returned from Cambodia where he'd attended some underground slave markets and had his eye on some of the exquisite young virgins they were selling for premium prices. But instead of selling Pixie he decided, "If old Jason can keep more than one slave, why can't I?" So he took an option on one of the older girls, a seventeen year old beauty named Pang, and is having her checked for STDs, AIDS and any other medical disqualifiers before closing the deal. By the time she ships, she'll be eighteen, old enough to be brought into the US legally for sex without his having to marry her. Apparently her family is delighted at the price she fetched, a fortune for them, and has promised to make sure the girl understands her slavery contract is for ten years and that she will be absolutely obedient for the entire ten years. In that part of Asia — Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam, Bengladesh — when girls are sold into the slave market by families and boyfriends, they usually wind up finishing their lives in various hell-hole brothels, beaten into submission by their owners. By comparison, Jason figured, this girl was one lucky slave.

For the long Friday evening trip to the farm, Jason and I teamed up to use his SUV. We stripped anna and julie and sat them back to back on the middle seat hugging their knees. We bound their wrists to their ankles, then used ropes to cinch their doubled up legs tightly so they couldn't straighten them. We ran a leather thong around their necks to hold them head to head. They could barely move without choking each other. Finally we buckled the seat belts around them so we'd be nice and legal. Looking in from the outside through the shaded windows nothing seemed remiss. Unless you noticed their bare breasts. But just in case we were stopped, all the ties had slip knots and I sat in the third row so I could release them in a hurry and throw them blankets if need be. As for being nude, the girls would tell the cop they had taken us up on a dare. As it happened, we got lots of second takes and a few cars hung alongside for quite a while, gawking at the show. But no one called 911. Our slaves, both of them having become shameless exhibitionists, thought the whole thing was quite funny and exciting. For about twenty minutes. Until the discomfort of their tight bondage became grueling.

"You'd better toughen up," I advised them when they began to fuss. "This is the cushiest part of your weekend." That got an eye roll out of julie. anna just sighed and bit her lip.

By prearrangement, we met with the others at an isolated mom-and-pop gas station near the corner of Route 5 and Hollis Road in Maine, about twenty miles from our destination. It was owned by Hal Pelletier, a friend of Logan's who was more than happy to oblige us as we assembled our naked herd of slaves in his tiny store. He had enjoyed fun and games at Logan's place on earlier occasions and was looking forward to joining us there this weekend, especially after he got a load of our toys.

The sun had disappeared behind the trees and the outside light was turning murky by the time we finished pairing the six girls into three teams. Our aim was to match heights as much as possible. mya at five-foot-ten was the tallest, so she was paired with kristina who, at five-seven, came the closest. Next we combined the two smallest girls, pixie and oriana who were five-one and five-three, respectively. That left anna and tatyana at five-four and five-six. We had each pair stand at attention while we sealed their hands to their thighs with duct tape. Then we put them back to back and bound them together by winding the tape around the ankles, knees, thighs (over their hands), elbows (under their breasts), and shoulders (above their breasts). We wound tape over their mouths, binding their heads together and gagging them at the same time. The tape running across their cheeks kept them from being able to turn their heads. In the case of kristina and mya where there was a three inch difference in height, two wrappings were required. The first wrap went over kristina's mouth and around mya's neck; the second over mya's mouth and kristina's eyes. A most unpleasant togetherness for them. Thus bound, none of the pairs was able to move, except for a slight side to side bending. Each girl's body acted as a splint on her partner.

We picked up each pair and carried it like a warm, squirming log out to Logan's pickup truck. We laid them on their sides on the bed of the truck, still gritty from its last load of gravel. The three girl-logs packed in nice and tight.

"Should we throw a tarp over them?" Peter asked.

Logan shook his head. "Nah. Traffic on this road is pretty thin. You guys will be following the truck so no one will get a prolonged look at the cargo. And even if they do, no one'll believe what they're looking at."

So we had a good laugh, closed up the tail gate, and off we went.

 

anna's journal, May 12

For the first time since starting this journal i've had to skip a few days, but i'm not going to apologize. Master knows perfectly well how tied up i was, because He was the one who tied me! It was a really, really hard weekend and i'm still sore in a lot of places, but i think i passed the test, so it was all worth it. Not that i ever have any choice. Or want any. If such suffering on my part gives my Master pleasure, i look on it as an opportunity to prove myself worthy of Him.

The only fun part was the first part of the trip in Master Jason's Dodge Caravan. They had julie and me trussed up and sitting back to back in the middle seat with me on the driver's side. The looks on the faces of the guys who passed us on my side were priceless. You could see their eyes widen as they realized i was naked. i thought a few of them would drive off the road! i'm pretty sure no one could see the ropes that bound us up, but just to make sure, the Masters had ordered us to smile at everyone so they'd know julie and i were not being abducted. Some of the chicks who spotted us smiled back, but most of the women took on a horrified look and quickly turned away. No doubt everyone thought we were just a couple of bimbos screwing around. And no wonder! Master had tied our arms behind us so all we could do was smile and brandish our tits at them.

We had one scare, though. We had just crossed into Maine on I-95 when Master Jason, who was driving, spotted a police cruiser coming up fast behind us. Master Daniel, who sitting in the rear seat, told us what to say if we were stopped. We were to tell the cop we were two couples heading for a romantic weekend in Maine and that the men had dared us to take off our clothes and ride naked. He said He had tied us up with slip knots and could get us out of our bondage in thirty seconds if He needed to. Then he draped a blanket over us. As it turned out, the cop had other fish to fry and whipped right on by us with only a glance.

As uncomfortable as it was to be hogtied like that for a couple of hours, the last leg of the trip was much worse. We waited in the parking lot of a little store until the rest of the group arrived; then they marched all six of us slaves into the store. The owner, a guy named Hal, was obviously in on it because he locked up the place, drew the blinds and wandered around feeling us up as our Masters prepared us. He was short (about my height), probably in his late fifties and pot bellied with graying puffs of hair over his ears and forming a fuzzy arc around an island of scalp populated by a few wispy white hairs. The Masters divided us into pairs, trying to match up our heights. mya was the tallest, of course, and they paired her up with kristina, the next tallest. pixie and oriana were the shortest, which left me paired with tatyana. we were informed that these pairings would be maintained through the weekend and each two-girl team would be pitted against the others in a series of competitions that would be fun for the Masters and would determine which of the slave teams would have a good Sunday and which would not.

They put each pair of women back to back and bound us tightly together with tape so that we couldn't move. They carried us out to a pickup truck and crammed us into the back of it on our sides. tatyana and i were jammed up against the left side. i was facing inward with pixie's forehead mashed up against my mouth, but poor tatyana behind me was pressed up against the metal wall of the truck bed. It was bad enough that the floor we were lying on was a mass of sharp pebbles from whatever had been there before us, but the outside girls also had to put up with having their face and boobs bounced off the rough metal walls. mya got the honors on the other side; i could just see the curly blond top of her head as she struggled to keep her face away from wall. i don't know how many millions of miles we traveled in that damn truck but the road must have been a mess of patchwork and potholes because we bumped and jounced brutally, and it went on and on. When we eventually turned off on to a dirt road, it got much worse! i could hear tatyana behind me groaning and weeping with every jolt as her nose banged against the metal.

But we finally reached the farm. That's when the true ordeal began.

They offloaded us inside a big barn and ripped off the tape. The worst part, of course, was where it was plastered to our hair! Then They handcuffed our wrists behind us and connected each slave to her partner with a chain, about a foot long, clipped to our collars. Another pair of shackles joined us by an ankle, and to ensure our complete bonding as a team, our inside elbows were also tied together.

The first challenge in dealing with it came when some of the girls complained that their bladders were full. The men had been just waiting for that because we hadn't been able to pee during the entire trip. They led us all out to a large metal tub and made all six of us stand together in the tub as we peed, the piss running down our legs and rising around our feet. After we had all relieved ourselves in this humiliating fashion, they led us back into the barn, our feet still reeking of urine, and lined us up facing a wall where six iron collars hung from chains attached to an overhead beam. The collars were closed around our necks, locked in place with bolts and the chains shortened to prevent us from kneeling. There we stood for the next two or three hours while our Masters went away to dine inside the house.

When it was our turn to eat, the collars were unbolted and we were led into what had been a pig sty and lined up in front of the swilling trough. Master Logan was waiting with a bucket filled with something gray and lumpy and disgusting which He slopped into the trough. we were then ordered to kneel, put our faces into it and eat. Because of the collar chains and elbow bindings, each pair of girls had to synchronize their movements. tatyana and i bent down into the trough and took a little of the stuff into our mouths. my gag reflex came on strong, but i shook it off and swallowed. As best i could determine it was chopped tripe mixed with table scraps (probably scraped off the Masters' plates) stirred into a soupy sludge of oatmeal and milk that had gone slightly sour and aged to room temperature. pixie began gagging and shaking her head, refusing to get near it, much less eat it. Peter, her Master, came up behind her and offered her the option of a severe caning in lieu of dinner, giving her a terrible whack on the bottom with a rattan cane to help her decide. she yelped, scrunched her eyes shut and dove in, gagging and crying. i prayed silently that she wouldn't throw up into it and make it even worse for all of us. As it was, even without the addition of vomit, three more of us — tatyana, oriana and kristina — had to be threatened with caning before we managed to lick the trough clean. Of course if i'd known what my next meal would be like, i'd have choked down this one with more enthusiasm.

By the time we'd finished it was quite dark and getting chilly. we were herded back into the barn where all the chains, shackles and ties were removed. we were allowed about fifteen minutes to exercise our limbs and get ready for our next ordeal. The Masters had worked out three artistic S&M displays using their two-girl teams and Hal was to judge them for "artistic merit." The teams would receive one, two or three points for third, second or first place. It was the beginning of that series of competitions we'd been told about in Hal's store.

Master Logan stood tatyana on a box in front of me and strapped her ankles to a spreader bar. Master Daniel positioned me so i was facing her right side and strapped a spreader bar on my ankles, too. Then he put my hands between tatyana's legs palm-to-palm and tied my wrists tightly together. From somewhere behind me a rough hemp rope was threaded between my legs and Master ran it up through a pulley on an overhead beam directly above tatyana and passed the end of it to Master Logan. Looking up i could see that the rope had come from a pulley in the same beam behind me so that i was straddling it. This was not going to be pleasant. When they pulled it taut, as they surely would, it would burn a path right up into my crotch. Which is what happened. Master Logan had tied tatyana's wrists together in front of her and now attached the rope to it. Behind me someone pulled on the other end of the rope hard. Its fibers tore across my cunt making me scream as tatyana's hands were pulled high over her head. The rope was completely taut, stretching her up vertically and pulling up painfully into me. Master logan looped another rope around tatyana's neck and down to my lashed wrists. i was ordered to cup my hands over tatyana's crotch and insert the middle finger of my right hand into her vagina. Then Master Logan pulled the rope up tight so that i couldn't take my hands away from tatyana's pussy. Then came the damn nipple clamps, both to mine and tatyana's, with cords connecting us together. Without warning Master Logan kicked the box out from under tatyana's feet and suddenly she was hanging by her wrists from a rope through my cunt that was almost lifting me off the floor! The pain was incredible! i screamed again and pushed up on her crotch to take some of her weight off the rope. That maneuver caused the cords connecting our nipples to snap taut and we both screamed from the fresh source of pain, but for me it was slightly less painful than the rope digging into my cunt. i don't know what effect my fingernail was having to the inside of tatyana's love canal, but as long as i could hold her up i was spared the worst of the pain. Trouble was, my muscles soon failed me and i had to drop her. That rope literally lifted me off the floor and soon the tears were streaming down my face. After a few more rounds of lifting and dropping my partner i pleaded with Master to make it stop! Instead he stuffed a sock in my mouth and strapped it in.

i lost track of time in the endless agony of my dilemma, but somewhere during the lifts and drops and screams and tears Hal came in, looked us all over and made his decision. The honors went to mya and kristina. i have no idea what their display was like or how much they suffered; i was only cognizant of an immense slam of pain when the clamps were taken off my nipples and swooning into Master's arms when the rope in my cunt went slack.

i guess Master must have pushed my head between my legs because i was kind of standing on my head when i came back to my senses. my tits had recovered from the clamps but my pussy was sore as hell. Next thing i knew, Master had handcuffed me to tatyana again and was pushing us toward one of the old stalls in the barn. Master Logan had rebuilt it into three small cages and tatyana and i were folded into the middle one. It took a bit of doing because it was not really large enough for two human bodies, but our Masters somehow crammed us into it. we could hardly move. "Nighty night," Master said. "Don't let the bedbugs bite."

i wish He wouldn't have said that. The floor of the cage was covered with old hay, which was only marginally better than a bare floor. It itched like crazy! They turned out the lights and we were left in pitch blackness. The other girls were on both sides of us and spent much of the night moaning and sniffling and crying. pixie and oriana had it the worst. Poor pixie threw up her dinner all over herself . When you're packed in like sardines, or twenty circus clowns in a Volkswagon, there's not much you can do in the way of evasive action. The stench must have been horrible for them because what wafted over to tatyana and me was bad enough. As the hours dragged by the temperature dropped significantly. tatyana and i hugged each other for warmth, but we were attacked by swarms of insects, which in the morning we discovered were tiny black flies. Our bodies were on fire with their bites by the time the men came to let us out. The itching was so bad i wanted to tear my skin off. i don't think we slept more than two hours total.

Breakfast was more swill in the trough, this time without the tripe, thank God. pixie managed to get a little of it down, but Peter, her owner, took pity on her and let her sit out breakfast. After we had consumed the slop in the trough and lapped some water out of a bucket, the Masters laid out newspapers on the barn floor for us to defecate on. we had to piss and shit as the men watched, then our partners had to clean our ass with straw. Oh God! i have never been so humiliated! Why has this been so hard for me to accept? My internal waste does not belong to me any more than any other part of my body. It belongs to my owner. If he wants the world to see and smell me poop it out, why should i feel shame? Shame is an arbitrary concept we're taught from childhood. It's a useless emotion for a slave.

After we had emptied our bowels and bladders, we had to scrub each other with a stiff bristled brush (which would have been torturous except for the itchy bug bites) and then be hosed down by the Masters in the frigid morning air.

"These girls are cold," someone said. "Look at them shiver! They need to get some exercise!"

That was the signal to begin the day's horrors.

During it all, i kept reminding myself, "This is how you will earn permission to sleep in Master's bed!" O God, how i wanted to get off the floor and lie next to Him! i would do whatever it took, suffer whatever i had to.

They had removed the neck and wrist restraints after breakfast. Now they fitted each of us with heavy leg irons ("so you won't be able to run away"). More likely it was because they thought it erotic to see us clanking around half hobbled trying to carry out our first task, which was to load up a hay wagon with the stuff they planned to torture us with that day. The wagon was an antique affair with iron-rimmed wooden wheels almost up to my shoulders. To begin with, we had to carry solid cement blocks from a pile in the barn out to the wagon about thirty feet away where the men spread them out evenly on the wagon bed. They had work clothes, gloves and shoes. we were naked and had to pick up the blocks with our bare hands and cradle them in our bare arms against our bare boobs as we walked them over on our bare feet. They probably weighed about thirty-five pounds each. By the time they were all loaded, which took ten or twelve trips, my skin was scraped raw in several places. mya was the least chewed up by that operation because she was strong enough to carry the blocks in the palm of her hands away from her body.

The next things to go into the wagon were three heavy oak sleds, or "sledges" as the Masters referred to them. They looked like big ugly ski-boards — flat, runnerless platforms with an angled front edge. It didn't take a genius to figure out what use they would be put to. Or rather, what use we would be put to. Then came chains and ropes and shackles and a whole bunch of other stuff i didn't want to think about.

When the loading was finished, the Masters removed our leg irons and fitted each team with an iron yoke. Master Daniel had devised them and welded them together in his shop. Each yoke consisted of a bar with wrist shackles on the ends and hoops for our breasts. These were tight hoops and the girls with biggest boobs had them pulled painfully into the hoops by the nipples. The bar was anchored in place by heavy rusty chains that cris-crossed over our shoulders and backs. The three teams of yoked girls were lined up in front of the wagon with mya and kristina out front, tatyana and me in the middle, and pixie and oriana behind us. Leather bridles with snaffle bits (also hand-made by my Master) were strapped on to the heads of the lead team and the long wooden tongue of the wagon was lifted between the two girls of each team and secured to our yokes with chains. Leather traces were run from the ends of the three yokes to what they called a "whiffletree" at the front of the wagon. Two of the Masters and Hal had seated themselves in the wagon with Master Logan in the driver's seat up front. He was holding the four reins from mya's and kristina's bits to steer them. More ominously, He also had a long bull whip and gave us a demonstration of His prowess by cracking it overhead several times. i could see tatyana cringing beside me. she was personally acquainted with that whip.

"He wouldn't actually crack it on us, would He?" i whispered to tatyana.

"Oh yes He would!" she whispered back.

As if on cue, Master Logan bellowed, "All right, we're starting off. I want to see every one of you miserable slaves putting in a one hundred and ten percent effort or you'll feel the kiss of my long tailed friend here. I guarantee it will motivate any slackers among you. Ready? Haw!"

i heard the whip sizzle overhead and saw it snap with a loud report on mya's right shoulder blade. she screamed, lunging into her yoke, her terrified partner hustling to match her! Another crack! tatyana screamed beside me and threw herself against her yoke. i pushed as hard as i could, trying to ignore the pain in my feet from the gravel road. By pushing hard with my wrists against the flat of the shackles i was able to keep the metal breast hoops from ramming too painfully into the soft tissue there. Another crack and someone behind me screamed! The wagon began to roll.

"Move your ass, you lazy sluts!" Master Logan yelled, "or I'll tear your skin off!"

i saw the bull whip snake overhead and snap against kristina's back in front of me. she screamed and i watched an angry red welt rise up in the center of her back as i leaned into the yoke, pushing as hard as i could, hoping my effort would spare me the wrath of the whip. It didn't. The sound of the crack and the explosion of pain were simultaneous! It was like being burned with the pointed flame of a blow torch! i nearly dropped to my knees from the shock of it and i'm sure i screamed like the others, but i kept pushing in a desperate fear that He'd do it again if i faltered. i think He gave all of us a taste of the whip to make sure we all worked equally hard as we pulled the wagon and its heavy load for what seemed like miles. The whip cracked overhead every time one of us stumbled. Behind me, pixie was crying in her terror, afraid that being the smallest and weakest of us she would draw the next strike. But only kristina received another; that was when she stubbed her toes on a rock and fell to her knees momentarily. tatyana, laboring fiercely with eyes to the ground, nearly fell over her. But we managed to keep the wagon rolling and our skin mostly intact from the savage bite of the bull whip.

Our destination turned out to be a clearing at the top of a densely wooded hillside. The teams were disengaged from the wagon and our yokes removed. Then it was back to lugging cement blocks. The Masters had lined up the three sledges side by side at the edge of the road facing a freshly mown meadow. The slaves pulled the blocks off the wagon and piled them on the sledges, ten to each. Now each slave was fitted with a new individual yoke. This version was a heavy wood stock that clamped around our necks and our wrists. Each team was stationed in front of one of the sledges and were hitched to it with big old rusty chains. i looked across the open field in front of us and saw a couple of poles with a ribbon strung between them at the far side. It was pretty obvious what they were going to make us do. i glanced dolefully at tatyana who looked as though she might burst into tears. i couldn't let her wimp out now; my future sleeping arrangements were on the line!

"Come on, girl," i said to her. "we can do this. The others are just as tired as we are, and kristina has a hurt toe. If this is some kind of a race, we're going to win it, you hear?"

she nodded glumly.

"All right," Master Daniel announced. "This next competition will test each team's strength and determination. Keep in mind that the more points your team accumulates, the more pleasant your final day at the farm will be. The fewer points, the more dreadful. And slave anna has an additional reason to excel, don't you, anna."

"Yes, Master," i mumbled.

"So remember, she's the one to beat if you want to avoid extreme suffering tomorrow."

Oh i do love my Master, but why did He have to do that to me?! This was hard enough without siccing everyone on me. Of course, it was no secret at the Club that i yearned to sleep with Master on a regular basis and that doing well this weekend was part of the deal, but did He have to remind them?

But the damage had been done, so i took a deep breath and leaned into the yoke a little to figure out the least punishing position for pulling the sledge. The chain was attached to an eye bolt under the yoke so we could make it push against our shoulders if we leaned forward at a sharp angle. Our hands were nearly useless for pushing because they were trapped in the yoke on the same side as our heads. Pushing our arms hard into the wrist hole would help but it might prove extremely painful.

"Lean way forward when you push," i said to tatyana. "Get your shoulders as far down as you can so the yoke doesn't choke you, and drive with your legs." she nodded and set her jaw, preparing mentally, i guess, for the ordeal ahead. i looked over at mya and kristina on my left and my heart sank. mya all by herself, with her athletic body and muscular legs, was more than a match for tatyana and me. tatyana's long elegant legs were great to look at but not designed for pulling heavy freight. As for me, Master keeps me skinny by starving me, not by sending me to the gym four hours a day like mya. And my legs were still shaking from the wagon pull and loading the heavy cement blocks on to our sledge.

Each team was assigned a Master as a driver. Since Jason had two slaves representing two different teams, they decided none of the drivers should command a team that included His own slave. What they came up with was Master Peter driving mya and kristina on my left, Master Logan driving pixie and oriana on my right and Master Jason as our driver. Masters Tom and Daniel set off with Hal for the finish line to judge the winners in the event of a photo finish. Masters Peter, Jason and Logan took up positions beside their teams with quirts. This was going to hurt in a lot of different ways!

Someone fired a gun at the finish line and a second later Jason's quirt bit into my ass as he yelled "GO!" i got it first because He was standing on my side, but an instant later i heard tatyana yelp as he whipped her as well. i had already done the math in my head and knew that the sledge's load of ten cement blocks probably weighed 350 pounds. That, plus the sledge itself (at least 50), made about 400 pounds of weight, divided by 2 meant that as long as could synchronize our efforts we were each dragging about 200 pounds of dead weight. mya and kristina took off on my left and were quickly beyond any hope of catching up, but little pixie and oriana (who's about as athletic as i am) were lagging behind on our right. To my alarm, however, tatyana was starting to cry.

"you're doing great, tatyana!" i yelled. "Keep . . ."

"Dig in, you lazy sluts!"

my words turned into a scream as Master Jason lashed us with the quirt. And He kept doing it! Now i was crying as hard as tatyana as i drove my bleeding feet into the rocky dirt and rammed my sore shoulders against the hard wood of the yoke and jammed my arms into the wrist holes, trying to make the whipping stop.

After a lifetime of agony i heard Master Jason yell "Whoa!" and dropped to my knees, my body afire with pain, my only rational thought being a desire to lie down and die. i would have collapsed onto my face, but the chain traces held me up. Someone put a Poland Spring Water bottle into my mouth and i gulped greedily at the cool refreshment. If only they would let me lie down! But they didn't.

"Congratulations to mya and kristina," someone announced. they came in first and won themselves three points. anna and tatyana were second for two points and pixie and oriana, I'm afraid, came in a poor third. You'd better do a lot better on the return run, pixie, oriana, if you don't want to spend Sunday in hell."

The return run?!!! Oh God in heaven! i thought, please let me die right now!

They let us rest for five minutes or so before we had to drag the sledges around for the race back.

I begged Master to let me speak.

"Go ahead," He said with what i hoped was a sympathetic smile.

In my desperation i could feel my eyes tearing up. "Please, Sir, tatyana and i are not as strong as mya and kristina. Please give us a chance! Please do something about the weights. Please make it more fair. Please!"

Master nodded and turned to the other Masters to discuss it. If i hadn't been helplessly yoked, i would have jumped up and kissed Him! Glory to God! They decided i was right, that it was unfair to pit mya's professionally developed hard body against us puny house slaves without some sort of handicap. They also noted that little pixie and delicate oriana had little chance of competing if they weren't also given a reasonable break. After much discussion They took one cement block off my sled and two off pixie's and oriana's and put them on mya's and kristina's. Big fucking deal! But it was better than nothing. By my in-head computation mya's sled now weighed about 505 pounds, ours about 365 pounds and pixie and oriana's about 330 pounds.

i tried hard to be optimistic as the Masters made us turn around and lined us up for the race back, but tatyana was in bad shape. she's a very pretty girl, but no athlete.

"Please, tatyana," i begged, "please do your best. They have terrible tortures in store for the losers tomorrow. Whatever pain you suffer now will be better than what they have planned for tomorrow for the losers."

She burst into tears again, but i think she got the message.

The gun went off at the other end of the run.

i ignored the pain from the quirt on my back and bottom and legs. i ignored the pain on my shoulders and on my arms as i shoved them harder and harder into the yoke. i ignored the burning in my legs and the torture of jamming my feet into the sharp stubble and tiny rocks littering the field. i allowed myself only two thoughts: push harder and keep encouraging tatyana who sobbed continuously but (bless her Ukranian heart!) kept doing her best. i never even noticed that mya and kristina had vanished from my peripheral vision. As tatyana and i dragged our sledge over the finish line and collapsed in exhaustion and agony, i was only aware that we were first.

It was a couple of minutes before i recovered enough wits to absorb the news about our competition. kristina had crumbled after only a few yards, unable to continue despite the thrashing Master Peter was giving her with his quirt. As it turned out, she had broken her toe on that rock back when we were towing the wagon. The yokes required leaning down low and driving with your toes, which was so painful for kristina that she fainted. So no matter how strong mya was, it didn't matter. she couldn't drag the sledge and her partner too. As for pixie and oriana, they simply ran out of juice. Even though they had the lightest load to pull and Master Logan had turned their backs and bottoms into a mass of red stripes with his merciless quirt, they were a full minute behind us, weeping as they strained to haul their sled over the finish line.

Master Daniel (my beautiful Doctor!) revived kristina, splintered her toe, put her in some clothes and took her to Maine Medical Center in Portland for x-rays. i wondered what the tight-ass vanilla doctors at the hospital would do if they caught sight of the welts and bruises all over her backside. But i'm sure kristina had concocted a believable load of shit to account for it. she's a riot to take out in public. The only thing she enjoys more than sex and submitting to Master Tom is doing something flagrantly naughty right under somebody's nose while convincing them that she's as innocent as apple pie.

As kristina was being taken to the hospital the rest of us got crammed into little bitty animal carriers — the plastic carrying case type with wire mesh doors — where we had to stay until her return. Three hours in a space so small we had to curl into a tight fetal position, or a tuck like we were in the middle of a dive from the high board! It was excruciating!

When she finally arrived back, her foot taped up with a built-in lift so she could walk on it, they pulled us out of our carrying cases. But we could hardly stand up. Our overstressed leg muscles had tightened up and screamed at us as we tried to unfold them. The Masters chained our necks together and made us walk in a circle and do stretching exercises for twenty minutes to make our bodies functional again.

As we marched around we pleaded to be allowed to pee. we'd been given a lot of water up there in the field during all that hard labor and our bladders were bursting! The men knew that, of course, and had our next torture ready. They brought us bowls filled with oyster crackers and ordered us to pee into the bowls. You can guess what was next! They bound our ankles and knees together, tied our arms behind us and made us lie down on the barn floor. Then they placed the bowls about six feet from our heads and made us snake our way over to them, stick our face in and eat the contents. Any hesitation to do so brought swift encouragement with a cane, and the caning continued until the reluctant slave decided that ingesting cracker crumbs soaked in her own piss was a better alternative. we all managed to swallow it down and keep it down, except pixie, who threw it all up immediately and lay retching on the barn floor for several minutes. i wondered if they'd ever give the poor thing something she could hold down. Actually, it wasn't so bad for me once i got past the mental disgust. Urine doesn't have much taste and recycling my own was far less horrible than being a toilet for others, an experience i definitely don't want to repeat!

Having enjoyed our latest humiliation, the men were eager to move on to the afternoon's entertainment. Once again we were marched to the top of the hill, this time connected to our teammate only by a collar chain, our hands cuffed behind us. When we reached the parked wagon the three teams of slaves were each chained to a wheel of the wagon while the men opened up a box. They came up with a bunch of paintball guns. Master Tom then explained the rules of the new game to us.

"This is to be a hunt. Each team will be released and allowed to attempt an escape. She will be given a sixty second head start before the men come after her. If she makes it to a public road and sits down in the road without being hit by a paintball, she and her teammate will be excused from any further tests for the weekend. If both are captured, however, they will receive five strokes of the singletail for every paintball that hits them. The team with the fewest paintball strikes will receive three points, the next fewest two, and the team with the least paintball hits one point. Again I remind you, the team with the highest cumulative score on Sunday will finish the weekend in luxury. The others will pay dearly for their indolence. So far anna and tatyana are ahead with seven points, mya and kristina are second with six and pixie and oriana are trailing with four points. We'll begin with our leaders."

The chain linking tatyana and me was removed and we were sent running toward the woods with a painful swat on our bottoms with a paddle. Our hands were still cuffed behind us, so running was not exactly graceful. i yelled at tatyana that we had to split up so the "hunters" would have to split as well. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Anyway, we went into the woods in different directions, but all too soon i heard crashing behind me. Someone was catching up to me. Should i try to hide? Since my legs had not recovered from the earlier ordeals, i decided that hiding was my only chance, so i ducked into a thick clump of yews. The crashing behind me ceased immediately, turning into a stealthy crunching of the forest floor advancing directly toward me. What could i do? They obviously knew where i was. My only hope was to . . . A rock ripped through the yews and struck me on the shoulder. I screamed and jumped up! The instant i turned to run, a series of painful hammer blows hit my back. Someone grabbed my hair and threw me to the ground. More hammer blows hit my legs and my neck! Someone picked me up and threw me over His shoulder and i was carried back to the top of the hill. tatyana was already there, being hung by her ankles from the branch of a tree. Soon i was hanging next to her, a pair of hunting trophies waiting to be skinned with a whip.

There we remained while the other two teams were released and hunted down. There we remained until we had received a whipping equivalent to the number of paintball hits on our bodies. This time it was little pixie and oriana who had come in first, dodging paintballs and evading capture for six minutes. No one made it to the road, but mya and kristina had learned from my mistakes and managed to come in second in spite of kristina's sore foot. tatyana and I were now tied with mya and kristina with eight points each, while pixie and oriana were close behind with seven. But it seemed to me they whipped pixie more brutally than they should have. The poor thing was alarmingly pale and probably weak from starvation.

They started to make us run back down the hill toward the barn, but pixie fell and had to be helped to her feet. So we walked the rest of the way with oriana helping her teammate who was having trouble walking in a straight line. They took her into the house where Master Daniel examined her and decided all she needed was some decent food and some sleep. That gave the rest of us a reprieve of several hours to recuperate, more or less. Except that where pixie got to sleep on a real bed, the rest of us got to spend those hours tied up on the floor of the barn. And where she got a real dinner, for us it was back to swill in the pig sty.

But pixie was returned to duty that evening for the final two tests of the day.

First came the water test. A grist mill had once been a part of the working farm, powered by a water wheel that was turned by a waterfall close by the barn. Water tumbled into the buckets, which turned the wheel, the buckets emptying during the ride back up on the opposite side. Master Logan had moved the wheel inside the barn and modified it into a torture device. He set it up over a large tank filled with water that came up almost to the axis. He replaced the buckets with rods over which a submissive's body could be arched face up, as on a rack, and bound down by wrists, breast, belly, thighs and ankles. By rotating the wheel, the victim is plunged under water and can be held there for as long as the wheel operator chooses. It's a fiendishly terrifying experience because you feel like you're about to drown and are helpless to do anything about it. In our case, as an added horrific touch, a black hood was fitted over our heads and tied around our throats. Not only can't you see what's happening, but the wet hood clings to your face and makes it frighteningly difficult to tell whether you're still under water. i've been swimming since i was four and love the water, but i've never known such fear as when they rolled me under the first time. Blind, disoriented, completely immobilized, it was the closest i've ever come to being panicked under water! It was irrational, of course, because Master was right there to revive me if that happened. Still, YOU try it!

Each girl was to be dunked three times. The object was to stay under as long as we could, ten seconds minimum, with fifteen seconds between dunkings. Only the longest time of the three immersions would count toward the team score, but if any girl failed to last ten seconds during any immersion, she would be disqualified (which would NOT excuse her partner from undergoing the ordeal). Prior to each dunking an orange colored stone was placed in our hands . Dropping the stone was the signal to bring us up. The combined time under water for the two members of each team would determine the winners.

Failing to last the minimum ten seconds under water had a second consequence as well, a punishment designed to help us conquer our fears. In addition to disqualification, the girl who dropped the stone too soon would be spun in and out of the tank twenty times and during the upside part of each revolution would be whipped on her breasts, belly and thighs by Masters on both sides of the wheel.

The Masters drew straws to determine who would go first. mya and kristina won the draw. Lucky them.

mya went first and to nearly everyone's amazement, mya turned out to be deathly afraid of water. In spite of the tight straps she was shaking visibly as the wheel began to turn and her body was pulled feet first under the water, her blond hair following her down like the wavy tendrils of a jellyfish. she panicked immediately and dropped her stone. The Masters were so surprised that they went into a huddle and decided that everyone would get a test dunking to get used to the sensation. (You can get used to drowning?!!!) mya didn't want a second chance! i'd never seen her cry before, but now she was in tears, begging them to whip her, cane her, brand her, hang her by her hair, anything! But please not to put her under water again! They ignored her, of course. Her second dunking was just as bad. she dropped the stone the instant her face went under the surface.

The punishment was a worse horror for her, being rotated down under the water twenty times, and in between the dunkings a terrible flogging with two singletail whips as her body rode over the top and down again. Master Daniel watched carefully to make sure she was still breathing each time she came out of the water, but He needn't have bothered. Each time her head emerged upside down from the tank she would sputter, spit out water and beg tearfully not to be dunked again. When they finally stopped the wheel and took her down, she scrambled into a corner and doubled up, hugging herself and weeping silently.

It broke my heart. For the first time it really came home to me that mya is just as vulnerable as any of us. she's so tall and strong and healthy that it's easy to forget she has deep-seated fears and phobias like the rest of us. They had found one and tortured her with it ruthlessly. Using her fear of water, they had reduced her to a terrified little girl.

i took advantage of a pause (the men were making adjustments to the wheel) to go over and squat next to her. i put my arms around her, being careful to avoid touching her badly striped breasts and belly. "you don't swim, do you," i whispered, making it a statement not a question.

"No," she murmured. "i grew up in the Nevada desert. i HATE water!" She wept a little more, then blurted out, "The bastards! i'm so ashamed!"

"Good heavens, why?" i said. "That was a terrible thing they did to you. Anyone would panic. And you're the bravest person i know. Listen, your Master likes to have to have you exercise at the gym. Ask Him to let you take swimming lessons. i absolutely guarantee it won't be anything like you just went through, and within a few weeks you won't be afraid of the water at all. Maybe my Master will let me teach you. Would you be willing to do that?"

she gave me a strange look, like i'd just offered to cut off her foot! Then her eyes softened. she nodded, smiled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. To my surprise she leaned over and kissed me. i stayed with her, holding her hand as we watched her partner, kristina, being strapped to the wheel.

kristina had been badly shaken by mya's ordeal and was crying out of sheer terror. But she managed to hold on to her stone for twelve seconds under water on her first dunking, fourteen on the second, and seventeen the third time under. Her huge smile as they took her off the wheel showed her tremendous relief at having escaped drowning.

pixie and oriana were next and although they were obviously afraid, they overcame their dread and did remarkably well. pixie's best time was fifty-nine seconds under water. oriana's was fifty-four, a very respectable team total of 113 seconds.

Then it was our turn. tatyana and me.

tatyana was nervous (natually) but seemed to have a twinkle in her eye. she stayed under for sixty-seven seconds before she suddenly flung the stone away and thrashed wildly against her restraints until her head cleared the water. But she calmed herself down during her fifteen seconds in the open air and seemed under control again as the wheel dragged her under the second time. she didn't try to better her mark, only to get comfortably past the ten second minimum. The third time she held on for fifty-three seconds.

Undoubtedly Master Logan had known his tatyana would excel at this test when He devised it, but Master Daniel insists He had not revealed my own background as a member of my high school and college swim teams. i'm sure i shocked everyone but Him when i lasted103 seconds before i had to drop the stone. Actually, i shocked myself! i was in utter terror every second of that black helplessness. But i knew it would be my last real chance to win the only prize that mattered: to be able to share my Master's bed! i pushed the panic away by mentally shouting at myself over and over, "If i drown, Master WILL revive me! What use would i be to Him dead? He WILL revive me! He WON'T let me die! " Then, as i felt the wheel carry me over the top and down towards the water again, i heard tatyana screaming "we've won! we've won!" If i hadn't been concentrating on survival, i would have cried with joy! i did have the presence of mind not to try to outdo myself for those last two dunkings. All i wanted to do was get through the ordeal and preserve the win.

tatyana and i, with 11 total points, had now pulled ahead of the other two teams. pixie and oriana were in second place with 9 and mya and kristina had dropped from first to last place with 8.

At that point i was thinking that having survived the pulling, the hunt, the whipping, the severe bondage and confinement, the piss-soaked food and the most intense fear i had ever experienced, they couldn't possibly think up anything worse. i was so wrong!

But i'm exhausted. i'll have to finish this tomorrow. Tonight i'm crawling into Master's bed and all over his sexy body! i'm going to lick every square inch of it until He cums into my mouth.

Chapter 15

anna is a sexual wonder! Actually, from any perspective, anna is an astonishing person. I know I should keep her fawning and servile, and she accepts that role when I demand it, but I was so impressed with her performance at Logan's farm that I could have eaten her up. she didn't know it, but I had intended to let her start sharing my bed on a permanent basis no matter what happened because I love what she does to me when I give her the chance. But her own determination to win that prize was something to see! There are times when I'm sorely tempted to marry her. Fortunately, I manage to restrain myself. But O my God! she's magnificent!

Pulling that heavy wagon to the top of that hill with bare feet on a rocky road in an iron yoke could not have been pleasant. Hauling those weighted sledges in a race across that rough field must have been misery. Chowing down a dinner of swill laced with tripe was a masochistic feat. And a night packed into those tiny cages must have been hell. Still she never let up, never used a safe word or asked for a break. Well, there was that one time on the hill when she suggested redistributing the loads on the sledges, but she hadn't asked that we lighten her load, only that we lighten pixie's because otherwise she and oriana didn't stand a chance. And it was true. pixie is a fragile little thing and that swill, plus a nearly sleepless night in that insidious cage had just about done her in.

kristina was pretty gutsy, too. she broke a toe while pulling the wagon up the hill, but she fought off the pain to help win the first sledge pull, even though she had to lean forward into the yoke at a steep angle and push with her toes. Good thing she collapsed on the way back, though, because she was making the break much worse. I volunteered, as the only physician in the group, to take her to the Maine Medical Center. But I really did it because I knew the medical personnel there would spot the bruises and welts from the activities of the last two days and ask questions. kristina would have to put on one of her shows and I wouldn't miss it for the world! And that's exactly what happened. The x-ray technician frowned at the rope burns and whip marks, but before he could say a word kristina locked those big gray eyes on him and spun an elaborate tale of how she had got tangled in some ropes, tumbled down a hill and would have wound up with a mass of broken bones if I hadn't caught her just before she plunged off a ledge. It was absurdly melodramatic, but she told it so convincingly that I couldn't help but bask in the technician's praise for my heroism.

The paintball hunt was fun. anna wasn't very fast or devious, so Tom was able to catch her easily and pelt her with most of his ammo at the closest allowed distance, eight feet. But even at that range those things really hurt! tatyana was a good runner, but with her hands cuffed behind her she was no match for Peter. Both she and anna were hanging from a tree in short order. It took me a lot longer to catch mya and wrestle her into a position where I could get a rope around her ankles. And it was a long hike back carrying her trussed-up one-hundred-forty-five pounds over my shoulder. Surprisingly, pixie proved to be the most elusive. Jason fired all six of his paintballs and hit her only once. Even that was disallowed because he was too close (we each hunted with a referee to keep us honest). He actually caught her three times, but she kept squirming out of his grasp and slipping away before he could tie off the ankle rope to secure the official capture. pixie was having a great time! she knew Peter had wasted all his paintballs, which meant she had escaped a whipping; it was just a matter of delaying the tie down long enough to ensure a win for her team. As it turned out, both she and her teammate, oriana, had the longest evasion times and easily won the three points. Thanks to my own bumbling, mya and kristina came in next for the two points. anna and tatyana, having been captured first, had to settle for the single point.

It was an inspiring sight when we finally had all six of the quarry hanging by their ankles. We let them languish there for a while as we tapped a keg of draught beer and regaled ourselves with stories of the hunt. When we were sufficiently refreshed, we took our trophies down one at a time in the order they'd been captured, strung them up again by the wrists where the others could watch and doled out their sentences: five lashes for every legitimate paintball hit on their bodies. Not only did anna and tatyana, as the first to be captured, have to settle for the lowest score, they had also sustained the most hits and now had to endure the longest whippings. anna ground her teeth and took all twenty-five of her lashes with hardly a whimper, her pain betrayed only by the tears streaming down her face.

Before heading back to the farmhouse, we took a sex break. The rule was: nobody could fuck his own slave. I put my bid in right away for little pixie. Peter had finally tired of coloring her hair red and blue and green and orange and various weird combinations; it was back to its natural lustrous black as a striking frame for her brilliant blue eyes. I had her suck on me for a while so I could lose myself in those fantastic eyes glimpsing up at me through her jet black eyelashes as she got me nice and hard. Then I laid her on her back in the grass and entered her, pumping wildly, still locked into the blue depths of her eyes, her legs locked around me fiercely as I came. What a sweet little piece she is! If that ass Jason decides to sell her after all, I'll buy her!

The least painful test of the weekend was also the most hellish. Logan and I had devised a water torture that was truly diabolical. We took an old water wheel that once ran a grist mill on the property and set it up in the barn over a large tank so that nearly half of it was under water. We took off the buckets and screwed slats across the rim about six inches apart so it was like a rolling picket fence. The girls were tied down to it, rolled under water and held there. To make the experience even more frightening for them we decided to add a heavy black hood which made it harder for them to tell when they were out of the water and it was safe to inhale. The test was to see how long they could remain under water before signaling us (by dropping a stone) to bring them up. Obviously a dunking plank would have been easier to construct, but the wheel made for a far more terrifying experience. Just being strapped to it made them pee themselves! It was well worth the effort.

Naturally, I had equipment nearby just in case, and I'm sure that somewhere in the back of their minds the girls realized we wouldn't actually let them drown. But such theoretical comfort is soon quenched by sheer terror when they're under water, in the dark and helpless.

It was a bit of a conspiracy, too. Logan knew that anna had been a strong competitor on both her high school and college swim teams, and I knew that tatyana had been a lifeguard back home in Ukraine. In short, we rigged the odds to help anna win her berth in my bed. Even so, both women admitted later that it was a fearful ordeal and the closest they had ever come to stark, mindless panic. Still, it was that win, plus kristina's broken toe, that put them in the lead. With a score of 11 points, they were two points ahead of pixie and oriana and three ahead of mya and kristina. A second place finish in the final event ( two more points) would clinch their victory with a total score of 13. On the other hand, if they only came in third (one point), pixie and oriana could tie or beat them.

We had already put our females through grueling tests of obedience, speed, strength and fear. They had now reached what they would discover to be the cruelest torment yet. It would be a test of pure pain. Not just the ordinary pain of a whipping or caning, but the excruciating torture of pig prods and electrical stims on and in the most sensitive parts of their bodies. And it wouldn't be just a matter of enduring it; they would actually have to ask for it, over and over again.

We worked out the procedures for the torture sessions with little trouble — exactly what we would do to them and how to mix just the right amount of uniformity for a fair competition with variety for our own amusement. We also agreed that the slaves should not go in teams but be taken in random order from an isolated location where they could not determine how well or poorly their teammates or the competition had done. The stickiest argument was over whether or not they should be told in advance the order of their "executions" so as to maximize the psychological component of their ordeal. Truth be known, there is no pat answer to that because everybody's different. For some, ignorance of the order would be comforting because it leaves hope for a longer reprieve. For others, not knowing who will be taken next would be a torture in itself. To settle the matter I weighed in as the resident professional psychologist and pronounced that announcing the order in which they would be taken to their fate would be far more stressful. After all, I reasoned, the worst part of a condemned prisoner's punishment is knowing the exact moment his life will end. However, I also stressed that they should do it in such a way that the girls would know that the order of their suffering was truly random.

At this point, when everything was finally set to go, if I had been tempted to bet on any of our three teams of slaves, I probably would have put my money on mya and kristina. That's because I happen to know that mya is a real pain slut and loves to be pushed beyond her limits. she can take more pain without flinching than any other slave I've ever run across. But in this case, she and kristina would only be trying to avoid a last place finish. How much serious pain would they be willing to endure just to get out of a little extended misery tomorrow? The pixie-oriana team was also a question mark. I've seen oriana absorb an impressive amount of punishment, but pixie is a frail little thing and had collapsed the day before because of a weak stomach. she's brave, though. I'll give her that. she fought through her panic on the water wheel surprisingly well. So looking at things from anna's point of view, it was a tough situation to predict. If she wanted the win, she and tatyana would simply have to bear down and suffer more than they ever dreamed they could. I don't know what kind of punishment Logan meted out to tatyana, but I had only rately used anything as brutal as a pig prod on anna. I had occasionally invaginated her with electrical stims, but never at the voltage levels the men had planned for this test. I doubted she had any idea of the torment she had in store.

 

anna's journal: May 13

What a lovely night, last night! i love my Master Daniel so much i can hardly stand it! How i love to be there for Him in the evening when He comes through the door. Waiting there on my knees, eyes down, holding out the martini and the whip. Ever since the weekend He's been giving me the sweetest kiss on my hand as He takes the whip. i fantasize that one day He'll take off his tie and use it to bind up my hands right there in the vestibule. He'll whip me a little to make me cry, then push me to the floor and take me right then and there! Oh God! i'm getting wet!

—

i just asked Master's permission to masturbate, but He won't let me. Says He wants me to save myself for later. Says He's going to spank me for asking, then fuck my brains out! But i have to wait. Ahhhhhh! This is almost as bad as that last test Saturday night! No. No it isn't. i take that back. It's not even close.

They gave us twenty minutes or so after the water torture to put our makeup back on and get as presentable as our various bruises would allow, then led us all into the library of the house where all six dining room chairs had been lined up. They tied us to the chairs and strapped ball gags in our mouths so we couldn't talk. Masters Peter and Jason went up to tatyana at the end of the line to my right with a tube of red lipstick and a bowl containing some playing cards. Master Jason held the bowl and they both made a big show of stirring up the cards inside the bowl. Then Master Jason held it up where they couldn't see into it while Master Peter reached in and pulled out a card. He showed it to us: the deuce of hearts. He wrote the number "2" on tatyana's breast. They went down the row like that, pulling out a card and writing the corresponding number on the girl. i got 4..

After we had all been numbered, Master Tom stepped up and explained the rules of the test. We would be taken to the barn one at a time in the order of our numbers and restrained in such a way that our female and anal areas would be totally available. For the men's entertainment the specific position would be different for each of us, but the effect would be the same. We would be fitted with copper stims in our rectum and vagina and metal clamps on our nipples. These would all be wired to an electrical control panel. In addition there would be a pig prod which could be used anywhere on our bodies. He flourished a deck of cards and said each card represented one of the electrical devices. They would be shuffled and turned over one at a time to determine which device would be activated. The odd cards, 3, 5, 7 and 9, would mean a jolt in our ass. The even cards, 2, 4, 6, 8, would deliver it to our cunts. Tens and Jacks earned us a zap in the nipples. Queens and Kings brought on the pig prod. The Aces offered a kind of reward; they would use a vibrator on our clits for two minutes or until we came. Master Peter said we would have thirty seconds after each shock to ask for another one, and if we failed to ask in time, our turn would be over. Our score would consist of the number of shocks we asked for, even when we drew an Ace. He asked if we all understood. Six anxious looking heads nodded.

He went over to oriana whose breast was adorned with the number "1" and tapped her on the head.

"You're first," He said.

They untied her and they led her out.

We were left unattended to think about what was to come. The room was totally quiet except for our breathing and the occasional groan as someone tried to shift a little in her chair. There was no clock. We were frozen in a tableau of timelessness and fear, unable to speak or move. i don't know about the others but i'd had a little experience with electrical play and with the pig prod in Master's dungeon. It was bad! The pain was worse than anything i had ever imagined! Even worse than when i was a little girl and my friend Timmy accidentally hit me with his bat and i ran home screaming, holding my broken arm with my other hand.

i tried not to think about it, but how could i not? Especially when, every now and then, we could hear a terrible scream, faint as though it were reaching us from a far distance. But we knew where it was coming from. The barn was a good hundred yards from the house, yet neither the distance, nor the intervening rush of the night wind, nor the thick walls of the two buildings could insulate us from the terrifying evidence of oriana's ordeal.

i have no idea how long it was before Hal and Master Tom came for number two. That was tatyana. Listening to her screams was even more nerve-racking because i realized she was stretching out her suffering entirely for my benefit. she knew how much winning this test meant to me.

mya was third.

Then they came for me.

i walked through a chilling drizzle with Master Tom in front of me and Master Logan behind me. There was no restraint at all, as if to emphasize the fact that i was doing this voluntarily, that i could beg off at any time. Inside the barn i could see oriana, tatyana and mya bound up in tough hog-ties against a wall, their mouths stuffed with rags, no doubt to keep them from giving away the score so far. i envied them. For them the worst was over. mya's body was glistening with sweat and her eyes bore into me with an intense message i couldn't read. The faces of all three had been decorated with tracks of mascara flushed from their eyes in a flood of tears.

i was handed a deck of cards and told to shuffle it. i tried to appear cool but my hands trembled so that i dropped the deck. Then i thought, what the hell! i may as well let Them see my fear, be the scared little girl i felt like, play the pity card.

If that strategy worked, you can't prove it by me!

Hal and three of the Masters went to work preparing me. They strapped leather cuffs to my wrists and ankles, connected them with ropes from four widely spaced pulleys and pulled me up off the floor stretched into an X. A small padded table, like a telephone stand, was centered under the small of my back to make my body more horizontal, then the ropes were pulled taut again. i could twist a little and lift myself off the table by arching my back, but otherwise i wasn't going anywhere. Master Daniel appeared at my side and applied fierce clamps to my nipples. There were wires trailing from the clamps running to an electrical panel covered with dials, meters and switches. It was about the size of a suitcase and was set up on another small table. As i fought off the growing ache in my nipples, i felt fingers spread my labia and cold, slippery metal being shoved into my vagina. Then my ass cheeks were forced apart and another metal object slid into my anus. A long leather thong threaded through loops at the base of the two stims was cinched up tightly through my crotch and around my waist like a vulgar string bikini to hold the electrodes in place. i could see more wires snaking from between my legs over to the electric panel.

Master Logan came up next to me and repeated the rules that Master Tom had outlined in the library, only this time, with the electrical torture apparatus in place, the words took on a new level of terror.

"As you were told, this test involves pure pain. But it will continue only as long as you want it to because you must ask for each application of electrical current. The strength and duration of the current in each location of your body where it will be applied have been carefully calibrated by Dr. Fortune to deliver maximum pain without causing permanent physical harm or endangering your heart."

He pointed to a large black clock on the wall which i could see between my widely splayed legs. Only it wasn't a regular clock. It had a single white sweep hand and white dots around the perimeter with large glowing numbers that counted them off by fives, ending at the top with 30.

"After each shock you will have until the second hand is straight up on thirty to ask for another. you will say, 'Again, please.' If you fail to ask for it in time, your turn will end and your score will consist of the number of times you had the courage to ask for another. Where the pain is applied will be determined by the deck of card you just shuffled. Even numbers to your pussy, odd numbers to your ass, tens and Jacks to your nipples. The King and Queen will call for the pig prod to various parts of your body in the order listed on this paper." He dangled a sheet of paper in front of my face, but i was in no condition to read it. "The Ace will grant you a time out during which a vibrator will be applied to your clit. The time out will end in two minutes or when you cum, whichever happens first. Then you must ask again. As each card is turned over I will call out what it is and show it to the other Masters so everyone is satisfied that the test is fair. And since your tears may make it difficult for you to see the clock, I will also count down the seconds for you after each application. The clock will start with the first one. Are you ready to begin?"

How dearly i would have loved to say no. But i swallowed hard and said, "Yes, Master."

He placed the deck of cards on the table next to the control board and pulled off the top card with a flourish, flashing it around for all the Masters to see. "Seven!"

i held my breath and tensed up to receive the pain, but i don't think it helped. Fiery teeth bit into my ass and held on and on and on as my whole body contracted, trying to become a ball, pulling so frantically on the nearly lateral restraints that my back was no longer touching the little table under me! i heard strange noises escaping my throat but i was powerless to exhale or inhale! Suddenly i felt the current stop and the pain began to fade. i flopped limply back onto the table panting.

"Thirty seconds. Twenty-five. . ."

Oh God! He was counting down. i had to ask for another one! Oh please NO! i couldn't! My body begged me to stop! i had to concentrate.

"Fifteen. Ten. Are you going to quit now? Five."

"Again, please!" i heard myself say.

He slipped another card off the top of the deck. "Jack."

A pair of savage jaws bit deeply into my nipples! Again my body strained with every ounce of my strength against the ropes, raising me off the table, turning my hands and feet turning purple, my mouth locked open in a long wail of anguish. And again it was suddenly over, the pain in my breasts subsiding to an ache. Again i was limp, panting, perspiration dripping off my face, running down my arms and legs, pooling between my breasts. Two nightmarish episodes of pain, and now i had to ask for another. God help me!

"Twenty seconds. Fifteen. Ten . . ." The voice calling me back to hell. And i knew i had to go.

"Five seconds."

"Again, please!"

He pulled a third card. "Five."

my ass burst into flames again, and when the fire finally went out i was sobbing, choking on my tears, wilted in my restraints, my strength nearly gone. And i couldn't stop! The white hand was approaching the 30 again. God have mercy on me!

"Again, please." It was barely a whisper, but they heard it.

"Six."

A knife tore into my vagina and twisted about in my womb as i cried and strained and twisted in mid-air until it miraculously evaporated within me, dropping my body back on the little table. i could no longer feel my feet and hands, only the receding pain. my mind had split in two. One part of me chanted please, Master, love me so i can go on! and the other part shouted NO! NO! NO! It was so hard to say it! i sobbed more than spoke, "Again, please."

i couldn't open my eyes, but his voice condemned me from the darkness.

"Nine."

Another explosion of incredible pain in my anus that went on endlessly, spreading through my belly and up my legs! Followed by another brief hiatus and another terrible decision. Had the others managed to endure this long? Did it matter? Did anything matter except getting it to stop? But i had made the decision back in that chair as the first three suffered this same ordeal. i will not stop. i will not stop. i will NOT stop!

"Five seconds."

"Again, please."

"Queen of Hearts!"

A longer pause this time. Maybe two seconds. What was the Queen? i couldn't remember. Suddenly a blow torch hit my thigh and i screamed maniacally as the most intense pain i had ever known shot up my leg, through my body and into my head! my entire being was white hot torment! The pig prod! What was left of my rational mind begged God for the mercy of death! But God had no pity, death wouldn't come! Only the searing, maddening, endless pain! i almost failed to notice when it had stopped. A distant droning voice niggled at my senses.

"Ten seconds. Five. Four. Three. Two. . ."

A tiny voice responding, helpless to escape the insanity. "Again, please."

"Three."

Hell is forever. It went on and on and on. Jack... Ten... another Queen! Eight... Three... King! This time the agony enveloped me so completely i couldn't swim out. The unbearable torment yielded to the numbing embrace of darkness, the pain flowing away with the scream, the dream of life swirling down, down into the peace of oblivion.

my re-entry into the world was sweet and sorrowful. The pain was gone. My master was holding my head up and supporting my body as others released the cuffs on my wrists and ankles. It took me some moments to remember where i was and why. Master tried to stand me on my feet but my legs didn't have the strength to hold me up, so he carried me over to where the others languished in their bonds. They were staring at me, but their gags kept them silent. tatyana nodded. What did that mean? Was she commiserating with me? Had i failed? i couldn't remember how many times i had asked for more punishment. It was all a blur of pain. i started to ask my Master how well i had done, if i had disgraced Him or won my way into His bed. But He gently stuffed a piece of cloth into my mouth and secured it with a leather strap. He said nothing, but He was smiling at me and He kissed my upper and then my lower lip, above and below the gag, making my heart swell with hope! He put me into a tight hogtie, folding and binding me into a ball with my legs bent calf to thigh, my breasts crushed against the top of my thighs, my wrists and elbows tied together behind me. The multitude of bindings made it impossible to move anything but my head. But He tipped me over on my side so i could watch the final two girls suffer their own ordeals.

kristina was brought in as i had been, sandwiched between two Masters. i'm sure my face must have registered as much fear as hers, but it was heartbreaking to watch her trying to be brave. After she shuffled the cards, They spreadeagled her face-down on a rectangle of metal pipes, tying her wrists and ankles to the corners. A pipe across the middle supported her midsection as the frame was raised about four feet off the floor. Master Daniel attached the same clips to her nipples that had lately pinched mine, while Master Tom inserted the stims in her cunt and ass. With a shiver i listened to Master Logan recite the same explanation of the rules of the test and could barely make out kristina's frightened approval to start.

The first card was a seven. kristina screamed and raised herself off the rectangular frame as the current burned into her ass. How well i remembered the pain she was feeling! The next card was a King. Master Peter brought the pig prod in contact with her bottom and this time her scream was terrifying! i couldn't watch. i bit my lip as my own tears began to flow again. In my mind i begged her to give it up, but she was able to rally at the last second to ask for a third round. Incredibly, she drew another King! she wailed "NO!" a moment before the prod touched the back of her thigh and the word instantly melded into a scream so piercing that pixie, alone now in the library, could not have missed it. kristina could not go on. Hysterical and sobbing, she missed the 30-second mark and was spared further torture.

Little pixie was their last victim. They pulled her arms overhead until she was standing on tiptoe. Then they tied a rope to her left ankle and pulled her leg out and up, exposing her for easy insertion of the vaginal and rectal stims. she was pale with fear as Master Logan repeated the rules and asked for her permission to begin. i couldn't imagine that this delicate creature would last more than one or two rounds of the terrible pain she was about to experience.

How wrong i was! she danced and screamed and cried through seven cards, including two pig prods, before she fainted and hung unconscious in her restraints. Master Peter, her Owner, took her down as lovingly as my Owner had with me. i could only hope that my performance had lasted as long as hers and made me as worthy to my Beloved.

Chapter 16

Dammit! I'm losing control! The very thing I had intended to avoid from the very beginning! You'd think I'd be smart enough to know better, having accumulated a B.A. an M.D. and a PhD. But while all that intellectual paraphernalia has assured me a splendid income, it has not protected me from the irresistible force of anna's magnetism. Somehow, in spite of my ironclad psychological defenses, she has made me fall so deeply in love that being the stern disciplinarian has become painful for me.

This is an odd confession for a control freak. Yes, that's what I am: an admitted, unrepentant Control Freak. Hell, the reason I took on anna in the first place was to satisfy my intense craving to "own" another human being, to have unquestioned control over a beautiful, docile, utterly submissive female who would surrender herself mindlessly to my darkest fantasies, a flesh and blood sex toy reveling in my domination, yielding up her body to gratify my every whim, no matter how bizarre, accepting any punishment I decreed, no matter how cruel.

anna was, and is, all of that. she loves and reveres me as though I were a god, offering herself daily as a sacrifice. I had demanded that she forge her own psychological chains in the brutal ordeal of her training, then lock them on permanently with the sacrament of the slavery contract. she had done so joyfully, and in her own blood.

If the vanilla world only knew it, I am by far a worse control freak than any of the bestial men whose wives and girl friends pepper my appointment book and help feed my lucrative practice. The laugh is that I consider my therapy for those miserable women successful only when they finally realize that they must extricate themselves from the grip of their controlling mate. Throw the bum out! Walk away! When necessary, I even help them find safe houses to escape with their lives. And all the while I keep a slave who lovingly hands me a whip every evening and who would step in front of a speeding truck if I commanded her to do so. I would consider myself a colossal hypocrite were it not for the fact that she wants it this way. Enslavement satisfies her deepest needs just as owning her satisfies mine.

she had meekly submitted herself for that weekend of torture without a whisper of complaint, not because she likes extreme punishment, but because I ordered it. she maximized her suffering throughout the weekend not because she enjoys unbearable pain, but just so she could sleep next to me three times a week. I've tried not to be softened by the intensity of her feelings, of the love that drives her to endure such fearsome torment as that last cruel test, but it's a hopeless struggle. her love is infectious.

I had expected mya to bear up well in that last test, and she did. she took so many hard shocks to her tits, in fact, that I considered telling them to lay off the nipples, fearing her heart might stop. she held out the longest before the tears came — eight rounds — and made it all the way to seventeen before her voice failed to oblige her courage.

Everyone thought pixie would drop out the earliest, but we greatly underestimated her. she screamed and cried pathetically, but made it through seven rounds before passing out.

It was kristina who proved to be the early dropout. To be fair, she drew two Kings and a Queen, and three successive blasts from the pig prod would overwhelm just about anyone. The frantic thrashing in her restraints probably aggravated her broken toe as well, adding even more pain. At any rate, her low score of 3 offset mya's 17, holding them back to an overall team total of 28.

oriana did a little better with a score of 5, but with pixie's 7 they still only managed a combined total of 21.

tatyana really wanted her team to win, not so much for herself, but because she had developed a deep affection for anna (I discovered later) and knew how much it meant to her. tatyana apparently has a rather low threshhold for pain because she was crying hysterically after just two jolts to her cunt. Still, she tried valiantly to keep going. It was the pig prod twice in a row that did her in after the seventh and eighth rounds. she couldn't bring herself to ask for another. Over and over she blubbered ,"Tell anna i'm so sorry," as we took her down and Logan led her away to tie her up.

But it was anna who absolutely amazed me. she wouldn't quit! By the time she reached the tenth card she could barely speak loud enough to be heard, but still she asked for more! There's no question in my mind that if she hadn't fainted at the thirteenth round, she would have gone on until she did. The look in her eyes as she swam back to consciousness and realized she was in my arms touched me in a way that changed our relationship forever. I tied her up firmly, but my heart wasn't in it. I just wanted to take her home and hold her and make love to her. This is not good for a slave owner.

anna's score of 13, combined with tatyana's 8, brought their total score for the weekend to 32, a four point win over mya and kristina. But that was only a formality. I haven't told anna, of course, but she had already won a permanent place in my bed no matter what the damned score. These days I confine her to the palette just for punishment. she's still chained to the bed at night, but I want her body where I can run my hands over it, where I can pull her against me, and enter her, whenever I feel the need. Which is often.

Her happiness that Sunday was palpable and endearing. To be eating at the table with me and the other Masters, as mya and kristina ate from bowls on the floor; to be served like a lady of the court by pixie and oriana, who had to content themselves with the scrapings from our plates in the pig trough; to be riding home in the front seat of the SUV beside me, boldly naked and holding my hand; these were part of the reward for her two days of suffering, with the best part to come that night. I thought she would eat me alive in my own bed before she collapsed from exhaustion, falling into a deep, happy sleep, satiated by sex and love.

In the vanilla world, with its sloppy sentimental values, this fundamental change in our relationship would be viewed as a good thing, an improvement. But for anna it would have proved ultimately disastrous. she still had a deep psychological need to be dominated at all times by a strong and uncompromising Master, someone whose whims she must obey and whose punishments she must suffer. she had accepted her place as a slave at the deepest level of her psyche; she felt comfortable at having been relieved of any obligation in life other than to obey. The intrusion of freedom would make her feel exposed, abandoned and unhappy.

Fortunately, events spared me from failing anna as her Master. What happened was that my oversexed friend Peter Arnson, whose choice of female flesh was far superior to his choice of stock market investments, suddenly found himself in a bit of financial fix. Just as the Cambodian girl he had purchased was put on a plane to Boston, his portfolio hit a critical snag. He asked me if I would be willing to help him out by buying the girl from him. He showed me a picture.

Now you understand, most of the unfortunate girls at these Asian flesh markets are sold for as little as $7.50. The exceptions are the virgins. HIV and AIDS are rampant in the brothels to which these girls are sold because most of the customers refuse to use condoms, and many Asian men believe that sex with a virgin cures HIV; so virgins are sold at a premium, often $1500 and up. Most are very young: ten, eleven, thirteen years old. Sometimes, however, a financial calamity hits a girl's family when she's sixteen or seventeen, and, if they're desperate enough, they cash her in. Such was the case with Pang.

She was stunning! A tiny, eighteen year old exotic flower with a shy smile and big, dark, frightened eyes. Under pressure from her parents, poor farmers in Kompong Thom province, she had signed a contract in which "compensation for her services for a ten year period" were to be paid in advance to her father, nothing to her, the amount of this "compensation" having been determined by the winning bid at the auction. In addition, it was stipulated that if she proved unsatisfactory for any reason and at any time, the "contract may be reassigned at the discretion of the contractor." In other words, stripping away the faux legalese, she could be resold. In Cambodia that meant she would become meat at a sex factory, servicing twenty to thirty men a day until she was too old or too wasted by disease to be profitable. Then she would either be sold as a field slave or trashed. Either way, her body would never be found.

Just to see what he'd say, I asked Peter how I was supposed to get the girl back to Cambodia if she proved "unsatisfactory" to me.

"Send her back?" he said, astonished at my naïveté. "Why would you do that? There are plenty of brothels on this continent who'll take her off your hands. Hell, she's worth easily five-hundred a day, even in Central America. A thousand a day in the right places, like Miami. All you gotta do is make the right contacts, and I can help you there. She's quality merchandise, a solid gold investment. Trust me. I'm just offering her to you first because it's less of a hassle for me, and because you're a friend. I know you'll appreciate her. You and anna."

Peter was more of a shit than I thought. But what did I expect. He'd also considered selling pixie. The big difference, though, is that pixie is an American and knows her "slavery contract" is no legal document. she can walk out on it any time she chooses. Pang, however, has no reason to believe her fate is any less sealed in America than in Cambodia where any attempt to escape from her owner is a sure ticket to a terrible beating or death. Pang had no reason to think that American police were not in the pockets of the slave owners, just as they are in every part of the world she comes from.

Peter showed me his Visa receipts. Pang's purchase price was $4000, almost three times the going rate, enough to keep her family well fed for years. Additional preparation expenses (the medical exam, bribes to passport officials, tourist visa, etc.) plus "shipping expenses" which included air tickets from Phnom Penh to Boston, an "escort" to make sure she didn't miss the flight from Pochentong Airport, and two more to "help her make connections" in Taipei and Newark, plus luggage and clothes to make her look like a legitimate tourist, brought the grand total to $9243.

I could certainly afford it. But why should I invest that kind of money in a girl I knew nothing about when he had another asset that I already coveted? Why not buy pixie with her lush black hair (when it wasn't purple or green) and astonishing blue eyes? Let him keep Pang. If it was just the money he wanted, what difference would it make to him. Hadn't he already considered selling pixie? But as I gave it more thought, I realized that if Peter's financial difficulties continued, he would be much more likely to sell Pang to his "contacts" in the sex industry than pixie. If pixie were able to escape her new owners, she would not hesitate to turn to the police for help. Even if he sold her in Central America, she was very clever and might make her way north to the border. If she succeeded, Peter would soon be in deep shit. Pang, however, would be unlikely to resist her resale. She probably already assumes that her situation is hopeless, that authorities everywhere are as corrupt as those in Cambodia and that any attempt to escape will be foiled by the police and result in terrible repercussions to her family. She will go meekly to her fate no matter what happens. On the other hand, if I bought Pang now and Peter decided to sell pixie later, I could buy pixie as well.

Clearly, there was only one decent alternative.

Now the only question remaining was, how to break the news to anna. Of course, as her Master, I should simply have announced that it pleased me to bring a new slave into our household. anna's contract clearly states that I have no obligation to consult her on any matter, and that expressly includes the addition of other women to my life. But our relationship had changed since that weekend at Logan's farm. Try as I might, I could no longer think of her as strictly a piece of property. To hurt her physically in play or punishment was one thing; she expected it, desired it as an affirmation of her submission, her way of proving her love for me. But breaking her heart would be something else. I could not bring myself to cause her that kind of pain. I thought of how she begs me every night to allow her to cover me with kisses, and how sweet it is when I gave her permission to do so. But my professional experience told me that her very willingness to endure tremendous punishment in order to please me indicated the fragility of her self confidence. I could not bear to betray her trust in me, so I had to proceed very carefully.

During one of her hard won dinners with me at the table I gave her permission to speak freely. Then I explained Peter's purchase of the slave pang, his subsequent financial dilemma and his decision to sell her. "I can't allow him to sell her off to a low-life brothel in Guatemala. The poor thing would be dead within ten years."

"That would be very kind of you, Master," she said. "But how can you stop him?"

"I have decided to purchase the girl from him," I told her.

"You're going to buy her?"

"Yes. Otherwise he'll sell her off to any scumbag who'll pay the price. She's a beautiful girl. Any pimp or brothel owner can make a fortune off her. But it would destroy her."

"But what are you going to do with her?"

"I'll bring her here. Add her to our household."

"Here?" anna had stopped eating, her eyes filling with fear.

"Yes. She will become my number two slave."

"Your slave? Like me?"

"Not like you. You will always be number one."

"Will she be sleeping in your bed?" anna had gone ashen, her body seemed to have turned to stone.

"Sometimes."

anna neither spoke nor ate. she sat frozen, staring at the center of the table. I covered her hand with mine.

"You will continue to sleep with me, anna, even when the new girl, pang, is in my bed. she is not replacing you. I love you, anna, and this does not change that. We may both come to love pang, but I will always love you so long as you continue to serve me well. Do you hear me?"

There was a long pause and her voice, when it responded, was barely a whisper, and much too formal.

"Yes, Master."

"That's very respectful, anna. I appreciate that. Now I want you to tell me what you think. I know this is a blow to you, but I don't want it to be. I don't want you to feel threatened by it. I haven't stopped loving you. I just can't allow Peter to toss this girl to the wolves to recoup his goddam investment. Do you know what those brothels are like? The girls live in filthy hovels and are made to service anyone who comes up with the price, with our without a condom. That can mean twenty men a day, or more. Their owner keeps all the money, of course. If they get pregnant, they get a coat hanger abortion. Whatever diseases they pick up, tough shit. If they object or try to run away, they are beaten, often with chains. If they're too troublesome, their owners simply do away with them. They just disappear. Peter apparently has no problem with that. But I do. Do you blame me?"

"No, Master."

"So tell me what you're feeling." There was more silence. "I really want to know, anna. I don't want you to be hurt."

she closed her eyes. Droplets formed under her lashes and slid down her cheeks. she said something, but I couldn't make it out.

"What?"

she raised her voice slightly. "Have i displeased you, Master?"

"Of course not." I wiped her tears with my thumbs and turned her face toward me. "Look at me."

she opened water filled eyes.

"I love you, and that won't change. You've earned the right to eat at my table and sleep in my bed, and that won't change. You've known from the beginning that I have the right to have sex with anyone I choose, and you've watched as I've done so with many women. Yet my love for you remains steadfast because you have won my heart, over and over. That has not changed, and will not change as long as you continue to love me, and prove it with your wholehearted obedience and submission. Do you love me, anna?"

"Yes! But now you will have this new girl. Beautiful and virginal."

"And she will be subordinate to you. In fact, she will be your own submissive. you will have to help me train her to service both me and you."

anna's expression changed subtly. she waited for an expansion on that theme.

"you will always be my chief and favorite slave, anna. you have earned a place by my side in bed and there you will remain except for those occasions when you must be punished. We will take this new girl in and use her for our own pleasure, training her to be a proper submissive and slave, rewarding her when she pleases us and punishing her when she does not."

anna's eyes bored into mine for several moments, digesting this thought "Does this mean i have to share you with her now?"

"There will be two of you."

"i mean, is this new girl going to share your bed?"

"When I wish to fuck her, I may do so in my bed. But she will not replace you. Except on those occasions when you are being punished, you will continue to share my bed. In fact, if I decide to fuck pang in my bed, I will probably want you to join in the fun. You won't object to that, will you?"

"No, Sir. I only ask because . . ." she choked up, unable to look at me.

"you thought you no longer pleased me?"

she nodded, staring at the floor.

"anna, look at me."

she looked up, her eyes filled with longing to be reassured.

"I told you at the very beginning that I will not be monogamous. Nor will you. It pleases me to have sex with other women and it also pleases me to offer you to others. That does not mean either of us loves the other any less. I do not believe that there is any virtue in sexual exclusivity, nor is it synonymous with love. Do you love me any less because you have fucked other men?"

"No, Master!"

"Nor do I love you any less merely because I have fucked other females. Our sexual organs are meant to give us joy, not imprison us in a boring relationship. I take delight in the marvelous variety of pleasure to be derived from the same acts when performed with different partners. I hope that you do, too. It gives me pride of ownership to be able to loan you to others. I take pleasure in watching what they do to you and how you react to them. Erotic pleasure stands by itself, with or without love. Love stands by itself, with or without sex. Sex and love are easily intertwined, but demanding they be joined in a single exclusive relationship is a sad manifestation of human insecurity and animal greed. I am neither insecure nor greedy. This new girl will not make either of us love the other any less. Is that understood?"

she nodded, but it was obvious she was still in pain.

"After dinner I'm going to punish you for even considering the possibility that I might love you less."

she dropped her eyes and nodded again. I tried to glare at her sternly, but I failed. So I took her in my arms and held her a while.

"You'll see," I said. "Her presence here will make our lives together even better. she's not a threat to you. she's an enhancement. she's going to make your life easier and happier. you'll have to help train her, of course, which means you'll get to be the boss, at least part of the day. you're going to enjoy this, anna. I promise you."

she nodded against my neck and I could feel the moisture from her eyes on my skin.

Later in the dungeon, I hung her up by her wrists and flogged her gently until her whole body was bright red. she was moaning softly when I took her down and immediately dropped to the floor on her back, spreading her legs, the signal that she wanted to be ravished. I took her upstairs and chained her in the bed where we tangled in a kind of desperate lovemaking. she clung to me all night, waking twice in the throes of a nightmare. Poor anna. she didn't yet understand that her life was about to get even better.

 

anna's journal, June 23

Yesterday we went to pick up the new girl at Logan Airport. The last leg of her trip was on American Airlines out of Taipei, a twenty-five hour flight. i can't imagine being on a plane that long. i'd be constantly worrying that we'd run out of gas.

i had been agonizing about this for three days, from the moment Master told me he had bought her. That's unrealistic, i know, because He made it painfully clear from the start that someday He'd bring another woman into our house. Didn't He make a great big fat point of it in the Contract? But it's sort of like knowing that someday you're going to die; it's just too abstract to worry about. It isn't until death is a moment away that the reality hits us. That's the way i thought about that clause in the Contract. i loved Master so much, i just couldn't conceive of sharing Him with another woman. Then, when He told me about pang, it was like a blow to the stomach! i was physically sick. my mind was on fire with anger and jealousy, even though i don't have the right to have those feelings! i only have the right to please my Master. But try as i may, i couldn't control the bleakness that gripped me. The pain was worse that anything i suffered that weekend on Master Logan's farm! i drew our kitchen knives out of their wooden block and knew that drawing one of them across my wrists would be much less painful than a whipping in the dungeon. i polished the shiny blades with my tears and envisioned the look on Master's face when He found my body in the pool of my life's blood on the kitchen floor. But i couldn't bring myself to do it, and hated myself for my cowardice.

Then, yesterday morning, just as i thought i'd managed to accept the idea of another girl in His life, He showed my her photo. He may as well have stabbed me. i felt hopeless. she's so beautifu!. And so young. What chance do i have? i'm afraid i was terribly bad for the rest of the day, moping and weeping and making mistakes. Master should have flailed the hide off me last night, but He only whipped me gently with the flogger, which He knows i like because it just stings a little and gets me hot. That made me feel all the worse. O God! i wanted to win his love back and i didn't know how!

Then we were at the airport, watching the passengers stream out of the gate. Men, women, children, babies, carriages, luggage bags bumping from the gate tunnel to the concourse floor. Suddenly, there she was. Master had shown me the picture to help me spot her, but it's pretty damned hard to miss a tiny Cambodian girl in a red dress getting off a plane in Boston with a "Hello!" sticker pasted on her left breast spelling out "PANG" in big block letters. And especially when she's the loveliest thing in the goddam airport! My heart sank. she was far more beautiful than her picture, a doll-like figure with huge almond eyes, flawless bronze skin, and an expression of frightened innocence that would melt any heart, especially if it were male. Hell, she even melted mine

"pang!" Master shouted as He moved toward her.

The girl stopped short, her eyes widening in fear as she stared at the large-framed man coming toward her. She remained frozen as he took the handle of her carry-on luggage from her hand and gave it to me.

"You are pang?" He said to the frightened girl.

"i apologize, Master," she said in a thick accent. "i do not speak English."

"That's all right," He said. He gestured toward me. "This is anna. anna, this is pang."

"Hi, pang," i said.

"i apologize, Master," she said to me, "i do not speak English."

Master turned to me. "It seems she has been taught at least one English phrase. Let's get her through Customs and to the car as quickly as possible. She has no other luggage, so we can skip the carousels."

"This is her only luggage?" i asked incredulously, forgetting to ask permission.

"Just this. Doesn't matter. We'll stop at some shops and buy her an appropriate wardrobe, some cosmetics and other things she'll need to make her a suitable slave." (Master has never punished me for that outburst or for the many others i made during that excursion, so i guess there are some advantages to having another slave to distract Him.)

He rummaged through her carry-on and found the papers He needed to clear her through Customs. Then He took her firmly by the elbow and led her through Customs and to our car and to a few shops in Boston where He bought a half dozen outfits for her, plus the toiletries and cosmetics she would need to satisfy his standards for hygiene and appearance. He let me help her pick out the intimate feminine things she would need. she was so pliant and respectful (unlike most eighteen year olds!) that i couldn't help but like her, in spite of myself. she was actually a very sweet girl, and obviously terrified. It was clear she understood she was a slave and was expected to be absolutely obedient. God knows what else she had been told to expect.

As we drove home, pang in the back seat and me in the front with Master, he said to me, "pang is going to be a great help to you in terms of your daily chores. she is subordinate to you, which means that you have my permission to require her to carry out whatever tasks you wish. One of your responsibilities will be to teach her English. You will do this by talking to her throughout the day as though she can understand you. Eventually, she will begin to do so. You have told me that one of the most difficult parts of your slavery is being alone so much of the time with no one to talk to, isn't that true?"

"Yes, Master."

"So it will be pleasant for you to have a slave to talk to all day, won't it?"

"Yes, Master, except that she won't understand a word i say."

"For a while she won't. But how did you learn to speak, anna?"

"i don't know. From my parents, i guess.

"Exactly. As young children we learn to communicate by imitating the sounds our parents make as they communicate ideas to us. You will do the same thing. At first it's a one-way communication, but eventually she will catch on to what certain sounds mean, and ultimately what all sounds mean. She's still young enough for such learning to be fairly easy, especially since there will be no reference to the language she already knows. For her it will not be the complex matter of translating from one language to another, but the simpler process of absorbing a whole new system of communication as naturally as a child does it. The key is that you must talk to her all day long. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good."

It took me a while, but eventually i worked up the nerve to press the matter further.

"May i speak, Master?"

"Of course. I want you to."

"What if she doesn't say anything? i mean, i'll have to show her what i want her to do, and how to do it. What if she just does what she's shown and doesn't try to talk?" What a stupid question! i guess i had hoped He would say He'd send her back. But He didn't.

"After showing her a few times and telling her in words, you will change to just telling her to do it. If she fails to learn, she must be punished. I hereby give you authority to punish her when she fails to obey you. As I told you before, you are my chief slave and she is under you. she must obey first me and then you. If you choose to tie her up and whip her, you may do so, providing you do not cause her serious injury. If she requires more severe punishment, you must remand her to me and we will together see that she suffers the appropriate punishment. she is our slave, anna. Both mine and yours. she will never rise above you in our household. Is that clear?"

i took a deep breath. "Yes, Master."

This might work out, yet.

By the time we got home, pang appeared to be either freaked out or dazzled by her new environment. It was impossible to tell since she couldn't express herself. She seemed to be electrified, as though she were wired on uppers. i have no idea what her life at home had been like, but it must have been nothing like this. her eyes were wide and she gripped my hand tightly as i led her out of the car into the house. It's not that she seemed afraid. More like awed and exhilarated. i followed Master into the library, towing pang behind me.

"I believe our new slave thinks she has died and gone to heaven," Master said, knowing that His words were gibberish to the girl. "she grew up in the most miserable poverty and may never have seen this kind of luxury. We must make sure she knows her place. We need to impress upon her immediately that she has not come here to be a princess, but a slave, and that the quality of her life here will be totally at my discretion. Take off your clothes, anna."

i failed to see how my getting naked would put pang in her place, but it was my normal condition anyway, so i stripped my dress over my head and kicked off my shoes. pang gasped when she saw i wore nothing underneath.

"Excellent," Master said when i was nude. "Now undress pang, and talk to her as you do it." He pointed at her so she would know i was acting on His orders. "Tell her what you're doing as you do it."

Her dress had a series of buttons in front from the neck down to about her navel. I began slowly unbuttoning them from the top while she stared at me with an appalled intensity, as if i were a vampire preparing her for a snack. All the while i maintained a steady reassuring chatter in a soothing voice, smiling at her as i worked my way down the row of buttons. she never flinched as i lifted the dress over her head, leaving her clad only in a gray bra and thick cotton panties. i knelt down and gently removed the cheap vinyl heels she was wearing.

Master produced a pair of scissors from the drawer of a secretary's desk and handed them to me. "Cut off her undergarments," He said.

i pulled the fabric of her bra away from her skin as i snipped so the cold blade of the scissors wouldn't frighten her. i could more easily have unsnapped it, of course, but Master wanted me to cut it off, so that's what i did. As the bra began to fall away, she threw her hands over her breasts to hold the cups in place. i looked at Master for direction.

"Take it off her," He said.

Gently, i pried the bra from under her hands which she kept firmly planted over her breasts. Next i cut through her panties, first one side, then the other, and yanked the severed fabric away from her body. she squealed in distress as one hand instantly flew to cover her crotch while the other tried to hide both nipples at once. she didn't try to run off, but she was clearly in a state of acute embarrassment.

"I am informed that pang was entirely aware of what she was agreeing to in the contract she signed," Master said. "this display of modesty is therefore disingenuous. I won't allow it."

"But did she sign it willingly or was she forced to by her parents?" i asked.

"Doesn't matter. she's damned lucky she wound up as my slave rather than any of the scuzzy brothel owners who were also bidding for her. In fact, she's doubly lucky that Peter sold her to Me, because He was ready to sell her to any pimp who would pay the price. No, she's one lucky slave if her only worry at this moment is that I might get a peek at her tits and cunt. I'll soon cure her of that."

As He talked, He went to the same drawer and pulled out leather cuffs for her wrists and ankles which he handed to me. When i had locked them in place, He came up behind her, wrenched her arms behind her back and snapped her wrists together. Next He locked a dog collar around her neck and attached a chain leash to it.

"Now, lead her around the room in a circle until she's able to hold her head up and stop sniveling," he ordered.

i couldn't bear to look at the girl's face. It was a picture of misery. But i knew Master was right. She'd get used to being naked. It was just a matter of time. And there's nothing like being naked 24/7 to make a profound difference in how you view your place in a world that's dressed to the teeth. As the evening wore on, i led her all over the house, through every room (except the dungeon). she was very hungry after her long series of flights, but Master made us both eat out of bowls on the floor. i kept my hands behind my back to show her how to do it. she looked disconcerted at this treatment, but when she saw me doing it, she pushed her face into her own bowl and gobbled her meal with enthusiasm.

she also had trouble relieving herself in front of Master and me. But when she saw me do it first and that there would be no alternative privacy, she closed her eyes and emptied her bladder noisily into the toilet.

When we all moved to the bedroom and i helped Master strip, her eyes hardened into resignation. This is what she had been mentally preparing herself for; her new Owner was now ready to end her virginity. she was fidgety, an anxious mixture of erotic curiosity, sadness and fear. i kept thinking of the boy who had taken my own virginity, that very first entry of a male organ into my most secret place. i remembered a similar mixture of fear and excitement, except that in my case it was a boy that i had chosen myself to break the seal of my womanhood. For me it was a sexual adventure seasoned with a heady dose of defiance, not a contracted obligation with a stranger twice my age. For pang this was neither passion nor rape, but more like the arranged loveless marriages which continues to be the lot of women in many cultures. Still, my own fantasies of rape came back to life as i led her up to Master's bed. i actually envied her.

Then i noticed that Master had done a strange thing. He had put down a pallette on the side of the bed opposite the side where my own pallette was placed when i was being punished. He had me bring pang to her pallette and chained her ankle to the foot of the bed and her collar to the headboard, just as He did to me when I was bad. He pointed to the pallette until she got the point and laid down on it; then he covered her with a blanket. After He chained me to the other side, He gestured for me to get into the bed with Him. He began to make love to me. i could hardly believe it! He didn't ask me to do anything, just covered me with kisses and played with me and ate me and drove me to orgasm after orgasm with His tongue, fingers and His magnificent cock!

My dear Master! How could i have doubted Him? He saw that i was in an agony of jealousy, even though i am too obedient to complain, so He made love to me right in front of her to show us both that i am still His number one slave, that He still loves me. We all know that He will soon claim His right to her body, but by taking me first, and so passionately, He put my mind more at ease, and pang in her place. For the first time in three days i didn't cry myself to sleep.

Chapter 17

When I saw pang emerge from the American Airlines gate at Logan, I knew I had made a wise investment. In the flesh she was even more beautiful than her photo. she has a natural grace that's just exquisite, and she's so shy by nature that it's hard for her not to keep her eyes lowered. I knew right away she'd be easy to train. I also realized why that ass Peter couldn't resist buying her. How fortunate he offered her to me when his ill considered stock portfolio went sour, and didn't simply unload her to the highest bidder from the third world sex industry.

Unlike Peter, I'm strongly opposed to forcing myself on unwilling females. He makes little distinction between voluntary and involuntary servitude, but I do. I wanted pang as a willing slave, deliberately yielding possession of her body and self to a loving but strong Master. She had signed an agreement that amounted to de facto slavery, but mainly because of coercion from her family. They had turned her into chattel for their financial purposes and she had agreed to it out of a strong sense of family duty. But the time would come when pang would be able to understand and speak English; if by then she had not come wholly to understand and accept her place as my slave, she could be trouble. she would learn that in this part of the world slavery is not a sub rosa tradition, involuntary sexual services are considered rape, and law enforcement is not in league with either slave holders or rapists.

In other words, I could not just order the girl into my bed and fuck her. Nor could I apply harsh discipline on a whim. she had to be groomed into wanting these things, asking for them. I wanted no ambiguity on those points.

It was anna's job to ease pang into an appreciation of life as my slave. I explained to anna that I wanted pang to embrace her slavery in this household as enthusiastically as anna did herself. The first step was toward turning anna into an effective teacher was to reassure her that pang was not a potential replacement for her, or even competition. Rather, she was a helpmate, a companion, a colleague. I told anna over and over that she is number one in my heart and will remain so. It will be easy to fall in love with pang, but despite the nonsensical teachings of our culture, humans are easily able to love more than one person at a time. However, anna will continue to hold first place in my heart no matter how many slaves I eventually add to our household and come to love. To drive that point home, I indulged in a prolonged session of lovemaking with anna on the bed while pang watched from her pallette on the floor beside us.

anna turned out to be an extraordinary teacher. Within a few days pang became accustomed to being naked around the house, including the dog collar locked around her neck and the leather cuffs locked to her wrists and ankles. she quickly picked up on the more obvious rules, like not using the furniture without permission. She was there at the door kneeling beside anna when I arrived home, offering me the martini and her leash, while anna offered the whip and a newspaper. she learned how to assume the various positions on command and help anna serve me my dinner and breakfast before taking her place on the floor to lap food and water out of her bowls.

I deliberately refrained from sexual contact with her. In good time she would ask for it.

We set up a schedule of schooling for her to learn English. anna taught her for an hour and a half in the morning and another hour in the afternoon. pang would then spend a half hour in the evening showing me what she had learned that day. she was a very quick study, probably because she hated being isolated in a world of gibberish.

anna had always kept a log book in which she entered her daily shortcomings, confessed them orally to me in the living room after-dinner and accepted punishment for them in the dungeon later in the evening. Now she set up a separate log book for pang and whenever pang broke the rules or failed to obey her, she found a way to point out her transgression and made a show of entering it in the book. As she reported each misdemeanor to me during the debriefing session, she pointed it out on the page to pang as well. Then I would pass sentence in terms of the number of whip strokes she would receive for each, holding up an equal number of fingers for pang to count.

In the dungeon I would repeat the same process to make sure she made the connection between her error and the punishment. anna always took her punishment first while pang knelt nearby and watched. anna would hand me the flogger (the one with the multiple soft leather tails), clip her own wrist cuffs together and attach them to a hook at the end of a rope which ran through a pulley overhead. I would then pull her arms straight up, intone her offense (pointing it out in the book for pang's benefit) and wait as anna asked me formally to inflict the sentence I had pronounced upstairs. The flogger smacked her naked flesh with enough sting to make her flinch and redden the skin. After going through her list of offenses in this way, she would kiss the whip and thank me for her punishment.

Then it was pang's turn. Same routine. She would attach her own restraints and I would announce each infraction, pointing to the log entry. At the end of her flogging, her skin tingling and red, she would kiss the shaft of the whip and thank me as anna had taught her to do. When she was released from her restraints, we all hugged each other and exchanged kisses, then retired to my bedroom where pang took her place on the palette and anna joined me in the bed. Both females were chained in place for the night, but the difference in their status was abundantly clear.

It was evident to both anna and me that pang had begun to enjoy these sessions in the dungeon. By the second week I had started to vary the means of restraint to keep it interesting. I might tie them over a barrel, or strap them to the St. Andrews Cross, or just have them bend over and hold their ankles. Once I lashed them together, breast to breast, and flogged them alternately. I introduced other instruments of punishment: the belt, the single tail, the rubber hose, the cane. But the strokes remained soft and erotic, stinging them, making them gasp and squirm, but not really hurting them.

Inevitably, this leniency led pang into teenage overconfidence (as I knew it would) and she decided to test the boundaries of our tolerance. That's when she made her first serious transgression. It was a critical moment and it marked the turning point for her life as a dedicated slave.

 

anna's journal, July 18

Well! princess pang finally got her comeuppance, her first dose of real punishment. Master and i have been pussyfooting around her up till now, punishing her with love taps, then getting all kissy and huggy to let her know she's loved. Master was convinced that by guiding her slowly into bdsm she'd come to find happiness in life as a submissive. Like me! So she's been getting away with a lot of shit! Moaning and rolling her eyes when i make her do household chores instead of watching TV, or when i make her sit on the floor instead of the furniture (especially at lunchtime — she hates to sit on the kitchen floor when we could be sitting at the table), or when she forgets and enters a room Master is in without asking permission. But all she's ever gotten for punishment has been a tender little whipping with the soft-tailed flogger, which she actually enjoys as much as i do. What kind of "punishment" is that? Master flogs me like that just to get me hot!

But she finally went too far. Master loves Brussels sprouts and i had prepared some for him, nicely buttered, sprinkled with lemon and arrayed around a juicy T-bone steak. But when pang saw them in her bowl on the floor, she wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "You must eat what you are given, pang," i told her, "whether you like it or not." she probably didn't understand all that i said, but she's learned enough English by now to know what "must" and "eat" mean. she just frowned at the sprouts for a moment and shook her head again.

Master was now watching to see how i would handle the situation with my submissive, so i pointed sternly at the bowl and said, "EAT!"

Then, to my horror, pang shoved the bowl away and shouted back, "NO!"

"Bring me her book!" Master said, glaring at her.

i recognized the menace in His tone of voice, so i moved quickly to where i keep her log book in the secretary's desk and brought it to Him. As much as i wanted to gloat, i kept my face straight; she was going to get it now! Master made a show of writing in the book, then gesturing to the bowl and to pang.

"For that disrespectful show of disobedience, pang, you will be severely punished! anna, cuff her hands behind her and stand her over there in the corner. she will remain there until we are finished. And I don't want to see her face."

pang still looked defiant (why would she fear another erotic flogging?) but didn't resist as i padlocked her leather cuffs together behind her back and led her to the far corner of the room. she remained there quietly facing the wall as Master and i finished our dinner. she was still there as i cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher, her head drooping as Master sat and glared at her. i think she had begun to feel trepidation; this was not building to just another playful flogging.

When my chores were finished, i followed Master down to the dungeon pulling pang along on a leash, her wrists still locked behind her back. Master had lowered a hook from a rope running through a pulley in the ceiling grid. He attached it to her cuffs and pulled her arms up as high as they would go behind her, forcing her to bend over so that her rump was nicely presented for the coming punishment. He kicked her feet apart and handed me a spreader bar, ordering me to connect her ankle cuffs to the bar. Next he forced a thick Lucite bar into her mouth as a bit gag and cinched it tightly in place with leather thongs. He took down from the wall rack a large metal hook with a rounded point and a rope attached to the other end. He squirted some oil on the point of the hook and without warning rammed it into pang's exposed asshole, making her hop and grunt. The rope He quickly threaded under the thong harness for her gag, pulling it taut so that her head was pulled up and her back was deeply arched. By now she was whimpering in extreme discomfort, but Master wasn't finished preparing her. He had ordered me to bring him two of the most savage nipple clamps in his collection which he promptly attached to the points of her ripe young breasts, converting her whimpers to squeals of pain. He then used fishing cord to connect the clamps to her big toes. This ensured that any movement she might make in any direction to relieve her growing discomfort would only result in redoubled pain to her nipples and greater general discomfort.

Now Master was ready to mete out her punishment. To make sure she understood what he was doing and why, He showed her the log book once again, pointing to the entry that recorded her insolent behavior.

"You disobeyed anna who was carrying out my order," he said, assuming that she would understand the import of His words, if not the words themselves. her eyes glistened with tears as they darted fearfully between the damning notation and the angry face of her owner. "That kind of impudent defiance is absolutely forbidden. For it you will now be punished with seven hard strokes of the cane." He showed her seven fingers.

From the collection of whips, belts, floggers and other instruments of discipline arrayed on the wall He selected a medium weight ratan cane. He displayed it to pang with a look of grim determination, but i could tell that He was enjoying the panic that set his victim into painful attempts to shake her head. she knew what a cane was for and wailed uselessly through the Lucite dowel filling her mouth, unable to form words to plead for mercy, drool dripping off her chin and spattering on the floor. Master ignored her efforts, positioning Himself for a full swing to give the cane its cruelest effect. The first blow to her exposed bottom drew a piercing scream. He waited for her to subside, then delivered another equally as harsh. she screamed again and yanked frantically against her restraints in an involuntary effort to shake off the pain. By the third stroke she was crying and at the fourth she broke into pathetic sobs. By the time seven angry welts had been raised on the soft globes of her pretty butt, she was choking on tears and drool.

Master left her there to suffer the escalating pain of her harsh restraints which soon overrode the after-burn of the caning. He strung me up in front of her for the usual session of playful flogging followed by a vibrator to my clit that made me cry out with pleasure as my body bucked in orgasm. She watched through her tears as He took me down and put me on my knees, ordering me to open his pants and put his engorged member into my mouth. i don't know what was going through her head at the sight, but i didn't care. i love serving my Master in this way because i know just how to fondle and lick and suck on His lovely cock and balls to give Him maximum pleasure.

But he didn't allow Himself to cum. Just before He reached the point of climax, He stopped me and went over to pang, releasing her from her bonds. She screamed again as He opened the jaws of the nipple clamps with deliberate suddenness (oh how well i know that pain!) but she was otherwise subdued and obviously grateful to be freed from the brutal restraints.

her lesson had not ended, however. Master pointed at the floor beside me and made her kneel there. Once again He allowed me to take His manhood into my mouth and restore it to full erectness. Then he withdrew and presented it to pang.

"Take it in your mouth!" he ordered.

she hesitated just long enough for Master to yell it at her again. i do believe this was the first time she had ever been sexual with a man. she took in a deep breath, parted her lips and gingerly slid her mouth over the hard shaft. her huge brown eyes looked up into His, searching for approbation. He nodded, encouraging her to continue. she copied what she had watched me do, or maybe it just came naturally to her, but soon Master's eyes rolled up and His breathing quickened. He grabbed the back of her head and began pounding deeply into her mouth. she gagged and swallowed, gagged and swallowed, her face a sickly contortion of panic and fear. But she stayed with it and kept Him snugly in her mouth as his spasms ceased and He began to relax. When He was sufficiently recovered, He pulled His semi-turgid staff just clear of her lips and ordered her to clean it. She looked up at Him in confusion and began to put it in her mouth again. He pulled away from her and presented it to my mouth.

"Show her," He said. i licked all around the head and shaft, cleaning it. A few seconds later He put it back in front of pang's face and said, "Now, YOU do it!"

she got the point. Out came her little pink tongue and she finished what i had started, licking Him clean — glans, shaft and scrotum.

Later, in bed, with pang resting tranquilly on her palette beside us, Master told me it's time to give her more serious training.

"She now knows what severe punishment is like and will want to avoid it," He said, "so she can be pushed harder with less coddling. she also went along with the oral sex without fuss so she's ready to be trained in the sexual component of her slavery. At this point I'm not going to soft-pedal the implications of slavery for her any more. If she doesn't cotton to it, if she can't be trained as a willing submissive, the hell with her. I'll do what Peter would have done: sell her to one of His Mexican contacts where she'll disappear forever as a whore slave. I'm ordering you to start amping up her awareness and appreciation of her sexuality, to make sure she develops a craving for sexual gratification. It's time she stops being a fucking virgin and starts being a proper slave slut. But I want her to ask for it. To beg for it! If I have to rape her to bust her damned cherry, I will, but if I do, it will be her one-way ticket to Central America. I won't keep her around if she might become a danger to me. Still, it would be a shame to waste such a tender young snatch, so see to it that it doesn't happen."

That speech had me so upset i barely slept all night. Much as i fear pang's incredible beauty and worry that she'll steal my dear Master's love, she doesn't deserve to be discarded like so much garbage. Basically she's a very sweet girl who would not long survive slavery in the vicious inhumanity of the third world sex industry. i adore being Master's slave and suffering whatever pain gives Him pleasure to inflict because, in return, i earn the privilege of living with Him and sharing His love. But being a sex prisoner in a Mexican brothel is a grueling death where there is no pleasure and no love.

Turns out i needn't have worried, though. As soon as we had shown Master off to work this morning, pang turned to me and asked shyly in her budding English, "When Master will have sex to me?"

She's hotter to trot than we thought!

Chapter 18

anna was really upset the night I told her I'd sell pang to the Mexican whore market if she didn't shape up soon. she probably figures that if I would do that to pang, I might do it to her someday. Well, maybe I might. And maybe it's good that anna should develop a healthy sense of fear. Who wants a cocky slave? As for pang, I meant every word. If she fails to work out as a slave, why should I spend a thousand bucks to ship her back to Cambodia? In fact, why should I spend ten cents on a useless female? Her parents will probably just put her back on the auction block and sell her again. Add to their profit. Why would they care? They've already written her off. Might as well recoup a few grand on her purchase price myself. Peter knows several undercover prostitution rings that would pay handsomely for such a nice piece of ass. Maybe he's not such a twit after all.

At any rate, that caning and twenty minutes in strappado with her tits tied to her toes did wonders for pang's attitude. It made me realize that I'd been too easy on the girl. What she needed to bring her around was some real discipline. Apparently, according to anna's reports, she'd been itching to lose her virginity, too. The little slut actually asked anna when I was going to do her. I could see that her taste for the whip had been growing, as well. It was time to get her acquainted with real bondage and turn up the voltage on her training for sexual service.

The next evening as I came through the door to be greeted by my two slaves, I introduced a variation to the ritual. I took the proffered martini, whip, leash and newspaper, set them on the secretary's desk and ordered both girls on their hands and knees, side by side, doggie style. pang didn't quite understand the words but she replicated anna's position. I walked slowly around to their rear and admired their pretty rumps, anna's on my right and pang's on my left. I wet the fore and middle fingers of my right hand and began stroking anna's clit. she moaned with pleasure and I caught pang peeking around her shoulder to see what I was doing to her mistress. After a few minutes and without stopping my pleasuring of anna, I wet the same fingers of my left hand and started stroking pang's clit. her eyes widened and she gave a little grunt of surprise. It was probably the first time a man had ever touched her there. Within seconds her mouth was open to emit gentle little moans and her hips were moving to the rhythm of my fingers. This was a virgin ripe to be fucked! she would soon lose that useless piece of membrane, but it would be done in the context of her slavery to reinforce her association of pleasure with pain and submission. she must understand that any pleasure for her must be earned by pain and submission. Furthermore, I wanted it perfectly clear in her mind that she had, of her own free will and desire, given herself to me as a piece of property, to do with as I please.

I stepped between the two slaves, pointed at pang and said, "Stay!" she looked fearful and confused but guessed correctly what I had ordered and didn't move. Then I pointed at anna and said, "Roll over on your back, doggie, and beg for it!" giving the appropriate rolling gesture.

she complied immediately, holding her hands and feet in the air like paws and spreading her legs wide. I nodded, smiled at her and patted her moist cunt. "Good doggie," I cooed.

Then I turned to pang with the identical order and gesture. she did exactly as anna had done and waited for me to pat her as well, which I did. her virginal pussy was also dampened with growing excitement. "Good doggie," I said, then pointed at her sharply and said, "Stay!" I turned to anna. "Go on your hands and knees like the good doggie you are and fetch another leash and a cane. Bring them back in your mouth." she rolled to her hands and knees and scrambled away to the closet, returning with a chain leash and ratan cane clamped in her teeth. she rocked back on her haunches and held her "paws" up like a begging dog as I took them from her mouth. I turned to pang. "On your hands and knees!" I said, using the roll-over gesture to clarify the order. she had picked up on the game and obeyed promptly, eyeing the cane worriedly. I attached a leash to the collars of both doggies and led them into the living room where I ordered them to kneel-up, facing each other.

"May i speak, Master?" anna asked softly.

"Dogs don't talk," I snapped.

"Please, Master, it's important."

"All right. No more than five words. Choose them carefully."

There was a pause as she mentally counted her words. "Your dinner will get cold," she said.

"Then you will be punished appropriately," I answered.

she hung her head and kept silent. she knows better than to whine about fairness. Having done her duty by warning me, she trusted me to make her "punishment" more playful than punitive. she also knew, of course, that had she objected to the obvious injustice, her punishment would have been real, and extremely unpleasant.

Walking between them, I tapped the inside of their thighs with the cane. "Spread your legs wider." When I was satisfied that their cunts were comfortably exposed for the exercise they were about to perform, I said to anna, "Play with yourself. I want you to make yourself cum. And don't hold back; I want pang to see that you're enjoying it."

anna smiled, closed her eyes, and went to work on herself, stimulating her clit with one hand and her nipples with the other. Having been primed earlier with my fingers, it didn't take long for her body to respond. her breathing became faster and shuddery. Small moans grew louder, her lips pulled back in a grimace of explosive pleasure and she cried out and stiffened, love juice squirting onto her fingers. As her body began to slump in the aftermath of her orgasm, I took her hand from between her legs and held her wet fingers close to pang's mouth. "Lick them!" I said, miming my order. pang, mesmerized by the spectacle, did as she was told and licked the cream off anna's fingers. "Good girl," I said soothingly, patting her on the head. I then leaned over and kissed first anna, then pang on the mouth. Lingering kisses. Both their tongues came out to meet mine.

I took pang's right hand and placed it gently on her sex, placing the other hand on a breast as anna had done. "Now your turn," I said firmly. "Do it! Play with yourself."

The girl cut her eyes to anna for confirmation. Was she really expected to do what she had just observed anna doing? The answer was a smile and a vigorous nod from anna, who caressed herself again, lest there be any doubt. If any real shyness and modesty had still been inhibiting the little Cambodian beauty, it disappeared in the next few moments as she began an enthusiastic emulation of anna's performance, cumming in wild bodily jerks and thrusts. she looked down in amazement at her hand, now smeared with the glistening evidence of her orgasm.

"Good girl," I said, patting her head as I had anna's, and presented her hand to anna so she could lick it clean. Again I kissed them both, longer this time, and more passionately. Then I ordered both girls on their hands and knees and presented my tumescent organ for pang to lubricate with her mouth. My own excitement at that point, combined with the lavishness of her sucking and licking, drew me quickly to the edge. I knew I wouldn't have time to transfer to anna, so I held pang's pretty face in my hands and came in her mouth, remaining there until she had swallowed all of it. she smiled up at me and licked her lips. This girl was hooked; she was ready for serious training.

 

anna's journal, July 20

Master has changed the door routine. Now i hold up His martini with my right hand while i hold a leash connected to pang's collar with the left. she holds up a whip and another leash which Master takes and attaches to my collar. Then he leads us on our hands and knees down into the dungeon for some pre-dinner play. That is, he pulls me along on my leash and i pull pang behind me holding the leather handle of her leash in my teeth. He explained that doing it that way symbolizes our order of rank so that pang will know that while we both are His slaves, she must also serve me. i love that! she gets to clean the toilets and the floors and do a lot of the scut work that i hate. And if she disobeys me, Master gives me permission to punish her when He comes home.

Last evening, after He led us to the dungeon, He told us that He was going to whip us for His pleasure, that He would use different whips for each of us and that i, as the senior slave, would go first and have the first choice of whips. Naturally, i selected the soft tailed flogger. He made pang crawl into a tiny, cube-shaped, wooden box less than three feet to a side. The top was in two halves forming a stock with holes for her head and hands, which is all you could see of her once he locked her in. The box was positioned so she could watch what he did with me.

He sat me in a wooden chair and brought over a heavy iron bar with a large U-bolt in the center and two smaller U-bolts at the ends for my head and wrists. He tightened the nuts so that the U-bolts pinned my neck so firmly to the bar that it was hard to swallow, but then He stuffed a ball gag in my mouth so all i could do was drool anyway. He attached pulley chains to the bar and hauled it up, pulling me to my feet. After shoving the chair out of the way, He brought over a similar iron bar with just the U-bolts at the ends and clamped my ankles to it. He hauled the top bar a little higher still so that i had to stand on tip-toes or hang by my head and hands. It didn't take long for my burning calf muscles to give out, forcing me to alternate between the two extremely uncomfortable options. Meanwhile Master went to work on me with the flogger, relentlessly delivering hard blows to my back, bottom, breasts, belly, arms and legs for what seemed like an hour until my whole body was burning red and tears were streaming down my cheeks. Suddenly the lashing stopped, followed immediately by the intense sensation on my clit of the big vibrator we affectionately call Mr. Buzz. Master played it right on my clit and within half a minute my body senses exploded in a gigantic orgasm, then another, and another! Forced orgasms are both extreme pleasure and pain as the clit becomes exceedingly sensitive. I was moaning with pleasure and trying to twist away from it at the same time. It stopped, but Master was soon setting up a mechanical fucking machine with a black plastic dildo. He slid in into my very wet cunt and turned it on where it's continuous plunging action set off still more orgasms.

While i was dealing with that, Master took pang out of her box and led her to the array of whips remaining on the wall. He gestured to them and told her to make a choice. There was no use her pretending she didn't understand because He had just gone through the same routine with me. The flogger was no longer in contention and the dismayed expression on her face made it plain that she didn't like any of the other choices. But she had learned not to defy Master's instructions, so she pointed nervously at a riding crop, the kind with a flexible stock wrapped in leather and a loop at the tip. It would not have been my second choice, but pang probably had no experience with a riding whip and had no idea of how much it hurts. Well, she was about to find out.

Master laid her face down on the floor and placed a six foot length of 2x4 cross-wise over her shoulders, then strapped her arms to it at the wrists, forearms, upper arms and shoulders. He stood her up and tied her long dark hair to the end of a rope which ran through two pulleys, one directly over her head, the other about eight feet to her right. He threaded the other end of the rope through the ring on her right ankle cuff and raised her leg up to a 90 degree angle (that girl is really limber!) where he tied off the rope. Now she had to balance on her left leg and hold her right leg up to avoid a painful pull at her hair. It was physically impossible. her leg muscles tired quickly in that position and she was soon whimpering from the stress and making plaintive pleading noises in her native language. Master stopped that by stuffing her mouth with a rag and securing it with duct tape. In the next moment He took her mind off those sufferings by giving her cause to regret her choice of whips. He didn't flail her very hard, i have to say, but the riding crop has a ferocious sting on human flesh, even when applied lightly. By the time he had decorated her front, back and legs with a latticework of red stripes, she was giving little muffled cries with every blow and had definitely regretted her choice of whips. To offset what she had suffered during the whipping, Master applied Mr. Buzz to pang's virginal clit, and in spite of her discomfort, she came. Loudly!

i was in my own personal hellish heaven by that time, my vagina sore from the thrusting of the dildo, my body unable to resist the pain-mangled orgasms. Mercifully, Master shut off the machine and i was back to concentrating on the alternating agonies of hanging from the wooden stock or forcing myself to stand on tiptoes in spite of my burning, cramping calf muscles. my sobbing must have gotten to Master because He let me down first. When i was free, i crawled to His feet, kissed His shoes and thanked Him for allowing me to give Him pleasure. pang was too wrapped up in feeling sorry for herself and had to feel the sting of the crop again before she smartened up and copied my behavior.

As a reward for our endurance, Master allowed us each a glass of wine with our dinner. He even let pang use the glass instead of lapping it out of her bowl.

Later that night Master invited pang into His bed for the first time so she could give Him head and a hand job before He made love to me. He made me finger her cunt as she did it. He said this was a turning point that signaled to pang that she was part of our "family" now and was earning her way to full acceptance as our slave. His slave first, but mine as well. i like this arrangement. i no longer resent pang's moving in. she's a big help around the house and, to be honest, i've grown fond of playing with her. Master encourages it. He likes to watch. i'm still a little nervous about what will happen when He starts fucking her. She's so damned beautiful with that little doll face and those big puppy eyes. Will He begin to love her more than me? But i keep reminding myself, this is not a marriage or a partnership. i have no rights to Master's feelings, much less His loyalty. It is He who owns me , not the other way around.

Chapter 19

The next step in pang's training was to immerse her into the bdsm community so she could see other submissives in action, especially other slaves. It was important that she accept her role as a lifestyle choice, not merely a means of survival in my household. I decided that a visit to Jason Moore's house would be just the thing because his two slaves, oriana and mya, are well trained and would be good role models for her to observe. Jason was more than happy to cooperate. He loves to show off his two beauties, putting them through their paces, and he especially loves having some fresh poon to assuage his bottomless sexual appetite.

Immediately Jason wanted to expand the party, "add the spice of variety to the evening's entertainment," as he put it. He was frustrated because I would not yet allow pang's deflowering. He was intent on increasing the supply of available pussy, so he also invited Dr. Lorenz and his slave-wife julie, as well as Edmund Renault with his slave sweetpee. I hadn't seen Jake Lorenz and julie since that delightful trip to the island on the Titipoo . Ed was the vice president of my bank and had been the first man with whom I had shared anna back in the hot tub of the Iron Collar Club where he had put sweetpee on display in the electrical torture exhibit. I remembered the snit sweetpee had thrown when Ed fucked anna and was curious to see if he had trained his buxom blonde beauty properly since then. At any rate, the list of attendees ended up as four Masters and six slaves. Not a bad mix for a lech like Jason, even if the virgin vagina was off limits.

Occasions like this tend to bring out the competitive spirit among slave owners in the matter of dressing up their properties. Free women are endlessly absorbed in the quest for fitting in and looking good, of course, but it is not at all a friendly competition; it is a subtle and ongoing struggle to stand out while fitting in, to be utterly appropriate for the time, place and occasion while outgunning all others in the matter of exuding style, grace and sex. For us, however, dressing our females has a simple objective: who can come up with the sexiest outfit? An outfit that makes the slut so irresistible that the other males present feel an irrepressible desire to tear off the covering and ravish the contents!

Jason has no sense of style at all, so he leaves it to mya, his chief slave. her taste veers to the Hollywood Oscar look with lots of flash and cleavage.

Ed generally gets his ideas from Maxim or some girlie zine or other, which usually results in sweetpee looking like a cheap, over-endowed hooker on the make. A great look!

Jake likes costumes. I expected julie would show up as an over-sexed hippie, or a French maid. Something like that.

I myself am inclined to favor sexy cocktail dresses or costumes of a classic nature; Greco-Roman or Egyptian, perhaps. I flirted with the idea of dressing anna and pang as twins, but decided against it. For one thing, anna and pang could hardly have looked more different — anna being blond, blue eyed and very fair skinned, where pang's hair and eyes were a deep brown and her skin a luscious Asian bronze. Hardly twin-like. Furthermore, anna — in spite of her denials — was still a bit jealous of pang. So I decided to dress anna in a sexy little number consisting of a black silk sash that draped around the back of her neck and cris-crossed over her breasts to tie in back at the waist line, leaving her back bare. she wore a matching black micro skirt that ended at mid-thigh, black high heeled strap shoes and black net stockings. It was all set off with her beautiful gold collar with matching gold wrist and ankle cuffs. By contrast, I put pang in creamy white outfit (she was, after all, the only virgin in sight). It was at first glance primly demur, but on closer inspection titillatingly naughty. It consisted of front and back panels that dropped from neck to ankle, tied together with silk ribbons at the shoulders and waist. Any movement of her body, especially walking, caused the panels to gape apart revealing her lack of undergarments. The material was a course weave that was opaque when lighted from the front, but virtually transparent when back-lighted. she wore gladiator sandals with leather thongs half-way up her calf and a plain leather dog collar around her throat. anna led her about on a leather leash looking smugly superior.

We were the first guests to arrive so I had the opportunity to watch Jason's slaves in action. mya, his chief slave, had chosen a gown of velvet burgundy with a high stand-up collar like Disney's evil queen in Snow White . The neckline plunged down to just below her navel to give us a scintillating view both of her sumptuous cleavage and diamond navel ring. The dress continued down to the floor, but with a split front that parted as she walked to give saucy peeks at her long legs and rouged pussy. She greeted each Master at the door warmly and invited him in, correctly ignoring his slave. oriana, her underling, immediately appeared with a tray of drinks and hors d-oeuvres to offer him, again paying no attention to his slave. mya had dressed oriana in a frilly blue maid's costume with a skirt that barely covered her bottom and feminine cleft. A large oval cutout in the center of her top expanded outward nearly to her nipples, presenting a spectacular display of her charms.

Dr. Lorenz arrived shortly after I did. His slave-wife julie, her short blond hair an expensive explosion of spikes and tangles in the latest Hollywood style, was clad in an amazing outfit of black suede. It consisted of bands of horizontal suede strips that managed to cover her nipples and nether parts most (but not all) of the time, ending just below her hips, with matching suede sandals, collar and cuffs on wrists and ankles.

Ed Renault was the last to arrive. He had draped a chain mail cloak over slave sweetpee to keep her reasonably legal for the trip from the car to the house. From a certain angle I could catch a glimpse of a succulent girl bit through the mesh of chains, and when she unclasped the cloak and removed it, I could see why Ed had decided to cloak her. she was wrapped in a gorgeous burnt orange sarong, a long strip of silky fabric trimmed in red and gold brocade that began at a loop around her right shoulder and swooped down to cover the right breast, and finished by winding around her hips where it was tied off at a sexy angle over her thighs.. Frequent tossings of her head during the course of the evening allowed her long blond tresses to sweep sensuously across the stiffened nipple of her exposed left breast, drawing attention to it and the lush pillow it topped. Since that meeting in the Iron Collar Club hot tub when anna was in training, sweetpee had learned not only to accept her Master's frequent grazing in new sexual pastures, but to enjoy his use of her as a pass-around slave for his friends. she used every feminine wile to stir up the males at the party without going beyond the limits set by her owner.

Jake, Ed, Jason and I allowed our slaves a glass or two of wine during the happy hour preceding dinner, even letting them join in the conversation, except for oriana who had been given the duty of serving us drinks and appetizers. While this excluded her from most of the verbal intercourse, it did not mean she was ignored. she received a good deal of attention from hands and fingers. Ed in particular found her oval cutout irresistible and invariably held her up for a minute or two while, with his free hand, he tested the firmness and hard little points of the warm melons half hidden from sight under the fabric. anna (who thought I wasn't watching) managed to sneak a third cocktail and was fully relaxed before we moved into the dining room for dinner.

oriana and pang, being the lowest in the pecking order, served. The other slaves sat on the floor next to their owners where they ate from plates in their laps. oriana and pang were not allowed to eat until everyone else had been served dessert. Then they got down on all fours to eat leftovers and scraps from our plates scraped into bowls. No utensils, of course. They were allowed napkins, however, so they could wipe the food from their faces when someone called for service.

Dessert was followed by an excellent brandy. I asked that anna be given one as well, but not pang. anna was gracious enough not to gloat as pang handed it to her, but I could see she was glowing with the satisfaction of this public affirmation of her favored status in my household.

Jason noticed what I had done and followed suit, ordering his under-slave oriana to bring brandy to his head slave mya. mya, who was equally comfortable as a Mistress or submissive, accepted the drink with equanimity, and oriana, whose pretty neck was always under mya's foot, was equally unfazed by the demonstration of the lowliness in which she reveled.

All through dinner Ed became more and more frisky, in direct proportion to the glasses of wine he consumed, feeling up the waitresses at every opportunity. oriana was a bit put off by the first intrusion of his hand in her crotch, but a "stay put" gesture from her Master was sufficient command to let her know this was to be her role: a plaything for the guests. Inevitably pang was treated to the same crude behavior. The first time she felt his hand on her thigh she shrank away, darting a panicky look at me. I knew she would not understand the subtle signal Jason had sent oriana, so I ordered anna to go to the girl and convey the same message more directly. Instantly anna hopped up from the place on the floor beside me and went over to pang, guiding her wary charge back to Ed's side. she explained to him that pang was in training and needed to learn how to behave properly as a slave, then held pang in place by her shoulders as Ed ran a hand up and down her inner thigh, lingering at the juncture of her legs to tickle the entrance to her still locked womanhood. I watched pang's expression closely. Once she realized that she was expected to allow this stranger to fondle her intimately, she relaxed and stood quietly, even spreading her legs a little to facilitate the play of his fingers under her garment.

"Yo, Ed! Be careful with those fingers," I said. "Don't bust her cherry. I'm saving it for a special occasion soon, when she's trained well enough."

"A special occasion!" Jake laughed. "Trained! What the hell does that mean? Like when she's finally horny enough to throw herself on your fucking tool?"

"Hey, give him a break," Jason chimed in. "Maybe he's working the Russian mafia angle, looking to sell her for a fat return on his investment."

"More likely he just wants her all for himself, selfish bastard," Ed opined, caressing the back of pang's knee. "Sweet little piece like this only gets her cherry popped once and ole Dan wants to do the poppin'. Right Danny boy? That's if she really is still a virgin. Kind of hard to believe, her being such a beauty."

"Oh, she's a virgin, all right," I said. "I inspect her every day to make sure she doesn't do herself and spoil my plans. She will lose her virginity in a very public way, but only when she asks for it, which will be soon. Mine will be the rod that tears that useless yet symbolic piece of tissue asunder, but all of you will be there to share in her introduction to womanhood."

"You mean we'll finally get to fuck her?" Jason said, knocking back the last of his brandy.

"Absolutely. she and anna and others. It will be an orgy to remember. But until then, that particular hole is off limits, gentlemen."

"Christ!" sputtered Ed. "How can you stand it, having that sweet young poon just a few feet away every night and never once slipping your meat into it?"

"Enormous self control," I answered, "plus the availability of an equally delectable piece of ass who's so hot for me she can barely restrain herself like the good slut she is. In fact, I frequently have to punish her because she just can't keep her hands off my equipment."

This bit of bullshit prompted a round of laughter from the men, and an adoring smile of appreciation from anna.

Jason suddenly stood up. "I've been forced to stare at sweetpee's bare tit all evening and now I'm horny as hell. It's time we repaired to the playpen and used these slaves for some fun and games."

That brought a swift round of agreement from the Masters and smiles from their slaves and we all moved to Jason's enormous Great Room to begin the action. Once again, in accordance with our natural male instincts, we had decided on games of competition among the Masters, using our combined stable of lovely slaves as props. Dr. Lorenz, in an inordinately magnanimous mood — enhanced, no doubt, by the fine wines he had provided for the occasion — insisted that at least one of the games be designed to assure our females a fair share of enjoyment in the pleasuring to come. Purist slave masters will find this concept laughable, but I backed him on it because I wanted this evening's activities to reinforce pang's growing appreciation of life as a sex slave. I also felt anna should be rewarded for her good behavior in accepting pang's presence in my household and my bed. Not that she had a choice, but she knew full well that she could have made pang's life miserable when I was away at work, yet she did not. She behaved graciously and taught pang well, both in her studies of English and in the proper deportment of a slave. Once again I reminded the Masters, however, that although I wanted pang involved in the games, we must take care not to undo her virginity.

For the first event we decided to divide the men into two teams: Jason and Ed against Jake and me. It would be a stopwatch event, racing against the clock, using five of the females as a race course. Here's how it went.

We stripped all the slaves, blindfolded all but pang and laid the five blindfolded girls side by side on the carpet about a foot apart with their feet pulled back so their legs were bent at a 45-degree angle. Each girl's ankles and knees were tied to the ankles and knees of the girls beside her. The outside females had their outside legs tied to a heavy chair. Jason came up with six thick pillows which we stuffed under their rumps to elevate their pussies, now wide open and ready for use. What an inspiring sight, those five freshly shaved, inviting cunts, some already growing moist in anticipation.

We gave pang a saucer containing a strawberry, a dried apricot, a cherry, a purple grape and a date. I demonstrated on the nearest cunt what she was to do with them. She giggled and went right to work. Using only her mouth and tongue, she inserted one of the pieces of fruit in each of the five waiting receptacles. Now all five pussies were showing signs of excitement.

The object of the race was for each contestant to move down the row of stuffed cunts and remove the pieces of fruit, using only his mouth and tongue. In addition, he had to keep all five pieces in his mouth and spit them out into pang's saucer at the end of the line. Each contestant began his race with the click of a stopwatch; it ended with another click when he dropped the five pieces of collected fruit into the saucer. As we expected, the women found the game particularly enjoyable and every one of the five had at least one orgasm before it was over. I won the race easily, but I confess, I had been practicing my technique with anna who really loves the game and often requests it now at our parties and at the Iron Collar Club. I usually acquiesce because I love to savor the exquisite contrast of fruit flavors layered with the distinctive taste of each individual pussy. And she loves the sensation of warm tongues inserting the fruit and more tongues fishing it out again.

The game that most appealed to the men also required the five females to be lined up on their backs and spread open. But this time it was on Jason's king sized bed in his opulent master bedroom. Three of the slaves were laid out cross-wise on one side of the bed and two on the other, all with their butts on the edge of the mattress and their wrists tied together under their backs. The two rows were interlaced at the shoulders and we tied each girl to her neighbor by the elbows to keep them from moving. It was a four-poster bed with a frame for a canopy overhead. We tied each girl's ankle to her neighbor's and strung them up to the frame so their legs were splayed open vertically and their sex readily available. Another lovely sight!

This game was also against the clock. The object was to circumnavigate the bed, fucking all five slaves with ten strokes without cumming, then reverse direction. On the return trip around it became a race for who could cum the fastest — spewing the proof of our climax on the belly of whatever girl we were fucking at the time. Also, on that return trip there was no limitation on strokes per girl. For this game, pang was the timekeeper. To keep ourselves honest, we all chanted every stroke aloud and made sure pang started the stopwatch at the tenth stroke in the fifth girl and stopped it when the first spurt of cum landed on a slave's tummy. And again, to even up the pleasure for the females, two of us moved clockwise from oriana to anna to julie to mya to sweetpee, and the other two started with sweetpee and circled counterclockwise to oriana. We drew cards from a deck to decide who went which way: the two highest (Ed and me) went clockwise and the two lowest (Jake and Jason) went the opposite direction.

Ed was the first to compete and the quickest to lose. He gave oriana the requisite ten strokes but was so over stimulated by the evening's events that he only managed five strokes in anna before he pulled out and blew his spunk all over her belly.

Jake went next starting at sweetpee and was able to enjoy all five sluts, even sucking on pang's tits while fucking sweetpee, before reversing directions. Fifteen seconds later he ejaculated a prodigious load on mya's belly.

My turn began at oriana's end (so to speak) and with every new wet receptacle I had to concentrate on not letting myself go. By the time I reached sweetpee at the end of my sweet ordeal, I was barely contained. Since the rules prohibited cumming on her, I quickly masturbated my way back to julie and climaxed on the golden flesh of her abdomen. Seven seconds. Not bad.

But Jason bested me. As he screwed his way through sweetpee, mya and julie his fatuous grin crumbled into a strained grimace. He somehow fought off his hormones as he fucked anna, then oriana, and at the start of the stopwatch on the tenth stroke was able to dash back between anna's thighs to spurt an arcing shot of cum all the way to her breasts. Five seconds. The clear winner.

We released the females and spent the next hour freely socializing, drinking and resting up for the next sex game. The men were fully dressed but the women remained naked, except for their collars, to keep things in perspective. The collars were all the beautiful special occasion dress collars, except for oriana and pang who wore their leather play collars, plus cuffs on their wrists and ankles, as befit their lower status.

The final game of the evening was designed primarily for the pleasure of the Masters. We stripped from the waist down and sat in a row of chairs from the dining room placed a couple of feet apart. We each selected a slave, not our own, to kneel in front of us. I chose the voluptuous sweetpee; Jake, to my left, decided on oriana; Ed, to his left, wanted the statuesque mya; and Jason, at the other end, chose pang. That left julie and anna. julie was ordered to kneel between sweetpee and oriana; anna between mya and pang.

The duty of the slave facing us was to give head, while julie and anna were to help stimulate the men on both sides of them by massaging their balls, one set in each hand. The object of the competition was to be the first man to reach his second orgasm of the night. Rewards were to be issued in accordance with our finishing position. For the men, that involved bottles of rare champagne, tickets to hot sporting events and certificates worth one future fuck of any slave belonging to any of the other three owners. For the women, the slave giving head to the first place winner would be allowed to get dressed and be excused from the dungeon activities to follow. As to the others, the slave servicing the second place Master would receive five blows with a leather belt. Third place was worth seven strokes with a ratan cane. Fourth place would bring ten lashes with a singletail whip. The girl massaging the first place winner's balls would be exempted from punishment, unless she was also massaging the fourth place loser, in which case her bottom would be warmed by ten blows with a paddle. Otherwise, she would share the fate of the slave next to her who received the heavier penalty.

This time Ed's perennial horniness and overstimulated condition worked to his advantage. He went rigid and spouted cum all over mya's face way before the next fastest gun, Jake. I finished third and Jason enjoyed a blissful last place finish. I could see that anna was already feeling the complex anxiety of fear and excitement in anticipation of the ten lashes she was due. I'm not sure pang understood that she was in for the same treatment, but once we were all in Jason's dungeon I asked that she be strung up and whipped alongside anna, stroke for stroke, so she could learn from anna's example how to deal with playful punishment. anna carefully refrained from screaming or even crying out during the whipping, ritually counting each stroke, thanking Ed (who had drawn the right to whip her) for each lash and asking for the next. ("One! Thank you, Sir. Please give me another." A crack of the whip and a groan. "Two! Thank you, Sir. Please give me another.") The young under-sub dutifully copied her mistress's demonstration, cringing and gasping through clenched teeth with every stroke, then repeating anna's words, thanking her torturer (Jason) and asking for another lash. On it went to the count of ten. she never wavered. her charmingly tortured English and her big grin when it was over were most endearing. Of course I had asked Jason to go easy on her. Still, even a mild bite from the singletail is a trying experience.

On the way home that night I happened to glance in the mirror and caught sight of pang in the back seat, eyes closed, rubbing her clit, shivering with the sensation it produced. Since I had not given her permission, that behavior would be worth a bit of punishment the next day, but it would be light punishment because it gave me a valuable signal. The evening's events, both the pleasure and the pain, had definitely turned her on. She was a born submissive. It was time to make her commit to a lifetime of it. It was also time to release her from the bonds of her virginity.

 

anna's journal, August 28

Last night was the first collaring i've been to since my own. This time i was the one who organized the whole thing. No, not "organized." Forgive me, Master! It was You who made the decisions; i merely saw to it that Your wishes were carried out. (Oh how i wish i could tear out this page and start over! Now i will have to confess that stupid slip and be punished for it!)

Anyway, Master decided to invite seven of His bdsm friends and their slaves: Master Thomas Atkins and slave kristina. Master Peter Arnson and slave pixie. Master Jason Moore and his two slaves, orianna and mya. Master Jake Lorenz and slave julie. Master Eric Decker and slave tori. Master Blane Stankovski and slave jessika. And Master Logan Kapler and slave tatyana. As a good slave, i attended to the many details of sending the invitations and arranging for the catering. i pray Master will take this into consideration when He decides on my punishment for the above impertinence.

The Masters were asked to dress their slaves in white sheers. At the dinner preceding pang's collaring, we slaves sat cross-legged on the floor beside our Masters. we were permitted to eat from real dinnerware and tableware, however, holding them in our laps.

For the collaring ceremony, Master had found a Cambodian interpreter to translate the contract into her own language as she read it to the assembled guests. Master read his portion of the contract, pausing for the interpretation in Cambodian and a nod from pang to indicate that she understood it, phrase by phrase. The contract to which she agreed was for a ten year period of slavery, the same time period she was originally purchased for by Peter.

Forgive me, Master, but i confess that i was comforted by the fact that pang's contract was not for life, like mine. Does that mean that Master loves me more than pang? The contract also gives Master the right to sell pang, as He can me. Maybe He will tire of her and decide to get His money back. she's cute and docile, but i work harder at pleasing Master.

For pang's deflowering ceremony, which followed her collaring, we set up a bed with a spoked headboard. The mattress was covered with down-filled pillows and there was no foot board. pang's wrists were cuffed to the headboard spokes using the leather cuffs that she liked best. she was still draped in the sheer white diaphanous sheer. All the Masters and their slaves gathered around the bed in a circle, the slaves having stripped to the buff. When all was ready — the room lighted only by an array of candles and pang duly made helpless on the bed — Master emerged from his bedroom dressed only in his burgundy smoking jacket. With a ceremonial flourish He whipped away the gauzy sheer covering pang and revealed her lithe young body, her smooth dark skin creating an exotic contrast to the white sheet under her in the flickering light of the candles. Master ordered me to kneel at the foot of the bed and take Him into my mouth where I coaxed Him to full erection. Then he had me lick pang's labia and lubricate her with plenty of saliva before He gently inserted himself and began a series of easy thrusts deeper and deeper into her until she let out a yelp of pain as He broke through her hymen, putting her virginity behind her forever. He withdrew and we watched the blood drip out of her newly available pussy into a spreading stain on the sheet. Master then ordered me to lick her clean, dipping my tongue deeply into her to clear out the blood and lubricate her anew for his second entry. He reentered her, this time with a tempo intended to excite her to orgasm, matching his thrusts to her mounting response until they both came together.

i admit that my pleasure at watching them achieve ecstacy together was tinged with jealousy, as it always is when i watch Master having sex with another woman. i know it's not my place to feel that way but i cannot help my feelings. i love Him and am always afraid He'll tire of me and sell me. Yet that very fear, the knowledge that He can dispose of me at will, the insecurity of it, is exciting to me. It's part of why i agreed to be His property. So i have no right or reason to complain.

After Master had spent Himself and withdrawn again from pang, He slipped the bloodied sheet from under her and draped it over the headboard in a parody of the ancient tradition to display the proof of her former virginity. He invited all the Masters who wished to partake of her body to do so as part of the ritual to affirm that she is now His property and He has the right to offer her to whomever He pleases, and she must comply. "Gentlemen," He announced, "I have enjoyed the first fruits of this slave's lovely body and find her to be a worthy possession. It now pleases me to offer this delectable creature to those of you who would like to explore her newly exposed pleasure cove. The only restriction is that she must be allowed a two minute rest between visitations to prevent damage to those tender new parts."

It was my duty to maintain the proper intervals between fuckings and lubricate both pang and each of the Masters who used her, then clean up both afterwards with my mouth and tongue. On this special occasion Master allowed me to hydrate myself with wine so that by the time all seven Masters had navigated pang's sweet young channel I was floating on a major buzz. It was clear that pang, too, was enjoying her new role as her Master's whore. Every new penis brought her to a new climax.

While each of the men availed themselves of pang and me, the rest, along with their slaves, were socializing and scarfing down the pastries and drinks. But about an hour later, after all seven men had taken advantage of my Master's offer, it was time for the rest of the slaves to contribute to the evening's entertainment. Master's dungeon provided plenty of equipment to facilitate play.

Master placed pang and i back to back with our legs spread and her ankles shackled to mine. He stretched out our arms to each side and strapped them to a horizontal 2x4 between the backs of our shoulders, then strapped our necks together. For good measure He tied us together by our hair as well. Next He attached clamps to our nipples, the kind with round metal teeth that bite harder when they are pulled. He ran cords through pulleys from the clamps on pang's nipples to mine and tied them taut so that if either of us moved or began to slump from exhaustion it would pull painfully on both our tits. At least, i thought, our backsides are inaccessible to whips and canes. But, as it turned out, that still left plenty of flesh available for torture. Master produced two large boxes filled with plastic clothes pins which he had ordered pang and me to string together the week before. Now the boxes were placed at our feet and the guests were invited to attach some to our bodies every time they passed by or felt moved to do so. The games in the dungeon lasted about an hour and by the end of that time pang and i were bristling with more than a hundred clothes pins from our throats to our calves and along both arms, especially the tenderest portions of our skin around the breasts, belly, labia and inner thighs. Having been through this zipper thing before, i knew that although my body was on fire from the many pinching jaws, the pain to come, while short-lived, would be far worse. It's a peculiar feeling of yearning for release while dreading it at the same time. pang, on the other hand, didn't know what was coming. she had never been given the zipper treatment. In fact, when Master had used clothes pins or nipple clamps on her, He almost always released them slowly so as to minimize the pain. she was in for a terrible surprise and i couldn't even warn her because both of us had been gagged with thick wads of cloth. The good thing about it was that because of all the clothes pins there was no place left for the Masters to cane or whip us. The other girls got that treatment.

mya, oriana, tori and jessika were somewhere behind me in the dungeon so i couldn't see what was happening to them, although i could hear the smack of whatever instruments were being used on them and the screams and groans they elicited. julie, tatyana, kristina and pixie were in clear view, however, and i'm so thankful to Master that He spared us what they had to endure.

tatyana was kneeling in a tub, her wrists lashed to its handles, her hair tied with a cord to a metal hook planted in her ass so that her back was arched and her head pulled back face up. A spider gag had been strapped into her mouth, her squirming tongue visible through the big metal O. The word "TOILET" had been painted across her breasts and one by one the Masters had relieved themselves on her face and into her mouth. If they were disappointed with the amount of their piss she had swallowed, they expressed their displeasure by caning her breasts until she whimpered and cried.

julie had been hung upside down by her ankles, her legs spread wide, her forearms bound tightly together behind her back. she, too, had an O-ring gag in her mouth, but it had been put to a different use. The Men were stuffing either various dildos into it or their own engorged members. Her ass, pussy, thighs and breasts were bright red and covered with frightful welts as each Master took a turn caning or whipping her. She was gagging and obviously having trouble breathing what with the combination of her screams, intrusions into her mouth and her own tears and snot.

kristina was mounted on a four-by-four turned so that one edge was up and biting into her crotch. her wrists were bound to her ankles which were tethered to floor rings. A rope around her neck kept her from toppling off her painful perch. Even without the Men pinching her nipples, or flogging her, which They did often, she was in obvious distress.

pixie also had her wrists bound to her ankles, but she had been suspended from the ceiling like a piñata.. her back was striped with the blows of a singletail whip and her exposed bottom and thighs exhibited a painful array of purple wales from a cane. i was feeling really sorry for all of them until Master invited Master Jason Moore to pull the zipper on me. He pulled the cord in a smooth hand-over-hand motion that ignited a molten river of pain and a scream i couldn't stop until the last plastic jaw had been torn from my flesh. As I hyperventilated my way back from the ordeal, i could hear pang screaming through her own "zipper" agony.

But our contribution to the evening's entertainment was not over yet. i looked up to see Master approaching with a final torture. He inserted a copper stim in my vagina and secured it painfully in place with a large spring clamp on my labia. Presumably He did the same with pang. Wires ran from the stims to an electrical control panel. Next he sprayed us with water to increase conductivity. Finally he picked up a rod with a round copper tip. It was also wired to the control panel. "Here it comes," He said, and touched it to my right breast. Fire blazed from the point where it touched my breast to the stim in my cunt. i screamed into my gag as the ball point of the wand moved around my breasts and over my body, the trail of fire following it, a constant connection of agony to the delicate tissue of my vagina. Now i, too, was sobbing, the tears streaming down my cheeks, mingling with the strings of drool flowing from my gagged mouth. Behind me, pang was also screaming as she experienced her first dose of torture inside her newly opened love vault. It seemed to go on forever but ended before i passed out.

All eight of us slaves were finally released from our various ordeals, but we did not return to the main part of the house. Instead we were herded into a single cage in one corner that was maybe five or six feet square. we were ordered to cram ourselves into it, a writhing mass of female flesh when the door to the cage was squeezed shut and locked. There we stayed while the Men repaired to the Study to enjoy a game of poker. Remember, most of the women had been treated to the wine and their bladders were by now demanding relief. The Men had pissed on and into poor tatyana, but the slaves had been given no such opportunity. tatyana's doubly distressed bladder was, in fact, the first to give way. she cried and pleaded for forgiveness as her urine cascaded down through the mass of girls. Before the poker game ended, two other girls had been unable to contain themselves. By the time our Masters returned we reeked like a back alley in the Bronx. When tatyana's owner, Master Kapler, learned that she had started the flood, He hauled her feet out through the bars of the cage and caned her soles to a mass of purple welts as she sobbed into tori's breasts. When He was satisfied that she had been properly chastised, we were all dragged out of the cage and hosed off in the tiled corner of the dungeon. Finally we were leashed and led away, pang and me to Master's bedroom, the other slaves out to the cars for the trip home, still naked and dripping.

Master allowed both pang and me to sleep with Him in the bed, but it was pang He fucked this morning and allowed to eat with Him at the table, while i served them and ate my own breakfast from the dog bowl on the floor.

Chapter 20

It's been two years now since pang's collaring. Who would have guessed that the situation would have taken the nasty turn that it did. But such is life.

pang turned out to be a most satisfactory slave. Nothing complicated about the girl. she has a low threshold for pain yet endures torture beautifully and without complaint. Even severe punishment. Cries easily, too, and prettily. she's so cute when she's sniffling, trying to hold back her tears. Another strong point in her favor is that she's unfailingly obsequious to me and to all males. There's not a trace of smoldering resentment in this obedience as there is in girls who grow up in this culture where the notion that females and males are equal is pushed as though it were a natural truth. In nature, of course, no such equality exists. The culture from which this girl comes is still close to the natural order where the male dominates completely. she has never experienced or even imagined equality with men. Quite the contrary, she was raised as the property of her father, trained to accept his word as law and to serve him. she was taught that in time he would chose another suitable male for her to mate and serve. This is how she understands life: that the purpose of women is to serve men. It's a condition of de facto slavery which is all she has ever known and which she accepts not only as normal, but desirable. In her mind, I am the male her father chose and she willingly accepts whatever service, discipline, pain and humiliation I see fit to demand of her.

On the other hand, over the same two years anna became a problem. I had expected that her joy in slavery and status as head slave would be enough to overcome her natural resentment of pang's arrival in our household and in my bed, but that did not happen. As time went on, she became increasingly prone to hurt feelings every time I choose pang over her for any purpose — to attend dinner invitations, to play with in the dungeon, to fuck, anything. This shouldn't have bothered me, of course. What the hell should I care if a slave's feelings are hurt? Yet her inner sorrow cast a pall over my own feelings. My love for anna was real, yet I had also come to love pang, who, unlike anna, was perfectly content to share me with her sister slave. anna needed the discipline of a strong Master to be happy but had increasing difficulty rejecting that all-too-familiar and irrational human trait: jealousy. she yearned to hoard my love all to herself.

It was a problem I could ignore simply by remaining firm in my role as Master, until that disastrous day when I discovered she had contracted genital herpes. It was my fault entirely. I had loaned her to a friend at the Iron Collar club for a night. He told me he planned to screw her as she hung in a sling in his back yard. What he didn't tell me was that he had also invited a couple of his pals to join him in a gang bang. Unfortunately, one of them was not wearing a condom and infected anna. Much as I loved her and although she was entirely blameless for her new condition, from that point on our relationship was profoundly changed. The first eruption of a sore on her labia had effectively put an end to any coitus between us. She was allowed to give me hand and blow jobs, but I simply could not bring myself to insert my cock or tongue into that sweet sheath where I had spent so many joyful hours. I could not even keep an erection at the thought of it. Naturally, she was crushed at my rejection of her sexual needs, but, try as I might, I could not get past my revulsion of her infection. I absolutely could not take the chance of contracting herpes myself. It would mean I would forever be condemned to wearing condoms to avoid passing it on to my other slaves and those of my friends, and I can't stand condoms!

At about the same time, Logan made me an offer I couldn't refuse. He'd been farting around on the international dating web sites again and found a girl in Russia he just couldn't resist. He actually went over to Belgorod, outside Moscow, to meet her and talked her into coming back with him to be his slave. To help finance this endeavor he decided to sell tatyana, the girl he had brought over from Ukraine a few years earlier after seducing her into signing a slavery contract. He had treated tatyana harshly ever since she arrived and she was overjoyed to have a new, more reasonable Master. So overjoyed, in fact, that she agreed to a lifetime contract with me that includes no safe words, stipulations or other modifying crap. Logan's asking price was outrageous, but the girl is incredibly beautiful and a sexual live wire. Like anna and pang, she signed the contract in her own blood. she is now my property, utterly submissive, ever willing to pleasure me with her body or absorb punishment, never failing to thank me for it and ask politely for more. I'm not the sadist Logan is, but then he's not as imaginative as I am. tatyana enjoys my kind of orderly and dependable discipline and has not been disappointed with her life in my household.

All my slaves have acknowledged in their contracts that I have the discretion of selling them if I choose. I did consider selling anna when it became obvious she was unhappy in her new sexless role. And I could have fetched a good price for her. She was, after all, still young, supremely beautiful and well trained. My friends knew of her condition damaged goods so she was of little value locally, but there is always a lucrative demand for beautiful young white women in the East European, African and Asian slave markets. Venereal disease is not an issue for bordello owners catering to blue-collar workers looking for a cheap fuck. However, I simply could not bring myself to do that to anna. Bad enough that she was now a pariah in my bed.

In an attempt to compensate, I increased my attentions and affections in other ways. I let her service me with her mouth nearly every day and used the fucking machine on her frequently during our dungeon sessions, making sure she enjoyed multiple orgasms. I let my friends fuck her (protected by condoms) whenever they wished and made sure she was well stimulated in the process. I emphasized her total charge of the household and as mistress over pang and tatyana with permission to treat them as she wished, providing she did not put them at risk of contracting her herpes. None of this eased her internal suffering, however. she never complained aloud, but her journal was filled with long passages of anguish at her fall from sexual grace. her writing wept with self-loathing at her diseased body.

Finally the day came when she could tolerate the situation no longer. she handled it in a way that was typically and charmingly anna.

"Are you planning on selling this slave?" she asked one night during a session of open conversation hour in the living room. (I had trained all my slaves at this point to refer to themselves only in the third person — as "this slave" — to emphasize their status as property rather than free beings.)

"No. Why? Would you like me to?"

"No, no! Please, Master. This slave wants to serve no one but you. But she knows you think of her as unclean."

"You are unclean, anna," I responded softly, "but you're not responsible for that. you were simply obeying orders, as you always do. And I commend you for that."

"This slave loves her Master but is terribly unhappy that he will no longer make love to her, even with a condom. This slave misses his body inside hers and will do anything her Master requires to win him back. No matter how painful."

"I know you would. I love you for that, anna, and I always will. But I cannot risk the possibility of catching the disease you now carry."

"Please forgive this slave for her impertinence, Master, but may she point out that there are times when she is free of any lesions and it would be safe for you to enter her? And there are condoms. Others have used this slave safely, with your permission, while wearing condoms."

"Yes, I know there are times when you are not infectious, but there are also times when you are infectious and don't realize it. As to condoms, I refuse to wear one. I don't need to. I have pang's and tatyana's cunts at my disposal whenever I feel the desire for pussy. I choose not to risk venturing into yours. I'm sorry, anna, but that's the way it is. I love you. You are my most valuable and prized possession, but I simply cannot make love to you in that way any more."

"Then, Master, with your permission this slave has one last favor to ask of you."

she waited, eyes down, unwilling to proceed without specific approval.

"Very well, anna. What is it? you may tell me."

"This slave wishes her life to end."

"What?"

"This slave begs of you, dear Master, to allow her to offer you one last gift. This slave offers you her life."

"What are you talking about? I already own your life."

"This slave deeply appreciates being your property and begs that you prove the love that you just expressed by allowing her to honor you with the sacrifice of her life."

"You're asking me to let you commit suicide?"

"No, Master. This slave is begging her Master to use his property for his own pleasure in such a way that her life ends as a final measure of her devotion to him."

"You want me to snuff you?"

anna slid off the chair in which she had been sitting and crawled over to me on her hands and knees. Removing my shoes and socks, she proceeded to lavish my feet with kisses.

"Dearest Master," she said between kisses, "this slave begs and pleads with you to do her that honor. she begs that you make it as entertaining as you wish so that you will remember the occasion with pleasure. This slave asks that you spare her no horror or torment that it may please you to impose, only that you are there with her when you bring her existence to an end."

"You really wish to die?"

"Please, please, please, Master! This slave begs you with all her heart. This slave cannot bear the thought to continuing to live this way, never again feeling her beloved Master within her, loving her with his manhood, filling her with his seed. Please allow her this one last glorious way to show her love for him! Please!"

"You want me to kill you."

"Oh yes, Master! In whatever way you wish!"

By now she had unzipped me and was licking and kissing the very member to which she had just referred.

"No matter how terrible? No matter how unbearable and excruciating?"

"In any way that pleases you, Master. Any way at all!"

"What if I were to crucify you? Whip you to a bloody pulp, nail you up on a cross and let you die slowly in tremendous agony?"

"This slave will thank you for letting her suffer and will die happily, as long as it pleases you."

"What if I decide to burn you at the stake? Or boil you alive in a pot?"

"Anything you may do to this slave that would amuse you as she dies will honor her. Even if you chose to cook her alive and eat her. Even if you choose to stake her to the ground, smear her with her own blood, stuff her vagina with honey and leave her for wild animals and insects to devour. Whatever way pleases you, dear Master, is the way this slave wishes to die."

It was an astonishing request. My sweet anna had certainly become a problem, but snuffing her was not a solution I had ever considered. And I certainly had not expected that her inner anguish was so great that she would make so extreme an offer. But as my gorge rose in response to the fevered activity of her mouth and tongue, I blurted out the only answer that would speak to both our problems.

"Very well, anna. I will grant your request."

God help me!

Chapter 21

I gave anna a full week to reconsider her request. During that time I did my best, within the bounds of propriety as her owner, to shift her focus to the positive aspects of her life as my slave, even going so far as to invite her back to my bed every night. Admittedly, that tactic may have backfired because I still could not bring myself to enter her lovely but infected grotto. Privately I gave orders to pang and tatyana to talk her out of her death wish, if they could. But as their mistress and overseer, anna refused to let them speak of the matter.

Every morning I read anna's journal entry for the previous day to learn what I could about her emotional state, but she had closed off that window to her thoughts. The entries merely spoke of mundane household matters — chores and schedules, to-do lists and menus — as though it was of no consequence that her life was rapidly drawing to an end.

It was not until the evening before the day of our final meeting that she made reference to the only subject matter that counted. This is what she wrote.

Master Daniel has promised He will not sell this unworthy slave to another Master or to a brothel, although it is His right to do so. He has also agreed in His loving mercy to put this miserable slave and her diseased body to an end, for which she is deeply grateful. May He do so soon and in a way which allows this slave one last opportunity to bring Him pleasure no what it costs her in pain and suffering.

"You understand, I hope, that I really don't want to snuff you," I said when we had all assembled in the living room that last night.

"Yes, Master. This slave is happy beyond words that you have graciously agreed to do so."

All three slaves were naked. anna knelt on the floor facing me while pang and tatyana sat side by side on the couch, watching intently, not saying a word, their eyes round with a mixture of fear and excitement. I had made it clear that if they failed to dissuade anna from this path, they would be required to take part in what followed. Involving them in anna's death would ensure their cooperation should the authorities ever be drawn in. We would all be equally culpable under the law. anna's expression was peaceful.

"Do you understand also that I grieve at the prospect of losing you?" I asked.

she closed her eyes and spoke softly. "Yes, Master. This slave apologizes for any and all discomfort she has caused you."

"And that out of anger for your determination to deprive me of your body — a body which belongs to me , not you — I might well decide to punish you by making your death cruel and terrible?"

"Yes, Master. This slave begs only that you dispense with her in whatever way pleases you most."

"If this is to be done, it will be done now. Tonight. Do you realize that?"

"Yes, Master."

"This is your last chance to remain alive and in my service, anna. I love you and want to keep you here as my loving slave. But unless you ask to withdraw your request to die, you will be snuffed within the hour."

Tears began leaking from the corners of her eyes, but there was no hesitation. "This slave appreciates her Master's love and the years of having lived under His loving discipline and rule. she loves him deeply. She also understands that the end of her life is at hand and is thankful for his kindness in bringing it about. It is her sincere wish that she be put to death as quickly as her Master wishes and in any manner he chooses."

"Very well," I said, defeated. "It shall be done. As your owner and Master I hereby decree that you be put to death this very night, as soon as the necessary equipment can be set up."

I paused to let the words sink in. The two slaves on the couch looked stricken, pang holding tatyana's hand for whatever comfort that might bring. But neither risked speaking out.

anna's hands trembled a little, but she managed a calm, "Thank you, Master."

"In acceding to your request, I am allowing you to deprive me of property that I love and cherish. For such insolent selfishness on your part it would behoove me, as a stern and just Master, to take you to the dungeon, stretch you out on the rack until all your joints have been torn loose and crush your bones one by one until, screaming in agony, you beg to be taken out, tied to a stake, drenched in kerosine and burned alive."

anna shuddered. "Yes, Master, if that is your will."

"Or perhaps it would be a more appropriate example to my other two slaves to impale you on a stake through your cunt and have them flog you with a cat tipped with metal shards until all your skin is torn off, then train high-intensity UV lights on your exposed meat and so they can watch you slowly bake to death."

"Yes, Master," she murmured, weeping openly now, terrorized at the possibilities she had wrought. Still, she gathered herself and added, "This slave asks for no mercy, only that you be pleased with how she dies."

I sighed. "But I won't do any of those things. You have been too loving, devoted and obedient a slave to be snuffed as though you were otherwise. Even now, having brought about your own sentence of death, you subordinate your natural fear to your duty to please your Master. Here, then, is how it will be done."

I spent the next fifteen minutes describing in detail exactly how the sentence would be carried out, including everyone's role. When I was finished, anna smiled up at me and asked permission to give me a farewell hug and kiss. I granted her request.

When all the preparations had been completed, a process that took less than half and hour, I led the solemn procession to the dungeon. anna, the condemned, walked behind me, followed by pang (who would succeed her as head slave). Bringing up the rear and locking the dungeon door behind us, was a nervous tatyana. anna was now the only one completely naked, not even wearing her collar and cuffs. I was dressed in my Dungeon Master's black leather outfit with the open crotch with pang and tatyana in long black gowns. anna was not restrained in any way. I had made it plain that since she had initiated her death sentence voluntarily, she must attend to its execution voluntarily.

We stopped and let anna take in the scene and its fearful implications. If it filled her with dread, she did not show it. A noose dangled from a ceiling pulley and a low footstool waited directly beneath it. The elaborate hangman's knot that pang had diligently fashioned was strictly for show; a slip knot would have worked just as well for what we were about to do. But it was an effective touch and I'm sure anna appreciated it.

pang placed a cushion on the floor in front of me and anna knelt on it. she took my manhood into her mouth and with loving licking and kissing brought it wetly to life. When satisfied with its solidity, she accepted a condom from tatyana and rolled it on me with her mouth. Then she stood up, climbed up on the footstool and slipped the noose over her head, extracting her long blond hair from under it. tatyana, at the other end of the rope, pulled it taut. pang handed anna a pair of handcuffs. anna quickly snapped one cuff on her left wrist then, with her hands behind her back, snapped the other on her right wrist.

"This slave loves you, Master," she said and kicked the stool out from under her feet. They were her last words. The noose cinched firmly around her neck as her body dropped slightly, leaving her feet dancing in air an inch off the dungeon floor.

I quickly righted the stool just in front of her and climbed up on it. This aligned my penis perfectly with her cunt and for the last time I entered her. she wrapped her legs around my waist and I put my hands under her buttocks, lifting her a little to give her some relief from the deadly clutch of the noose as we rode each other to a wild mutual orgasm. Without losing a stroke, I leaned over and suckled her breasts alternately. The noises she emitted were an incredibly erotic mix of choking gurgles and strangled cries as she struggled for breath while writhing in jolting ecstacy. When my own explosion had come and gone and my ramrod had withered to a useless sponge, I reluctantly let her go, withdrew and stepped down off the stool. I pushed it aside where her desperately searching feet could not find it. she continued to thrash and struggle at the end of the rope for at least fifteen minutes, the noose ever tightening as her body twisted and bucked in its involuntary efforts to find a way to breathe. Gradually her mid-air dance quieted to spasmodic squirming, then to small tremors. Finally she hung limply, her torments ended.

Later that night, having borrowed Jake's yacht Titipoo , we gave anna a respectful burial at sea. The next day I mailed off a letter she had hand-written to her parents explaining that she was going to Southeast Asia for a vacation trip. She didn't say specifically where. A suitcase filled with the clothing and other items she would have taken for such a trip were sent to the bottom of the Atlantic along with her lovely body.

Ah sweet anna, how I miss her now! Not that I don't get plenty of sex from pang and tatyana, not to mention the many opportunities my friends give me to fuck and play with their slaves. But there was so much more to anna and in our relationship than I will ever find in any other slave. Or any other woman, for that matter. I've spent endless hours second guessing myself, rethinking how I could have handled her suicidal despair. But it always comes back to the same impasse. If only she had been able to accept the fact that I could no longer use her for vaginal intercourse and been satisfied with my utilization of her remaining uninfected orifices. If only she could have been content as my most cherished possession, mistress over all my other female properties, beloved and treasured for her beauty, perfect obedience and willing submission. But none of that was enough. she had known the full force of my love and lust for her, and she could not live with less. I broke her heart, and although my mind tells me I was entirely within my rights as her owner to make the decisions I did, my own heart is broken as well.

I enjoy pang and tatyana, and I will probably acquire other beautiful slaves in the years to come, but there will never be another like anna. Not even close.