Betting it all

By ProfPotts

  ‘Just fold already, Claire – you’ve nothing left to bet anyway.’ Kyle grinned across the kitchen table (currently pressed into service as a card table for the gang’s poker night) at her nakedness, his dark eyes glittering as he obviously enjoyed watching her squirm. It had all started innocently enough; the six of them having a few drinks and enjoying each other’s company as they played cards, but as inhibitions dropped, the stakes had risen. Soon clothes had joined the not insubstantial pile of cash and hastily scribbled IOUs in the pot, and none of them remained fully clothed.

Kyle – ever the winner – was doing best, as usual: managing to look cool and calm as he lounged merely shirtless, happily showing off his twenty-something chiselled abs and pecks, a gleam in his dark eyes, and a crooked smile on his sculpted features (Claire guessed literally sculpted – that dimple in his strong chin, the perfect nose, and the sharp cheekbones were just a little too precise to not be the work of some high-priced surgeon’s craft). Donny had quit when he’d stripped down to his boxers: Claire couldn’t help but allow herself a quick appreciative glance over the Asian-American’s smoothly muscled gymnast’s figure as he bent over to get another beer from the fridge. Claire quite fancied Donny, with his calm friendly demeanour, easy smile, and pop-idol good looks; but it was Kyle who seemed interested in her, and the guys appeared to have some stupid ‘guy code’ which meant Donny wasn’t about to make any moves on her after his friend had ‘staked a claim’. The third guy, ‘Big’ Shaun, was happily naked: posing brazenly with fists on hips and legs shoulder-width apart as he ogled Claire and her two almost-as-naked roommates: Jasmine and Sarah. Shaun was a big guy, with a linebacker’s physique and a rather brutish-looking face which appealed to some girls, Sarah included, all under a messy shock of blond hair. Claire had barely managed to restrain a laugh when Shaun stripped naked: flaccid, he certainly didn’t seem that big to Claire! Oh, it had girth alright, but looked to be a rather stubby little cock, not that Shaun seemed to care – or Sarah, for that matter, who’d whispered (in reply to Claire’s giggled observations) that it was more than sufficient once it had ‘risen to the occasion’ (although Claire doubted Sarah’s claim that she couldn’t close her fist around Shaun’s member when it was erect – sure Sarah had small hands, but that had to be an exaggeration).

Unlike Claire, both Sarah and Jasmine had folded out of the game before they’d lost their panties. Standing huddled together behind Claire’s seat the two hid their nude breasts under folded arms as they exchanged hushed whispers, throwing little flirtatious glances at the guys every few moments. Sarah was rather petite with small, girlish, breasts. Her pale complexion was lightly dusted with freckles whilst her large, green, eyes and short-cropped fiery-red hair gave her a cute, pixie-like, appearance which belied her passionate (and vocal, Claire knew thanks to several sleepless nights when Sarah had brought boyfriends back to their place) nature. In contrast, Jasmine was a long-legged African-American with generous, yet firm, curves (which Claire was quite envious of), luscious mahogany skin, and dark hair down to her slender waist. Soft-spoken, people usually pegged Jasmine as shy, but Claire had come to appreciate that her friend was nothing of the sort, instead possessing a quiet confidence and inherent grace.

To her shame, Claire had let her competitive streak take over, and now she knew she was in trouble. One hand employed trying to cover her breasts (which were full, although not as impressive as Jasmine’s) she stared at the cards held tightly in the other: she had a killer hand, she knew she’d win if she got to play it, but Kyle was right – she’d let the betting get out of hand and, as the others all folded, had allowed herself to bet the entire contents of her bank account, everything her parents had left her when they’d tragically passed away the previous year. She couldn’t fold now – she really needed that money for tuition fees, books… not to mention rent, food, and all the other essentials of student life. Kyle was such an ass: not only was he at the top of his law classes, just like the rest of his obscenely rich family had been before him, he owned the off-campus house they were hanging at, fancy cars… pretty much anything money could buy. Now he was going to ruin her by simply pricing her out of the game, taking all her money, and laughing as he did it. Claire wasn’t about to let him get away with that!

‘No,’ she tossed her head, flicking an errant strand of her flowing honey-blonde hair out of her deep blue eyes, ‘I’m going to call.’

‘What with, baby?’ Jasmine laid one finely manicured hand gently on Claire’s shoulder, her soft voice full of sympathy for her roommate’s plight, ‘He’s brought the pot with that last, huge, raise.’

Claire shot a look at Jasmine, then Sarah,

‘Can’t you guys lend..?’ she never got to complete the request, as Sarah shook her head,

‘Sorry, girl,’ she shrugged, arms still folded across her nude chest, ‘as you can see, we’re both tapped out already.’

Claire glanced around the room, but found no hint of rescue in the grinning faces of Kyle’s friends, Donny and Shaun. Cursing under her breath Claire furrowed her brow as she stared once more at the cards in her hand: if only she could call his raise, she knew she’d have him!

‘Okay then,’ she snarled, ‘I’ll put my car into the pot.’

Kyle laughed,

‘That old banger? That’s not worth a fraction of what I just bet. Hell, I’d probably have to pay for it to be junked! Come on Claire, get real – the best man won.’

‘Fuck you, Kyle!’ Claire yelled in response, her anger getting the better of her. Donny, leaning back against the kitchen counter as he popped the cap off his beer and took a slip, glanced at Shaun and raised his eyebrows with one of those ‘wow – we’d better stay out of it until she cools down’ expressions. Kyle just grinned even wider,

‘You know what they say, babe,’ he quipped smoothly, ‘anytime, anyplace.’

‘Okay then,’ Claire managed to get her anger under control – she hated that the bastard was so obviously enjoying her frustration, ‘what do you want?’

Kyle shrugged,

‘Sorry, kid: even if you put everything you own into the pot you couldn’t match my raise. That’s why I made it…’

Claire fumed. She knew he was right – it was a casual pittance for him, but way more money than she could afford to lose. But the cards she held, they were a damned near perfect hand – it wasn’t fair that he’d get to win just because he was rich. Taking a few deep breathes to calm herself (sparking a lecherous leer from Shaun as he took in the spectacle of her heaving bosom barely restrained by one arm), Claire tried one last desperate gambit with the one thing she knew her opponent wanted,

‘Alright,’ she fixed Kyle with a serious stare as she spoke, ‘I’ll put me into the pot.’

‘You?’ Sarah sounded puzzled, ‘What’s that meant to mean?’

Claire steeled herself, hating what she was doing, what she was offering, but managed to sound calm,

‘It means if Kyle wins he gets to have me,’ she replied then, after a moments more thought, quickly added, ‘for one night.’

‘Claire,’ Jasmine’s grip tightened on her shoulder, ‘you don’t have to…’

‘No,’ Kyle interrupted, leaning forward across the table, ‘this is just getting interesting.’

‘So?’ Claire asked in a rather imperious tone, ‘Is it a bet?’

Kyle leaned back in his chair again, his gaze tracing the contours of Claire’s nude body in an openly lustful manner which, to her annoyance, made her blush deeply as she wished she had more than one arm and a kitchen table with which to hide her trim figure. Glancing to his friends he shrugged,

‘I think I’d like to discuss this with my associates first.’

It wasn’t quite the response Claire had hoped for, but she couldn’t back down now. With forced calm she nodded,

‘By all means, take your time.’

‘Thanks,’ Kyle replied casually, smoothing one hand through his neatly cut short black hair and winking at her as he stood – leaving his cards face down on the table – and moved across the room to whisper in a huddle with Donny and Shaun.

‘You’re nuts, Claire,’ Jasmine chided quietly. Sarah nodded her agreement. Claire sighed, then - careful to keep them concealed from the guys - showed her two roommates her cards. Sarah let out a low whistle and Jasmine’s dark eyes went saucer-wide.

‘So,’ Claire hissed through gritted teeth,’ just back me up in this, and we can clean that preening prick out, okay?’

Sarah held up her one free palm in mock surrender,

‘Hey, girl: it’s your funeral.’

Jasmine looked less convinced but, with a little silent urging from Claire, nodded her agreement. A few moments later the guys broke their huddle, Kyle retaking his seat as the other two headed out of the kitchen. He allowed Claire to stew for a while before finally speaking,

‘On reflection,’ he explained, his tone a charming friendly one with just a slight hint of menace around the edges (which Claire speculated was bound to serve him well once he qualified as a lawyer), ‘we’ve decided that one night just isn’t worth that much.’ He held up a hand to forestall Claire’s protest, adding, ‘come on, Claire – at that price you’d be the most expensive whore in the world. But,’ he continued quickly in the face of the girls’ outrage, ‘we have come up with a counter-offer: if I win, you and everything you own will belong to me. You’ll be my property, to do with as I wish.’

‘A slave?!’ Jasmine’s exclamation was part shock, and a good deal more anger, ‘You sick bastard! Claire would never consent to that!’

Kyle’s smile never faltered in the face of the black girl’s outrage; he simply shrugged,

‘It’s her choice, of course, but I think she will agree…’ he turned his gaze on Claire, eyes narrowing slightly, ‘she knows she can’t lose: right Claire?’

Claire swallowed hard, tasting bile in the back of her throat as she involuntarily contemplated the fate Kyle planned for her; but in the end she knew he was right – she couldn’t back out now. Besides, she’d win the hand, get the cash, and never have to think about it again.

‘Fine,’ she replied at last, wishing her mouth didn’t suddenly feel so dry, ‘that’s fine. I agree. Now let’s see the cards.’

‘Not so fast,’ Kyle held up his hand again, ‘there are a few… legal details… to go through first.’

‘What?’ Claire blinked, uncomprehending, ‘what “details” are you talking about?’

Kyle parted his arms in a magnanimous gesture,

‘While I’d love to trust your word on this, Claire, my colleagues have advised me to get the agreement down in writing. You know: just in case you try to run out on the bet.’

As if on cue Donny and Shaun returned. Donny placed a couple of legal-looking documents on the table, along with a fountain pen, whilst Shaun, grinning like a maniac, was carrying what appeared to be a dog’s collar, made of thick brown leather and ringed with metal studs, as well as a small padlock which looked like it’d fit the collar’s buckle. As the girls stared, too shocked to comment, Kyle happily explained,

‘This,’ he said, signing one document and passing it across the table to Claire, ‘is a slave contract. It’s pretty standard stuff – you have no rights, you obey my every whim, I get to punish, use, or dispose of you as I see fit, etc. – not really legal, per se, but we’ll all know what it means; besides, I’d like to think you’d try your best to honour any such commitments you agreed to. While this,’ he signed the other paper before passing that across the table as well, ‘is a rather well-worded power of attorney: that is a legal document, basically declaring your agreement that I get to make all your choices for you: legal, medical, financial – everything.’ He paused to allow Claire and her friends to scan the papers, chuckling as their expressions grew pale, then added,

‘Sign them both. Donny, Shaun, Jasmine, and Sarah will sign too – as witnesses. The slave contract I’ll keep – maybe frame – while the power of attorney gets filed with the courts: if, of course, I happen to actually win the hand. Oh,’ he waved dismissively at the collar Shaun was holding, ‘just to indulge Shaun’s love of theatrics, you get to put that collar on: if I win, he’ll seal it with the padlock – sort of a symbolic gesture kind of a deal, okay?’

Claire could feel herself trembling – partially out of rage, partially out of trepidation. She knew Kyle was just milking the moment for all it was worth, trying his best to humiliate her, maybe even get her to back down and fold in the face of all his… what did he call them? – ‘theatrics’. Well, she fumed to herself, let him have his fun: in a few moments it’d all be over, with her as the winner. Nodding silently she took the pen and signed both the papers then, with a nervous breath, took the collar and fastened it around her own neck (trying not to care that she had to expose her breasts to do so). Finally, as a spur-of-the-moment act of defiance, a display of confidence, she leant down and pressed her lips to the slave contract, leaving a red lipstick kiss next to her signature – something to remind Kyle what he’d never get his hands on. Claire watched as her roommates both, a little reluctantly, signed as witnesses. Finally Donny and Shaun also signed, and Donny placed the papers carefully to one side while Shaun took up position next to Claire, padlock at the ready (Claire chose to ignore the fact that Shaun’s cock was beginning to stiffen in anticipation at her potential fate).

‘If you’ve quite finished messing about,’ Claire fairly spat the words across the table at Kyle, ‘let’s see the cards.’

‘Certainly,’ Kyle smiled. Claire grinned herself as she laid her near-perfect hand on the table. Sarah let slip a girlish giggle and clapped her hands lightly together, and for a moment Claire revelled in the sweet rush of victory…

… then Kyle laid down his perfect hand, trumping hers despite the astronomical odds against it.

Claire’s head began to swim, her vision blur, her temples throb. She clutched the edge of the table to steady herself, dimly aware of Shaun whooping in delight as he snapped the padlock shut, sealing the collar she wore. Her breathing suddenly shallow with panic Claire fought for air as Kyle’s lawyer-slick voice echoed in her ears,

‘Well played, Claire,’ she heard him laugh, a harsher tone to it than before as he added, ‘just not well enough.’ Rooted with shock Claire sat helpless as she watched Kyle stand, stretch, and casually step round the table. Calmly, gently, he caressed her cheek for a moment, then slid his fingers into Claire’s luscious blonde hair… and grabbed hard enough to make her wince, forcing her head back. ‘Now,’ he declared, leaning close enough that Claire could feel the heat of his breath on her face, ‘you’ll look much better on your knees.’ With that he forced her from her chair to the ground. Still barely aware what was happening, Claire yelped and lashed out on instinct. Kyle growled, catching both her wrists in one hand, painfully tightening his grip in her hair with the other as he did so.

‘Tie her,’ Kyle ordered. Shaun quickly stepped behind Claire’s kneeling form, pulled her arms behind her and, grabbing one of the leather belts earlier discarded into the game’s pot, looped it around both her wrists before pulling it tight and tying it off. Looking almost as shocked as Claire, Jasmine and Sarah made as if to move to her aid, but Donny blocked them: it sounded like he was talking rapidly to them both in his calm, charming, manner, but Claire couldn’t see and couldn’t concentrate. She was finally starting to get her breathing under control, to slow her racing heart, when Kyle, one hand still firmly gripping her hair, stepped closer, his other hand unbuttoning his pants. After a moment’s groping he pulled out his semi-erect penis and thrust it towards Claire’s face. She tried to shy away, to struggle free, but his grip in her hair was too strong, and the leather belt held her wrists tightly bound behind her back.

‘Get to work, slave,’ he murmured, then (after Claire failed to dignify his instruction with a response) added, ‘or do you need to be punished first?’

Claire fought back the urge to vomit, trying to think things through. What had she expected if he’d won? Of course he was after a blowjob, he was a guy wasn’t he? It was sick, but she guessed she’d have to play along… at least for the time being. They’d probably all have a good laugh at her expense, make her spend the night demeaning herself for their amusement, then let her go in the morning. She hated it, but couldn’t think what else to do. She cursed her own stupidity, the pride which had brought her, quite literally, to her knees, but told herself she’d get through it. Blinking back tears Claire nodded; in response Kyle’s grip loosened a little. Trying to tell herself that it was just a blowjob, that is wasn’t anything she hadn’t done for boyfriends in the past, Claire took another deep, calming, breath, moistened her lips, and leaned forward to draw her tongue along Kyle’s cock. Her ministrations were rewarded as Kyle’s member continued to swell and stiffen; she switched between little suckling kisses along the shaft and head, and long lapping strokes of her tongue up the curve of its underside. Wrists squirming and chaffing in their makeshift leather bindings Claire concluded that the task she performed was much harder without the use of her hands: she found she had no control over pacing. That lack of control was at once maddeningly frustrating and deeply humiliating – she felt less like a person and more like a piece of meat, a base vessel for Kyle to take his pleasure from as he saw fit. As if to underscore her thoughts, Kyle slid the fingers of his other hand into her hair as well, grinding his groin forwards as he pulled her head down onto him, his cock slipping between her moist, full, lips to thrust deep into her mouth, its head teasing its way into her throat. Fighting the urge to choke, to gag, Claire did her best to keep her lips sealed firmly around the intruding member, using her tongue to lick down its underside on Kyle’s backstroke, to flick lightly over its tip when he withdrew all but the head, and to try to keep her throat as relaxed as she could when he pounded forward once more – each successive stroke thrusting harder, deeper and faster than the last. Finally, with a strangled grunt, Kyle thrust as deep as he could, crushing Claire’s face into his groin, the head of his cock buried down her throat, and held her tightly as he shuddered three, four, times, firing streams of hot cum which Claire had no choice but to swallow as best she could. For long moments Kyle held the pose, and Claire began to feel a rising panic that she’d suffocate; but eventually he let out a breath she hadn’t even realised he’d been holding and eased back. Gasping precious air in through her nose Claire forced herself to not gag, having to swallow several more times until the urge to do so faded, all the while keeping her bruised lips tight around Kyle’s now semi-hard member. It seemed as though Kyle was content to leave his cock in Claire’s mouth for the moment so, trying to guess what he wanted her to do, she lapped and suckled at it, milking out and swallowing the last drops of cum and cleaning the thing as best she could. She supposed that she’d guessed correctly, as Kyle’s grip in her hair loosened, turning to much gentler stroking, and he let slip a long, low, contented-sounding murmur.

‘I think,’ Kyle commented softly as he finally withdrew from Claire’s mouth and she, on involuntary instinct, licked her tingling, somewhat swollen, lips, ‘that I’ll definitely enjoy owning you.’

  Kneeling naked before Kyle, wrists bound behind her, the taste of his sweat, his cum, still lingering on her lips and tongue, Claire felt anything but confident; still, with a show of determination she tossed her hair out of her eyes, raised her chin, and fixed him with her best approximation of a defiant look,

‘So,’ she’d wanted her tone to convey righteous indignation, but she couldn’t stop a slight tremor creeping in which made her voice sound pitiful and pleading to her own ears, ‘you’ve claimed your winnings. I hope you enjoyed it. Now untie me and give me back my clothes – I’ve got lectures in the morning.’

Kyle feinted contemplating her request for a few moments before replying,

‘No… I think not. I won you fair and square, slave – I’m not planning on giving you up any time soon.’

Fluttering panic began to surge in Claire’s chest and gut: for the first time the thought struck her that Kyle could actually be enough of a spoilt, rich, egomaniac that he’d try to hold her to the whole slavery thing for real. Worse: between his family’s connections and those stupid documents she’d idiotically signed, he might actually be able to do just that! Breaths coming quick and shallow Claire squirmed round to try to see the reactions of the others, to make sure they weren’t about to let Kyle have his insane way. To her horror none of them seemed like they were ready to do anything to stop Kyle: Shaun was holding Sarah close, his arm round her waist with his meaty hand slipped down her panties, whilst Sarah, who’d put her vest back on whilst Claire had been busy with Kyle, was slowly massaging her fist up and down the big guy’s rock-hard cock (Claire noted dimly that Sarah hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d boasted of the thing’s girth). Sarah was giggling, a devilish glint in her green eyes, as Shaun leant down to whisper into her ear – both had their eyes fixed on Claire. Donny – beautiful Donny who Claire had been so attracted to – was paying Claire no heed whatsoever as he stood, beer in hand, chatting animatedly with Jasmine; the black girl was leaning back with her elbows against the kitchen counter, long legs stretched out, a loosely buttoned guy’s shirt (to Claire’s annoyance she was pretty sure it was Donny’s) covering her more-than-ample breasts. Claire felt her last vestiges of hope fall away as Jasmine caught her pleading look and responded with nothing more than a brief expression of sympathy and a slight shrug, before turning her attention back, with a warm smile, to whatever Donny was talking about.

‘G-guys?’ Claire’s voice cracked a little, tears welling unbidden in her eyes, ‘Guys – come on. You’ve had your joke, now untie me, please. Y-you,’ her gaze flickered quickly to Kyle, then back to the others, ‘you can’t really be serious about all this, can you? I… I mean it’s not legal… I have rights… I… mmrphh!’

Claire found her protestations cut short as Kyle stuffed something – her own panties – into her mouth, gagging her. Before she could spit them out he pulled a second belt (from the pile of discarded clothes on the kitchen table) across her mouth, slipping the worn leather strap just behind her front teeth, and secured it round the back of her head, sealing the makeshift cotton gag in place. As his hands left her Claire fell onto her side, wriggling on the cool tiles of the kitchen floor as she battled to breathe through her nose and fight down the wave of nausea and panic which threatened to overwhelm her. It was a few moments later that Kyle pushed her onto her back with a single, rather contemptuous, nudge of his foot. Crouching down next to Claire’s head, he gently smoothed strands of blonde hair from her face as he spoke to her in a calm, if somewhat patronising, manner,

‘No Claire,’ he sounded as if he were an exasperated teacher addressing a rather slow pupil, ‘you don’t have any “rights”, you signed them away, remember? This was your choice, your wager, to make – you really should try to be a little more graceful in defeat.’

Beginning to feel a little light headed Claire blinked tears from her eyes as the others joined Kyle, their faces forming a circle in her vision as she lay on her back. Of all of them Jasmine looked the least comfortable, but Claire watched helplessly as Donny placed a reassuring hand on her friend’s shoulder and Jasmine’s expression smoothly flowed from a concerned frown to a sympathetic smile.

‘He’s right, honey,’ Jasmine traced her fingertips lightly through the tears on Claire’s cheek as she spoke, ‘you signed and we all witnessed it. There’s not really anything we could do if we wanted to. Maybe you should listen to what Kyle tells you? After all, you’re his responsibility now: worrying about what you can’t change won’t help you.’

Claire tried to reply, but the gag transformed her words into little more than a rather muffled moan. Sarah’s pixie-like face loomed into view as she took her turn,

‘Come on Claire,’ she smiled her cheeky smile as she spoke, ‘I know you: you’ll bounce back – you’re too competitive for anything else. Before you know it you’ll be working overtime to be the best slave you possibly can!’ They all laughed at that, even Jasmine hiding a guilty smile behind her long dark hair. Claire felt her reason abandoning her: even her friends, her best friends, were telling her there was no turning back, no way to reclaim the life she’d had just a short while before – she’d literally signed her life away, and done so with both eyes open because she’d thought she couldn’t lose. She faintly recalled something about pride and falls… but the thought quickly abandoned her as Shaun’s mitt-like paws suddenly grabbed her breasts in big, painful, handfuls. She winced and arched her back off the floor as he squeezed and kneaded at them, his face a lecherous grin,

‘I get to fuck her next!’ he cried dibs on her body like a kid calling shotgun for a car ride. Wide-eyed, unable to yell through her gag, Claire was shocked to see Sarah giggle rather than go ballistic in response her boyfriend’s crude, aggressive, lust. For their part Jasmine at least managed to look disgusted, whilst Donny just shook his head sadly at his friend’s uncouth manner. To Claire’s surprise it was Kyle’s firm, steady, voice which stopped Shaun in his tracks,

‘Not tonight,’ he declared, as he slowly, but deliberately, removed Shaun’s hands from Claire’s breasts. She slumped back to the tiled floor, breasts throbbing painfully, as Kyle fixed Shaun with a cool look which seemed enough to get the big guy to back down. ‘You’ll get your chance,’ Kyle added, much to Shaun’s apparent delight, and Claire’s deep foreboding, ‘but tonight I think we need to make this slut a little more presentable.’ For a moment Claire didn’t understand what Kyle was talking about, but he soon made it painfully clear as he reached across her prone body, pinched a large tuft of her blonde pubic hair, twisted and pulled: Claire squeezed her eyes shut at the sudden stinging pain, her pelvis jerking clean off the tiled floor as Kyle yanked the tuft free, admired it between his thumb and fingers for a few moments, then scattered the little hairs to the wind with a small puff of breath. Sarah giggled again (the way Sarah seemed to be enjoying the show Claire was starting to think the little bitch had a pronounced mean streak), while Jasmine looked at first shocked, then simply smiled and nodded. Shaun punched the air and bellowed, ‘Hell yeah!’, but it was Donny who headed off to quickly return with a can of shaving foam, a bottle of aftershave and, of all things, an old-fashioned straight-edged razor.

At the sight of the razor’s gleaming blade Claire tried once more to scrabble free, her protests lost in her panty-wadded mouth, but it seemed as though they all thought it would be great fun to see her most intimate parts shaved by the dangerous implement and they quickly moved to pin her down. Soon she found herself on her back with her legs under her, as if she’d tried a back-bridge from a kneeling position, wrists still bound behind her, and her thighs spread wide and held that way by Sarah and Jasmine. Shaun’s massive hands pinned her shoulders back, while it looked like Kyle was to wield the razor, with Donny assisting him: it was far from a comfortable position, and Claire found herself unreasonably thankful that she’d started attending yoga classes the previous semester. Feeling horribly exposed and more vulnerable than ever, Claire watched helplessly as Donny squirted a generous dollop of cool shaving foam onto his hand, then lathered it onto Claire’s pubic triangle, causing her to shiver – for all she’d daydreamed about Donny’s touch, she’d never expected to experience it quite like that! Claire felt a sudden surge of shame wash over her, flushing colour to her cheeks and threatening tears at the corners of her eyes – the feeling only intensified, mingling with nervous trepidation, as Kyle lowered the razor and began to shave her in slow, confident, strokes.

Although the process seemed to drag out interminably to Claire’s mind, she realised that it was actually over quite quickly. Kyle had made a good job of it, no nicks or cuts, and Claire wondered if he used a straight-edged razor himself. The shave was a close one: Claire’s newly denuded skin tingled as if it’d been numb with pins-and-needles, the kitchen’s air-conditioned breeze felt cool, and although she knew it was illogical, Claire felt more embarrassed than ever – as if some last trace of respectability had been scraped away. Squeezing her eyes closed against building tears of shame, Claire failed to notice as Kyle splashed aftershave onto his fingers – but she certainly felt the sting as he slapped it, hard, onto her smooth, shaved, pussy! Once more she jumped and wriggled uselessly, eyes shot wide open, much to the amusement of the others.

Kyle took a moment or two to admire his handiwork, causing Claire to shiver as he ran his fingers over her silky-smooth privates before carefully pulling apart her labia,

‘Just getting to know my new toy,’ he quipped, thrusting two fingers deep inside her as he did so. Claire bucked, moaning ineffectually into her panty-gag. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, but she was wet enough for him to enter her with little resistance and, as soon as his strong thumb found and began massaging the pearl of her clit, there was little she could do to hold back a shuddering orgasm, her inner muscles grasping hungrily at Kyle’s intruding digits in a lewd display of wanton lust. Working her clit only lightly with his thumb, Kyle held his fingers still, forcing Claire to thrust onto him, making her fuck him to relieve her sexual tensions. Even as she did it, took her pleasure while she could, Claire hated herself for giving in like that – she couldn’t hide from the fact that she’d, in that moment, given in and allowed Kyle to win: in that moment she’d truly become his slave.

  Lying on the kitchen floor, breathing heavily through her nose, Claire shivered as the warm glow of her orgasm faded. Mind slowly pushing through its post-orgasmic haze, she dimly became aware that the others had stepped away from her. Donny and Jasmine were both getting dressed, Jasmine saying something about it being late, and Donny offering to accompany her home. Shaun, on the other hand, was still standing naked, his fully erect penis proudly on display (despite not wanting to dwell on thoughts about that particular member: after her earlier conversation with Sarah, Claire found herself judging that Shaun’s erect cock was probably an average five or six inches in length, but possibly as thick as a can of soda).

‘Well I’m not going anywhere,’ the big guy boomed, ‘until I get to fuck something. Come on Kyle – I’ll try not to break her!’

‘You always break my toys, Shaun,’ Kyle retorted with a friendly smirk as he returned from seeing Donny and Jasmine to the front door, ‘this time you can at least let me play a while first.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Shaun whined playfully, gesticulating towards his cock, ‘just look at this raging boner: do you want me to suffer? Is that it? I thought we were friends…’

Standing next to Shaun, arms folded across her chest, Sarah let out a sigh, rolled her eyes, and shook her head, before reaching out to tightly grab Shaun’s thick penis,

‘Come on, big man,’ she snapped jokingly as she led Shaun from the room by his cock, ‘I can’t take your whinging any longer: I’ll fuck you… but I’m going to be on top – I’m not going to end tonight squished under your Neanderthal carcass!’ Trotting along behind her Shaun failed to hide his wide smile and he mock-whimpered,

‘Ooh – please be gentle with me!’

Stepping over to Claire’s side Kyle laughed at Sarah and Shaun’s antics, and called out to them,

‘Use any of the guest rooms, guys – I’ll see you in the morning. Have fun!’

Crouching down, Kyle slipped a hand under Claire’s back to help her up into a kneeling position,

‘Shaun’s going to be chomping at the bit until I let him fuck you,’ he told her conversationally, ‘and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if your good friend Sarah isn’t equally keen to watch as he does it: she seems to be quite the little sadist under that Tinkerbelle exterior.’

Still gagged and bound Claire could do little to respond aside from giving Kyle what she hoped was a mean sidelong look; in reality she could feel her heart racing as involuntary images of Shaun’s massive frame crushing her as his thick cock ploughed mercilessly into her too-small cunt flooded her mind’s eye – in her imagination she pictured Sarah in that scene, dressed like some leather-clad dominatrix, whipping a riding crop across Shaun’s bobbing butt, urging him to go faster, harder, deeper, to rip Claire apart… Feeling a warm blush flushing her cheeks Claire turned her face away from Kyle, but he simply smiled and grasped one of her breasts in either hand – firmly, but not in the bellicose manner which Shaun had earlier – and strummed his thumbs across her thimble-like erect nipples. A slight shudder passed through Claire’s body, but she didn’t pull away: there seemed little point in trying, and little point in denying that, despite her fear and disgust at the prospect of being used as Shaun’s fuck-toy, the sick idea (as well as Kyle’s rather skilful fingers) also sent an electric tingle of arousal through her body.

‘Don’t worry,’ Kyle spoke just a little above a whisper, his tone soft, almost loving, ‘I mean to let Shaun, and others, use you soon enough; but always remember – you belong to me: if others use you, it’s because I let them. You’re my slave; your purpose is to serve me.’

Claire risked flicking a glance at Kyle’s face, and found her eyes locked with his. For all she knew it was madness to do so, in that moment she felt a strange sort of comfort, of security, in his possessiveness. Not really willingly to acknowledge why she did it, Claire nodded her agreement and understanding to Kyle… he was her Master.

Suddenly the perversely intimate moment passed, as Kyle stood, still grasping Claire’s breasts, bringing her to her feet. Claire fancied she saw a malevolent gleam in Kyle’s dark eyes as a crooked smile broke across his face and he pinched her nipples hard between his thumbs and forefingers, twisting and pulling a little, causing Claire to wince in pain. Before she had time to draw breath he spun her round and shoved her so that she was bent over the kitchen table, breasts flattened against cool varnished wood and scattered playing cards, face buried in the clothes and cash which remained of the game’s pot. As Claire managed to squirm so that at least her face lay on its side and she could breathe, Kyle kicked her legs further apart and pressed one hand onto her back to hold her down, forcing her to stand on tip-toes, her ass thrust up and pussy gaping. Unable to see behind her Claire listened to Kyle unfasten his pants for the second time that night, her field of vision limited to the blurry form of a too-close fifty dollar bill, her every breath full of the man-scent of the discarded shirt her face was pushed into, the pressure of Kyle’s hand on her back a warm reminder of who she now served. Knowing Kyle was about to fuck her Claire felt fear and anticipation blend together, each long second of waiting which ticked by building the intensity of the sensations. The treacherous thought ran through her mind that she should be thankful that she was gagged: at that moment she couldn’t trust herself not to be begging to have him inside her.

Finally Claire was rewarded as she felt Kyle’s cock slip into her pussy and ram deep into her, his sculpted abs pressing hard against her buttocks, his weight slamming her thighs into the edge of the table, her breasts rolling against the polished wood, her face shifting against discarded clothes. Kyle’s first thrust was unsubtle, almost savage, driving to the heart of Claire’s loins – and she found herself silently thanking him for it, the tears forming in her eyes ones of pleasure… with just a little pain. Again and again Kyle thrust, his rhythm building, and Claire felt herself beginning to slip away into a state of careless, unreasoning, joy as her conscious mind abandoned her to the moment, to the reckless whims and primal urges of her body. Intense orgasm flared from Claire’s loins, but Kyle didn’t break a beat, continuing to pound into her until she began to rise to the peak of pleasure once more. Suddenly he withdrew: Claire let slip an involuntary moan, his absence a cruel shock to her hungry cunt; but then his hands were on her buttocks, prising them apart. A moment later and Claire felt Kyle’s cock, slick with her own juices, press teasingly at her anal bud.

‘Relax…’ Kyle murmured under his breath as he leaned his weight forwards once more, the head of his penis slowly easing open Claire’s sphincter and pushing inside. Claire found it strange: she’d never been willing to try anal sex with any of her old boyfriends, but floating on a sea of endorphins, safe in the knowledge that whatever he did was beyond her control, she found it easy to allow him in. Kyle’s slow entry seemed to go on forever, and Claire found that it felt weirdly satisfying to be full with him. Eventually Claire felt Kyle’s hard abs once more pressing her into the table, and knew he’d buried himself to the root in her ass. He leaned forward, his cock deep inside her, his well-muscled chest pressing down on her back, her breasts pressed flat beneath her; she felt his breath on her neck, smelt his sweat as, for several long moments, he just lay there, the sound of his deep breaths whispering in Claire’s ear. She could feel the steady beat of Kyle’s heart through her back and caught herself wishing that they could stay in that moment forever; closing her eyes, she moaned soft pleasure into her wadded cotton gag.

As Kyle pushed himself up again, his hands tracing over Claire’s shoulders, down her arms, then onto her waist, Claire flexed her fingers, working blood flow back into her bound extremities as her anticipation once more began building to a crescendo. She felt Kyle’s strong hands squeezing her waist, getting purchase as he eased his cock back until only the head was captured by her anus. After a brief pause, he thrust back into her, and once more began to build his rhythm, his strokes getting harder and faster, each one shuddering through Claire’s whole body. Finally, his cock buried root deep once more, Claire felt Kyle squirt his seed into her bowels in a series of intense spasms, and she moaned in response. For a few long moments Claire lay on the table, feeling Kyle’s penis slowly softening inside her, listening to the trip-hammer drumming of her own heart and Kyle’s long, deep, breathes. She felt his fingers trace lightly up her back, brushing her blonde tresses aside, followed by his lips pressing a series of kisses up her spine. His mouth brushed her ear, his tongue briefly flickering over its contours, his voice at once soft and commanding as he whispered,

‘I’m going to enjoy owning you so very much, slave… and I think you’ll enjoy being owned too…’

Claire was finding it hard to form a reasonable argument as to why she shouldn’t agree with Kyle’s statement as he eased out of her, sending another sliver of pleasure through her body. For the moment all she wanted to do was to lay there, collapsed and exhausted, revelling in the sheer wanton hedonism of the moment; if he’d hug her, she didn’t know if she could stop herself falling in love…

… But it seemed that Kyle wasn’t the hugging type, as he grabbed Claire by the hair again, painfully pulled her up, and forced her back to her knees in front of him. Once more she found her head swimming as his tone hardened,

‘Time to clean up your mess, slave,’ he stated, his words edged with a cruel humour. Claire blinked in confusion, finally focusing to face Kyle’s semi-erect penis, fresh and slick from her own anus. Her nose wrinkled at the prospect, even as Kyle reached down to unfasten the belt around her head, its removal coming as a blessed relief to Claire, who took the opportunity to spit out the now-sodden panties which had gagged her, and to work some life back into her aching mouth and jaw. A painful twist of Kyle’s fist in Claire’s hair forced her attention back to the task at hand; Kyle’s whip-crack snapping the belt he still held in his other hand to reinforce his point was, Claire felt, unnecessary overkill… although she did find herself eying the long leather strap warily. Leaning towards Kyle’s cock once more Claire sniffed and involuntarily recoiled at the unpleasant aroma. Glancing up at Kyle with her best puppy-dog eyes she began to plead,

‘You don’t really expect me to…’ but her words trailed off as she took in Kyle’s all-too-serious expression. With a resigned sigh Claire lowered her gaze, as she concluded instead, ‘… yes Master. Of course, Master,’ and parted her lips to once more take Kyle’s cock in her mouth.

This time Kyle seemed content to let Claire lap and suck at his member, a deep chuckle escaping his throat when Claire’s expression turned to one of sheer revulsion at the state of his penis. She tried hard not to think about what she was doing, but the more she tried, the more her mind forced her to identify and catalogue the various flavours: cum, cunt, sweat, shit… She wished that her mouth wasn’t so dry after being gagged for so long, but by the time she’d worked up enough saliva to really get Kyle’s cock clean, it was once again erect and, holding the belt in both hands, the strap braced behind Claire’s head, he resumed fucking her face. For Claire it was even harsher, more impersonal, than the first time he’d done it: she tried her best to accommodate him, but started to feel desperation creep into her belly as Kyle pounded away and she could do nothing but take it. Claire wasn’t sure how long it took Kyle to cum: her sense of time became warped, boiled down to little more than his constant thrusting between her lips, into her mouth, down her throat. When he did finally spurt into her she gladly gulped it down, just relieved that it was, for the moment, over. Claire wasn’t sure if she was getting used to it, or the flavour was becoming more subdued, but she thought that this time Kyle’s cum tasted a lot milder. As before, she made sure to suck and lap at his cock until she’d milked out every last drop, it was clean, and he pulled it free. Panting, Claire dropped her head to her chest, and closed her eyes, unsure of how much more she could take… and how much more Kyle was planning on dishing out.

‘What do you say?’ Kyle had that patronising tone again, as if he expected Claire to know what he was going on about. Bleary-eyed, she looked up at him,

‘What?’ she asked, voice quavering with genuine confusion. With a deep sigh Kyle made a pantomime of shaking his head with obvious disappointment… then pulled Claire, by her hair, back to her feet and back, face down, over the table. Disbelief flashed across Claire’s mind - surely he wasn’t about to fuck her again already? – but that thought was instantly dispelled as the leather belt Kyle held whip-cracked, and a lightning blast of pain flared in a line across Claire’s buttocks. She yelled and bucked hard against the table, once more finding Kyle’s strong hand firmly pressing her down. The belt snapped across her buttocks twice more in rapid succession: Claire screamed both times, tears of pain, anger, and frustration rolling freely down her cheeks.

‘What do you say when I permit you to serve me?’ Kyle asked, his voice a snarl. Claire tried to answer but found her words choked by her sobs; the belt whipped across her blazing rear three more times. Screams and sobbing blending into one continuous warble, Claire sucked in the deepest breath she could and tried to force out an answer,

‘I… I…’ she began; the whipping paused, enough for her to catch her breath just a little, ‘Thank you, Master!’ she cried, ‘Is that what you mean? Please, Kyle, I…’ Another whip-crack, one more line of searing pain causing Claire to yell, then Kyle replied,

‘That was it,’ he agreed, ‘I think you’re getting the picture: you’re a smart girl, after all.’

Panting hard, sobbing freely, Claire managed to turn a little to glance back at Kyle as best she could,

‘Yes…’ she choked out, ‘… thank you, Master…’

Kyle laughed, then made a show of examining the crimson welts now striping Claire’s backside,

‘You know,’ he mused out loud, ‘these look so good I almost feel like ass-fucking you again…’ Claire’s heart fluttered – she knew she just couldn’t take any more, not yet. Her face must have clearly shown her panic, because Kyle laughed out loud again, then added, ‘… almost. I’m only human, after all.’

Claire didn’t know whether to laugh or cry… then the sheer implausibility of the situation she’d found herself in overwhelmed her and, crazy though she knew it to be, her tears turned into laughter. Kyle’s grin widened,

‘That’s the spirit,’ he said, pulling her to her feet. This time he did hold her in his arms, and Claire lent her head on his shoulder as her laugher and tears dimmed: she was exhausted, confused, and her ass still felt like it was on fire… She tried to ask herself what the Hell she thought she was doing, why she’d let herself get into this mess, why she found herself, at times, all too content to play along – but her mind was in no state to formulate coherent answers. His embrace encircling, engulfing, her, Kyle spoke quietly,

‘The way I see it,’ he reasoned, ‘is that you could respond to your new circumstances in one of several ways. You could try to fight, to rebel: maybe even try to run away. Of course, with the power of attorney you signed, you’d not get far. I control any bank accounts or legal documentation you had. You could try to go to the authorities, but I’d be able to claim that you had mental issues or something – you’d be returned, and I could have you committed: drugs, shock therapy, maybe even a lobotomy to make you more pliable? I can give consent on your behalf for any or all of that, if I so wish. Unless,’ he chuckled quietly, ‘you think that anyone would believe you over me.’ Claire said nothing: she knew all about his rich all-lawyer family with their contacts in the power elite.

Smoothing one hand down Claire’s long honey blonde locks, Kyle continued,

‘On the other hand, you could just give in: end up either a weeping broken mess in the corner, or an empty soulless husk whose mind has fled reality. Honestly,’ he nuzzled a couple of light kisses along her neck, ‘I’d like to believe that you’re a stronger person than that.’

‘Finally,’ Kyle concluded, ‘you could choose to honour the agreements you’ve signed, and live as my slave. You’re competitive, you like to win: your friend Sarah said as much. You’re also an intelligent young woman, and I’m sure if you think things through you’ll realise that there’s only one way for you to win in this situation: by embracing it, by becoming the best slave you can, by taking everything I can dish out, and coming begging for more. I’ll not lie to you – I’m planning on being unreasonable, cruel, of using you in whatever manner best pleases me at the time. You’re to be hurt, humiliated, used and abused. Most people couldn’t handle that, but I think you’re better than most – I think you can make the paradigm shift in your life and revel in the submissive glory of it. Plus,’ he held Claire at arms length and grinned at her, that devilish glint in his dark eyes, ‘if you can’t, then I win, don’t I…’

  For a while Claire found herself almost willing to believe what Kyle had told her, to accept that submitting was what she wanted to do; but by the time he’d found the chain-link leash which went with the dog’s collar padlocked around her neck, clipped it to the ring in the front of the collar, and was leading her up stairs to his bedroom, her wrists still bound behind her back, she’d managed to throw off some of the effects of his lawyer-smooth charms. Coming down from orgasm and ordeal, Kyle’s words had sounded so reasonable, so right, but when she’d had a chance to pause and reflect on them her old rational mind had began to reassert itself: if she stopped to examine the situation she was in, the arguments he was trying to sell her, Kyle was coming across as some sort of psycho… wasn’t he? Normal people just didn’t go around thinking that enslaving others was an okay thing to do… or was Kyle just being more honest than most about what he really wanted the relationship between the two of them to be like? Was her revulsion at the concept of being his slave based on moral certainty, or was it the product of the culture she’d been born into? Was there something wrong with her for even considering such questions? For all Claire wanted the answers to be obvious and clear-cut, she had a hard time convincing herself that the reality was entirely one way or the other. Questions spinning in her head, it took a while for Claire to realise that they’d stopped just inside the doorway of Kyle’s master bedroom.

The room was a large one, with soft carpeting underfoot, the whole thing dominated by one of those double beds with a wrought iron frame. Doors led to a walk-in closet, and an en-suite bathroom. Kyle was frowning slightly, seemingly deep in thought, one hand holding Claire’s leash, the other stroking his chin. Unsure what to do, what reaction she might provoke, Claire waited patiently for a while longer, but eventually, to break the silence, she asked quietly,

‘What’s wrong…’ when Kyle glanced towards her, Claire found herself averting her eyes, looking down at her own feet, as she quickly added, ‘… Master?’

‘Oh, you know,’ Kyle’s tone was friendly, so Claire risked looking up at him, seeing his mouth form a half-smile as he shrugged and continued, ‘just trying to decide where I want you to sleep. Tied to the bed would be kind of fun and, I guess, a “classic” solution but, if I’m being honest, I’d rather get some sleep tonight than fuck you any more…’ Claire failed to conceal a brief hurt look at that comment – for all her mental protestations, she at least wanted to think of herself as fuckable – Kyle chuckled as he saw it, but concluded, ‘... so I guess I could shut you in the closet, or maybe the bathroom… I don’t know…’

‘You really haven’t thought this through, have you?’ Claire let slip the reply as she realised, for the first time, that maybe Kyle didn’t know exactly what he was doing. Confirming her suspicions Kyle raised an eyebrow in a quizzical expression,

‘Hey, it’s not like I planned this or anything…’ for a moment he sounded almost defensive, certainly confused, then a look of realisation dawned on his face, ‘… wait: you think I set this up in advance?’

It was Claire’s turn to shrug,

‘You had those papers all ready, after all, and…’

Kyle held up a hand to stop her, laughing as he shook his head,

‘Those things? Man, I’d forgotten all about them until Donny reminded me. They were just something we worked on a couple of years back: just us law students speculating about what would or wouldn’t be possible under the right circumstances. I’m not even sure how we got started on the topic… some conversation where I was telling him about how old-fashioned my family can be, I think… anyway, it was one of those discussions which ran on for a while. We did the research, drew up the papers – just an intellectual project really, a curiosity. Then, earlier, when you offered yourself to me as a wager Donny mentioned the things, and I recalled that I still had the files on my laptop: Donny gave them the once-over, a quick click to print and…’ he gave a sweeping gesture which took in Claire’s nude, bound, form, ‘… here we are.’

Claire found her presumptions knocked a little off-balance,

‘You mean it was Donny who suggested this…’ her brow furrowed as she thought about it, ‘… I would have imagined it was you… or even Shaun…’

‘Big Shaun?’ Kyle smiled, ‘I’ll admit the guy was like a kid in a candy store when he heard the idea, but let’s be honest: he’s more the sort to want you as a simple fuck-doll than as a legally-bound slave.’

Claire let out a rather bitter laugh,

‘That sounds like semantics to me,’ she observed, ‘and as for being legal…’

‘Oh it’s all legal,’ Kyle assured her, ‘well… technically not the “slave” part… but as near as possible. They may have been a flight of fancy at the time, but those papers are properly drawn-up legal documents. As far as the law will see it, for all intents and purposes, I do own you, slave.’

Claire opened her mouth to argue the point but stopped, a sudden realisation of her predicament catching up with her. Instead she murmured,

‘Why would Donny even suggest something like this?’

‘Donny’s a smart guy,’ Kyle explained, happily, ‘a genius really: after putting all that time in a couple of years ago I imagine he just wanted to see if it could be done – he’s got one of those minds. Neither of us had ever thought we’d get a willing participant like you but, as Donny pointed out, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. Besides,’ he stepped close to Claire, grabbing and kneading her breasts to punctuate his point, ‘he’s a good friend, and knew how much I’d love this.’

Claire let slip a shallow gasp at Kyle’s rough handling, flushing deeply both from a sense of shame and humiliation that he could just touch her, play with her, any way he wanted and she couldn’t do a damned thing to prevent it; as well as a treacherous flutter of guilty pleasure in response to Kyle’s masculine hands on her. When he saw her nipples standing proud once more Kyle lent down to suckle at one, then the other, his tongue flicking small sparks of pleasure through Claire’s breasts. Still squeezing, massaging, Kyle grinned at Claire,

‘You really are enjoying this,’ his accusation was mocking, ‘aren’t you, you slut.’

‘I…’ Claire closed her eyes and turned her face away from him, ‘… it’s just cold in here, that’s all…’ the excuse sounded pitiful, even to Claire.

‘Fine.’ Kyle’s voice sounded hard, maybe even a little offended. Claire peeked open her eyes… just in time to watch, helpless, as Kyle flicked the leather-loop handle of the dog leash across first one of her breasts, then the other. Stinging pain shot across Claire’s breasts at the cruel strokes: she cried out and bent double as she instinctively tried to protect their sensitive flesh, but Kyle was having none of it. Grabbing her hair yet again, he yanked her up and back until she was forced on tip-toes, back arched and breasts thrust out, displayed and vulnerable.

‘This. Should,’ as he spoke Kyle interposed each word with a whip of the leather loop alternately across each of Claire’s breasts, causing her to howl and cry as her rapidly reddening bosom danced and jiggled to the cruel beat he played out, ‘Help. To. Warm. You. Up. A. Bit. Slave!’

Gulping in sobbing breathes Claire found herself unable to focus on anything but the blazing crimson pain of her breasts. She only had a brief pause before Kyle continued whipping them,

‘Have you forgotten your lesson already, slave?’ he hissed into her ear, the blows falling faster now. Claire fought to concentrate enough to form the words through the pain and her sobbing tears,

‘Th-thank you,’ she managed to gasp out, ‘Thank you, Master! Thank you, Master! Thank you…’

The rain of whipping blows finally stopped, and Kyle let Claire slip from his grasp to fall to her knees, head bowed, tears streaming down her cheeks, to the bedroom floor. A moment later Claire felt the leash tug at her collar: stumbling and staggering, eyes half-blind with tears, she did her best to scrabble to her feet and follow as Kyle led her into the en-suite bathroom. Inside he once more let Claire slump, exhausted, to the tile floor while he unclipped the leash from her collar just long enough to loop it round some of the toilet’s pipe work, passing the leash’s chain through the loop of the leather handle before refastening it to the collar.

‘So I guess you’re sleeping here tonight.’ Kyle’s statement sounded distinctly emotionless to Claire. Part of her wanted to talk to him, beg his forgiveness, find some way to make him happy; while another part just wanted to hide. In the end Kyle made the choice for her – Claire doubted that it’d be the last one – and strode out of the bathroom, turning out the light and shutting the door behind him. Aching, exhausted, miserable, and more than a little dazed at the evening’s turn of events, Claire cried herself to a fitful sleep.

  Claire was unsure how long she’d slept, only that when she awoke there was bright sunlight streaming through the frosted-glass window of the bathroom. Momentarily disoriented, stiff from lying on the hard floor, she tried to stretch, only to wrench her shoulders as she became painfully reacquainted with the leather belt binding her wrists behind her. Cursing loudly she slumped back to the tiled floor, took a few deep breathes, then managed to sit up more slowly. Rolling the hurt out of her tweaked shoulders, flexing blood back into her bound hands and fingers, she took a moment to assess her situation. With a little testing she found that the way the leash was looped around the pipes she could move it along them, but couldn’t unfasten it because she couldn’t reach the clip on the collar. Still, she had enough range of movement that she could stand, and get to the bath, sink, and toilet, although not as far as the door. Glancing in the mirror, Claire thought she looked a mess: tears had turned her make-up into a clownish, panda-eyed, mask, her long honey blonde hair was matted, and her body dirty with stale sweat. Worse still were the slowly fading red welts across her breasts, their ache mirrored also in her bruised butt. Her bedraggled, bound, appearance, the dull throbbing of her bosom and ass, the furred ‘morning after’ taste in her mouth, her smoothly shaved nether region – everything seemed to trigger flashes of the previous night, the agony… and, perhaps even more worrying, the ecstasy as well. Shaking her head in an attempt to banish such spectres, Claire instead spent some effort focusing on turning one of the taps on, blindly feeling it out with her bound hands, then drawing long, cool, drinks of flowing water. Feeling a little revitalised she also let the water flow across her face, washing away the dried tears and helping to refresh her a bit more. First task complete, she made use of the toilet – only realising that she’d no way of wiping herself after the deed was done. That she was unable to complete such a basic, everyday, task stabbed a needle of humiliation through Claire’s chest, and she felt fresh tears welling in her eyes. Suddenly the thought struck her that she was already plastered with her own juices, not to mention Kyle’s cum, down below – she sniffed and laughed bitterly – how much worse could a little shit be?

The sound of vacuuming from a nearby room snapped Claire’s attention away from her maudlin musings. She listened, sitting stock still, feeling her heart thump in her chest. Who was it? Surely not Kyle – he didn’t seem the type to do his own housework. Shaun and Sarah weren’t strong possibilities either. Barely daring to allow herself hope, she screwed up what courage she could and began calling out. It seemed like an age, but eventually the bathroom door crept open and a rather attractive Hispanic woman, a little older than Claire – maybe in her mid-twenties – peaked round, eyes widening with shock as she beheld Claire. Trying to ignore the burning blush which flushed across her skin at her embarrassment of being seen in such a state, Claire tried to remain calm,

‘Help me,’ she hissed in a whisper, ‘untie me, please!’

The Hispanic woman shook her head, and Claire felt her tiny hope crumble away,

‘Sorry, señorita,’ the woman sounded nervous as she spoke, ‘señor Kyle told me not to.’

‘Look,’ with mounting desperation, Claire’s tone came out harsher than she’d intended, ‘I’m a captive here, understand? I’ve been kidnapped. You have to help he escape before he returns.’

A frown furrowed the Hispanic woman’s dusky brow. Opening the door further and taking a step into the room she shook her head again: Claire saw that the woman was dressed in a rather old-fashioned looking maid’s outfit – short-sleeved black dress which stopped at the knees, lace-edged white apron, seamed black stockings, and black high-heels. Claire mentally corrected herself – the outfit was more like a guy’s fantasy of what an old-fashioned maid would look like. The woman filled the outfit well – long legs and plenty of curves - her long dark hair was fastened back in a simple ponytail, and she wore just a little make-up: enhancing, rather than hiding, her natural good looks. Apparently taking a moment to compose her thoughts the woman in the maid’s outfit finally replied,

‘No. Señor Kyle told me about you: showed me the papers you signed, explained your…’ the woman appeared to struggle to find an appropriate word, ‘… relationship. He’s not a criminal: he’s a good man.’

‘What?’ Claire shifted uneasily, incredulous at the woman’s response, ‘and you believed him? You think I want to be tied here, unable to even wipe my own ass?! That I want to be his slave? Think about it: how could that be legal? People can’t just get away with…’ she trailed off, her anger suddenly slipping away as her own words triggered a moment of clarity. She continued in a murmur, talking more to herself than to the maid, ‘… but that’s the point, isn’t it? Getting away with it. He’s not a criminal – not in the eyes of the law. That’s our system – innocent until proven guilty – and with his family, his friends, the law will be on his side. It doesn’t matter that he’s abusing the spirit of the law, just that he can use the letter of the law for his own gains.’ Claire paused, feeling numb as the reality of her situation finally sank in. Blinking back tears she glanced up at the maid – who was eying her with a confused mix of suspicion and sympathy. Letting out a deep sigh Claire managed a shrug, ‘we like to think our society is ruled by justice and morality,’ she mused aloud, ‘but it’s really only ruled by law and that, at best, can only aim to approximate justice and morality. Guys like Kyle will always find ways to play the system, as long as a system exists – and a system has to exist or there’d be anarchy. He’s played me, and the whole damned system will support his right to do so.’

‘I’m sorry,’ the maid offered Claire a sad smile, ‘you seem an intelligent young lady. I don’t know why you’ve chosen… this,’ she took in Claire and her bindings with a wave of her hand, ‘but you have, and I can’t change that. I’d like to help you, but señor Kyle told me not to untie you. His parents have been good to my family; he’s been good to me. This job: it’s well paid, good hours, health insurance…’ she shrugged, ‘… I’m sorry, I hope you understand.’

Claire sighed, shaking her head – she couldn’t fault this woman for not wanting to rock the boat. In the end she only had herself to blame for where she’d ended up… well, she corrected herself, she could save a little blame for Kyle and his friends… but mostly it was her own fault. Glancing up at the maid Claire managed to force a smile,

‘I’m the one who should be sorry,’ she apologised, ‘it was unfair of me to ask you to go against Kyle’s word. I’m…’ she faltered a little, but managed to continue, ‘… I’m still getting used to all this. Let’s start again: what’s your name?’

‘Maria,’ the maid replied, appearing relived that Claire had calmed down.

‘I’m Claire.’

‘We’ll see,’ came Maria’s rather cryptic murmured response, but Claire let it pass; instead she asked,

‘I’d like to understand what Kyle’s instructions are. I take it you’re his maid?’ Maria nodded, Claire pressed on, ‘He said you shouldn’t untie me. Would you be okay with helping me get cleaned up? I know I’m pretty disgusting right now, and it’s a terrible thing to have to ask, but… I’d like to look good for Kyle when he gets back.’

Maria looked thoughtful for a while, then grinned,

‘Alright,’ she nodded and stepped closer to Claire, ‘I had to take care of my bedridden grandfather from the age of thirteen to when he died five years later – compared to the state he got in, you’re practically spotless.’ Looking over Claire, she took a wad of toilet paper in hand, ‘First things first,’ she stated in a professional manner, ‘stand up and bend over.’

A fresh sense of humiliation bringing a hot blush to her face, Claire dutifully assumed the position as Maria set to the task of making her presentable.

  After Maria was done cleaning Claire up, sponging her off, brushing her teeth, reapplying her make-up, Claire at least felt and looked much more presentable – even if the experience had made her feel like a little girl unable to manage by herself as her mother fussed over her. Maria had left her soon after, to finish the rest of her chores around Kyle’s house: as Claire had suspected, Kyle did none of his own washing or cleaning, little of his own shopping, and only some of his cooking. Claire had inquired discretely about the maid’s outfit, but Maria dismissed it out of hand – apparently it was what the female staff wore at Kyle’s parent’s house, and Maria considered the uniform no great burden to wear considering how good she felt the job was overall. Claire wondered if there was, or ever had been, any sexual relationship between Maria and Kyle, but she’d not dared ask, and Maria hadn’t revealed anything. The maid had even returned to bid Claire goodbye before she left for the day, and Claire found herself feeling ridiculously grateful for even the small touches of human kindness the woman had given her.

It was a long time after Maria left that Claire heard Kyle return home. The sun had set some time previous, and Claire had been getting both bored and hungry – Maria hadn’t been certain whether Kyle would want her feeding Claire or not, so Claire had decided not to push her luck on the point. When she’d finally heard Kyle come in – it sounded like he was alone – Claire had expected him to rush straight up to see her, and stood waiting, nerves tingling with fear and anticipation, for quite some time before she’d realised he wasn’t hurrying to make an appearance. She considered yelling out to him but, on reflection, decided that it was unlikely he’d forgotten about her, and yelling wouldn’t exactly come across as dignified. So it was that Claire was sitting perched on the edge of the bathtub, legs crossed, counting the number of tiles in the room for the fifth time, when Kyle finally made an appearance.

‘Miss me, slave?’ he asked casually as he strolled into the bathroom, clad in jeans and a black shirt he wore with the cuffs rolled up a short way and the top couple of buttons undone – almost as if he was prepared for some exertion. Claire jumped a little, having allowed herself to be lulled back into boredom as she’d waited for him, but then she thought about the innocent sounding question,

‘Yes,’ she replied honestly, meeting his gaze with her deep blue eyes, ‘it’s not like I’ve had anything to do all day.’

‘Well,’ Kyle shrugged, ‘we can’t have that, now, can we. Turn around.’ That last instruction prompted Claire to notice something in Kyle’s hand as she dutifully rose and turned: a pair of buckled leather wrist-cuffs with a short length of chain connecting them. Sure enough Kyle untied the belt which had bound her wrists together since the previous night and tossed it to one side. Instinctively Claire moved her arms in front of her, examining and rubbing her sore wrists – to her surprise Kyle seemed willing to patiently wait as she did so. Although reddened and aching, to her relief Claire found her skin unbroken, and no serious bruising or other damage. Glancing up at the mirror she watched as Kyle stepped up behind her, placing one hand on her shoulder and leaning down to kiss her neck; she sighed softly, unsure whether what she felt was contentment or resignation… and what the difference would be in her situation in any case. When Kyle took a step back again, bringing up the new cuffs, Claire simply held her arms out behind her without comment, watching him in the mirror as he smiled at her acceptance and buckled them in place. Fastened on, Claire could immediately tell that the cuffs were a lot more comfortable than the make-shift belt had been – they were obviously designed for the purpose and sported a soft padded lining; also, the short length of chain allowed a more forgiving range of motion than having her wrists bound on top of one another. She flexed a couple of times, testing the bindings and, as expected, found them secure – if she was certain of anything it was that Kyle was the sort of guy who always brought the best, whether it were cars or bondage gear.

‘Much better,’ she murmured, as much to herself as to Kyle. His smile widen,

‘Hey,’ he playfully chided her, ‘that’s my line.’ Claire returned his smile in the mirror and shrugged,

‘It’s true – they are much better.’

Turning her in place, Kyle cupped Claire’s face in his hands, appearing for a moment to search her expression, her eyes, as if he were trying to read her thoughts; Claire simply gazed into his dark eyes and waited.

‘You’re more relaxed,’ Kyle observed, his hands dropping to her shoulders, ‘have you decided to honour your agreements?’

Claire held his stare for several heartbeats, then turned her face aside,

‘I… I’m not sure,’ she admitted with a sigh, ‘I’ve been thinking about it, yes, but I don’t think that it’s something you can just do, something you turn on and off like a switch. Then again,’ a touch of anger returned to her tone as she shot an accusing glance towards Kyle, ‘it’s not like I have much of a choice, now, is it?’

Kyle shrugged,

‘In what I make you do… or do to you… no; but I can’t force your acceptance or rejection of your state – that’s up to you alone.’

‘So, whatever I “chose” you’ll still fuck me or whip me?’ Claire felt frustration, anger, and trepidation rising in her chest once more, ‘What choice is that?’

‘The only one you get,’ Kyle laughed, adding, ‘would you like me to fuck or whip you?’

Claire shot him an angry look,

‘Does it matter what I’d like?’ she pouted. Kyle rubbed his hand across his chin for a moment in a thoughtful expression,

‘No,’ he finally concluded, ‘I guess not.’

‘What do you want of me anyway?’ there was an edge of desperation to the question which Claire hadn’t meant it to have, ‘do you want me silent all the time: a piece of furniture, or a pet, or something? Do you want me to be scared of you? Or to love you? I don’t know,’ she hung her head, ‘am I breaking some “rule” or other just by asking these questions? What is it you want?’

There was a long pause before Kyle answered, his words sounding considered and honest,

‘I don’t want you silent or fearful all the time, no. What would the point of that be? If I want you silent I’ll gag you, if I want you scared I’m sure I can think up a few ways to do that too. But I guess you’re asking if I want to “break your will”… No, that’s the last thing I want. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent the day dreaming up some pretty inhumane things we can do, but whatever I do to you, or make you do, it’s the very fact that you’re a person who’s being subjected to them which makes them so… interesting. I want you to be you, and I want you to be my slave, not my zombie. As for any “rules” there might be,’ he flashed her one of his dangerous-looking crooked smiles, ‘it’s much more fun if you get to find out the hard way.’

‘Fun for you…’ Claire muttered.

‘Yes,’ Kyle stated in a matter of fact way, ‘of course.’ Suddenly he grasped her breasts again, causing Claire to gasp out in surprise as well as a little lingering pain from the previous night’s whipping. Staring at Kyle she felt her heart rate speed up, her breathing come shallow, and a shiver pass down her spine as she endured his handling, fearful yet excited of what would come next.

‘I love these things,’ Kyle mused, fingers kneading her soft flesh, thumbs circling her large areolas causing her thimble-like nipples to stand proud.

‘Good,’ Claire whispered through gritted teeth, a hint of bitterness in her tone ‘since I guess they belong to you now.’

 ‘You’re learning,’ Kyle replied, ‘I’ll give you that.’

For a while Kyle focused his attentions on Claire’s breasts, squeezing, pulling, licking, suckling, causing Claire to moan in equal parts pleasure and pain; but before long the evidence of his arousal was straining at the crotch of his jeans. Pushing Claire back against the bathroom wall Kyle unbuttoned and pulled out his cock, swiftly slipping it deep into her cunt. He ran his hands down Claire’s sides, along her thighs, guided her to wrap her legs around his waist, her ankles crossed behind his butt, then slid his hands back to grasp her buttocks, helping both to support her weight and to pull her harder onto his cock. Claire gasped and moaned freely: the position was driving him deeper into her than before and, she had to admit to herself, it felt good. As she arched her back, Kyle kept kissing and licking her breasts, teasing her nipples with tongue and lips, even lightly nibbling with his teeth – which hurt a little… but it was a nice hurt… It struck Claire that this was probably the closest the two of them had come to ‘normal’ sex yet, just before an orgasm shuddered through her, long and deep, and she felt Kyle pumping his load into her as he climaxed too.

Panting, post-orgasmic buzz slowly fading, Claire unwrapped her legs from Kyle as his penis began to soften within her, becoming unable hold her up. For a few moments he leaned heavily against her, his scent strong in her nostrils as his masculine bulk pined her to the wall, then he took a step back, breathing deeply, and gestured towards his semi-erect cock. Claire sighed and sank to her knees,

‘Yes, I know,’ she told him in a weary voice, ‘clean it up,’ then rapidly added, just before she took his now-familiar cock into her mouth, ‘thank you, Master.’

Knowing what to expect now, Claire wasn’t surprised when her “cleaning” coaxed Kyle’s member erect again, nor when the blowjob turned into him face-fucking her, his hands grabbing her head and thrusting it onto his cock; although he did seem a little more gentle than he’d been the previous night… or maybe she was just getting used to the rough treatment? Swallowing all the cum she could suck from him she waited until he withdrew, slipping his penis back into his jeans, to lick her lips and mutter,

‘That’s the most I’ve had to eat all day…’

Kyle laughed long and hard at that and, un-looping Claire’s leash from the piping, led her downstairs to the kitchen.

  As Kyle led her by her leash through the house, nude and with her wrists still bound behind her by the new leather cuffs, Claire took note that there’d been a multitude of packages delivered, of all shapes and sizes. Some of the packages had been opened, and Claire caught sight of all manner of cuffs and restraints, whips and crops, articles of leather, rubber, and chrome which she eventually, to her shock, worked out were uncomfortable-looking clothing. Glancing back, Kyle noted her dreadful fascination,

‘I’ve been doing a little on-line shopping,’ he explained, ‘although there are several custom items which will take a while to arrive, I think I’ve managed to acquire a nice variety to get us started.’

‘Just how many slaves do you own?’ Claire asked, only half-joking, ‘there’s enough here to supply the Spanish Inquisition!’

‘It’s all for you,’ Kyle replied, pausing to glance over the packages himself, casually picking up some sort of vicious-looking chromed clamp and testing the spring before tossing it back down and shrugging, ‘although I guess I may have gone a little nuts: it’s the curse of one-click shopping; besides, I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d need.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Claire retorted with mock sympathy, ‘I suppose this isn’t easy for you…’

Kyle rolled his eyes in response to Claire’s sarcasm, tugging the leash hard enough that she had to stumble in her efforts to match his pace. Entering the kitchen, Claire saw that Kyle had his laptop open and running on the table, along with numerous official-looking papers, but had little time to see what exactly they were as Kyle grabbed her shoulder and guided her to her knees next to his chair. Half expecting to be made to suck his cock again (guys were so predictable), she instead found that he simply slipped the looped leather handle of the leash over the back of his chair before busying himself over by the counter. Claire waited for a while, then decided to break the silence,

‘You seem to have been busy,’ she observed, ‘anything interesting?’

‘Hmmm,’ Kyle murmured distractedly, ‘oh, just a few chores, you know how it is. I had to close your bank accounts, cancel your driving license and passport, tell the university you’d quit your course, dispose of all the stuff you’d left at the flat… you know, just odds and ends really.’

‘What?!’ the enraged exclamation burst from Claire before she could stop herself, ‘You did what? That’s my life you’re talking about, that’s…’

‘No!’ Kyle raised his voice, the single word cutting Claire off mid-tirade; Kyle paused a moment before continuing, his tone once more calm and oh-so-reasonable, ‘No – that was your life. You bet all that, and lost. This is your life now – here, on your knees, as my slave. Get used to it.’

‘I…’ Claire faltered – she’d spent all day trying to “get used to it”, thought she’d resigned herself to her fate, but now… now he’d gone and made it all so real. There was no going back. Blinking unbidden tears from her eyes she shook her head, her voice a pitiful whimper, ‘… I worked so hard for that…’

‘Hey,’ amazingly, Kyle sounded sympathetic, ‘I realise it’s tough to let go, but it’s for the best. I’m not trying to knock your achievements in life – from all accounts you were a model student. I do question the wisdom of pursuing a degree in “English and Philosophy” though… slavery’s got to be better than that…’

‘Funny,’ Claire sniffed, disgruntled and deadpan, ‘very funny.’

‘Don’t fret, slave,’ Kyle retorted, stepping round the table, ‘just think of it as a change in course: I’m going to make sure you learn all sorts of new tricks and talents. But first,’ he set a doggy-bowl down in front of Claire: in it was a generous helping of dog food – all unidentifiable meat chunks, foul smelling congealed gravy, and nasty-looking jelly - before concluding, ‘you eat.’

Recoiling from the ‘meal’s’ unpleasant odour, nose wrinkled, Claire shot a look of disgust at Kyle,

‘You can’t expect me to eat that,’ she protested, her earlier hunger seeming to fade rapidly, ‘that’s just sick!’

Kyle shrugged,

‘I was planning on flavouring it for you with a little spunk,’ he offered, ‘but you already sucked me dry.’

‘I’d rather go hungry,’ Claire defiantly declared, turning away from the bowl. Kyle let out a deep sigh,

‘Since when was what you’d “rather” do or not do part of all this?’ he demanded, ‘You’re going to eat, and you’re going to eat this. If not now, then tomorrow morning – by then I’m guessing it’ll be a little more putrid, with lots of flies… maybe a few slugs too, if we leave it outside overnight. Still…’ he sighed again, ‘… if that’s what you’d “rather” happen then…’

‘No!’ Claire quickly turned back to the bowl, her mind’s eye swimming with the fouler-still image Kyle had conjured up, ‘I’ll eat it! I…’ she stared at the disgusting meal and swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat, ‘… thank you, Master: I’m… I’m sure it’ll be delicious…’

‘Get on with it then, slave,’ Kyle ordered. Leaning down towards the bowl Claire paused, nose wrinkled by the foul smell, eyes squeezed tightly shut. She tried to tell herself it was just meatballs in gravy… nothing disgusting, just good, wholesome, food… it didn’t help much. Reluctantly, with great effort of will, she parted her lips, lowered her face, and lapped up the first mouthful: it tasted just as foul as it smelled, and Claire had to force herself not to gag as she chewed a few times and, fighting her own instincts, managed to swallow. Glancing up at Kyle, daggers in her eyes, Claire saw that he wore that crooked half-smile, and that there was evidence of his stiffening in his jeans again: whatever his reasons, Kyle was getting off on watching her degrade herself. Snarling, Claire returned her face to the bowl, lapping, chewing, and swallowing her way through the disgusting dog’s dinner, juices and bits if meat and jelly smearing her nose and mouth. The ordeal seemed to last forever, but eventually she finished, making sure to lick to bowl clean in an effort to avoid Kyle’s ire. Kneeling up again she also lapped her tongue around her lips and mouth as best she could, but she just couldn’t reach all of the mess smeared across her face. Hating to admit it, Claire did, at least, feel that the hole gnawing in her belly had been filled. Staring at Kyle she saw that he was reading the label of the tin her meal had come in,

‘Don’t worry, slave’ he quipped, ‘it says here your coat will be nice and glossy.’

‘Claire,’ Claire stated angrily; Kyle glanced at her with a quizzical expression, as she continued, ‘my name is “Claire”: for all you may want to treat me like an animal, I’m a human being. You don’t have to call me “slave” every time.’

‘Oh, did I forget to mention?’ Kyle happily explained as he binned the empty tin of dog food, then knelt down to wipe Claire’s face clean with a rough dishcloth, ‘I had your name legally changed: “slave” is your name now… all lower case letters, naturally.’

‘You…’ Claire stared at him in disbelief, ‘… you can’t…’ her protest caught in her throat and trailed to nothing as she realised what she was saying: of course he could have her name changed – that was the least of the things she’d given him the legal power to consent to. Heart sinking, Claire… slave… hung her head against her chest, thoughts dazed and confused at the loss of her life, her very identity. So that was it, she had nothing left of her old life except memories which seemed to be rapidly losing any significance in the harsh light of her new context. She looked to Kyle again, finding something of a solid foundation in him, in his presence, his ownership of her. However perverse it may be, she supposed that he was the constant in her life now.

‘So I’m “slave” now,’ she reiterated, as if saying the words out loud would somehow help her accept what they meant, what they represented, ‘and you’re my Master.’

‘Yes, slave,’ Kyle… Master Kyle… confirmed, laying a hand on the top of her head in an almost protective gesture, ‘welcome to the rest of your life.’ Unsure how to respond, how she felt, slave simply whispered,

‘Thank you Master.’

‘Now,’ Master Kyle asked, his hand stroking through slave’s hair in an intimate, almost loving, manner, ‘how about something to wash down your meal?’

‘Hmmm,’ slave replied, more than a little distracted as her mind swam, trying to get a handle on the events of the last twenty-four hours, the drastic changes to her life; then the question filtered through to her conscious thoughts and she realised that something to wash the wretched aftertaste of the dog food from her mouth was exactly what she wanted, at least in the moment – and that, she felt, was what she’d be best focusing on. She peered up at Master Kyle, ‘I mean: yes Master, thank you Master.’

Kyle nodded, then pantomimed a thoughtful expression,

‘But what beverage would best compliment the flavours of such a meal?’ he ask in a mocking tone, ‘what does one serve with “Rabbit and Duck in Gravy”? Red or white?’

‘Piss, more like,’ slave snorted, annoyed by his poking fun: she’d done it, hadn’t she? She’d eaten the damned dog food – wasn’t that enough for him?

‘Hot damn,’ Master Kyle spoke in an almost reverent tone, unable to prevent a huge grin spreading across his face, ‘that’s an excellent suggestion, slave!’

‘What?’ slave’s brow furrowed in confusion – she hadn’t made any “suggestion”, had she? All she’d said was… The colour drained from her face and her eyes went wide with horrified disbelief as she stared at Master Kyle once more pulling out his cock and realised the grave mistake she’d made, ‘Master Kyle,’ she pleaded, ‘No! I didn’t mean… that is to say…it wasn’t… it wasn’t meant to be a suggestion…’

Even without his reply, she knew it was too late – the idea was in his head now, and she’d have to see it through to its awful conclusion. She turned her face aside as he stepped closer, shuddered at the touch of his fingers in her hair…

‘Tilt your head back,’ Master Kyle ordered, gently grasping her hair to make sure she was conforming to his instructions, ‘open your mouth.’ Failing to see any way out of her predicament slave, reluctantly, did as she was told. Holding her head steady with one hand, Master Kyle used the other to guide his semi-erect penis to her mouth, resting the head on her lower lip. Closing her eyes, then opening them again, slave found herself swallowing involuntarily, mouth going dry as she fought back her revulsion of what was about to happen. ‘I’ll try to go slowly,’ Master Kyle explained, making it sound as if he were doing her a favour, ‘to make sure you swallow it all.’ slave nodded slightly, then held still, awaiting her latest ordeal.

As the first acrid stream of piss flowed into her mouth slave found herself coughing and spluttering, her instincts to expel the warm golden liquid hard to ignore. True to his word, Master Kyle ceased his flow, one hand still holding slave’s head still, and waited for her to calm herself enough so that she could swallow,

‘Good girl,’ he cooed as she managed the feat, ‘good slave.’ He repeated the action several times, pissing, then pausing to allow slave to swallow. Slowly she forced herself to adapt to the situation, to override her instincts and, as her technique improved, Master Kyle’s piss came in longer streams, until she was able to swallow while he allowed himself to flow freely, her throat bobbing as she chugged down his amber nectar. He let slip a contented sigh as he relaxed, and slave tried to ignore the illogical sliver of pride she felt for being able to satisfy his demand. Eventually Master Kyle’s piss stream ran dry, and he tapped his cock-head a couple of times against slave’s lower lip and teeth, to shake the last few droplets of urine into her mouth; on impulse, she flicked her tongue out to lap the tip of his cock, making sure she’d received every last drop he’d produced.

While Master Kyle’s cock was now pretty flaccid, slave was sure he’d want her to suck him off again – after all, his cock was pretty much already in her mouth – but he surprised her by letting go of her head, stepping back, and slipping his penis back into his jeans. An unwanted surge of disappointment rose in slave’s chest, but she tried to ignore it, ignore what it could mean, and instead concentrated on not explosively emptying the whole mess of dog food, piss, and cum out of her stomach. It took a while, swallowing against the spasms in her throat, forcing back the bile she tasted in her mouth, but she managed to keep everything down. After breathing heavily for a while she looked up at Master Kyle, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched her. Trying not to worry about what he could be thinking up next, slave spoke softly, finding that a slight tremor had crept into her voice,

‘Th-thank you, Master,’ she began, blushing deeply with humiliation as she failed to ignore the fact that she was addressing a guy who’s piss she’d just drank, ‘for the… the… uh… drink. I…’ she wasn’t sure how to word her next question, but tried her best not to offend him, ‘… I was wondering: Maria kindly helped clean me up today; will I be keeping myself clean in the future, or… or would it be your pleasure that I remain filthy?’

‘I figured as much,’ Master Kyle nodded slightly, ‘about Maria I mean. I talked to her about you, of course, but I guess I’ll need to work out with her how we’re going to deal with you on a day-to-day basis. After all,’ he added, with a cruel wink, ‘some of us still have lectures to attend.’ Pushing aside the hurt and rage which jumped into her gut in response to Master Kyle’s quip, slave remained silent as he continued, ‘I’ve thought up some sleeping arrangements for you, and I’ve been working on a schedule of activities you’ll complete during the day. It’s a work in progress, of course,’ he offered her a slight shrug, ‘we’ll have to see how things go. Besides,’ his crooked smile was back, along with the malicious gleam in his dark eyes, ‘I think I’ll enjoy surprising you now and then – after all, I wouldn’t want this to all get routine…’

   The sound of Master Kyle’s alarm clock woke slave – she hadn’t been ‘Claire’ for a couple of weeks now – and she waited for him to stir, grumbling, as a new day began. The cage slave slept in was kept in Master Kyle’s walk-in closet, and was too small for her to sit up or stretch out in, so she waited curled up, peering through the open closet door at the lower half of his bed – the bit within her line of sight - to see if she could spot movement beneath his sheets. There was a little more early morning grumbling, then a soft click from the electronic lock on the door of her cage as Master Kyle pressed the remote he kept by his bed: the little light switched from red to green, the door unfastened, and slave pushed it open, crawled out, and took a moment to stand, stretching the kinks out of her legs, back and arms.

‘Get in here, slave!’ Master Kyle sounded a bit the worse for wear this morning, after his late night, confirming slave’s suspicions that his waking grumbling and moaning hadn’t been a good sign. She cast a wary eye over the collection of paddles, straps, canes, and whips which now held pride of place on one wall of the closet and allowed herself a nervous shudder. So far Master Kyle had refrained from using some of the more Medieval implements he’d purchased – such as the scourge with flesh-ripping hooks in the tips of its lashes – and slave was pretty confident that he didn’t actually want to permanently mark or disfigure her… at least, not yet… but the threat was always there and besides, the ‘lesser’ implements were quite painful enough. Dressed in nothing but the omnipresent dog’s collar padlocked around her neck as a constant reminder of what she’d signed away, slave quickly trotted into the Master’s bedroom.

She found Master Kyle sitting, naked, on the side of his bed, looking about as bad as he sounded. Last night it had been okay – he’d been too drunk to bother with slave when he rolled in from a night out with his friends; in fact, she’d even had to lock herself in her cage after helping him to bed. But this morning, she doubted things would go well for her; still, she tried to stay light-hearted,

‘Good morning Master,’ she chirped, a playful smile on her lips, ‘I trust you had an enjoyable evening?’

Master Kyle glanced up at her and snarled,

‘I think my head’s going to explode…’

‘Well,’ slave shrugged, placing her hands on her hips, ‘I guess that’s what you get for drinking too much, Master. Just how much did you consume anyway?’

‘Cheeky bitch,’ Master Kyle muttered as he stood, a little uncertainly, steadied himself with a heavy hand on slave’s shoulder, then pushed her too her knees. Resting a hand on either of her shoulders, he peered down at her and managed a nasty smile, ‘why don’t you find out for yourself: I need to piss.’

Trying to ignore the sinking feeling which struck her, slave sighed and nodded, taking his cock between her fingers and holding it aimed into her open mouth. Master Kyle didn’t use her like that every morning, but he did it enough that she was resigned to the fact, even if she still hated it. His stream came hot and warm this morning, and slave had to concentrate to gulp it all down without spilling any: Master Kyle moaned again, this time in a satisfied, relieved, tone, and his hands began to massage her shoulders and he emptied his bladder. When the stream finally slowed, then stopped, slave tapped Master Kyle’s cock a couple of times, shaking the last couple of drops into her mouth, and finished off with a quick tongue-lapping of the tip of his penis. Licking her lips, she let go of his cock and looked up at him, forcing a smile,

‘Better?’ she asked. He nodded and gave a rather non-committal grunt, then headed towards the bathroom: slave stood and dutifully followed. They showered together, slave soaping and sponging down Master Kyle’s body, although he preferred she use her lips and tongue on some of his more intimate areas. He’d tried, once, to get her to give him a tongue-bath head-to-toe, but had gotten bored after a while and just fucked her instead. This morning he didn’t seem in the mood for fucking, although he appeared to be greatly refreshed after his shower. After slave towelled him dry, Master Kyle used the toilet… the porcelain one… to crap in whilst slave dried herself off. To her relief he decided to flush it after he was done: while Master Kyle stepped to the sink to brush his teeth, slave kneeled by the toilet to do the same. A small pot next to the toilet’s pedestal held her toothpaste and toothbrush – Master Kyle liked to refer to it as her ‘toilet brush’ – and she had to use the water from the toilet bowl to brush, rinse, and spit; which was okay, except on days when the Master chose not to flush before she brushed. She used the toilet in a more usual fashion as Master Kyle shaved with his old-style cut-throat razor. He’d mentioned something about wanting to teach her to shave him, but so far it didn’t seem he quite trusted her not to slit his throat… and there were times when slave wasn’t always sure that she wouldn’t do just that, given half a chance.

Back in the bedroom, slave helped Master Kyle dress. As she buttoned up his shirt he cracked a smile, grabbed and fondled her breasts until her nipples were hard (it seemed he loved doing that; slave tried not to let it distract her too much from her task at hand), and said,

‘Don’t forget the guys are coming round tonight.’

‘Of course not, Master’ slave nodded, a blush flushing her cheeks: the night of the ill-fated poker game seemed like a lifetime ago, and she’d not seem the others since – she was terrified what they’d think about what she’d become, and more than a little concerned whether Master Kyle was planning on making good on his promise to let Shaun, and others, use her. She was certain that the Master was planning something special for her – he kept getting that evil twinkle in his eyes when he mentioned the evening – but couldn’t, for the life of her, imagine what it was going to be. She’d asked, of course, but he’d been all cryptic… and whipped her breasts with a split-tongued leather tawse strap (although she was still uncertain whether that had been because she’d asked, or just because he’d felt like doing it: either way, she’d not risked asking again).

Master Kyle clipped slave’s leash on her collar to lead her down to breakfast: slave could smell the delicious aroma of freshly cooked pancakes as they approached the kitchen and knew Maria was been hard at work. Sure enough the Master’s Hispanic maid was there to greet them, dropping a neat curtsy to Master Kyle and offering slave a friendly smile. Maria served pancakes to Master Kyle while slave knelt by his chair and waited; once he’d finished he stood, handed slave a piece of dried toast, and pulled his cock out of his pants. Stomach growling at the thought of the fresh pancakes it didn’t look like she’d be getting, slave set to work sucking, licking, and hand-pumping Master Kyle’s cock, until he was ready to ejaculate: quickly she caught his cum on the toast, spreading it all over, before licking the Master’s cock clean. As he put his penis away, slave munched away at her warm-cum-on-toast breakfast,

‘Thank you, Master,’ she intoned dutifully as she swallowed the last of it and licked her fingers. Master Kyle was already packing his things for the day’s lectures, and merely spared her a distracted glance,

‘Sure,’ he murmured, ‘no problem.’

Once the Master had left, slave let herself indulge in a deep sigh, then glanced hopefully up at Maria: she still wasn’t sure of the exact relationship between Master Kyle and Maria, except that the maid seemed both loyal to, and fond of, him. On the one hand, she’d yet to see Master Kyle make any sexual advances towards Maria, on the other, he seemed perfectly happy to cum on slave’s breakfast in front of the woman.

‘Any chance?’ she asked, hopefully, nodding towards the remaining pancakes. Maria gave one of her friendly, sympathetic, smiles,

‘You know the rules,’ she replied; slave grimaced and sighed: if she wanted the leftovers, she had to have them mashed up in a bowl of dog food. Still, she was hungry…

‘Do I get syrup on top?’ she asked, a slight pleading tone in her voice. Maria shot a nervous look at the door, as if Master Kyle was about to burst in and catch her stealing the silver or something, then gave a quick nod,

‘Okay then,’ she agreed, proceeding to mash up the delicious pancakes and horrendous dog food in slave’s doggie-bowl before drizzling a generous portion of maple syrup over the lot and placing it on the kitchen floor, ‘but it best be our little secret.’

‘Of course,’ slave agreed, crawling to the bowl, lowering her face to it, and tucking in, adding through a syrupy mouthful of breakfast mush, ‘you’re the best, Maria.’

  After breakfast, Maria went about her chores, and slave walked to the living room to go through her morning yoga routine. As usual, she paused in the corridor where her signed slave contract was framed and hung – the lipstick kiss she’d marked it with seeming to taunt her every time she walked passed the thing. A couple of workmen Master Kyle had employed to do mysterious alterations to the house were waiting in the living room when slave arrived, apparently on a break. When they’d first arrived and spotted her doing nude yoga, they’d tried to be subtle about spying on her; she’d been so embarrassed about being watched that she’d pleaded with Master Kyle to allow her to workout in one of the upstairs rooms instead, hidden from view; but it had backfired and he’d insisted that she perform in the living room, workmen or no workmen. The next day they’d openly watched her from the doorway, and she suspected that Master Kyle had given them leave to do so. Now they pulled up chairs, sat, watched, commented, teased, and joked as she went though her exercises. She was still embarrassed, but managed to put a brave face on it, greeting them with a smile as she entered the room,

‘Hello boys,’ she offered, fetching her exercise mat form the corner of the room and making a start of it. The workmen returned her greeting with a few friendly, if lewd, comments, then settled down to watch the show. Unsure of what Master Kyle had told them about her, slave hadn’t bothered to correct the workmen when they’d pegged her as ‘one of those naturist, hippy, chicks’. She couldn’t begin to guess what they thought on days when she still sported stripes from one of Master Kyle’s whippings, but they didn’t seem too concerned as long as she didn’t make a fuss about them.

Workout finished, slave blew the workmen a cheeky kiss as she exited, then went to find Maria. The maid was making up one of the guest bedrooms when slave entered, so she waited until she’d finished before asking,

‘Anything for me yet?’

‘Yes,’ Maria nodded, a sad look in her eyes as she added, ‘sorry,’ and showed slave the text Kyle had sent her on her mobile phone: ‘Crop: 6x butt, 6x per tit, 6x cunt’. It was a lot, but Master Kyle’s whims were hard to predict, and slave hated to make things tougher on Maria than they already were. Nodding, and forcing a smile, she told the maid,

‘Ouch. I’ll go get the crop.’

True to her word slave returned to the Master’s bedroom, stepped into the closet, and scanned the mounted tools of discipline for the riding crop Master Kyle’s message had referred to. Gingerly taking it down she gave it a couple of testing bends, slapped the tip into the palm of her hand, and winced: she really wasn’t looking forward to this, but she knew that refusal to comply would go badly for her, and cause Maria undue worrying. Carrying the crop to the maid she proffered it over with a certain reverent awe, then blushed and looked to one side,

‘You’d…’ she murmured softly, ‘… I think you’d better make then hard strokes,’ she reluctantly suggested, adding, ‘he was in a bad mood this morning, and I’m guessing he’ll want to see me with stripes when he gets back.’

Taking the crop with almost as much reluctance as slave had handed it over, Maria nodded solemnly,

‘Alright,’ she agreed, ‘I am sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ slave managed a constricted laugh, ‘I’d rather it be you than one of those burly workmen downstairs…’

Nodding once more Maria gestured towards the bed; slave kneeled and bent forward over it,

‘Would you like restraints?’ Maria asked, her tone a kindly one; slave replied with a tight-lipped shake of her head, ‘okay then,’ Maria continued, stepping close and placing one hand on slave’s back, ‘could you count please?’

The first stroke blazed hot pain across slave’s buttocks a moment later and, through gritted teeth, she hissed out the count,

‘One!’

Maria continued the whipping, slave counting out the blows as they landed: two, three… all the way to six. By four slave had tears in her eyes, but it wasn’t until she’d stood, hands behind her head, legs apart, for Maria to whip first her breasts, then up between her legs, that slave was reduced to howling cries of pain through sobbing tears, barely able to choke out the count to six on each body part. Panting heavily, tears running freely down her cheeks, slave fell to her knees, thighs squeezed together, hands rubbing abused breasts, as soon as the last blow had fallen. Recovering a little she managed to glance up at Maria, who was still holding the crop, turning it nervously in her hands and looking embarrassed.

‘What’s wrong?’ slave asked her, concerned. It looked like it took Maria an effort of will to answer, but she eventually came out with it,

‘You… ah…’ she struggled, ‘… you missed the count on the last two swings. I… I could let it go…’ she hastened to add. Wearily, snarling, slave shook head, forced herself back to her feet, legs wide apart, hands behind her head, and asked,

‘From five?’

Maria nodded, and slave called out the fifth and six shots from the crop as it lashed agonisingly at her poor, swollen, clean-shaven pussy. This time she held her pose after the last shot, sniffed back tears, and asked,

‘Was that okay?’

‘Oh yes!’ Maria nodded quickly, passing the crop back to slave as if it were on fire, tears of her own in her dark eyes. Taking the implement from the maid, slave gave her a heartfelt hug, trying to ignore the renewed surge of pain which shot through her breasts as she squeezed the other woman close,

‘Hey there,’ she cooed to Maria, ‘it’s okay – you did great. I’m… I’m sorry I messed up; I know you don’t like doing that, any more that I like taking it. You know I’d never blame you, don’t you? You’re the instrument he uses to punish me, as much as the damned riding crop is, and that’s the way he likes it – he told me so himself. If you ask him, I’m sure he’ll find someone else to be his proxy.’

‘No,’ Maria pushed out of the hug and wiped her eyes with a clean handkerchief, before wiping slave’s for her as well, ‘if he insists it’s done, I guess I’d rather it be by me than by someone who might not care about you like I do.’

Smiling, despite the pain throbbing across her tormented flesh, slave replied,

‘You’re a good friend, Maria – the best. I… I really don’t think I’d be able to cope with all this without you.’

‘Oh, go have your bath,’ Maria chided, turning aside to hide her embarrassed blush, ‘some of us have real work to get on with.’

  The hot, aromatic oil-scented, bath was luxury itself, and slave wallowed in it for a long time, letting the heat soak the aches from her harshly treated body, before stepping out, drying off, and applying her make-up. Stepping into the black suede stiletto-heeled shoes Master Kyle had left out for her (just the shoes were there, so she guessed that was all he wanted her wearing: he’d purchased a wide selection of dubious and downright uncomfortable fetish-wear to dress her in, and she’d tried some of it on at his behest, but generally he seemed to prefer her nude most of the time) she headed back down stairs to make coffee for Maria and the workmen. It crossed slave’s mind that, if she’d learned anything these last couple of weeks, it was how to walk well in impractically high heels. In many ways, she mused as she put the freshly ground coffee on, Master Kyle had the same fantasies as most other guys – high-heels made a girl’s legs look good, forced her butt to roll provocatively as she walked, and prompted her to arch her back and thrust out her tits: so with a nude girl in high-heels, what wasn’t there to like? Putting the workmen’s coffees on a tray she headed through the house to where they were doing the alterations to the downstairs bathroom. She’d not been allowed to see inside, at Master Kyle’s instructions, but had seen them remove the old toilet and was getting more than a little curious… and worried… about what was going on. Today it looked like whatever they were doing, it was nearly complete, as they seemed to be packing up their tools, and cleaning up the mess they’d made. They offered the usual wolf-whistles and suggestive comments as slave approached, but she smiled and tried to be friendly, despite her usual blush and the added embarrassment of the fresh crop-marks across her most intimate areas. As they drank their coffees with satisfied sighs, and she waited for the empties, slave found herself wandering if, at this point, they actually appreciated the coffee more than the sight of her nude body – surely any thrill they got from her standing there exposed to them must fade eventually? In any case, she liked to make an effort at conversation, and made small talk about the weather, local sports teams, and current events in the media as she waited. Despite her status, slave had found that Master Kyle showed no desire to keep her ignorant: she usually got to read the newspaper if she had time to spare in the afternoon and, although Master Kyle didn’t watch much television, she’d get to at least hear it if she was sucking him off as he did so, or even see some on those occasions when he preferred to give her a hand-spanking over his lap while he watched. In fact, he seemed to quite enjoy conversing with her about politics, global events, and the economy, and even seemed to value and encourage her opinions; the fact he’d often just ass-fucked her or whipped her tits a short while before hand didn’t seem to phase him in the least. She guessed it was like he’d told her: he wanted a slave, not a zombie… or a simple fuck-doll like Shaun was after.

Leaving the workmen, slave returned to the kitchen to find Maria sipping her coffee and, at Maria’s offer, poured herself a cup and joined her at the table. Neither of them knew exactly what Master Kyle would think if he knew that they often took coffee in such a friendly, normal (despite slave’s state of undress and her whip-marked skin), manner, but they both seemed to enjoy the company, and the moment of calm in the craziness which made up most of the rest of the time in Master Kyle’s house. It was in one of those quiet moments over coffee that slave had first really found herself bonding with Maria: a couple of days after the workmen had arrived, slave had been in tears, head in her hands on the table, bemoaning her lot in life, and Maria had tried to offer her some sympathy. With the unfair targeting which came with strong emotions, slave had lashed out at the maid,

‘What the Hell do you know about it?!’ she’d yelled, ‘My life is constant humiliation! You could never understand!’

Maria had sat very quiet for several long moments, before bowing her head to fix her gaze at her cup of coffee as she’d began, her voice trembling and soft,

‘I told you that I took care of my grandfather for five years, from age thirteen,’ she’d said, and slave had fallen silent at the solemn tone in Maria’s voice as she’d taken a deep breath and continued, ‘what I didn’t tell you… what I’ve never told anyone… was that when I first started to nurse him he’d get agitated, start to scream and yell, and just wouldn’t be able to sleep. I’d lie in my bed in the next room, trying to block out his cries with a pillow, crying myself to a fitful sleep as my heart broke that I couldn’t stop his pain. His mind had slipped away, you see, and he seemed haunted by all sorts of demons.’ Maria had paused, a faraway look in her eyes as she’d recalled the traumatic events, then she’d pressed on,

‘When he got in that state, he usually got… stiff,’ she’d flicked a look at slave then, obviously not comfortable with what she’d been revealing, but had managed to carry on, ‘and one of the things he’d yell was a demand to have his… his cock sucked…’ she’d blushed then, taking a long sip of coffee, and been unable to meet slave’s gaze as she’d continued,

‘It had been almost a month. I was at my wit’s end. My grandfather had been left in my care, and I’d failed him – he was so lost, so frightened, so unhappy… I’d not slept properly myself since I’d arrived and…’ she’d paused again to swallow and wipe away building tears before she’d pressed on, ‘… so, when I was sponging him clean, I grabbed his cock, screamed at him, “Okay!”, and tried sucking it.’ Maria had fallen silent then so, after a long pause, slave had gently prompted her to continue the tale,

‘So what happened?’ she’d asked, quietly, trying to sound respectful, but feeling a morbid curiosity building within her, demanding to hear the end of the story. Maria had sighed, shaken her head then, to slave’s surprise, had smiled,

‘It was amazing,’ she’d admitted, ‘he calmed down. I didn’t know what I was doing of course – I was a good Catholic girl, I’d never even had a boyfriend. But as long as I sucked his cock he was calm. When he came that first time I didn’t know what had happened!’ she’d laughed a little then, at the memory of her own naivety, ‘I swallowed – the idea that I didn’t have to never occurred to me – and was so scared that I’d hurt him in some way. But he wasn’t hurt and, for the first time, he slept like a baby. After that, I started to suck him off every day. He’d murmur names I’d never heard before as I did it and, by trial and error, I slowly figured out what he seemed to like best, how to massage his shaft, how to use my tongue… The family were impressed by how happy the old man seemed, never guessing what I was doing to cause it, until…’ she’d paused again, the grip on her coffee mug tightening with remembered anger, ‘… until one day, about a year later. I was fourteen by then: I’d sucked my grandfather off, made sure he was sleeping comfortably, and got up to leave, only to find one of my cousins standing in the doorway, a look of disgust on his face…’ she’d sneered a little then, and had added, ‘… and an erection in his pants. He was a couple of years older than me. We stepped out of my grandfather’s room, and my cousin started accusing me of being a whore, of doing unspeakable things to the old man, of bringing unforgivable shame on the family: I broke down in floods of tears, of course, begging forgiveness, begging his silence. He agreed but, as you may guess, he demanded his price…’

‘Guys are so predictable,’ slave had muttered in response, and the two of them had shared a knowing smile before Maria nodded,

‘You guessed it,’ she’d confirmed, ‘he wanted what my grandfather was getting, and I was so scared I dared not refuse. So, at fourteen, I started to suck off my cousin. He came round every day after that and, whilst he was being praised for being a dutiful grandson, visiting the old man so often, I was on my knees with his cock between my lips. He thought he was such the big man to use me like that, loved that I always swallowed…’ she’d sighed then and shook her head, ‘… I hated him, but what could I do? A few months later he brought his older brother with him, and I had to give them both blowjobs. Things went downhill from there, with more and more cousins, a couple of uncles, and a few “friends of the family” getting in on the act. They started to call me “Maria the mouth” – the rest of the family thought it was a cute nickname, because I was always so quiet, but I’d feel that stab of humiliation and anger every time someone called me that, see the knowing, filthy, leers in the faces of those who knew… By the time I attended my sister’s wedding when I was seventeen I had to spend most of the reception on my knees in my bridesmaid’s dress – I think I sucked off a dozen cousins, two uncles, and a few other guys that day. My mother chided me for looking so miserable in the wedding photos.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ slave had murmured, horrified by the abuse Maria had suffered, but the maid had shaken her head,

‘That’s not really the point I was trying to make,’ she’d said, holding slave’s hands between her own, and looking her in the eyes, ‘my grandfather died when I was eighteen: I sucked him off, as usual, and he whispered my name, told me that I was a good granddaughter, that he loved me, and that I’d made an old man’s last few years happy ones. He then kissed me on the forehead, and passed away in my arms. I’d always thought that he’d been unaware of what I was doing… or, at least, unaware where he was, or who I was. It sounds crazy, but I found his words so beautiful. I loved that old man so much…’

‘No,’ slave had murmured, ‘that doesn’t sound crazy at all, not to me.’ Maria had smiled then, shrugged, and finished her coffee,

‘I left right after the funeral, coming to America to join my parents working for señor Kyle’s family. So,’ she’d concluded, ‘I do know a little about living with humiliation. I also know a little about humbly serving someone you love. What you have to decide, señorita, is whether you truly resent señor Kyle, or whether you love him.’

‘I…’ slave had began, before trailing off as she realised that she honestly didn’t know the answer. After mulling Maria’s words over for a long time, she finally replied, ‘… I don’t know, Maria. Sometimes I think I could… love him I mean… but other times he’s such a…’

‘A bastard?’ Maria had offered helpfully; slave had smiled,

‘Exactly,’ she’d agreed.

‘That,’ Maria had observed, sagely, ‘just makes him a man.’ They’d both laughed then, and slave had sighed deeply,

‘Thank you, Maria,’ she’d said honestly, ‘you’ve given me a great deal to think about.’

It had been the day after that when slave had decided to try to stop feeling so sorry for herself, and had started making an effort to be friendly to the workmen.

  After coffee: slave helped Maria with the rest of her chores. Master Kyle hadn’t been too specific on what she was meant to do and not do every minute when he wasn’t around, and she liked Maria’s company, feeling almost normal as she worked and chatted with her. Due to Master Kyle’s standing orders, Maria could receive a call or text at any time with instructions on what slave was to do, or have done to her; but the rest of the day passed without the phone ringing, and slave helped Maria prepare snacks and beers for Master Kyle’s evening guests, before seeing the maid off with a fond farewell. Before she left for the day Maria buckled slave’s chain-linked leather cuffs behind her back, attached the collar’s leash, and left her kneeling by the front door in anticipation of Master Kyle’s return.

‘Good evening, Master,’ slave greeted Master Kyle as he walked in, an hour or so later. He seemed excited to her, and perhaps a little nervous – which was unusual – she guessed he was keen for whatever he’d planned for his visitors to go down well. Closing the door behind him and stepping over to her, Master Kyle placed his masculine hands on slave’s shoulders and guided her to her feet; then, to slave’s utter amazement, he kissed her – deeply and passionately – on the lips. For a few moments she was too shocked to react, but then she melted into the all-too-welcomed kiss, the first he’d ever given her, her body pressing close to his, her need for him surging in her belly. All too soon his broke the kiss, leaving slave, for a moment, eyes closed, gasping at the air. Master Kyle laughed, then slapped her hard on the bottom, causing her to jump,

‘Thought I better do that now,’ he quipped cryptically, ‘in case I’ve not got the stomach for it after tonight.’

Feeling the colour drain from her face as trepidation rose in her chest, slave opened her mouth to ask what he meant, then thought better of it: she supposed that she’d learn what his plans were soon enough, one way or another, and it was unlikely she’d be able to talk him out of anything he was going to do to her anyway. Taking hold of her leash, Master Kyle led slave through the house to the downstairs toilet – the one were all the mysterious work had been done. Pushing open the door he led slave inside. Peering around she wasn’t sure if she felt disappointment or relief: the pedestal toilet had been replaced with a new squat toilet – one of those things you found in other countries, slave recalled, a sort of porcelain tray flush with the ground which you had to squat over, rather than sit on, to use – but apart from that the room looked normal, with tiled floors and walls, a sink, a towel rack… suddenly noticing something unusual, slave peered more closely at the new toilet: basically a glorified hole in the ground which flushed, she mused to herself, but there were heavy metal rings set into the floor – one either side of where your feet went, and one behind the thing, and another ring set a little way up the wall behind the toilet. Glancing at Master Kyle, slave noted that he was looking at the new plumbing with a pleased expression.

‘Try it out,’ Master Kyle gestured towards the toilet; slave hesitated, then shrugged and stepped over – it wasn’t like he didn’t see her use the bathroom every morning, after all. Placing one foot either side she squatted down – the high-heels and her bound wrists made it a little harder to balance, but she managed without too much difficulty.

‘I don’t really need to go right now,’ she explained to Master Kyle, then added, not knowing what else to say, ‘but it… er… it seems fine.’

Master Kyle grinned,

‘Stay right there,’ he ordered, leaving the room. Obediently squatting in place, slave glanced around again, noting how two of the metal rings in the floor were positioned next to her ankles, with the third behind her where her wrists were held. The ring in the wall seemed to be about as high as her neck was in her current position. Master Kyle returned presently, a couple of additional leather cuffs and chains in his hand. As slave watched, squatting in silence, he knelt down, buckling one cuff to each of her ankles, and fastening them to the two rings on either side of the toilet. Next he unfastened her wrist cuffs, slipped them through the ring on the floor behind her, and reattached them to her wrists. Finally he unclipped the leash from her collar, and clipped a short length of chain to the back instead, fastening it to the ring set into the wall. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest, admiring his handiwork; slave struggled a little to test the bindings, finding that she was fixed pretty much in the squatting position, with very little range of movement.

‘Excellent,’ Master Kyle declared, stepping forward again, pulling out his cock, ‘now – I need to piss.’

‘You do know I’m squatting over what appears to be a perfectly functional new toilet?’ slave asked him with a healthy dose of sarcasm. Master Kyle grinned,

‘That’s for you, slave,’ he explained, ‘you’re for me.’

Resigned, telling herself it was no worse than she’d had to do before, slave opened her mouth below his proffered penis and drank down his warm stream of piss. Tapping to finish, Master Kyle put his cock away again and stepped back.

‘Tonight,’ he explained, ‘I’m locking all the other toilets in the house: you’re to be the only one, for me, and for my guests.’

Eyes widening as her heart began to race, slave shook her head,

‘Y-you mean my friends?’ she asked, rising panic in her voice, ‘you want me to…’

‘Yes,’ Master Kyle nodded, ‘Jasmine and Sarah, as well as Donny and Shaun. I’m sure they’ll all enjoy meeting you again.’ A cruel smirk spreading across his face, Master Kyle turned out the light, left the room, and closed the door, plunging slave into darkness, where she waited, contemplating her utter humiliation.

It was at least a couple of hours before the door was opened again. During that time slave had worked her muscles as best she could, trying to prevent them cramping up – her calves where killing her as she squatted in the high-heels, and it was hard to relieve the pressure. She also pissed at one point – it smelled a little, but flushed away automatically. She strained to hear when the guests arrived, but couldn’t make much out through the closed door. Finally Jasmine had entered, looking elegant in a fine evening dress of red satin, and glancing behind her to laugh at some joke as she did so, before turning on the light – slave squinted against the sudden brightness – and closing the door behind her. Seeing slave squatting before her Jasmine jumped, then smiled,

‘Sorry,’ she began, ‘I didn’t know it was occupied, I…’ she trailed off as she took in slave’s bindings. Hurrying over she knelt down to give slave a hug,

‘Claire,’ she spoke in a concerned whisper, ‘Kyle said you were “around somewhere” but I didn’t think he meant anything like this! What’s going on? How have you been? I’ve been so worried about you…’

The presence and words of her old friend brought slave to instant tears,

‘Oh, Jasmine,’ she sobbed, ‘it’s horrible. He fucks me, whips me, keeps me tied up… I’m made to eat dog food from a bowl on the floor – or worse – and now… now…’ she trailed off into a fit of tears. Jasmine held slave’s head on her shoulder and cooed softly,

‘There, there, baby – it’ll be all right. Let it all out, tell me why you’re in here.’

Managing to control her tears, slave nodded, face flushed with shame,

‘He…’ she began with difficulty, ‘he means for me to be your toilet. He said that the others in the house are locked, and that you’re to use me… my mouth… instead…’

‘That’s disgusting!’ Jasmine declared, ‘He’s such a bastard, that Kyle. You poor baby, I’m so sorry for what you’re going through, it must be awful.’ Once more, slave nodded. Jasmine hugged her again, then stood, ‘I can’t imagine what it’s like for you,’ she offered, sympathetically, shaking her head as she tried to contemplate the horror which was slave’s life. Breathing a little easier thanks to her friend’s kindness, slave blinked tears from her eyes… then frowned when she saw that Jasmine had slipped off her panties and was hitching up her skirt!

‘W-what…’ slave stammered, ‘… what are you doing?’

‘Oh, honey,’ Jasmine replied apologetically as she stepped over to straddle slave’s face, ‘I’m sorry – but I’m really busting here, and you said yourself that you were the only toilet we had to use tonight.’

‘B-but…’ slave uttered, eyes wide with disbelief – surely Jasmine, of all people, wouldn’t do this to her?

‘No “buts”, honey,’ Jasmine replied, a little more forcefully, ‘this was your choice – you signed those papers, we all witnessed them. Now, I suggest you open wide and make sure you swallow everything – I doubt your Master will be very happy if you make a mess.’

Feeling tears sting her eyes again, slave had no choice but to comply, parting her lips and gulping down her friend’s piss as Jasmine used her as a toilet. Soon the warm stream dribbled to a halt; Jasmine held her position for a moment,

‘Just clean that up, honey,’ she ordered, softly. Snarling, feeling betrayed to the core of her being, slave reached up her tongue and lapped her friend clean. Stepping back, Jasmine retrieved her panties and smoothed down her dress, ‘Thanks, Claire,’ she offered, walking towards the door.

‘My name’s not “Claire” anymore,’ slave retorted, as Jasmine shut off the light, exited the room, and shut her back into darkness, ‘it’s “slave”…’

  Sarah entered a while later, clad in a short blue silk number, her reaction on seeing slave quite different from Jasmine’s. She grinned and clapped her hands together like a little girl,

‘Claire!’ she exclaimed, ‘There you are! Ooh…’ she added as she stepped over, ‘… and you’re all tied up! Looks good on you, girl,’ she observed with a mischievous wink, then asked, ‘what’s the game?’

Anger and humiliation battled within slave, but she gritted her teeth reasoning it was best to just get it all over with,

‘Master Kyle has legally changed my name to “slave”, not “Claire”,’ she began, ‘so you can call me that. Tonight he wants me to serve you all as your toilet – I’m bound here so that you can piss in my mouth, okay?’

‘Okay!’ Sarah chirped happily, ‘no need to be so bitter about it.’ She stepped over, heels clicking over the tiles, and pulled up her dress (revealing she hadn’t bothered with panties). Pausing, she looked thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged, ‘I need to shit first,’ she declared, turning round and presenting her arse to slave’s face. Recoiling, slave wrinkled her nose,

‘I’m not…’ she began, desperate to find the words, ‘… I mean I’ve never… Master Kyle just uses me to piss in.’

‘Can’t help that,’ Sarah shrugged, still bent over, ‘Master Kyle’s not here, I need to shit, and you’re the designated shitter; so open your mouth, get in there, and enjoy your meal, slave!’ Without further ado, she backed up, pressing slave’s face between her butt cheeks. Disgusted, fighting to not vomit, slave reluctantly pressed her lips to Sarah’s anus. Not really knowing what else to do, she tried lapping at the bud with her tongue; Sarah let out a soft moan of pleasure, as slave tried not to gag on the earthy taste. Sarah grunted, and slave felt the anus expanding as her friend began to defecate. For all she wanted to recoil, slave found the back of her head pressed against the tiled wall – she had nowhere to go. Fighting all her natural instincts, she closed her eyes tightly, wrinkled her nose, and opened her mouth wide, pressing her lips tight to Sarah’s anus to receive her friend’s shit. It slid, slick, between her lips, onto her tongue, and it took all slave’s control not to gag, splutter, and choke. Steeling her nerves, she forced herself to swallow, feeling Sarah’s faeces sliding down her throat in disgusting wet lumps. To her further dismay, slave found that to help the process along, she had to lap at Sarah’s back passage, scooping out shit with her tongue. It seemed to take forever, but eventually Sarah expelled her last, with a blast of miasmic fart – slave dutifully gobbled it all down, licking her own lips, and Sarah’s ass clean. Hanging her head as Sarah stepped away, slave tried to generate more saliva in her mouth, tried to flush out the taste, even as she swallowed repeatedly to stop the whole mess coming straight back up. Sarah wasn’t finished, of course, and slave’s head was harshly yanked up by her hair to face her friend’s pussy.

‘Best wash that down,’ Sarah giggled; slave almost didn’t have time to open her mouth before the little redhead let forth with a stream of piss, but – to her eternal shame – she gulped it down greedily, glad for the familiar taste of urine to wash away the aftertaste of shit. When she’d finished, Sarah stepped back, took a couple of sheets of toilet paper from a nearby roll, wiped her own pussy and ass, then wiped around slave’s lips and mouth, cleaning off any overspill which had occurred. Stooping to drop the paper into the squat toilet between slave’s feet, she paused, shrugged, then instead pushed it into slave’s mouth. Rage barely held in check, slave fixed Sarah with an angry glare as she chewed the soiled toilet paper, and swallowed,

‘Satisfied?’ slave spat the word like an accusation. Sarah looked thoughtful,

‘Not bad,’ she replied, ‘could be better. I’ll recommend you get in a lot of practice, okay?’

Before slave could answer, Sarah skipped to the door,

‘Shaun’s going to love this,’ she declared, ‘I can’t wait to tell him!’

  It was little surprise to slave when Shaun followed hot on Sarah’s trail. He burst into the room, huge grin on his brutish face, already pulling his stubby-looking cock out of the pants of his tuxedo, and stroking it to its rather thick stiffness. Presenting himself in front of slave he thrust out his cock,

‘Suck it, bitch!’ he ordered; slave turned her head aside and snarled – who the Hell did he think he was? Overcome by a sudden urge to want to never satisfy this pig of a man, she shook her head,

‘No,’ she stated flat out, ‘your cock doesn’t get into my mouth, unless it’s to use it as a toilet. Those are Master Kyle’s instructions – nothing about offering blowjobs to every brain-dead steroid freak who storms in here all bluster and no balls.’

‘Bitch!’ Shaun was livid, and slave was sure she’d gone too far. He slapped her, hard, with an open hand across her face, and she tasted blood. Instinctively checking over her gums and teeth with her tongue, searching for evidence of damage, slave winced as Shaun placed one meaty fist in her hair and wrenched her head round to face his cock – which he was furiously masturbating with his other hand. A few moments later and a stream of hot cum splattered over slave’s face, catching her in the eye, and across her slapped cheek and mouth, to dribble off her chin. A second spurt splashed across her forehead, some splattering in her hair, and ran down her nose. Another couple of final spurts he aimed at her tits, to foul her chest, and drip slowly down her cleavage. Spent, he wiped his dick in her honey blonde hair then, still holding it as it rapidly softened, held it up to her mouth,

‘Okay, bitch,’ he sneered, ‘now I’m ready to use you as a toilet.’

Contemplating seeing if she could bite the end off his cock, slave decided that probably wouldn’t go well for her and, swearing at him, opened her mouth to receive his piss. Just when she thought he couldn’t be any more of a crude bastard, he made sure to spray everywhere – she drank what she could, but he pissed over her face, in her hair, down her back, across her chest. Dripping with cum and piss, seething at the brute who’d done it to her, slave watched, jaw clenched tight as he dropped his pants, turned, and trust his arse at her face,

‘Eat shit and die, whore!’ he snarled, not waiting for slave to even try to open her mouth as he defecated, smearing faeces over her face, as well as in her mouth. Not sure why, maybe just to try to beat this guy on some level, to do the task her Master had assigned her, slave still swallowed down as much of his shit as she could. Finishing, Shaun wiped with a handful of wadded paper, then stuffed it all into slave’s mouth at once, nearly choking her. Pulling up his pants, he spat on her before striding from the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Feeling tears well in her eyes as her rage subsided, slave tried to chew and swallow the paper dangling from her mouth, but choked and gagged, and was forced to cough it onto the floor in front of her. She knew it was stupid, but her failure to eat the stuff was the final straw – she felt not only used and abused, but an utter failure. Slumping in her restraints, she sobbed quietly to herself in the dark.

  When the light came on again slave refused to look up – what was the point? She felt numb, pointless – no longer caring what anyone did to her, happy if they just left her to die in filth.

‘Shaun, you ass’ it was Donny’s muttered voice – slave didn’t care, he’d take his turn with her, she’d let him… what was the point of it all? It was only when she felt a warm, damp, cloth wiping her face that she finally looked up. Donny was frowning, his expression one of concern, as he washed the filth from slave’s face. Not speaking he washed her down, rinsing out the cloth several times, flicking the toilet paper she’d failed to swallow into the squat toilet between her feet and letting it flush away. Using several cups of warm water, he washed out her hair, cleaned off her back, her chest, then proceeded to mop up the mess on the floor around her with handfuls of wadded toilet paper, which he also flushed away. Checking over his work, the tuxedo-clad Asian man shook his head sadly, then rose to leave.

‘Why?’ slave called out, stopping him before he reached the door. Donny turned, face still a solemn mask,

‘Shaun’s an ass,’ he explained, ‘like Kyle said a while back – he always breaks his toys.’

‘No,’ slave shook her head, that wasn’t what she’d been asking, ‘I mean: why set me up to be enslaved? Master Kyle told me the night of the poker game that it was your idea. I… I liked you Donny, why’d you want to do this to me?’

‘I didn’t,’ Donny stated, any emotions he felt still well hidden, ‘that is to say: I didn’t want to do it to you specifically. The opportunity arose, it didn’t seem likely to come up again, so I took it. I was interested to see how it’d play out, so see if theory and practice would match. In any case, I knew Kyle would be keen, and he’s got a very influential family in the circles I’m aiming to move in. Something like this… like you’ he corrected himself, a hint of emotion finally flickering in his eyes, although slave couldn’t identify it, ‘isn’t going to be forgotten. I suppose it’d be true to say I stepped on you on my way up the ladder. I’d apologise, but that’s just the way things work… at least it is when you’re a winner. The rest of you, of course, have to be losers – but that’s just the nature of the beast. Nothing personal.’

‘Nothing…’ slave shook her head in disbelief. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but that… that impersonal bullshit… was worse than anything she’d imagined. Not only was she the lowest of the low, she wasn’t even special because of it: just another loser used and tossed aside by some evil little cog in the corporate machine, like so many others. She wasn’t going to leave it at that!

‘Wait,’ she called, ‘don’t you need to use the facilities? That is why you came in here, right?’

Donny paused, then frowned,

‘Yes,’ he replied, sounding, for the first time, a little uncertain, ‘but this whole “human toilet” deal…’ he gestured towards slave, ‘… it’s not really my scene.’ He looked around, then shrugged, ‘I’ll just piss in the sink and get out of your way,’ he suggested.

‘No!’ slave exclaimed more forcefully than she’d meant to; lowering her voice, she continued, ‘no – please. Use me. Piss in my mouth, shit in my mouth if you like. Let me be your toilet, Donny, please.’

Donny looked uncertain; slave wasn’t even certain why she’d said it. What did she want from him? She didn’t want to be a human toilet – not really – but she wanted him to… what? Get personally involved, she guessed, to experience first hand what he’d inflicted on her – to get a little dirt on his hands, to walk away with some of the guilt he so obviously didn’t feel right now. To look her in the eye as he abused her – maybe that was it, to make him face the real, physical, results of his oh-so-clever machinations. She coaxed him, begged him, pleaded with him… and, eventually, he stepped over to her.

‘Alright,’ he said, obviously uneasy with the whole thing, ‘but just piss. That, at least, comes out clean. Shit’s fully of bacteria… you’d get sick.’

‘Too late,’ slave forced back a bitter laugh building in her throat, ‘Sarah and Shaun both made me eat their shit. Right now I may as well eat yours too: it’s the least you can do for me.’

Face going pale, Donny seemed unable to speak. Looking more nervous than slave felt, he eventually nodded, dropped his pants, and turned. His fear somehow building her confidence, slave made love to the man’s anus with her tongue, her lips, sucking out and swallowing his shit, probing deep, licking him clean, inside and out.

‘Delicious,’ she lied, and was rewarded with a look of sheer disgust and hollow fear from Donny. Nonetheless, he pissed in her mouth for her, and slave made sure to revel in that too, lapping at his cock and licking her lips when he’d finished. Quickly pulling up his pants Donny made to flee the room – the confident man who’d ruined her life as an intellectual exercise suddenly reduced to a frightened boy, in over his head, and playing games he couldn’t handle. She laughed as he opened the door, and called after him,

‘Think of me every time you use a toilet!’

He glanced back towards her, still silent, face a pale mask, and fled. That bitter laugh finally erupted from slave as she pictured poor Donny spending the rest of his life constipated, unable to shake the memory of the sick things he’d done to a young woman who’d once been called ‘Claire’.

  She did get sick, of course, after that night. Master Kyle was in a rage – not mad at her, but at himself for being so careless, and at Shaun in particular for treating her so badly. He put her to bed in one of the spare rooms, a chain from her collar to the bedpost the only, token, bondage, and called in a high-priced doctor – some friend of the family – who examined her thoroughly and prescribed a course of antibiotics. She was feverish for a while, but it soon passed, Master Kyle and Maria both nursing her back to health. She was fed good, nutritious, human food, which Master Kyle made sure to cum on, before he sat on the edge of her bed, spoon-feeding it too her. It made slave smile that he went to the effort, even though he was so obviously not in the mood, and she thanked him by eating it all, and asking for more. She had a lot of time to think as she recovered: her night as a human toilet had been an ordeal, but it had also shown her so much about what the people she thought were her friends were really like, and told her a lot about herself too. Her ‘friends’: Jasmine, so soft spoken and kind, but just as willing to piss on her for her own convenience as any of the others; Sarah, the redheaded pixie with a mean streak a mile long, showing her sadistic joy in slave’s humiliation; Shaun, the simple brute who’d ruin her for others just because he couldn’t have her himself; Donny, the intellectual, who couldn’t handle the realities behind the fantasies; and her Master, Kyle, who’d shown her that he really cared, in his way, and had just wanted to proudly show her off to his friends. As for herself, slave – she’d glimpsed what Master Kyle had tried to tell her that first night: that she could find victory in her humiliation, that she could find pride in her slavery.

For more than a week after her recovery, slave found Master Kyle treating her like she was going to break. It was weird, but she began to resent that fact he didn’t seem to want to whip her, or piss in her mouth, or fuck her face. It all started to seem so pointless, so lifeless and, one evening, she told him so. She was sucking him off as he sat in an armchair watching television, one of his hands absentmindedly stroking her hair as her head bobbed up and down in his lap. It struck her how bored she was, how mundane it was, and suddenly she decided to just stop. Slipping his cock from her mouth, she knelt up in front of him – he seemed more confused than angry that she’d stopped, and slave sighed, shaking her head,

‘This is pointless,’ she told him, ‘I’m not your girlfriend – I’m your slave. Lately you’ve been treating me like a naked houseguest: it has to stop.’

Master Kyle… or ‘Kyle’ as she’d been thinking of him of late – not much Mastery going on there… blinked and frowned,

‘What the Hell are you going on about, slave?’ he asked, his tone annoyed, but still not angry, ‘keep sucking.’

‘Why?’ she asked, ‘You can’t find any other girl to blow you?’ she sighed again, and softened her tone, ‘I’m sorry,’ she continued, ‘but you seem like you were so spooked when I fell ill that you won’t even allow yourself to enjoy owning me any more. Is that it? Are you fed up with me?’

‘No!’ Master Kyle shook his head, but then slumped a little, ‘… yes… I guess. I was spooked by your illness. I may be a bastard,’ he explained, ‘but I’m not a murderer. It’s not that I don’t want to… to dominate you,’ he searched for the words, then concluded, ‘I just don’t want to break you… not by accident, at least.’

‘Fine, then,’ slave stood up, hands on hips, ‘then don’t break me. You’re not an idiot, Master Kyle – just a bastard, like you said. You made a mistake: man-up for fuck sake; everyone makes mistakes. You’re not some fictional über-dominant who knows exactly what to do every time and has some mystical insight into how to handle his slave – you’re a guy who used to be thrilled by owning someone like me, and willing to indulge in that ownership. Trial and error is part of life, so be prepared to make some fucking mistakes, and learn from them. Don’t let an error beat you, let it show you how to be better.’ She paused for breath, aware that Master Kyle was staring at her with a stunned expression. Unwilling to lose her momentum, she added, ‘I’m sure there’s lots of other stuff you had planned for me, and I’m sure I’ll hate it – but don’t, for fuck sake, let that stop you. Now, while you think about it, I’m going upstairs to get something you can whip me with and, when I return, I expect you to be ready and willing to use it, okay?’

‘Uh…’ Master Kyle seemed dazed, but he managed an ‘… okay.’

As slave started to stalk off, Master Kyle finally seemed to regain some of his wits. Standing, he called out after her,

‘So you like being whipped now?’

‘Don’t be insane,’ slave stopped to call back over her shoulder, ‘it’s painful and horrid, and I dread it. But you enjoy it, and I enjoy you enjoying it… at least I enjoy you enjoying it more than I’ll ever enjoy being bored to death. So you’ll fucking do it, then you’ll fucking fuck me, then I’ll probably cry about it, and perhaps we can get back to normal around here!’

As she turned to head upstairs for a whip, slave caught a glimpse of Master Kyle’s mouth twisting into that old familiar crooked smile. Her heart fluttered, and her stomach churned, as fear and anticipation flooded her system. Could it be she’d awoken the sleeping giant, created a monster? Well, she thought to herself, trembling at the thought of what he’d do to her after that outburst, if she had, at least he was her monster.

  ‘Are you sure he’s a Doctor?’ slave whispered to Master Kyle as she knelt, nude, by his feet, her eyes tracing over their guest: the man appeared to be in his mid-forties, with a full beard, long unkempt hair, and muscular arms covered in tattoos. Sporting ripped jeans, an old military fatigue shirt with the sleeves ripped off, worn open to reveal more tattoos over the man’s chest, biker-style boots, and a bandana round his head… not to mention the obligatory sunglasses… the guy looked to slave to be more like some aging Hell’s Angel than a Doctor.

‘Be nice to Doctor Bob,’ Master Kyle insisted, twisting a hand in her hair to make her wince and punctuate his point. The old biker-dude Doctor glanced over and laughed,

‘Don’t worry,’ he drawled, ‘I got my Doctorate alright… I just decided that medicine wasn’t for me and turned to art instead.’ At that he opened the case he’d brought in from his van and spun it round – inside were all sorts of bars, rings, and studs – the kinds used for body-piercing. Wincing again, this time at the thought of what was coming, slave instinctively struggled against the leather cuffs binding her wrists behind her. Doc Bob laughed again,

‘Tits there is a nervous one,’ he observed. Slave found herself blushing at his casual and crude nickname for her, and his face split into a wide, nicotine-stained, gap-toothed grin.

‘I’m guessing the nipples,’ Doc Bob commented to Master Kyle as they both looked over slave’s nude body, ‘they’re huge – just begging to be ringed.’ Master Kyle nodded, reaching to pinch one of slave’s thimble-like erect nipples between his thumb and forefinger, causing her to wince yet again as he replied,

‘Definitely – but I want something large-gauge, none of those tiny little thin things.’

‘Something to hold on to?’ Doc Bob suggested, Master Kyle nodded,

‘Exactly – I want them practical, not just decorative.’

‘I think I can sort that out,’ the biker-dude searched through his case until he produced a large ring, more than an inch across, of thick chromed metal, ‘surgical steel,’ he explained, ‘better for that rough stuff than silver or gold.’

‘Nice!’ Master Kyle exclaimed.

‘Ouch!’ slave countered, a worried look on her face; both men laughed.

‘Anything else?’ Doc Bob asked. Master Kyle nodded, pointing out points on slave’s body as he spoke,

‘Labia rings: two each side. A clit ring, of course, one through the septum of the nose. Tongue… and lips – four upper, four lower, evenly spaced.’

‘That’s a lot of metal,’ the biker Doctor observed, nodding his approval; slave fought back the urge to say anything – her consent was Master Kyle’s to give, after all – her opinion didn’t really matter.

‘Now, the ass,’ Master Kyle pulled slave to her feet, the bent her over the arm of his chair, ass in the air facing Doc Bob, ‘I want her marked.’

‘Tattoo?’ Bob asked; Master Kyle shook his head,

‘I was thinking branding.’

Heart skipping a beat, slave flinched – was he really going to have her branded on the ass like some cow? She shuddered as Doc Bob’s rough hand grabbed and felt over her right ass-cheek,

‘Good skin, fleshy butt,’ he gave his prognosis, ‘yeah – that’ll look good. Any ideas about the design? Your name, perhaps?’

‘Her name,’ Master Kyle countered, ‘”slave”.’

Doc Bob laughed again,

‘I’ll get the irons and my blowtorch from the van…’

  Letting slip a rather heartfelt sigh, slave peered over her shoulder at the bathroom mirror, staring at the pale letters branded into the skin of her right buttock, fingers tracing over them, feeling their texture: her name… and status… spelled out, ‘slave’. It had taken a little over three weeks for her new piercings and brand to all heal to Doc Bob’s satisfaction. The brand had hurt the most, she recalled; although now she wasn’t sure if that was because it actually hurt the most as they held the cherry-hot iron of each letter to her skin in turn, or because it had just been the first thing they’d done to her that day, and it had helped to numb her to the rest of it. The shaped letters of the irons had been quite thin, slave had noted, although as the marks had healed into permanent scars on her flesh, they’d thickened somewhat. She still thought it had the look of a cattle brand, or maybe a military-style stencil, the loop of the letter ‘a’ being split because, Doc Bob had told Master Kyle, a closed brand could cause damage to, or loss of, the skin inside it. Applications of sun lotion had helped it heal light, as Master Kyle had desired.

Turning to face the mirror, slave checked her piercings. The rings in her nipples were, she felt, huge, although she had firm breasts and large nipples (now permanently erect) which bore the weight without sagging. Master Kyle, as she’d guessed when he’d first told her she was to be ringed, loved her nipple rings the most, and was always playing with them, pulling and tugging at them, leading her around by them: they’d already replaced her initial thick rings with even bigger ones, since the piercings had stretched a little under his constant attention. Moving her legs apart, slave examined her lower rings: all quite thick and solid compared with some ‘fashion’ piercings she’d seen, but not on the scale of her nipple rings. An upper and lower ring through both left and right labia, which Master Kyle used to pull her open, to hang weights from or, on occasion, he’d fasten a single ring through both left and right piercings - one upper, one lower - and seal her closed. The clit ring slave actually quite liked; not so much the fact that Master Kyle would attach a thin chain leash to it to lead her about, but the way it gave her constant stimulation. Usually, when Master Kyle fucked her, he didn’t bother overly with her satisfaction, and it was hard to climax without some clitoral stimulation; she knew that was his right, as her owner, but wouldn’t deny that her clit ring made a big difference to her enjoyment of being used. Master Kyle had, on occasion, also hung weights from her clit ring: which could be the source of intense, lasting, orgasmic pleasure as she moved, or intense, lasting, pain… depending on just how much weight he chose to use.

Glancing up at her reflected face, slave frowned. Those piercings she didn’t really like. The tongue piercing, just off-centre to avoid nerve damage, had been horrid to start with – causing her tongue to balloon up as it reacted to the damage and intrusion, and making it hard for her to speak properly as she got used to it. She didn’t mind that one so much now though, hidden from sight as it was, and Master Kyle loved the feel of the rod’s ball on his cock as she fellated him. He sometimes put a ring in there instead, so that he could lead her by her tongue, and that was just plain nasty – it made her drip saliva down her chin and made her mouth all dry. One time, when she’d (he’d claimed) not lived up to the usual high standards he demanded from oral sex, he’d bound her wrists and ankles, and left her kneeling all day with her tongue nailed, through the piercing, to the kitchen table: that experience she had no desire to repeat. The ring through her septum, large enough to brush her top lip, she guessed she could live with if she had to, but generally she felt it made her look ugly: that was yet another way Master Kyle liked to lead her around, literally by the nose, like some farm animal being led to market. The eight rings through her lips were the smallest she had, hugging closely to the natural curve of her full lips, but she’d not seen the point of them to begin with and had just focused on how upset she was that they, in her opinion, looked awful – she’d always secretly thought that her lips were one of her better features – resembling vertical chromed metal bars striping her mouth and conjuring up memories of the hated braces she’d had to wear as a teenager which the other kids had taunted her about mercilessly. Master Kyle claimed he liked the way they felt wrapped around his cock, but it wasn’t until he’d pulled the same trick he used on her labia – to fasten a single vertical ring through each of the four matching upper and lower pairs of piercings – and sealed her mouth that’d she understood why he’d had them put in… to use as a gag.

Still, slave sighed again, she supposed she was getting used to them all; and Master Kyle was pleased which, after all, was the only thing that really mattered. Now, tonight, he’d invited their friends over again (it seemed as though Master Kyle had made an uneasy peace with Shaun, and slave suspected that Donny would come merely out of fear of upsetting Master Kyle and losing his access to the power elite), and he’d said he’d got a special task for slave to perform. Certain that she’d not be on ‘toilet duty’ again, after the last time (if not for her health, then because Master Kyle didn’t seem like the type to repeat a ‘stunt’ when he could impress with something original), she was, nonetheless, still nervous about whatever he did have planned. It would be the first time any of them had seen her ringed, so she was guessing that it may involve her new jewellery… but wasn’t sure exactly how. In any case, she’d find out soon enough – she’d got herself washed and made-up, and fashioned her long honey blonde hair into single cable-like braid which hung down her back, as Master Kyle had instructed – by now he’d be awaiting her arrival downstairs. Master Kyle had removed slave’s dog collar after Doc Bob’s first visit, reckoning that the rings and branding were more than adequate symbols of his ownership of her, so she was nude, apart from her rings, when she stepped back into the bedroom to put on the boots Master Kyle had left out for her to wear. They were thigh-high, made of shiny black leather (slave had been polishing them for hours), and sported insanely high heels which she’d needed hours to practice in before she could walk with any sort of grace at all. She perched on the edge of the bed, pulled the tight-fitting boots on with a little effort, and set to fastening the buckles which ran all the way up the back. Once that was done slave paused, fingers fiddling with the two thin lengths of chain attached to the top of each boot, taking a moment to summon her courage. Finally, taking a deep breath, she clipped each of the lengths to one of her labia rings – needing to stretch herself uncomfortably to do so. Trying to ignore the discomfort, slave closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and rose to her feet. Standing, the little chains distended her labia painfully and, as she headed downstairs with the tiny little, butt-swaying, steps the torturous boots forced her to take, each step sent a little twinge of pain through her… along with a frisson of excitement. Still, with great effort, she managed to walk gracefully (if not rapidly) downstairs and into the kitchen with a good approximation of a sweet smile of her face.

‘You’re late,’ Master Kyle stated, a dark edge in his tone as he turned from whatever he’d been doing on the table to face slave, leather cuffs in hand. Maria, finalising preparations for snacks and drinks, shot slave a sympathetic glance, but said nothing. Keeping her sweet smile in place, slave thought better of pointing out that it was the awkwardness of the inhumane footwear he’d forced her to wear which had taken all the time, and instead turned to present her wrists to him,

‘Yes, Master,’ she replied softly, ‘sorry, Master.’

Silently, Master Kyle attached the chain-linked cuffs to her wrists… then forced her forwards over the kitchen counter! Breasts and face slapping onto the hard surface, labia wrenched by their chains, slave let out a howl of pain and surprise.

‘Give me that.’ Master Kyle demanded of Maria, and slave managed to see as the maid fearfully handed over a large wooden spoon, still smeared with cake mix, she’d been using. A moment later and a flare of pain erupted across slave’s buttocks (along with a splatter of cake mix) as Master Kyle began to paddle her mercilessly. It seemed to go on forever (although it was, in reality, probably only a few minutes), each blow tenderising slave’s buttocks, with echoing stabs of pain through her labia as she involuntarily bucked and jumped, held face-first to the counter by Master Kyle’s strong hand. Only when slave’s yells and cries had turned to pitiful sobbing did Master Kyle cease the rain of blows and step away, breathing hard from his exertion, as slave lay there, tears running down her face.

‘Damn it!’ cursed Master Kyle a moment later, ‘You’re filthy now.’ slave was still trying to force a sobbed apology through her tears when he gestured towards Maria, ‘Clean her up,’ he ordered the maid.

Dropping a neat curtsy, Maria grabbed a cloth and stepped forward, but Master Kyle stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, and slowly drew the cloth from between her fingers as he guided her to her knees,

‘With your tongue, Maria,’ Master Kyle insisted solemnly, ‘I’m sure you remember how.’

Unable to see Maria’s reaction, slave wondered again what the relationship, and history, between the maid and her Master was: she’d never heard him talk to Maria with that domineering tone before, although Maria had always been very deferential to Master Kyle. It crossed slave’s mind that Maria had worked for Master Kyle’s parents before she’d come to work for Master Kyle when he’d first attended university, and that perhaps there were aspects to his family life which she’d yet to find out about; but the soothing touch of Maria’s skilful tongue against her tortured backside caused any such contemplations to slip away. Under the soft caress of Maria’s lapping tongue, slave’s shuddering sobs faded first to contented moans, then to excited ones, as it appeared the maid wasn’t stopping with cleaning off the cake mix, but was intent of exploring the folds of slave’s stretched pussy, teasing the ring through her clit, and even lapping at and probing into the bud of slave’s anus.

‘Enough.’ Suddenly Maria’s attentions were brought to a halt by the one word command of Master Kyle, leaving slave tantalisingly near climax, but unable to reach it. Twisting to peer behind her, slave saw Maria bob another curtsy, before rising to return to her more usual duties. Without warning, slave was slammed forward, yelping out loud as Master Kyle’s hot cock rammed unceremoniously up her arse: if it hadn’t been for Maria’s lubrication and relaxing of her, then slave would have sworn the cruel thrust would have split her. Gasping out loud, slave squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth as she tried her best to accommodate and ride out Master Kyle’s buggering of her, tried to ignore the pain in both her ass and labia as he fucked her hard and fast.

‘You want her tongue back on your clit?’ Master Kyle hissed into slave’s ear as his weight pressed her onto the counter and his shaft mercilessly ploughed her behind. She managed a grunt and a nod, but Master Kyle wasn’t satisfied, ‘then beg,’ he hissed, ‘beg me!’

‘P-please!’ slave forced out her grunted reply, ‘please, Master, please can I have Maria’s tongue on my clit! Oh please, Master, I beg you! Please! Please!’

She didn’t see Master Kyle gesture to Maria, but guessed me must have, because a moment later the maid’s tongue was back, between slave’s legs, licking, lapping, probing, circling slave’s clit, flickering over it, coaxing the ringed pearl to orgasm. Coming so hard she swore it hurt, slave felt Master Kyle react as he stiffened, his thrusting ceased, and he ejaculated deep into her. For a few moments slave lay, spent, with Master Kyle’s heavy masculine body pinning her, enveloping her with his form, his scent, his breathing heavy against her neck, his heartbeat fast through her back; and Maria’s generous tongue lapping away, her lips stealing light kisses, as she eased slave down from her climax. Then Master Kyle pushed himself off her, his softening cock sliding from her back passage as he stepped away and, for a fleeting second, slave felt lost and abandoned as the kitchen’s cool air-conditioned breeze replaced his comforting warmth.

‘Clean that up.’ Master Kyle ordered. Presuming he was talking to her, slave began to turn, ready to drop to her knees to polish his manhood with her mouth; instead she stopped as she felt Maria’s gentle fingers pry apart her buttocks, and that wonderfully skilled tongue setting to work on cleaning up the results of the ass-fucking Master Kyle had just given her. She felt Maria lapping up the line of cum which was drizzling from her anus, then the maid’s tongue was in her as she sought to lick her clean inside, as well as out, her beautiful lips pressed to slave’s rear bud. Moaning softly, slave relaxed and enjoyed her friend’s tender ministrations while she could. All too soon Maria completed her appointed task: now Master Kyle did get slave to turn and drop, cleaning up the mess she’d made of his penis with her lips, tongue, and mouth.

Stopping her short of sucking him off, Master Kyle ordered slave to rise; once she was standing he stepped to the table and returned with the device he’d been fiddling with when she’d walked in. The thing looked to be a round metal tray, the sort used by waitresses, with a loose hinge attached to a wide leather belt on one side, and two thin chains dangling from the other. Without comment, Master Kyle fastened the belt around slave’s waist, so that the tray was dangling down in front of her, chains dragging on the floor. Pulling the wide belt corset-tight, he buckled it, leaving slave standing as upright as she could, fighting for breath. She found that the corset-like belt, insanely high heels, and cuffs she wore were combining to force her to stand up straight, but with her butt and breasts thrust provocatively out, back arched, shoulders back. Master Kyle circled her, nodding with approval, before lifting the tray on its hinge until it was held out horizontally from slave’s body; he then pulled up the two chains, one at a time, and clipped them, one each, onto slave’s nipple rings, before releasing the tray and standing back: the tray, supported by the chains to slave’s nipples, remained horizontal… at the expense of slave’s breasts and nipples being pulled by the weight. Master Kyle’s smile was beginning to develop into a full-on grin, as he picked up a couple of unopened bottles of beer and placed them, one at a time, onto slave’s tray. Each bottle added caused slave to wince in pain as her sensitive nipples were stretched more and more, in addition to causing her to lean back further in an effort to keep them balanced on the tray. She felt tears brimming anew in her eyes, and chewed the inside of her cheek to avoid crying out, as Master Kyle nodded again,

‘Good,’ he commented, enthusiastically, ‘good. Now, try walking around a bit…’ slave, reluctantly, obeyed; finding that each step now not only pulled at and stretched her labia, but her nipples too – no matter how gently or slowly she tried to walk the natural bounce of the activity emphasized the painful distension of her ringed flesh – as Master Kyle called out instructions, ‘… good, now turn… walk back… nice, but do it again, faster… no, faster than that: our guests will want their beer before it gets warm, slave! Better… oh, for Heaven’s sake, stop looking so petulant!’

It took a while before Master Kyle was satisfied with slave’s technique (either that or, she suspected, he was just really enjoying watching her suffer), but eventually he pronounced her ready. As a final touch, he clipped a short length of chain to slave’s clit ring, and hung a flat metal bottle opener from it. Fighting back tears, slave remained quiet, instead concentrating on just trying to breath with the tight belt squeezing her midriff.

When the doorbell finally rang Maria hurried to answer it, while Master Kyle, grinning, loaded up five full bottles of beer on slave’s tray, then headed into the living room to greet his guests. Teeth gritted, slave waited, trying not to wonder if her cruelly stretched flesh would be ruined forever. Maria returned to the kitchen, offering slave a sympathetic look, and moments later Master Kyle called out,

‘Beer, slave – bring us beer!’

Swallowing her pride along with her pain, slave blinked back tears and trotted obediently into the living room, trying her very best, despite her ludicrous getup, to look attractive and sexy as she moved. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, slave willed a smile onto her face and entered the living room,

‘As you command, Master Kyle,’ she spoke with forced calm as she stepped over to him, her eyes quickly scanning the room to see the usual crowd: Shaun and Donny, Sarah and Jasmine – all dressed, as Master Kyle was, in casual clothes – jeans and T-shirts for the guys, a pretty flower-pattern summer dress for Jasmine, and ‘Daisy Duke’ cut-off jeans and a vest for Sarah. For an instant they all stared, open-mouthed, and slave saw Master Kyle’s grin widen even more. With a flourish he grabbed a bottle of beer, reached down to grab the bottle-opener dangling between slave’s legs, popped the cap off, sat back, and took a relaxed swig – all while slave battled to not cry out as every touch and tug, every shift in weight, sent painful vibrations through her ringed and distorted nipples and labia.

‘Cheers, guys,’ Master Kyle toasted them, and surprised shock melted into uproarious laughter as the others called slave over to serve them and she tottered about obediently, wincing and whimpering as they carelessly handled the implements attached to her body. Once they’d all been served, they got to chatting, and slave stood, relieved that so much weight had been taken off her tray, quiet and still by Master Kyle’s side. Sarah finished her beer first, necking it quickly and fixing slave with an altogether evil look of amusement and mischief: she waved slave over and slave, after glancing at Master Kyle for approval, went, kneeling down when Sarah indicated that she should, only to have Sarah slam her empty bottle down heavily onto slave’s tray, causing her to yelp out loud in pain – much to the amusement of Master Kyle and his guests. Tears which had been building now bubbled over, and slave wept openly, sniffing, as the others followed suit and returned their empties, each of them managing to make her yell out as they slammed down their bottles, despite her best efforts not to. Following Master Kyle’s waved dismissal, slave returned to the kitchen, Sarah’s voice ringing in her ears as she walked, painfully, away,

‘That is so cool, Kyle,’ the evil pixie chirped, ‘make her bring up a pitcher next!’

  Master Kyle and his guests spent a couple of hours drinking, eating, laughing, and chatting, as slave served them with food and beverages Maria loaded onto her tray whenever she returned to the kitchen. Tears having eventually dried up, slave tried to tune out the pain, but it came in little stabs and spikes as things were put onto and taken off her tray, as she moved, and as they deliberately caught and tugged at her tray and other rings; every little pain was as intense and excruciating as the first. When she finally got to serving hot black coffee, Sarah deliberately splashed a few searing drops across slave’s breasts, and she yelled out, jerking back, then yelling out again at the pain of the motion, before collapsing, panting, to her knees.

‘Oops!’ Sarah quipped, and they all laughed, even Jasmine. Feeling spent, unable to face the humiliating and painful struggle to regain her footing and stand in the abnormally high heels and bondage, slave just hung her head, breathing heavily. It was Shaun who spoke next,

‘Come on, Kyle,’ he urged, ‘let’s all just fuck the bitch. It’s about time; you’ve been hogging her for months now!’

‘Sure,’ Master Kyle’s reply was light-hearted, as he added, ‘she reminded me a while back that she was my slave, not my girlfriend: I guess I lost sight of that. You know how one can get sentimental about favourite playthings?’ they all laughed, even as slave felt her heart sinking – he wasn’t saying anything untrue and yet… had she allowed herself to think there was love between them? If so, she knew it was foolish and stupid of her but, she reminded herself, it would hardly be the first time she’d been that! Master Kyle has stepped over to her, and was removing the tray apparatus; slave tried desperately to catch his eye, to try to glean what he felt, but he just unbuckled and removed the belt, unclipped the chains from her nipples, and tossed it to one side, before rolling her onto her face and pulling her butt up, so that she was kneeling with her face in the carpet. He slapped her ass once, hard enough to make her cry out, then, one hand resting on her rear, invited the others to use her,

‘Roll up, roll up,’ he quipped, ‘free entry for all comers! Fuck the freak and leave happy!’

Freak… the word pained slave more than any of the abuse she’d been through that night: if she were a freak, he’d made her one! She’d thought he’d cared, thought that by trying to revel in her humiliation, by trying to be what he wanted, he’d somehow care for her… yes, even love her… and now: now she was his sideshow freak – a cheap amusement for his friends to have a chuckle at. Not even able to cry any more, slave just shut her eyes and endured as the bottle opener was removed from between her legs and replaced by Shaun’s painfully wide cock slamming aggressively into first her pussy, then agonisingly into her ass. He came quite quickly after that, pulling out and spraying over her ass cheeks, thighs, down her back, in what she imagined he thought was a porn star style. Vaguely she registered Donny crying off using her because of the mess, and Sarah arguing with Master Kyle, but it all seemed so far away…

‘NO!’ slave’s thoughts were jolted back to clarity by Master Kyle’s roared denial. Collapsed on the carpet, cum dribbling off her, slave blinked and tried to focus: Sarah was standing in front of Master Kyle, peering up at him as he towered over her, arms folded across his chest, shaking his head. Sarah was waggling an accusing finger at Master Kyle and in her other hand she was holding… slave felt her blood run cold as she recognised the brutal barb-tip scourge from Master Kyle’s bedroom – Sarah must have found it when slave was getting fucked by Shaun.

‘So all that stuff about her being your slave and not your girlfriend was just bullshit, right Kyle?!’ Sarah yelled. Master Kyle snarled, fuming, as he barked back,

‘I just don’t want my property damaged, you little harpy! That thing will scar her for life, if it doesn’t kill her – it’s a fucking showpiece!’

‘Fine,’ Sarah puffed up, forced calm entering her voice as she folded her arms, scourge still in hand, ‘I’ll buy her – then I can do what the fuck I want with the bitch. How much?’

‘She’s…’ Master Kyle took a step backwards, obviously caught off guard as he held up his hands and finished, in a whisper, ‘… she’s not for sale.’

‘Of course she is,’ Sarah pressed her argument mercilessly, ‘if she’s just a slave, then of course she’s for sale – at some price. What is it, Kyle: what’s your slave’s life worth to you?’

‘More than you could afford,’ Master Kyle rallied a little, ‘so just forget it, okay?’

‘No,’ Sarah stubbornly insisted, ‘I want to know – how much for the bitch, Kyle? How much?’

Feeling as if her heart was caught in her throat slave waited for Master Kyle’s reply. For a long moment he stood, eyes to the floor, breathing heavily, shoulders quivering as if he were trying to control a rage. Then he looked over to slave, and she saw his expression calm from rage as it slowly transformed into that crooked smile and evil glint in his dark eyes which slave knew so well. Not sure why, knowing that she shouldn’t be supporting this man who’d enslaved and brutalised her, slave couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement and pride as she anticipated Master Kyle’s victory over Sarah, and silently cheered him on.

‘Alright,’ Master Kyle turned back to Sarah, his voice sounding casual and confident again – slave thought Sarah looked smaller than ever besides him now as he continued, ‘my price is you, Sarah – life for life. That sounds like a fair trade…’ he laughed cruelly, adding,’not pound for pound, of course, but you get the picture…’

Sarah fumed – she’d always hated jokes about her size – and shook her head,

‘That’s just stupid,’ she observed, ‘I’m not going to buy her by selling myself – how does that even work? You’re just trying to worm out of answering so that you can keep your little girlfriend, Kyle.’

‘Not at all,’ Master Kyle’s reply was quick and confident – slave fancied she could see his thoughts racing as some sort of plan formed in his mind; she noted that Donny was looking on with that intellectual fascination of his, while Shaun seemed dumbstruck (and dumb – with his pants still down round his ankles) and Jasmine was wide-eyed but quiet. Master Kyle shrugged, as if what he was saying was obvious, ‘I propose a wager: if you win, you get slave. If I win, I keep her… and get you too.’

‘M-me..?’ Sarah’s face had gone sheet white, and she took a step back as Master Kyle sighed, feinting boredom,

‘Sure,’ he yawned, ‘we all know the drill by now: Donny, get the papers ready; Sarah, you’ll sign them and Donny will hold them as an impartial referee, okay? Unless…’ he added, with more than a hint of venom in his tone as he fixed Sarah with a challenging glare, ‘… you’re just full of shit.’

Seconds ticked by as slave watched Sarah’s expression twist from fear to anger and back again. Finally she spat her reply as a harsh whisper,

‘What’s the bet? I’ll not play cards with you for this, Kyle – you’re too much of a hustler.’

‘Oh,’ Master Kyle gave a dismissive gesture, ‘I don’t really care: you decide.’

Sarah nodded, then her brow furrowed as she appeared to be wracking her brain to come up with a challenge she knew she’d beat him on. Finally slave saw a sinister smile tugged at Sarah’s lips; pointing at slave with the scourge she said,

‘Her: she’ll be the bet. If she can last five minutes of me using this whip on her, then you win. If she passes out, calls for me to stop, or…’ she shrugged at Master Kyle, ‘… dies, then I win. Although if she dies, you can dump the body…’

Seeing Master Kyle’s rage building once more, knowing he was going to back down, slave managed to catch his eye and, terrified as she was, nod her head, just a little. Master Kyle’s eyes widened, his brows raised in silent question; slave nodded again, a little more firmly. God - she was petrified, but she couldn’t let Sarah win, couldn’t bear to see Master Kyle back down. She tried not to think about what was about to happen to her body, tried not to look at the flesh-ripping hooks of the cruel many-tailed whip, and focused on the fact that, for once, she had her own fate in her hands: it was up to her to endure, or to suffer worse as the property of sadistic little Sarah.

‘Agreed.’ Master Kyle’s bravado had faded, but he answered with a curt nod; and Sarah’s grin widened. None of the others seemed happy, but they obediently jumped to, getting Sarah’s slave contract and power of attorney signed and ready in case she lost, and taking slave to the tiled downstairs bathroom where she’d served as their toilet. There, they fastened slave’s cuffed wrists above her head, fixed to some sturdy piping in the ceiling, leaving her stretched to tip-toes – Sarah insisted she remove the thigh-high boots to expose as much flesh for her to abuse as possible. Finally everything was ready: while the others stood back, Sarah stepped up to slave, ran her fingers gently across her skin, slipped one forefinger through slave’s left nipple ring and tugged gently at it, as she whispered,

‘I was always so jealous of these melons of yours, Claire. Jasmine I could handle – black girls are meant to have curves – but you… why’d you get tits when I didn’t? Doesn’t seem fair, does it? I’m going to enjoy messing them up most of all…’

‘Sarah,’ slave fixed the little bitch with a steady stare as she spoke through gritted teeth, ‘I hope Master Kyle lets me watch as he breaks you in: I was his first, but I’ve taught him to not be gentle – you…’ she lip slip a manic laugh, ‘… you he’ll snap like the twig you are. Now do your worst, bitch, and I’ll see you in five.’

Snarling, Sarah stepped back, out of sight; slave heard her give the whip a couple of test cracks, and closed her eyes, trying to dredge up happy thoughts and, to her surprise, finding herself reliving memories of Master Kyle laying on top of her bound body, both of them sweat-covered and breathing heavily, as he paused with his erect cock buried to the hilt in her arse.

‘And…’ Donny, the designated time-keeper, failed to hide the nerves in his tone as he peered at his watch, raised his hand slowly… then dropped it, ‘begin!’

White-hot liquid fire erupted across slave’s back as the scourge bit deep, searing lines of pain, and carving wounds into her flesh. She screamed – screamed as she’d never screamed before – as if expelling the noise, the air, would somehow purge the agony from her body; but she refused to call a halt: even as she felt blood ooze from her lacerated back, even as the scourge cracked across her flesh again, the cruel barbed tips wrapping round her side to gouge chunks of flesh from her abdomen, even as Sarah aimed the tongues of acid pain to claw at her breasts, between her legs, all across her body… Time melted away, past and future meaningless and blotted out by the constant, unrelenting, agony of her body being ripped apart, piece by tiny piece, as the scourge landed time and again, its tendrils reaching into every intimate part of her, its barbed teeth tasting her blood with every stroke…

‘Ten seconds left’, Donny’s cry seemed so far away to slave, the words meaningless; Sarah loomed into her line of sight, spitting rage, dishevelled and sweating, panting heavily, slave’s own blood splattered across her pixie-like face, her clothes, her bare thighs, dripping from the scourge in her hand,

‘Just quit, already!’ she screamed at slave; not sure why exactly, slave found it strangely, distantly, amusing… then a smile rose to her lips as she remembered and whispered, through broken and bloody lips,

‘I win.’

  It took a long time for Master Kyle and Maria to nurse slave back to health under the guidance of Doc Bob, but she got there in the end. Sitting in Master Kyle’s old bedroom at his parents’ house, preparing for the party, she smiled at herself in the mirror. She didn’t think she was pretty anymore: jagged diagonal scars marked her forehead, her cheeks, her lips and chin; not to mention the uneven scarring covering her entire body, jagged lines and the dimple-like marks where her flesh had been gouged – but she did think herself beautiful. She’d walked through fire and been forged into a stronger form. She had pride in her subjugation, she had certainty that she could endure whatever was thrown at her, and she had Master Kyle… at least until he decided to get rid of her; but that was okay too – she belonged to him, her will was to obey, and if – and when – she was to be passed to the next Master, then she’d belong there as well.

Finishing her make-up, softening the impact of her scars, adding dark eye shadow, liner, painting her lips the blood red which Master Kyle had wanted, slave checked her honey blonde hair – fixed up in an elegant formal style – then slipped into the dress he’d selected: an evening gown by some designer or other, blue-black silk which clung to and accentuated her curves, openly revealing the imprint of her large, erect, ringed nipples, slit to the thigh either side to reveal bare legs, waxed smooth but textured with the delicate lace pattern of her pale scars. Blue-black suede stiletto heels on her feet matched the dress.

‘Beautiful,’ Master Kyle murmured as he stepped up behind her, looking rather dashing in his dress tuxedo, slipping his arms around her waist and nuzzling kisses into her neck, ‘my beautiful slave.’

‘Thank you Master,’ slave murmured the response: she knew now that she really meant I love you Master. She smiled, content and relaxed, as he buckled her cuffs to her wrists behind her back, the tilted her face towards him as he hung large diamond earrings from her ears, matching the diamond he’d hung from her clit ring earlier, and slipped a metal ring through her nose. For a final touch, he took a needle threaded with a crimson silk cord, and passed it through the piercings in her lips – lacing them up to form four red bars and three red crosses to seal her mouth.

‘Beautiful,’ Master Kyle murmured again, and slave felt herself being lost in the depths of his dark eyes.

Taking a thin chain leash from his pocket, Master Kyle clipped it to slave’s nose ring,

‘My father’s going to love you,’ he whispered, his lips brushing her ear, ‘he always said that the perfect woman is beautiful, silent, and easily led by the nose…’

He kissed her lips then, laces and all, and slave felt a surge of pride and joy to be considered beautiful and, if not truly loved then, at least, loved to be owned. Holding the end of slave’s leash, Master Kyle stepped towards the door, tugging gently to urge her forward,

‘Time to meet the family,’ he smiled his crooked smile, ‘I’m sure that you’re going to be the best birthday present the old man’s ever been given.’