Corrections

Knowing only what I had read about BDSM, I was intrigued enough to join several websites dedicated to the subject. Not entirely sure what I was looking for, I created a profile online listing myself as a straight 'switch', but giving few other details. I enjoyed browsing the profiles of women online, but never plucked up enough courage to open a dialog with one.

Suddenly, one day he received a notification that he had a message waiting. Clicking the link, he saw that young Domme from New York was asking him "do u ahve webcam slave?". Beyond her stunning photograph, age and location, that was all the information available. At the time, he had no webcam, and wasn't sure this was what he wanted, so he quickly sent back "I'm afraid not." Although the site told him this reply was read just two minutes later, the Domme said nothing more, presumably turning her attention to more promising candidates for her use.

This brief exchange lingered in his mind, however, and over time, the notion of serving and submitting to such a beautiful Domme grew on him. Clearly his earlier one-liner had not made a good impression: a more subservient approach was called for, and obtaining a webcam would probably help - even if She had no further interest, many other Dommes seemed interested in their use, and they were extremely cheap to buy these days.

Thinking through what he had read of such relationships, it became clear that he had managed to pack at least four transgressions into that simple sentence. First, the Mistress had addressed him as 'slave', but in his response he had not directly address Her at all, let alone with an appropriate tone or level of respect. Moreover, he had referred to himself as 'I' - an inappropriate use of a capital pronoun for a slave, an honor which is reserved for people, and use of the first person, where a slave must always refer to itself in the third person: 'this slave' or 'it'. Finally, of course, the message itself was wrong: any 'request' from a Mistress to a slave is really an order - the only permitted response was for the slave to confirm that it was in the process of obeying Her.

After reflecting on this for more than two days, with the idea of becoming this Mistress's cam plaything growing on him all the time, he began drafting a more appropriate response to Her. First, of course, it had to avoid the previous mistakes, addressing Her correctly as 'Mistress', referring to itself as 'this slave' or 'it', and indicating its belated obediance of Her orders.

In addition, this had to repair the damage done in its previous missive. Long ago, he - 'this slave', it corrected itself - remembered reading a long erotic story by 'Mr Ed' entitled 'Rebecca Mine', in which the title character is brutally enslaved by her mother. The story itself was too extreme, in many parts, even to form a fantasy, let alone appeal to anyone sane, but early in the story the mother educates her new slave in a proper slave apology, which has four parts. First, self deprecation: the slave is not worthy of receiving anything from its owner, much less forgiveness, which is a concept reserved for people, not slaves. Secondly, sincere regret: a slave must genuinely regret doing anything which displeased its Mistress. Thirdly, an expression of how superior its Mistress is to the slave. Finally, gratitude for its punishment: since the punishment is intended to make the slave a better plaything for its owner, gratitude is essential.

In this case, gratitude for punishment would be inappropriate - there hadn't been one yet. It seemed sensible, however, for the slave to substitute heartfelt begging for its Mistress to be kind enough to punish it properly; in the mean time, perhaps the slave should attempt to punish itself.

So, with clamps on its nipples, a heavy weight partly hanging from the clamps, partly resting on the floor - heavy enough that if the slave sat up fully, the clamps would be brutally torn off - and an old shoelace tightly constricting its balls and cock, the slave started typing a letter of apology, begging for Her to permit the slave to punish itself for this transgression, and to be permitted a second chance at serving Her. Unsure what response - if any - to expect, the slave gritted its teeth, slowly got to its feet - almost enjoying the agony as the clips slid from its nipples under the weight, pretending that it had been ordered to do so, and whispering 'thank You, Mistress' to itself - went to bed, then spent the night dreaming of being used and punished by its beautiful yet enigmatic would-be Mistress.

After a few more e-mails, my online Mistress was growing increasingly irritated by my failure to buy a webcam for her to use with me. Having little confidence in my own appearance - Mistress was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, and I felt sure she would not be impressed with me - I delayed, making excuses. Little did I know where that would lead me!

Returning home from work one Friday evening, I found the standard 'we tried to deliver...' note waiting. I thought nothing of it - small parcels would often arrive unexpectedly - until I checked my email, finding a message notification: Mistress had sent me something! With my heart racing, I clicked the link - half-expecting to find Mistress finally dispensing with me entirely, or at least reminding me that I had promised to have a webcam for her by now. Instead, a simple note: 'slave. the parcel is from me. collect and open now.' Unlike a regular e-mail, now I had opened the message, Mistress would see the exact time of opening. Rather than risk further delays, I rushed to the courier firm's depot, arriving minutes before it closed for the night. Having been sent to Scotland from New York, the large and heavy parcel bore a Customs declaration sticker, describing the contents as 'Personal electronic equipment' - a more accurate description than I would have guessed at the time.

One last order from Mistress to obey: 'open it'. I rushed to do so. The first item revealed was a black box, about half the size of a VCR, with a series of sockets on the back, one for a computer network, another for power, the rest identical USB ports, delivering both data and power through a single cable. Next to this, a small webcam, with a USB plug.

Clearly, rather than give up on me entirely, Mistress had simply taken matters into her own hands: if I was too stupid or disobedient to install a webcam for her, Mistress would ensure that it happened anyway. As I was to learn later, I had only two options when it came to Her orders: obey now, or be made to obey later. Knowing I had no alternative, I began preparing for a session of online submission to Her, connecting the box and camera.

Obviously, Mistress required me to install or use all the contents of the box, in the order in which they were packed; next out came a strange pair of skimpy, thong-like leather shorts and a sort of leather sports bra, both much more bulky than would be expected. The shorts also had an integral butt-plug and some sort of sheath, obviously intended to capture the slave's cock; the bra was more conventional, aside from cutouts for the nipples. Seeing the plug already had a thin coating of some sort of lubricant, this seemed the obvious place to start, so I cautiously pushed it into place, then inserted my cock and balls into their prisons in the other part of the 'shorts'. Picking up the bra, I reflected to myself that if the worst Mistress inflicted was wearing some kinky underwear, this should be a fun evening - a thought I was soon to regret!

Next came the bra - more like the conventional variety than the 'shorts', resembling a well-padded leather peephole bra except for the posture collar joining the shoulder straps together, with a pair of handcuffs dangling from the collar on long chains, and that on the back where a regular bra would have a clasp, this one had some sort of control box with another pair of handcuffs and a lead dangling down to reach the shorts. Fastening it into place and connecting the lead, I received what would turn out to be the first of many nasty shocks of the weekend: as soon as the final connection was made, the collar, bra and shorts all tightened cruelly, while the butt plug inflated to painful dimensions. As the bra cups inflated, a series of tiny spikes emerged on the inside, impaling my breasts - and, although I didn't immediately realize this, injecting a slow-acting venom which would cause swelling and further pain in that area. The burning sensation in my ass was not all the result of the expansion, either: the 'lubricant' had been designed for the entertainment of a watching sadist, rather than the comfort of the slave forced to use it.

Overwhelmed for a moment by the shock and pain, I clawed frantically at the bra cups with one hand and the butt plug with the other - but after a few moments, realized I had no choice: there was no way to remove any of my costume without outside help! As I calmed down, however, and became more accustomed to the pain, I glanced in the mirror, and realized that Mistress might well accept the bound, punished slave I saw looking back at me.

Cheered a little by that thought, and trusting that Mistress would release me unharmed - give or take a little pain, which I was sure Her slave should be able to handle for Her - after having some online fun, I turned my attentions back to Her crate. Only a few items remained now: some very strange metal 'shoes' with a rigid bar joining them together, a ballgag with a long hose attached, three large plastic bags filled with a clear fluid, a hood, and a long cable. After a moment's hesitation, I decided the slave in the mirror should be fitted with the cable first, joining the 'torture shorts' to the control box with the camera. As I did so, an idea struck the slave: perhaps it could escape by disconnecting the box from the Internet! As soon as it reached for the network cable, however, a brutal series of shocks rippled through its bra cups and crotch, leaving it gasping for breath and whimpering on the floor.

'Foolish', I thought, glaring at the agonized figure in the mirror. 'Mistress wouldn't let Her slave escape that easily! Stupid slave deserves to suffer for that.' I forced it to its feet and staggered back to Her crate, grabbing the bags of fluid. Simple enough: each had a single locking connector which matched one of the control boxes on the 'underwear'. Just three items now: the gag, the hood and the shoes. Clearly the hood had to go last, but doing the shoes would impede movement - the gag had to come next. With a little pain and pressure, the slave managed to force the gag into its mouth and fasten the strap, feeling a sense of accomplishment as the strap locked into place. The hose was a mystery, however: where did it go? After a few seconds, it hit the slave: the screw cap a foot from the end matched the tip of the cock sheath - leaving only one place the extra foot of hose could be put...

Thankfully, the hose was already lubricated, so it slid into place with relatively little extra pain until it latched into the cap on the sheath. Unlike the plug, the lubricant was not designed to inflict pain of its own - it was, however, conductive to electricity, which is why the hose had fine metal strips either side, as the slave would soon discover.

"Almost done... for now" it thought to itself, picking up the 'shoes'. Each consisted of a flat metal disk, obviously intended to sit on the floor, with a narrow slightly curved metal strip emerging almost at right angles to the disk. At the floor end, a metal cup would capture the slave's toes, while the spikes lining the metal strip provided yet another reminder that the slave was there to suffer for the enjoyment of its Mistress. A cuff could be slid up or down the metal strip, then locked in place around the victim's ankle, ensuring the shoe could not be removed without some sort of key.

Just in case the spiked, locking ballet shoes weren't cruel enough, they were joined with a foot long spreader bar, which had two fine steel chains connected, each with two clips. The first attached to the front of the torture shorts, just long enough to allow the slave to remain standing, just short enough that trying to stand fully upright crushed and stretched the slave's balls mercilessly - while the shoes prevented it from sitting or kneeling. The remaining length of chain connected, through a long spring, to the cruellest nipple clamp the slave had ever seen - unlike the clover clamps it knew, which simply grew tighter as their chain was pulled, the inner spiked clamp would dig in cruelly whatever happened with the chain. The outer portion, on the other hand, would both tighten and pull away from the other, crushing and stretching the already tortured nipple even further.

Of course, the slave had little time to consider the engineering details if it wanted to avoid further punishment for delaying; tugging hard against the spring to get enough slack, it positioned one nipple between the jaws of pain, then slowly closed them. By hunching over as far as possible, it could minimise the extra pain, and quickly repeated the process on the other side.

At last, the hood - the only part of the slave's punishment costume not designed to hurt it in some way, as far as it could see. Although tight, it slid on quite easily, immediately blocking out all sight, but causing only a moment's panic for the slave as two rubber plugs forced themselves into its nostrils, presumably intended to ensure the hood didn't interfere with its breathing.

A cable on the back connected to the torture bra's control box; as soon as it was plugged in, the plugs filling the slave's eyes came to life, and Mistress's words emerged: 'Good - almost ready. Grab the rope on your hood and pull until you hear a beep.'

Reaching that point took both hands behind its back, a very awkward position to stand in anyway, but when forced to hunch forwards by the nipple chains and held in a half crouch by the hobble chain, almost impossible - but not quite: very little is truly impossible when the slave's only alternative is electrical agony until it complies.

Finally, the cuffs: the lower pair fastened just above the elbows, pulling them back just enough to hurt, then the pair hanging from the posture collar around the wrists, pulling boths arms into a loose reverse prayer position. Never having tried this before, even a 'loose' reverse prayer was agony enough!

"Good slave; I thought you could probably manage it once you had no choice in the matter! Of course, because you failed to provide this yourself, it cost me a great deal of money to set all this up. Don't worry, though, I'm going to let you earn it all back! That's the great thing about the Internet... you can buy or sell almost anything..."

Sell!? The slave suspected it was in far over its head: here it stood in its own bedroom, hobbled, clamped, blindfolded and shackled, with Mistress talking of selling ... the slave itself?! Surely not! Just the slight straightening of its back at this shock cost it dearly, however, as the clamps bit cruelly into its nipples, the hobble chain yanked its balls down and the shifting weight impaled its feet harder on the 'shoes'.

Almost as if she could see the slave's shock and fear through the mask and restraints, Mistress gave a musical, feminine laugh. "Don't worry - I don't mean selling *you*, silly! Not yet, anyway - just selling some of your suffering, to online sadists who will pay handsomely to play with my new paintoy."