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The November evening was unusually mild, more like mid
September. The sky was still high and blue, only beginning to darken with the
first approach of dusk. The air was clean and crisp, and a vague bitter flavor
of decaying leaves was reminiscent of ice-cold Chardonnay.
I was happy that night, knowing that work was over, the weekend was ahead of us, and that I will soon see my King at home.
I stopped at the grocery store and picked up a few things for dinner – veal chops and some Portobello mushrooms, fresh vegetables for the salad, and a crusty French bread. I had a jar of caviar at home that I had bought earlier at the Russian store. My King did not like caviar when he had tried it for first time, but over the course of a year he acquired a taste for this delicacy as I taught him to enjoy it the way it should be enjoyed: on a slice of fresh buttered French bread, preceded by a shot of lemon-flavored vodka straight out of the freezer.
I was smiling to myself as I was thinking about that – his delight when he was eating caviar now was similar to that of a child. I loved this about him – when his big dark eyes sparkled and the smile lit up his face he would look like a little kid. I often imagined what a beautiful child he must have been years ago. Only it was sad too, because he was a little boy growing up in the country that was torn by war, violence and poverty. That past had scarred him in many ways that only I knew about. All the insecurities and fears that my King had were the ghosts of his childhood.
But it didn’t matter now. He was
mine now. And I knew that my love had changed a lot. And my obedience had
really done wonders. I could see the change in him once I agreed to become his
slave. And I loved that change. The greatest thing a woman can do for a man she
really loves is to let him be her
After finishing at the grocery store I went to get 2 bottles of Australian Shiraz and some beer for my King. Loaded with bags, I stepped outside and was immediately tempted to stop a cab that was driving by. I settled in the back seat, told the driver the address and relaxed, thinking about the coming evening, trying to guess what we will do after dinner. Maybe my King would like to go out for a drink, or go to the movies, or maybe rent one and watch it comfortably on the couch, sipping wine and constantly touching, stroking, kissing each other… I was in a good mood – calm and happy, looking forward to spending time at home, actually. Late fall is the time when after the hectic pace of the summer I want to leave the world behind the doors of my home and hibernate. But still it was Friday night, and I was going to be prepared to go out if my King wanted to.
My cell phone started ringing. I glanced at the screen and saw my King’s number.
“Hi, mi amor,” – I started excitedly. Just to hear his voice was happiness.
“Where are you?” – he asked me. He always had to know where I was.
“I am in a cab, I am going home.”
“A cab? Why are you taking a cab?”
“I bought some groceries and the bags were heavy, so I didn’t want to bring them on a bus.”
“I see,” he replied. “So are you going to cook or do you want me to take you out for dinner later?”
“I will cook, baby,” – I said it with a smile. He knew that I loved to cook and that I did it almost every day.
“What are you going to cook for me?” he asked.
“Veal chops with mushrooms, your favorite rice, asparagus and salad.” I dutifully replied. Sometimes I liked to surprise him, but I knew that usually he wanted to know.
“Do you want me to pick up some beer on the way home?”
“I have already done that, mi amor. I got some wine and your beer too.”
“You are a good bitch,” he told me. “Who are you?”
As always, when he told me that I was a good bitch, I felt proud and happy. But to answer his question in a cab, with the bored driver listening probably to my every word, was a little problematic.
“I am in a cab, honey,” I said desperately.
“I know,” he remarked. “ Who are you?”
“You know…” I was still trying to avoid saying it, hoping not to be embarrassed in front of the cab driver.
“Say it, bitch! Say it right now! Who are you?”
His voice was so loud now, I was pretty sure the driver could hear every word. I sighed. There was nothing to lose, really…
“I am your bitch,” I whispered.
“Say it louder, so I can hear!’ my King demanded.
I had no choice. I took a deep breath and said it in a loud and clear voice:
“I am your bitch.” I was looking at the back of the driver’s head and could feel myself blushing. I could be sure he was listening now.
“Are you my pussy?” my King continued, determined to humiliate me further.
I knew better than to answer a simple “yes” and gave him a reply that he wanted and that also shamed me even more.
“I am your pussy.”
“My big cunt?” he asked. A few months ago he told me that mine was a very beautiful pussy. My King told me that I had big, fat lips, and that he could barely cover my pussy with his hand. I wasn’t sure at the time how to take this unusual “compliment”, so I kept asking him if this indeed was something good – to have a “big” pussy. “I’ve fucked many women,” – he told me. – “And some had nothing but a flat space with a slit. You have a gorgeous, fat, big pussy. Huge. Like another wonder of the world. I love it.”
So now I had to reply:
‘Yes, I am your big cunt.”
“How big?”
“Huge,” – I said, blushing even more, although it was probably not possible…
”Are you going to be a good bitch tonight and do everything I say?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?” – Once again, I could hear a stern note in his voice. “You don’t know how to answer my questions properly?”
“I am sorry,” I replied. “I will do everything you say.”
“Good. Because you know what will happen if you don’t. Do you?”
“Yes, I know.” I had gone so far now that I stopped caring about what the stupid driver might think. “You will punish me.”
“That’s right,” my King agreed. “I will be home in about two hours. I want you to cook me a nice dinner, take a shower and dress sexy. Shave, but do not touch your bush. I want you to put on red underwear and red sandals. The rest you can choose yourself. Use a lot of make-up and style your hair nicely. Set the table for us. I will call you right before I get home and I want you waiting for me on your knees in the living room. Don’t say anything when I come home unless I tell you to. Just be a good bitch that you are and take care of your King, and I will reward you later with that big cock that you love so much. If you listen to me and do everything I tell you my cock will always be yours, it will never want another woman. You understand?”
“Yes, my King, I understand.”
My king hung up, and just in time because the driver needed additional directions. I noticed that he kept looking straight ahead of him and didn’t turn to me when asking me a question. Well, it didn’t matter… I told him which building I needed to go to, paid, left a tip and, after collecting my bags, stepped out of the car. Once again I reminded myself that episodes like that should not bother me any more since I could not be embarrassed by such things. I could not be troubled by what people might think. Even when I was not collared and restrained I was still my King’s property and he could claim me and use me any time he wanted.
So I had two hours to get ready and follow all the instructions that my king left for me. I changed into comfortable pants and a t-shirt and went straight to the kitchen to start dinner. I am a good cook and I know how to manage my time so everything comes together at the right moment without hassle, or some things getting overcooked or cold while other dishes are not ready. I laid the table for two people, folding the napkins carefully, arranging the wine glasses and candles. I made the colorful saffron rice since it only needed to be reheated, prepared the meat and mushrooms so later it could be put in the oven for about fifteen minutes, trimmed the asparagus, cut the vegetables for the salad and chopped the garlic. I made the caviar canapés and put a couple of shot glasses and beer mugs in the freezer to chill them well.
Now it was time to take care of myself and I had a little over an hour to do that. I went to draw a fragrant bath with plenty of salts. I allowed myself to relax for a couple of minutes, enjoying the hot water, and then I shampooed my hair and applied some conditioner. I shaved my legs and arms, between my legs and my armpits. I stepped out of the bath feeling fresh, new and full of energy.
I still had plenty of time. I rubbed the delicious moisturizing lotion over my body, paying the special attention to the areas that I had just shaved, dried my dark hair that was getting longer and, while the iron for straightening my stubborn curls was heating up, I went to the bedroom to get dressed. The beginning was simple, because all I had to do was to follow instructions: dark red thong and push-up bra, red sandals with high heels. I studied my reflection in the mirror, pleased with the effect. The high heels made my strong shapely legs seem longer and now that I had to balance my body on the heels my back was arching very nicely, pushing my breasts forward and making my ass protrude more.
Now the rest… I opted for a knee-long skirt with a high slit on the left side that showed off my leg up to the mid thigh. I also selected a black top – simple, trimmed with lace, with long sleeves but a very low neckline. My cleavage looked very tempting thanks to the push-up bra. I took off my necklace to leave my neck bare, waiting for the collar that I knew my King would put on me later. I decided to wear long sparkling earrings that framed my face and stood out against my dark hair, and a matching bracelet on my left wrist.
I ran to the bathroom and straightened my hair, leaving it smooth and shiny, falling to my shoulders and down my back. I used a little more make-up than usual, accentuating my eyes with the eyeliner, shadow and mascara. I knew how much my King liked my eyes and I wanted to make them my best accessory, I wanted them to shine like two dark emeralds on my face. After some blush and lipstick my look was complete. I sprayed on my favorite perfume and glanced at the clock. It was almost time.
I went to the kitchen to put the meat in the oven and then my phone rang.
“Yes, mi amor,” I answered.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
‘Yes, my King.”
“I will be up in a minute.” He told me and hung up.
I ran to the mirror to take one last glance at myself. My King would be happy with his bitch. I looked beautiful, slim in the black clothes, not in the least cheap or trashy but very sexy. I went to the living room, knelt on the rug, put my hands behind my back and started counting the seconds, waiting for my King…
I heard the key in the lock and the voice of my King – he was talking to somebody and laughing. I thought he was saying hi to some neighbors. But then the door opened and I heard the voices right next to me, and then they stopped and I could feel the silence that filled the room and the sound of the door closing. I could just turn and look but I felt paralyzed all of a sudden. I didn’t expect anybody else to come here with my King, and now my heart was beating wildly and I could feel the color rising to my face. I remained on my knees, staring at the same spot on the rug, remembering my King’s instructions not to say anything and be his good bitch.
My King walked over to me and touched my head. I raised my face to him to look him straight in the eyes.
“Bella,” he started. Very rarely he called me by my real name – for him I was “Bella” for beautiful. – “I brought Peter to dinner tonight. You met him before.”
This wasn’t a question, so I didn’t reply, but continued looking my King in the eyes. Of course, I remembered Peter. I saw him once before and I didn’t like him, so after saying “hi” I went to the bedroom and waited there till this guy left. My King was very pleased with me that night and he told me that in the future when somebody comes to see him I would be expected to do the same thing – greet the guest and wait in another room till my King was done with his business and had time for me.
But what was this guy doing here tonight? I didn’t like his face – weak and somehow very unpleasant. My King mentioned a couple of times that Peter was inviting us to a BBQ or out to have a couple of drinks, but I always declined. Recently my King was talking to him more because Peter’s wife left him, or kicked him out of their new house to be more precise, and I guess Peter needed some support or sympathy…
I was confused. Last time my King exposed me like that in front of another person there was a girl that he had brought home in order to see me pleasure her and be humiliated in front of her. This was a long time ago. What could be happening now?!.. A possibility came to my mind that was so terrible that I felt like I was about to start crying. But no, of course this wouldn’t happen! My King was always so jealous of me – he wouldn’t let him touch me. Please, I thought, do whatever you want with me, but don’t let him touch me!
Some of my fear must have shown in my eyes, for my King smiled at me, stroked my face with his hand and said:
“I was telling him how proud you make me. Proud and happy. He just got separated from his wife recently, and I was telling him that he didn’t treat her right and let her become a total bitch. I was also telling him that MY BITCH (he stressed the word “my” and there also was a totally different meaning he put in the word “bitch”) is very well trained, knows her place and behaves very well. Of course he asked me if he could see it himself and I agreed since it is a great pleasure for me as your master to show off such a beautiful perfect pet. Now I know you are nervous around new people, baby, but it’s OK. I am here, and nobody will hurt you. You are a good bitch, I know. It’s OK.”
He talked to me soothingly, like a good master would talk to a dog that was scared of something, and he kept stroking my face and my hair. I felt like my panic was gone and I smiled a little to my King, letting him know that I trusted him and was ready for his next command. Peter meanwhile was totally speechless, still standing by the door and surveying the whole scene that was taking place. Whatever it was that my King had described to him was certainly nothing compared to the real picture in front of him, judging by his reaction.
My King turned to him and said:
“Make yourself at home, man.” After that he sat down on the sofa. I knew what to do next and moved to take off his boots and his socks. I massaged each foot for a few minutes, aware of Peter moving behind my back and then making himself comfortable on another sofa. My King raised his left foot to my face and I started leaking it, trying to pretend that nobody was watching me now. My King gave me his other foot and I licked it too. Then he picked up his socks from the floor and told me:
“Take this to the laundry basket and come right back.”
And here I made a big mistake – I started getting up. The next thing I knew was a hard slap on my cheek.
“Did I tell you that you could walk, bitch? “
I was mortified and flustered, and in order to make things better I whispered:
“I am sorry…”
There was another slap on my cheek, harder this time and very painful. I gasped and looked at my King.
“Are you trying to embarrass me in front of my friend, bitch? After I was telling him how good you are? I will have to punish you; you are forgetting your place. All you have to do is to follow simple instructions. Why are you talking without permission?”
I didn’t say anything this time, just kept looking him in the eyes. I was afraid now – to make another mistake.
He once again held his dirty socks in front of my face.
“Let’s try again. Take this to the laundry basket and come right back.” He said it calmly, without any emotion, and this time I opened my mouth, took the socks in my teeth and crawled to the bedroom. I dropped them in the laundry basket and crawled back to the living room. There I knelt once again at my King’s feet, looking at him and waiting for his next order. I deliberately avoided looking at Peter.
“You can get up now. Go to the kitchen and bring us some beer. Then serve the food. Go.”
I slowly stood up and went to the kitchen. I opened the bottles and poured the beer into the chilled mugs. I put those on a tray, then added two shots of lemon vodka and the plate with caviar canapés. With that I made my way back to the living room and set the drinks on the coffee table in front of my King and his friend.
I went back to the kitchen to get the rest of the food and to put it on the table. Everything was in order – the veal was ready, I just had to arrange everything attractively on the platter and take that along with the salad to the table. After that I went back to take my place at my King’s feet.
“OK, Peter, let’s go and eat,” he said.
They got up and went to the table, carrying their beer with them. I wasn’t given any instructions at that point, but I followed them, crawling behind. If I was my master’s pet, I had to follow him.
They sat down and I knelt next to my master. I was hungry too, but the table was set for two people and besides it was clear that my King would not want me sitting with them and eating like a person. Peter complimented the food, saying that I cooked well. My King agreed and told him that he had been very surprised that I cooked well, since in his experienced most pretty women didn’t.
Throughout the meal my King gave
me pieces of food that I ate gratefully, leaking his fingers clean. Sometimes
he threw pieces of meat on the floor and I had to bend over and eat off the
floor. He was behaving marvelously casual throughout the dinner, chatting with
his friend, as if it was a perfectly normal thing – to have a woman silently
kneeling by his chair waiting for the treats he might give her, licking his
fingers and crawling on the floor to get the food that was being thrown there.
At one point he told me to get some more drinks, but he forbade me to get up,
so I crawled to the kitchen and then came back on my knees, carrying the beers
in my hands. On another occasion he got up and went to the kitchen himself,
opened a bottle of wine and came back with a glass of
”You were right, my friend,” Peter said. “She is amazing.”
“I told you, she is a good bitch.” He looked at me under the table. “Are you?”
I looked up at him adoringly, knowing that this question did not require an answer.
“But how did you get her to be like that?” Peter wanted to know.
“She needed a master, she was very unhappy living her life without one. I just cannot believe her husband who had her for such a long time and didn’t know how to treat this beautiful woman. She had sad eyes before, but look at her now. Bella!” he called and I came out from under the table. “Are you happy, Bella?”
“Yes, my King, I am very happy.”
“Do you like spending your Friday evening like that with me? Or would you rather be doing something else now?” He asked.
“No, my King. Nothing is better than being your bitch.”
I pleased my King with the answer and he started stroking my hair again. The warmth of his big hand was so soothing that I put my head on his lap enjoying the sensation.
“But of course she needed training,” my King went on. “If you want your bitch to behave you have to be firm with her. It is for her good. Still she is not perfect, although she has improved a lot. The reason I used dogs as example and model is because they are so intelligent, easy to imitate and their devotion is amazing. Your dog will never give you attitude; it will always be very happy when you come home, will never nag or complain and, if anything, will only show you affection and obedience. Ideally this is what I want my bitch to be like. She is learning. Both me and her have come a long way…”
They kept chatting like that for a while, consuming the big meal. I was allowed to keep my head on my King’s lap and felt very peaceful, enjoying the warmth of his body, the sound of their quiet voices and the effect of the red wine that I had drunk.
Finally the dinner was over. I felt my King stir and immediately I raised my head, ready for his next order.
“You will clean up later. Follow us to the living room,” he commanded, and I crawled after them into the brightly lit corner with sofas and armchairs. They sat down comfortably, nursing their drinks, and as I assumed that this would be the pace of the evening and was about to settle at my King’s feet, when my Master shocked me with his order:
“Bella, go to the bedroom and insert your anal plug please. Also put two pink cloth pins on each of your pussy lips. Then come back here and bring me your collar and three blue cloth pins.”
I looked at him in disbelief. Never before had anything like that taken place. Nothing like that. I would never even imagine that my King could do that to me. I didn’t mind when he was humiliating and treating me like his bitch earlier. I simply tried to put the presence of his friend out of my mind, pretending that he wasn’t in the room and that everything that was taking place was quite normal. But was he really going to let this horrible guy see me like that, with my body invaded, my most secret opening plugged by a piece of black rubber? I couldn’t carry out this order. There were limits. My King was demanding too much.
I kept staring at him, not sure what to do next. Whatever he had chosen to do to me before, I never questioned the ways he wanted to use my body. I was his slave and everything was acceptable. I had always known that he would never hurt me or cause any damage and that in most of the cases his goal was to bring us mutual satisfaction since I craved and enjoyed humiliation and pain when he delivered it. But now this was going too far…
He kept looking at me expectantly, as if aware of the inner struggle that I was going through.
“Remember what you promised me?” he asked softly. “You are a good bitch, baby. You know how to please your King. You will not disappoint me, will you?”
I knew what I had promised him only too well. Disappointing him… Although it happened once in a while, I never did it intentionally, and I always suffered afterwards when I didn’t meet his expectations. His compliments and praise however were always like music to my ears and made me genuinely happy.
I thought what he was saying a while ago – my obedience was very important to him. I imagined how embarrassed he would feel should I refuse to carry out his order. I had to trust him, to trust his judgment. I was his slave. I had to obey.
I remained silent but I slightly nodded to him to let him know that I understood and will obey. I crawled to the bedroom very aware of Peter’s eyes on me. I was extremely uncomfortable and embarrassed. In fact I was burning with shame.
In the bedroom I got up from hands and knees and walked to the night table where we kept most of the things we needed often – lubricant and restraints, anal plug, ball gag, cloth pins of various colors and sizes. The only thing my King didn’t believe in was using any kind of dildo or vibrator on my pussy. My pussy was for his cock only.
My King didn’t order me to get undressed, so I assumed that I could keep my clothes on. I raised my skirt and pulled down the thong. After that I put a generous amount of lubricant on the anal plug and, bending over the bed and supporting myself with my left hand, I took the anal plug into my right hand and began the unpleasant task of inserting it. Although I had this thing up my ass on numerous occasions, I never got used to the intrusion and in the beginning it was very difficult for me to relax and accept the piece of black rubber in my rectum. Secondly, up to this moment my King always had the pleasure of putting the plug up my ass himself. Today was the first time that I was ordered to do that. And it proved to be more difficult to do it to myself than when I was simply accepting when it was done to me. The tip went in quite easily but then, when the plug thickened, I simply didn’t have the heart to force it in, knowing that this will bring the inevitable pain. I kept applying pressure and increasing my discomfort, but I wasn’t able to say if the plug was moving at all. Then I heard that my King was calling me:
“Bitch, what happened to you? Did you fall asleep?”
“No, my King, it will be just a minute.”
I had no time to lose at this point, or else he might be very angry with me. With sudden determination, I took a deep breath and pushed the plug in, moaning in pain, till it was firmly in place. The pain was strong but not unbearable, so I straightened out, wiped the excessive lube off my hands and my ass with a towel and pulled up my thong. Quickly, I reached in the drawer for the cloth pins. There were about ten of each kind, all plastic – yellow, which were not very painful when applied. They caused more of a dull sensation that I found quite stimulating. I loved to have them on my nipples and even my clit sometimes. My King often put them on my pussy lips when I was sleeping since he liked when I slept with my legs open, totally exposing my pussy to him in the night. He didn’t want to restrain me for this purpose since he wanted me to learn to do it naturally. Sleeping with these cloth pins proved to be very successful since they allowed me to fall asleep and provided pleasant sexual stimulation, but could cause discomfort and pain if I tried to close my legs firmly.
The pink cloth pins were stronger and although I could tolerate them on my pussy lips, I found it very uncomfortable when they were attached to my clit or nipples. Yet I could take it for a while without whimpering or begging my King for mercy. This was the kind we used most often.
Blue cloth pins were vicious nasty little things indeed. My King didn’t use them very often since they hurt me a lot. They caused noticeable pain in my pussy lips and as far as being able to tolerate them on my clit and nipples I only had a taste of this once and certainly wasn’t looking for more. I was restrained and gagged the night my king pinched my most private and sensitive body parts with these things, I was suffocating with the unbearable pain and screaming through the gag. He was punishing me for bad behavior – I had given him some attitude earlier – and he was experimenting with this pins. Depending on how much of my flesh he would grab between the sharp teeth of these extra tight pins, he could ether ease my pain a little bit or cause me pure agony. I was about to faint by the time he was done with me, my nipples and clit were red, swollen and sore for days after that punishment session.
I picked up two pink pins and put one on each of my pussy lips, on each side of my thong. I felt the immediate painful tugging that wasn’t too bad yet. But I knew only too well that it will increase in just a few minutes.
I pulled the skirt back down and picked up the last three dreaded blue pins and the collar with the attached leash. Did my King order me to put it on or to bring it? In my nervous state I couldn’t remember exactly. Yet I thought that he had told me to bring it.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked good, only my cheeks were flushed. I was nervous, very apprehensive and even scared. Deeply humiliated as well.
I am his bitch, I reminded myself. I will not disappoint my King. If anything, I will make him proud.
I put the leash and the collar between my teeth, took two cloth pins in my right hand, one in my left, and lowered myself to the floor.
As I started crawling back to the living room, I promised myself that whatever awaited me there, I would take it well.
To be continued.
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