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Chapter 6
The
following morning you wake with a stinking hangover. You open your bloodshot eyes slowly, the
bright daylight coming through the windows blinding you. Looking around you have
no idea where you are. When you see your
trousers and boots your first thought is that you have been on exercise with
the Navy somewhere and that after a night out drinking you have ended up back
at some girl’s house. You gingerly get
up from the sofa trying to avoid making your headache worse, and going out into
the hallway stumble up the stairs to find the bathroom. You have a piss and then go to the sink. Filling the basin with cold water you splash
it over your face to try and clear your head.
Looking in the mirror the first thing you notice is the collar around
your neck and the scratches on your face.
Wha the hell? (What the hell?) In your
hung-over mind you can’t work out how on earth you ended up with a collar round
your neck and scratches down your face. Was ik betrokken
in een geile sex sessie gisteravond? (Was I involved in a kinky sex session last night?) Your throbbing cock tells you that
you must have been. Shit, ik moet
de halsband afdoen voordat ik naar
het schip terugkeer. Wanner mijn vreinden dit zien, nemen
ze me in de maling, en ben ik de lul
bij de commandant. Ik
moet het meisje zien te vinden
waarmee ik naar huis ben geweest, zodat
ik de sleutel
Your head feels as if it is about to explode with pain. Ik moet teveel hebben gedronken,
ik
A couple of hours later you awake. Your headache has subsided slightly and you
can think a bit more clearly. Lying on
the bed, looking around you realise that this room looks really familiar. Your eyes soon settle on a photo of an
attractive woman with long blonde hair.
The realisation of who the photo is of hits you like a thunder
bolt. With a sick feeling in your
stomach you climb off the bed. You
remember where you are and what you are.
You also remember that you overpowered me but can’t recall what happened
after. You assume we had sex because
your dick is sore but apart from that you don’t know what you did or where I am
now.
You walk slowly downstairs to the kitchen hoping that I will
be there waiting for you, but the room is empty. The living room and study are also empty. Opening the front door you can clearly see my
car sitting in the driveway. I haven’t
gone out. With a sinking feeling you
walk downstairs to the cellar. With a
shaking hand you open the door and turn on the light. The sight that awaits you
makes you want to be sick. Alstublieft, vertel me dat
ik fat niet gedaan heb! (Please tell me I didn’t do that!) As you cautiously step closer to me you can
see the bloody welts all over my back and buttocks. I am not moving and you are terrified that I
am dead. You touch my face relieved that
my skin is still warm. Thank God I’m not
dead but you are horrified at what you have obviously done to me. No matter how badly I have treated you, you
have been brought up by your parents to always respect women. You have never hit a woman in your life, let
alone beaten one almost to death. You
stand up and frantically start looking for the keys to the padlocks so that you
can release my legs from their torturous position. Shit, waar heb ik ze
gelaten ??
(Shit, where did I
leave them?) After ages of
searching the floor and in the cupboard you remember that they are in your
trouser pocket. With shaking hands you
remove the padlocks and take the cuffs off my ankles. Then you remove the handcuffs and carefully
remove the butt plug. You feel sick that
you actually forced that into me. Waar
was ik in vredesnaam naar aan het
denken ?
(What on earth was I thinking of?) You are so ashamed at what you have
done.
As you lean over to remove the gag from my mouth I start to
wake up and when my brain registers where I am and I open my eyes to see you
kneeling in front of me I instinctively try and move away from you, but I don’t
have the strength to move. I start
crying again and my body shakes with pain and the fear of seeing you.
‘Please Tracey, don’t be afraid. I am not going to hurt you. I am so sorry for what I did to you. I beg you to forgive me.’
When you try to remove the gag I shrink from your
touch. I am absolutely terrified and
seeing what you have done to me breaks your heart. You never meant any of this to happen. All you wanted to do was change the way I
treated you.
‘Tracey, I need to remove the gag, I will not hurt you I
promise’.
I lie still while you remove it. Then you notice that I also have clamps on my
nipples. Jezus, wat heb ik
nog meer
gedaan?
(Christ, what
else have I done?) You know that they are really painful and I have
never put them on you for very long periods at a time, but I have had them on
for several hours. You apologise again
and again as you take them off, but I don’t hear what you are saying. My mind is too occupied with the searing pain
brought on by the blood flowing back to my nipples. Sobbing in agony I dare not move incase the
pain intensifies. Wishing with all your
heart that you could take the pain away for me you lift me gently into your
arms and hold me until my body relaxes showing that the pain is subsiding. Then you carry me to your bed and gently lay
me down on it. You realise that I must
desperately need a drink so running quickly to the kitchen you fetch a glass of
water. When you return I’m struggling to
stand, the only thought in my head to try and get away from you. My legs are so unsteady that they refuse to
support me when I stand up. Collapsing
back onto the bed my head droops in defeat.
‘Please Tracey; you don’t need to fear me. I am not going to hurt you. Here, I have brought you some water. Please drink it; it will help you feel
better.’
When I make no move to take the glass from you you raise it to my lips holding it while I sip from
it. When the glass is half empty you put
it on the floor by your bed and go to look for some ointment to put on my
wounds. You know that I have some
because I used it on you, the first time I whipped you really badly. You find it in the bathroom cabinet. This time when you return I am lying on the bed curled into a ball facing the wall.
‘Tracey I am going to bathe your wounds now. It will sting a bit but I will try not to
hurt you.’
I do not acknowledge that I have heard you, my mind is in a
different place, outside the pain my body is
suffering.
Being careful to be gentle you first remove as much dried
blood as you can with a cloth and warm water.
When you are done you apply the ointment knowing that it will sting as
it seeps into the open wounds. Again
there is no response from me as my mind in shock has blocked the physical
trauma.
When you have finished you kneel by
the side of the bed, stroking my hair and face until I fall asleep. Hoe vreemd
As you kneel beside the bed, you don’t know if you can ever
forgive yourself for what you have done.
How can it be, that drinking wine can turn you into such a monster. However, you know in your heart that it is
not just the alcohol that made you do it. It was the horror of being kidnapped
and sold as a slave and then being beaten and abused by a Meesteres who despite
her treatment of you has cast a spell over you.
But you also know that it is no excuse for what you have done and you
make a promise to yourself that you will devote yourself to looking after me
while I recover from the whipping, and after that you do not know what will
happen, your freedom is important but you dare not leave until I am recovered,
and by then it may be too late.
First of all you know that you need to move me, the cellar
is too cold and the bed far too hard for me to be comfortable. Lifting me into your arms again you carry me
upstairs to my bedroom and lay me on my bed.
Then you go to the bathroom to look for some painkillers but can’t find
anything. You know from your own
experience that once I wake up again I will be in agony. You realise that you are going to have to
leave the house and find a shop to get some tablets for the pain. You find my purse on the hall table next to
my car keys. Taking some cash and the
keys you once again leave the house.
It feels strange sitting in the car again. So much has happened since the last time you
sat in it. The thought crosses your mind
that perhaps you should just run away.
By the time I am well enough to hunt you down; you will be far away and
hopefully will have managed to remove your slave collar so that I never find
you. You are desperate to return home
and see your family, but you know that the only reason you are at this moment
free is because of the terrible things you have done to me. You know that you will never be able to live
with your conscience if you walk away now, and leave me lying alone in that
dreadful state.
So you start the car and drive around looking for a shop to
buy the tablets. Driving is difficult
because you have never driven on the left hand side of the road before and all
the controls in the car are on the opposite side. But after a while and a couple of times of
stalling the engine you finally get the hang of it. Eventually you find a pharmacy and park the
car outside. You are nervous about going
into the shop because everyone will be able to see your collar and the
scratches on your face. You are not sure
if I was telling the truth when I said that in
You approach the service counter and are so nervous that you
ask in your own language for some painkillers.
‘Sorry mevrouw,
heeft u voor mij wat pillen
voor de hoofdpijn ?’
(Excuse me Ma’am I would like some headache tablets please)
The woman serving at the counter stares at you both in
amazement at your clothes and curiousness about what language you are
speaking. You can feel yourself turning
red with embarrassment as she stares at your too tight T-shirt and the silver
collar around your neck.
‘That’s an unusual necklace you’re wearing love’ she says
‘are you gay or something? You must be a
poof because only gays where t-shirts that tight’.
You can’t believe she is so rude as to say something like
that to a total stranger, and why does she call you ‘love’ when you don’t even
know her? English people are very
strange you think.
‘Hang on a minute love, I’ve just worked it out, you’re not
gay, you’re a sissy slave aren’t you?
Who do you belong to and what country are you from?’
Without waiting for an answer she continues ‘It’s unusual to
see a slave wearing men’s clothes though.
The ones who come in here usually wear short skirts, stockings and high
heeled shoes. Their owners like them to
be sissys, but I guess your owner hasn’t got that far
with you yet. You must be a new
slave’.
Before you have a chance to say anything she carries on ‘so
which slave market did you end up at then?
It’s unusual to see a white slave in
Jezus! Engeland vind het goed
dat vrouwen slaven houden. Er is niks aan
te doen
om te ontsnappen
tot ik die halsband af
As soon as she gives you the tablets you run out of the shop
and stand outside for a moment trying to calm down. Gebeurt dit mij steeds, elke keer als ik uit
ga? (Is
this going to happen to me every time I go out in public?). Standing there you notice a men’s clothing shop across the road. You check to see how much money you have left
and find there is nearly £20. Perhaps
you can buy a jumper or shirt that will hide the collar round your neck. Although the thought of going through the
same humiliation in yet another shop is not pleasant you know that you can not
walk around the town as you are at the moment, people are looking at you and
some girls are openly laughing. But if
what the woman in the shop said about slaves is true, why haven’t you seen any
others? You don’t have time to think
about that now though, you need to change your top and get home before I wake
up again.
You do go through the same humiliation in the clothes shop
but this time it is a guy who serves you making it even more embarrassing. Choosing a high neck jumper you cautiously
approach the counter to pay. The guy
serving drops his jaw in amazement.
‘Well hello ducky, aint you just a
fine specimen, but I have to say darling that t-shirt is way too tight on you!
Why don’t you let me measure that fine chest of yours and see if I can find
something more suitable for you?’
The guy is so openly gay it makes you cringe, and the thought
of him touching you is disgusting.
Blushing bright red you stammer ‘please Sir I wish to pay
for this jumper.’
He seems delighted that he has made you blush, and clapping
his hands in glee he starts laughing.
After the humiliation in the last shop on top of all that
has happened in the last few hours you are at breaking point. Losing your temper you shout ‘just take the
money for the bloody jumper for fucks sake!’
He stops laughing and leaning over puts his face close to
yours. ‘Who the fuck
do you think you’re talking to, bitch? You call me Sir when you speak to
me. Now kiss my arse and ask me
nicely. If you don’t I will call the
police, who in turn will inform your Owner, and then you will be fucked in more
ways than one slave bitch.’
Turning round he bends over waiting. Jezus hij maakt geen
grapje! (Jesus he isn’t joking!) If he calls the police
you are in deep shit if they find me in the state I’m in, but you can’t kiss
another guy’s arse! The humiliation!
What if he makes you suck his cock!! Shit. But what will happen if you refuse? Do they execute slaves in
He gives you the jumper, laughing at you as he does so and
giving you a quick slap across the backside as you turn to rush out of the shop
with the sound of his laughter ringing in your ears.
Standing outside you quickly put the jumper on, immediately feeling
less noticeable. Giving yourself a
couple of minutes to calm down you look around you observing the passersby and noting that this time no one appears to be
taking any notice of you. Spotting a pub
just down the street you realise you could desperately do with a drink after the
humiliation you have suffered in both shops and the shattering news that you
are a real slave and not just a kidnap victim. You are torn between your obligation
to return to the house to look after me and your need for a drink. After pondering your dilemma for a few
minutes you decide that I will probably still be
asleep and that it will be ok to have a quick drink in a pub before returning
home. After all, this may be your last
chance to enjoy anything like a normal and free life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The pub is busy and as you walk through the door the
atmosphere of people laughing and enjoying themselves hits you,
and you are immediately taken back to previous times when you have been in pubs
just like this with your friends. Many
memories of happy times come flooding back to you and you are frozen to the
spot. Maybe this isn’t a good idea. You no longer have that free and happy life
anymore. Having a drink in this pub will
make it more difficult for you to accept all that you have lost. But before you can turn around and leave you
feel a hand on your arm and realise that an attractive young woman is talking
to you. Bringing your mind back to the
present you try to focus on what she is saying.
‘Hello, its
Seeing your puzzled look she explains ‘I’m Chrissie, we met
in one of the pubs when your ship was in the harbour for a several weeks. Remember there was a crowd of us girls out,
we met you and your friends and we all ended up spending the evening together. You got really friendly with Tracey last time
you were here. Is your ship back in the
harbour, or have you just come back on holiday to spend some time with Tracey?’
You are so surprised at meeting someone who knows you and is
a good friend of mine that you don’t know what to say. She obviously doesn’t know that you are my
slave and you wonder why I haven’t told her.
But before you can reply she drags you to the bar to buy a drink. Your mind spins as you try and think of a
story to tell her about why you are here.
You can’t think of anything that doesn’t sound like a lie so you just
tell her that yes, you have come back with the ship but that you haven’t seen
me.
‘Oh good’, she says.
‘If you’re not dating Tracey this time then you are free to see me. I fancied you when I first met you, but
unfortunately Tracey got there first. I was
so jealous when she told us all how fantastic you were in bed. She said you can do the most amazing things
with your tongue to a girl’s pussy. I
hope that tonight you will perform as amazingly for me. I expect to have at least 5 orgasms from your
tongue alone!’
You are absolutely horrified and can feel your face burning
with embarrassment. How can she brazenly
tell you she wants sex from you? Are all
English girls tarts? But casting your mind back you remember how difficult it
was trying to get me into bed when we first met. I spurned your advances so many times you
started to think there was either something wrong with you or I was frigid. But when it finally happened it was worth the
wait. Underneath the shy and quiet exterior lay a woman so passionate it blew
you away. You fell quickly in love and
to your deep regret threw it away when you couldn’t cope with your feelings.
You jump as her hand unexpectedly squeezes your groin. You have no idea how you are going to get out
of the situation without causing a scene in front of other people and without
upsetting my friend. You lift your glass
from the bar and swallow half the pint of beer in one go as you try to work out
a plan. It is very difficult to think
properly though because she has undone your fly and her hand is now inside your
combat trousers and playing with your cock and balls. She must be aware that you are wearing silk
panties but she doesn’t say anything, just continues to stroke your shaft which
is now rock hard inside your trousers. You
look around but no one seems to have noticed what she is doing. You can’t believe that she is doing this to
you in a public place. You want to stop
her, but you can’t deny the immense pleasure you are feeling in your
groin. She pulls your cock out of your
trousers and starts jerking you off faster and faster until you explode. Your cum shoots so
high that some of it lands on your face.
Just as you are thinking that you can’t believe what she has just done
to you in front of a pub full of people, she leans over and licks the cum from
your face with her tongue, and smiling at you replaces your cock inside your
silky briefs and zips up your fly.
As you stand there in total shock she reaches her arm around
your neck to pull you forward to kiss you, but stops with a puzzled look on her
face when she feels that you are wearing some sort of collar or necklace
underneath your jumper. You quickly come
back to reality and grab her arm before she is able to put her hand under the
neck of the jumper to feel the collar properly.
But it is too late, she has realised you are wearing a slave collar.
‘Well well well
You are so shocked you just stand there looking at her, not
knowing what to say.
‘Well
You realise that there is no possible escape for you at
all. You may as well answer her
questions, although you daren’t tell her the whole truth, and then you can make
your excuses to return to the house as quickly as possible. What a huge mistake it was to go to the
pub! You should have learnt your lesson
from the last time, when you managed to get yourself kidnapped!
‘Ok I will tell you, I belong to Meesteres Tracey. As a reward for being a good slave, she has
allowed me to come the pub for one drink and I must then return home immediately,
but I was under strict instructions not to reveal that I am a slave, because
that could get Meesteres Tracey into trouble with the police, so please do not
reveal to her that I have told you or I will be punished’.
You can see the look of disappointment on her face as she
realises I own you, because she knows there is no possibility that I would sell
you to her. Although the thought does
cross her mind that maybe I will lend you to her for the odd night of pleasure.
But she decides that she may as well get some pleasure from you now before you
return to me, just incase I won’t share you.
After all if you don’t want me to find out about the pub incident she is
sure you aren’t going to reveal that she has used you for her own pleasure.
‘Well
Knowing that you have no choice you allow her to pull you by
your cock, which she has again taken out of your trousers while she was talking
to you, out of the pub and into the car park.
She pulls you to her car and makes you kneel on the ground while she
opens the passenger door. She pushes the
seat back as far as it will go and then reclines the backrest so that she can
lie down. You are really ashamed
kneeling there in full view of other people who might walk by. You haven’t been a slave long enough to be
used to the humiliation, and so far, since you have been in England you have
never been out in public as a slave. You
keep your head down looking at the ground desperately hoping no one sees you.
When she is ready, lying on her back with her legs spread
wide and her pussy open to you, she tells you to climb in the car and crouch in
the footwell.
This isn’t easy, as you remember from when I made you sit on the floor
of the car. Eventually you squeeze
yourself into the small space and squat down facing Chrissie. She pulls herself further down the seat so
that she can rest her feet on the dashboard.
Then grabbing your hair she pulls your face in tight to her pussy. Without further prompting, you start to
gently lick her genitals and around the tops of her thighs. She tastes completely differently to me and
you do not like it because you are so used to my taste. You also realise that she hasn’t washed down
there today and you are sure you can taste stale semen, which makes you want to
gag. But you know that you have no
choice. If you don’t pleasure her, she
may drive to the house and find me lying whipped on the bed, and then your life
will not be worth living – that is if you are allowed to live. So much as it disgusts you, you bite and suck
and lick her until she explodes with cum all over your face. Some of it goes up your nose and in your
eyes, making you feel sick, but you can’t wipe it away because she is still
holding you by the hair and pulling your face into her pussy. Three more times you are forced to make her
orgasm before she is satisfied. The
whole time you are trying to ignore the cramps in your legs from being forced
into a squatting position for so long. o alstublieft.., laat dit snel
voor bij zijn (Please God let this be over soon.)
Eventually when she has had enough of you, she kicks you out
of the car with the parting comment ‘Well sissy boy Roy, Tracey was right, you
are fucking amazing at oral sex. I think
I might drop by her house sometime for a repeat performance. Now get straight
home before you get into trouble!’
Then she drives off with squealing tyres leaving you lying
on the floor of the car park…..
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