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# I was feeling a little melancholy. I had been pretty busy since moving from my small town in down state Indiana to the north suburbs of Chicago. I hadn’t had a lot of time to get lonely but tonight was different, it was my 31rst. birthday and I had no one to celebrate with. Everyone I knew, including my ex-wife of 3 years, was back in Indiana. I decided to drown my sorrows in a couple of cold beers and left for a little dive I’ve seen a few miles from my house.
I had been there about an hour and had decided to finish by 2nd. beer and go home when a beautiful, sophisticated woman sat next to me at the bar.
“You look a little down,” she said, “drinking your cares away?” She wasn’t what you would call gorgeous but she was elegant looking. She had a small frame, in fact, her body didn’t really fit her face. I guess her to be about 22 or 23 years old.
“No, not really,” I said, “I actually moved here about a year ago but I’ve been busy and haven’t had time to make many friends. Today’s my birthday and I just don’t have anyone to celebrate it with.”
“Well buy me a drink and I’ll toast to your birthday.”
“Bartender, would you give the lady what ever she wants, please.”
“Make it glass of white wine, please.” She looked at me and smiled. “Thank you.” The bartender brought a glass of white wine and set it in front of her.
“I’m sorry ma’am, before I can give this to you I need to see an ID.” She smiled.
“Well thank you,” she said, still smiling, “I don’t usually get carded any more, I was getting worried.” She pulled her wallet from her purse and showed her ID to the bartender. He nodded his head in approval and walked to the other end of the bar. She picked up the glass of wine and held it up in a mock toast in my direction.
“To reaching 31 and still keeping out of jail,” she said with a smile. I thought it was cute. I had no idea that toast would be very significant in any week. “So, what do you do for living,” she said as she lifted the glass to her lips.
“I’m an artist.”
“Wow, a starving artist.” That was really not the case, I made good money and I wasn’t going to let this elegant woman think she made more money than me.
“Well, I’m not exactly starving,” I said, I teach art at the university.
“Ah, a wannabe artist.” I knew she was referring to the old adage, “those who can do, those who can’t teach”. That’s insulting to any teacher.
“No,” I said rather indignant, “I made a living with my art long before teaching. Actually the teaching part is why I moved here. The university made me such a lucrative offer I couldn’t pass it up. I still paint thought. I’ve been working in watercolors for many years. All year long, while teaching during the day, I paint at night. By the end of the school year I have so much work framed up and ready to sell, I spend my summer going to the various art shows around the country. I did pretty good this last summer, I cleared over $100 grand.” She seemed to sit up a little straighter after I told her that. “I also do some assignment work for a couple of magazine publications and have several galleries around that sell prints from my work. All toll, with what the university pays me, I grossed a little over four hundred thousand last year.” I knew a caught her attention with that. She seemed genuinely impressed.
We talked some more. She told me her name was Jean Anderson. She was on her way to a new job in L.A. from back east but stopped along the way to visit some college friends. She had a motel room just up the road and, before I knew it, I was in my car following her back to the motel.
Once inside her room it was like a scene from an adult movie. She didn’t like the lights on but, instead, lit several candles in the room. I hated that, I was hoping to get a much better look of her naked body.
“Have you ever done anything kinky in the bedroom,” she asked with a sly little grin.
“Kinky, like what”
“I like to be tied up,” she said. “I like to have my hands and feet tied to the bed then get fucked....hard.”
This was the first time I heard any rough language come out of her mouth all night. “Well,” I said, “to tell you the truth I’ve never done anything like that but I certainly have had some fantasies along those lines. I don’t have any rope though.”
She smiled as she started walking to the little table beside the bed. “This is your lucky day,” she said. She opened a drawer and pulled out 4 lengths of rope. “You think you’re up to this,” she said. I just smiled. My mind was starting to spin with all kind of fantasies. “I want you to tie me up spread eagle with each hand tied to the headboard and my ankles tied to the corners of the bed. This I want you to give it to me hard, the harder the better.” She started to remove her clothes. I took the cue and started getting undressed myself.
The next couple of hours were unbelievable. She kept yelling harder, harder. My cock was almost raw by the time I was done. I had never cum so hard or so many times. It was incredible. At the end of the evening I got dressed and left for home. I tied to get some sleep but she was all I could think of. She was the most exciting woman I had ever met.
The next day I took my first free period and called the motel but found she had already checked out. Damn! I’ll never see her again. Now I was really depressed. The rest of the week went with out incident. I tried to paint after school to try and get my mind off of her but my mind kept going back to that night.
It was late Friday afternoon, the entire week had passed and I was determined to use the week-end to paint. I got home, kicked of my shoes, and thought I would relax in my favorite easy chair for a few minutes before fixing myself something to eat. I had no other plans except to start preparing some watercolor paper so I can start painting first thing tomorrow. Just as I got comfortable the door bell rang. I opened the door to find a young lady standing on the porch with a large manila envelope in her hand.
“Can I help you,” I said.
“Mr. Janis?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Bridget Sir, I have some important papers for you to look at, may I come in.” Now I’m not in the habit of letting young girls into my house. She looked like she was about 14 or 15. She had black hair and dressed a little Goth. She looked slightly familiar but I couldn’t quite place her. She looked harmless enough though. “Sure,” I said, “come on in.”
She stepped inside and I closed the door. “Come on in,” I said again as I turned and walked into the living room. “Have a seat.” I gestured to a chair.
“Thank You,” she said while sitting.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“No thanks,” she said, “I just had a can of pop at the police station.”
“Police station,” I said with surprise, “What is this about anyway?” She handed me the envelope.
“Mr. Janis, if you look inside here I think you’ll understand.” I opened the envelope and removed the papers inside. “What’s this, “ I asked, “it looks like a police report?”
“It is Mr. Janis, it’s a police report from my rape.”
“Rape! I’m sorry.”
“Not nearly as sorry as you’re going to be. Go ahead, read it. It explains how this guy drove up to me on the street pretending to ask a question. When got closer to the car he grabbed me and pulled me in. He told me if I tried to run he’d kill me. I’m not sure where he took me but he tied my hands and feet to the bed. You can see the photos of marks the rope left on my wrists and ankles. Then he tore my clothes off of me and raped me. There’s some pictures of my torn clothes. Luckily he ejaculated inside of me so they have his DNA.”
“I’m very sorry Miss but what does this have to do with me?” She smiled slightly.
“Take a look at the kind of car the guy had,” she said. I look around for the make of car on the report.
“A Jaguar,” I said out loud. That’s the kind of car I have I thought. I looked and saw she had 3 numbers from the license plate. They also matched mine.
“What the heck’s going on here,” I asked. I was starting to get nervous.
“Not only is it your car that I described, but it’s your DNA.” Now I was really shocked and I guess I didn’t hide it very well. She chucked to herself.
“That’s not possible,” I said now starting to sweat.
“Let me ask you a question,” she said, “are you a starving artist or a wannabe?” It suddenly hit me, the girl from the bar, but that’s impossible. She was 22 or 23 yrs. old, this girl is only about 15. Could it be her younger sister. My head was spinning around a million miles an hour. Why would someone want to frame him for rape. This whole thing can’t be happening.
“You can’t be her, she was much older than you.”
“Really, you want me to show you the bruises you made fucking me, they’re still there. As for the age, hell, a fake ID cost a hundred bucks and you can get them all over. I’m really only 15 years old and that’s statutory rape anywhere. You could go to prison for a very, very long time. It’s easy. You can’t believe this is happening can you? Let me assure you, it is. And now I guess I’ll call the cops and tell them I saw your car again and give them the rest of the license number.”
“Wait, please,” I said with panic in my voice, “what do you want, why would you do this to me?” There was that sly smile again. She sat back comfortably against the back of the chair.
“Well now, it sounds like you finally are starting to realize the predicament you’re in. So here it is, you will do everything I say without exception. From here on in I own you....completely. You will become, literally, my slave or you will go to jail, the choice is yours.” All I could do was think about that night, how great it was, and how it may ruin the rest of my life.
“Why all the hesitation honey, as I see it, you have no choice.” Try as I did to quickly think of a way out of this, I couldn’t. I knew she had me and there was nothing I could do about it, at least not for right now.
“OK,” I said extremely reluctantly, “what do you want me to do.” A big smile came over her face.
“First, unless I tell you differently, you will address me as Mistress Bridget.” I couldn’t believe I had to call such a young girl mistress. This was obscene. I had fantasized sometimes about this kind of relationship but I was always the one with the power, I was always the dominant one. I never thought as myself as the least bit submissive. “Just to clear up any ideas you might have to the contrary, again, I own you. You are now my property. I will do what I want, when I want, because I want and you will simply say yes Mistress. Is that perfectly clear?”
My mouth was dry as a bone and I was starting to shake from nerves. I knew I had to say it but I could barely get the words out.
“Yes Mistress.”
“Good. See we’re making progress already. Now stand up and strip naked. immediately,” she said with a new found voice of authority. My legs were weak but I managed to stand up. Damn, this seemed unbelievably wrong undressing in front of this young girl. Yes, I knew she had already seen me naked in the motel but that was when I thought she was in her twenties. I have never, in my life, felt so ashamed, nor had I ever felt so helpless.
Chapter 2.
I started to unbutton my shirt. “Quickly,” she said, “I want you naked, now.” I hurried and got my shirt off. Next I unbuckled my belt, pulled my zipper down and started pulling down my pants. From there I immediately pulled my jockey shorts down. When I did by cock came flying out and bobbed in the air. I was hard as a rock. A drop of pre-cum hung on the tip. My mind had been in such turmoil I hadn’t even realized I was hard. This was even more embarrassing than standing naked in front of a 15 yr. old girl. Gad, how could I be hard! What’s wrong with me, am I honestly getting off on this? Bridget broke out laughing when she saw my hard cock. “Come on,” she said, “hurry up and finish getting those things off.” I stepped out of both my pants and shorts at the same time. The only thing left were my socks. I reached over as I pulled each foot up and removed my socks. There I was, standing naked, helpless. I never felt so vulnerable. “Down on your hands and knees,” she said pointing down at the floor. I did as I was told. “Now crawl,” again pointing to a spot on the floor in front of her. I could feel my hard cock bounce up and down as I crawled. I was mortified. Bridget leaned forward and slapped my face hard. I could feel the warmth as the blood returned to my cheek. “If you have any doubts that I own you, you will forget them shortly.” She stood up and hovered over me. “I’ll be right back, do not move a muscle.” With that she walked over to the front door and opened it. She reached around the corner a picked up a bag that she evidently left there before coming. She reached in and brought a pair of handcuffs out. “Put your hands behind your back and put these on,” she said throwing them on the floor in front of me.
Now I was really nervous putting these on. Having both hands immobilized behind my back and allowing this young girl the upper hand physically was giving me all kinds of images. The problem was I had no choice. I straightened myself up a little and reached around behind me to fasten the cuffs. Bridget smiled and said, “Now turn around and face me.” I did as I was told. She reached into the bag again and, this time, pulled out a digital camera. Before I realized what has happening she clicked off several pictures of me, naked, on my knees, stiff cock and all.
“Please, why are you doing this to me,” I begged to know. Bridget suddenly looked angry. She walked up in front of me and slapped me again, this time much harder than before. I lost my balance and felt back onto my feet.
“You stupid, fuckin slave. I guess I’m going to have to go over some of the basic rules with you since you’re too stupid to know any better. First, you never, never, never speak unless I ask you a direct question that demands an answer. If the question can be answered with a, “yes Mistress, “ or “No Mistress,” that is the way you will answer. Is that clear shithead?”
“Yes Mistress,” was my retort.
“Good! Right now that’s the only rule you have to worry about. Oh, don’t worry, there will be many more rules and you will comply with them to the letter or you will be severely. Do you understand slave?”
“Yes Mistress.”
“See, you’ve already memorized the first rule. So far so good.” Bridget walked up and stood in front of me again. “Close your eyes,” she demanded. I could hear her pull down the zipper of her pants. “Stick out your tongue and start licking, no peeking. If you open your eyes I’ll whip the shit out of you.” I could smell her. I knew she was standing only inches from my face. She may have been 15 but she smelled like a woman. I stuck out my tongue and felt her pubic hair. She grabbed the back of my head pulled it into her pussy. “Start licking ass hole.”
I started to lick. I could feel her moist warmth. I was wishing I could open my eyes but didn’t dare. I could feel my own cock straining not I’ve never felt it before. I was so hard it hurt. I kept licking and could feel her getting wetter. I searched for clit. I could tell by her moan I had found it. I could feel her start to tense and new she was about to explode. I started licking faster. Suddenly she pulled my head into her tighter. I couldn’t breath. Her body was totally rigid and I could feel her gushing her love juice. It was shooting into my mouth and over my lips. All I could do was swallow what I could.
Her body finally started to relax and I gasped for a breath. That seemed to amuse her. She pulled my head away from her body. I wanted to open my eyes and see her wonder, little pussy again, I hadn’t seen it since that night and she had it so dark I didn’t really get a good look at it.
Oh, it just struck me. That’s why she had it so dark, so I wouldn’t suspect she wasn’t as old as I thought she was. Dummy me, I should have suspected something then.
“Oh,” she said, “I’m going to like having you as my slave.” I heard her pulling her zipper back up. When she was all dressed she order me to open my eyes again.
“OK, we have a lot to do,” she said, “put your clothes back on, everything except your shorts of course,” she smiled that evil little smile again, “you’re never going to wear those again.” I put my shirt on then pulled my pants back up. I was not used wearing pants without shorts under them, it was strange to feel the fabric of the trousers on my ass. My cock was still stiff as a board and also rubbed against the fabric. It was also very easy to see my hard-on from the outside. I sat down and put my shoes and socks back on. “Who gave you permission to sit down,” I heard her say.
“I’m sorry, I just thought it was OK in order to put my socks and shoes on.”
“I’m sorry What!”
“Oh, I’m sorry Mistress.” She had a very stern look on her face. It actually scared me.
“Let me make this perfectly clear,” there was that commanding voice again, “you don’t do anything without my permission, hear me, NOT ANYTHING!”
“I’m sorry Mistress,” I said bowing my head.
“Give me the keys to your Jaguar, I’ll drive.” With those words I actually forgot my predicament. No one drives my Jaguar but me I thought. I totally forgot my place and raised my voice.
“You’ll drive? Do you even have a driver’s lic...” Before I could finish my sentence this little 15 year old girl turned around swinging her right hand and, with a resounding “Whack”, connected right on the left side of my face. It took me so by surprise it actually knocked me off my feet and I found myself on the floor looking up at her.
“DON’T YOU EVERY TALK TO ME IN THAT TONE AGAIN OR YOU’LL BE IN JAIL INSIDE OF AN HOUR AND I MEAN IT.” She almost looked like a wild person. “Yes, I have a driver’s license and, from now on, that Jaguar is mine. I’ll drop you off at work every day and take the car for myself. Now, get the fuck off the floor and get your ass out there while I’m still in a good mood and let you wear clothes.”
My cheek was burning from the power of her slap. I obediently followed her demands. I really hated the fact that she was going to drive my Jag but I was in no shape to complain right now. I handed her the keys. “Give me your wallet too.” I reached into my pocket and handed her my wallet with no hesitation this time and followed her out the door to the car. As I got into the passenger’s side of the car I was fighting back tears. I hadn’t cried since I was a kid, I wasn’t about to let this teenager see me cry. Bridget started the car and took off. I had no idea where we were going. She must have sensed curiosity.
“First we’re going to my place. I packed most of my things yesterday but there is still a few things to pack, you can do that.” She turned and saw the surprise in my face. “Yeah, I’m moving in tonight. It wouldn’t be a lot of fun for me to own a slave if I didn’t control him 24 hrs. a day. I already told my mom I was out. She tired to act like she was sorry but I know, inwardly, she was relieved. My dad left us years ago when I was just a little girl. Mom’s been blaming me for it ever since. She likes to go out, get drunk, and bring home a different guy every night. Now she can bring home as many guys as she wants and not feel guilty that her “little girl” is in the next room.” I was just starting to feel sorry for her when we pulled up in front of a small shack.
“OK slave, we’re here.” I followed her inside. She ordered me to finish packing her things and load the suitcases in the trunk and we were back on the road.
We drove a few miles and pulled into a pet shop. I wondered what we were doing here, did she have a pet? As instructed I walked in behind her. There was a little cute behind the counter. The rest of the store was pretty busy with people, some with pets, milled around. “We need to find you a new bed,” she said walking over to some dog cages.
“You don’t expect me to sleep....,” SMACK! Once again she slapped me in the face, not as hard as she did before but still, very hard. I was mortified, we were in public.
“You know better than to speak without permission,” she said. Her voice was loud enough for everyone in the store to hear. People turned to look, some of them were totally shocked, some chuckled and laughed. “I was going to buy you the large one so you had some room but you don’t deserve that so I’m buying you the smaller one. Tonight, when you’re sleeping in your cage and have no room to move around you’ll have only yourself to blame. Now, take that one in the box and wait for me at the counter, I’m going to get you some dog bowls and a leash.” Now everyone was looking and laughing. I was beet red and never so ashamed in my life. This was getting way out of hand but I had no idea how to get out of it. I picked up the box containing the medium sized dog cage and walked it up to front counter. Even the cute check out girl must have heard Bridget, she was grinning as well. In a couple minutes my young mistress walked up with a pair of plastic dog bowls and a leather leash. “Here,” she said laying the items on the counter. The check out girl started scanning the items.
Just then Bridget saw a display of personalized dog tags. “Can you put anything you want of these dog tags,” she asked.
The counter girl answered back. “Yeah, we have a little machine in the back room. You just tell us what you want up to 12 letters and we stamp them right into the tag.”
“Now that’s neat,” said Bridget. She looked through the selection of tags and picked out two in the shape of a heart and one in the shape of a dog bone. “I’ll take these three,” she said while handing them to the cashier.
“What name would you like on them,” she asked.
“No name,” said Bridget, “just put, “slave” on all three. A big grin came over the girls face. I could have crawled into a cave. The young cashier walked back to the back room. A few minutes later she returned with the three dog tags with “slave” embossed into the metal.
“What about a collar.” The young girl directed her question toward Bridget. “Aren’t you going to need a collar for him,” she was smiling and letting us know she knew exactly what these things were for.
Bridge looked at her and smiled. “No thanks,” she said, “I want a collar that can be locked on, you don’t have any like that.” Both girls grinned. Bridget took my wallet from her pocket and laid one of my credit cards on the counter. The young, nice looking, cashier scanned the card and I was told to sign it.
Finally we were out of there. I put the cage and other things in the back seat and we headed back to my house. I’d been fighting it all night but I just couldn’t hold back any longer. Maybe it was the humiliation in the store, maybe the memory of her knocking me down in my own home, or maybe the total frustration with the whole situation, what ever it was, I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I started sobbing. I couldn’t help myself and, at the same time, hated myself for being so weak.
“Oh, is the little baby crying,” she said mockingly, “maybe we’ll have to get the baby some diapers and bottle, huh. What do you say, should we go to the baby store tomorrow and get baby some diapers?” I just started crying harder.
A few minutes later we pulled up to my house. Bridget hit the button on the garage opener and pulled the car inside. I waited until I was told I could get out. Again, in a very demanding tone, Bridget spoke, “Get out of the car.” I did as I was told and stood waiting for my next command. I could feel my cock getting hard again. I was hoping she wouldn’t see. It was so embarrassing to let her see that she was having a sexual effect on me. Even more, I was totally ashamed of myself and wondered what was wrong with me. I was not like this. “Do you remember the first rule of slavery,” she asked?
“Yes Mistress,” I replied.
“And that is.....”
“Never speak unless asked a specific question Mistress.”
“Congratulations, that’s correct. Now I’m going to give you another basic rule. You are never, ever allowed in the house with clothes, unless I say different of course.” How was I going to do that I thought. Where am I supposed to get dressed for work? What if people come over to the house, where am I supposed to hide? My brain was spinning again. “When you need to wear clothes for work I will put them out in the garage for you. You will get dressed out her. When you come home, you will get undressed out here before entering the house. Now, get those clothes off and bring everything into the house.” Damn, I thought, I’m getting deeper and deeper in this hole. I removed my shirt, shoes, socks, and last, my pants. When I pulled them down my hard cock sprang free bobbing around mindlessly. Bridget laughed with a big smile. “Is my little slave horny, huh!” I didn’t respond, just looked down in shame,. “Hey, stupid, that was a question, I expect an answer.”
“Ye,...Yes Mistress,” I stammered. I couldn’t, very well say no. My body would contradicting me.
“Too bad,” she said with and evil laugh, “I’m not in the mood to let you do anything about it.” With that she turned and walked up the stairs into the house. I grabbed Bridget’s suitcases and walked, naked, into the house. I set them on the floor just inside the door and walked back out to get the cage and the bag from the pet shop.
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