A Walk in the Hills

By the time dawn arrived my spirits had sunk to an all time low. I had maybe caught two or three hours of fretful sleep which had done nothing to refresh me, I was covered in filth, bitterly cold and lying a muddy puddle partially made by my own urine, My arms ached from being held behind my back and I had so many hurts, so many pains that it was hard to enumerate them. However these were just physical discomforts. Far worse was what was going through my mind.

I truly had no concept of what was in store for me. Sure, in general terms, I knew I was going to be abused both sexually and physically, but I also knew there had to be more. As things stood at the moment there was nothing to stop me going to the police as soon as I was released and yet none of my tormentors seemed in any way concerned about this. The obvious way of ensuring my silence was to make sure I never returned from the hills; I wouldn't be the first hiker to be lost even if bears or rock falls were the more usual reasons.

Somehow, however, I couldn't believe that this was going to be my fate. Maybe it was wishful thinking but cold blooded murder seemed beyond what my captors were prepared to do and, more significantly, Mistress Karen had intimated several times that this weekend was the start of some much longer process. Not only had she said repeatedly that I would have to get used to being abused but she had said that I would eventually come to welcome it. Those words kept echoing through my mind; would I, could I ever welcome such abuse? For years my darkest fantasies, had been dreams of submission and my most powerful orgasms had come as I imagined myself tormented by a cruel Master; the reality I was now facing was far more complicated. I felt as if I were being torn in two, pulled asunder by violent forces that struggled within me. The rational me, the sensible me, the me that used her brain, knew that this was something I should run from, some sick game that would suck me in and destroy me. But that voice of reason was not the only one that ran through my mind. There was another voice, a much more animal voice, which spoke not from my brain but from my groin. Mistress Karen was right, despite everything they had done to me, or was that because of everything they had done to me, I had been aroused like never before and the darker side of my sexuality had responded; the abuse had spoken to something very primitive deep, deep inside me, something that was powerful, something I couldn’t control, something that was hungry for more. Lying there in the dirt, in the filth, in the cold and the pain I was finally beginning to face up to exactly who I was, how these dark desires I had fought for so long were part of me, a real, vital, part of me and now they were coming to claim me.

I was lost in these thoughts when I heard the door creak. Wearily I lifted my head out of the mud to see Mistress Karen and Mel standing in the doorway. Mistress Karen was wearing shorts and a tee shirt, Mel a light cotton summer dress.

“God, look at the state of her.” Mistress Karen said as she came over and gave me a push with her foot. “Filth everywhere. It's going to take some work to get her ready.”

“That's Ok, I'd love to help.” Mel replied. “I found a hose out in one of the sheds and I can connect it up to the outside tap. There's plenty of pressure to work with.”

“But it's not just the dirt, all this hair has got to go.” Mistress Karen crouched down and tugged at my hair. “I mean, look at it. It's halfway down her back. How can she be a slave with high maintenance hair like that? And then there's her crotch. Did you see it? The filthy bitch doesn't even trim her pubes. That's got to be shaven.”

“Here, try these.” Mel had been rummaging around on the bench and came over with a pair of rusty scissors she had found amongst some disused tools. By the looks of things they weren't really sharp enough to cut hair before they went rusty but that didn't stop Mistress Karen. I was pulled to my knees and she hacked away at the muddy mess, great clumps of hair falling around me. In so many ways this was as bad as a beating, my hair, my beautiful hair, was my pride and joy and it had taken years to grow, years of care and nurture to get it as long and as luxuriant and now, almost on a whim, it was being hacked off, torn from my scalp. I couldn't hold back my tears but neither woman seemed to notice; they certainly didn't stop. From time to time Mistress Karen and Mel would stand back and admire their handy work, laughing all the time, making ribald comments about my new ‘lesbo cut’. Then, whilst Mistress Karen finished off, Mel went back to searching around in the bits and pieces in the corners of the shed. With a cry of surprise she pulled something from a pile of rubbish and lugged it over to stand in front of me. What she had found was an old mirror, its glass broken and with an oily film of dust but still clear enough for me to see what they had done. My head dropped as another wave of tears overtook me but Mistress Karen tugged at what was left of my hair, pulling it back and I was forced to stare at my reflection.

“Well, what do you say?” Mistress Karen demanded but I could only stare in horror. My hair had been hacked off until it was short all over. It would have been impossible to achieve any sense of style with the blunt scissors and  I doubt if Mistress Karen had even tried. What little was left was less than an inch long and stuck out in untidy clumps. I looked like one of those French women accused of fraternising with the Nazis, this was a haircut to punish, not to embellish.

“I asked you a question.” Mistress Karen's grip tightened. “Now, what do you say?”

I was still lost for words and I couldn't for the life of me understand what she wanted. She strode to the bench returning immediately and resumed her grip on what was left of my hair.

“Thank. (slash) You. (slash) Mistress. (slash) For. (slash)  Cutting. (slash)  My. (slash)  Hair. (slash)” Mistress Karen emphasised each word with the cane across my breasts. “Now, let's try again.”

I tried, I really tried, but the words wouldn’t come; I was really and truly bereft of speech. I knew that silence would only lead to further beatings, I knew I had to come up with something, indeed I had just been told the words I had to say but each and every attempt failed, choked by my incessant sobbing.

“God, you’re useless.” Mistress Karen said at last. She pushed me roughly to the ground before turning to Mel. “Ok, let’s get her set up.”

Mel unfastened the leg spreader and I was picked up by my arms and frogmarched from the shed. At the edge of the clearing around the cabin there were two trees close together and a couple of ropes had been hung over suitable branches. I was taken over and laid down on my back between the two trees. At the end of each rope was a thick padded strap and these were fitted around my ankles and buckled firmly into place before the leg spreader was refitted. Then Mistress Karen and Mel took one rope each and pulled. They experimented for a while, getting the ropes even, until I was hanging upside down with my head a foot or so from the ground.  Then my wrists were unfastened and tied to ropes leading to the foot of each tree so I was spread-eagled as well as upside down. Mistress Karen and Mel stood back and admired their handy work.

“Well, that’s all sorted.” Mistress Karen said. “She’s fine like that. I’ll leave you to it. Are you sure you don’t mind doing the washing?”

“No, not at all, I’m rather looking forward to it.” Mel replied.

“Ok, just…” Mistress Karen hesitated as if unsure what to say. “Don’t go too hard, remember that breaking her is my privilege.”

“Don’t worry.” Mel laughed. “I’ll be gentle as a kitten.”

“I know your ‘kitten’.” Mistress Karen laughed mirthlessly. “It’s got sharp claws. Just be careful, that’s all. Give me a shout when you’ve finished.”

The two women left, Mistress Karen heading for the cabin and Mel for one of the sheds. It wasn’t long before Mel returned carrying a bucket and dragging a length of hose. The end of the hose had some sort of pistol on it and she was pulling the trigger in bursts, experimenting with how strong the flow was.

“Not bad water pressure for out in the middle of nowhere.” She commented conversationally. “It seems that it’s piped in from a spring up in the hills behind us. Kind of convenient for a run down shack like this.”

She placed the bucket on the ground and gave me a couple of experimental squirts with the hose. The jet of water hit me in the stomach, cold but not freezing. Mel jumped back as the water splashed back around her.

“Looks like if I’m going to get up close and personal then this dress has got to go. I don’t want your filth all over it.” She shrugged out of the dress, put it over a rock and stood before me in just her panties and trainers. If you didn’t know her she looked the picture of young sweet innocence. Her body was slim and lithe, her breasts had the firmness of youth, her long blonde hair framing a cute face. Her sweet smile, however, I now knew, was a front to something much darker and I was reminded of Mistress Karen’s comments: this kitten had sharp claws.

“Now you hold still and we’ll get you all nicely cleaned up for Mistress Karen.” She reached into the bucket for a scrubbing brush and set to work. Starting at the top she used a combination of the brush and the hose to blast away the accumulated layers of mud that had dried all over me. To reach my feet she had to pull over a log to stand on and her body was squirming against mine. The brush was designed for hard wooden floors and the stiff bristles scratched at my skin leaving it raw and red. As she worked her way down no inch of me was spared, indeed she seemed to spend longer on my crotch and breasts than was necessary just to get them clean. The she spent some time blasting away at what was left of my hair; it was strange after all the years of long hair to feel my scalp so exposed.

Once she had removed most of the mud she put down the brush and, using her free hand, reached for my pussy, opening me up. With the hose at full blast she played the jet of water back and forth, hammering against my sensitive skin. She seemed to spend ages playing it against my clit and as the battering increased I couldn't help a cry of pain. Mel stopped almost immediately and crouched down next to my face.

“What’s up, fuck cunt?” She enquired sweetly.

“Please, please Mistress Mel, I can’t take it, it hurts too much.” I doubted my pleading would help but I couldn’t stop myself.

“But I’ve got to get you all nice and clean, I’ve got to get all that nasty mud out of those intimate little places. Think what Mistress Karen would say if I left mud in your cunt. Here I know what will help.” She stood up, took off her sodden panties, balled them up and slipped them into my mouth. “That’s better. Now I can work in peace and you can squeal all you want. Don’t you even think of spitting them out.”

Mel stood before me, her trainers emphasising the fact that she was otherwise naked. I couldn’t help but stare, she was really pretty and really sexy; a stark contrast between the sweet nymphet she appeared to be and the twisted vindictive vicious bitch I new she was. She saw my stare and struck several poses in front of me before she reached down and picked up the hose and set back to work.

She went straight back my pussy but she was far from satisfied with simply working on the outside. I felt her fingers prising me open, the nozzle of the hose pushed inside and then the shock, the agony as the high pressure jet was forced inside me. Ironically I was glad of the panty-gag, it gave me something to bite down on, something to strain against as time after time she’d squeeze the trigger.

Once she’d finished my troubles were far from over, my buttocks, or more specifically the crack between them was the next area she concentrated on. As she played the jet of water up and down the crease I didn’t need to guess what was coming next; a hose that can be used as a douche can just as easily be used for enemas and it wasn’t long before I felt the nozzle being forced against the tight ring of my sphincter. I couldn’t help but clench my buttocks but all that meant was that Mel pushed harder and, inevitably, the tip of the nozzle was forced inside.

When Mel had been douching me she had used short bursts. Admittedly there were quite a lot of them but there had been time in-between for some of the water to escape. With the enema the nozzle fitted quite tightly into may anus creating a pretty watertight seal and the hose just seemed to stay on and on and on. At first it wasn’t too bad but increasingly I felt full, full to capacity, full to bursting, full to agony, full to I can’t take it any more. I felt as if my guts would explode from the inside, as if she would cause me serious medical damage before, suddenly, she pulled out the hose and leapt back as the water shot from me, streaming down my back. Mel finished off by playing the hose against me, rinsing me down, washing away the filth.

She came back round in front of me and emptied the bucket on the ground before starting to fill it from the hose. She took a plastic bottle from the pile she had just emptied from the bucket and squirted it into the water which caused it to foam generously. She then fetched a sponge and, again starting with my feet, washed me down rubbing the soapy water in. After the harshness of the scrubbing brush the softness of the sponge was soothing against my skin and whatever she had added to the water had a pleasant smell of apples. Maybe it was the contrast with the rest of my treatment but, as with when I had been fed the previous night, any respite from the abuse felt wonderful; even a little tenderness was bliss. The soft sponge sliding across my battered skin woke every nerve and when she worked on my breasts and groin my body couldn’t help but respond.

She squatted down and set to work on what was left of my hair. Her slender fingers worked the rich lather into my scalp and the end effect was almost as sensuous as when she had worked on my breasts or my groin. The position had my head directly between her knees so that her pussy, with its covering of well trimmed blonde hair, was right in front of my face. Despite the indignity of all that was happening I had to fight the temptation to lean forward and kiss it.

Once she had finished soaping me she fetched some shaving foam from the pile emptied from the bucket, squirted some into the palm of her hand and started to massage it into my pubic mound. If the soaping had been sensual this was exquisite, she seemed to be deliberately using her fingers to get me as aroused as possible and was taking far more time and trouble than was necessary simply to rub the shaving foam in. Once she had finished she parted my lips and felt for my clitoris. Rolling it gently between her thumb and forefinger she was taking me higher and higher. She broke off, squatted down, and took her panties out of my mouth.

“Did you enjoy that, fuck cunt?” As ever her tone was sweet.

“Yes, Mistress Mel, thank you Mistress Mel.” I replied.

“And is your clitty all swollen and happy?” She continued.

“Yes, Mistress Mel.” I’m not sure that ‘happy’ was how I would have described it but if she wanted to play along to her little girl image I wasn’t in any position to argue.

“If you were mine then it wouldn’t just be your hair I’d be shaving, think how much you’d scream if your clitty was shaved off as well.” She stood up, one hand spread my lips and I felt the hard edge of the razor resting against my clit.

“Well,” Mistress Mel continued. “Shall I? One quick stroke and it’s gone. I could tell Karen my hand slipped. I’m sure she’d understand.”

“Please, please Mistress Mel.” I was desperate. With any of the others I would have known that this was just a wind up, just a play to scare me but I had no illusions about Mistress Mel having any limits as to what she would do.

“Hmm… Maybe not. I did promise, didn’t I?” Mel removed the razor and I went back to breathing again.

Even with the soap and the foam it was quite a job to shave off my pubic hair. After nearly every stroke she would rinse off the razor in the bucket and I could feel her working nearer and nearer to my lips. She was being very thorough and I knew there would be nothing left by the time she had finished. As she worked her free hand held and manipulated my flesh and, once again, I was in a position where I was being stimulated and aroused despite the humiliating position and the constant fear of what was being done to me. I knew my clit was still quite swollen and hoped it wasn’t too prominent. I still wouldn’t put it past Mistress Mel to nick the end off ‘by accident’.

Finished at last she emptied the bucket by simply tipping the water over me. She then returned to the hose and working down from my toes, methodically washed off all the soap. Ironically it actually made me feel better. I felt that the immediate threat was receding and I felt clean and alive for the first time since I had been captured. Mel too seemed to have lost interest. She wasn’t missing anything and she was still being thorough but there wasn’t the intensity any more.

Once she had finished she rinsed herself off, picked up her dress, threw all the bits and pieces into the empty bucket and headed off back to the cabin. I hung there drying in the morning sun. There was a light breeze blowing and it was setting out to be a perfect spring day. I wondered what was next; I had obviously been cleaned for a purpose, how soon before I found out what it was.

After she had dropped off the hose and bucket Mel went into the cabin only to return a few moments later dressed and towelling her hair. She was accompanied by Mistress Karen who had changed out of her shorts and tee shirt into some sort of dark top. Both of them were carrying mugs of coffee and they sat down on the easy chairs on the porch. Although it was too far for me to hear what they were saying, they were obviously talking about me as they kept looking in my direction and pointing from time to time. It was maybe fifteen minutes before Mistress Karen put down her cup and, picking something up from the table, stood up and walked over to the stairs leading down from the porch.

As she came closer I could see that she was wearing some sort of wrap, a kimono perhaps, which was short enough to show to full advantage her long slender legs. The material was deep burgundy so dark it was almost black with an expensive silky sheen. On her feet she wore matching high heeled court shoes which meant that she was picking her way with some care across the rough ground towards the trees where I hung. I’d always felt she was attractive but there was something about the way the wrap, her raven hair and her dark eyes went together to give her an almost classic beauty. And her legs, her long, long slender legs: I would have given anything there and then to have legs like that, legs to die for. In her hand she carried a short leather strap maybe a foot or so long which ended in a wooden handle. Beautiful or not, there was something about the look in her eyes which was disturbing, a coolness maybe, a complete lack of compassion.

She came over and stood in front of me, saying not a word as she studied me closely. Then her hand reached out for my newly shaven pubic mound which she stroked, re-awakening the sexual arousal that had never been far away ever since I had been taken. She was no novice and within moments my body was responding, my excitement growing.

“You’re a pain slut, fuck cunt. Do you know that?” She said at last. “In fact you’re such a pain slut that you’re ruled by it and I’m going to use it to rule you. The sooner you realise that you’re my pain slut the easier it will be. All you have to do is admit it to yourself.”

“No, Mistress Karen, please no.” I replied.

“Do you know what a pain slut is?” Mistress Karen enquired.

“Yes… No… I’m not sure, Mistress Karen.” I replied confused by the way the questioning was going.

“The slut part means that you’re ruled by your cunt. You’re such a horny little cow that always thinking about sex and you’re not fussy how you do it. You’ll do anything, no matter how depraved, how perverted, how disgusting as long as it gets you off. You don’t believe me, well I’ve been watching you and for all your tears, for all your protests, you’ve been loving all this, loving the attention. Your cunt, your mouth, your ass, you didn’t mind which it was as long as someone’s prick was inside it.. Why you even came a couple of times. Most women would have fought, most women would have done anything to get away but you’ve been revelling in every second, coming back for more. Isn’t that so?”

“No, Mistress Karen. Please, Mistress Karen, it’s not like that, honest it’s not.” I kept saying ‘it’s not, it’s not’ as the tears started to flow

“Oh yes it is, fuck cunt.” Mistress Karen continued. “I mean, look at you, right now, you’re so turned on your cunt’s dripping. Here, have a taste.”

She pushed two fingers into my pussy, removed them and reached down to my head, pushing them into my mouth. Whatever I wanted to be true I couldn’t deny that her fingers had slipped in easily and the taste of my juices was very strong. However much I wanted to believe that it was a simple reaction to her fingers playing with me part of me was whispering in the background ‘you know she’s right’.

“Well, that’s the slut part but what about the pain part.” Mistress Karen continued as she stood up again. “Let me explain.”.

As quick as a flash she struck out with the strap, a vicious slash which landed directly across the gash of my pussy lips. My clit, engorged by the play of her fingers, was fully prominent and took the main force of the blow.

I bucked and twisted against the ropes that held me, I’d never felt pain like this before, a red hot branding iron would have been kinder. The pain seared through my body, bright lights flashed before my eyes and a scream was wrenched from me. I’d hardly got over the initial shock before a second and a third blow rained down, filling my world with agony. For all my fantasies of being whipped I had never dreamed of anything like this. Gradually the initial shock subsided leaving a burning fire centred on my groin.

“You see, fuck cunt.” Mistress Karen continued as her hand returned to my battered pussy. “That’s what you want, that’s what turns you on, that’s the key to your pleasure.”

“No, no, please, Mistress Karen.” I pleaded. “Please don’t hit me again. I can’t take it. Really I can’t”

“But it’s what you need, fuck cunt. Don’t you understand, it’s what drives you. Your body doesn’t lie; however much you protest it’s easy to see that you’re still turned on.” Mistress Karen’s tone was pleasant, reasonable, as if explaining something simple to a dim child.

And she was right. My groin might be a ball of searing fire but, through the pain, through the torture, through the agony there was something else. The force of the sensations that coursed through every vein in my body had an intensity which was deeply thrilling. The contrast of the gentle touch of her fingers against my battered pussy was pushing me higher, building towards…

With no warning whatsoever she whipped her hand away and three more blows lashed down causing lightning bolts of pain shot through me, putting every muscle in spasm. A strange faraway sound of incredible intensity echoed in my ears until, as the shock subsided, I realised it was my own screams. Slowly, so slowly, I subsided back, my muscles relaxing again until I hung limply from my bonds.

When Mistress Karen’s hand returned to my pussy each touch was bitter agony, each tender stroke magnified beyond reason, but, agony or not, it didn’t stop my arousal building once again..

With the next three blows it was as if it were happening to some other person, my body bucked and twisted with the pain, I screamed and screamed and screamed, the tears flowing from my eyes. Again there was a pause to let me subside before the leather strap was replaced with her tender fingers softly touching my pussy.  The pain was still there and the tears still ran but her touch on my lips and clit brought the arousal back. She took her time, her fingers bringing life and sexual feeling back to my clitoris. Through the pain my arousal once again started to build. This time she took me further, this time she took me nearer and I knew that just a little more would bring me release but just as I was reaching the peak…

Mistress Karen snatched her hand away and three more hard blows landed on my aroused lips and engorged clitoris. The tension that just seconds ago had been building was now replaced with another bout of intense pain. I screamed and my body jerked after each swat; crying, begging and pleading for her to stop.

And then she did stop. Both literally and figuratively I hung there, I had been taken to the very brink but denied relief. I’d suffered the pain but been denied the pleasure, I’d been so close, so very close but was inevitably so far from release. As my breathing returned to normal I returned to crying.

“Think about it, fuck cunt; think about what you want, what you really, really want. Stop pretending, it’s time you accepted what you are, accepted that you’re a pain slut, accepted that you’re my pain slut.” And without another work Mistress Karen walked back to the cabin.

Mistress Karen’s words echoed in my ears. What did I want? That was easy, I wanted to go home, I wanted my freedom, I wanted life to return to normal, I wanted to forget that any of this had ever happened, to put it all in a box somewhere and hide it away. What I didn’t want was to feel the throbbing fire which ran through me, the way my groin, my body, demanded release, to be the slave to the intense emotions that Mistress Karen had woken within me. And as for Karen, Mistress Karen, I hated her, I hated every inch of her gorgeous oriental looks, her certainty that she would rule me, the way she had choreographed my capture and the multiple rapes. How could I be so weak, so pitiful that she could control me so easily. I thought about being forced to lick her feet the previous evening and despised myself for the way it made me feel. I hated her, her arrogance her pride, her haughtiness, the way she looked down on me as a piece of dirt, the way she used and abused my weakness, the way she knew my weakness, the way she understood me so well, the way she had known, right from the start, how to make me her slave.

And I knew, with a total certainty that my life would never, could never, be the same. Mistress Karen had forced me to really see, really understand, just what it was that drove me. However much I might want to return to the independent career girl I had been I would never forget, could never forget, how I felt right there, right then. For all the pain, for all the shame, the power of the thrills that centred on my burning groin were a drug I would have to return to. And it wasn’t just the pain, the previous night, lying in the dirt, sucking the toes of my Mistress had felt right, that was where I belonged, that was where I had to be, that was what I wanted. I was a slut, a pain slut, Her pain slut.

With acceptance comes peace of mind. Now I knew all I had to do was wait, wait for my Mistress to return. I have no idea if it was five minutes or fifty, I was at peace, I knew what I wanted. Exhausted by little sleep and high emotion I closed my eyes and drifted.

“Well, fuck cunt, have you decided what you want?” Mistress Karen had returned and with a jerk I woke up and opened my eyes. She stood before me, the wrap half open, showing the tight bright red leather bodice and matching leather panties she wore beneath. She was so beautiful, so majestic, I just wanted to bow down before her and offer my miserable self as a sacrifice.

“Well?” she asked again. “Have you?”

“Please, Mistress Karen, I’m a pain slut, Mistress Karen.” Acceptance or not it was difficult to admit how I felt.

“And…” Prompted Mistress Karen.

A last flicker of resistance sparked within me. Could I really offer myself into the complete control of this sadist, this woman who would only set out to hurt me. Could I really offer her my all knowing full well that there was no promise of anything in return. But my throbbing groin and the memory of her fingers overrode it, extinguishing the spark. Every fibre in my body wanted to bow down before this vision of loveliness and worship and I would pay any price to be allowed to do so.

“Please, Mistress Karen, I’m your plan slut.” I said at last. “Please let me serve you, please let me be your slave.”

“Very pretty.” Mistress Karen said with a smile. “Very pretty indeed.”

She unfastened the ropes and lowered me to the ground. My wrists and ankles were freed and, for the first time since my capture, I was unrestrained. However I had no thoughts of escape, I was caught up in the moment and my servitude was assured.

“Follow me.” Mistress Karen ordered and picked her way carefully back towards the cabin. Scared that she would change her mind, scared that I would not be acceptable, I followed behind on my hands and knees. When we got to the stairs leading up to the porch I was told to stay as Mistress Karen ascended and disappeared into the cabin for a moment. Mel looked on with an amused sparkle in her eyes.

When Mistress Karen returned she was holding a heavy leather collar, it’s bright red colour a perfect match for my Mistress’s bodice.

“Do you know what this is?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress Karen, a collar, Mistress Karen.” I replied.

“If you crawl up these stairs, if you accept this collar, then you become mine. You’re body becomes mine, your soul becomes mine. You will move in with me as my full time slave. You will do my bidding immediately, cheerfully and without question. Any lapses of behaviour will result in severe punishment. Do you completely understand?

“Yes, Mistress Karen, I understand.”

“And do you willingly offer yourself, freely acknowledging that you will become my possession, acknowledging my right to treat you as I wish.?”

“Yes, Mistress Karen, I am yours, I am your slave.”

“Come along then. Come to your Mistress and be mine”

Almost as if mesmerised I crawled up the stairs and knelt before her and kissed the toes of her shoes. I knew what I had to do, I knew what I had to say.

“Please, Mistress Karen, I beg you, please may I be your slave. Please may I wear your collar.”

“Kneel up.” Mistress Karen said. I did as I was told and the heavy leather was fitted round my neck and I heard a solid click as the padlock was fastened. With that click I knew my life had changed forever, for good or for worse there was no way back. I was scared but I was relieved. This was my future and I had arrived.

“Good girl, well done.” Mistress Karen said quietly. She crouched down an kissed me full on the lips, a long passionate kiss, her tongue reaching into my mouth. Breaking away at last she stood up,  went over and sat down in one of the patio chairs. She clicked her fingers and pointed to the floor in front of her. Keeping on my knees I went over and knelt where she had pointed.

“Kneel properly, keep your knees apart, your cunt should be open at all times. Clasp you hands behind your neck.” Mistress Karen reinforced her point by pushing my knees apart with the toe of her shoe. Once I was arranged to her satisfaction she rested the toe against my cunt. The cool smooth leather felt good against my battered flesh and I had trouble keeping still. Gently she eased her foot back and forth, opening me up.

“Does my slave like that?” She enquired sweetly. “Does my slave like my foot fucking her?”

“Yes, Mistress Karen, your slave loves it.” I replied breathlessly.

“And shall I let you come this time? Do you deserve to be allowed to come?”

“I... I...” Suddenly the trick question seemed obvious and I knew how I needed to reply. “Please, Mistress Karen, your slave is unworthy of being allowed to come. She is dependant on the generosity of her Mistress.”

“You see how quickly she learns.” Mistress Karen turned to Mel sitting next to her. “I knew she was a natural. I can always spot them.”

“Horny little bitch, isn't she?” Mel replied. “Look at her getting off on your shoe.”

“Yeah, but that's what makes her easy to control. Control her cunt and you control her. Orgasm denial is going to be just as efficient as the whip with this one, possibly more so.”

“Talking of slaves, what are you going to do with Bob?”

“That fat slob.” The derision in Mistress Karen's voice was clear. “Nothing, I wouldn't stoop so low. Do you want to have a play?”

“Not for keeps, but it might be fun to explain to him what happens to traitors. Was he really turned on last night?”

“God, yes.” Mistress Karen laughed. “His dinky little prick was good and hard and the more I used the crop the harder it got.”

“I wonder if he'll still be hard when I've finished with him. God, look at fuck cunt, she's right on the edge.”

Mel was right. Whilst she and Mistress Karen had been chatting the toe of Mistress Karen's shoe had been working it's magic between my thighs and I was, indeed, close to coming. However, once again I was going to have to wait. Mistress Karen removed her foot from my groin and pressed it against my stomach.

“Yuch! Slave, you've left your disgusting juices all over my best shoes. Clean them up now.” I moved my hands from behind my neck only to be brought up short. “With your tongue, stupid, with your tongue.”

She placed her foot on the floor and I leant forward and started to lick it clean and I was still like that when the cabin door opened and Steve, Kelly and Randy came out onto the porch. Randy flopped down into one of the chairs.

“God, I'm parched. Make some coffee, please, Kelly.” He said.

“Why should I? Isn't that what we've got a slave like fuck cunt for?” Kelly replied petulantly.

“No it's not.” Mistress Karen's voice was suddenly stern. “fuck cunt is my slave and I tell her what do to, not you. Now, do as you're told and make the coffee or do you want to join her?”

There was a long silence before eventually Kelly flounced off to make the coffee. It looked like the group dynamics were due another seismic change. I kept my head down, happy to be serving my Mistress, happy to be licking her shoes, happy to await whatever was going to happen.