Part 8 of an ongoing story. Thanks to everyone who wrote with
suggestions some of which are enacted in this chapter
Unfortunately delays are becoming a fact of life made worse by
malfunctioning software. I thank everyone for their patience and
encouragement. BTW some of you may notice that the spelling on this
one is a little odd, for some reason the Lotus WordPro 96 Beta for
OS/2 defaults to a British dictionary and insists on changing ize to
ise. Anyone know a fix????
The web site is still under investigation and I'm in the process of
posting some stories to an FTPable BBS, more later.
The associated images this time are JO13, JO14 and JO15 which are
recent posts to A.B.P.E.F (for fetish). Not strictly bondage but then
when you see them you'll understand. As always I can't provide images
or reposts.
The next section may be ready in as little as 3 days!!!!
The Mighty Quin (tmquin@ibm.net)
*****************************************************************
Captured Caroline. by Quin
======================
Chapter 8: Stories of Death (M/f, NC, B&D)
=======================
Then she started to cry, her body shaking, the tears flowing like
rain. I held her, tried to do what I could to calm her down, but it
was no good. I admit I felt a little guilty thinking that the stress
of the kidnapping was finally coming out. I pulled her close feeling
the warm smoothness of the leather corset against my skin. She
started to mumble something and as I listened I gradually came to
realise that this had nothing to do with the kidnapping or with me.
I understand grief through bitter experience. It is a slow subtle
poison. If you try to bury it or run from it then the loneliness and
pain get a power over your life and they start to eat away at your
soul.
I loved my grandfather, he had been a strong generous man
always willing to help a neighbor or a grandson prone to trouble. In
our community he had held a special place, never elected to any
office, never qualified in any profession yet somehow always the one
people turned to in times of crisis. He was if anything the perfect
human being, a strong man who didn't pick on the weak, a proud man
always willing to admit when he was wrong. During the long hot
Indiana summers of my boyhood we had walked and talked and fished, all
the things boys and grandfathers are supposed to do together.
Then in my senior year at High School he died, no illness, no warning
just one day I came home from school and found my mother crying in the
kitchen. The shock and the grief hit her all at once and she was
never quite the same again. As for me? Well one of the constants in
my life was missing and the pain was worse than anything my young mind
could imagine. Then I did a foolish thing. My parents had always
treated me as an adult and I was graduating High School at the age of
fifteen. So I tricked myself into thinking that I was an adult and
bottled the grief inside so as not to upset my mother any further. I
played the dutiful son and buried my feelings so deep that when it was
all over and I wanted to cry I found I couldn't. That feeling stayed
bottled up eating away at my guts every day for eight long years.
Then late one night as I lay alone in a hotel room in San Francisco
all that burst to the surface and I cried all night.
I don't know what had happened after Josh died but I know that
Caroline hadn't dealt with it. She'd buried that grief as I had and
it had lurked in the back of her mind. Now it had picked it's time
and place finding that moment of weakness as it had in that dark hotel
room in San Francisco. I held her shaking body encouraged her to
scream into the privacy of the soundproofed room and waited for the
storm to pass. She spoke a little between the sobs and with some
gentle encouragement I persuaded her to tell me their story.
She had known Josh Petersson all her life. The Petersson's were a
local farming family who had lived in this backwoods part of Iowa
since great grandfather Olof came from Scandinavia in the eighteen
nineties. They lived close enough to the Reverend Conway and his
family to be considered neighbors. They shared barbecues in the
summer, exchanged gifts in the winter, attended the good Reverend's
church and involved themselves in local fund raising. Josh was three
years older than Caroline and had voted himself the title of honorary
big brother. She had grown up with him always about but never really
saw him as anything but a friend.
Then when she was fourteen he had asked her out on a date. It seemed
to have come without warning and I got the feeling that she had
accepted almost by reflex. Almost accidentally she had fallen into
the relationship, then deliberately she fell in love. Knowing that
her father would not approve, she had kept their romance a secret.
Over that summer they had seen each other more and more, meeting in
private, lying to friends trying to keep the truth away from the tell
tales and gossips common to all small towns. As she was underage they
had agreed to limit themselves to oral sex and heavy petting until her
sixteenth birthday. For six months they had done what kids do and I
think these were the happiest weeks of her young life.
Then Josh started to busy himself on some project. He was unavailable
most weekends and would not tell her why. She became jealous, and
started to think he had another girl. When she finally confronted him
he'd just laughed and asked her to meet him at a small empty cottage
on his father's land. His family called it "Patrick's House" and his
grandfather had built it for his parents when they were first married.
She had been there before of course, it was one of the few places were
they had any privacy. This time she went with some trepidation
thinking that perhaps he wanted to break up. Instead he surprised her
with an engagement ring on a silver chain she could wear it around her
neck and a promise of marriage. Then they walked through the empty
rooms looking at the work he'd done to make it their home and planned
their new life together.
It had started to rain so they couldn't leave immediately. The moment
had seemed so perfect that she took him by the hand and led him
upstairs and they made love for the first time one week before her
fifteenth birthday.
It took a lot of coaxing to get her to tell me about his death. I
knew from experience that it was necessary, that if she didn't get it
in the open it would continue to haunt her. It was painful and she
cried like a child as she went through his last day. They'd had a
fight, he'd wanted to formally ask her father. She had said no.
Angry words were said then he'd stormed off. He'd apparently gone
hunting, something he did quiet often when he needed to think, when he
didn't return this family sent out search parties. They had found him
at the bottom of a dirt bank in a lonely wood. She told me how he had
slipped and fell shooting himself in the process then bleed to death
unable to climb out again. At that moment she broke down completely,
it took another hour before she was cried out. I held her until the
end encouraging her to let it go providing the physical comfort a
person needs at that time. When she finished she was weak and
emotionally drained.
I took off the posture collar and replaced it with the usual one. I
had intended to remove the corset and boots but right now she needed
to sleep. I attached the wire and freed her hands. Then I gently
dried her face and brushed her hair aside.
"Thank you," She said.
"What for?"
"For listening."
I smiled.
"Comes with the territory, " I said, "If you can't talk to your master
who can you talk to?" I pantomimed looking around the room for some
other person and discovering only myself there. She smiled, and I
knew she was going to be all right. I turned to leave but at the door
on impulse I stopped and looked back.
"Who are you?" I asked gently.
"A slave for your pleasure, Master."
I looked into her large blue eyes. Tomorrow when she'd had chance to
recover it may be different but at that one vulnerable moment I think
she really believed what she was saying, at that moment she really was
my slave.
The night was still relatively young so I busied myself preparing my
laptop for the trip. About twelve I made a hot drink and settled into
my favorite chair. A quick check on Caroline showed her asleep, a
calm almost radiant look on her face. It looked as if the release of
all than angst had done her some good. It really had been a roller
coaster ride tonight and as I sipped my cocoa I went back through the
events to look for a trigger.
There was the sex of course. This time it had seemed much stronger
than before. I'd been overwhelmed by the power of it all. Tonight
she'd been somehow sexier, more vibrant than on previous occasions. I
tried to find a reason why, when we'd had sex before she had seemed to
enjoy it and I knew for a fact that she'd orgasmed so what was so
different this time? I knew that if I kept her excited long enough
she would throw away her inhibitions when we finally fucked. In fact
when the time came she was now an enthusiastic partner. I may have
been keeping her here against her will, but there could no longer be
any doubts that the sex was consensual.
Of course I didn't kid myself. I kept Caroline tied and frustrated
for most of the day, by the time we fucked she was desperate, her body
crying out for relief. When I offer to fuck her of course she
co-operates as she would with a vibrator or a wine bottle. I could
see that from Caroline's point of view sex with me was just a way to
for a girl to masturbate with her hands tied.
Then I remembered the little "I'm sorry Josh" line she'd said. Did
she feel unfaithful to his memory? I could force her to have sex, I
could even make her body betray her so that she enjoyed it but I
couldn't make her invest any emotion involvement. Was that the
answer? Had sex meant something more than pleasure to her this time?
Had the guilt of that discovery burst the dam wall of all that pent up
grief? I didn't know and felt not for the first time that a degree in
psychology would be more useful right now. Then I remembered
Caroline's textbooks still sitting in the back room of my garage
awaiting the furnace. Perhaps the answer was in there? I decided to
rescue them and find out. Now though it was time for bed so I started
the dishwasher and headed upstairs. I settled down and for the first
time that I could remember I had a dream.
It started in the parlour of my father's hardware store. I think I
was about ten and it was one of those timeless Indiana summers that I
remembered so fondly. Long hot dusty days with school a distant
memory, and the smell of the corn fields on the breeze. Then a sudden
cut and I was out in the street chasing after Grandpah trying not to
drag the fishing pole he gave me in the dirt, wanting him to slow
down; but never wanting to admit I was too young to keep up.
We sat fishing and talked as we had so long ago, and though part of me
knew he was dead, I was filled again by the joy of his presence. I
could have stayed there forever, but for some reason he sent me back
to the house to pick up some fruit we'd forgotten. As I headed back
towards the path something drifted into my view.......
.....Caroline floated above. She was naked but for a large number of
thin
leather straps, each about the width of a boot lace that bound her
legs together and her arms at her sides. I paused for a moment,
shocked to see her in such an idyllic place. I noticed that the
straps were very tight, her hands and feet were blue and bloated. One
strap ran up through her shaved pussy and disappeared between her cunt
lips. This seemed so tight that it almost cut her in two. A
seemingly endless flow of blood trickled down her exposed thigh.
She was looking at me, big blue eyes above the wide padded strap that
gagged her. Much to my surprise there was non of the accusing looks
she normally gave me. Instead she had a rather pained expression,
eyes slightly puffy like she had wept for a long time. I found myself
opening the big knife my grandfather had given me and I nervously
stepped forward. Bringing the knife to the crotch strap I cut the
thin leather lace above her pussy and started to pull it from between
her cunt lips. Much to my surprise it refused to budge. I pulled
harder and was shocked when a large ball of the leather cord popped
out of her hole. Almost immediately she started to thrash and moan
behind her gag and I realised she was orgasming. More blood poured
down her body as the straps literally cut her limbs. I felt
frightened but somehow stepped forward. Her rapid motion caused her
to slip from my grasp and a found her drifting off in the wind like a
bizarre fetish balloon....
I followed but whenever I approached she just seemed to drift further
and further away........ In the end I started running but just as I
caught up with her she squealed and rolled herself into a ball.......
I closed in, making comforting noises and after quite a struggle
managed to undo the buckle on the gag strap. However as I pulled it
from her face I became aware of the blood encrusted on it. I looked
down and cringed for beneath the gag her lips had been sown together
with stitch after stitch of the foul leather cord........
I woke with a start. Was this the dream that I'd had the night
before? All I knew was that I was shaking. It took me almost an hour
to calm down and start to think rationally of the images in my mind.
I felt sure of one thing, the dream was somehow significant; my
subconscious was trying to alert me to something. I thought at first
it was guilt, but Caroline's bonds had been horrific, the sick work of
a sadist and though I may be many things I wasn't that. I admit that
I'm a control freak and that I use pain to get that control but I
don't revel in it and I don't use it for its own sake. So what did it
mean?
A quick video check found her still asleep. It was dawn and I didn't
feel like sleeping again so I put on a pot of coffee and went into my
office. There underneath one of my computer tables was the box of
important papers I'd taken from Caroline's apartment. I should have
moved it into the dungeon some time ago; there is little point hiding
the slave and leaving boxes of her stuff just lying around. For now
though I just reached into the box and pulled out the picture album.
I spent about half an hour going through it I knew what I wanted
should be there. I carefully picked though page after page of
Christmas's, birthdays, and Thanksgivings with no luck. In the end I
found it tucked away in a little wallet like thing inside the back
cover.
It was a picture of Josh and Caroline.
Of course he looked young, he'd died when he was seventeen, a tall
friendly looking boy his Scandinavian heritage evident in this lanky
frame and dirty blonde hair. He looked nice but dull. The standard
all American kid, not smart enough to be a nerd not athletic enough to
be a jock. The kind of kid who somehow just makes it through life.
Except this one hadn't.
She looked young and very happy, caught in that spontaneous moment
that was either reality or Pearson. For I while I tried to imagine
what their life together would have been like if he'd survived. One
thing seemed clear Caroline wouldn't have been an unwilling guest in
my basement. I could almost see her dragging a dusty faced blonde
daughter around that cottage in Iowa, with perhaps another child on
the way. Even when times were tough I got the feeling they would be
happy. Josh Petersson and Caroline Conway; a future that didn't
happen.
Time to make breakfast. I figured she'd have quite an appetite when
she awoke so I started into a more lavish spread than normal. Soon
I'd have to start controlling her calorie intake and arrange for some
exercise or the enforced inactivity would start to have its effects on
her waistline. For now I indulged her with a meal designed as much to
comfort as to feed. By seven it was ready and I went downstairs to
collect her. She blinked in surprise as I woke her. Up until then
I'd waited until she was awake before fetching her. Her face was
still red and tearstained so after she had used the toilet I freed her
hands and had her wash up.
The rest was almost a ritual. I refastened her hands, attached the
leash and led her to the table. Once there she sat on my lap while I
fed her by hand. I'd found that I liked feeding her, like having a
gag always dangling about her neck it was a constant reminder who was
in charge, who had the power in this relationship. I was pleased to
see her eating well and I could feel her strength returning. This
time I dispensed with the syrup trick, I needed this outfit in good
condition for the next posture session. So after fastening the collar
to an overhead wire I released her and told her to strip. She did in
an almost mechanical way and I could see there was something on her
mind.
I admit to having something planned too and as she wiggled out of the
leather I was positioning the photofloods to point at one of the
restraintless walls. She watched silently as I retrieved some
clothes from the wardrobe. Walking over I threw them on the table.
"Put these on, everything but the gloves." She complied quickly and I
stood back to admire the result. The outfit was not that much
different from what she had worn on her first night. A shiny black
latex halter top came first. The rubber was ribbed to give it a
corset like effect. It hugged her upper body pushing her tits up and
out in a pleasing way while leaving her stomach bare. Next came a
matching black latex garter belt, I'd removed the elastic so it was
really only being used as a sash to cover the area between her hips
and her shaved pubis. The latex boots which came to the top of her
creamy thighs were little more than thigh high latex stockings with
five inch heels attached, they tied at the top and hugged her legs
like a second skin. At this point I had her stop and apply makeup as
directed. The last time I'd been concerned with her having a natural
look so her makeup had been underplayed. Now I wanted the young vamp
look, lot's of makeup but applied in a way that still left her looking
young and fresh. I selected a baby doll pink lipstick and blusher
combination and waited for her to apply it.
"More photo's?" She asked.
"Yep, Slave's gota earn her keep." I could tell she wanted to say
something but she seemed to change her mind and instead did what I
asked. I brushed her hair back into a ponytail. Much as I liked it
long I could tell that she was going to have to have it bobbed. Truth
was that long hair was hard to keep looking good without regular
styling, something I couldn't do easily myself. I figured I'd keep it
like this for a couple of weeks and then I'd have to do something
about it.
She finished up with a long pair of latex gloves which she pulled up
her arms as I finished prepping the camera. Now there was only one
thing left to do. With my fingers mentally crossed I put a pair of
earrings and a choker on the table and removed the collar. Caroline
was now completely free for the first time since I took her. She
seemed a little shocked and I noticed her glance fleetingly at the
dungeon door.
"It's locked," I said while I fiddled with the tripod. "You'd need a
torch to cut through it. Now put on the jewellery and stand over by
the wall."
She dragged her eyes away from the door and started to put on the
earrings. Remembering the lessons from yesterday she attempted to
slink over to the wall. However it became obvious that she missed the
ankle support of the leather boots and twice she almost fell.
Eventually she made it to the wall and stood awaiting instructions.
First I had her stand with her legs slightly crossed, hands on hips,
pouting slightly. The shot was nice, immediately establishing her as
a young rubber slut. As I'd hoped the crossing of her legs had forced
her thighs hard together and the latex boots, gloved hands and garter
belt formed a black latex frame for the triangle of her shaved cunt.
Her breasts strained against the rubber in a most appealing way and
the look on her face just screamed fuck me. I knew immediately that
this first shot was a "Pearson" and it seemed like a good omen for the
rest of the session.
Next up I had her face the wall then press herself against it like a
criminal being frisked. I took a shot but the composition lacked
something. I had her spread her legs more and I tried another. Still
not quite right so I had her turn her upper body slightly so that I
could see her face in profile. This worked much better so after
repositioning her hands and head I took the final shot. To my mind
this picture looks like a raid on a brothel. A young slut is thrown
against the wall still dressed in her fetishwear, her long mane of
blond hair almost down to her bare behind. She half turns towards the
young rookie cop left to guard her and makes her proposition. If he
looks the other way and lets her escape she'll be so grateful. She
only does this to pay her way through college, her mother would die if
she knew. If he lets her go she'll meet him later and show her
gratitude....
For the next shot I had her lie down her hot ass stuck up towards the
camera. I took a number of different shots with her looking back over
her ass towards the camera. I tried a number of different expressions
from surprise though lust to fear. The shot that finally worked for
me was one were I had her twist her body slightly towards the camera
and prop her head up with her gloved hand. The clothes, the pose, the
look all tell you this is a hot cunt just looking for a fucking and
the picture wasn't lying. Looking into Caroline's eyes I could see
that the sexual addiction I'd tried so hard to establish was finally
taking hold. She was wanting it bad which gave me an idea.
I had her stand and using the remote I programmed a track into the
sound system.
"Now slave we are going to try something freeform. I want you to
interpret the music for me just do whatever you feel." She looked
unsure so remembering my experience from last night I suggested that
she closed her eyes.
"Ok slave I want you to imagine this. You are still a student, and
have one day to get enough money to pay your rent or you loose the
apartment. One of your friends has told you of a club she works at
when times are tough. She says that they always need dancers and that
a girl willing to work at it can make some good money. You asked the
owner but he thinks you are too dowdy and plain. You beg you are so
desperate and in the end he gives you a trial; if you get a good
response from his customers he'll give you the job."
I could see her trembling, one latex covered hand had made it's way
down to her crotch and she was already rubbing the slick palm against
her hot lips. Encouraged I continued.
"You look through the wardrobe, they have all sorts of things, nurses
and cops uniforms, bathing suits but realising that you have to make a
good impression you pick the riskiest outfit you can find. It's slick
black rubber and it clings to your body like a second skin. You can
feel it's touch, smell the scent of hot rubber mixed with the sweat of
all the other girls who have worn it. Can you feel it slave?"
"Yes," She whispered. Her other hand had found her tits and a finger
was doing an orbit of the bump made by one of her erect nipples. She
was breathing heavily and I could tell she was almost ready.
"You're standing in the wings waiting to go on. There are about
thirty men in tonight most of them middle aged business men. You see
your friend dancing naked at one guy's table a bundle of greenbacks
clutched in one hand. She thrusts a tit almost in his face and he's
going crazy 'cos he isn't allowed to touch. Now it's your turn, the
manager passes you as he goes on to make the announcement. He nods
and makes encouraging noises. You feel nervous as you step out
feeling all those eyes on you. You stand ready knowing that your
future rests on the next ten minutes."
I punched the play button and the hidden speakers hummed into life.
There was a throbbing opening base rift and the song exploded into the
room. I'd chosen was the Divinyls track "I Touch Myself" to start
with and a couple of their others in case she kept going. The music
seized her immediately and she started to gyrate, touching herself as
she felt the need. I had a post in the room that I used for bondage
purposes and I started to wish that is was nearer. Caroline would
have made a hell of a pole dancer, she was sexy, seductive and even
with her eyes closed she looked as if she enjoyed it. I adjusted the
lights so that they shone directly at her, she would be unable to see
past them.
"Open your eyes sweetheart," I said. When she did I continued. "The
lights blind you but you know that beyond the glare, thirty guys are
watching you. You can feel their eyes on your skin, undressing you
even further. They all want you, you can feel their lust coming over
you in waves. Feel thirty imaginary pairs of hands caressing your
body, on your tits, on your ass, brushing your cunt."
She trashed around pouting seductively for the imaginary audience
caught up completely in her role. At times she was unsteady and
natural talent had to make up for her lack of technique but at that
moment she was a sex goddess and deep inside she knew it. I watched
captivated as she strutted the floor pausing to pose suggestively or
to touch herself again.
Then I suddenly realised that in my excitement I hadn't taken any
shots. I quickly started taking a series of her roving hands
drifting between tits and cunt. She arched her back eyes once again
closed one hand drifted up and released her hair which tumbled around
her shoulders. A quick quarter turn of her head and she flicked it
out so that the golden strands now covered her tits as well. Then
as I watched both hands drifted backwards towards the
straps that held the halter in place. It had been designed for easy
removal, always a consideration when the wearer is intended to be
bound. She found the release and it dropped away from her shoulders.
One arm kept it clutched to her body and then she started to move it
rubbing it's silky smoothness over her tits and belly. She arched her
back teasing the imaginary audience with a suggestion of breast all
the time getting the tactile stimulation from rubbing the latex
against her hot body. Finally she tossed it aside leaving her erect
nipples free to be played with. I focused in for a close-up as she
took both nipples between thumb and forefinger and gently rolled them,
then she flicked her head back and moaned. Again she arched her back
and one hand returned to her dripping box. Using the two outer
fingers to spread the lips she started to tickle her clit. She
slipped a finger inside, then two by now the moans were rapidly
becoming squeals. Two more quick photos, one a close-up of her finger
fucking herself the other showing her enraptured face so her identity
was in no doubt and I found myself out of film. I could account for
less than half of the 36 frames. Still I knew I had some hot shots
and I looked forward to seeing what else I'd taken.
Looking at her I could tell that she was close and I had already
decided that for the time being she should only cum by my hand. I
didn't like being a party pooper but it couldn't be helped. I pulled
a pair of handcuffs from my pocket and quietly came up behind her.
Not that being quiet was necessary the music was loud and she was too
far gone to care. I took the hand that was playing with her nipples
first, she didn't resist I don't think she even noticed as I closed
the cuff around it. Pulling it down behind her I grabbed the other
wrist. Now she resisted, she was so close she would have killed at
that moment. Still I was stronger and in a better position so after a
brief struggle I managed to cuff the other wrist in place. She
moaned and started to rub her thighs together. When that didn't work
she turned and started rubbing her cunt against the thigh of my
leather pants, I twisted her around. I had intended to deny her an
orgasm and keep her wanting it for the rest of the day but she had
danced so well I decided to give her a break. I twisted her to face
me, pulling her close until I felt one erect nipple embed itself in my
chest. Grabbing a handful of hair I twisted her head until she was
looking into my eyes. Then very deliberately I slowly finger fucked
her with my free hand. One finger tickled her clit as I thrust
another as deep as I could inside her. She clamped down squeezing the
finger tightly. Leaving my thumb to work on the nub I thrust two more
fingers inside and was rewarded by a gasp as she trust her hips
towards me. Then I slowly brought her off, listening to her cries as
the decibel level rose. All the time I was watching her emotions
though the lust glazed windows of her eyes. First came need mixed
with a little embarrassment. As she came closer the need started to
take over completely and her cunt started to clamp down even harder on
my leather covered fingers. Next came a look of rapture which
coincided with the spasm my fingers felt deep inside her. Then she
gave a look of fulfilment, a deep sigh and then she smiled in a dreamy
way. For a second there was something new and something totally
unexpected. For an instant before she broke my gaze there was
something that just possibly could be love.
I brought my gloved hand up to her mouth and had her suck the fingers
clean. This took longer than I'd thought and her little tongue
movements were deliberately suggestive. It also seemed that she liked
the smell of pussy juice and leather which is useful when you are
trying to make a girl into a leather slut. I lead her back to the
table and replaced the collar fastening it again to one of the chains
over the table. I freed her hands and for a moment considered
retrieving the halter. In the end I left her topless and busied
myself tidying up the dungeon. She sat on the edge of the table
licking the juices from her fingers deep in thought. In the end I had
to know.
"Ok out with it Slave."
"Sorry Master?"
"The little speech you're composing right now, I want to hear it."
She took a deep breath, "My college tuition, it's a scholarship."
I must have looked surprised, certainly that wasn't what I'd expected
her to say. It seemed as relevant to what had just happened as the
gross national product of Guam.
"So?" I asked.
"If I let it lapse then I won't get another opportunity. I know you
intend to keep me for some time, perhaps for years but sooner or later
you'll get tired of me and let me go. I want a future Master, I want
an education."
"So?" I must have sounded really stupid but the conversation was so
incredible I was lost for words.
She took another deep breath then said the rest in one breathless
sentence so as not to give me chance to interrupt. "If you let me go
back I'll be your slave. I won't tell anyone about what happened.
Please! During term time I'll be available any time you call and I
will happily return here during any breaks or holidays. After I
graduate you can keep me here as long as you want, I won't try to
escape, I'll do anything you want."
I looked into her eyes, there was a look of sincerity there that told
me she was serious. I should have told her were to get off straight
away but the evil part of my mind decided to play.
"Lets discuss this further," I said. "For the sake of argument lets
say I was disposed to agree to this. When you say anything I want
what do you mean?"
"Anything," She said flatly, "Anything at all."
I stood suddenly, she flinched, stood and stepped back as far as the
tether would allow. Perhaps she though I was about to hit her.
"Suppose I want piercings," I said remembering her reaction last time.
"Perhaps a little silver ring here and here." I touched her nipples
which became erect almost immediately. She breathed in quickly but
despite being unbound she made no attempt to stop me. "Perhaps one or
two down here as well." My finger lightly brushed her pussy lips.
She gasped, though it was unclear if this was in response to the words
or the touch.
"If that's what you want." She said eyes blazing.
"How about a brand?" I asked innocently, "Something to mark you as
mine, let those horny college boy's know that they are messing with
someone else's property." I could feel her stiffen.
"How about here," I said indicating a spot just above her right
nipple. A bra or regular dress would hide it, but itsy bitsy bikini's
or dresses with radical necklines would be out.
She swallowed, "Fine..."
Now I was intrigued I wanted to know just how far she would go.
"How about a baby," I said, "A son to carry on the family name. You'd
have to sign over complete custody rights to me of course..."
She nodded accepting even that and I realised then that she was
serious. I was stunned, never in all my plans had I envisioned this.
I was so surprised that I continued almost on auto pilot.
She said, "What if it's a girl?"
"Huh? Then we try again," I said off hand.
"And the child?"
I was starting to get irritated, I needed to think so my darkside
furnished a viscous answer. "I'm not interested in girls. I'll take
a boy child. If it's a girl you can look after it yourself, I don't
want to be stuck with your bastards."
It was a lie of course, as children girls are far more interesting
than boys. You can have an intelligent if somewhat bizarre
conversation with a little girl from the age of three or four. A boy
of that age is barely articulate. If at some time in the future my
slave were to give me a daughter the little tyke would have no trouble
twisting me around her little finger. My answer was through
irritation and I really didn't expect what happened next.
The effect on her was like a physical blow. She gave a little wailing
sound then she attempted to roll herself into a ball. Her legs
started to collapse under her and she fell like a stone. Under normal
situations it would be dramatic but she was chained to the ceiling at
the neck and the chain was short. I moved forward but being
preoccupied I wasn't fast enough. There came a twang as the chain
pulled tight followed almost instantly by a sharp crack sound and my
heart leapt to my throat.
