Chapter 5
I awoke on my stomach, my hips pressed deeply into the mattress, my hands still
chained securely behind my back. I closed my eyes, still feeling the traces of
the soldier's hands on my unprotected body, pushing myself against his imagined
touch. But I could not return to that palace archway, to that humiliating yet
exciting scene.
Still breathing heavily, I rolled to my side. It was time to get up.
I looked up at the painting, partially visible in the morning light that
filtered through my curtains. Had that girl been subject to the same
domineering, casual exploration of her body that I had experienced in my dream?
No doubt, I thought. As a slave, her body was available to the touch of any man
who found her of interest. And with her hands bound so tightly behind her back,
she had no ability to protect herself.
I sat up and swung my shackled feet over the edge of the bed, standing carefully
near my nightstand. I looked down, fixed the location of the key chain in my
mind, and then turned around and squatted down so my chained hands could reach
it.
Suddenly, as I balanced myself on my closely chained feet, I slipped and fell
backwards against the night stand, jarring it sharply. I caught myself with my
hands, struggled back up to my feet, and turned. The key chain was nowhere to
be seen.
Suppressing the urge to panic, I lowered myself gingerly to the floor and looked
around. Finally I spotted the keys, wedged between the nightstand and the wall.
I could only reach them by moving the heavy piece of furniture. I surveyed the
situation, my pulse quickening. The nightstand was pushed into a corner and
bordered on one side by the bed, which I would be unable to move in my current
state. There was no place I could position myself to push the nightstand out of
the way. I tried sitting with my back to it and pulling it away from the wall,
but with my bound hands I was unable to grasp it with any strength. I tried to
perch myself on its edge and tip it over onto the floor, but it was too low and
wide.
I lay on my back on the bed, my wrists pinned in the small of my back, now
breathing heavily. My mind was racing. The doorman had a key to the apartment,
but I could only imagine what he would think - or do - if he found me naked and
chained helplessly in my own bedroom. That left only Robert who had a key. I
was terribly embarrassed to be so blatantly caught playing out my fantasy. But
he already knew that something in me longed to be a slave. Besides, it might
even give him ideas. And in any case, I did need to get out of my apartment at
some point.
I slid off the bed again and made my way with tiny, careful steps to my desk. I
bent forward and pressed the speaker button on the phone with my nose, and then
pressed the speed dial button for Robert. Please pick up, I thought as the
phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Robert, it's me, Heather," I said, trying to sound normal.
"Hey, what's up?"
"Um, I'm having kind of a problem this morning. I need you to come over to my
apartment."
"Why, what's wrong?"
"I'll tell you when you get here." I didn't want to frighten him away. "Can
you make it over?"
"Well, OK, there's nothing at work that can't wait," he said.
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, and let yourself in. I'll be in the
bedroom."
"OK, whatever you say. See you soon."
"See you." I heard him hang up. I leaned forward and turned off the phone with
my nose again. My fate was in his hands. I felt a thrill of excitement at the
thought.
I thought about kneeling before the door, my knees spread for him, but decided
it was safer to try to cover myself as best as I could in the bed. I slipped
back onto the bed and tried to pull a sheet over me with my teeth, eventually
succeeding in getting it about to the level of my breasts. Well, there was
nothing there he hadn't seen before, I thought - except the collar around my
neck, and he would have to see that eventually. I lay under the sheet, my pulse
racing, waiting for him to arrive.
I heard the apartment door open, and then footsteps, and then the bedroom door
being pushed open. "Heather?" he said as he stepped into the room. His eyes
fastened on the steel collar locked around my throat. "What's going on? Are
you OK?"
Here goes, I thought. "Well, honey, I got myself a little tied up last night
... and then I lost the keys," I tried to say casually. They're behind the
nightstand - do you think you could get them for me?"
Instead of moving the nightstand, he stepped closer to the bed, looking down at
me. I felt momentarily weak, and vulnerable, chained helplessly before him.
"Tied up? What do you mean? How did this happen?"
I wriggled out from under the sheet and turned to my side so he could see my
wrist and ankle shackles as well as the collar. "Do you know how I offered to
be your slave the other night? I was wondering what it would feel like, so I
chained myself up before I went to bed last night. But in the morning, I
knocked the keys off and behind the night stand, and now I can't reach them."
He looked completely befuddled. "It's really embarrassing, and I wish it hadn't
happened, but could you please get the keys for me?" I tried to smile up at
him.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," he finally said, and crouched down to pull the
nightstand away from the wall. I took the opportunity to slip off the bed and
onto the floor, kneeling behind him, my thighs parted, my head bowed
submissively. He turned, the keys in his hand. "Here they --." His voice
trailed off. I felt his eyes fixed on my naked body.
"How can I repay you for this favor?" I asked timidly. He was silent. I lifted
my head. "You have me completely at your mercy," I continued. "Isn't there
some price you want to demand for my freedom?" I pulled my shoulders back even
further, lifting my breasts up toward him.
He spun the key chain around his finger. I could tell he was thinking. A trace
of a smile curled around the edge of his lips. "I'll think about it," he said,
and stepped around me, heading toward the door.
"Robert?" I called after him. "What are you doing?" There was no answer, but
I heard him doing something in the kitchen. A minute later he was back, and
once again I was kneeling before him, this time a bit more fearfully.
"I'm going to think about the price while I'm at work," he said, looking down at
me, an amused expression on his face. "I suggest you call in sick. I left a
bowl of food and a bowl of water for you in the kitchen. I think that should
work for you."
"You're going to leave me like this all day?" I said.
"Yes, I am," he answered. "And all day tomorrow, if I feel like it. If I have
any instructions for you, I'll call and leave them on your machine so you can
hear them."
I was too surprised to object. This was not something I had foreseen.
"Enjoy yourself," he said, smiling, as he turned and walked away. A moment
later I heard him locking the door behind him.
Damn, damn, damn, I said to myself. Now what had I gotten myself into. Well, I
had better make the best of it. I struggled back to my feet and made my way to
my desk, where I called the gallery and said I wasn't feeling well. Then,
realizing I was hungry, I walked carefully to the kitchen to see what my captor
had left for me.
I felt a shudder of excitement ripple through me when I saw the two bowls
sitting on the tiled floor. I smiled to myself. Robert would have me eat and
drink from a bowl on the floor. Perhaps he did want a slave girl after all. I
knelt down on the floor and bent forward slowly, my hair falling in front of me
as I dipped my tongue into the bowl. Cheerios. At least they were low in
cholesterol, I thought. After I had eaten half the bowl, I turned to the side
and began lapping water from the bowl into my mouth with my tongue. What a
sight I must make, I thought, the assistant director of a midtown art gallery,
kneeling naked on the floor of her own apartment and drinking water out of a
bowl on the floor.
I spent most of the day watching TV, kneeling on the floor against the couch,
occasionally turning around to point the remote control at the TV with my bound
hands. Never had I so wished I had more than basic cable. I tried taking a
nap, thinking I might slip back into my dream of the previous night, but this
time the discomfort of my bonds prevented me from falling asleep.
I did, however, have time to think about what might happen when Robert returned
that evening after work. Would he force me to serve him as a slave? Would he
throw me on my belly and take me, bound as I was? Or would he kneel me before
him like the girl on my bedroom wall, guiding my head onto him with his hand?
And when he was finished with me, would he release me, or would he leave me
chained to the bed, to await his return the next day and the day after that?
More disturbingly, I wondered if that was what I really wanted. Obviously, I
was turned on by the idea of submission, but would I trade my current life for
the life of a slave girl? I doubted it. I had too much invested in my life as
an independent woman - not just my career, but also my identity, my self-image.
I liked being smart and self-sufficient, a match for any man I went out with.
So what was I doing naked and chained in my own apartment, waiting for a man to
return and use me any way he wished?
The ring of the phone interrupted my semi-coherent afternoon musings. After my
message, I heard Robert's voice. "I'll be there a little after five. I expect
to find you kneeling with your back to the door, bent over with your head to the
floor. Do not speak or change position when I arrive." I heard him hang up.
The words sank into me. When he entered, I would be complete exposed to him,
ready to be taken from behind. I realized that I was wet thinking about it. I
rubbed my thighs together.
By five o'clock, I was nervous with anticipation and arousal. I positioned
myself on the rug in the entryway and knelt facing away from the door, making a
point to spread my thighs invitingly. I bent forward and pressed my forehead to
the floor, thankful for the partial cushioning provided by the rug. And I
waited.
I heard the key turning in the door. Suddenly a flash of panic shot through my
mind. Was it Robert? Could he have sent someone else to take advantage of me
and leave? The door opened and someone stepped into the apartment, closing the
door behind him. I wanted to say something, to turn and see who it was, but I
knew I had been commanded to remain silent and in position, open and available.
I trembled as I heard a zipper behind me. I could feel the wetness between my
legs, my body silently begging to be taken.
Then two strong hands gripped my hips and he plunged into me from behind,
burying himself in my softness. I gasped as he withdrew and thrust into me
again, over and over, my body a mere instrument of his pleasure. Then, too
soon, he pushed deep inside me, holding me in place by the hips, forcing me to
cry out in submission. He withdrew, and I collapsed on my belly on the rug,
barely able to breathe.
I felt a key turn in the lock on my right wrist, and the shackle being lifted
away, and then two hands turning me over by the shoulders. I looked up into
Robert's warm, smiling face. He leaned down and kissed me gently on the lips.
"Did you like that, sweetheart?"
"Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes," I whispered, lifting my arms and clasping them around
his neck.
"Well, maybe we can do it again sometime." He slipped out of my grasp and
unlocked my other wrist, and then my collar and ankle shackles. I rose up to my
knees and stretched my arms and legs, feeling the freedom of movement I had
taken for granted until today.
"Thank you for ... freeing me," I said, smiling coyly.
"You can repay me by buying me dinner," he said. He slapped me on the bottom.
"Get some clothes on. I'm starving."
"Yes, sir," I said, and skipped to the bedroom to put on jeans and a sweatshirt.
Over dinner in a local Chinese restaurant we talked about our days. He
complained about work, and I complained about having to watch daytime TV and eat
dry Cheerios. I felt happy inside as we walked back to my apartment. I had
confessed my secret to my boyfriend, and our relationship had survived. We
could act out my fantasies, and I could return to my life in the morning.
"The painting has to go," he said as we snuggled in bed that night. I lifted my
head from the pillow and looked at him. "It's really hideous," he explained.
"I can't believe you got the gallery to buy it."
"OK," I said. I didn't need it any more. I took one last glance at that naked,
collared slave girl and turned out the light.
***
The large hall was bathed in the light of torches set into the wall. In one
corner, a group of dark-skinned musicians coaxed sensuous melodies from a set of
instruments I did not recognize. The room was filled with laughing and shouting
in a foreign language, and with the gasps and cries of young women.
A man raised his hand and beckoned to me. The soldiers were sitting on the
floor at long, low tables, the remnants of their victory feast spread out before
them. They were being served by about twenty young women of the city they had
conquered, now their slaves. I rushed toward the man with my heavy pitcher of
wine, as quickly as I could given the shackles on my ankles.
I knelt next to him and lifted the pitcher with my chained hands to refill his
glass, trying to avoid the eyes of the other men at the table. I was thankful
for the thin, sheer, one-piece garment I had been given to wear. Although it
left little to the imagination, at least I no longer had to display myself
completely naked for these harsh men. Of course, there was no doubt about my
status; the collar on my neck left no question about that. I could feel their
eyes on the swell of my breasts and the soft flesh of my bare thighs as I knelt,
my knees spread as I had been taught.
I finished pouring the wine and tried to stand, but was held in place by the
man's hand in my hair. He pulled back and twisted my hair, forcing me to look
up into his eyes. He said something I didn't understand. Seeing my blank look,
he tried again in my language. "Hot slut," he said. "Want man." I nodded,
afraid to contradict him. He laughed. "Later." His other hand reached under
my tunic and grasped my breast possessively. I gritted my teeth and held my
position. Then he released me and pointed at another man. I rose and went to
refill his glass.
As far as I could tell, our duties so far had been restricted to serving food
and drink to the celebrating soldiers. But I knew that other, more demanding
services could be required of us. I expected the men had been commanded not to
enjoy our other uses until the serving had been completed - which would not be
long now, as the men were licking the sugar of their desserts off their fingers.
Although I dreaded the prospect of being raped by these cruel men, part of me
awaited my impending humiliation with a keen sense of anticipation. It would
consummate the slavery that I had begged for in the afternoon, that already felt
like my natural place.
General Halimar, commander of the troops - and the man who had stripped me naked
in my bedroom that morning - rose. He gave a short speech in his native tongue,
no doubt celebrating the exploits of his men, and mourning the loss of their
fallen comrades. Then he drained his glass, smashed it on the floor, and
clapped his hands, to the applause of the men.
The man whose glass I had filled a moment ago turned toward where I was kneeling
and beckoned again. Hesitantly, I approached and knelt before him, not
forgetting to spread my thighs widely, feeling the hem of my garment slide up to
my hips. I wondered how long I would be wearing it. I lifted the pitcher, but
he took it from me and put it on the table. He crouched in front of me and
reached up to the neck of my garment with both hands. I resolved that I would
obey him completely. I had no desire to be beaten.
I heard a woman's voice behind me. It was Raisa, the slave trainer. His hands
paused, not yet stripping me naked before him. They spoke for a few moments,
and then he stood up and stepped back, not before pinching my breast cruelly.
"Turn around," Raisa ordered. I turned toward her, still on my knees. She
reached down and clipped a chain leash to my collar. "The General wants to see
you," she said. "If you are not pleasing, I will whip the skin from your body."
She turned and led the way, leaving me to scurry as quickly as I could on hands
and knees. I heard the men laughing behind me, no doubt watching my exposed
bottom as I crawled away.
He was sitting on a long, high wooden bench against one wall of the hall. "Ah,
the young woman from the window," he said as I approached on hands and knees, my
head lowered before him. I felt a jerk on my leash, pulling me back up to my
knees. His boot pushed them further apart. "Well, my dear, do you have
anything to say to me?"
Raisa nudged me with her foot. "I beg ... I beg to please you, master," I heard
my voice saying. "Let me please you, master. Let me serve you any way you
wish."
He stood, and motioned me to rise. "Let's see what you have to offer me," he
said. I stood before him unsteadily, my eyes lowered. He raised his hands to
the neck of my thin garment and ripped downward, tearing it open all the way,
exposing my naked breasts and belly to him. He ripped the shoulder straps and
brushed the garment off me, letting it float to the floor. I stood just inches
from him, naked and unprotected. His hands cupped my breasts firmly and then
slid down my sides and over my hips, then over my thighs and to my most intimate
places. He laughed as he felt my wetness. "I see Raisa was right," he said.
"She knows slave flesh when she sees it." I blushed in shame.
He pushed me back down to my knees. "You may attempt to please me with your
mouth," he said generously. "Raisa, prepare her."
Raisa quickly unlocked my wrists from the manacles and pulled my arms behind my
back, tying my wrists tightly with a length of rope. My elbows were forced back
uncomfortably, causing my breasts to strain forward, helplessly offered. The
general lowered his trousers, revealing his large, erect manhood. I gathered he
enjoyed forcing captured slave girls to serve him in this humiliating way. He
perched on the edge of the bench, inviting me to fulfill my duty. It was time
to earn my slavery, if I hoped to survive.
Tears in my eyes, I wet my lips, widened my mouth, and lowered my face to him,
trying to imagine what would give him pleasure. I felt Raisa's firm grasp on my
leash, preventing me from rising and fleeing. I caressed him with my lips and
bathed him with my tongue, desperately hoping to be found pleasing. I closed my
eyes and abandoned myself to the feeling of his manhood in my mouth, worshipping
him with the absolute submission that only a slave girl can feel. I heard him
moan with pleasure and felt his hand clench in my hair, holding me firmly in
place.
As I devoted myself unconditionally to his pleasure, my feelings of dread and
humiliation faded, to be replaced by a new feeling, one that bordered on
acceptance. This was a man, a powerful man, who had taken my city with a sword
and defeated its men. As a captured woman, I was rightfully his, to do with as
he pleased. I could expect no other favor than to be enslaved and put to the
uses that slaves girls are good for. No one remained to protect me, and I was
powerless to protect myself. If I wanted to live, I would have to provide some
service to my new ruler, and if this was the only service I could offer, then I
would offer it unquestioningly. I felt a wave of arousal gather in my belly as
I bobbed my head up and down, feeling him grow inside me.
Sensing he was close, Raisa reached out with her hand and grasped the base of
his shaft, stoking his passion further. I felt his grip tighten in my hair,
pressing my face further down around him, and then he erupted, his passion
pouring into my mouth as Raisa stroked him skillfully.
And then a veil cleared before my eyes and I knew where I was. I remembered the
auction house where I had first seen the painting, and the first, fragmentary
dream I had had that night, and the days since then until that last day spent
naked and bound in my apartment, and the intervening nights when I had been
captured and enslaved in my dreams. I knew I was the slave girl in the painting
on my bedroom wall, and was wearing her chains on my ankles and around my neck,
and the semen dripping down her chin was overflowing from my mouth, still held
in place by the hand entwined in my hair. And though I knew this must be a
dream, I still swallowed as quickly as I could, using my tongue to clean off my
master and finally, when he released my hair and withdrew from me, bending down
to lick off the floor the drops I had let escape from my mouth.
"Thank you, master," I said, hoping for some word sign of approval. He pulled
up his trousers and pushed his foot in front of my face. I licked and kissed at
it eagerly.
"Give her back to the men," he said simply.
Raisa pulled me back up to my feet by my leash and pointed me back to one of the
tables. "Go beg to please them," she said, and slapped me on the bottom to
speed me on my way, but not before looping a cord about my neck, with a key
dangling from it between my breasts. I shuffled off toward the men, still in
shock from the use I had just suffered.
Since I knew this must be a dream, I was surprised that I had not woken up yet.
But I could not deny that I was content to let my fantasy take me where it
would.
As it turned out, there was no need to beg to please the men. One of them
grasped me by the arms and thrust me down over one of the tables on my belly, my
legs hanging off the end. I felt my breasts pressing against the rough wood and
heard the key strike the table's surface. A large hand pulled the cord over my
head. A moment later I felt my ankles being unchained and rough hands thrust my
legs widely apart. With my hands still bound behind my back, I was hardly able
to move from this vulnerable position, let alone resist what was being done to
me. I imagined the sight I must present to the men, my body completely open and
exposed to them. I gasped as the first man entered me, rocking my hips against
the table as he used me for his pleasure. I moaned, both in humiliation and in
satisfaction as I felt him deep inside me. He used me quickly and withdrew. I
felt another man enter me in his place.
Later that night, I lay on my back on the floor, my hands still pinned beneath
me. The last of several men had staggered off, finally satiated by me and the
other girls. I was sore all over, but not terribly so. I was ready to wake up.
With my hands tied, it was difficult to pinch myself, so I bit my lip as hard as
I could, but only succeeded in hurting myself.
I felt a boot nudging at my hip. I looked up to see Raisa. "Get up, slut," she
said. "The general wants you in his room." I moaned, but I did as she ordered.
Thankfully, she let me walk on my own feet, rather than crawling after her. She
took me to a large bathroom, untied my hands, and let me soak in a warm bath,
letting the sweat and stains of the last hours wash off my aching body. Too
soon, she pulled me out by the leash to dry off. Then she was leading me down a
long corridor and into a torch-lit room with a wide, low bed.
On her command, I climbed onto the bed and knelt, my forehead to the mattress.
I felt her pull my hands behind my back and tie them there. She attached my
long chain leash to a ring at the head of the bed. "Do not move," she said, and
left me with my thoughts.
Just this afternoon I had knelt in this same position, waiting for my boyfriend
to come and satisfy my fantasy. Now I was waiting for a cruel, harsh master to
come and abuse me for his pleasure. This time I truly was a captured slave
girl, desperately hoping to please her master, even if only in a dream. I
wasn't sure my body could take another assault after all it had endured already.
Maybe if I fell asleep, I thought, the dream might end. Surely you couldn't
fall asleep inside your own dream. But positioned so vulnerably as I was, I
could only think of the impending approach of my master, and the services he
might exact from me.
I did not have long to wait. I knelt, motionless, as his footsteps approached
the bed, and as I felt him position himself behind me. His hands stroked my
hips and once again explored my intimacies, feeling the returning wetness that
betrayed my readiness. Then he was inside me, using my body casually,
imperiously, for his pleasure, treating me as nothing more than so much warm,
soft, willing slave flesh. I felt him climax, and then he was finished with me,
rolling me off the bed. I fell on the floor on my side and shoulder, thankful
the bed was not higher off the ground. Then I felt a thin, rough blanket that
he cast partially over me. "Thank you, master," I said as I tried to adjust it
with my teeth, my hands still bound behind me.
I lay there awake, reliving the events of the evening, remembering the taste of
the master in my mouth, the feeling of being bent over a table, the hands on my
ankles thrusting them apart. I thought about that final rape I had suffered, in
silence, my body just a meaningless vessel for the general's casual pleasure. I
could not deny that that was what slaves were for, nor could I deny the arousal
I had felt, both awaiting him and held in his grasp.
I had learned something more about myself tonight, I thought, but now it was
time to wake up. I closed my eyes and finally fell asleep.
