BDSM Library - Short Stories for Slave abby

Music to Suit Slave abby

The Owner calls slave abby to his study. She knows what is expected of her: she knocks twice and waits for his call. He is not busy, it seems, for the call comes instantaneously this time: "Enter!"

Slave abby opens the door and takes one step inside, no further, just as she has been told many times in the past. She adopts her submissive, waiting pose: feet together, hands clasped loosely in front of her, head bowed towards the floor.

Today, the Owner has had her tie her hair into twin pony-tails on either side of her head. It is such a childish way for an adult to be wearing her hair. As she waits in her pose, slave abby's hair hangs down on either side of her face in front of her and she feels the burning flush of humiliation afresh. She remembers again that it is just such emotion that the owner likes to induce in her, and she finds that she is happy to feel humiliated, because it pleases him.

"Close the door, and come here," commands the Owner in his usual calm, unhurried and quiet tones. he rarely raises his voice but speaks with a simple, relaxed authority. Slave abby can sometimes only tell that he is displeased with her by a slight edge that creeps into his voice.

The Owner is reclining in his easy chair, not sitting at his deask as so often when slave abby enters. On his coffee table she sees rubber clothing. Not, she notes, items designed to cover much flesh. She is therefore ready in anticipation of his next command.

"Strip, and put these on," The Owner says, just as slave abby had predicted. She knows, now, better than to pre-empt his orders though. he has always had a tendency to change his plans if it seems that she has guessed them already, and always he changes them to the detriment of his slave when that happens. Now that the order is given, though, slave abby gladly obeys.

There is very little for her to remove. She was not allowed to put any underwear on this morning, and nor does she have anything on her feet. In fact, the only garment she has to remove to be completely naked is the long woollen sweater that she is wearing. Its length is the only concession to any sense of modesty she might have – and of course, she knows that her modesty is entirely irrelevant. So, all she has to do is remove the sweater.

Slave abby knows the Owner's preference. Even when he has her strip only as a means to an end, he prefers to see her take her time and make it slow and sensuous for him.

Since she has not been told to adopt any other posture, she knows she must keep her legs together and as straight as possible. She reaches down to the bottom of the sweater and gently begins to draw it upwards over her thighs, bunching it her hands as she goes.

As her hands lift over her hips, she feels the coldness of the air on her pussy. She is sure that the Owner will see that she is already damp there, in anticipation of what will come next. She thinks she has recognised one of the garments on the table awaiting her, and she has happy memories of its use. The problem is, she is not sure if this involuntary sign of desire and anticipation will draw any punishment from the Owner. It will do no good to try to avoid it, however, so she steadies herself and continues slowly to reveal her bare skin, enjoying the feel of the soft wool as it slides over her body. She knows that she should not be doing it like this, because the order was not given for her pleasure, but there are times (like this one) when she cannot resist the sensation. As the wool travels over the mounds of her bosom, stroking her nipples all the while, she sees in the Owner's eyes that he has missed neither her unwanted arousal nor her disobedience in pleasuring herself with the wool.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, knowing that she will face the Owner's corrective attentions, she finishes the deed, pulling the sweater over her head and demurely allowing it to fall at her feet, making as small and tidy a heap of it as she can without bending downwards. She returns briefly to her submissive pose.

Before she can proceed to the coffee table, the Owner speaks, "I saw what you did. Because I have planned this for a while, I will defer the punishment until this evening. As you know, a deferred punishment is double."

"Please, Master..." stammers slave abby, "Please punish me now!"

The owner simply shakes his head and gestures to the table. There is nothing for slave abby to do but to put on the rubber bra and panties she finds there.

The panties she thinks she knows. They are designed with buttplug and dildo in place, and she believes that somewhere about his person the Owner has the remote control that triggers the vibrations in these protuberances. Eagerly she slips them on, skilfully positioning the inserts so that they go perfectly into her holes. The buttplug is painful, for she was not aware that she would need to lubricate herself there, but she is practised at this and relaxes herself s much as she can to fit her anal ring around the rubber intruder. Of course, she is wet already for the dildo so that slides in with no trouble. As they settle in place, she adjusts the position of the panties to help them find a good position. She is feeling stretched in both holes, and even hurting a little in her behind, but it is in a comfortable way – or at least, a way to which she has grown accustomed. She realises that these panties are not quite the same as the pair with which she is familiar. They feel different over her groin, and she is not quite sure why. She puts the puzzle from her mind as she puts on the bra.

The Owner rises from his chair to help her, it seems, but that would be very odd. Normally he merely watches as slave abby does it for herself.

The reason is soon apparent. The bra straps require a padlock to fasten them together at the back. This is a garment that slave abby will not be able to remove without the Owner's use of the key. Slave abby observes also the extra straps that hang down her front and back. The front one starts between her breasts, and bifurcates to either side of her crotch. She cannot tell what the back one does, but it feels like it is a similar arrangement, linked at either side of the central padlocked fastening.

The eyelets that on the more familiar pair of panties were used for attaching chains now provide points for the attachment of the straps hanging down from the bra. Padlocks again provide the means of doing so, and now slave abby finds herself unable to remove either garment without the Owner's consent and use of the keys. Slave abby is more puzzled than ever. She still cannot quite figure out what is different about these panties, although she thinks that there is slightly more weight and more thickness to them over her mons veneris than she is to feeling there.

The Owner does have a remote control, but it is not for the panties. It is for the stereo system in the room. This is a state-of-the-art sound system, and carries much more power than is required to fill the room adequately. But the Owner likes to have loud music playing sometimes. Now, it seems, is one of those times.

A huge crash of sound fills the room, and slave abby jumps. But it is not only at the sudden volume, but because her arse, her pussy, her nipples and her clit were all assaulted by sensation, almost as if by electricity. The dildo and buttplug throbbed with the bass, her nipples fizzed with the treble, and the mid-range strummed across her clit. As the single chord fades, slave abby knows exactly what is different about her panties before the Owner speaks.

"As you see, there are vibrators in your bra and panties that respond to different ranges of sound. A lot of signal processing goes into the effect, but in general, the louder the noise, the bigger the vibrations, and the higher the pitch, the higher the frequency of the vibrations. Your butt and pussy will feel the bass instruments best; your clit will feel the middle registers best, and your nipples will enjoy the higher notes."

Slave abby whimpers. The Owner has devised a way to combine two of his great pleasures. Music, and slave abby. And she is sure that she will perform a unique dance for him now, as he cues up the stereo with his favourite tracks. Just as she expects, the owner retires to his easy chair again, and flicks the control.

He has chosen a piece he knows well, and that will stimulate at various times every part of slave abby. It is a symphony, and slave abby has never known him to listen to a piece in his study without letting it play to the end. She will be driven wild for an hour or more, and all for his entertainment. She whimpers again as the slow, quiet opening plays through, just gently teasing her with the soft touch of the vibrators – hardly moving at all, they lightly massage her nipples. Deeper instruments join in, and the music begins to row a little louder. She knows this piece. It will keep her hanging on the edge, desperate to come, throughout the first movement. The owner has chosen well, because the second movement starts fortissimo. As she begins to melt into the caresses of her costume, she can see the whole piece playing out before her...she can see herself coming, she can see how many times, at what points in the music, and she can see how she will writhe with desperation through the passages in between. She knows that the owner has planned this so carefully, in the most minute detail, to play her just as if she was another instrument in the orchestra...

Slave 430811, abby, responded, "i adored that story. it made me cringe. it is so humiliating!"

Music to Suit Slave abby (part 2)

Slave abby is woken by the sensation of the owner's fingernails lightly scraping over the welts from his caning of her last night. She whimpers from the reminder of the pain that blazed to create them in the first place.

The Owner always has her sleep on her front when he has caned her hard, as he did for the deferred punishment regarding her illicit pleasure in stripping yesterday. She is not given covers, but has the heating in her room turned up so that she can be safe and snug without. The owner has explained to her in the past, that this is not for her comfort. Of course not! No, it is to allow him even in the middle of the night to inspect and admire the product of his handiwork with the cane. The light remains on in the room, of course, and slave abby must sleep with a blindfold to prevent it keeping her awake. Her wrists are shackled to the head of the bed and her ankles at the toe end. Other arrangements are possible when there has not been a caning in the day, and the Owner is most particular about ensuring that he uses other punishments if he has specific plans for slave abby's sleeping arrangements.

The Owner releases slave abby's limbs one at a time, finally tying her hands behind her back and lifting her to her feet. She hardly needs him to guide her to the bathroom for her morning ablutions, she has walked it blindfold so many times.

Once she is clean, slave abby is returned to her room where finally the blindfold is removed, and her hands freed. This is the moment at which she discovers what the Owner wishes her to wear today.

She almost weeps when she sees what he has chosen. Her punished behind will scream with agony under the itchiest wool suit in her wardrobe. The Owner had her knit it herself, and she knows just how punishing it can be. She turns her eyes pleadingly towards the Owner, but his face is cold and stony. Close to tears, she reaches out and lifts the suit.

Beneath it is the set of musical underwear from yesterday. The cool rubber will surely not be as harsh on her welts as the wool might have been, but it will press harder and tighter. There will be no escape from the constant agonising reminder of last night's beating. To be made to perform her lewd dance of arousal and multiple orgasms, as she had done yesterday, while still feeling the horrid burning of her punished arse – she can scarcely bear the thought. She knows again that the owner is as cruel as she ever wished him to be – and more so. She chose him above all others, and she loves to feel his will exerted on her, but the price he makes her pay is more than she had ever realised when she agreed to wear his collar.

She winces as the rubber presses against her injured buttocks and the inserts slide into her body (she knows now why the Owner bothered to lube her anus before bringing her back here). She is barely able to keep from fidgeting as the Owner locks her into the music suit. She knows that if she does, she will be punished again, and it will most likely be another deferred punishment because this outfit is clearly intended for a specific plan.

Then slave abby puts on her wool suit. It is designed so that it looks decent and respectable to the outside world, and gives no clue as to its demonic effect on its occupant. The collar of the suit fits over slave abby's collar, hiding it from those who would not understand. The zipper padlocks to her collar, making it impossible for her to remove it. Almost at once, the wool begins to scratch and itch.

Slave abby follows the Owner downstairs and looks hopefully towards the kitchen. But she has been allowed to sleep late, and missed breakfast. She is thankful that she was allowed to eat well the evening before. Then she wonders how much the Owner has planned in advance, how long his carefully choreographed scheme will go on – and how long ago he might have planned it. She does not have long to ponder these questions, though. The Owner's agenda will not be delayed.

She swallows heavily when she sees that he is standing in the hallway, and has pulled on his overcoat. She never expected to be going out in public today, but his words leave no doubt: "Come on, petal, we are going shopping!" He has explained that he calls her petal in public because it is a term of endearment where he comes from, and also because the first syllable is "pet". And she is in many ways like a pet to him. She likes those times where he lets her curl up beside him on the sofa like a cat, or lie at his feet like a contented, well-behaved bitch. She took the name "pet" to herself, he often reminds her, so she must fulfil that role whenever he desires.

Slave abby slips on a pair of shoes and a light jacket that the owner selects for her, and then they step out into the world beyond.

Normally, the owner likes to be chauffeur-driven by his slave, but today he takes the wheel himself. Poor slave abby soon discovers why: it is not only music that will trigger the sensors in her music suit. The sound of the car engine starting sets off the dildo and buttplug. As the drive in to town, she soon discovers that her clitoris and nipples will not escape attention either: as the engine climbs in revs, so does the pitch and so the focus of the vibrations in slave abby's body shifts. There is always a bass-y note to the sound that keeps the dildo and buttplug ticking over even at high revs. But as the engine note shifts, first the clit vibrator becomes strongest and then the nipple vibrators. Slave abby cannot possibly be allowed to drive in the music suit, and this is soon demonstrated. She is hopelessly aroused as the Owner turns the car into the multi-storey car park, and she feels the vibrations focus once more in her nether regions as the Owner runs at low revs to find a parking space. The car park is busy today, and she is silently pleading for a space to open up before she orgasms. She is long past the point now where the itching is an impediment to her arousal, and the same goes for the stripes of pain on her backside. On the contrary, they have been adding to it and in reality she has no hope. Even before they climb out of the car, slave abby has cum. Perhaps it is for the best, though. If she had cum after getting out of the car, there would have been several witnesses.

She grips tightly on the Owner's arm, unsteady after her experience in the car. He accepts it for a little while, but soon shrugs her off. He likes her to show her need for him in this way, but quickly grows tired of it. He takes her hand in his, in a more mature fashion. She notes that he has worn leather gloves and that he may very well fondle her through the day, without fearing the effects of the wool on his own hands. However mature the handhold may be, to those who care to look closely the relationship is obvious. The Owner strides confidently, while little slave abby hangs upon his every movement for guidance and direction. She is either his submissive or his child. Her hair is tied like yesterday, and combined with the wool suit it adds to the impression of the latter. But she is obviously an adult, too. Most people would dismiss her as simply someone who refuses to grow up. A few would see her for what she really is: an owned slave. Always this is the way when she leaves the confines of home.

Together, they head for the mall. Slave abby did not expect this, but one thing springs into her mind as they grow closer: malls always have music in the background, and her underwear responds to music.

The mall is worse than she imagines, and this is all down to the echoing acoustics that the high vaulted ceiling provides. In addition, there are more people than she realised and a crowd so often generates a hum. This one was buzzing at just the right pitch to trigger her clit vibrator. When the thing starts up gently against her nubbin, she jumps and gasps aloud, to the astonishment of several people close by. She knows that she must control herself. Another factor enters the equation: the Owner's shoes are smart and new, and every time they land on the mall's hard floor they send up a clacking noise that buzzes in her nipples briefly. Every footfall is like a teasing flick across her breasts. And still she must follow on, and keep up, paying as little heed to these stimuli as she can. It is impossible, of course. She is still highly aroused after cumming in the car, and feels the most minute sensations all over her body. It is all she can do to continue walking almost normally, and keep up with the Owner, as the bars across her arse scream at her, the wool drives her skin to distraction and her clit and nipples are under constant low-level bombardment by the sounds around her.

*****

Oh, how slave abby aches for relief! Oh, how she wishes that she could let herself give in and cum! The Owner has kept her in this hellish state for an hour as he meanders from shop to shop, never finding exactly what he desires. He can be a perfectionist at times, slave abby knows, and this seems to be one of those times. He has asked her opinion on a couple of items, which he does sometimes to check that she remembers what he has told her, and sometimes because he is genuinely interested to know. Slave abby is glad that, whichever it is this time, she seems to have passed. She has no recollection of any reply she gave as her memory is swamped by the dreadful fires in her loins as she yearns for a chance of privacy and to let herself climax.

At last, the final straw arrives. At the far end of the mall, a string quartet has set up to play. As the cellist tunes his bottom string, it triggers buttplug and dildo, and the combination is too much.

"Oh, oh, oh my God!" cries slave abby in the middle of the crowded shopping mall, and collapses writhing on the floor. She is gasping for breath with the ecstasy of the release. Passers by look on in amazement, and one even offers to call an ambulance, convinced that she has gone into labour. Her red face and desperate expression do nothing to dispel this theory, but the Owner is confident and calm as ever, explaining away her seizure with lines that sound to slave abby as though he had them prepared a long time ago. To her, the world is a daze, she cannot focus on anything, and she is only aware that she has made an exhibition of herself, and that the Owner has arranged the whole thing just so that she would.

He puts his arm around her waist and helps her to her feet. He kisses her lips tenderly and she glows inside.

"I think I've got everything I wanted now," he whispers, "Let's go home."

Slave abby's Headaches

The Owner calls slave abby into his study, as usual. She pleases him with her deference and posture, that she always shows when he does this. She is pleasantly surprised when he pays attention to her straight away. Although he appears to be working at his computer, he speaks to her immediately.

"Put on the item of clothing laid out for you," he says, and slave abby does so. It is a rubber pair of panties, with a slit to provide access to her privates. She looks at them in fear, for she sees what looks like a battery pack attached to them at the rear, and metallic elements in strategic positions. She does not like electric shocks, and the Owner knows this. She fears that she has displeased him somehow, and that she is to be punished in a way that the Owner knows will dismay her. Even so, she does not hesitate for more than a heartbeat before pulling the panties over her bare skin, putting the various attachments right up against her skin. They press against her labia and her groin, also. The Owner then hands to slave abby a similarly equipped bra that she has to put on. She is almost in tears now, believing she knows what will happen next.

She is wrong, and she is amazed when the Owner rises from his chair and walks over to her, and starts caressing her tenderly. In her heart she tells herself that this is just like the Owner: he will lull her into a false sense of security, and then he will shock her when she is at her most vulnerable. But he does not stop.

She can feel his fingertips through the bra, tickling and working at her nipples, and she sighs. She is unsure about what posture she should take, but the owner has not told her to do anything but stand there, so she waits as he carefully handles her breasts, beginning to smile and enjoy the sensations despite her fears.

She is becoming aroused, and the Owner is obviously pleased by this: slave abby gives herself up to the arousal, knowing that it is futile to try to prevent the punishment that she still believes will occur. The Owner moves one hand to her crotch, and lightly fiddles with slave abby's clitoris. He knows his slave's reactions so well by now, that she is soon moaning with pleasure. Now he makes her bend at the knees, until she is kneeling before him. Slave abby opens her mouth to receive his cock, as so many times before, but he does not seek her mouth this time. He is kneeling also, and using his hands with such consummate devotion to pull slave abby deeper into arousal. She no longer knows what he intends to do to her, but she wants to enjoy the moments of pleasure while they last. She can see that the owner's penis is rigid, but he has not yet unleashed it. She dares not hope that he will fuck her here, in his study. She has serviced him with her mouth here, but rarely does he give her any direct pleasure from his cock, not here in his sanctum.

And yet, he orders her to place her head upon the carpet, her elbows and hands on the floor. Now, in her prone position, he feels her breasts through their rubber bra; he fondles once more her clitoris and her labia, and then kneels behind her. While he removes his trousers, she fills with pleasure that she is to be granted such an unusual privilege, and then she feels his cock pushing between her pussylips, barging its way into her tunnel as she loves for it to do so. She moans with pleasure, communicating her joy in primal vocalisations. The owner slides his cock back and forth within her, sensuously, teasingly, almost making her beg for it. But she feels his pace quicken, and her own arousal begins to accelerate towards the inevitable. As he begins to bang into her, as she feels him using her rather than loving her, she cums with a guttural cry; she rides it out, using her body as so often before to bring on her Owner's orgasm, yearning to feel his seed inside her…but he has already withdrawn. He is still rock-hard and erect, and has not cum in her as she desired. Her face even after the pleasure of her own climax, is a picture of dejection: why does he not wish to fill her with his semen? He dismisses her, and returns to his computer.

He does not allow her to remove the panties and bra for the rest of the day. She must wear them, he says, at all times except when being cleaned. He explains during the day, that they are loaded with sensors that monitor her body's reactions to stimuli. He is recording, he says, the signature of her orgasm, so that his computer will be able to tell whenever she has, or is about to have, an orgasm. Slave abby feels trapped more than ever before. She knows she is not supposed to cum without permission, but never before was there a way that the owner could keep tabs on her if he was not present. But now he could make sure that she was safely locked up in the recording panties, perhaps with some other garment locked over them to make sure, and then even when he left her alone, he would know if she had transgressed. Her heart sinks.

*****

Over the next two weeks, the Owner makes slave abby cum for him time and again, over fifty orgasms in the space of fifteen days. She feels exhausted but pleased: normally the Owner rations her climaxes sparingly, as if they were in limited supply. She knows that she cums only for his pleasure, and normally that means he prevents her cumming for her own pleasure. Now, though, he brings her off almost more often than she can bear. And she always knows that every orgasm is recorded by the computer, and is a further nail in the coffin of her occasional freedom and rebellion.

*****

At last, the Owner is satisfied that the computer can identify when slave abby is on the verge of climax. He brings her once more to his study. This time, he adds to her outfit a helmet: a punishment helmet, it seems to slave abby. She has worn such things many many times. He pulls it on over her head, and she finds her vision blocked. She is gagged by it and only able to breathe through her nose. The Owner fastens it tightly, and slave abby feels then the tight pressure of many conic metal studs on the inside of the helmet, pressing on her scalp. It is painful and restricting, and she thinks she likes it. She does not have any idea what its purpose could be, except to add a new dimension of sensation to a favourite form of bondage.

Oh! And how delightful when the Owner fondles her in her intimate areas again; no matter how many times she has cum, it is always a joy to her to be thus the focus of his attention. He does not spend long on such foreplay, though. Once he has bound her wrists, he forces her to kneel and, kneeling before her, he forcefully takes her as his property – which is, of course, all she is. Oh, how the sensory deprivation focuses slave abby's awareness on the meaty shaft, the iron rod, that pounds into her cunt! Oh, how she rides with joy the treasure of being in his study, being fucked by the man who owns her, and unable to stop him or see him, but only feel his energy and his manhood!

She feels herself reach the precipice beyond which lies the ecstasy of orgasm…

And her head explodes with pain, as each one of those studs delivers an electric shock to her skull. It is only mild, but the headache it induces is unbelievable. Slave abby screams into her gag, but there is hardly anything audible. Her eyes fill with tears, and she struggles in the grip of her owner; but he ignores her agony and fucks her harder. And through the pain, slave abby finds that she still orgasms, and is almost ashamed to find that she has done so just as the Owner spurts forth his cream into her hungry pussy. She wishes she could see the Owner's face, and know whether he is triumphant at the completion of his diabolical scheme, or if he shows sympathy for slave abby for what he has done to her, or if he is comforting her…

She never knows it, but it is all three, one after the other. After he smiles devilishly, his eyes soften; and at last he strokes her body gently. She warms to his touch, relieved that he does care, that he is not purely cruel, but is kind as well, and that she belongs to him and is his pet.

He explains that she will have to repay him for each of the 50 orgasms she had before, by cumming that many times while wearing the headache helmet. And then, whenever he wishes her not to cum, he can put her in the helmet and sensor panties, and she will not dare, for the hideous pain that it will induce if she does.

"Yes, Master," she sighs, as her slavery is reinforced again.

*****

This story is inspired by the medical condition Benign Orgasmic Headache Syndrome, which is a real condition that affects roughly four times as many men as it does women. The moments before orgasm, when the climax is almost certain to occur, triggers migraine-strength headaches. There is no known cause for this syndrome, and the only way to get rid of it is to abstain from orgasms for a while, and hope that it has gone by the time you have your next one.

*****

slave abby responds: " i was sloppycrotched over what you wrote"

Petting Slave abby

Part 1

Slave abby awakes to the feel of the Owner removing her collar. There have been times when she has begged, wailed and cursed at him to set her free, to end her slave status, to let her be who she was before…but she never believed it would happen, never really wanted it to happen. That he should do this for no reason that she can fathom is heartrending in the first few moments after sleep.

"Hush, slave," he says as she whimpers her grief, "It is not gone, merely replaced with another. After you are clean." Slave abby has slept in chains, leg irons and manacles, and she must make her way to the bath in these. There, they are removed to allow her to be thoroughly cleansed.

Bathing slave abby involves cleaning both outside and inside. First she is soaped and scrubbed beneath the cold shower, with a brush whose bristles are at once punishing and sensual. Then she must take an enema that ensures that her body is cleansed within. The owner takes great pleasure in towelling her off, drying her assiduously all over, and most often he takes the time to touch her tenderly in her most private regions, or to tweak and stroke her nipples so that she begins her day in a state of arousal. She knows that she will rarely be given any relief for this early turn-on, but she enjoys it nonetheless. So far, the day begins much as any other.

The owner commands slave abby to kneel before him. She does not know what he wants, but imagines that he will use her mouth as so often before, though rarely has she had to swallow his cum so early in the day. It will feel strange to do it without the comforting metal around her throat.

Instead, the Owner wishes to address her, and give her now the alternative collar that he promised her as she awoke.

"My slave," he says, "You have often called yourself my pet, and it has pleased me to let you do so. But now you are to act like a pet, and spend the day as my little kitten abby. Here is your cat collar." He speaks truly, for the replacement collar is a simple felt band with a catch to fasten it, and a little bell attached to the front. The owner has modified the catch slightly, so that it can be held shut with the aid of a padlock. This collar is just as permanent as the other, if the Owner chooses it to be so. He lifts slave abby's chin so that she is looking upwards into his eyes, and he playfully tinkles the bell, and tickles her under her chin. He looks expectant.

"You are my kitten abby now," he reminds his slave, "so act like it." Kitten abby makes a purring noise as he repeats the action, but the Owner does not seem satisfied. He only smiles and nods – indicating a job well done – when kitten abby nuzzles her cheek against his hand. He strokes her hair just as if she was a cat, and she purrs again. She likes that sort of stroking anyway, and she recognises it is her reward for learning her role today quickly.

Kitten abby thinks that her preparation is over for the game, but she is wrong. Next, the owner brushes her hair, normally done back in the bedroom after her shower and enema. Now, though, he has managed to fashion using hairbands and clever techniques, a pair of cat's ears for kitten abby, from her hair. The effect is not perfect, but when he shows kitten abby her new hairstyle in the mirror, she feels ashamed at what he is turning her into. She dreads that he will draw a little button-nose and whiskers onto her face, but he tells her that he likes her face the way it is, and kisses her to prove it. Kitten abby knows that, though she will play the role of a kitten, she will still be a sex slave today. She feels a curious sense of relief at this.

Next, the owner has kitten abby hold out her front paws. He slips mittens onto them, that bind her fingers quite closely together, and immobilise her thumbs. There is a stiff ridge running down the back of her middle finger, that prevents her from flexing her fingers very much at all. "After all," says the Owner, "There are no cats with opposable digits!" He does not want kitten abby to be able to hold anything while she is his kitten.

Now at last kitten abby thinks that he has finished preparing her, for he tells her to get down on all fours and take up the posture that she will adopt for much of the rest of the day. But she is mistaken again, for he has one more detail to finish it off.

"My kitten needs a tail," he says, and he prepares a buttplug for kitten abby's backside, to which is attached a thick black rope, similar in kind to those used at stately homes to cordon off areas from the public. It hangs not quite to the floor. He is not yet satisfied, however, for to it is attached some strong elastic. This fastens around the lower part of kitten abby's thighs, so that the tail stays dangling between her legs, and coincidentally, her movements are a little restricted by the elastic. Since she is on hands and knees, kitten abby is not going to be the most mobile person anyway, but this ensures that she will find it difficult to get up onto two legs, even if she wants to.

"Now you are ready to be my pet," says the Owner, and kitten abby lets out a sigh that might have been a purr. Even she herself does not know if it is a sigh of gratitude, or of acceptance of her humiliating state.

*****

Because, in her current state, kitten abby is not as nimble as a real cat, the owner carries her down the stairs to begin the day. She follows him on all fours until he goes into his study. This is his sanctum, where slave abby is not allowed unless he calls for her. Kitten abby pauses at the door, unsure of what to do. The Owner smiles at her instinctive obedience.

"You are a kitten today, and in that role you are welcome to come and go as you please. But if you knock anything or damage anything, you will pay and pay and pay, understood?"

"Yes, Master," says kitten abby, and instantly receives several sharp slaps to her bottom.

"You are a kitten, and kittens don't speak," explains the Owner to his tearful pet.

"Miaow," she mournfully replies, and the Owner pats her head and strokes her hair just as he would to reward a real cat. She purrs for him, pleased that her momentary lapse has not ended their play already. She follows him to his desk, where he sits to work. She is desperate for his attention; she does not like it when he works, because normally she is locked in another room, perhaps to do boring, everyday chores that do not fill her with anything but monotony. She does them, because she knows that the Owner likes the thought of her naked or fetish-clad body as she carries out these tasks. But she has been spared that today. She thinks it means that she can play with her Master, that he wants her around him.

She behaves like a cat seeking attention, brushing her cheeks against the Owner's legs beneath the desk, purring and the like. She is shocked when the Owner acts like a man who does not wish to be thus disturbed by a cat: her aims a kick at her. Not a hard one, but it connects with her belly and she feels it as harshly as any rebuke. She whimpers and mews with the pain, but crawls away to nurse her wounded hopes and body. She leaves the study, and wanders through the home, looking for some way to please the Owner, but she can find no task that she could perform while her hands and her legs are bound as they are. And besides, it is not catlike to do helpful tasks unless it is to chase mice, and with her legs tied together with elastic, kitten abby is hardly capable of doing that. Besides, there are no rodents in this home. To be helpless and useless and ignored, she feels, is terrible. She finds her way back to the study, where the Owner is engrossed in his work. She knows better than to try to attract his attention again, and she wonders what she could do.

There is a fire in the study, and she realises that the Owner has lit it while she was elsewhere. The day is cold, and kitten abby welcomes the heat. She realises also that the Owner may have turned the heating down deliberately. She knows what he wants her to do.

Kitten abby curls up on the rug in front of the fire. The heat is lovely and toasty on her back as she curls up and adopts that position so familiar to cat owners everywhere. She decides to close her eyes and snooze, and as she does so, she sees the Owner look up at her briefly and smile, before he returns to his work. She feels contented – she has pleased the Owner, her butt is filled and she is comfortable and warm.

There she lies, half asleep on the Owner's fireside rug, peaceful in the knowledge that she is in his company, even though he is not directly playing with her. She does not know how long she lies there, but she begins to feel the urge to pee. She rises, and makes her way to the downstairs loo, but is dismayed to find that the Owner has locked it. In this home, the locks are designed to keep her out until the Owner wants to let her in, and he keeps the keys. Her bodily functions are not private from him. But now it is a problem: she is not permitted to speak, and with her legs bound as they are she cannot negotiate the stairs. She begins to panic, but decides that she must try to communicate in catty-speak to the Owner what her problem is.

Kitten abby miaows at the Owner, and when he looks, she dares to gesture at her crotch and tries to mime peeing. He looks slightly peeved, but he asks, "Do you need to relieve yourself?" Grateful that he has understood, kitten abby nods.

"Then come with me." The Owner leads kitten abby to the utility room and shows her the arrangements he has made: they are appropriate for a cat. He has created for her a large litter tray and put plenty of kitty litter in it.

"There you are," he says, "You may come here for your business." Kitten abby mews, which might have been "thank you" or it might have been an expression of dismay. Her cheeks flush with humiliation as she squats, and finds that the rope of her tail is then inconveniently placed (the elastic doesn't help either). She finds that she has to stretch herself over the litter tray, and place her hands in it as she releases her pee into the dry, gravely substance. She is only glad that it is absorbent enough to keep her from having to touch her urine. The Owner stands by and watches as she does so, interested by how she handles the situation. Then he leaves her and returns to his work.

Kitten abby finishes her pee, and returns to her warm spot by the fire, until she feels thirsty. She has already seen the bowl of water in the kitchen, and goes there immediately. she soon discovers that here she has no choice but to lap it up like a kitten should: her hands are so well bondaged that she cannot reliably lift the bowl without spilling the water, and if she does that then she will be left extremely uncomfortable for many days afterwards by the punishment the Owner would mete out to her. So she bends forwards and does as the Owner desires: behaves like a cat.

This is how kitten abby spends her morning.

When lunchtime arrives, she is hopeful that here at least she will be able to have some form of humanity, but of course it is not to be. The Owner has carefully created a dish that resembles catfood in texture and appearance, but is safe for humans to eat. This he scoops into a dish for kitten abby, who miaows mournfully at him, but realises that she has no chance of anything else until she has eaten her food. The Owner treats her miaow as if she was a greedy cat asking for more, and tells her that she is not having more. She bows her head in acknowledgement, and bends her face to the dish to eat up. Of course, she finds that her chin and nose receive more than their fair share of the meal, because a human face is not designed like a cat's face. But she manages to eat the meal placed before her as the Owner enjoys a much more substantial and normal meal.

When the Owner finishes, kitten abby gestures helplessly at her face. She wants the Owner to clean her up. But he shows her instead that the backs of her mittens are cloths suitable for the task...all they need is moisture. He tells kitten abby to do what cats do. She licks the back of her mitten, and makes it damp enough to wash her face of the bits of her dinner that have stuck to it. She has only one way of getting rid of the food that is now stuck to the mitten: she has to suck it out of the mitten and swallow it. This she does.

"Now, kitten abby," says the Owner, "Let's get you groomed for this afternoon!"

END OF PART 1

Petting Slave abby

Part 2

The Owner takes his kitten back into the study. There, he settles onto the sofa in front of the fire and invites kitten abby onto his lap. Of course, with the elastic between her legs, she cannot climb up without help, but soon she is sprawled across his lap, stretched out along the sofa as according to his wishes; his own efforts being required to get her there, but he is happy with her. He has with his a rubber cat-grooming device. It is a pad of rubber covered in small cones of rubber with rounded tips, each one maybe an inch long by half an inch across at the base. Kitten abby is face down on the sofa, and cannot see what he is holding, so it is with a start of surprise that she feels it resting at the base of her neck.

Slowly, tenderly, even lovingly, the Owner draws his hand all the way down along her spine, the rubber spines of the groomer sending tingles all the way through kitten abby's body. She sighs deeply as he lifts his hand and does it again, this time tracing a line in a slight curve, slightly wide of her spine. The sensation is indescribable for kitten abby; she finds it wonderful and exhilarating as her Master takes such assiduous care over her, making sure that every part of her back is reached by his efforts.

When he is done, and kitten abby feels the cold-warm feeling in her body of the rubber on her skin, and the stimulation it caused, he eases her back so that she is now crouched on her haunches, in a position of worship or abasement. He has done this because he can now reach around her body and under, and there he finds her belly and her breasts hanging beneath her. Oh! how kitten abby loves it as those rubber fingers play all over her chest and torso! How she squirms with delight at the feel, until a couple of sharp slaps on her behind inform her that the Owner wishes her to stay still. She moans softly, but the Owner taps her warningly, and she makes a noise deep in her throat, exactly like a cat purring. She is loving the attention she is receiving, and she loves that she must express herself only in those terms allowed her by the role the Owner has given her.

It is ecstasy when the owner uses the groomer to stroke over her buttocks and, oh, the delight as he traces it between her legs and over her pussy. Kitten abby almost melts at that point, would do anything to keep it there, to be able to rock herself against it and to make herself come... But the Owner takes it away almost immediately and it does not return. Instead, he announces that this part of her grooming is done. Kitten abby forms the question in her mind, "this part?"

The owner lifts kitten abby onto the floor and goes to the small wardrobe in his study. There, he reveals what he has prepared for kitten abby next. It is a woollen suit, all in black, and it is for her to wear. He beckons his kitten to come over to him, and she eagerly does so.

"Just briefly, kitten abby," he says, "You have permission to stand on two legs." he helps her to do so. He unties the elastic on her legs and eases the buttplug from her backside. Kitten abby gasps with pleasure as she is briefly stretched and then feels her anus gradually returning to normal. It seems that she has lost her tail, for the Owner places the buttplug in a clean bag and puts it away in his desk. Now, he has kitten abby put on her suit. It is an ingenious design, for on the inside it is itchy wool that slave abby loves as torture-wear, but the outside is covered with the softest silk, so that she can be stroked by the Owner without any adverse effects for him. It is open at the crotch, and kitten abby finds that she is to have a tail for the afternoon, but a different one. Kitten abby needs help to get into the suit, because she still does not have the use of her hands. The suit padlocks onto her collar, and the bell jingles as kitten abby is locked into her kitten suit.

This tail also has a buttplug at one end, but the tail itself is formed of plastic, and is a long curling rod that stretches up her back. The owner demonstrates its usefulness to him, by gently teasing it around. Kitten abby squeals as she feels the plug moving inside her rectum. She is glad that it is smaller than the one she wore in the morning. The Owner is pleased with his new-look kitten abby; he tells her that she must revert to complete cat status again, and she drops to all-fours instantly. She makes a mioaw that might have been "thank you". She is grateful to the owner for putting her in the wool suit, even though she knows that it will soon feel like hell. She loves the sensation of the itchy wool against her bare skin, even though it is maddening torture.

Just then, the doorbell rings.

Kitten abby wants desperately to stay where she is, but the Owner beckons and she has to follow him into the hall and to the door where he opens it for the guests he had invited without slave abby's knowledge. He has set this up in advance, and wishes to show off his pet.

Kitten abby does not want to know who has arrived, and she does not wish to be seen like this. She feels herself blushing as each of the new arrivals comments on what a beautiful little kitty she is. She endures the baby-talk that everyone speaks to cats as they make a fuss of them. Kitten abby knows all four of the guests, but they treat her just as they would a kitten. They do not say hello properly, they do not seek to share news or enquire how she is. of course, as slave abby, she would need the Owner's permission to answer them, but now she knows that she has no permission at all...she can only miaow or purr or stay silent. She chooses this third option, trying to plead with her eyes for her friends to treat her as a human being. But the Owner has, of course, briefed them well in advance, and she has no hope of achieving sympathy from them.

The friends are two couples from the local BDSM scene, and well-known to slave abby and the owner. They are three women and one man; two female submissives and their Dominant partners. In the past, kitten abby has been given permission to discuss her life with the Owner with both the subs, and they are people she can truly count as friends. But now, under instructions from three such Dominant people, they are as strangers to her, responding to her as if she were a newly-acquired pet. Kitten abby knows also that they are free women, and that, as an owned slave, she is inferior to all five people in the room with her. Faced with such a situation she humbly accepts whatever attention they give her, feeling the burning humiliation all the while.

All of them want to stroke her. She realises how clever the Owner has been: the silk that is so wonderful to stroke and touch makes them come back for more, but on the inside every time they stroke her the wool is pressed against her and is moved around over her skin, heightening its torturous powers still further. She cannot help squirming beneath their touch, but she never forgets to purr every time. This is torture and it is delightful. She takes no notice as the Doms discuss the details of what has been done to her to make her into this kitten. She squeals again when both the male and female Dominants give her tail a wiggle. The length of it means that there is some very precise control possible and the stroking she is receiving on the inside as they play with her tail, is echoed by the strokes that the submissives are still giving her silky coat. Kitten abby almost weeps when she hears one of her closest friends, on hearing her squeal, ask the Owner, "Please, Master, may I have a go?" Both subs are permitted to play with kitten abby's tail, and she is horrified when one of them gives it a pull, forcing the buttplug even deeper into her dark passageway. The owner is angry, and reacts as if a child had pulled the tail of a cat. The hapless submissive receives a sound spanking with her knickers around her ankles, and is left with a very rosy behind, and a very sorry expression on her face.

Eventually, kitten abby needs to pee again. She knows without asking that she is still to use the litter tray, and now she has an even bigger audience as she relieves herself. Her humiliation, it seems, will know no bounds.

Kitten abby is left alone in the study then, and the others go to the dungeon in the basement to play. Kitten abby is ordered to lie by the fire. She does not want to: the double layer of wool and then silk is almost too warm as it is, but the Owner is quite clear, and so in addition to the discomfort of the wool, there is the heat and sweat as she stays curled up on the rug.

*****

Kitten abby never knows what goes on in the dungeon; all she knows is that when the four leave, the two subs are finding it very difficult to move, and wince every time they do so. She is in great discomfort herself, and does not like to move either, but the owner makes it clear that he wants her to be there as he says farewell to their friends. There is more baby-talk and petting to be endured for kitten abby, and then they are gone.

It is early evening, and so there is another meal in the same way as before, and kitten abby cleans herself afterwards in the same way as before. It all goes much more smoothly, because she knows what is expected of her now.

The Owner takes kitten abby back to the study. He strokes her all over, knowing all her most tender spots, everywhere that she will feel it most, and paying most attention to them. She loves it, but is beyond squirming now, just enjoying blissful torture at her Master's hands. She lets out a great sigh of contentment. She thinks for a moment that nothing could be better, but is proved wrong.

The Owner has decided that he wants to feel her pussy on his cock. Oh! how sweet his hard erection between her labia, his sensual approach! He takes his time, no violent thrusting but taking pleasure from each exquisite moment of his fucking her as she holds her kitten pose on hands and knees for him. She is filled by her tail and by his cock, and she cannot help coming hard as he tweaks the tail with one hand as he pushes into her again. She comes again before the Owner finishes, spurting his seed deep into her cunt. She did not have permission for either orgasm, and expects to be punished later that evening, or in the morning, but she does not care right now. It was worth it.

*****

It is time for bed, and the Owner finally allows kitten abby upstairs again. He does not send her to her own bed, but has her follow him into his room instead. There, at the foot of his bed, is a large cat basket. It was probably a og basket really, but it is perfect for a kitten abby-sized cat. The room is delightfully warm, and kitten abby is stripped of her cat costume until all that remains is the cat collar with its bell. Kitten abby is to sleep in this, at the foot of the Owner's bed. She knows that he may well wake in the night and desire her again, but it does not matter to her whether he does or not. She has all she wants from the day: she is his owned slave, his owned kitten, his pet.

The Snack Counter

It is evening, and slave abby hurries back to the Owner's house. he has sent her on what he described as a vital mission, but she knows that it is not really, it is simply something for his entertainment. She has had to go out alone into the wider world wearing nothing but the PVC dress that he gave her for the errand. She has no underwear and only the high-heeled shoes that he decreed that she must use. The breeze finds its way between her legs and disturbs her as she makes as much haste as she can in her current attire.

Of course, she has attracted stares, wolf-whistles and even lewd comments from some of those out and about, but nothing worse. It is too early for most of that sort of thing anyway, and most of the stares are from "respectable" citizens who are shocked rather than attracted by her appearance.

Her arms are full, but of course the Owner is watching her as she makes her way up the driveway and he opens the door to allow her into the house, before he unburdens her of her cargo.

He examines it carefully, and nods approvingly: "Well done, my slave," he smiles, and waits while she undresses. He instructed her beforehand that he wished her to adopt a naked stance upon her return, and so she does as she is asked.

The Owner takes some of the items that she has fetched, and heads off to prepare them for the evening he has planned. Meanwhile, he directs slave abby to go into the lounge and put on the items she finds there.

Slave abby does as he tells her. In the lounge she finds a punishment helmet, rubber leggings and two nipple clamps. She wonders why the clamps have hooks on them, but it is not unusual for the Owner to hang weights from her nipples, so she assumes that she will be wearing some tonight. She does not want to, but knows that the Owner will be disappointed if she does not present as ready for him when he returns.

He does not take long, and takes his favourite seat. To his side, he indicates a seat for slave abby. This is a most unusual construction, and sits rather lower than the Owner's armchair. It has wooden armrests, and a wide space beneath the seat. The armrests extend from the back, but have no vertical strut to support them. At the end of each one there is a wide hole. The Owner now fastens more securely the buckles on the punishment helmet, and seals the openings that allowed slave abby to see. The helmet has a gag fitted that fills her mouth and she is left unable to utter a sound.

The Owner instructs slave abby to put her arms on the armrests and he produces from his other side, two rubber sheaths. These have been measured very exactly and their purpose becomes very clear to slave abby. the Owner slips first one and then the other over slave abby's arms and the armrests, binding her arms to their rests in exquisite fashion. There are cuffs that buckle around her wrists to make absolutely sure that slave abby cannot wriggle free.

The rubber leggings serve a similar purpose, it transpires, for slave abby's seat will be completed soon. The Owner orders slave abby to spread her legs as wide as she can. She notices now that on each legging that there is a hoop of rubber attached on the inside of her thighs. Once her thighs are spread as wide as they can go, the owner reveals the final piece of her bondage: the struts that fit vertically through the holes in the armrests. These struts slide through the hoops and lock slave abby's legs in their wide fashion, exposing her pussy in all its glory. The Owner briefly tickles her there and is pleased when she sighs and whimpers with delight. She has been kept waiting all day.

There are three more additions he makes to her predicament before he is ready to begin the evening's entertainment. First, he hangs his weights from her nipples. These are two medium cups of popcorn. Then he straps a device around slave abby's hips. It is sculpted perfectly to fit between her pussylips and brushing on her clit, but it is most notable for the receptacle on its front: into this, the Owner slips a full beaker of his favourite soft drink.

Then, he inserts the rented DVD that he sent slave abby to fetch into his player and settles back to watch the movie.

Of course slave abby is unable to watch the action, she can only hear the sounds. But she can feel the Owner's movements every time he takes a sip of his drink or nibbles on his popcorn. The popcorn cups wobble on their hooks every time his hand dips into one of them, and slave abby's breasts are filled with the quivering tension and pain that excites her so much. The design of the holder for his drink is even more devilish in this respect, for the weight of the drink presses it so tightly on her pussy and clit, so that every time he lifts the cup and then replaces it, her erogenous zones are stimulated. She is becoming aroused and excited by the movements, but the Owner only infrequently dips into his snacks or takes a drink, and with her hands bound to the chair arms, slave abby is helpless to do anything about her rising frustration.

By the end of the movie, slave abby's pussy is sopping and her nipples are so erect that the clamps' effect has been doubled.

The Owner opens her eyeholes as the final credits roll. He removes the popcorn and the drinks holder, but leaves the clamps in place. He ejects the rented DVD.

"My slave, I have a DVD just for you to watch now," he says, and inserts a new disk into the player, presses play, and leaves.

When she sees what the disk is, slave abby howls with despair and frustration into her gag (not that any sound can escape). The Owner has taken all her favourite images and set the DVD to display them one after another. he has set it to show slave abby how much time remains of the show: there is over an hour. And, in tones that always bring a response in his slave, the Owner's voice sounds from the speakers telling of how much he is enjoying the thought of her trapped there, so aroused and yet unable to climax. From the hallway, slave abby hears his laughter as he enjoys the torment to which he is subjecting her...

Short Stories for Slave abby

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