Title:                The Tale of Pretty Ass

       By:                   Paul Alexander

       Email:                pa4word@yahoo.ca

       Story codes:        M/f, mod., spanking, D/s, B/D, real, romantic, light

       Synopsis:        Young female lawyer into self-bondage pays a call on a master craftsman                        woodworker to request a piece of special furniture, and discovers her Master.        

                               THE STORY OF PRETTY ASS

                                       BY PAUL ALEXANDER

   CHAPTER ONE

She made it home, just under the wire, hot, sweaty and tired from running the last three blocks in her 3-inch heels. Thank god her master only permits the five inchers in the evenings! As much as she adores wearing them, five-inch stiletto heel sandals are not the ideal choice for running in. Still, she made it in the back door with 30 seconds to spare this despite the ritual of fishing her key out from under her skirt where it hangs on the end of her slave chain. By fortunate chance, her skirt today was short enough that she could hoist the hem to her waist in order to reach the end of the slave chain where it dangles from her belly bangle. She still had to bend uncomfortably to get the key into the lock, as the portion of chain hanging from the bangle was only six inches long. In order to get her belly close enough to the lock; she had to squat slightly, which meant spreading her legs to the max in order to get her knees out of the way. On other days, when she might wear a longer and therefore, tighter skirt, she would have to strip it off before gaining access to her key. Being a slavegirl, she is never permitted to wear trousers. By this point in her slavery, the door lock ritual is a long established, familiar and well practised routine.

Getting in the door, she hurriedly punches the time clock, before even taking the key out of the lock and dropping her skirt. What a relief, thirty seconds to spare before she would have started earning strokes. Not that she minds strokes, quite the contrary, but the twenty five from this morning and the five welts from yesterday had her ass still feeling like a five alarm fire. Master knows that she gets off work at five and it is only a twenty-minute walk to get to Master’s home so usually she has time for a quick bit of shopping along the way. Today was a stop at the liquour store, but no Glen Morangie on the shelves, rats, have to find a store clerk. Oh, no. All three are involved with an "intoxicated person of the male persuasion" who does not seem to comprehend the simple fact that the particular brand of rum that he likes is no longer available here! Back in her era of freedom, she would have snapped at the man and summoned a clerk, but Master does not permit her to use pejorative language to a man, so she waits patiently for nine minutes while the three clerks escort their rather vocal customer out of the store. As it turns out, there was half a case of the good stuff in the stockroom that should have been on the shelves that morning. In times past, she would have given the entire staff a stern chewing out, but Master has broken her of that habit, as of so many others. So, collecting her Master's favourite tipple, she dashes out of the door and sprints the three blocks to home. It would be nice, in circumstances like this, if Master would permit her to wear a jogging bra. Her 34Ds bounce a bit (a lot) in the half-cup halter he permits her to wear under her dress during the day. This rubs her nipples against the somewhat abrasive lining of her dress. It is not as if they weren't fully erect to begin with; the sleeves in her nipples keep them that way all the time, the rings she wears in the evenings are purely for decoration. (well, mostly although He is fond of leashes and so,of course, is she).

Now that she has dodged the bullet, so to speak, she can pull the key from the door, close and lock it, and drop her skirt. She moves quickly into the dressing room, time is still pressing. She has lfifteen minutes to prepare for Master before she again starts earning strokes. First order of business, securing her wrist and ankle chains. Today's set has a sixteen-inch length running through the ring at each end of the thirty-six inch vertical. Using her standard little heart shaped padlocks, she secures her wrists (right one first) followed by her ankles. She doesn't close the padlocks on her ankles yet as they have still another function to serve. Next, remove her dress and hang it up. Conveniently, all of her clothing is designed to be put on and taken off while she is fully chained. Now her halter, no time to rub her sore nipples. The fabric portion of her thong unclips from the three slim chains easily enough but she still has to unthread her slave chain from the small slit in the crotch of the thong. This means pulling the chain through her belly bangle and letting it drop so that the full weight of chain and key will tug on her clit ring. As usual, she has an immediate, crashing orgasm but no time to enjoy it. She wishes she could ease the chain down but Master would be certain to find out, he always does, and that would be more strokes. Now she can slide the fabric of her thong down the slave chain, ease the ring and key through the slit and finally put away her underwear, halter in drawer, thong in laundry chute; it's much too wet to wear again without washing. Lucky Master has permitted her to make several dozen thongs so she can wash them once a week and still have an ample supply. Last of the undressing is removing the ankle boots with the three inch heels. Her ankle cuffs are loose enough to be slid up her shin to clear the top of the boot when she secures her ankles. Taking off her right boot, she replaces it with a narrow, strappy sandal that ties around her ankle. Same with the left foot and then she unwraps the keeper chain to where it attaches to the outside of her right ankle cuff. She passes the chain under the sole of her shoe in front of the five-inch heel and pulls it up snugly to reach the padlock, fits the chain onto the hasp and clicks the padlock closed. Same with the left foot and then it's time for her jewellery.

The first thing to be done is securing the chains from her thong. The two front ones hang from rings in her waist chain just above the points of her pelvis so it is a simple matter to swing them over (right one first) and clip them onto the belly bangle that hangs from her navel ring. Now for the chain hanging down the crack of her ass. It doesn't quite reach the bottom of her ass because the thong, naturally, has to be pulled tight. So, she reaches around with her left hand to pull the chain out from between her cheeks and clip a long, one-inch bell to the end. The bell hangs mostly free of her ass cheeks so it will ring nicely, is heavy enough to pull the chain snugly into her cleavage, and enough hangs between her cheeks to allow her ass to grip it and not let it swing freely when Master orders her to her back.

Now she kneels, knees well spread, bends forward until her head touches the wall to the right of the ring from which hangs the key to the padlock hanging at the back of her neck. It is somewhat uncomfortable having this padlock bouncing against her steel collar when she runs, not to mention the constant tugging on her aerobes, but such a welcome reminder of her status. Fitting the key into the lock with her left hand, she opens the lock with her right and allows the chain running to her left earlobe to fall forward. Releasing the key, she brings the padlock, with the right side chain still attached, forward, being careful not to tangle it with the bangle in her ear and stretches the chain forward so she can fit the hasp of the padlock through the sleeve in her septum. Bringing the chain forward from her left ear, she fits it onto the hasp, clicks the lock closed, straightens her back and admires in the mirror the sight of the three quarter inch heart shaped padlock snug against her nose. The small bell hanging from the point just clears her upper lip. The quarter inch chains running across the curve of her cheeks stand out like guideposts, directing the eye. No time to waste admiring the view, she still has to choose and install her nipple "accessories".

Master allows her to choose for herself what jewellery to add to her nipples. Each choice has ramifications. Has she earned strokes?  Perhaps the three-inch steel rings with half-inch bells and a stainless steel chain pulling her nipples slightly together. This combination is usually enough to mitigate the severity of the strokes when they are applied the following morning after breakfast. Rings and chain that heavy are uncomfortable to wear until eight a.m. so perhaps, the slender chain running through her nipple sleeves if she has enough time to put on her spiral armlets and connect the chain at each end. Perhaps her Master will permit her the pleasure of bellydancing for him tonight. Hmm, if slavegirl wears a slave disc hanging from her nipple chain, Master will probably use her long and hard tonight; the problem is deciding which one! PRETTY ASS on a two-inch disc is always a favourite, can't go too far wrong wearing her name between her breasts. Master, Please Use me would be a scary choice with her ass already on fire, she really doesn't want another five strokes. Besides, Master used her three times the night before last, bringing her to orgasm eleven times in the four hours. Of course, he kept pretty ass hanging on the edge for what felt like hours between orgasms, the evil beast. All things considered, Master, Please Use me might make Him think

slavegirl is a greedy little wench, which, of course, is perfectly true, but no reason to draw it to His attention. Maybe her one-inch disc with the words "HOT SLUT" and a half-inch bell hanging from the bottom. Perfect, just the right touch of eager to please without actually begging for use. Just have to thread the chain through her left nipple, attach to the spiral armlet, and fit that around slavegirl's left arm. A quick shimmy, love the feeling of the chain sliding through slavegirl's nipples, barely two minutes left, just time to run a hand towel across her face to mop up the sweat from the run, no time to do her body, good thing her waist length hair is in a braid or she would have to spend half an hour brushing it out, with consequences too painful to think about. Now, left hand to the tube of lipstick hanging between her breasts, a quick coat for her lips, close up the tube and kneel in front of the gate into the house. The beep of the timer on the gate goes off and slavegirl crawls through the eighteen-inch high portal to her Master's domain. A fast peek at the timer, through with fifteen whole seconds to spare. So far, no strokes. Of course, there is still the entire evening to go through with so many opportunities to forget the detail of one of her many rituals. Tonight, she hopes not to be forgetful although she frequently does it on purpose; Master has such a deliciously firm hand.

Crawling the ten feet to the centre of her Master's living room, she comes to a halt facing the door, rises up to a squatting position, steps through the chain between her wrists, returns to a kneeling position taking special care to spread her knees the full two feet which is the minimum her Master permits and straightens her back, thrusting out her breasts. In the process, her collar tugs on the chain attached to her navel ring, pulling it tight against the soft skin of her abdomen and the hollow of her breasts. This causes a slight chime from the metal cover of the lipstick tube, where it hangs on its chain from the top of her collar. She places her wrists beside her ass, lowers her head to gaze at the floor between her knees and waits, trembling with eagerness, for the joy of her life to arrive!

End chapter one

               

       More to come as soon as I can find the time to get it written. Hope you enjoyed this. Comments would be most welcome.

                               THE TALE OF PRETTY ASS

                                       BY PAUL ALEXANDER

                                                                       

       CHAPTER TWO

How late will Master work tonight, she wonders? 6:05, 6:30, 8:30...One time, He called "down tools" at midnight! She hasn't heard the alarm bell or seen the flashing red light that would tell her" Master needs assistance". Without that excuse, she is forbidden to break position before nine p.m. Permitted to move just enough to keep her body from cramping, such things as rolling her shoulders, flexing her back, lifting her ass off her heels but NEVER closing her thighs. Master could arrive at any moment; it is only a two-minute walk from where His shop is attached to the other end of the greenhouse. Master could come in that way, but then He would be tramping sawdust into the greenhouse, which He prefers not to do. It's a warm spring day today so He will probably use the front door, which she is facing. If she has guessed right, her reward will be a half hour of being kissed and fondled before dinner, if she is wrong, her "punishment" will be bathing her Master before dinner. Master is so cruel to his devoted slavegirl! How did she get so lucky, she muses? Five years ago, she was a recent graduate of Osgoode Hall, an associate at one of the better Bay St. firms, with a promising career in corporate law, perhaps a partnership within a few years. Then, she was invited, with the other associates, to dinner at the Forrest Hills mansion of the Senior Partner. All she remembers from that night is the magnificent rosewood dining room suite; table, eight chairs, two captain’s chairs, hutch and sideboard. That the set was a one of a kind original was obvious at first glance. Lovingly handmade, with care, patience and attention to detail, it glowed, it gleamed. The senior partner took notice and they spent a convivial hour talking about the set, the months of dedicated work it had taken to build. The cost: all the senior said was" If you need to ask, you can't afford it." But he was kind enough to provide the name of the master craftsman who did the work. That weekend, she went to his shop for the first time.

"Good morning, Sir. Mr. Brant gave me your name when I admired his diningroom set this week., my name is Juliet, Juliet Montague and"

"And I suppose your boyfriend answers to Romeo?"

"What can I say, my parents were Shakespeare freaks, what else were they going to name their only daughter?"

"Yeah, right, and every time you're late for dinner, your mom stands out on the porch and calls out Juliet, Juliet, wherefore art thou, Juliet."

"God, how long have you known my mom?"

"Never met the lady, but I suspect I would have enjoyed her sense of humour. Anyway, come in, come in, would you like a cup of coffee, only have Kenya Double A at the moment, the Jamaican Blue has gone the way of all flesh, so we're roughing it, but the pot is fresh brewed this last ten minutes."

"Thank you very much, I'd love a cup, and Kenya Double A is... roughing it?'

"For some of us... if it's worth having at all, then it's worth having the very best you can find! Cream and sugar?"

"Yes, thanks. One lump."

"Darn, another barbarian who insists on adulterating otherwise drinkable coffee. I suppose your day doesn't really begin until after your first pit stop at Timmies."

"Right, I don't get my eyes open till after my first medium double double."

"I guess for a lawyer, that level of caffeine is a basic working tool."

"How did you know I'm a lawyer, am I wearing a sign on my back or something?"

"You mentioned Bill Brant; I don't think he knows anyone but lawyers!"

"He is a bit of a workaholic, I suppose...anyway, nice shop you have here, would you mind showing me around? My dad used to spend every weekend mucking about in his shop when I was a kid."

"What sort of stuff did he work on?"

"Oh, the usual home handyman stuff, I guess, he built me a doll house for my sixth birthday, I still have it, it has pride of place in my living room."

"So what was he in real life, another lawyer, no wait, ...don't tell me... a doctor?"

“God, you're good, a pediatrician actually. He loved working with kids but the stress was horrible; he used to say the only thing keeping him sane was his shop, my mom and me, ...in that order."

"Sounds like a good man, how long ago did you lose him?"

"Six years ago, I'd just finished high school and was trying to decide between med school and law school, we went up to Wasaga Beach for a day in the sun, we'd just got back at seven. Dad went up to lie down for a nap, when mom went up an hour later to call him for dinner, he was...They said it was a massive heart attack."

"How old was he?"

"Sixty-two, we'd just celebrated his birthday the week before."

"Not such a bad way to go, all things considered.... Too early, of course, but it was quick... pretty much painless, he'd just had a good day in the sun with his family...I could think of a lot worse ways to finish."

"You know, ...I never really thought of it that way... thanks."

"S'ok, ...I just have a weird sort of mind... I often think of how I'd like to go... it's what I do when I'm depressed. I think my personal preference would be...swept overboard off a fifty-foot topsail schooner that I'd built and was sailing single-handed around the world. .... I’d want it to happen on the last leg, about 100 miles out of Halifax.... after a voyage of some three or four years and ...a visit to everywhere worth the seeing."

"Ooh, a romantic."

"Yeah, I think I was probably... Lord Byron... in a previous life."

"With maybe a little bit of ...Kipling, as well?"

"I'm impressed, ...do you kipple?"

"Not really, Dad... got introduced to it... during the war, he used to... read me some of the poems and... stories when I was little. I just thought there was ...a taste of... "If"... in your little speech about coffee. Anyway, you were going to show me round the shop."

End of chapter two

       

                               THE TALE OF PRETTY ASS

                                       BY PAUL ALEXANDER

       CHAPTER THREE

Master is early tonight, it is only 6:15; oh, shit, slavegirl forgot to straighten out her slave chain when she knelt, a quick belly roll to fling the chain out straight between her legs instead of piled up on the floor under her clit. That's more like it, straight as an arrow, just the way Master likes it, except her loins are already dripping.

"Good evening, Master."

"Hello, Pretty Ass, how is my delectable little slavegirl tonight?"

With that, He motions her to her feet and holds out His arms for her to scurry into. She closes her eyes as she raises her lips for His kiss, melting against Him as His mouth ravishes her. One hand gripping her ass, the other running up and down her spine, the kiss lasts twenty minutes and might well pass for a tonsillectomy in some countries. Then, a break from the flood of passion overrunning her body while his hand investigates the general area of her upper thighs.

"Hmm, do I detect a small bit of moisture in this vicinity, at first glance, one might almost think a certain little

slavegirl was slightly horny."

This, while rivers of juice are running down her thighs and pooling on the floor at his feet.

"Master knows full well what His touch does to a hot, horny, helpless submissive pleasure slut like Pretty Ass. May she be permitted the honour of bathing the dust from Master's body."

"You just want to hop in the shower with me, you greedy little wench."

"Of course, Master, what red-blooded slavegirl could want anything else."

"Well...I'll let you wash me but no shower for you, I am not in the habit of indulging greedy little slavegirls!" which is utter nonsense; Master indulges His slavegirl all day, everyday and He knows it perfectly well.

"Right, lick up this pool on the floor and then you can run the bath while I peel off the outer layer of grunge"

"Yes, darling Master."

So she kneels gracefully at His feet, knees spread a little further, bends forward while lifting her ass as high as it will go and delicately laps at the flood of her juice on the floor. Ooh, the feel of His hand on her ass, like a high voltage current direct to her clit, especially when she has already been on fire since breakfast. The men at the club must have caught quite a whiff this afternoon while she was serving drinks but at least she doesn't dance there anymore, she'd have been leaving puddles all over the stage. Master peels off His workshirt, sending a cloud of scraper dust all over His bed area, she will have to run the duster after dinner and vacuum tomorrow morning. She finishes with the flood and hurries to His bathroom to run His bath. While the bath is running, she walks a slow, sensuous strut over to stop several feet in front of Him. She bends from the waist keeping her legs straight until she can place her palms on the floor and only then, steps through her chain. She kneels to ease off His work boots and socks, savouring the delicious smell of man. Kneeling upright, she uses her teeth to undo His belt, unbutton His trousers, and pull down His fly. Using her forearms and breasts to work His trousers down, she slowly pulls them off with her teeth and follows the same procedure with His boxers. Master is fully erect, and the plumbing is in proportion to the rest of Him, i.e. very large. Master is six foot three and two hundred and fifty pounds to her five foot four, one hundred fifteen. It is a constant marvel to her that she can take all of Him even in her cunt, much less her mouth. Fortunately, she has learned the lessons of Linda Lovelace, as this has become her second favourite activity. Following her Master to the bath, she offers a shoulder for balance while he steps in and settles Himself into the hot, steamy tub. Using both forearms to hold the sponge, she kneels beside the tub and begins washing the dirt from His body. She wishes she could touch Him with her hands but that would be five strokes for each offence, accidental or otherwise, she dares not take the risk. After half an hour, including some intricate contortions from her, Master orders her over to the shower, while He levers Himself out of the tub. Again, the shoulder for support while Master makes His way into the shower stall. He lathers up her breasts, belly and ass so that she can wash the grey bathwater off Him with her body, taking every opportunity to nuzzle His erection in the process. Where does he get this kind of control, that wonderful implement is hard enough to do someone an injury. She wishes she were permitted to actually enter the shower with her Master but...

"Take that lascivious look off your face, slavegirl, you're not getting your mouth on this yet"

"Maaasterr is a cruueell, evil beast"

SWAT. Ooh...and the fire rages hotter!

"Towel, Pretty Ass."

"Yes, Master, you Beeaast."

SWAT on the other cheek, with predictable results, her juices are spurting, it is a strain to stand up. She reaches for a huge bathtowel, which she stretches between her fingers to the full sixteen-inch length of her wrist chain and tosses the towel over her head so it hangs like a shroud. She squats and steps through the chain so that she can grasp the end of the towel on each side of her ass and then rubs her towel covered body against as much of Him as she can reach. While Master finishes drying Himself, she drains and washes out His tub, no towel for her, she will have to air dry, her bath comes in the morning, in a two foot diameter galvanised washtub out in the middle of the floor.

"Right, then slavegirl, standard evening dress for the moment."

"Yes, Master."

Turning to her wardrobe cabinet a few paces away, she opens the door and speculates, red silk or black nylon. She senses this is a night for opaque so the red it is. First, she has to step through her chain. Clipping the ends of a belly chain to the ring lock at the back of her waist chain, she reaches with her left hand to the slave chain and threads it back up through her belly bangle. Then clips the narrow strip of silk to her belly chain so that it just covers the inside of her thighs and the other, smaller piece from earlobe to lobe across the middle of her nose. The bottom edge of her veil is strung on each side with a dancer's chain of tiny slave bells, which hang just below her jawline.

Less fabric than the average micro bikini and she is now fully dressed for an evening at home with her Master.

End of chapter three

       

                               THE TALE OF PRETTY ASS

                                       BY PAUL ALEXANDER

       CHAPTER FOUR

       

While preparing her Master's dinner, she lets her mind drift back to that fateful day.

"So, you've seen the shop, had a look at some of my work, perhaps you could fill me in on what sort of thing you're looking for."

"Well sure, but can I have some more of this coffee first, please? I'd like to try it without additives, this time"

"I think we have the technology to handle that...there you go, now just sit down in the nook and tell me about what you need."

"You mean... besides a big, strong man to run my life?" She said with a teasing grin.

"Madam... that constitutes something perilously close to... flirting... watch yourself... you could easily get into trouble here!" this with a thunderous, and obviously fake, glower.

"OK, O.K.... I'll be good...basically... what I'm looking for is a... sort of combination ...coffee table/storage chest. My living room is fairly big but... it doesn't have much ...closet space, in fact, the whole apartment is kind of... short on that."

"I think it would make more sense to be... having this conversation.... there... I can't even speculate.... about possible designs.... until I see the space I have to work with."

"No problem, my place is near Yonge and Eglinton, it's just over an hours drive, if you like, I could drive you in and bring you back here when you're done, that is, if you don't mind taking off the rest of today?"

"Well, I still have an hour's worth of jointing to do on all this Cocobolo, do you mind waiting?"

"Not at all, I love the smell in here, I'll just sit here out of the way and sip my coffee 'till you're ready."

An hour later, driving to T.O., the conversation was the usual intro stuff, plays they'd seen, favourite dinners, the merits of real chocolate versus Nestle's etc.

"Nice little place you have here, bit of parkland to see from the balcony, no overhanging buildings...very nice, I like it."

"Thank you, it's comfortable for a single girl.... I still miss the house but... Mom and I decided it was too big for... the two of us and then she had to go out to Vancouver to look after her sister. Without the two of them, I... would just have been... rattling around in that place and ...besides, this place is only a half hour walk to work, I hate driving in the city, there's.... never a place to park."

"Yeah, right, I try to avoid it as much as I can...... OK, so tell me more about this ....thingy... you want me to build."

"Well, you can see I don't really have room for... a dining table, but an ...oversized coffee table would... work for me, a few cushions on the..floor, people.. kneel ...or sit cross legged or whatever."

"And you would want it for this open area underneath the spider plants?"

"Um;hmm"

"How big were you thinking of?"

"I guess the key dimension would be for the space underneath, maybe, five foot by three foot by twenty inches. The top could overhang about six inches all around, I guess that would be all right."

"Let me think for a minute......  OK... look,... I don't want to embarrass you or anything, ...but whatever this thing is for, it ain't storage... now... it's nothing to me what you want to do with it ...but I can't do a proper piece of work unless I know the details... I mean,.. if you're going to be standing on it, ...that affects how I build the top, and I need to know what will be going inside before I design the box, I mean, does the top slide off, or fold up, or is there a door in the side, or the end or what?"

"Just out of curiosity... how did you know I'd be... standing ...on it?"

"Two spider plants hanging from hooks four inches below the ceiling... right in the middle of your living room... about four feet apart... I don't think so... nice camouflage though... and then you want the table to be twenty inches high, those hooks are four inches below the ceiling... you're about five four so if you stretch your arms up ...you could just about reach ...if you stood on tiptoe... I'll bet that's the ...object of the exercise but I don't quite see the ...storage space."

"Is there any... Sherlock Holmes... in your blood? OK, well, I told you there was no boyfriend, nor much of a chance of meeting one with all the hours I work and I don't think I'd trust one of them to do what I need anyway, not without getting carried away but I need...."

"Bondage, so you do it for yourself. Still kinda dangerous, though, what happens if you get stuck?"

"Well, I generally have.. two..alternate methods of... getting loose, one fairly easy, one... hard, and I'm always careful and if I want to.. try something..dangerous, ...I always arrange for a... girlfriend to check up on me."

"So what about this storage space... how were you thinking of using that?"

"I'd like to make it into a little sleep... cell, maybe a bit of padding in the bottom, not too much, it's not supposed to be comfortable... and a... narrow little gate at one end that's on a... time lock."

"What if the timelock jams, or something?"

"Well, the alternate would be.. that the top lifts like the.. door on a cellar.. so it would be easy to push up but ...I would set something.... messy... I don't know, maybe, a bucket of paint or ...used motor oil or something on top so I'd really... not want to use the escape hatch in ...anything less than a genuine emergency."

OK, I think we can handle this, construction should be fairly easy... what would you say to red Cherry for the bulk of it with Ebony trim, corner posts, edging,.. like that?"

"Mostly red, with lots of black,.. sounds just like a.. dungeon,... seems kind of appropriate, I like it."

Yeah, that's sort of what I was thinking; now then, I've enough Cherry in stock but the Ebony supply is pretty low, I'll have to order some in, it'll take me about a month to assemble, another week for cleanup and finishing, still have to find the timelock, hinges for the top are no problem... brass or... strap iron?"

"Ooh, strap iron, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I reckon."

"Well, if you're okay with building this, how much do you want now, I mean I have a couple of thousand put aside, will that be enough?"

"Oh, plenty, a grand to be going on with, the rest when I deliver the piece."

"Hey, wait a second,..what about your ankles while you hang from the ceiling?"

"Oh, no problem",

she goes to the closet, returns with

" I always wear a spreader bar, I haven't... had my ankles together.. in years, here now, just let me get my chequebook.....there you go, I dated it for Monday, is that all right?"

"Oh, sure, I couldn't order the wood till then anyway. Now, I guess it's time I was"

"Can I talk you into.... going out to... dinner... please,... you're the first man I've ever been.. able to.. talk with about...all this."

"I don't think I'm really dressed for dinner but I've some... munchies in the fridge at home... if that works for you?"

"If those munchies include... breakfast,.. then I'm in."

"Pack an overnight bag, then and... lets be off."

End of chapter four

       

                               THE TALE OF PRETTY ASS

                                       BY PAUL ALEXANDER

       CHAPTER FIVE

Kneeling beside her Master's (the only) chair while He enjoys the lamb chops etc. she has prepared for His dinner, she really hopes she has prepared enough. He has worked hard today and is obviously hungry, but since her meal comes from His hand, there might not be enough to feed her, in which case, she goes hungry. Not a big problem, it's happened before and will certainly happen again, but that muffin He fed her for lunch has sort of worn off and she's starving. Still, not a good idea begging to be fed, it means five strokes, which, today, is a consummation to be avoided; maybe she can wheedle him into allowing a late night snack.

"There you go Pretty Ass, I think I've had about as much rabbit food as I can take for one day"

Setting the plate on the floor beside His chair.

"Thank you, Master. May pretty ass be permitted to feed?"

, Must keep the formalities straight, just because Master puts a full plate on the floor, is no reason to assume he intends to feed her.

"Anymore of that Chardonnay, that was rather tasty."

"Yes, of course, Master, permit pretty ass to pour you a glass."

"Very well, slavegirl, you may feed."

"Thank you, Master."

Hands firmly placed beside her ass, she takes delicate little bites from the Caesar salad, it wouldn't do to have her mouth full if she needs to respond to Master.

Pause while he stuffs his after dinner pipe and lights the fragrant, aromatic tobacco, a sip of coffee, then...

"What's for dessert, Pretty Ass?'

Gulp.

"Would Master care for Dutch apple pie, slavegirl could nuke it and there is still some cheddar to go with it, or there is still a creme caramel, it would only take ten minutes to heat and brown in the small oven,... slavegirl made Nanaimo bars last weekend, Master always seems to like them?"

"Decisions, decisions, decisions...right, nuke the pie but it had better be the OLD cheddar."

Luckily, she still has a slice of the old, so her ass is not in danger. The last time she confused sandwich cheese with dessert cheese, she couldn’t sit for a week. This is not quite the disaster it seems as she is absolutely forbidden to sit, anyway! The difficulty is that she is also forbidden to rub her ass!

Ping from the microwave; slide the slice of pie onto a china dessert plate, the cheese, place in front of Master.

"Would Master care for more wine?"

"No, this is enough to be going on with, I'll take another coffee in the chair when I'm done."

"Yes, Master."

She steps through her chain yet again, kneels and delicately attacks the remains of the salad.

Master finishes his pie, collects his pipe and strolls off to the leather armchair to read the paper while His slavegirl attends to the dishes and straightening out the kitchen. A snap of His fingers, she finishes pouring a mug of coffee and scurries out to His chair, holding the mug between the tips of her fingers, handle turned away from her. She kneels, lifts the cup to her lips, plants a long, deep kiss on the side of the mug, lowers her head and extends her arms to offer up the mug and herself. While sipping on His coffee, His other hand goes exploring between her thighs, bringing a helpless wriggle and moan along with the usual gush of fluid.

He brings His left hand to her lips so she can lick and suck her juices. After drying His hand on her breasts, He snaps His fingers.

."The dishes, pretty ass."

A rustle of newspaper.

"Yes, Master"

Ten minutes later, another fingersnap. She hurries to Him, stops three paces in front of Him, bends forward to step through the chain and kneels submissively, hands behind her back.

"How may a slavegirl serve her Master?"

"An afterdinner brandy would go down nicely, just about now."

"Master said He wasn't happy with the Desjardins, perhaps some Armagnac would please?"

"Yes, good thought, save that other stuff for cooking"

"Right away, Master."

Rising gracefully, she goes to the sideboard, steps through her chain, takes down a lead crystal brandy snifter, holds it between her breasts to warm it and pours two fingers worth of the fiery spirit from a crystal decanter. Carrying the glass again between her fingertips, she walks slowly to kneel before Him, again raises the glass to her lips for a long, lingering kiss and offers it to Him, her head down in submission. She refreshes her lipstick and bends forward to kiss His feet.

"Yes, Pretty Ass?"

"Master, when pretty ass is done in the kitchen, would Master permit His slavegirl to dance for His pleasure?"

"Very well, slavegirl, but a full hour this time, none of this half-hour warm up stuff."

"Yes, Master."

"And fetch my tobacco."

"Yes, Master."

End of chapter five

       

       THE TALE OF PRETTY ASS

       by PAUL ALEXANDER

,

       CHAPTER SIX

Dance for Him, a full hour, with her slave chain bouncing between her legs, not to mention the stimulation from her nipples, the floor will be ankle deep in her juice. He won't permit her to do much floorwork until she has stripped fully except for the face veil, only Master can remove that. Once he "forgot" for three days and she had to wear the veil to work; happily it was this same opaque one but it was still sooo embarrassing, the guys in the bar loved it but some of the girls were a little cutting. It will be standing movement for at least half an hour. Oh wonderful, an orgasm already and she's not even into her "costume" yet. Staggering slightly from the heat in her loins, she goes to the wardrobe and takes down her dancing chain, a twelve foot long chain that locks to the ring at the right side of her collar, through the padlock at her right wrist, the padlock at her right ankle, over to her left ankle, her left wrist and locks to the ring on the left side of her collar. Not very secure in terms of bondage but it allows an amazing number of ways for a good dancer to show her helpless submission. Master put her through two years of advanced bellydancing while she worked as a stripper four nights a week, this on top of the beginner and intermediate courses she took in college so she can safely claim to be a "good" dancer.

"Would Master be kind enough to release the shackles from slavegirl?"

OK for her to lock the chains on her body but it is for Him to remove them, the same as her veil and jewellery.

"Thank you Master, slavegirl will just be a moment getting her costume on, would Master want more to drink before she begins her dance."

"Don't make any more but if there is a cup of coffee left, I'll take it."

"Yes, of course, Master, right away Master."

Into her four veils (yes Salome used seven, this is the abridged version, besides, she doesn't get to collect his head afterwards although, if she is lucky, he will collect hers), she wears a breast band stretched between her armlets, a large rectangle loosely tied at that back of her neck and falling to her belly, a knee length one tied high on her right hip with a calf length overskirt tied low on her left hip. Except for her red silk, all of her veils are completely sheer, the knots simple slipknots that He can undo with a finger whenever it pleases Him to begin her strip. The CD into the player, dim the lights, hit the spotlight on her dancing rug, a jangle of slave bells and she's on. Swaying sinuously before Him, hip thrusts, belly rolls, spins, twirls shimmies, desperately trying to slow the tempo of the dance to keep her passion from overflowing too soon but she's caught up in the pace of the music, nothing she can do, one particularly exacting belly roll flings her slave chain out and ignites the volcano. She staggers from the force of the orgasm but manages to stay on her feet, sways within reach of His finger. Yes, the large veil tied at the back of her neck, she wriggles her body as it slides to the floor to pool at His feet. Now, if she can only persuade Him to unhook her breast band so she can raise her arms over her head; not yet though, better not rush it, at least another ten minutes before He will even think about it. Thank god the tempo is slowing, if she is careful at shaking her hips, the slave chain might give her a break, a few more slow twirls, some chainwork, sway close and shimmy in His face, arms held apart to the limit of the nipple chain. The veil is shorter than the chain so this pulls the veil tightly against her stiff nipples, oh please, Master this shimmy is killing slavegirl, He unhooks from her left armlet, oh Thank You, Master, damn, there go the floodgates again but at least now slavegirl can raise her arms and do some more interesting chain work. Wrap the veil on her right armlet around her head, doubling it over her eyes, a good blindfold, she can only see a dim haze, enough to know where Master is, tie the veil off at her right armlet, fixing her arm to the side of her head for the rest of her dance. Her right forearm still has the freedom to pull her chains teasingly against her body, turn and shake her tail at Him, then a graceful, swaying turn to present her hips and belly, will he?, not this time, she dances away, the tempo speeds up again, that traitorous slave chain does its evil work, oh, this one is crushing, she sinks to her knees, shaking helplessly in her heat but slowly forces herself back to her feet, she is not even half through the dance, force herself to spin several more times, edging closer to Master each time, another bellyroll, ending in a presentation of her left hip, oh yes, Thank you Master, now she can do some floor work. Sinking to her knees before Him, her thighs well spread, she bends forward slightly so her ass can get a good grip on the bell, then straightens her body, letting her ass sink against her heels, another shimmy and a soft bellyroll, the slave chain remains coiled on the floor. Now she lifts her body to kneel up, perfectly vertical, holds that pose for a count of five and begins slowly bending back from the waist until the back of her head touches the floor, careful to keep a firm grip on the bell between her ass cheeks, this would be a horrible time for it to drop loose, she extends her left arm over her head, pulling the chains tight to her body, teasing her nipples, ringing her various bells. She lets her belly lift and fall, as if having trouble maintaining the rigour of keeping her thighs vertical, and slowly begins to draw her body back upright, her head bent back until the last, will He allow this? She hears a soft No, she has to bend back, more teasing of her erect nipples, play of hard chain against soft skin, roll of belly and shake of hips, oh please Master, this bell is starting to slip, maybe now, she begins to rise again, slowly, carefully, she doesn't want to lose the bell now, she straightens her head, made it, bend forward a bit to renew her grip, swing her right foot forward to present her right hip, oh Thank you, Master, only one more veil to go, this one is opaque, better do some vigourous belly and hip work, He will expect to see the slave chain poking against the veil at least twice, shimmy of breasts against dancing chain ignites another orgasm, this belly roll is a freebie, how many more  orgasms does she have in her, maybe now is the time to beg,  knees extra wide apart, she bends from the waist, keeping her ass well up in the air, the bell clenched triumphantly, lips kissing, tongue licking at Master's feet, this is the reason for the slave bells on the lower hem of her face veil, the weight draws the fabric out of the way, wriggle her ass at Master, shimmy her nipples against the floor, oooh, pleeeease, Masterrrr, a snap of His fingers, kneel upright to present her belly for the last veil, the handclap that directs her head between His thighs, use her lips to undo the button on the loose cotton pants, pull down the zipper, take His organ deep into her throat, just hold Him there while both catch breath., the CD ends.

End of chapter six

       

                               THE TALE OF PRETTY ASS

                                       BY PAUL ALEXANDER

       CHAPTER SEVEN

Ten minutes now, holding Him deep in her throat, not permitted to do anything yet, He is casually smoking His pipe, sipping at the liqueur, at peace with the world, how can He be so cruel, finally, a snap of His fingers, her tongue begins to swirl around the base of his shaft while her mouth sucks gently, carefully, Master will be annoyed if she brings Him off too soon. At last, the finger snap that tells her to begin her work in earnest. And work it is, too, Master has the most incredible control, Ghandi would have been jealous. Twenty minutes of ardent licking, suction and throat action before she is at last allowed to swallow what feels like a gallon of the good stuff. No worries now about being hungry, any other treat would be wasted on her. Her Master's voice percolates through what passes for her consciousness:

"Don't bother with the vacuum till the morning, but do what you can about the dust level in here."

She allows His now softening erection to slip out of her mouth, giving it a last lick while it is still within reach. She kneels back and looks up at Him with naked lust in her eyes.

"Thaaank you, Maaassterrr."

He rearranges the equipment comfortably in His pants, does up His fly, releases her right arm, strolls across to His music corner, takes down the Guarnerius which occupies pride of place in His collection. A few arpeggios sound all right to her untrained ear but her Master requires perfection in everything. A tweak to the G, slightly sharpen the D, the A passes His test but that E; fifteen minutes of the subtlest adjustments, suddenly, the solo part from the Beethoven Violin Concerto, 2nd movement, sounds brilliant but He isn't satisfied.

"I believe I mentioned something to the effect of doing something about the dust levels in this place?"

"Yes, Master, pretty ass was trying to recover a tiny bit of strength, she will get right on it, she is sorry to be so displeasing, please, Master, keep on playing, pretty ass will be quiet, pleeassse"

"I suppose I need to practise for tomorrow night, OK an hour of reels, with a couple of waltzes to close it off."

He reaches down His 1815 German Strad copy, gives it a rough tuning and breaks into a set of fifteen reels, with repeats, at five minutes per, this is forty-five minutes non-stop, no music, and he claims to be a hack fiddler, right and Stradivarius was an instrument maker of some small ability.

"Have you finished with the dust, Pretty Ass?"

"Yes, Master, until the morning, this is the best your slavegirl can do."

"Right, then, bed!"

"Yes, Master."

She sashays to the kitchen, reaches her toothbrush from under the sink... then a dry wipe of her thighs with an old dishtowel, and she presents her body to be bound for the evening.

The blindfold first, she thrills to the click of the padlock, then a lock through her wrist cuffs behind her back, on her belly now, her legs folded up to her ass, a lock through her ankle cuffs and the wrist lock, a simple hogtie, her dancing chain is just meaningless decoration now, flipped over onto her back, lying on her bound wrists and ankles, her knees automatically spreading, she can't see anything but she knows that her wetness is going to be maintained through the night. Sure enough, she feels a square box with wire being hung from her belly bangle, she can feel its weight pressing against her belly just above her clit, a click as something is connected and she feels a dildo, not as large as Him, thank god, but this will be a vibrator, the man is a sadist, she will be a wreck by morning, it slides alllll the way in, oh no, it's the one that projects over her clit, has He no sense of mercy at all?, the gag, now, this time a ring gag, this is just to tease her, she knows Master will never fit through this one, click, click, click, click, the cage is being lowered about her, it is four foot by three foot, even if she weren't in a hogtie, she couldn't straighten out anyway, no moving about for her tonight, Master is strapping her knees to the sides of her cage, she will spend the night lying on her bound wrists and ankles, the vibrator keeping her aroused, without providing any relief, Master is soooooo cruel, no wonder she loves Him so.

End of chapter seven

       

                               THE TALE OF PRETTY ASS

                                       BY PAUL ALEXANDER

       CHAPTER EIGHT

Bright spring sunlight through the north-facing window over His bed; Master must have removed her blindfold sometime during the night. She is still caged, though. How on earth did she manage any sleep at all with that vibrator going? It was only on low, but still, she's lying in a puddle of her juices. Master comes to the cage to release her left knee, walks around to release the right, clicks the electronic release for the bolts that hold the cage to the floor, then operates the motor control to raise the cage up to the ceiling, twelve feet overhead. Good thing Master "remembered" to release the bolts this time, else the floor plate, and pretty ass, would also be twelve feet up. Once, He left her up there for eight hours, without so much as a pan of water, still in her overnight bonds, unable even to roll over and lap up her juice from the floor of the cage. Usually, if He intends to leave her caged for any length of time, he will set up a water dildo for her, no food, though, He says He doesn't want her getting crumbs in the cage. This morning, Master seems to be in a mellow sort of mood, he releases the hogtie, and makes her lap up her oils from the floor plate while He showers.

"Not done yet, Pretty Ass? Too late, now, its time to start breakfast; I suppose I was too lenient last night. Still, five of the best after brekkie ought to provide an incentive to diligence."

"Yes, Master; what may your humble, obedient slavegirl prepare for her Master?"

"Huevos Rancheros, and don't skimp on the salsa this time."

"Yes, Master, coffee will be ready in eight minutes, will Master have it in His chair?"

"Yes, and an orange, quartered."

"Yes, Master, coming right up, does Master wish to shackle pretty ass and remove her dancing chain?"

"Well, of course, can't have my slavegirl wandering about in only her dancing chain, fetch the 8 and 24, then coffee."

"Yes, Master."

Crawling over to her wardrobe cabinet, she kneels at the side and takes the appropriate chain down from the hook using only her mouth, crawls over to His leather armchair, squats to step through her chain, kneels and presents the required set of chains to Him. Will He fasten the eight inches between her wrists, or her ankles, or perhaps something truly nasty, the eight inches between right wrist and ankle, twenty four inches on the other side. One of his many methods of making housework truly uncomfortable, but not this time, thank you Master. The short hobble on her ankles, glory be to Master, he must be feeling extremely mellow, maybe she will get her five strokes from the palm of His hand! A fingersnap!

"Yes, Master, right away, Master."

Which coffee to grind this morning? She reaches a handful of Sumatra from the sealed canister in the fridge, pauses, collects a sparse dozen Jamaican Blue for spice, and puts them in the hand mill, five minutes of vigourous grinding, into the gold filter basket, four cups of filtered cold water into the percolator, three minutes of stiff perking, then the coffee serving ritual, followed by the orange serving ritual. This involves placing the quarters of Seville orange onto a china side plate, carrying the plate resting on the thumb and forefinger of each hand, kneeling, closing her eyes, flinging her head back to clear the veil out of her way, lifting the plate to her lips and kissing the underside, and god help her if she has forgotten to refresh her lipstick. Failure to leave a clear kiss imprint on every plate, cup and bowl she presents to him is an automatic five with a crop, regardless of any other punishments that may have been awarded. This morning, she is safe. Two mornings previously, she forgot, and paid the price; the welts are still vivid. A fingersnap.

"Yes, Master, huevos rancheros, will Master have toast, as well?"

"Don't know, yet, do me three eggs, and we'll see how hungry I am."

"Yes, Master"

Twenty minutes later, she has served her Master's eggs at the table, together with a second cup of coffee, and prepared her morning bowl of oatmeal.

"Very well, Pretty Ass, you may feed."

"Thank you, Master."

She carries her plastic dog dish between fingertips to the far end of the kitchen, kneels to place it on the floor near the wall, kisses the floor in front of the dish, squats to step through her chain, drapes the veil and nose bell on the far side of her bowl, and delicately laps up her breakfast, being careful all the while to keep her thighs well spread, her ass high, all her treasures on display for her Master's viewing pleasure. A fingersnap summons her to the table after only a few nibbles of oatmeal; she snaps to her feet, a slow, sensuous turn, her best strut, hips shaking, breasts jiggling, ass bouncing, head bowed, she attends her Master.

"I think you went a little light on the jalapenos with this batch."

"Yes, Master, slavegirl should have chosen more carefully at the market."

"Well, aim for something with a little more...authority...next week, this was your first batch, so I'll let you off the hook this time but don't push your luck."

"Yes, Master... sorry, Master... slavegirl will try to do better next time, Master... will Master have more coffee now... perhaps some toast?... slavegirl used some of the oranges for marmalade... will Master favour His slavegirl with an opinion on this batch, please?"

"The Seville oranges, a thick cut to the rind?"

"Oh yes, Master, your slavegirl well knows her Master's taste."

"Well, we'll see. Two slices, another cup."

"Yes, Master, right away, Master."

Cutting two slices off this week's loaf of homemade sourdough, she toasts them, butters them, spreads them thickly with the rich, heavy marmalade, and presents them on the usual china plate.

"Not bad, and the sourdough starter is coming along very nicely. Very good, slavegirl, you may feed"

"Thank you, Master."

She struts slowly over to her bowl, bends to touch her palms to the floor, steps through her chain, straightens and kneels to resume her breakfast, her face glowing with pride from her Master's compliments; He is in a phenomenally good mood today. Twenty minutes later, as she is finishing the last of her small bowl of oatmeal (no milk, no sugar, a pinch of salt, and some dried fruit), a fingersnap.

" Coffee, dishes, report!"

He says, as he gets up from the table.

"Yes, Master."

She goes through the after breakfast coffee ritual at His armchair, then a slow strut to the kitchen for cleanup, then presents herself for morning punishment report. She kneels back, her ass resting on her heels, gives a shimmy to ring the bell hanging from the slavedisc between her breasts, bends her head well forward to clear the veil from her lips so her left hand can use the tube of lipstick that she wears at all times. She then kneels upright, bends at the waist to touch her lips to His feet, a long, lingering, languorous, lascivious kiss to His right foot, the same again to His left, she kneels upright, shimmies, then slowly sinks back onto her heels, lowers her eyes and waits...

"Report!"

"Master, your slavegirl begs to report that she has earned five strokes this morning for lack of diligence in failing to properly clean the floor of her cage. No strokes were awarded yesterday, Master."

"None at all?"

"Master, none, Master...Master is being much too kind to his obedient, submissive pleasure slut!"

"Well, that'll never do, fetch the strap!"

"Yes, Master, thank you, Master."

Crawling to the far side of her wardrobe cabinet, her lips lift down the stiff leather strap, 18 inches long by 2 inches; she crawls back to present it to Master. He holds it out to her so that she can take the leather in her mouth to moisten it and give it a good chew, then kisses the implement and bows her lips to the floor between His feet.

Swish, thwack!

"One, Master, thank you Master!"

Swish; thwack across her other cheek.

."Two, Master, thank you, Master"

A pause to change the angle of attack, swish, thwack, horizontally across the top of both cheeks:

" Threeee, Maasstterr, thank you, Master!"

Lower, but parallel, across the middle of her cheeks:

" FFOURR, MASTER, THANK YOU, MASTER."

Lower still, just missing her thigh rings, on the undercurve of her ass:

"FFIIVVEE. MMAASSTTERR, TTHAANK YOU, MMAASTERR1"

She kneels up to take the strap between her lips, crawls over to return it to the hook, rises, struts over to kneel again before Him, being careful to keep her hands away from her ass, she doesn't want to earn any strokes for tomorrow. He removes her veil.

"Use the scrub brush and soapy water on the floor of your cage, then your bath."

End chapter eight

                               THE TALE OF PRETTY ASS

                                       BY PAUL ALEXANDER

     CHAPTER NINE

   Her rig for scrubbing the floor includes a hospital type bedpan mounted by magnets to a wooden board with casters, and a penis gag with a screw fitting on the end, such that she can screw on a brush, mop, sponge, broom or rag, as the situation requires. She puts in the gag, securing the straps with a padlock at the back of her neck, reaches under the sink for her cleaning gear, screws the brush to the end of the gag, takes the bedpan to the middle of the floor, then sets up the tub for her bath. The tub is kept in the bottom drawer of her wardrobe cabinet; she carries it over to the middle of the room and sets it next to the bedpan. Going over to the sink, she fills the one gallon steel bucket with tepid water and one squeeze of mild dish detergent, carries the bucket carefully to empty it into her galvanised steel washtub, and returns to the sink to repeat the process two more times, being particularly careful not to spill any of the soapy water as she would have to lick it up after her bath. She pours some soapy water into the bedpan, kneels to push the bedpan over to her cage, dips the scrubbrush into the water and begins the task of scrubbing the remainder of the cage floor clean of her copious juices. Her ass is on fire, her breasts swaying just above the floor, her nipples making contact frequently, sending a shiver of passion through her and her oil has now dried, requiring vigorous upper body movement to scrub the cage floor clean. Ten minutes of strenuous labour and this task is done but the bedpan is not. She squats over it to deal with her bladder and bowels, then kneels to push it over to the toilet. It was only salad last night, how come it smells so rank this morning, yuck! She dumps the contents into the toilet, the bedpan coming clean thanks to the soapy water so she won't have to scrub it out, bends to push the bedpan back to the centre of the room so she can take her bath. The formerly tepid water is now quite cool but she is used to bathing in cool water. Now, to work out a method of getting into the tub, restricted as she is by the eight inches of chain between her ankles. Ah ha, the sawhorse in the greenhouse! She scurries out to the greenhouse, steps through her chain, picks up the lightweight horse and manoeuvres it into the room and over to her tub. Resting her upper thighs against the top, gripping it firmly with her hands, she lifts her legs up behind her and extends them over the tub. A bit of teetering but she is able to lower her feet to the bottom of her tub. Now, to stand up. Her weight resting on her toes, she bench-presses her body away from the sawhorse until she reaches vertical. TaDa. Squatting in the tub, she steps through her chain, picks up her sponge and begins scrubbing the dried cum off her thighs, groin and ass. That done, she runs the loofah over her back and does her breasts and belly with the rough cotton cloth. Arms and legs next and she is done. Taking the towel she has laid out for herself, she stands in the tub to begin drying. Her towels are small, old and worn so it takes some effort before she is only damp but, at least, this time there are no telltale drops of water on the floor, yet! It would be so much easier if Master would permit her to toss the towel on the floor so she could dry her feet, but no, that would be making life easy for His slavegirl. She reaches for the sawhorse, leans forward to rest her upper thighs on the crosspiece and lifts her legs up behind her so she can dry her shins and feet. So far, so good, although she almost lost her balance several times. Now, to empty the water from the tub. Reach for the bucket, scoop it full, wipe off the side with the towel, carry over to the sink and dump out. Repeat as often as necessary until she can carry the entire tub over to the sink. Dry it out with the towel and return it to the storage drawer. Towel into the slave laundry basket, cleaning supplies back under the sink, go to Master to have her gag removed.

"Nice work, Prettyass, except for one minor problem."

"Yes, Master, slavegirl forgot to mop up the water from the floor of her cage, she is such a klutz!"

"You didn't really think I wouldn't notice?"

"Your slavegirl has a rich fantasy life."

"Well, it just cost you five of the best."

"Yes, Master. They want slavegirl to help with the lunchtime rush at the club today and tomorrow, she will have to leave Master's house by eleven, is that OK?"

"Yes, Tony already cleared it with me, 11:00 is fine, you'll still be getting off at 5:00."

"Yes, Master; Would Master wish His slavegirl to pick-up anything special on the way home?"

"Well, no sailors, for one thing....See if the liquour store has any of that cognac I like."

"Yes, Master.... and for the rest of the morning?"

"Laundry and dusting, run the vacuum, come out to the shop when you're ready to go, I'll unlock you."

"Does Master wish prettyass to prepare anything special for His lunch?"

"No, I expect I'll make a sandwich when I get hungry. Leave the coffee-pot ready to go."

"Yes, Master; there is still one cup left in the pot, will Master have it now?"

"Put it in a travel mug, I'll take it out to the shop."

"Yes, Master."

She delicately bends to pick the gag off the floor with her lips, rises to her feet, crosses to the kitchen, places the gag under the sink with the rest of her cleaning gear, goes to the coffee pot, refreshes her lipstick, takes down a travel mug, kisses the lid, pours the coffee, turns off the pot and returns to perform the coffee ritual again.

   Master has gone off to work, no kiss this morning; perhaps He has been spoiling slavegirl. Oh, well, hopefully tonight. Time to "dress" for the morning chores. She steps through her chain, crosses to her wardrobe cabinet, steps through again and takes down her work tunic. Master permits her to spend her mornings barefoot. Her tunic is rough cotton fabric, the skirt panels clip to the ring at each side of her waist chain, front panel first, then remove the chain running through her nipples to her armlets, might as well leave the armlets till tonight, then the narrow ribbons stretching from the front sides, above the points of her pelvis to just above her nipples. From that point, a thin steel chain runs over each shoulder, under her arm to clip together between her breasts. This keeps the fabric snugly pressed against her nipples while leaving her back completely bare. After she clips the rear panel of the skirt to the waist rings, her back is still pretty much bare as the skirt dips to uncover the upper third of her ass, and at its lowest point, only reaches six inches down her thighs. Her front side isn't much better off as the ribbons are no wider than the aeroles of her nipples and the skirt leaves her five-inch belly bangle fully exposed. Still, now that she is wearing clothing, she is permitted to run her slave chain up through the bangle and thus, take some of the weight off her clit. If only Master had taken longer in the shower this morning, she might have finished licking up all of her oil and, thereby, saved herself the five strokes from this morning, the torture of using the scrubbrush while her slavechain hangs free and the five strokes she has already earned for tomorrow. At least the welts from the crop are starting to fade; still, she will try to be a very good slavegirl today, just to be on the safe side. His laundry, first; separate out His denim workclothes, they're for a prewash soak, then have a look at His performance shirts. Something sticky on this blue silk, have to give that a bit of a prewash scrub in her laundry sink, oh no, is that a coffee stain, eew, the people at these gigs are just so careless, imagine, spilling coffee on her Master, good thing she wasn't there or she'd have done someone an injury. Oh, well, a good scrub and then a wash in cold water, the delicate cycle, it'll be right. While she's running His first load, she can also run the vacuum, change Master's sheets, blankets and pillowcases, silk sheets pickup so much dirt, good thing there are still three sets in the cupboard, she can do a load of sheets tomorrow or Saturday. That load out to the line for drying, Master prefers His good clothes to airdry, now the workclothes into the machine, the heavyduty cycle this time, a capful of fabric softener into the mix, off to dust and straighten up. Newspaper to the recycling bin, give the floor of her cage a quick buff, might help, can't hurt Hmm, streaks on the kitchen windows, better give them a wash and hope Master hasn't noticed (who is slavegirl kidding, Master notices everything), ping from the washer, this load goes into the dryer for half an hour, then she'll hang them outside, as well. Meanwhile, she can begin her laundry; thongs stiff from her dried juices need to be soaked and scrubbed in the sink, slave tunics and work dresses can go into the machine, the cold cycle but no fabric softener for her, at least her work dresses can go out on the line, her tunics and thongs will hang on the short line in the greenhouse, Master says the personal details of His life are no one else's business. Glance at the clock; just time to hang up her laundry and change for work. Her workdress today consists of a closefitting grey wool; the top has sleeves to just above the elbow. Zippers run up the inside of the sleeves and down the sides of her body to end at the hem of the skirt, several inches below her knees. The skirt is as tight fitting as the top and acts as a very efficient hobble, no running for her tonight. The lower back, from waist to just under the strap of her halter has been cut away, as Master believes a slavegirl should always have some flesh on display. If she is careful, she won't be showing her waist chain or the rear chain of her thong, but, certainly, someone will make her bend over, she should be used to the exposure by now, but it still turns her red with embarrassment whenever someone sees the chain running between her ass cheeks. Oh, well, first remove the bell at the bottom of her ass, hook today’s thong, red satin, to the rear chain, reach around front to pull the slavechain out of the bangle and let it drop, with predictable effects. She drops to her knees to recover, then threads her slavechain through the slit in her thong, draws the thong tight up her belly, unhooks the right side chain from her bangle and fastens the right corner of her thong, same again on her left then pulls up the slavechain and feeds it through her bangle. Damn, her thong is already wet and will only get more so as the day goes on. At least the tips will be good today, they always are with this outfit, her erect nipples poking against the thin fabric, her breasts jiggling slightly with each step, her ass well shown off, no wonder the other girls hate her, she usually earns more as a waitress than most of them do from tabledancing. Settle her breasts into the half cups of the halter, draw the cords around her back, under the opposite arm, under and up between her breasts, then across the tops, underneath her arms, back up over her shoulders and tie off at the outside of each breast. Hopefully, this will keep her treasures from bouncing too much. Now, the dress. Push her head through the turtleneck collar, slide the left side of the dress underneath the chain running from her wrists to ankles, do up the zip on her right side, then pull the front and back tightly together to do up the zip on her left. Oh, lovely, the outline of bangle, chain and key is quite apparent at her belly, the skirt outlines her ass and thighs to perfection, if there was an extra gram of fat anywhere on her body, it would show, her nipples are standing out like soldiers at attention, time to tuck her feet into the ankle boots and then present herself to have her nose padlock opened and her shackles removed. Sliding quickly through the greenhouse, she opens the first door to her Master's shop and waits in the glass enclosed airlock for Master to notice His slavegirl. He is in the middle of a rip cut on the tablesaw so just gives a nod. She stands at attention, feet spread to the limit of her chain, shoulders back, and fingers straight beside her ass, head up, eyes down for two minutes until He opens the other door. He is covered in dust from the plank He has been working on, so, rather than taking her in His arms, as is His usual practise, He contents Himself with a light brush of His lips on her cheek and then reaches for His keyring. Squatting to release first her left ankle, then her right, He stands to do her left wrist, followed by her nose.

"Turn about, Pretty Ass."

He releases the lock on her right wrist, gives her a lovely slap on the ass and says, "Have a good day, slavegirl, see you tonight"

"Yes, Master, thank you Master."

She returns to the house so she can crawl back through the gate, leave her shackles ready for the evening and refasten her nose padlock at the nape of her neck. Just time to fish out her lipstick from between her breasts, a fast coat for her lips, put the tube back under her dress and she's out the door, off to work.

End chapter nine

 

                               THE TALE OF PRETTY ASS

                                       BY PAUL ALEXANDER

    CHAPTER TEN

On the stroll to work, she lets her mind drift in happy reminiscense. That first Saturday at His house, no sooner through the door when He said

,"Strip, I've no wish to destroy your clothing."

He had already agreed to keep her in bondage for the weekend, so she eagerly began removing her garments. A girl in bondage doesn't need clothing; she's already fully dressed.

"No, no girl, this isn't a race, take your time when you strip before a man, enjoy the experience, it's the only way to be sure he will enjoy the performance"

"Sorry, Master, I've never undressed in front of a man before."

"You're not telling me you're a virgin."

"No, but not very experienced; I usually undress and change into my nightie in the bathroom."

"Well, we'll have none of that nonsense here, girl; you appear to be the possessor of a thoroughly delectable body and I intend to extract all the visual stimulation from you that I can. By the way, undressing is something you do in a doctor's office!"

"That's better, here you can put your clothes in this shopping bag, I'll stick it out in the car later, no, no, keep your shoes on."

"Right, turn around, hands crossed behind your back. No, don't cover your ass, behind your back means at your waist. You're right handed so always, the right wrist goes inside! Now, hold that pose while I find something to tie you with."

"Right, the terrycloth belt to my bathrobe ought to be enough to keep you out of trouble."

"If you say so, but I'm pretty inventive."

"Well, I'm going out to the shop to find something to restrain your creative impulses. Make yourself at home, there's a good CD in the stereo, feel free to turn it on, I'll be back shortly."

While He went out to the shop, she had a long, slow, appreciative look around. Expensive stereo, buttons easy to operate with her nose, umm a Tafelmusik CD, Tellemann, one of her favourites, nifty collection of books, somewhat eclectic, though.... several very nice landscape paintings, three oils, the rest watercolour, a gorgeous abstract in stained glass for the front window, just one BIG room plus bathroom, the kitchen is a nook built off the back wall, a few pieces of very fine furniture scattered about, every thing spotless, not even a dish in the sink or a crumb on the counter, even she isn't this neat. Ooh, a bearskin rug in front of the fireplace, the perfect place to curl up and listen to the music (and revel in her bonds). Some little while later, He returns with something hidden behind His back.

"On your knees, face the fireplace!"

Blackness over her eyes, he's tied a strip of black velvet over them, it feels sooo soft against her cheeks. Now something cold wrapped around each ankle, chain and the snick of two padlocks. Oh, lovely, she tests the limits, about a foot of chain between her ankles, might be awkward for lovemaking later if she can't spread her legs any further than that, then he unties her wrists, takes the right wrist straight behind her, she can feel two pieces clasped around her wrist, the sound of a ratchet wrench, the pieces get snug, nothing pinches, though and the material is too warm to be steel. The same process with her left wrist, again a foot of space between them.

"Stand up."

The blindfold is removed; He puts His hands on her shoulders, turns her around, takes her in His arms and gives her the kiss of her life. Some indeterminate time later, He steps back so she can catch her breath.

"Walk around for me!"

"No, girl, this is not a catholic girls school! You have a body, a very nice body, let it move!"

...."Girl, if that's the best you can do, you're going to find bedtime to be seriously disappointing! You're walking about, nude and bound, in front of a man. Show me that inventiveness you were bragging about!"

...."That's better, still a little tight though, we'll work on it tomorrow. Stop there. Now, a test of your limberness. I want you to stand with your feet spread to the full limit of your chain. Good. Keep your legs straight as you can. Your wrists are already below your ass, bend forward from the waist and slide your wrist bar down the backs of your legs until your hands reach the floor. Don't worry about splinters, I've scraped the wood smooth. Try it now. Very good, just a little bending of the knees at the end, there, we'll work on that, soon have you up to snuff. Now, lift your right foot and step back over the bar. Now, your left foot, now stand up straight. No bending the back, going down or coming up! OK, now I want you to reverse the process, remember legs and body straight just bend at the waist. Good, good, very nice! Now, do the entire evolution, back to front to back ten times while I sit in my lounger and watch. That's right, legs apart, you're putting on a performance, showing off that gorgeous body, no don't turn around, I like the look of your ass, not to mention the other goodies. Straighten out those legs, don't get sloppy now, I know it's stretching your tendons, do you good once you get used to it. Right, that's ten, straighten up now, back straight, shoulders back show off that chest! Don't let that belly sag, nice and tight, now. Walk about the room for a bit, loosen up those muscles. Oh, much better, come over and give us a kiss, no keep them behind your back, no need to have your wrists in front unless you're doing something with your hands. You don't need hands for kissing, just lips and body.

    Twenty minutes later, curled up on His lap, held in His arms, her arms safely out of the way, she has enjoyed a thorough exploration of her body and another of those soul shattering kisses.

"Now, it seems to me I promised you something to munch on sometime back along."

"You want me to deal with food when I'm right on the edge of an orgasm. What sort of evil human being are you."

"A hungry one; you wouldn't want me to fade in the clinch from starvation, would you?"

"OK, let me see what I can find in your larder...cooking with this bar between my wrists ought to be a pretty neat trick."

"I expect you'll manage, if nothing else, there's always bacon and eggs."

"I think I need some help cutting up this onion, for the omelette."

"Look in the vegetable drawer, there's half of a spanish onion, already peeled."

"What about cheese?"

"Use the extra old cheddar in the storage container on the counter, it crumbles better."

"In this tupperware container?"

"Right"

"Damn, this is hard to open one handed.... there, I got it. You're right, it does crumble easily, I guess that's from keeping it at room temperature?"

"Yeah, and it tastes better that way, too. I only keep sandwich cheese in the fridge. By the way, mind your language, if you're going to swear I expect to see blood flowing."

"Oh, sorry Sir, I guess everybody swears these days."

"Not quite everybody, I believe a good curse is perfectly healthy in time of trouble but it does not belong in every sentence you speak, much less every second word, like some people I've heard, Over use cheapens a lot of perfectly good swear words and then, when you have a legitimate reason to swear, what have you got."

"Yes Sir, I'll mind my manners. Is this the bacon you want me to use?"

"Yeah, peameal, it's the only kind I keep in the house."

"I've never tried this before, how do I cook it?"
"Heat up the pan, toss the bacon in, beat up the eggs, toss the onions into the pan, turn over the bacon, pour the eggs into the middle and you're away."

"Crumbled cheese on top, two minutes to dinner, where are your plates, oh this cupboard."

This bacon cooks really fast, best get it onto the plates first, use the spatula to separate portions of egg, a little awkward manoeuvring the egg onto the plate but doable, carry it over to the table.

"Dinner is served, Sir. Which chair should I use?"

"I sit at the head of the table, you sit to my right, for the moment, hands in your lap, I will feed you. Keep in mind that when serving at table, you present from the left and take away from the right. You are expected to take every possible opportunity to touch me with your body; you may not touch me with your hands, even by accident, nor may you initiate a kiss on the lips, though you may freely kiss any other portion of my anatomy below the neck that your lips can reach!"

"Yes, Sir; Sir, you didn't suggest anything in particular to drink?"

"Grab the half bottle of Zinfandel from the fridge, one glass from the rack, I’ll open and pour."

"Yes, Sir."

"Your wine, Sir. Thank you for cutting up my bacon, Sir, does this mean I'm to feed myself?"

"Not using your hands; you can eat off the plate if you wish or I can feed you."

"OOH, please feed me, Sir."

"This once, because you didn't know, but for future reference, begging to be fed gets you five strokes. Likewise, begging for use, and begging verbally for permission to speak."

"How would I beg non verbally?"

"Your body language, position of your knees, how high you raise your ass when you bend to kiss my feet, the length and lasciviousness of the kiss. Also, keep in mind, you may beg to your hearts content, verbally or otherwise, but there is no guarantee that I will accede to your request. Begging involves asking a question; sometimes the answer is no!"

"So, I might beg for...use...be rejected...and then receive five strokes?"

"You wouldn't receive the strokes until the following morning after breakfast, which gives you however many hours to do what you can to mitigate the severity of your punishment. Generally, I will award a number of strokes. The implement used could be the palm of my hand, a ping-pong paddle, smooth side or rough side, a leather strap, my belt, a multi-stranded whip, the same with knots in the tails, a riding crop... several other things, none of which will leave permanent marks, but they all involve varying degrees of discomfort. As I say, that will be the general practise; certain offenses will carry with them specific punishments. These eggs are very tasty, by the way."

"Thank you, Sir; could you tell me more about the specific punishments?"

"As we said in the car, we'll be some little while working our way into this relationship, a lot of things will need to be determined over the next few months; like, for example, your body's response to pain. If it proves to be that five strokes with a riding crop brings you an orgasm, then that's not much of a punishment!"

"No, I suppose not, although... one orgasm in exchange for four days of pain.... I don't know."

"We'll work it out over the next few months, find out what the limits are now...and what we want them to be. That we, by the way, is pretty much the imperial we, although I will want your input."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I'm serious about this, now...if I ask a question, I want an honest, detailed answer, I'm not a mind reader!"

"Really, you could have fooled me!"

A long look with a lifted eyebrow.

"Well, I mean, we've been here for almost four hours now, if I'd had to write a script for this event, I don't think I could have come up with anything half so exciting. Especially these cuffs, I can't believe you made them in just an hour!"

"I happened to have a four inch by twenty inch offcut of curly maple, one inch thick, already planed and jointed, just sitting around gathering dust. Not a big deal to cut the ovals for your wrists on the bandsaw, rip the board, scrape and plane the cut edges, relieve all the edges, drill out for the captive nuts and the bolts and give it an oil finish."

"No big deal for you, I guess...still an impressive piece of work, such pretty wood, so smooth, they fit my wrists without any pinching, you didn't even measure and they fit perfectly!"

"I choose to work with wood for my living, no point to doing it badly! Here, have a sip of wine, you're getting flushed."

"Thank you, Sir.... Trying to get me drunk so you can have your wicked way with me?"

"Don't think I'm likely to need that advantage, I don't think you could get away all that easily."

"Boy, ain't that the truth, with this hobble, an elderly, arthritic turtle could catch me with no trouble!"

"I think we can take it as read that you're already caught, now, the question is what am I to do with you. Dishes first while I plot the details of your...’seduction’. Use these salad tongs with your right hand to hold the plates, wash and dry with your left, in fact, in performing any task, the hierarchy is: nose first, then mouth, then left hand; you use your right hand only when absolutely essential!"

"Yes, Sir. Will you have the rest of this wine, Sir?"

"I'll take it with me out to my armchair, carry on."

Forty-five minutes to wash and dry two plates, a knife and fork, one frying pan, a chopping knife and a bowl, well, if it was easy being a slave, anybody could do it. She goes out to kneel in front of His chair.

"Knees less than a foot apart, I can only assume you are embarrassed, ashamed or mad at me?"

"Oh, Sir, none of the above, Sir...is this alright, Sir?"

"Eighteen inches will do as a minimum for now, in a few months, we'll make it two feet. The maximum, on the other hand, is whatever you can reach and depends largely on whatever message you're trying to send. If you're begging with you're knees only eighteen inches apart, then, obviously, the matter isn't very important to you. Sort of like begging for permission to take the garbage out."

"So, if I'm really, really, really horny, I'd better be able to do the splits while kneeling?"

"Well, that's one approach."

"And an alternative would be?"

"See what you can do to make me really horny. Of course, will power is a big thing with me; I don't often use it but it can be rewarding.... anticipation, don't you know!"

"Would Sir permit me to practise walking for a while?"

"Not just walking...start at the kitchen, hands behind you, walk to the front door, kneel and kiss the floor, stand, step through your restraint, turn, lift the bar to the back of your neck, walk back to the kitchen, kneel, kiss the floor, stand, step through your restraint and walk over to the door again. Keep going 'till I tell you to stop."

"OOH...Sir, I'll be dripping all over your floor!"

"So sad, I guess you'll have to spend some time cleaning up after yourself, put that educated tongue to work."

"Oh yes, Sir, I promise I'll get every drop."

"That you will, girl, carry on!"

He kept her strutting her stuff for almost two hours but that included a number of pauses for her tongue to clean the floor. Holding her wrists behind her neck with her elbows drawn back proved to be helpful in loosening up the muscles of her chest and ass. Performing this ritual under His watchful eye brought her to orgasm three times; licking up the results did it twice more. At last, when she was nearing exhaustion..

"Come here, girl."

He bent her over the back of His chair, lifted the front to slide her wrist bar behind the front legs, squatted to unlock her left ankle and spread her legs to the outside of the chair legs.

"Don't move."

Leaving her to get comfortable, he wandered off to collect a few items.

"I think we'll start by mopping up all this dampness here, this sponge ought to do the trick."

As he lightly runs a dish sponge over the inside of her thighs, carefully avoiding her mound but spending some time on her ass.

"Mmm, Sir, if that is supposed to be cleaning up the wetness, I think it's having the opposite effect."

"Do you complain about our methods here, fraulein!"

"Oh no, Sir"

"Vas is los, I don't recall inviting you to close your legs, now look what you've done. I'll have to start all over again, now, where did I put that dishtowel, ah here it is, and nicely wet, too. Perhaps a few swats on the inside of your thighs will persuade you!"

Swat, Swat, Swat, and Swat.

"Oh, please, Sir...I'll talk, I'll talk, just no more with the dreaded wet towel!"

"Talk, Ve don't Vant you to talk! Ve have other uses for dat so pretty mouth!"

"Well, please, put it to use, then"

"What is all this noise in here, open wide, this facecloth should cut the volume some!"

"Mrph, Mrph"

"Stop that quite excessive wriggling of your ass, it's only the rough side of the sponge on your clit, nothing at all to get so excited about, now look what you've done, a gusher all over my pant leg! Oh, well, nobody said this would be easy, I guess I'll just have to get these pants out of the way."

Walking over to toss His trousers into the laundry bin, He ensures she gets a good view of the sizeable bulge in His boxers. Stripping off His shirt while He's there, He displays a rather impressively muscled body, He's a lot more than six feet tall and has to weigh close to two hundred fifty, yet he looks lean and hard. He returns with the square of black velvet in His hands. Ooh, blindfolded, gagged, tied helplessly over the back of a chair, spread out ready for use, a slave's fantasy.

"These breasts haven't had any attention at all, I'll bet they're feeling quite lonely."

"Oh, ticklish, are we, sorry breasts, I'll get to you in a while, I have a whole new project."

After some minutes during which her writhing actually lifted the chair off of the floor several times, SWAT across her ass with the wet towel.

"Stop all this wiggling around, you're like to damage my chair at this rate, OK, we need something a little more secure, spread-eagle on the bed would work but it's so prosaic. Can't hang you by your wrists from the ceiling beam, not in those cuffs, guess I’ll have to make some leather ones, maybe tomorrow, what else, Ah Ha..."

He lifts the front of the chair to release her arms, uses the bar to pull her upright and leads her over till she can feel the bearskin rug under her feet. Laying her back on the rug, he lifts her feet in the air and ties her ankles wide apart. She can feel the nubbly surface of the firescreen against her calves but the rest of her body is pulled out away from the fireplace, her ass just off the rug.

"That should be right. Good thing I used those eyebolts for the firescreen when I built this fireplace, truly serendipitous, still need something to stretch out her arms, though, this girl does some pretty vigourous bouncing."

A few minutes, during which she is able to cool to some extent, though her position still keeps her aroused; then, the sound of a drill.

"Good thing I kept this half inch manila, it ought to take the strain quite nicely."

She feels her arms being pulled over her head, hears a piece of rope being tied to the bar between her wrists.

"Just have to pass the other end through the eyebolt, draw it back, yes that stretches her out nicely, a couple of half hitches, perfect, piece of rope is just barely long enough to do the job. Now, where did I hide that electric toothbrush?".........

He's going to brush His teeth, at a time like this?

"Seems to me I promised some attention to these lovely’s, somewhere back along."

The feathery touch and hum of the electric brush on her breasts, clockwise on the right, counterclockwise on the left, stimulating, really quite pleasant...her body goes rigid as the brush is applied to her right nipple. He stops, just before the fountain, slowly, she relaxes...her left nipple, her body rigid again, she's so close just a few more....

"I think this stew needs to simmer for a while."

The creaks of the leather armchair, fragrant smell of His pipe, while her heartrate returns to something approaching normal.

"This feels like a Bailey's moment, now, what shall I pour it into?"

She feels a cool wetness in her navel, followed by the rasp of His tongue...

"If you don't stop bouncing around like that, you're going to spill my drink."

More of the coolness, this time between her breasts, she can feel the slight roughness of his five o'clock shadow as he teases her sensitised flesh with His tongue.

"Oops, I seem to have let an orgasm get away from me, guess I wasn't paying attention, maybe I should have used cognac instead."

She feels a towel being roughly wiped across her ass.

"From the looks of it, this handtowel isn't going to be anything like enough to keep your juices off the rug, I guess we have to sacrifice a bath towel to the cause, don't go anywhere, I'll be right back."

She feels a hand under her back, lifting her off the floor, granted she's not huge, but it’s like a hydraulic lift, He's not even breathing hard, her entire weight in one hand. She is set down again, this time on a large folded up bath towel; she can feel its texture on her ass and back.

"Time to test that pain tolerance of yours, now don't go anywhere, I'll only be a few minutes."

Like she could run if she wanted to, I wonder what He's up to, she thought.

"Right girl, listen carefully, I'm going to give you a light whipping, I'm not taking your gag out, my ears are sensitive, so, instead of a safe word, I want you to lift your ass off the floor, get your belly as high as you can reach. When I see that, I'll ask if you want me to stop. Rotate your hips clockwise for yes, counter for no."

Swish, splat across her belly, what feels like dozens of strips of fabric, sort of like being snapped with a wet towel after gym class, only lots of separate contacts; a slow burn across her belly. She waits...swish. splat across the inside of her right thigh...swish splat across the inside of her left thigh, she didn't even hear Him move, for a big guy, He's incredibly light on His feet, two more strokes across her right side, one at the hips, one higher...a matching pair across her left side, just the ends to her tits,  one stroke to each...she's so close,just one more, pleeeease.......swish,splat to her groin and the tsunami strikes. She arches her back, as the orgasm seems to go on forever.

"Do you want me to stop?"

A hip rotation to the left followed by a roll to the right.

"Make up your mind girl, yes or no."

She lets her body sag against the towel, waits two beats, arches her back and wags her hips side to side.

"Now that's inventive, let me see if I can work out the code. You want me to keep going but not on your front, right?"

Several emphatic clockwise rolls.

"OK, well that's pretty clear, hang on a minute..."

She feels the hand lifting her again while something is placed underneath, then she is lowered to find her ass resting on the nubbly surface of His hassock. His touch at her left ankle, freeing it, then her right, he lifts her and rolls her over, her ankles, right first, tied again, now the soles of her feet are pressed against the firescreen. He pauses to take out the slack in the rope holding her arms.... Swish, slap this one is softer, wonder why, you'd think he'd be willing to strike her harder on the ass, less chance of doing damage....

about one hundred soft strokes later, spread between her ankles and neck, she's had two orgasms already and is almost at her third, god this man is good, it's like chinese water torture, please, don't stop now, two quick strokes to the inside of her thighs followed by one to her centre, she's writhing and twisting, this one is earthshattering.....Blackout.

The smell of ammonia just under her nose.

"Oooh, what happened?"

"You passed out, my lovely, so I untied you, took off the gag and blindfold, and carried you over to the couch."

"Not completely untied, I'm still wearing the bar on my wrists."

"You said you wanted to be continuously bound until late Sunday night."

"Oh, I wasn't complaining, actually I sort of thought you'd have refastened my ankles?"

"Thought about it, figured we'd be going to bed soon anyway, you'll be well spread all night, I promise you that."

"Oh goody, but you might have to carry me to the bed, I don't think I've strength enough to walk."

"We can certainly handle the ferry part, however, ferries have a price."

"So, how do I buy my ticket?"

This with a salacious grin and a lick of her lips.

"I think that's just about the right price, on your knees, girl."

She slithers down off His lap and takes her place between His legs.

"Haven't you forgotten something, girl.....Hands behind your back!"

With a groan of effort at the strain on her well reddened body, she slowly straightens up and goes through the ritual of stepping through her restraint, then kneels again, her knees about thirty inches apart.

"That's better, for future reference, that mistake will cost you five with a strap, not this weekend, you're just learning the ropes."

"And chains and other good things, that torture with the electric toothbrush was savage."

"Bitching again, are we?"

"Oh no, Sir, absolutely not, I like your style of savagery!"

"Stop malingering, you've your passage to pay."

"Not so fast girl, take your time about this, if you take less than twenty minutes to bring me off, there'll be no joy in the morning!"

"Not too shabby, girl...twenty eight and a half minutes, needs a little more work on technique, I felt your teeth a couple of times.... if that happens on future weekends, there'll be trouble!"

"Sorry Sir, that was my first time, I'll get better with practise."

"And practise you'll certainly get, if you want to continue with me."

"I'll look forward to it."

He got up, bent over, picked her up and carried her over to His bed; her fiery body snuggled against His broad chest, then stood her up to the left of the bed.

"Step through and then assume the position."

"On my back or belly?"

"If I had a preference, I'd have said so."

Stretching out sensuously on the silk sheets, feeling their delightful coolness against her burning back, she slowly raised her arms above her head to press the bar against the headboard, fitting her hands between the wooden spindles and spread her legs for the waiting ropes. But first, He choose to blindfold her, then tie the bar to the header of the bed, then her ankles, stretching her out snugly.... Then His weight on the bed beside her, He rolls over to kiss her goodnight, a long lingering kiss and fingering of her nipples that starts to get her heated again...

"Good night, my lovely, see you in the morning."

"Good night, Sir...thank you for today!"

"My pleasure, girl...go to sleep now."

End chapter ten

                                       

Chapter Eleven                                

Mon morn email to Juliet at office

Juliet;

Instructions as follows:

1/clothing, outerwear

Henceforth, you are forbidden to wear trousers. You may continue to wear conservative business suits and dresses.

2/underclothes

Beginning one week from today, all underwear will be put on and removed while your wrists and ankles are shackled. You are to wear nylon stockings with a garterbelt, not the hold up style of stockings. If your breasts require the support, you may wear  longline strapless bras; however, they are to be altered by the addition of jewelry sewn to the outside to designs of your own. The garments are to be modeled for my approval before you wear them.

3/jewellery/ chains & locks

On your lunchhour today, you will find a hardware store and purchase stainless steel chain. Ensure the chain is smooth, as you will be wearing it against your skin much of the time. Purchase the chain in lengths of 24 inches, 36 inches and 48 inches. In addition, you will purchase a set of six padlocks, keyed alike, waterproof and decorative. Ensure the hasp of the padlocks will fit through the links of chain. Also, as of one P.M. today, you will wear at all times not less than three bangles on each wrist. Your watch, if any, will be a clip on or pin type that can be worn as a brooch.

Before you return to your office, put on the chains and padlocks as follows:

Lock the short length around your waist; padlock at the back.

Lock the middle length around your hips, shackle of the lock through two links of the chain at your navel, the middle of the chain draped across your ass.

Hold the centre of the long chain at your throat, padlock snugly around your neck, take the ends underneath your arms and padlock  between your breasts. Snap the remaining two padlocks around the chain across your ass. Keep two keys for yourself; send the remainder,  together with the packaging from the locks and a key to your apartment, to me, via express courier. I shall expect them to be delivered by six P.M. today.

I shall expect you to be home by 6:00 P.M. each day this week. I will contact you via Yahoo messenger sometime before ten-thirty. You have thirty seconds to answer. The penalty for delay will be one stroke per second.  Immediately upon entering your apartment, you will strip. You will then unlock the two shorter chains. Wrap one end of the thirty-six inch chain around your right ankle, secure with a padlock, pass the other end through a bangle, wrap and secure your left ankle. Use the other chain for your wrists, making sure to fasten the right one first and also to pass the other end through the same bangle. Then, you will put on a pair of five-inch heels. Only after all this has been completed are you permitted to move from the front hall of your apartment.

You may have soup and salad for dinner. You are to kneel in the middle of your living room to eat.  Place that 18-inch block of wood between your knees whenever you kneel. Face the mirror while you eat, mind your posture. Remember that once you’re shackled, you may not have your hands in front of your body unless you’re doing something with them (AND TWIDDLING YOUR THUMBS DOES NOT COUNT).

After dinner, you will go through your wardrobe, discarding all trousers and shorts, saving the oldest, most badly worn pair of jeans in your possession. These are to be turned into extremely brief cutoffs. Leg and waist openings are to be reinforced with stainless steel chain in a roll of leather. ½ inch of chain is to be left exposed at each end for the padlock. A pad of steerhide is to be sewn and riveted into the inside of the crotch, rough side in. You will need to use washers so the rivets do not tear through the fabric. A small bell is to be sewn to the outside of the crotch, directly below your clit. You are to be wearing this garment when you come out to my place on Friday night. As instructed last night, you are to be kneeling at the back door of my place no later than six PM.  Anything less than superlative workmanship on your chastity shorts will

earn vigourous strokes. Once that garment has been completed, you may begin work on the g-strings you will be wearing in lieu of panties. These must be modeled for my approval before wearing. In constructing these g-strings, you may use 1/8-inch drapery cord or similar size chain. Fabric and colour of your choice but total weight of the garment is not to exceed six ounces. You will make 15 of these before you will be permitted to begin work on slave garments. Until a slave garment has been approved, you will remain nude while inside your apartment. All sewing is to be by hand .It will be acceptable to use jewelry findings for catches with chain, or knots with cord, as you wish.

Regarding the two keys, one is to be secured to the top of the baseboard to the right of your front door on a six-inch chain. The other is to hang on the headboard of your bed above your left hand.

You will prepare for bed at ten forty-five. You are to sleep wearing a blindfold, a whiffle ball gag and your three-foot spreader bar on your ankles, all of these locked on. Your last act is to unlock your left wrist, pull the chain through the bangle, wrap the chain around three of the bars of your headboard and lock the chain to your left wrist. Be sure you’ve set your alarm for six. You are to be locked up by eleven. Further instructions will be forthcoming tonight.

Sir Paul

Yahoo messenger conversation 9:45 that evening

Good evening, SIR.

Hello, girl; 37 seconds to reply means seven strokes.

Yes, Sir; Thank you, Sir.

Did you follow all the instructions from this morning? I received the package at 5:45: did the courier understand the urgency of getting there before six?

Yes, Sir; it is a service we use all the time for important legal docs, they’ve never let us down before.

I had to take an extra long lunch today in order to find the locks to go with the chain. I spent all morning on the phone to every hardware store in the city. I told them I needed six small padlocks, keyed alike, waterproof and decorative but sturdy and that I wanted at least three keys. I finally had to go out to Lee Valley on Steeles Ave. These are a lot bigger than I was hoping for, 1 ½ H x 1 ¾ W x 5/8 T, coated in blue plastic, but guaranteed to be waterproof which is a good thing as I’m certain to be wearing them in the shower.

Never mind, they’ll do for the moment; I’ll find something a little more feminine for you. How many bangles are you wearing on your wrists right now?

Six on each one, Sir; the jeweler had a special on 14 CT. 5 inch bangles which my hands are just barely small enough to get into. I figured I would need the extra ones for something or other, maybe modifying that bra or as part of a slave garment.

You will indeed, although I was thinking of costume jewelry.

I thought of costume stuff, but a garment eventually has to be washed; I didn’t think the costume stuff would hold up.

A valid point. Did you pickup any other jewelry while you were out?

No, Sir; He said he would have some very nice chain next week and I wasn’t sure how much I would need or what lengths to buy, anyway. I’ll go in next Monday and pick up whatever I need for immediate use on the g-strings.

And the materials for the chastity shorts?

I didn’t have time on my lunch hour today, I’ll try to find a leather place tomorrow; I have selected the pair of jeans to be cut off but I’m still trying to work out a design.

Are you wearing five-inch heels now?

Yes, Sir; I stopped on the way home and bought a pair of mules with five inch heels. I knew I didn’t have any close enough to the front door. It will take some getting used to if I am to walk in these things as they flop around on my feet quite a lot.

Wear them this weekend, I’ll see what can be done.

Did you have any problem with the lengths of chain

No big problem although sitting on the chain and two padlocks all afternoon was quite uncomfortable.

So sad! I BELIEVE YOU REQUESTED ME TO PROVIDE STRICT INSTRUCTIONS?

Yes, Sir and that email was perfect…thank you, Sir. I hope there will be much more of the same sort of thing.

I suppose that could be arranged. Nothing more this week as you have quite enough to be working on as it is.

Just the chastity shorts, Sir and where did you get the deliciously cruel idea of having the rough side of the steerhide facing in? I’ll be in torment the entire time I’m wearing them.

You said you want some measure of physical discomfort as part of your obedience training. Are you already wimping out on me?

Oh no, Sir…. I’ll do it and I’m sure I’ll love the torture. I can’t wait to find out what you come up with next.

In time, be patient. You said just the shorts, what about bras, or are you planning on going braless next Monday?

I have a couple of bras with detachable straps, which should be easy enough to remove, while I’m shackled.

OK, that’ll work. Any other problems today?

Only that I spent the entire day in wet panties.

Oh?

About a half hour after reading your e mail, I noticed my pussy was soaking wet, I had to stuff paper towels from the bathroom into my panties every hour or I’d have had a huge wet spot on the back of my skirt. From now on, I’ll keep a spare pair in my purse.

I imagine the aroma was fairly intense in your office.

For sure; several people noticed I had the windows open.

And have you gone through your wardrobe?

Not quite finished yet, there is still the stuff in my laundry basket. I’ve pulled out all my pants, most of my panties, all of my pantyhose, most of my bras and all of my slips. I’ve put them all into a garbage bag to take to the Goodwill.

Very good. Don’t forget to be in bed as described. I have your apartment key. I will be dropping by at irregular intervals to check up on you. Don’t be surprised if you wake up to find yourself in the middle of vigourous sex.

OOH! Eager anticipation! You sure know how to provide incentive to obey your rules.

Some reward to go with the discomfort.

YES. SIR…THANK YOU, SIR.

Good night, sweet girl, see you on Friday night

Yes, Sir…I’ll be kneeling at your back door at six PM, as ordered, goodnight SIR.

By this time, it was near ten thirty, just time to go through her laundry basket, then evening ablutions.

At 10:55, she reached her left hand to turn off the lamp on the night table, wrapped the chain around her left wrist, secured it with the padlock and settled into her first evening of bondage alone but still under His control.

End Chapter Eleven

                                               

                                               

CHAPTER TWELVE

Waking Tuesday morning, her time sense said she still had about ten minutes until her radio would come on. Just time to revel in her bonds and review the most delightful weekend of her life and the delicious prospect of a lifetime more of the same. Saturday night was wonderful; such creative bondage and the training…ooh, exquisite, her mound gets instantly wet from the memory alone. She must remember to practice the movements of stepping through her chain so it will be right when she does it for Him on the weekend. She guesses that others might find this training to be degrading but for her it’s just beautifully erotic, the satisfaction of a lifetime dream, a man to submit to and such a man. It’s probably a good thing that he won’t let her wear panties when she’s with Him; they’d be soaking wet all the time anyway. From the conversation at His shop on Saturday, she knew immediately that this man could be relied on. The later talk in the car on the way back to His shop just confirmed her initial impression.

“So Juliet, tell me a little about what sort of bondage you need.”

“Well, the bondage itself is sort of incidental; my preference is chain and locks but I guess rope would be all right, as well. The thing is, doing stuff while I’m restrained; following your commands, doing whatever tasks you set me, while I’m bound. I guess if you wanted to tie me with rope, I’d revel in it but the real turn on for me is performing tasks and rituals.”

“Not into serious pain, then…good…that’s a relief. I had a significant other once upon a time who was a pain freak. Lovemaking was wasted on her unless she had livid welts and weals all over her body. I stood it for six months because of her many accomplishments but I hated beating her, it’s just not me.”

“Not welts, no, but I would want discipline, strict discipline. Mostly, I want a man to set rules and regulations, rituals and procedures…that sort of thing. But he needs to monitor my obedience carefully and be able to punish me for infractions. I need to know that I can’t get away with anything.”

“Punish how? A spanking, a paddle, a flogger or some other type of punishment?”

“That would be pretty much up to you, so long as it doesn’t cause bleeding. Tell me what you mean by other type.”

“Well…the most obvious thing would be to keep you aroused for extended periods without relief. Then there is stuff like public embarrassment or humiliation, minor torture like rubbing Tiger Balm into your clit and nipples, sending you to work in a crotch rope or tight bodystrap or wearing a dildo or butt plug. I’m sure I could come up with more of that sort of thing with a little thought.”

“That all sounds …exciting. I don’t think I’d like the humiliation idea much, but then again, a punishment is not supposed to be enjoyable. How long do you mean by extended periods?”

“That would depend on the severity of the offence. Suppose, for example, that a standard punishment for something was five strokes with a flogger but you kept repeating the action. In that case, a weekend of constant sexual stimulation without any relief for you might just be enough to get your attention.”

“But wouldn’t that be uncomfortable for you?”

“I’d still have the use of your mouth, I think I could survive.”

“What if I orgasm while giving head?”

“Is that a likely possibility, do you think?

“No idea, I’ve never done it before, oral sex I mean. I’ve always wanted to try if I had the right sort of man to do it for.

“OK, we’ll have to see about orgasm control. Any other kinks or desires I should know about?”

“Well, I’ve been fascinated by the concept of body piercing for quite a while now. I guess it’s the thought of wearing a leash attached to some intimate part of my body. The idea gives me such a rush but I’ve never dared to actually do it. The same with branding, the idea of having it done to me gets me wet but the important thing is that it be done by some one else’s will. It wouldn’t mean the same if I did it to myself.”

“I suppose you’d want to be collared, as well?”

“So long as I never see the key, a collar would be wonderful.”

“You prefer metal to leather, I suppose?”

“Well yes, but it isn’t my preference that matters.”

                               

“So you’re really dedicated to being a slave…how does that impact on your career?”

“I don’t see any problem if you want me to continue working; I’d have to keep my collar covered up while I’m at work but otherwise it should be fine. It doesn’t really matter all that much to me, I never had any huge desire to be a lawyer anyway.”

“So why do it, then?”

“When I was ready for college, I had to choose a career path, decide what to do with my life until I found the right man to serve. It came down to a coin toss; the other choice was rocket scientist…well actually nuclear physicist. I just wanted something intensely challenging to occupy my mind while I was marking time on the man front. I don’t mind being a lawyer and I’m good at it and the money is fine, if you want me to continue, I will. What matters to me is obeying the man I choose to serve. If he wants me to bellydance for a living, or wait tables in a bar or deliver the mail, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“How much experience have you had as a dancer?”

“Two years of bellydance classes while I was getting my BA with some public performances afterwards and then I put myself through law school on my earnings as a stripper.”

Suddenly, the radio pulls her from her reverie. CBC Radio Two, the perfect start to the day. She spends fifteen minutes getting out of her bondage and then refastening the essentials, wrist and ankle chains linked through a bangle. Showering, she spends a full twenty minutes just caressing the steel chain padlocked around her neck and chest. He never told her to take it off so she presumes she is to wear it until at least the weekend. The locks are kind of clunky though, maybe she can spend some time looking for more delicate replacements in time for the weekend. On the other hand, she has been given some serious assignments already; maybe she should focus on them. She needs to find a source for leather and the tools to cut and sew it, not to mention the chain she’ll need for her chastity shorts. Oh, and the bell to be sewn to the crotch. She also needs to find a fabric shop so she can start planning her g-strings. The water suddenly turning cold jumpstarts her heart and she hurries to finish washing her hair and scrambles out of the shower. Drying off while chained is not an unusual experience for her but she’s never thought of this particular arrangement. She has to kneel in order to dry her hair and back. What a neat idea. Simply linking her wrist and ankle chains by running them both through a bangle is so much more restrictive…ooh this is a Master worth waiting for. She still can’t believe her luck, that a simple visit to a craftsman’s workshop should lead to the first man to whom she has ever been able to talk about her need for submission. And so easy to talk with, like he’s reading her mind or something. No ridicule, no disgust and he seemed to take the whole thing in stride like it’s the most natural thing in the world. What a relief after the years of terror, how does a submissive woman find the right dominant. And such a man into the bargain…strong, fit, self-controlled, a brilliant craftsman with enough self esteem that he has no reason to lie to her and a fine musician, as well. She wonders what it would be like to dance while he plays his fiddle…oooh, now that’s excitement, her juices are dripping onto the kitchen floor, oh good, a chance to practice stepping through her chains so she can lick up the mess. Reminds her of the countless times she performed the same task under his eye on the weekend. She loves her own taste, especially obtained in such a demeaning way, kneeling, knees widespread, ass high in the air, lapping up her fluids like a cat with the cream. She feels the sway of her breasts against the linoleum, her rock hard nipples sending ripples of pleasure through her body. She’ll need to give her thighs and groin a thorough wipe before getting dressed, and better not forget a spare pair of panties, or maybe two pair, even the thought of him brings a rush of fluid. She hopes he won’t require her to keep working in an office for too many more months, this level of arousal could become serious torture. Good thing she does tax law, imagine standing in front of a judge and jury with juices dripping down her thighs and pooling on the floor. Now there’s an erotic image. Still, she has an early meeting this morning; better get her act together. Wash and dry her breakfast dishes, put them away, head into the bedroom, kick off the five inch mules, climb onto the bed stretching her feet up to the headboard so she can release the chains on her ankles, the last morning she’ll have to do this so early, she’ll pick up stockings and garterbelt today but for the moment, her last day of pantyhose. A pair of bikini panties first, she’s already adapted them by sewing hook and eye closures on the sides, then the pantyhose, unhook the straps to her plain cotton bra, put it on, then reach back to hook up the straps, a little awkward with her wrists still chained but no big problem. Oh well, time to release her wrists, back up to kneel on the bed, then choose a suit and blouse and a scarf to cover the stainless steel chain around her neck. The outline of chain is extremely visible under her blouse so she’ll have to wear her suit jacket all day; hopefully it won’t be too warm today. Oh, well, if being a slave was easy, anybody could do it. On with the three-inch heels she wears to work and it’s off on her morning stroll to the office. Halfway there, she stops in the middle of the sidewalk. Oh, SHIT! I screwed up, already. I should have taken my clothing into the front hall and used that key to release the chains. Should I tell him? I can’t lie to him. He’ll probably ask me that specific question. Better to preempt that and confess before he asks. Shit and he specifically ordered me to remain nude while inside my apartment. Clothing is only for the front hall. I’ll have to pay more attention, this is silly, one day out of his sight and I make such a dumb mistake. Well, nothing else for it, I’ll send him a confession by e-mail when I get to work. She strides off happily to work.

That evening, the Yahoo messenger conversation starts at 6:01

So, tell me about your day, my lovely. I got this mornings e-mail, take it from there.

I had a meeting with a client first thing this morning so I couldn’t contact you until 11:00 when it was over. I felt so guilty all morning, knowing I’d screwed up, composing that e-mail in my mind, my panties getting damp and all the while trying to be calm cool and collected for my client; it was torture. After my meeting, I did some paperwork, some letters and brought my billings up to date. That took until 2:00 so I worked straight through lunch and took the rest of the afternoon off. I found the leather, Ss chain and bell for my chastity shorts; it’s a brass bell ¾ in. long by ½ in. wide at the base. Fairly heavy, makes a lovely loud tinkly sound, I hope you’ll like it. Anyway, I did some other shopping, good coffee, a bottle of wine and some groceries and was home by 4:00. After stripping and chaining/gagging myself, I spent an hour reorganising my closets, all my business clothes are in the front now, including all of my heels; no more screwups like this morning. Then, I knelt in the living room in front of the floor length mirror to work on the shorts. Both legs are now cut away to the hip, sort of like French cut panties. I’ve cut a stiff piece of steerhide to fit between my legs but left wings attached to form the thigh bands that I’ll wrap the chain in. That way, each step will pull the centre panel across my clit and lips. I imagine if you take me dancing while I’m wearing this, I’ll be in continuous orgasm right there on the dancefloor. OOOOOH!!! Wish I had a webcam setup so you could see the puddle on the floor beneath me right now!

That’s an interesting concept, we’ll have to look into the possibilities. Have you had dinner yet?

No Sir, I wasn’t sure if I was permitted to have dinner without instructions. I am hungry, though.

Henceforth, you are permitted to feed yourself at eight if you haven’t heard from me. Generally, something light…soup and salad, that sort of thing; I want you to practise eating from a bowl on the floor. Do you have a camcorder?

No Sir.

Buy one then, set it up to record your feeding practise, I.D. each tape for date and time so you can review your progress on a regular basis.

Yes Sir.

That’s all for now then, talk to you later tonight about this morning’s events.

Good Night, Sir.

7:45 PM Ding from the computer, incoming message.

Good evening, Sir.

Hello, my pretty. Re. This morning’s e-mail. Yes, you messed up the morning routine, don’t let it happen again or there will be strokes but I am well pleased that you admitted your error so readily. I am more concerned that you wore pantyhose today.

Only until 2:30, Sir, the first thing I did after leaving the office was stop at the lingerie shop down the block. You should see all the neat stuff they have, I only bought a narrow garterbelt in black lace and three pair of sheer nylons that I can wear to work. I didn’t know how you would feel about fishnets or black nylons, I can’t wear them to the office but if you want me to have them in my wardrobe for evening wear or whatever, then I’ll stop in tomorrow. Actually, could I impose on you to take me there sometime and choose the things you’d like for me to wear. I’ll pay for the stuff, money isn’t the problem. I just hate selecting my own clothing, especially undies.

Yes, I imagine I can find some time to come into the city…as far as funds go, we’ll see. Are you still wearing the four-foot chain as I instructed in yesterday’s e-mail?

Yes Sir, you haven’t instructed me to remove it.

How did it feel today?

A little uncomfortable, especially as I had to wear my suit jacket all day and it turned really warm this afternoon. The chain and padlock makes a very distinctive bulge under my blouse. Still, I really love wearing it, it feels so delicious against my skin, and I was somewhat aroused all day.

I presume when you got home that you stripped in the hallway, am I to understand that you went all the way to the bedroom without heels or chains.

OOPS, yes Sir, screwed up again, didn’t I.

What should you have done?

Stopped on the way home, bought new heels, chains and locks?

Very good, girl. No punishment for this mornings error, this once, but you had all day to realize the problem you would have in the evening. Five strokes. Also, I note you didn’t suggest using the 4-foot chain to shackle yourself.

No Sir, you haven’t given permission for me to remove it, even to shackle myself with.

Very good, girl! That was a test. Now, go and kneel by the front door and release the two locks from the four foot chain…think about which lock to remove last and why as you will be defending your choice. Bring the chain and locks back to the computer. You have two minutes.

I’m back, Sir.

Two minutes and twenty-five seconds, one stroke for each five seconds. Did you remember to step through your chain before and after and again when you reached the computer?

OOPS again, sorry Sir.

So, you missed four opportunities to step through your chain. Twenty strokes. I hope you are keeping track of these; on Saturday morning after breakfast you will have to kneel and beg for punishment You will have to recite the specific number of strokes awarded for each offence as well as describing each offence in the order of occurrence. Any shortfall in number of strokes or description will earn additional punishment.

Yes, Sir, I’m writing them all down, thank you Sir.

Now, describe and defend your choice.

Yes Sir, I knelt facing the wall so the padlock below my breasts was most easily accessible, as I knew I didn’t have much time but in any event, I would never consider removing a padlock securing my neck until last.

Why not?

Well Sir, at the moment the chain was serving in place of a collar; if I am ever again privileged to be permitted to remove my own collar, I would keep that lock for last. It just seems that removing her collar is something a slave would postpone as long as possible.

Very good, that’s the spirit. Now, tell me what else you bought today.

I found a fabric store a few blocks over, off Spadina. They had a lot of small scraps of fabric, approximately one square foot but various shapes. They were a dollar apiece so I bought twenty as well as a sewing kit and a number of small bells and some narrow gold coloured cord. The drugstore with the post office had a postage scale for sale so I bought that.  I stopped at the LCBO on the way home and picked up some cans of Guinness and  the bottle of wine I mentioned earlier but they didn’t have the kind of scotch you like, perhaps you have alternate favourites that I can look for?

Cardhu, Lagavulin and in the Irish whiskey section, Black Bush makes a nice change of pace.

Oh, good, I’ll look for them.

How are the alterations going?

I’ve riveted the leather for the waistband and I’m just starting the sewing on that piece, I’m using very fine stainless steel wire, which I found a spool of at a hardware store. Actually, when I say waistband, these were particularly low-cut  hiphugger jeans so I guess I should call it a hipband. Am I permitted to use smaller padlocks for the chastity shorts? Since I assume I won’t be wearing them in the shower, I’m sure I could easily find small brass padlocks, which would let me use smaller gauge chain.

You have no right to make such an unwarranted assumption. Five strokes. However, small brass padlocks will be acceptable. Stainless steel chain, though.

Oh yes Sir, your e-mail was very clear.

Right, take the four-foot chain, centre it between your ankles, leave six inches space between, then wrap and secure with the two free padlocks. Then take the ends up and secure your wrists, using the padlocks from the three-foot ankle chain. Release the two-foot chain from your wrists and refasten between your upper arms, running across your back. Tomorrow, you are permitted to remove whichever chains you wish but you must always be wearing one of them and two padlocks. Your choice, which chain and how you wear it; feel free to experiment but I will expect a full report. Now you have work to do so I will sign off. Good night, my lovely. Good night Sir.

End Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A new arrangement of chain to sleep in, bizarre to have her ankles so close together at night, it has been almost six years since she last slept without her spreader bar. The chain across her back feels delicious, though, as does the three-foot chain, which she has wrapped around her neck and the headboard. Having her hands at her sides instead of chained above her head or behind her back also feels kind of weird. Hopefully, her new Master will require a more stringent bondage most nights; she really doesn’t like having nothing connecting her wrists. Still, the most important thing is the arrangement her Master has mandated, not the comfort or lack of that she feels. At least Master hasn’t forbidden her blindfold and gag. As she tries to fall asleep, her mind drifts back to Saturday night and those lovely “cuffs” she was permitted to sleep in. Waking up on Sunday morning, she remembers gently tugging her wrists against the immovable wood enclosing them, kicking her ankles to feel the chain linking them. Her right hip feels the warmth of His body, she hears the gentle sound of His breathing, then the pleasure of a hand cupping her left breast, thumbing her nipple, lips enclosing her right nipple, teeth gently nipping it, heat building in her loins, sparks running through her clit, tremors through her body, a moan escapes her lips.

“Good morning, my lovely.”

“Good morning, Sir; may your girl be permitted to serve your pleasure?”

“Not just yet, I think we’ll deal with the shower and morning ablutions and then breakfast.”

She feels Him reach for the rope fastening her wrist cuffs to the headboard, then a quick pinch to her clit.

“Up girl, no lazing about in bed.”

“Yes, Sir.” She swings her legs over the side of the bed, enjoying the rattle of chain between her ankles, stands, takes two paces away from the bed and steps through her cuffs. She stands straight backed, breasts thrust forward, belly in, ass facing the bed, framed by the wood of her cuffs and her forearms, hoping her new Master enjoys the view, wishing she could see Him but He hasn’t chosen to remove her blindfold. She hears the bed creak as He rolls out and then, a hand possessively squeezing her ass, nudging her forward, guiding her toward the bathroom. Cold tile under her bare feet makes her shiver but part of that might have been the hand on her ass.

“Step through the cuffs and place the bar at the back of your neck.”

“Yes, Sir.” She hears the sudden roar of the shower; the warmth of the steam, a hand twitches loose the knot on her blindfold, then guides her under the showerhead. She is pulled out of the shower, and feels His hands spreading lather over her body, especially her breasts, belly and ass.

“Use your body to soap up as much of mine as you can reach. Remember, you may not touch me with your hands, even by accident.”

How erotic, using her body to wash Him, wriggling her ass against that hard rod, sliding her wet breasts and belly down the length of His legs, curving around Him to get to the hard to reach parts, squeezing her shoulders into His crotch to apply soap. Her nipples by now are like pebbles, her crotch so wet she is unsure whether the moisture on the floor comes from her or the shower. She is tugged under the shower again, his hands spreading shampoo through her hair, working the suds the length of her tresses, pausing when they reach her ass for a squeeze and caress, then repeating the process over and over. Her legs are trembling, her lips producing incoherent moans. He puts her underneath the shower again and washes her off, for some reason, spending an extensive amount of time on her groin. By this time, her clit is standing a full inch proud of her lower lips, her body shaking with need, her knees trembling, only His hands on her body keeping her upright, when, suddenly, a last flick of her clit causes Vesuvius to erupt. His hands and arms support and enclose her as she shakes through the tremors. He eases her body to her knees on the floor of the shower. Her mouth bumps against His hardness, and she engulfs it with her lips, licking and sucking, trying to take the entire length into her mouth

“Tilt your head back so your mouth and throat form a straight line, then you won’t gag on the head of my plumbing.” Breathing requires a bit of careful timing but she is able to take His length in her throat and still suck on the base of His shaft and feel the weight of His balls against her chin. Some minutes of this fervent endeavour and she feels His rod begin to jerk and spasm in her mouth, and the warmth of his seed flowing down her throat. As His softening member slips from her lips, she extends her tongue for a last delicious lick. His hands on her arms lift her to her feet, though her legs are still shaky. She feels the shower stop then the warmth of a bathtowel softly drying her body and hair. Her blindfold is refastened. She is led over and sat upon the toilet.

“Go ahead, girl. I’ll wipe you after I finish drying myself.”

Embarrassing, she’s never had a shit in front of a man, and, being blindfolded, she can only assume He is watching her. Still, her bladder needs relief; the steady tinkle of her flow seems to get the bowels moving as well. Having a man wiping her clit and ass is even more humiliating but the embarrassment only brings on extra warmth between her thighs. His hand on her ass guides her back to the bed and stops her while He reaches up to loose the tie on her blindfold.

“Slip into your heels and then you can start breakfast. Use the salad tongs to hold the oranges while you quarter them. There is a small container of Hollandaise sauce in the fridge, English muffins in the breadbox and you already know about the eggs and bacon and cheese. I will want three cups of coffee. Use the Kona, it’s already ground. I’ll be out as soon as I shave.”

“Yes, Sir, coming right up.” A swat on her ass gets her moving.

“What’s this, girl? Two place settings, including cutlery and coffee mugs?”

“Sorry, Sir, I assumed I would be eating breakfast with you?”

“And you very well may be. If… I choose to feed you. Likewise, you may very well get a sip or two of coffee. You require neither a plate, nor cutlery nor yet a mug. If I wish you to set two places, I will so inform you.”

“Yes, Sir” She scurries to clear away the second setting, leaving His at the head of the table. He takes the chair she had been permitted to use Saturday night and tucks it away on the other side of the table, against the wall.

“When not actively serving me, you will kneel beside my chair. For this morning, you will place the bar at the back of your neck whenever your hands aren’t in use. I’ll have coffee now.” He seats Himself while she reaches the pot from the counter beside the table, and pours His first cup.

“Your coffee, Sir. May I be permitted to serve your breakfast now?”

“Leave the eggs in the warming tray, I’ll have an orange first. Did you quarter two of them?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s good, put them on a plate and bring them over.”

“Yes, Sir.” She puts a little extra shake into her ass as she makes her hobbled way across His kitchen. How to carry the plate? The wooden bar holding her wrists apart makes this an awkward proposition. The eight quarters of very large navel orange requires that she use a large dinner plate. Her left hand won’t be strong enough to carry it unsupported; what to do? Since she will be kneeling to present the plate to Him, it will be necessary to elevate the plate, almost like a bench press. That means holding the plate with her thumb underneath and fingers on top, no way she can carry the plate like that but if she turns the plate so it rests on the wooden bar then her hand will only need to steady it; that should work.

“Well done, girl. Hands behind your neck. Here, have a sip of coffee. Hmm…no lipstick on the cup. If that happens at any future meal, it will be five strokes.”

“So, I am supposed to leave lipstick stains on the rim of your cup?”

“Not just on the rim, and not just the cup. In future, you will plant an open mouth kiss imprint on the side of every mug and bowl you present to me, and the underside of the rim of every plate.”

“I will need to freshen up my lipstick every few minutes, then?”

“Precisely. Failure to leave a clean kiss mark will bring more severe punishment than failure to leave a kiss mark at all. These are nice oranges, would you like a taste?”

“Yes please, Sir.” Biting into the orange quarter He holds to her lips causes the juice to run over her chin and drip on her breasts. Each piece is big enough to need three bites so she winds up with more of the juice on her body than in. It runs in rivulets between her breasts, down her belly as far as the hair on her mound. Three pieces later, He begins His own orange but only eats two pieces before feeding her the rest. Her body is now covered in orange juice.

“Stand up girl!” He leans forward and with long, slow strokes of His tongue, begins licking the juice from her body, working his way from her lower belly up to her chin, pausing along the way to ensure that her nipples are thoroughly cleaned off. The extra attention to her nipples has the usual effect on her knees.

“Eggs, girl.”

“Yes, Ssirrr.”

The same tricky presentation of the plate only this time, she has to kiss the rim and nearly drops the plate in the process.

“Careful, girl; that’s fine china not Melmac.”

“Yes, Sir, I’m sorry, Sir. I need to practice this movement.”

“See that you do; I expect you to demonstrate grace and elegance in your movements.”

“Yes, Sir, I’ll do better, I promise.”

He works His way through the egg, bacon, cheese in hollandaise on a muffin, pausing from time to time to feed her a bite, always ensuring that a drip or two of sauce finds its way onto her out thrust breasts.

“Hmm…nipples in Hollandaise, my favourite dessert.”

“Oh please, Master.”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to call me that! You haven’t earned the right to address me by that name yet.”

“Sorry, Sir.  Sir, may your slavegirl be permitted to ask questions?”

“Certainly, and continue using the third person in referring to yourself!”

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir; if it pleases you, Sir, this slave would like to earn permission to call you Master. May she be informed of how she might earn that privilege?”

“One continuous month without earning any strokes, during which time you shall continue to demonstrate you eagerness to obey.”

“So, if a slave receives a command, she would be expected to obey instantly, no hesitation?”

“Well, of course!”

“And hesitation would earn her strokes?”

“Yes!”

“Ooh, this will be a serious test, then?”

“Very serious, we are, after all, talking about a long term commitment. I am not interested in becoming your Master for a week or a month!”

“Oh Sir, Thank You, Sir, please test this slave as strenuously as you can, make her work hard to earn your approval.”

“I certainly shall. Nothing earned easily is worth the having!”

“And a Master such as you is definitely worth the having!”

“Stand up, it’s time for my dessert. While I’m cleaning off your breasts, you can tell me what you liked, or hated about last night.”

“Yes Sir, well, your slave really loves the wrist restraint you made, I’ve… she’s never worn anything so secure and yet so comfortable in her life. The bondage tied over the back of your armchair was lovely as was the bit on the bearskin rug, and the light whipping was just perfect, I… she can still feel twinges, it’s so delicious! The walking around in her bondage, the ritual of stepping through her restraint, licking up her juices off the floor, that position, knowing she was under your eye, it was all so deliciously erotic. Learning to give head was as wonderful as I’d…she’d always hoped it would be and she has certainly never had so many orgasms in one night, or such powerful ones, speaking of which, if you keep licking her nipples like that, she will have another any second now!”

“Oh, we can’t have that, I guess they’re clean enough now. Why do I feel like there is a but coming, was there something about yesterday that disappointed you.”

“Not disappointed, exactly, although this slave was really hoping she would be…fucked last night? Lying there, spread and ready for use, your body heat warming me all night, so eager, but you didn’t take me…that is, take your slave?”

“First, watch that third person. Second, I don’t fuck; I make love, with or without bondage. Third, I make love at a time and place of my choosing I don’t do command performances! Fourth, there is much to be said for anticipation. Finally, I prefer that you refer to yourself as slavegirl, although you may add such other descriptive words as you wish. Now, I will take the last cup of coffee in my armchair while you cleanup the kitchen.

She slowly fades off to sleep, the warmth of her memories matching the heat of her groin.

End Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Waking up Wednesday morning she was at first puzzled to find her wrists at her side and her ankles close together until the memories flooded in. OOH, she thinks, I have a MASTER now, even if He won’t let me call Him that yet. A whole month without earning strokes? How on earth will I manage that? Look, I’m being disobedient already, thinking of myself in first person, must start thinking of myself as slavegirl or I’m bound to make a mistake. From now on SLAVEGIRL…even in my own mind…her own mind! Time for slavegirl to get up, first, the chain securing her neck to the bed, but leave it attached round her neck. Where did she put the keys to her blindfold and gag, oh right, in the freezer compartment of her fridge? Better bring that padlock along, she really needs more than the six He has mandated, still, perhaps she will make do with her old padlocks until He finds something suitable. Where to put the lock, how about locking her wrists together, perfect, she’ll have to kneel in the shower, ooh, lovely, but for now, the blindfold, make her way slowly with this six inch hobble between her ankles, into the kitchen, open the fridge, oops can’t reach the freezer, the chain linking her wrists to her ankles doesn’t let her lift her hands above her waist, step stool? Not enough slack in the hobble to use it. Kneel on a chair? Have to get really close to the freezer to reach the keyring, hope her nipples don’t freeze. Oooh, that’s cold! Crushing her breasts into the freezer bottom in order to reach the keyring, brrrrr…got it! Off the chair, move it back to the table, close up the freezer and fridge, kneel in front of it to release her blindfold. Put on a small pot of coffee, good, the last of the old stuff and she got Sulawezi yesterday so she’ll have some good stuff on hand in case He drops by. To the shower, leave the gag until breakfast; pretend it’s His cock she is sucking so blissfully.

Kneeling under the steamy water, she revels in the feel of His chains caressing her body as her linked hands massage shampoo into her hair. Ducking her head under the spray, she lets her hands drift to her pubes, stroking the thick curls she wonders if she should shave them clean, would He prefer her that way, He didn’t specify, dare she take the chance? No, better to request permission. The water is starting to cool, time to dry off.

Years of practise allow her to dry her hair without snagging the towel on the stainless steel chain of her gag or the lock at the back of her neck. Now, to breakkie. Make her way back to the kitchen, bowl of cereal, splash of milk, it’s granola, doesn’t need sugar, carry it to the middle of the living room, kneel, place bowl on floor, back to kitchen, pour coffee into bowl, carry out to place with cereal, back to kitchen, remove gag.

Kneel in front of cereal, lift bowl up to kiss side of bowl, oops, no lipstick, trip to bathroom, bright red lipstick now in place, kneel again in front of cereal bowl, lift to lips, then lift coffee bowl to lips, then squat to step through her chain, bringing her wrists to the small of her back, she kneels again, ass high in the air and delicately laps up her now mushy cereal, followed by her, by now, lukewarm coffee. Memo to slavegirl, don’t pour the coffee until after slavegirl has finished her cereal, she missed several opportunities to step through her chain, and the coffee was cold anyway. Granted, it’s not very good coffee, but Master would not approve.

Now, what chains will she wear today; Master has given permission for her to select one or more in whatever arrangement she wishes. The two foot around her waist? No, better idea, the four-foot centered around her waist with the ends padlocked around each thigh. That means she’ll have to hobble back to the bedroom and leash herself back to the bed with the three footer she’s still wearing around her neck. Then she can release the padlocks on the four footer and rearrange. Too warm today for a suit jacket, too bad, she won’t be able to wear the leash chain during the day. Ummm, this is an interesting arrangement, the locks click together between her thighs when she walks and, with the chain drawn snug around her waist and padlocked at her navel, she can feel it tugging with each step, a constant reminder. Lovely…

Stockings, now, opening a brand new package, she wonders if she could have put them on while her ankles were still chained. Something to practise with old stockings, she doesn’t want to ruin a new pair. No reason not to refasten her ankles before she finishes getting dressed. Oh rats…Master said she was not to put on any clothing unless her wrists and ankles are shackled, darn, have to send another confessional e-mail this morning. Lock the two-foot chain to her ankles, the free end of the three-foot to her right wrist, then unlock her neck and reattach the chain to her left wrist. Panties now? No, garterbelt first, snug up her stockings, fasten the clips, no seams on these, another question for Him, should her stockings be seamed? Now the panties, good thing she adapted two more pairs with snap hooks last night; judging from the last couple of days, she’ll have to change at least once today. Better stop at the lingerie place at lunch hour, maybe they’ll have some pairs that tie on the sides, or button. Clip on the bra, fasten the shoulder straps, while she’s at the lingerie place, and better look at strapless bras, too. Skirt and sweater today, she thinks and heads off to the front hall to dress, then realizes she probably should have put on her bra and panties in the front hall. Another question for Him. Another day of earning strokes, she wonders when she’ll be able to start earning the right to call Him by His proper title. She tries on a slim pencil skirt, calf length, no, the chains around her thighs show too much, how about this navy blue pleated wool skirt, four inches above her knees, should be OK for the office, no meetings scheduled for today except the weekly staff meeting. Good thing she isn’t a partner, they’d never let a partner dress like this. A cream coloured round neck cashmere sweater but first she has to release her wrists. Oh well…left one first, slide sweater over her head and left arm into sleeve, then release right wrist, kiss chain and padlocks, oops, not enough lipstick for a good kiss. Oh well, it’s getting late, time to be off. Her right arm into the sleeve, settle the sweater down over her hips, love the way it gently clings to her breasts. Change to her three inch black pumps, unlock her ankles, pin her watch to the left shoulder of her sweater, just above her breast, grab her purse and keys and she’s off.

10:00 e-mail to Him

Good morning SIR

This is another confessional e-mail, unfortunately, please forgive this clumsy slavegirl who only wants to please you.

When she dressed this morning, she put on stockings, garterbelt, panties and bra, in that order. Unfortunately, her wrists and ankles were unshackled while she put on her stockings. She was worried about snags in the stockings if she tried rolling them underneath the chain, but as for her wrists, she has no excuse. She did reshackle her wrists and ankles before putting on the garterbelt. The other problem is that she did all this in the bedroom, instead of the front hall. She used the key on the bed to remove and reattach the four-foot chain, after leashing her neck to the bed with the three footer, but then forgot she had to refasten her wrists and ankles before dressing.

She also has questions for Sir’s consideration. First, while she was showering this morning, it occurred to her that she should shave her pubic hair; would Sir want her to do this? Second, should she buy seamed stockings; she doesn’t think they would go over too well at the office but…?

The other thing that occurred was that she tried kissing her chains and locks as she removed them while dressing. Admittedly, she wasn’t wearing enough lipstick at the time, but there really isn’t a place on a chain or a lock that’s flat enough and large enough to leave a clean kiss mark. What should she do?

The last thing she would like to say is that she is eagerly waiting for her sleep cell to be completed. Now that she’s had the privilege of sleeping through the night in a bed with a man in it, she really doesn’t want to sleep in bed alone. She fully understands that the project will take Sir as long as it takes and she begs Sir not to hurry on her account. Only EAGER ANTICIPATION!!!!

This loving, obedient slavegirl needs to get back to work (and change her panties, 10:15, a new record).

Bye for now, SIR.

Juliette

Getting home at 5:45, she puts down her shopping bags from the lingerie store and LCBO, fishes her key out of her purse, unlocks her apartment door, brings in the shopping bags and turns to the closet to strip. Nudging the door closed with her hip, she pulls her sweater off over her head, hangs it up in the closet, reaches for her two-foot chain and two locks and secures her wrists, running the chain through a bangle. Then she slides out of her pleated skirt, hangs it up and loosely shackles her ankles with the three-foot chain also through the bangle. Off with her bra, the usual fumbling with detaching the shoulder straps but she’s getting better. Put away the bra on the shelf, to be joined shortly thereafter by her garterbelt. The panties she keeps in hand along with the two pairs from her purse, all three need washing, as well as the pair from yesterday. She slides into her five-inch mules and turns away from the closet, panties in hand, only to drop the panties in her surprise. He is sitting on the couch, enjoying the performance as far as she can tell, as well as the can of Guinness he has poured into a stein and is busily sipping away at.

“Sir, what an unexpected pleasure. Have you been waiting long? How, what…? Sir, this slavegirl is too flustered to know what to do. Is there a ritual, a protocol for a slavegirl entering a room where her Master happens to be?”

“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, you should first put down, not drop, whatever you have in your hands. Then, you should strip, assuming you haven’t already done so. In this case, that minor problem has been taken care of. Although, it is difficult for me to imagine why you would face the closet to strip. You should always face the direction where a man could reasonably be, even if you know you’re alone. Then, you should approach and kneel at the appropriate distance for kissing feet. At that point, you may, if necessary, refresh your lipstick. Then, you kiss the upper of each shoe, left first, then linger on the right until such time as you hear a fingersnap. At that point, you may kneel back and wait for instructions”.

“So, the slavegirl should wait until she is kneeling before her master before refreshing her lipstick?”

“Only if you think it needs doing. You could, for example, have done that in the hallway, or even the elevator, which has a mirror. A “just in case” sort of action. You know that I have a key to your apartment. It must therefore have occurred to you that I might decide to use it. Once you reach that conclusion, it’s not such a stretch to reach the conclusion that it might be tonight. However, it might be worthwhile exploring the possibility of finding some means of wearing a tube of lipstick, also just in case.”

“Um, yes Sir, but for now…oh darn, you’re right, of course, Slavegirl wasn’t thinking. Her mind is still not fully adapted to the concept of finally having a master. She’ll take the punishment and be grateful”.

With that, she performs the ritual as described, lingering for a full five minutes on His right foot, kissing with all the eager passion in her trembling body. A soft fingersnap allows her to sit back on her heels and look up shyly at Him; He is smiling, she wriggles with pleasure.

“Not bad for a first attempt, you gauged the correct distance, gave a reasonable bit of attention to my left shoe and certainly demonstrated the appropriate level of passion. We’ll work on the movements later this evening. For the moment, you can get back into your stockings and garterbelt and those spike heeled sandals, the gold ones.”

“Yes, Sir. May the slavegirl be permitted to put her panties in the sink for washing?”

“The kitchen sink, you are no longer permitted to use the bathroom sink.”

“Yes, Sir. May slavegirl bring you a refill while she is in the kitchen?”

“Yes, but in a fresh stein.”

“Yes, Sir.” Rising gracefully to her feet, she struts slowly to her pile of panties by the front hall. Scooping her panties off the floor by bending at the waist, right hand held beside her ankle, legs straight, feet spread to the length of her ankle chain, she slowly straightens her body, turns and struts to the kitchen. She runs some warm water into the sink in order to soak the panties, gets down a fresh stein from the shelf, and pours another Guinness, using her right hand only to hold the stein while she pours. She carries the stein with both hands, as it is too wide to carry one handed. She is careful to ensure the handle is facing out for his hand to take. She approaches slowly, glass held at waist height so as not to spoil His view. She kneels, knees more than two feet apart, slowly brings the glass to her lips and gives it a long, lingering kiss. Lowering her head, she raises the glass stein to His outstretching hand.

“Nicely done, my lovely. A few minor problems and one serious. First, a beer should always have some head; not too much, a little over half an inch is about right. Second, I want you to only use the tips of your fingers when carrying food or drink to present to me. Third, there should be more jiggle to your breasts when you walk, even though I know you were trying not to spill any. The serious problem has to do with…?”

“Your slavegirl neglected to refresh her lipstick before presenting the glass.”

“I was willing to overlook the lack of adequate lipstick marks on my shoes, this being the first time you’ve gone through that particular ritual. You do recall my saying that inadequate lipstick marks would be punished more severely than none at all.”

“Yes Sir, you’re slavegirl is very much at fault and should be disciplined severely.”

“As a single woman living alone, I presume you are in possession of a vibrator?”

“Yes, Sir. Cordless, remote control, batteries good for eight hours use.”

“Should be just about right, fetch it!”

Chapter 15

She returns in moments with the vibrator, retrieved from the table beside her bed. Kneeling, legs even more widely spread than earlier, she offers up the vibrator and control with the items held between the tips of her fingers, head bowed in submission.

He takes the two items and tests the control. “Oh, very good, three speeds. Seems just about right.”

Insert this in front. I presume lube will not be necessary?”

“Oh no, Sir. This slavegirl never uses lube, other than what she produces herself.”

Sure enough, the eight-inch long implement of torment slides allll the way in without fuss, save for a moan from slavegirl, hastily choked off, as she knows this is to be a punishment.

“Now, the stockings garterbelt and sandals.”

“Yes, Sir.” She struts over to the hall closet, though she has to clench her vaginal muscles several times to keep the toy from sliding out. As she turns to reach the sandals from the closet, she is startled by a high speed burst from the vibrator, causing it to slide out along with a small gush of her juice. She continues reaching for the shoes, slips her feet into them, laces them up her calves to just below the knee, then kneels with her ass toward Him, knees extra wide spread, ass high as she can get it, and delicately laps up the small puddle. When the floor is completely clean, she picks up the now quiet vibrator between her teeth and rises to her feet, turns to face Him, and does a slow, sensual strut until she is in position to kneel before Him. She takes the toy in her left hand and slowly licks the oil from it, finally drying it with her hair. Only then does she offer it up to Him, two handed, her head bowed, as before. She hears the sound of soft clapping.

“Very good, slavegirl, you are a gem, that was perfectly done. It doesn’t get you out of punishment, however.”

“Nor should it; this slavegirl is looking forward to her punishment, whatever her master decides it is to be. She does fervently hope that it won’t involve trying to keep this inside of her unaided?”

“No, that would clearly constitute cruel and unusual punishment. I think we’ll create a bodystrap for you; have you got about four feet of rope……maybe ½ in.”

“Slavegirl has a six foot length of rough hemp rope, will that do?”

“Should do the trick very nicely, fetch it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Returning from the bedroom with coil of rope lying on the tips of her fingers and a fresh coat of bright red lipstick on her lips, she kneels and offers the rope to Him. He takes it and reaches a seaman’s knife from the right hand pocket of his charcoal gray trousers. He opens the marlinespike from the backside and begins to unlay a short section of one end. While doing that, He says, “regarding this mornings e-mail, you did mess up the dressing. First, you are expressly forbidden to don or remove any article of clothing except in the front hall. Second, I understand your concern about damaging your new stockings and for this week am willing to permit you to unshackle your ankles while you put on your stockings. Your wrists, on the other hand, five strokes, need I say more?

“No, Sir.”

“As far as seamed stockings, fine for evening wear, as are fishnets, but inappropriate for your current working environment. You should keep a pair of each in your desk at work in case I decide to meet you for dinner or something. You had another question, oh yes, shaving your bush. In view of tonight’s events, yes, do it now. You have fifteen minutes. Don’t use the bathroom, do it here, in front of me.”

“Yes, Sir.” She collects a large bath towel, her razor and can of lather from the bathroom, returns to lay out the towel on the floor at His feet, goes to the kitchen to fetch a large metal salad bowl from the cupboard and fills it with hot water. While there, she takes the opportunity to sprinkle some Woolite soap flakes into the sink and gives her panties a swish around. She returns to Him, carrying the salad bowl delicately between her fingers, kneels carefully on the bathtowel and places the bowl on the floor between her thighs.

“Sir, may I fetch scissors and a washcloth, as well?”

“OK, but you’re down to nine minutes.”

“Yes, Sir.”

She returns with the items and begins to snip away her curls but is torn between paying attention to her work and curiosity about what He’s doing.

“Sir, if it pleases you, may a slavegirl inquire what Sir is doing?”

“Making a bodystrap, as requested”

“But that’s a splice of some sort, isn’t it?’

“An evesplice, to be specific, it’s nearly done now, and you’re running out of time. Concentrate on your project before you get blood all over.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“There we go, one perfect eye in the end of this rope. Not bad for something I haven’t needed to do in ten years. While I’m unlaying the other end, oh, I’m sorry, you haven’t finished yet, one spank for every 30 seconds from….now!”

“That’s twelve spanks, girl, assume the position.” She crawls across His lap, ass in the air, clasps her hands at the back of her neck and spreads her legs. “Count each stroke, thank me properly, and request another.”

“Yes, Sir” Swish, whap!!! OOH the burn. “One Sir, Thank you Sir, May this slavegirl have another, please?”

Swish, whap on the left cheek this time.“ Two Sir, Thank you, Sir. May this slavegirl have another, please?”

Alternating cheeks, with a stroke about every minute and a five alarm blaze building in her ass, finally…

“Twelve, Sir, th-th-thank you, Sir. Your slavegirl is grateful for the attention; she hopes Sir didn’t hurt His hand, those were very firm strokes.”

“Well, I can’t say as I’d want to be doing that again just now, but I expect I’ll live. Nobody promised that disciplining a slavegirl would be easy. Now lets examine the fruits of your labour.”

A long, slow stroking of her now denuded groin and the verdict is…”Missed a few patches here but overall, not bad. I’d give it a seven out of ten. Should be three strokes but you’ve obviously never done this before, we’ll make it two.” Swish, whap…”One Sir, thank you, Sir. May this humble, submissive slavegirl have another.”

Swish, whap…”Two Sir, thank you, Sir. This slavegirl is grateful for Sir’s attention to her discipline.”

“Bring me an ice cube!”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And no rubbing your ass!”

“No, Sir.”

Kneeling, head bowed in submission, knees fully three feet apart, she offers the cube to His swollen hand.

“Ahh, that’s better, you can hear the sizzle. Onward with the evenings events. Model each of your cocktail dresses for me and be quick about it, we only have an hour.”

“Hmm, I think the strapless black velvet with the laces across the back and slit skirt; looks very Goth, all that bare back and leg, and no small amount of cleavage into the bargain.”

“Yes, this slavegirl saw it at a Renfaire and just had to have it, although she had no idea where she could wear such a dress.”

“Yeah, I can just picture you at the firm’s Christmas party wearing that! They’d need a forklift to get all the jaws off the floor. Any accessories to go with the outfit?”

“Not specifically, but slavegirl does have a heavy gold choker, it takes a small brass padlock if you like?”

Sounds perfect, bring them here.”

“Ok, choker first, kneel up, head down…. Now, lift your head; let me see…no, I think padlock in front for tonight…that’s better. Now, I’ve finished the backsplice while you were doing your quick-change act. Stand up, hands at the back of your neck. Sso, we run the rope around the waist, through the eye at the navel, pull tight, mustn’t forget our friend Mr. dildo, oh, that does slide in easily, all righty then, rope through and up the crack of your ass, over and back down and through, pull tight, must get all this slack out, back up through the eye, around your waist and tie off at the eye. Just enough rope to do the job. Now then, up and into that dress.”

While she’s getting back into the tiny, little black dress, he starts up the vibrator on low, then comes over to tighten the laces. Before doing so, he slips a brass padlock through the three bangles on each wrist, locking them together in front and then unlocks her wrist and ankle chains. He laces the dress much more tightly than she’s ever been able to do and stands back to examine the effect. “Hmm, nice rear view, turn around. Yes indeedy, lovely front view as well and you can hardly see the bulge of the rope. Yes, this will work, very nicely. Now, the only problem is this bit of lipstick on my shoes. Should I leave it there or have you lick it off? I’ll think about it while you ease the pressure in my plumbing. Kneel and attend to it, girl. Well done, you remembered to step through before kneeling. Since these are good trousers, I’ll extract the family jewels, don’t want a lipstick stain on the front of my pants. UMMM, you’re getting rather good at giving pleasure with your mouth. I think I will have you lick my shoes clean, but not here, perhaps in the elevator, the suspense might be interesting.”

Ooh, He’s going to make me kneel in the elevator and lick my lipstick off His shoes, how humiliating if someone sees. Am I terrified or turned on; oooh…a LOT of both, I didn’t realise potential embarrassment was a turn-on. I wonder where He’s taking me tonight, and if He will let me wear panties, this dress is awfully short, barely covers the tops of my stockings when I’m standing and with me in five-inch heels as well…if He makes me climb stairs, some people are going to get an awfully good view. Do I mind?…. No, actually…it’s His decision if He wants to show me off, none of my concern. Ooh, such a relief having a Master, I’d never dare show myself off in public this way, but if He chooses to show me, then, no problemo. But, where is He taking me tonight…? Dare I ask Him…? No, absolutely not, probably MAJOR strokes, if He wants me to know, He’ll tell me. OK, well. That answers that question, apparently I can come just from sucking Him off. Of course, that really wasn’t a fair test, being already turned on from everything else tonight, plus the vibrator…no, definitely not a fair test. Felt like about a quart of sperm, too, wonder how many calories that was? Definitely no desert for me tonight. She gives it a last, long lingering lick and looks up at His chest.

Chapter 16

     “Right, girl, on your feet, time to be on our way, no, you don’t need a purse, just lipstick and comb, I’ve got them here in my jacket pocket.” With that He escorts her out the door. “Go and call the elevator while I lock up. Hurry.”

She runs down the hallway, tricky in these heels but how to press the elevator button? Oh, yes…the hierarchy, nose first, oh good, she’s avoided another set of strokes, kneel or squat to push the button?…better kneel, yes, that works. Back on her feet, wait for the elevator, hope nobody comes down the hall to see her wrists locked behind her back, on the other hand, would that be a total disaster? Nobody knows anybody in these buildings; it’s all so anonymous. Not her problem, anyway, she’s a slavegirl obeying her Master. Ding…oh good, the elevator’s empty, hold it open with her ass while Master saunters down the hall. Check her lipstick in the elevator mirror. Not good enough, should she kneel to ask Him for her lipstick? Of course! She’s a slavegirl. With a vibrating dildo that suddenly hits on full! Ooh, what a cruel Master! He’ll probably make her lick the floor of the elevator, too. Oh, god the juices are really flowing now, oh, please hurry, Master. Bump from the elevator door… another one…another one and with the vibrations in her tunnel, these are also a bit of a turn-on, there’s a little puddle forming at the elevator door but it’s dripping down the elevator shaft, no problem.

“Lobby, I think, the car should be out front.”

Doors close. She kneels, knees wide spread. “Sir, may this slavegirl please refresh her lipstick?”

“Well done, slavegirl, yes you may. Just squat to step through and kneel to do the touchup.”

“Thank you, Sir.” She kneels upright, her wrists held close in front by the bangles and lock and takes the lipstick in her left hand. This is soooo hard; she’s always used her right hand to apply lipstick. Carefully, now, don’t make a mess in front of Him. Oh, not fair, the vibrator throws her into another spasm, a streak of lipstick across her cheek.

“OK, that’s enough of the toy, for now. Here, use my handkerchief to wipe off the excess.”

“Thank you. Sir” She cleans off the excess, checks in the mirror again, looks ok, a little heavier than she normally wears but appropriate for this dress and heels. She offers the used hankie and the lipstick up to Him, her head bowed. He takes them and puts them away in His pocket but no signal to get up, yet. Ding…fourth floor. A fingersnap, “UP, slavegirl!” With a quick, smooth flowing motion, she rolls onto her toes and rises. He pulls her into His arms just as two little old ladies make their way into the car. Maybe He doesn’t intend to humiliate her tonight, He didn’t even make her step through her cuffs, her arms are folded against His chest, wrists together on His right shoulder, ooh His arms are so strong, this is heavenly. She can see the old ladies in the mirror, one of them is frowning, a total bluestocking, but the other seems to have a twinkle in her eye. Ding…lobby. With His left hand he gestures, “Ladies first.” Then, He folds her behind Him and walks out of the elevator, His hand on the padlock between her wrists, pulling her along as if her arms were a leash. He leads her to an antique Rolls Royce limousine, driven by a tall, dark wiry chauffeur dressed in impeccable livery, complete to cap. The chauffeur holds the door for them. “Thank you, Carlos, I hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Not at all, Sir. Besides, as the Boss would say, the lady was worth the wait.”

“She does cleanup nicely, doesn’t she. Turn round, girl.”

“Very nice, Sir. I hope we’ll be seeing you at the estate soon, she would make a remarkable ornament for one of the old man’s parties.”

“Now, that’s a good thought. Express my thanks to William, if you would. I believe we’ll show up later this month. In any event, tell him I’ll call him tomorrow night.” He gets into the rear of the limo and gestures for her to climb in, but points to the floor beside Him. She kneels while Carlos closes the door with a soft click, opens the right front door and gets behind the wheel. The car starts up with a growl but soon settles into a barely audible purr She notices the windows are darkly tinted, nobody save Carlos can see her kneeling in the car and he seems to have taken no notice. Maybe he’s used to seeing pretty girls kneeling in the back of his car?

“Will is a good friend and frequent customer. When I told him my plans for the evening, he offered the use of the car, insisted, actually. I’ll be taking you to at least one of his weekend events sometime soon. Carlos is…well, I don’t think there is an actual title, sort of what the English would call a gentleman’s gentleman. Has even been known to cook, on occasion. Hands at the back of your neck, chest out, eyes closed”

“Yes, Sir”

Ten endless minutes later, the car pulls up to the curb. She doesn’t notice because for the entire duration of the trip, the vibrator has been having its evil way with her, bringing her right to the edge, then shutting off, OOH, He reads her like a book, seems to know her body’s response better than she does. Suddenly, the door opens, a hand on her elbow helps her out of the car and to her feet.

“Well done, girl, eyes still closed, I see, and you didn’t break position while getting out. What do you think, Carlos, is she a keeper?

“I would say, definitely a keeper, Sir, and I’m sure the boss will agree.”

“No doubt, the lecherous old…! Thanks for the ride Carlos, we should be out by ten thirty.”

“The car will be waiting whenever you’re ready, Sir. Have a pleasant evening.”

“Thank you, see you later.”

“Remain silent, but open your eyes.”

The Hummingbird Centre. The opera, Don Giovanni, and she’s been standing here for minutes, now, hands behind her head, elbows back, chest out, feet shoulder width apart, everyone looking at her, OOH, a monster orgasm, didn’t even need the vibrator. She’s standing on grass so no visible puddle but her stockings are soaked. Oh, this is sooooo embarrassing; will anyone she knows be here tonight? He reaches behind her neck and removes the lock from her bracelets.

“Hands beside your ass.”

With His hand on her right elbow, He leads her into the theatre.

“Five minutes to curtain, you’ve just time to do some quick mopping up in the bathroom, hurry up, now.”

She scurries off to the little slavegirls room, oh please, god, let there not be a crowd at the sink.

Sure enough, twelve women primping and chatting, thank god, an open stall, she goes in and tears off half a roll of paper. She dunks half the roll into the toilet bowl and uses the water to wipe her oils off her thighs and what she can reach of her slit, with the crotch ropes in the way. The rest of the pad to dry herself as quick as she can, still damp but this will have to do. She snags a couple of paper towels to dry her hands, gives her hair a quick pat in front of the mirror, smiles at the women still primping and scurries back to Him. Naturally, there is a group of men at the foot of the staircase. Probably waiting for their wives to finish primping. From the looks on their faces, they’re not affronted the way the women were; hope they enjoy the view as she goes up the stairs. There He is, waiting at the foot of the grand staircase to the balcony. Oh God, the whole lobby will see, a mental shrug, slavegirl has already had this conversation, if Master wishes to show her, then she will be shown, and be proud of it. With her hands firmly framing her ass, she does her best slow strut across the lobby to His side.

“You look lovely, Juliet, that slight flush to your cheeks is particularly appealing.”

“Thank you, Sir. It must be almost curtain time?”

“Yes, our seats are just up the first flight of stairs, go ahead up, I want to watch.”

“Yes, Sir.”  She climbs the stairs slowly, walking right up the middle, well away from the handrail. She is careful to ensure a nice sway to her hips and a lot of jiggle to her ass, after all, her Master is watching. Getting to the top, she stands to the side by the door while He makes His rapid way up. Two steps at a time and He’s not even out of breath when He takes her elbow to escort her to their seats. He has a pair in the second row of the first balcony, near the centre; they have to squeeze past several couples already in place. Curiously enough, these all give them a smile, none of the disgust she had seen from the women primping downstairs. Do they know what she is? Dare she ask? Certainly not now, lights are going down, the overture is starting. They reach their seats just then and He seats her to His right. Taking her wrists in His hand, He clicks the padlock through the bangles on her wrists, locking them together in front.

“Enjoy, my lovely.”

Chapter 17

Later, she having resumed her kneeling position in the limo, “ so, did you enjoy the opera, my lovely?”

“Oh yes, Sir, it was wonderful, especially that tenor aria and the duet with the mezzo…they were terrific. The whole night was magical, Sir, thank you soooo much! May a slavegirl ask, are those your regular seats?”

“Yes, I’ve season tickets as do everyone in that row.”

“So that’s how you know them all, to be able to talk to them in the lobby during intermission?”

“Well, partly, but they are all in the local scene. I’d speculate that at least four of the ladies were dressed as severely as yourself.”

“That explains why this slavegirl felt so comfortable in their company, none of those glares of disgust like most of the other women gave her. They all smiled and chatted with me like old friends of yours.”

“Friends and customers; bondage furniture is not something you can pick up at a standard furniture store.”

“No, that’s for sure. Sir, have you had dinner, yet?”

“Getting a little peckish, are you?”

“Starving, Sir.”

He smiles at His loving slave and caresses her cheek. “Not to worry, we’re on our way to deal with that minor problem right now, I do hope you like seafood?”

“Well, not squid or octopus or shark, otherwise, yes, absolutely, slavegirl loves seafood.”

“Pretty much my own tastes, how nice. Well, there’s a very nice seafood joint up on the Danforth, a Greek place but they do a lot more than squid and eggplant.”

“Sounds wonderful, Sir, what about Mr. Carlos, our driver?”

“Oh, Carlos wouldn’t think of intruding, no doubt he’s well stuck into a good book, I know he has a thermos of coffee up there, this is not an unusual sort of evening for him. Still…Carlos, shall I have them send an order of that spanikopita you like out to you?”

“If you would be so kind, Sir, I am having a small attack of the munchies.”

“No problem, my friend, you’ll be parked in the lot out back, I take it?”

“Indeed, Sir, when I made the reservations I had them save a space in the lot for me.”

“You’re usual impeccable service, Carlos.”

“Thank you, Sir, just doing what Mr. William pays me for. The rest is just perks of the job.”

“Pleasant enough perks, though?”

“For sure, Sir. Here we are, I’ll let you off out front and then pull around back.”

Opening the rear door, he assists her with a steadying hand on her left elbow so that she can get out without moving her hands from the back of her neck. She stands on the sidewalk, elbows back, chest out, back straight, feet shoulder width apart and suddenly feels the vibrator at medium. She hasn’t felt it since before the show and is, by now, so used to wearing it she had forgotten its existence. No longer. Her Master takes His time getting out of the limo, enjoying the quivering of her body as she fights off the impending orgasm. Finally, the vibrations slow to the low setting, just enough to keep her hot and horny for hours. He takes her in His arms and spends some indeterminate amount of time exploring her tonsils. At last, when she is panting for breath…”Put your hands down, lets have dinner, no orgasm while we’re in the restaurant.”

“Yes, Sir, you’re slavegirl will try very hard to hold back.”

“Make sure you succeed, I’m looking forward to taking you to bed tonight.”

“Oooh…Sir, what torture…. And incentive, Yes, Sir, slavegirl will be good.”

“Good evening, Sir, welcome back. Your table is ready, a table with privacy, as you requested, if you will step this way, Sir….. Is this what you had in mind, Sir?”

“Yes, that potted tree gives a very nice bit of privacy, this will do very nicely, no, that’s alright, I will seat the lady myself, just leave us the menu, if you would.”

“Very good, Sir, your waiter will be with you shortly, please, enjoy your dinner.”

“Arms wrist to wrist at the middle of your back.” He clicks the padlock closed through her bangles, securing her wrists and then holds out a chair to seat her with her back to the room.

“Sit just on the edge of the chair, sit up, back straight, place your feet so the ankles are inside, touching the chair legs.”

“Like this, Sir?”  The position causes her tight skirt to ride up high on her thighs, exposing some creamy bare skin above her stocking tops.”

“Just like that, now they do a very nice salmon on a bed of rice with cream sauce, will that do for you?”

“Yes, Sir, that would be lovely, a lot of calories, though?”

“Not to worry, so long as you can hold out through dinner, I expect we can work the calories off later.”

“Good evening Sir, are you and the lady ready to order or shall I bring you a drink from the bar first?”

“Hello Stanislaus, yes, I think we’ll order now; the lady will have the salmon on rice and I believe I’ll have the surf and turf, crab legs, not lobster. I’d also like a quick peek at the wine list. First, though, our driver is parked out back, the Rolls limo, would you be kind enough to bring him out an order of spanikopita, when you have a moment?”

“Yes Sir, spanikopita, I’ll see to it myself.”

“While I’m studying the wine list, would you bring me a glass of your armangnac and a soda water with a twist of lime for the lady.”

“Yes Sir, coming right up.”

“Here you are, Sir, soda with a twist of lime and a straw for the lady and your armangnac, Sir. Your dinners will be ready in about twenty minutes, may I bring you an appetizer of some sort, perhaps a salad?”

“No thank you, Stanislaus, I don’t want to spoil our appetites for later.”

“Ah, yes Sir, I quite understand, I’ll bring your dinners in twenty minutes, then”

“Thank you, Stanislaus.”

Dinner proved to be the most excruciating torment! Being fed by her Master wasn’t at all unpleasant, quite the contrary, and the meal was superb. On the other hand, being forbidden to orgasm, when He’s taking such delight in toying with the speed control on her intruder and the ropes are biting so deliciously firmly into her most sensitive flesh is a level of torment more appropriate to Dante’s seventh level of hell. Sitting there knowing that at least some of the other diners can see her with her wrists bound behind her back and dress pulled up high on her thighs is enough in its own right to keep her juices flowing. Resisting the intense need to come while still maintaining her end of the conversation…. Absolute torture, and He knows it too, the savage Beast. Finally, after an eon of this, “Will there be anything else, Sir?”

No, thank you, Stanislaus, I believe that has taken care of our immediate needs. Very nice, indeed, my compliments to the chef. The crab legs were exquisite. Alaska King Crab?”

“Yes indeed, Sir, we don’t serve any other kind. The chef was Anna tonight, I’ll tell her you enjoyed your dinner.”

“Yes, do that. Here, I believe this out to cover the damage.”

“Indeed, Sir, I’ll bring the receipt and your change directly.”

“No, you keep it, buy something special for Anna.”

“Thank you kindly, Sir.”

“Be so good as to call our driver for us, if you would?”

“Certainly, Sir, right away.”

“Thank you and a very goodnight to you and the lovely Anna, see you again soon.”

“Good night Sir, thank you for dining with us. I hope you have a pleasant evening.

Walking with the vibrator going full blast, a slow strut through the restaurant out to the sidewalk to wait for Carlos, her teeth firmly clenched, trying desperately to hold back her orgasm that last few paces, she made it just in time.  Standing on the sidewalk, His arms around her and His lips on hers are just enough to hold her up through the crushing intensity of an orgasm so long delayed.

“Held out just long enough, I see. Well done, my precious, that should have you nicely warmed up for later.”

“Thank you, Sir, you descendant of Torquemada, you!”

“Are you implying that I, kindly, gentle soul that I am, was somewhat unkind to you in there?”
“Implying, Sir? No Sir, not implying, Sir.”

“Oh, well said, my luscious little slavegirl, I suppose I was testing your willpower. You did very well, I’m impressed.”

“Thank you Sir, you did offer me serious motivation.”

Right, well, here’s Carlos, into the car with you now.”

In the elevator: “Sir, slavegirl needs to refresh her lipstick, can she have her wrists freed for the moment?”

“No, pretty slave, it can wait until we’re inside, just remain kneeling like you are, only two more floors.”

“Yes, Sir, thank you for tonight, Sir. Slavegirl had a wonderful time, Sir.”

“It’s not over yet, my lovely.”

“Oooh, I…slavegirl is finding it hard to wait. Sir.”

“Speaking of hardness, what do you think it’s been like for me, these last few hours. It was all I could do not to rip off your dress and have you on the table there in the restaurant!”

“If Sir was uncomfortable, Slavegirl could have been ordered under the table to relieve Him?”

“No, my lovely, anticipation! Here’s our floor.”

“But Sir, my apartment is still two floors up?”

“I know, follow me.” He stops her in the stairwell, unlaces her dress and eases it down over her hips. She steps out of it to stand, nude save for her rope body harness, garterbelt, stockings and heels.

“Count to one hundred and then come up.”

“Yes Sir.” He collects her dress and starts up the stairs, her apartment key in hand.

       Maneuvering the stairway door open with her wrists cuffed together in the middle of her back proves to be a non-trivial challenge but doable on the third attempt.

Her apartment door is closed, what should she do? Knock with her forehead or kneel in the hallway and wait? She kneels, forehead to the floor, ass high in the air. The door opens, a flash of light from her digital camera. “Well done, my sweet, stand.” She rises gracefully to her feet and stands, head bowed, awaiting an invitation inside. First, though, her Master gently grasps her jaw and lifts, her eyes close as her lips open for His kiss. Another extended exploration of her tonsils, she is gasping for breath and somehow they have made their way into the bedroom. “Just stand here a minute, I’ll be right back, keep your eyes closed.”

He returns momentarily and she feels her leather blindfold being wrapped around her head, the snick of the lock, then He unties and unwraps the rope through her loins to remove the dildo that has been keeping her at peak all evening. He takes the two ends of the ½ inch manila where they dangle from the eyesplice at her belly, wraps and ties one end firmly around her right breast, the other around her left, then ties the two together behind her neck. Already, her breasts are swelling; her nipples have been hard all night, now they’re almost an inch long. She can’t see them, but she can surely feel them when he guides her onto her knees on the bed and pushes her back down ‘till her breasts are brushing the quilt. A brief pause, the sound of His zipper, His shoes flying across the room, the rustle of His shirt falling to the floor, her pussy quivering in eagerness, a creak of bedsprings as His warmth approaches behind her and suddenly, she is filled to the brim with His instrument, one long, magnificent thrust that thrills her to the marrow of her bones. He pauses to regain control, His right hand reaching around to finger her throbbing clit. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he begins sliding out and back in, out and in, a gentle rhythm that is rapidly driving her mad; she buries her face in the pillow to muffle her screams as her body begins to shake and the long denied orgasm almost breaks through.

“I don’t think that pillow is quite doing the job, don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back. She feels Him slowly sliding out of her, still rock hard, hears Him striding across the room. He returns and slides right back into her wetly dripping channel. “Lift your head a moment.” Her largest ballgag, the snick of padlock closing it snugly at the back of her neck, under her hair. His hands reach under to caress her swollen breasts, tweak her nipples as He resumes that same slow rhythm. She tries rocking her hips back and forth in an effort to increase His stimulation only to have his right hand swat her backhanded across the right cheek of her ass. Then his left similarly and both hands reach around to toy with her belly and clit. Work roughened fingers sliding across her most intimate flesh as that iron hard rod slides in and out, she’s so close, right on the verge, when suddenly, he slides out. She feels the bed compress to her left as He stretches out on His back. Then, His hand on her left thigh, guiding her up and over, her knees enclosing His hips, His plumbing pushing delicately at the entrance to her slit, kneeling upright now, she eases herself down His shaft. His hands on her breasts, establishing the rhythm, pinching her nipples when she goes too fast, stroking her gently when she slows. She gets into a regular up and down motion but its like pumping the bellows on a forge, her body trembles and shakes, her breath coming in short pants and gasps, suddenly, a loud intake of His breath and He stiffens. Just as she feels Him starting to spurt inside her, her own orgasm breaks loose. He keeps her moving up and down throughout what feels like five minutes of continuous shaking, then finally pulls her down to brush her breasts against His chest. The additional stimulation of His chest hair against her nipples wrings the last bit of orgasm out of her and she collapses against Him, moaning through her gag. His arms enclose her and pull her tight and she sighs with pleasure.

Some little while later, she feels the gag being unlocked and eased out of her mouth. “You can clean me up, now, and then we’ll hit the shower.”

Yes, Sir, thank you Sir, that was incredible, Sir.”  She kneels upright to allow His now softening penis to slide out of her warm, wet channel followed by a flow of mixed sperm and her juice onto His belly. She kneels beside Him and eagerly licks Him clean, slurping up the mixed juice like a kid with an ice cream on a hot summer day. She takes His beloved cock into her mouth, tonguing it clean and nuzzling into His pubic hair to get every last drop. She hears the lock on her blindfold being released, suddenly she can see Him again, she smiles around the cock in her mouth, gives it a last lick for good measure and kneels upright to offer her breasts for unbinding. “Well done, my lovely, I am well pleased with you. Let’s have that rope of and then shower. He sits up, unties the rope at the back of her neck, unties her left breast, then her right, pauses to massage some blood into the now painfully swollen orbs as she gasps in relief, then pulls the ends through the eyesplice at her belly and tosses the rope aside. A swat on her ass. “Stand up and strip, slavegirl, I think those nylons need a good soaking overnight.”

“Yes Sir, your slavegirl hopes her legs will hold her up while she strips.”

“Well, if you must kneel to strip, go ahead.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“That’s all right, I guess it might be partly my fault if your legs are a little weak at the moment.”

“Partly, Sir? Uh, Sir, how is your obedient slavegirl to strip with her hands locked behind her back?”

“Ah, good point….fetch that two foot chain and a pair of locks.”

Chapter 18

“Yes Sir.” She staggers out to the front hall, collects the items and returns to kneel at His feet, the chain and locks grasped firmly behind her back. She twists her body to offer the items to Him.

“No, I don’t think so, let’s find a more appropriate way, shall we.”

She thinks for a moment, drops the chain and locks on the floor, turns sideways to pickup the chain with her mouth and turns again to offer it to Him. Taking the chain, he says “I suppose that works well enough, somewhat inelegant though. What should you have done?”

“Your slavegirl should have thought to hook an open padlock onto each end of the chain and then carried the chain back from the front hall in her mouth.”

“Exactly right, my pretty; why didn’t you then?”

“Would Sir believe that His lovemaking has disconnected the higher brain functions of His adoring slavegirl?”

“Well, no, but it’s a good story, you stick with that.” He reaches for His keys, unlocks the padlock linking her wrists and refastens them with two feet of chain between the bangles. “There you go, my girl, carry on.”

She gets to her feet, steps through her chain, lifts it to her lips, kisses the middle of the chain then bends to unlace her spike heel sandals. With a gasp of relief, she eases them off her feet and stands to unhook her garter straps and roll the stockings down her legs.

“Feet a little sore, my dear?”

“Yes Sir, these are killers to wear for this long; it’s a good hurt though, wearing them to please a Master.”

“A good hurt. What an interesting concept. After we’ve had a shower, I’ll give them a rub.”

“Would you really, Sir?”

“Sure, they got hurt in the line of duty, so to speak, seems only reasonable to rub them better.”

“Oh Sir, your slavegirl is a very lucky girl!”

“Oh, I don’t know, I think its sort of a two way street, myself.”

“OH, what a lovely blush.”

“Sir is too kind to this unworthy slavegirl. Sir, may slavegirl be permitted to say that she loves her owner?”

“Loves, …owner, little… premature for that, don’t you think…it hasn’t even been a week, yet?”

“Sir, you have just given your slavegirl a lovely evening at the opera, a great dinner, transportation by Rolls Royce, the best lovemaking of her life and now you want to rub her feet? How lucky can a slavegirl get? She realizes she has much work to do to earn your love in return, but after everything you have given her these past few days, how could she help but fall in love with you. As far as owner goes, whatever happens from now on, you own her heart and mind, her body and soul, and will do until the day she dies, hopefully at the age of eighty, having just swallowed a mouthful of your semen.”

“We’ll talk about this anon; to the shower with you, my pretty!”

“Yes, darling Sir.”

      He takes His time, as usual soaping her breasts, belly and ass and then puts her to work soaping Him. Once again she is allowed the delicious pleasure of rubbing her soapy body all over Him, or at least, as much as she can reach of Him, being denied the use of her hands. Only one problem, she can feel Him getting hard, can she take another orgasm tonight, after all the pleasure He’s given her already?

   “Sir is particularly lustful tonight?”

  “My pretty slavegirl is particularly delectable tonight; I’m still enjoying the sight of you walking up the grand staircase, hips swaying, ass bouncing, flashing bits of bare thigh…I believe that a goodly number of the older men in attendance were on the verge of heart attack. They’d have died with smiles on their faces, for sure. Of course, there were any number of the women tonight who’d have cheerfully assassinated you on the spot They’d have had to get past me to do it! Some of them were thinking of giving it a try. That’s why I have my seats in the balcony, some people from the local scene for mutual protection. Sometimes we need it; too, your outfit wasn’t all that outlandish by comparison with some of the getups I’ve seen. Not all from the BDSM scene, either, some of the local Goths like to show up and shock the blue rinse crowd. Now, let’s get some shampoo into that hair.

He spends twenty minutes or so soaping and washing her hair, keeping her ass in contact with His by now fully erect member and then pulls her under the showerhead to rinse off. In the interest of getting every last bit of soap off her body, His hands run caressingly from neck to thighs, spending, for some inexplicable reason, an inordinate amount of time on her pubes, grazing a nipple occasionally, with malice aforethought.

“Sir is arousing His helpless slavegirl all over again.”

“Are you complaining, my hot little wench?”

“Oh no, Sir, it’s only that your slavegirl has to get up in the morning.”

“I don’t think so, that would imply that you’re going to get to go to bed! Well actually, that’s a not unreasonable supposition. Sleep, on the other hand, is not on the menu for tonight.”

“Moan.”

“Oh come now, girl, it can’t have been all that long ago since you last pulled an alnighter cramming for exams?”

“This slavegirl never crammed, she was always on top of her schoolwork, going all the way back to grade one, Sir.”

“Well now you’ll get to see how most people got through school, be good for you.”

“May slavegirl be permitted to dry her torturer, now?”

“Seems fair enough, I’ve dried you, and what do you mean, torturer?”

“Sir has already worn-out this slavegirl, she doesn’t have the strength for more of Sir’s loving, please Sir, permit slavegirl to serve with her mouth?”

“Nonsense, girl, a good foot massage, some coffee, you’ll be good to go for hours more!”

Chapter 19

“Right, girl, go and slip into your mules, bring the three foot chain, a bangle and locks to the couch.”

“Yes, darling Sir.”

Kneeling before Him, she offers up the items, then says “Sir, your adoring slavegirl needs to freshen her lipstick?”

“So you do, girl, but first priority is the shocking state of your ankles; squat, step through, then turn 90 degrees, go to your belly, feet up in the air.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good call, you chose to put your ankles close to my right hand, so right ankle, snick of padlock, bangle and lock the left ankle. What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Give me your left wrist!”

“Yes Sir, sorry Sir, slavegirl wasn’t thinking, she forgot about the bangle, Sir.”

“This will never do, slavegirl, certain things must become completely automatic; if this sort of error happens again, there will be strokes!”

“Yes Sir. Sir will probably remember what His slavegirl mentioned about higher brain functions?”

“OK, fair enough. Now, coffee, ½ a pot, and fetch my pipe, tobacco and lighter from my jacket pocket; you may as well collect your lipstick at the same time, it’s the other pocket.”

“No, girl, I said coffee, then the other; always listen to the order in which I give instructions. It is not your responsibility to do things in the most efficient manner but, rather, in the order which I specify!”

“Yes Sir, slavegirl is sorry, Sir. At this rate, it will be decades before slavegirl will be able to go a month without earning strokes!”

“Hardly that bad, you’re doing very well, actually. Now stop fishing for compliments and put the coffee on!”

“Yes Sir.”

While waiting for the coffee to brew, she fetches His smoking supplies and her lipstick. She spends a moment redoing her lips and then kneels before Him to offer up His pipe.

“Good choice, slavegirl, you should always err on the side of redoing your lips rather than run the risk of kneeling before me without lipstick on.”

“Thank you Sir, your slavegirl was worried about that, she didn’t want to keep Sir waiting for His pipe but didn’t want to appear before Him with bare lips.”

“That’s all right, you made the right choice. Besides, you were obeying an earlier instruction. In any case, watching a slavegirl refreshing her lipstick is one of the quiet pleasures of being a Master, makes up for a lot of the stress we Masters undergo. I mean, keeping a slavegirl on her toes is no task for the faint of heart! Will there be a cup of coffee ready yet?”

“Yes Sir, slavegirl should be able to sneak a cup out of the pot.”

“Good, bring me a cup then.”

“Yes Sir.”

She returns, holding an extra large mug delicately between the tips of her fingers, kneels gracefully at His feet, lifts the mug delicately to her lips and gives it a long, passionate kiss. Then she lowers her head while raising the mug to Him. He takes the mug; “well done, slavegirl, the kiss mark is perfect, presentation was perfect, only one problem. You will recall, I said to bring me a cup of coffee! This much will get cold while I’m doing your feet. You must listen for the specific wording of commands, not interpret, not think, simply obey!”

With a crestfallen air, she winces and says “yes Sir, your slavegirl will try her very best to be an obedient slavegirl. She knows that Sir is perfectly capable of expressing Himself, she needs to pay closer attention to His words. Please Sir, permit slavegirl to take that back to the kitchen and serve You properly?”

“No, this will do, but your foot massage will have to wait while I get outside of most of this. In the meantime, you may assume the position. Squat, step through, turn 180 degrees, belly, feet in the air. Then, you may remove your shoes.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Why do you have your knees together.”

“Sir, your slavegirl is braindead. Is this better, Sir?”

“Yes, two feet should do very nicely; remember, you must ensure at all times that I have the very best possible view of your charms. No hiding anything! Now then let’s have the left foot.”

Holding her foot between His hands, He uses His thumbs to slowly massage away the aches and tension in he foot. Half an hour of this attention is having the usual effect on her slit and a pool of her juice is now forming on the carpet. “Slavegirl, you seem to be leaking; put your shoes back on, then lick up as much as you can from the carpet.”

“Yes, adorable Sir.” She puts her shoes back in place, lowers her legs to the floor, kneels up by inching her body backwards then bends forward to the puddle, lifting her ass high to give Him an unobstructed view as she licks the carpet clean.

“You’ll have to shampoo the carpet tomorrow, if you have time. That will do for now, fetch a large towel.”

“Yes Ssiirr.” Through a haze of lust.

She returns with a heavy blue bathtowel held in both hands, kneels to spread it lengthwise in front of Him, squats to step through her chains, and kneels back on her heels, thighs welllll spread!

“Well done, my luscious slave, fetch me another coffee, a mug this time.”

“Yes Sir Is Sir done with that mug?”

“Not yet, and in any case, you will always serve me a fresh container, I don’t want to see two kiss marks on the same mug.”

“Of course not, Sir, always a fresh one!”

She returns, goes through the ritual including the stepping through and kneeling on her heels.

“This lipstick mark is sort of borderline, I’ll let it slip this once but don’t push your luck unless you really want to start tomorrow with a sore ass!”

“Your slavegirl is sorry, Sir, she is still unsure how much lipstick to put on each time, she’ll get it right soon.”

“By Friday night, or there will be strokes! Now, assume the position and we’ll do the other foot.”

A half- hour of gentle massage to this foot, then; “kneel slavegirl.”

Before kneeling back, she applies lipstick and addresses herself lengthily to His feet. “Thank you, Sir, that was wonderful, and it has your humble slavegirl incredibly aroused. Will Sir wish to use her now?”

“Careful pretty slave, that is right on the edge of begging for use! And, no, not yet. We have the details of a ritual to practise. You will recall when you got home tonight that I gave instructions on a specific ritual to  be performed upon first entering a room where your Master happens to be.”

“Yes Sir, what shall your obedient, desperately horny slavegirl do, Sir?”

“First, get partially dressed; that means heels, stockings, garterbelt, skirt and halter, then go out into the hallway, down two flights of stairs, cross to the other staircase, come up that and return. Knock on the door when you get here.”

“Yes Sir.” She rises to her feet, crosses to the front closet, pulls out a fresh pair of stockings and slides off her right shoe. Then, she carefully pulls the stocking over her foot and rolls it underneath the chain enclosing her ankle. Leaving it furled above the chain, she slides into a five-inch mule. She repeats the process with her left leg, then puts on her narrow black lace garterbelt. Slowly rolling the stocking up her right leg, she stretches it taut before fastening the garterstraps. Same with the left leg, then she has to find a skirt. An old pleated blue grey plaid from her highschool days, very short on her now and small enough that the wrap around doesn’t quite. She’s showing a healthy amount of bare left thigh! Now, for a halter? How about this red silk number that she bought three years ago and has never dared wear. Skimpy, unlined, tiny straps across her back that tie under her breasts and around her neck. Shows her nipples at fullll stretch; no one who sees her will have any doubts about her readiness for use. Of course, the likely chance of there being someone about at this ungodly hour of the early morning is rather slim. She presents herself before Him, does a curtsey, bows from the waist to step through her chains and, squaring her shoulders, marches off to do His bidding.

Half an hour later, when there has still been no knock on the door, He goes out into the hallway to see what may be seen. Just then, Juliette comes rushing through the door from the staircase with two grubby looking fellows in hot pursuit.

“Do you gentlemen want something?”

“Out of our way, we want the slut!” says the short, thickset one.

“What slut, there’s no one here but my ladyfriend. If you’re referring to her, clean up your language or I’ll have to hurt you.”

“You and what army, old man?”

“Boys, you really shouldn’t take drugs, they destroy your brain. I’m bigger than both of you put together, I’m stronger than both of you put together, AND I’M FASTER THAN BOTH OF YOU PUT TOGETHER. Also, I don’t take prisoners! Now, apologize to the lady and be on your way!

“Yes Sir, sorry Sir, I guess we got a little carried away. Sorry to have bothered you, Ma’am.”

“Sorry ma’am, sorry sir, we’ll be going now.”

“Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen.”

“Come on in.”

“My god, Sir, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so terrified in my life. Three sentences, and they were quivering in their boots.”

“Not such a large problem projecting menace, when you’re as big as I am. I once saw a skinny little banty rooster of an RSM do the same thing to a pair of bikers. Of course, he was a black belt in more different martial arts than I can count with my boots on. It’s all in showing confidence.”

“And having the confidence to show; not something you can fake!”

“Well no, but I’ve never had any trouble that way, people just naturally seem to assume I mean what I say. They’re quite correct, of course, I really don’t take prisoners!”

Long pause for kissing, then “thank you Sir, for being there to protect m…your obedient, loving slavegirl.”

“Pretty much goes with the territory. Now then, I’m returning to the couch. We will assume you’ve just got home from work, stop when you’re at the right distance away to be kissing my feet when you kneel.”

“Yes Sir.”

This time out, she faces Him to strip, turning to put each individual piece back in the closet as she slowly, sensuously removes it, bending with her legs well spread, her ass towards Him, to remove her stockings and mules and put on her gold lace up sandals. She straightens, turns to remove her garterbelt, turns again and bends low to place it in the underwear drawer of the small dresser in her closet, giving it a kiss before putting it away, then turns again, bends, steps through, straightens, squares her shoulders and struts over to stand at slavegirl attention, her feet shoulder width apart, wrists beside her ass, head bowed, eyes closed.

“Well done, excellent, my girl. Now, kneel up.”

“Yes Sir. Like this, Sir?”

“Keep your posture just as you were standing and your thighs need to be vertical, Now, at this point, you have the option of doing a bellyroll to show eagerness, a shimmy to indicate pleasure or applying lipstick, choose one.”

“May a slavegirl not be permitted to show both eagerness and pleasure, Sir?”

Not unless you’ve been deprived for some time, which I don’t believe is the case tonight!”

“Sir is a cruel, evil beast, Sir!”

“Don’t lie to me girl, tell me how you really feel.”

A loooong, slow shimmy!

“It would seem that you’re not entirely unhappy, very well, now bend from the waist, get your ass high up in the air and do the honours to my shoes.”

Ten minutes of lascivious kissing later, a fingersnap, “kneel up, girl.”

“Right, now hold that pose for a count of five, then, if you’ve approached me to present greetings, as now, you may settle back on your heels. If, on the other hand, you’ve approached me to beg, you would now bend backward from the waist, keeping your thighs vertical, until your head touches the floor. At that point, you again have the same three options. You would then hold that pose until you hear me snap my fingers, which means yes, or clap my hands, which means no. If you’ve been granted permission to speak, you then straighten your body to vertical, hold for a five count and sink back on your heels. You may then beg. If permission has been denied, you straighten up, bend from the waist and lick my shoes clean. If all this is clear, you may sink down and then repeat the instructions.”

“Sir, your slavegirl understands.” She then repeats all of the instructions, word for word.

Chapter 20

“Very well done, my precious; do you feel the need to practise or are you confident you have both rituals down?”

“Your slavegirl believes she can perform the ritual up to the point of bending backwards, she will have to practise that part and strengthen her back; it may take several weeks until her back is strong enough to be able to beg, Sir"

“Very well then, we will assume that permission has been denied; take it from there.”

She slowly straightens her body, bends forward and delicately laps at the lipstick on His shoes until they are shiny clean, then straightens up, holds and sinks back onto her heels.

“You are a treasure. Now, fetch that rope from the bedroom, the one you wore earlier.”

She returns with rope on fingertips and kneels to present it to Him, then squats, steps through and kneels again.

“Excellent, perfectly done.” She glows with pride and pleasure and gives a completely involuntary shimmy.

“Oh, very good, yes, a shimmy in any circumstance is to be used to indicate pleasure. Now, we hold the eye between your breasts, feed the rope around your right side, under your arm, across your back, under the left arm and back through the eye. Now up around your neck, back down and around your right breast, followed by your left breast, pull snug; feed through the eye and knot. This gives us a two-foot leash, should be just about right. Pickup that bathtowel and follow me.”

He takes her into the kitchen, folds the bathtowel several times and lays it across the top back of one of her wooden kitchen chairs. He bends her over the chairback and pulls the leash snugly to tie it off to the bottom crossbar of the back. “What’s this I see, still a cup of coffee left, well that will never do, but first, a message from our sponsor.” He leaves the kitchen, returning momentarily having collected certain essentials.  First, her blindfold, snick, the lock closes at the back of her head. Then, she hears the sound of a cup of coffee being poured. Then, His fingers investigating her current condition of wetness, “Yes, this should do very nicely, dripping again, oh well, mess on the floor can be dealt with later. The vibrator slides alll the way in. Gasp. On medium speed…..Oh God, how many orgasms is he going to give me tonight. Has He no mercy at all? “Now, just so we don’t wake your neighbours at this ungodly hour, open wide.” That padlock clicks at the back of her neck: she hears a chair being pulled out, the scrape of a coffee cup at the table, the flick of His lighter, smell of His tobacco, “take your time, I’m in no hurry!”

She’s writhing and shaking in her bonds, the rope around her breasts causing them to swell, again, her nipples hardening even more, the chair is starting to bounce off the floor…”getting a little overheated there, girl, I’ll just back this off a notch, don’t want you getting there too soon. I still have a full bowl and half a cup of coffee. Very nice coffee, by the way, Sulawezi? Oh, I forgot, your mouth is kinda full just the now. You just kick back and relax.”

Relax, He says, tied bent over like this with a vibrator humming away gently, her nipples throbbing, her breasts swollen, vaginal lubricant running down her thighs, there’ll be gallons to lick up when He’s finally done with her. OOH, she’s getting close just a few more minutes., PLEASE, SIR! Sure enough, just as she’s on the very edge, He shuts off the toy. ARRGH, MOAN. Some little while for her to cool and suddenly the vibrator is slid out, to be replaced immediately by the full length of Him. OHH!!! MASTER!!!!! Again, the loonngg., sllooow strokes, OHH, this is torture, OHH Please, Master, let me ccommee. Long endless minutes that feel like centuries later, His tempo speeds up, His rod is stroking her g-spot with each pass, His right hand fondling her clit while His left squeezes her ass. Her body begins an uncontrollable spasm just as she feels Him start to stiffen and spurt into her.

Some while later, she feels Him releasing the gag.

Ohh, thank you, Sir, your slaaavegirl has never been so well used in her life. If it gets better than this, she doesn’t think she really wants to know.”

“Well, you have chores to do now, first me, then the floor, we’ll just release the leash from the chair for the moment, if you do a good job on the floor while blindfolded, we’ll release your breasts, as well.”

He helps her to stand and guides her to her knees to lick Him clean, which, despite the aftershocks of that earthquake and her general exhaustion, she manages with commendable enthusiasm. When He pulls out and steps away to relight His pipe, she begins on the floor. Sure enough, the pool this time would have floated the Ark. Much later, she kneels to look (through her blindfold) at Him, in hopes she has done an acceptable job; her breasts are starting to hurt.

“Good job for your first attempt in a blindfold, this is obviously going to take some practise. Still, I guess we can have your breasts out of that rope now.” He unties the figure of eight enclosing her breasts but leaves the remainder of the rope tied in place. She can feel the loose end dangling over her abdomen and belly; it tickles as she moves. “Now then, girl, go and turn on the shower, I’ll be along in a moment.”

“Yes, Sir”

She staggers to the bathroom, not entirely due to the blindfold but manages the trick. It’s not the first time she’s walked through her apartment in a blindfold and chains; she’s actually quite well practised at that part of it. It’s the trying to walk at all when she’s just been screwed to within an inch of her life, for the second time tonight. Whatever happens in the future, today has set the bar waaaay high! After adjusting the temperature to where He likes it, she kneels beside the shower. A moment later, the snick of the padlock opening, she looks up at His erection. “Ohh please, Sir, no more tonight; your lowly, humble, submissive, obedient loving slavegirl can’t take any more!”

“That’s OK, my most precious slave, I’m just teasing you; got to save something for the weekend.”

“Thank you, M..Sir.”

“Sir, this has been the most incredible night of this slavegirl’s life, thank you, Sir.”

“OH, very much my pleasure, dear one. Into the shower with you now.”

“Sir,…? .
“S’okay, it’ll dry.”

This time, He holds her up with one arm while soaping her body and shampooing her hair with the other, before washing and rinsing her clean.  He takes a couple of minutes to give Himself a quick wash, still holding her up with one arm and then; “turn off the water now, girl while I reach a towel to dry my pretty slavegirl.”

Twenty minutes later, her hair wrapped in a towel to finish drying; he leads her by the rope end back to the kitchen. “I think you’d better make a full pot of coffee, you look like you could use a little. Then we should see what’s available for breakfast.”

What’s this, pre-ground coffee, hmm, have to get you a proper grinding mill. I’ll see what I can find. Now, what are we to do for breakfast?”

“Slavegirl has eggs, of course and she could thaw out some breakfast sausages in the nuker?”

“No, I think I want muesli, there’s a place in Yorkville that does a very nice bowl, I’ll drive us down there and then drop you off at work. It’s seven o’clock now, should be plenty of time. You start getting dressed; this once, you may wear clothes inside the apartment and drink your coffee at the kitchen table.”

“Sir is spoiling His devoted slavegirl.”

End chapter 20