I love my master very deeply.  How could I not?  He is almost as well read as I am, far better with technology, and a genius at making me suffer.  I consider myself lucky to be his slave.  It is not the only thing that defines me, but it is a significant part of me. 

There are very few things that I regret during our relationship.  Well, even regret is too strong a word.  There are few things that I look back on and think, ‘wow, that was even a bit much for me’.

But per my master’s orders I am going to tell here of an incident that happened two weeks ago.  For those who would like to imagine, I am writing this story in my closet.  It is a small walk in closet with just enough room for me to sit on the floor with my knees pulled up.  I am naked, with a piece of thin hemp rope slathered with Tiger Balm tied tightly around my crotch to maximize my discomfort.  My master likes these situations.  My laptop is on my knees and I am to sit in here until I have either finished writing or my master gets impatient and decides he wants to use me for something. 

A few weeks ago we were having a conversation after he had whipped and fucked my ass—just for his pleasure.  I was laid out on the floor naked on a blanket, and he was sitting on a chair with his pants back on.  We were both smoking a cigarette, and I was rubbing my ass with satisfaction. 

“Do you think I’m hard enough on you?”  He asked out of nowhere.

“Are we out of ‘play’ mode master?”

“Yeah, speak freely.”

I thought for a minute.  “Well I’m happy with you, I’m happy with our relationship, but I admit that there are times I wish you would go a little harder on me.  I’m not complaining though.” 

“Do you want me to arrange for a little surprise?”

I looked over trying to read his expression.  “Well… If you’re comfortable with it, yes, please.”

“It’ll be rough.  Very.  It’ll involve other people.  And it’ll be very painful and degrading.”

I felt myself getting wet in that already-been-fucked-ready-for-more way.  I rolled over on my back and spread my legs to show him how I was feeling.  “Master, please don’t give me a choice on the matter.  I want you to make me do it, please, master.” 

“You want to cum again, don’t you whore?”

“Yes master.”

“We’ll see cunt.”  He said, with the smile that let me know that he was going to let me cum, after I suffered a bit. 

It was about a week later, on Saturday early afternoon that he came into my room where I was proofreading a report complete with horrific spreadsheets. 

“On your knees slut.”  He ordered.

Quickly I complied, loving that I was wearing only a long seersucker nightgown that could be easily removed. 

“Did you make any plans for tonight slut?”

“No master.” 

“Are you sure?  No one you need to call and cancel with?”

“No master.”  Warm tingles were spreading through my body.  I had been wondering and wondering what the ‘little surprise’ was going to be. 

“Strip and crawl into the bathroom.”  He turned to walk out. 

“Yes master.”  I did as he ordered and found him in the bathroom preparing some items in the sink.

“Get in the tub, lie on your back, and pull your legs to your head so I can see that worthless cunt of yours.”

“Yes master.”

The tub was cold, but I knew better than to complain.  My master proceeded to shave me smooth, which surprised me.  He usually liked using clippers and leaving me with a stubble which he enjoyed running his tongue over.  He shaved my cunt and kept shaving all the way down to my ass.  It felt strange, but I remained still, as I had been trained.  It felt good to have him paying so much attention to my exposed body parts. 

“Stay there.”  He ordered when he was done. 

I closed my eyes as he douched and enemized me.  Sometimes my master likes to keep the enema in me longer, but on that day he just kept it functional. 

“Squat and release.”  He ordered.

I got a little head rush from the blood flowing again when I stood up, but while gripping the side of the tub I managed to do as ordered. 

“Shower and come out to the bedroom.  Don’t wash your hair, I don’t want it wet.”  He ordered.

I came out to the bedroom and was disappointed to see what was on the bed.  An old dress that I had bought during a brief organic clothing period.  Brown and faded purple, frumpy and loose.  Not sexy at all.  Next to it were my dirty work sneakers. 

“Wear these and nothing else.  Don’t bring a purse or anything else.  Meet me by the door.”

I debated putting some perfume on but decided it wasn’t worth getting punished for it.

Master was reading a newspaper by the door.  He looked me up and down without expression.  “Pull the dress up to your armpits slut.”

I did as told, feeling excited again by being exposed to his gaze, even in the ridiculous sneakers.  He motioned with his hand for me to turn around.  I did, wondering at his curious behavior. 

“Good, no marks on you.”  I realized then that he hadn’t spanked or beaten me in a few days. “Let’s go.”

We got in the car that was parked in front of our house.  A quick glance revealed that there was no one on the street to see me in the ridiculous get up. 

The drive went by in silence, and I reflected again on how fond I am of Troy.  It is a bizarre, beautiful, poverty-stricken small city with all sorts of fantastic places to do kinky things.  And to spectate on humanity’s strange little jokes. 

We went through downtown—all six by six blocks of it—up the hill and headed north on Tenth street.  Then my master made the quick hidden turn off into Oakwood cemetery.  One of the most amazing cemeteries I have ever seen, one of Troy’s high spots. 

My master slowed down to accommodate the potholed roads and then the dirt paths that comprise the routes through the large cemetery.  It is amazingly beautiful, and old, started in 1850.  The car stopped and master indicated that I should get out.  He took a duffel bag out of the trunk and I felt my pulse surge.  We were going to play.  Outdoors.  In a cemetery. 

“This way.”  He said and started walking. 

Nervously I followed him into a more wooded area of the cemetery.  I was excited, but a little scared.  He said this was going to be the hardest thing I had ever experienced. 

Through lines of old headstones and broken down walls and trees.  Up a hill with more trees and rocks.  We came to an area that was behind one of the larger mausoleums, the Van Thliters’ mausoleum.  It didn’t look like anyone had been there in a very long time.  The grass was longer than in the rest of the cemetery. 

“Strip slut.”  He ordered with a menacing tone that as always turned me on immediately.  “Everything.” 

Quickly I took the dress off and bent over to undo my sneakers.  I made sure to face away from him while bending over as he had trained me, so that he could see my ass and cunt exposed properly.  There was nowhere good to put the dress and shoes so I just laid them at the foot of the tree.  Then I stood in front of him again. 

“Turn around.”

He bound my arms behind my back, wrist to elbow with rope.  I felt him test to make sure that it was tight enough that I couldn’t get out, but that my circulation wasn’t cut off.  That made me worry a bit, if he was worried about my circulation that meant I was going to be bound for a while.  Quite a while possibly.  He slapped my ass, indicating satisfaction with his work. 

“Kneel in front of me.” 

I did, and with happiness saw him pull out his delightful cock from his pants.  I opened my mouth and waited while he slapped my cheeks with it a few times.  It turns me on so much when he shows contempt with such small gestures. 

“Suck it, whore.”

Eagerly I knelt in and started sucking.  He hadn’t given me permission to start with licking, so I went right for the sucking.  This was probably because he was fully erect.  I used my tongue on the ridge as I moved up and down, making sure to maintain suction pressure.  My ass had been welted a few times for not maintaining proper suction.  He put his hands on my hair, but let me do the work.  To show my appreciation I gagged myself as often as I could.  I’ve never learned how to deep throat properly, my dentist told me once that I have an abnormally small mouth.  So I make up for my lack of basic skills by gagging myself, which my master says is a wonderful sensation on his cock. 

“I’m going to ask you some question slut, and you are only allowed to answer if the answer is in the negative.  If you agree to my questions, keep sucking.  But just remember, if you stop, I’m keeping your body beaten for days and you’ll be sleeping hogtied for two weeks.” 

I could feel moisture leaking down my inner thighs.  I love it when he threatens me—because I know he’ll carry through on it. 

“You agree to be used like a whore?”

I kept sucking.

“You agree to be given away to other men?”

I kept sucking.  Also I ignored the sounds of a car in the distance, clearly within the cemetery. 

“You agree to be used in absolutely any way by them?”

I kept sucking.

“You agree to serve others as you would me, with absolutely devotion and obedience?”

I kept sucking.

“You agree to be beaten, raped, tortured, and used as an absolute object for other people’s abuse?”

I sucked as hard as I could. 

“I am going to cum now, and I suggest you swallow it all.”

He came, burying his hands in my hair.  I swallowed and swallowed with delight.  The taste isn’t my favorite thing, but the knowledge that I have his semen in my body in any way always excites me. 

Using my hair he pulled me up so I was standing in front of him, gloriously naked in the mid-fall chilly air.  He grabbed both my pierced nipples in his hands and pulled me close.  Looking me in the eye he said, “just remember, I love you, and you belong to me.  Completely.”

“Yes master.”  I whispered. 

He twisted my nipples, hurting them.  I whimpered, but didn’t try to pull away.  My nipples are his torment.  My duty is to withstand as much as I can.  He is merciful, if it is too much for me to take on my own, he ties me up. 

Then he let go and went back into the duffel bag.  He produced a rope, and threw it over the tree branch above us, tying it in place.  He took each edge and tied them tightly around my breasts, making me strain to keep the pain off of my breasts.  Then he took out of the duffel bag the biggest penis gag that he usually owned on me for punishment.  Obediently I opened my mouth and took it trying not to gag again. 

He stood back after buckling it in place.  “Yes,” he nodded, “you look just right.  They’ll be here in a few hours.  Try not to wet yourself.”

I looked at him frantically.  I’d realized he was going to let other people use me, but I didn’t think that he wasn’t going to be there for it.  But the gag prevented me from being able to say anything. 

With growing fear I watched him walk away…