Mall Princess Moves In

==> Prologue

A little over a year ago, I met the young woman who owns me.

I've told the story of how I met met my Mall Princess, whom I know now as Princess Martha, and how I, a 39-year-old average-looking guy (with a good job and a lot of money) who'd never been in a real relationship with a woman became the slave to a gorgeous, intelligent, confident and petite teenage blond girl.  I've told of how she used my submissiveness to the Female of our species to make me her utter servant and slave, and how I passed her test of devotion, convincing her to agree to move into my large house and take over my life.

I agreed to allow her young friend to move in as well, so that she would have a confidante and buffer in our home between my slave self and her superior being, and I've described just how deep my craving for feminine dominance is and how utterly twisted is my submission to Females, beings which I consider to be sacred and holy as opposed to males, who I consider to be sub-human and inferior.

I'm a male named Jamie.

I've described Martha's physical beauty as well as her psychological beauty.  I've told of her small, eighteen-year-old body with her porcelain skin and soft, shoulder-length light blond hair.  Of her small but perfect breats and exquisite, slender buttocks.  Of her tiny, high-arched feet with the perfect and plump pink toes. 

I've also described her sadistic young friend that will move into our home as well, the skinny girl named Jackie, taller than Martha, but weighing less, blond like Princess Martha, but with straight hair that reaches her waist.  Beautiful like Martha but with wide blue eyes and a light smattering of freckles as opposed to my Princess's pure-snow complexion and green eyes.

Jackie, who I address only as Mistress Jackie, is also eighteen, and also has beautiful feet that I crave to worship.  Unlike my Princess, Jackie has slender feet with high arches and long toes.  Unlike my Princess, Jackie has large breasts that don't seem quite right for her thin, five-foot-seven body (as opposed to my Princess Martha's perfectly proportioned five-foot-two body).  But Jackie's breasts are perfectly round and her long nipples jut toward Heaven.

My Princess Martha also differs from Mistress Jackie in her forms of sexual pleasure.  While Princess loves to dominate through control and power, through humiliation and deprivation, she also loves sex... as long as it is under her total control, and, as she likes to say "Her Way."  

Mistress Jackie, however, would never think to have sex with such a weak, worthless creature as I.  No, all she sees me as good for is as an object that she can torture, torment, beat and punish.  Her pleasure in her dominance is purely sadistic; she loves to give a weak male like me the fullest dose of her punishment and pain.  When the mood strikes, of course.  Otherwise, she uses me as a common doormat, worshipper, or house slave... and no more.

Both of my resident goddesses love to be worshipped.  But my Princess actually loves the power and the physical feeling of having her toes or perhaps her anus lovingly slathered and sucked and kissed, while Jackie simply enjoys marveling at the base groveling and acceptance of abuse that she is able to generate and receive from me.

Both of my resident goddesses also love to degrade and humiliate me, and they are both extreme in their imaginations and their commands, but my Martha likes to play with herself as she revels in the power.  Jackie, on the other hand, likes to sneer and laugh and insult as she watches her defiling and emasculating commands carried out.   While Martha couples her degrading with masturbation and fantasy, Jackie couples hers with verbal abuse and liberal doses of the whip or her fists and kicking feet.

And finally, while Martha is my sworn lifelong owner, for as long as she desires, Jackie is just living with us for fun and convenience for a while before moving on with her life.  My Princess wants a life of luxury without having to ever work or deny herself whatever gratification she desires at any moment, while Jackie intends to move on to college and a "normal" life in her near future.  My Princess has no desire to ever set foot in a classroom or lift a finger unwillingly ever again, and I am hers to ensure that her every desire, forever, is met.

Now that I have described the two young women who have moved into my home and taken over my life, with Princess Martha being, of course, the actual owner of me, I want to tell the story of how our lives together began, starting with the first day after I passed Martha's thirty-day test of my slavish devotion to her.

==> Chapter One:  The Move-In

Monday, the second day of December.  I went to work as usual that day, where I am the Chief Operating Officer of a privately-owned finance company.  I have my own corner office and a secretary, and I'm treated with respect as befits my lofty position.  I answer only to the owner of the company, and the four hundred employees report to people who report to people who report to me.  I'm known as a man who is fair but demanding and is extremely savvy and succesful.  I've done an excellent job of hiding the fact that I want to kneel at the feet of every pretty woman in the company and lick the sweat from between her toes as she beats me viciously.  I've practiced for years.

As I've told in the story before this, there is one exception, and that is a young woman who works for the company, a teenage intern named Heather, eighteen, red-haired, beautiful, short but very curvy and with teensy, tiny feet, who happens to be the owner's daughter.  And also happens to be a good friend of Martha and Jackie.  Heather knows about my true self, and while we keep this utterly private in the office, this fact is always hanging unseen in the atmosphere whenever Heather and I are in the same room within the building.  If her father knew that I, his right-hand man, had not only licked his young daughter's feet but had also eaten her shit, drunk her piss, and been whipped to bleeding by her, I believe he would have some issues.

So, we keep it secret. 

Today, this first day of my Princess's moving into my home with Jackie to take ownership of me, was altogether a normal day at work.  I supressed the anticipation of what awaited me after work as a hectic day unfolded.  But a couple times during the day, Heather made sure to discretely tease me with her knowledge.  Just before lunch, as I was alone in my office on a conference call, she walked in as I was responding via speakerphone to a client's question and she closed the door behind her.  With a devilish smirk on her face, she twisted the lock and pulled up a chair just a few feet to my right.  She placed her high-heeled black boots on my desk, one each to the right and left of the telephone I was talking to, and let me see that she'd put a post-it note on the bottom of each sole.  The note on the left said "Reach in and take off my panties" and the one on the right said "...and put them on your head with the crotch over your nose."

She kept smiling as I kept on talking into the phone, nonchalantly, not letting my suddenly-elevated heartbeat be betrayed by my voice.  She spread her legs and grinned.  She scooted forward and got her skirted crotch wide open and close to me.  Her sheer black panties were within reach, and I hooked two fingers under the center as she lifted her ass so I could slide them off over a bootheel.  Her bare pussy, fringed with wispy red curls, was revealed.  I saw that she was swollen and damp there.

Without missing a beat in my business speech, I pulled her panties over my head and adjusted them so that her dampness could be felt on my nose and lips.  Her juices, so fragrant and raw, flooded my nostrils in scent as my heart jackhammered and I finished my sentence.  I put the phone on mute and exhaled loudly as she giggled.

"Keep them on until the call's done!" she tinkered at me as she sashayed away, pantiless, locking the door behind her as she left.

I finished the call with a rock-hard boner filling the hard steel cup of my chastity belt.  I hadn't come for thirty-one days.

When the call was over, I took off her panties and stuck the moist, aromatic wisp into my pocket and went back to work.  Eventually the boner shrunk as I got into spreadsheets.

Late in the afternoon, the owner called a quick conference in his office of all the top people.  As always, I sat to his right, and as was now common, his daughter sat behind him and took meeting notes on a laptop.  As an intern, she was responsible for typing out the minutes.  But where she sat made her able to look at me discretely without anyone else seeing her.  As the meeting droned on from "short" to "medium", she slowly used the toe of one of her tiny black ankle boots to slide the other boot off her foot.  Her now-bare sole was pointed at me.   She began to waggle it, knowing I could see, but that nobody else could, for the entire remainder of the meeting.  A total tease.

When the meeting broke up, it was time to go home and begin the first night of my new life.  I'd arranged for movers to bring all of Martha's meager possessions from her mother's house to our new home.  She'd been there all day with the moving men, arranging her new home as she pleased.  I'd left her with the keys to my second car, a new silver Porsche, and had arranged for Jackie's apartment to be moved in as well by another crew of men.  Jackie had her own car, a beaten-up old Mustang.  Princess's car, given to her by her previous conquest, was sold off a while back and the Porsche would now be hers.

My instructions upon arriving home were simple:  strip, put on my collar, and kneel on the rug in the front foyer to await my Princess's orders.

My cock throbbed more and more with every minute of the twenty-mile ride home.  I cursed the traffic.  It was after seven and dark when I keyed the code that opened the front gate to my driveway, and the heavy iron barrier slid electrically open to admit me.  I drove up the cobblestone path to the four-car garage on the side of the large manse, parked my black Escalade, and walked around to the front doors of my three-story, six-bedroom-seven bathroom brick saltbox.  The first floor foyer fed into a wide marble staircase with arches to the huge dining hall on the left and massive living room/theatre room on the right.  The kitchen lay behind the staircase, and there were a few smaller rooms such as my den, a library, a bathroom, a solarium, and storage attached to the rear of the house.  An enclosed pool, heated, with a hot tub attached lay off the rear deck.  Upstairs off the central hall were four large bedrooms with attached baths to the left and two huge bedrooms with baths to the right.  There was also a smaller staircase to the third floor, which was split into a gigantic gymnasium/dance floor on the left and a smaller writing room/office with skylights and an arch window to the right.  Above that was the attic, an unfinished area filled with stored items... and also a hidden room I'd built up there.  My secret torture chamber that I'd used in the past whenever I'd broken down with lust and hired a pro dominatrix or two.  It was windowless, soundproofed, climate-controlled and supremely equipped.  I'd even had the floor done in slate and the walls in old red brick.  It lay behind a false wall and could be opened only by finding a tiny concealed keyhole behind an old harpsichord.

On the other extreme of the building lay the basement, which was unfinished but clean and dry, and which stored lawn and yard equipment as well as my fully-stocked and tooled workshop.  And another hidden feature.  Behind a fake end-wall was another secret room, a room I'd built but never used, a room that I'd put in over several months of weekends as a "just-in-case" my fantasies ever materialized.  It was a small brick-walled room containing a tiny steel-bared prison cell in one corner and a small comfortable lounge area surrounding this.  Perfect for a jailer to relax while tending to her confined slave, there was a large-screen TV and audio-video equipment as well as a stocked wet-bar and seating area with dual recliners and sofa all of leather.  Plus a refrigerator and a secret dumbwaiter up to the kitchen.   Inside the four-by-seven cell there was nothing but a steel bed bolted to the floor, a stainless steel toilet, sink, and toilet-paper rack.  And shackles of heavy iron bolted to the walls and floor as well as a suspension rack hanging from a motorized ceiling pulley.

Both the attic and basement secret rooms were completely covered by sixteen hidden high-definition cameras with expensive microphones.  Each recording system could be controlled via a control board and editing computer.  In the basement the board was behind the bar and could be rolled out like a desk, and in the attic the set-up was folded into the wall and could be dropped down to form another fully-equipped outlay.

I thought of these two rooms as I put my hand on the cold brass knob of the front door to my now-shared home.  I saw lights both upstairs and downstairs, and I heard music playing in the theatre room to the right.  I heard Jackie's happy voice as she yelled something unintellgible to Martha.  The Porsche was parked in the driveway, and Jackie's Mustang had been in the garage.  There were no other vehicles, so I assumed that the movers had finished the job and departed.  I was correct.

I opened the door and enjoyed the warm air that rushed out.  The front foyer was lit only by refracted light coming from the kitchen behind the marble stairs before me and from the theatre room through the stone archway to my right.  I noticed that the basement door, built into the side of the staircase and opening onto a stairway downward of its own, stood open and that the lights were on down there.

The rug in the center of the foyer was a thick Chinese silk with a simple pattern in jade and white with red hints and highlights.  I saw that my collar was hanging on a newly-installed brass hook set into the wall on my right about six feet up from the white-marbled floor.  I stripped to nothing but the chastity belt, listening to the girls' happy voices in the kitchen behind the staircase before me, and knelt.  I put the collar on and tightened that thick black leather thing and latched the heavy chrome-steel buckle.  I put my hands on my head, laced my fingers, and waited.  I listened as the girls discussed things they'd apparently bought that day.  A lot of dungeon items, I gathered, and they were working on a basement dungeon.  Wow, I'd have to save them the trouble and reveal the secret rooms!

Jackie, talking to Martha over her shoulder, suddenly entered the foyer and saw me.  She shrieked that half-giggle, half-frightened teenage girl squeal and then laughed to Princess "Hey, Jamie's here!"

Martha bopped into the foyer, all sweet and fresh and happy, dressed in old jeans and a plain white tee shirt, barefoot.  Her hair was up in extremely cute pigtails.  Jackie had a long ponytail and was dressed in baggy grey sweatpants and a pink tank top.  She was also barefoot, and carrying a bulging brown-paper grocery sack against her full chest.

The girls stood side-by-side for a moment, and then Martha said "Hey, good, you got naked and collared, now go in the living room and sit on the floor facing the couch.  Push the coffee table back a little if you need to make room.  We're gonna talk."

So I did, and they followed.  They sat on the couch facing me, Martha to my left, Jackie to my right, with a stuffed pillow between them that Mistress hugged with her right arm.  Princess Martha, my pigtailed owner, stretched out her legs and put her bare feet in my lap with ankles crossed.  Her lightly-grimed feet gave off that slight aroma of girlfoot freshly released from sneaker that I so love.

As Jackie sucked on a Diet Coke bottle that she'd dropped a long straw into, Martha started talking.

"So, all our stuff's here, Jamie, slave, and we're all moved in.  Jackie took the biggest bedroom on the left upstairs, and you and I will of course be in the Master bedroom to the right.  Sound good?"

"Yes, Martha, Goddess," I replied.

They both tittered.  Martha explained.  "Instead of 'Goddess', me and Jackie decided that you should call me 'Princess' and call her 'Mistress'.  Okay, slave?"

"Yes, Princess," I answered.

"And your name is 'slave'.  Even in public, your name is now 'slave'.  Because even if people think it's weird or get offended, it doesn't matter.  I decided I don't care what people think.  You're my slave, I'm your Princess, so you'll call me that.   But in public, you'll call Jackie just 'Jackie' because she's not going to be doing this forever and she doesn't want people to know that you're her slave too, for now, okay?"

"Yes, Princess," I nodded.

"So, slave, me and Jackie did a lot of talking today.  And we went shopping for stuff for the house, and we had the movers help us make some re-arrangements, but then we really started talking about how we want this to be since we're now all moved in with you and you're going to be my property and our slave."

I nodded.  My gaze was on her toes in my lap, of course.

"And anyway, what I decided is that nothing is decided.  You're my slave, and every day, or, really, every minute, I'll just do whatever I want with you.  So, no set routines except for a couple things.  Some rules to start with.  And here they are.  Ready?"

"Yes, Princess," I acknowledged.

"First, every day after work you come straight home and do what you did today.  Non-workdays, who knows what I'll have you do.  Second rule, you don't flirt with other women.  You don't flirt at all except with me.  Third, except for business, you don't even talk to other women except me, Jackie, Heather, and whoever I say you can at the time.  Fourth..." and she paused to ask Jackie, "What was next?"

Jackie thought for a second and said, "Oh, yeah... fourth, he doesn't look at us unless we tell him to.  He looks only at feet.  If you're there, he looks at yours, and if you're not there he looks at whatever woman is there, feet only, no eye contact.  Except for business.  And fifth, " started the skinny sadist until my Princess jumped back in,

"Fifth!" began Martha, "Fifth rule, you give me all your credit cards and bank stuff, and you show me all your financial stuff on the computer tonight and how it works.  From now on, you get only lunch money and gas money.  I'll give you some in the morning and you give me the change and receipts when you get home.  Sixth rule is you never, ever come unless I say to, and sometimes I'll take off that chastity belt and test you.  Seventh, this deal is that you're always my slave and I own you, but there are going to be degrees of slavery.  Put it this way:  if the collar's on, you're a slave and you follow all the slave rules, and you don't speak unless spoken to, as well.  If I tell you to take the collar off and give it to me, then you're not a slave and you can talk and feel free to do your own thing and act like a normal boyfriend except for one thing, which is no touching me unless you ask first, and still no talking to other women except for Heather and Jackie unless it's for business.  Got it all?  Don't worry, we wrote it down."

"Yes, Princess."

"When the collar's off you can dress if you want, you call me Martha or honey or whatever, you can talk and you can go off and do your thing like a free man.  Except flirt or talk to other girls of course, or come, or touch me without asking.  Right?  Got it?"

"Yes, Princess," I again softly but firmly replied, feeling my cock twitch to hardness as this young woman gave me my new rules.

"Other than that, slave, you just do whatever I or Jackie tell you to do whenever we say it, and if you haven't been told to do anything then just kneel with your hands on your head until you are."

I nodded affirmatively.

Suddenly Jackie interjected with "And, tell him what we also said..."

"Oh, yeah, if you need something like water or food or to go to the bathroom, and the collar's on, then you come to one of us and beg on your knees until we tell you to speak.  And in public, you'll have the collar on a lot too, so all the collar rules apply.  And I don't care if someone from your office sees in public.  You'll just have to deal with it. Got it?"

"Yes, Princess."

And finally," said Jackie, "Don't do anything Martha or me didn't tell you to do, either, got it?  Either we tell you or you beg on your knees to talk, and ask.  Other than that, the rules will be made up as we go along."

I agreed again, and that was that.  Martha handed me a folded sheet of white paper.  It was a list of these rules, all printed out.

"Okay, slave, now I'm gonna take off the collar and let's go sit on the couch and drink beers and talk about this some more.  So, be Jamie, I'm Martha, and she's Jackie."

She took off the collar and I looked up at her blue eyes.  She smiled.  I beamed back, and she grinned.  "You're Jamie now, okay?" she said softly as she held up the open collar.

I nodded and stood up.  I decided to put my pants back on.  I used the bathroom while I studied the list of rules, then put them in my pocket.  I fetched three cold beers out to the theatre room for us.  I sat on the couch to the right of Martha and Jackie laid down to our left with her feet over Martha's legs and in my lap.

Martha said to Jackie "Do you want to let him kiss your feet?"

Jackie giggled.  "Sure, if he wannnnnts to."

Of course I did.  I held up one of her slender feet and eagerly, but gently, sucked on her big toe.

Martha said "Whaddya guys wanna watch?  Movie?"

"Sure, Princess," I answered before moving on to Jackie's long second toe.

"Remember, you don't have to call me Princess with the collar off, Jamie," reminded Martha.

"I know, Princess," I replied.  "I like to."

"Okay," she answered.

"I have some secrets to tell you about the house, though... want a tour before we watch movies?"

The girls laughed.  "We took the tour," Jackie told me.  "Saw it all."

I nodded to say no.  "Nope, there's more.  Come on."

==> Chapter 2: House Secrets Revealed

I got up and led them, curious, down the basement stairs.  Jackie protested that they'd seen this empty room, and also my great workshop.  "Perfect for making bondage stuff," she added.

I walked to the far wall opposite the workshop.  It looked bare except for a brass plumbing cap set into the bricks.  I knelt, found the tiny slot underneath it, and pushed a miniscule button with my fingernail.  I then twisted the big lug nut of the fixture one full turn to the right.  I pressed hard, and it yielded like a big button, causing a metallic "click!" before the hidden door popped open two inches within the center of the brickwork.  I grasped a jutting brick and opened the door the rest of the way.  The girls stood there, mouths agape, as I revealed the inner sanctum...  the bar, lounge for them, tiny holding cell for me, the works.  It took nearly an hour to show off the hidden video-making set-up and all the little gadgets inside.  Another half an hour to give Princess the key to the holding cell and explain how the bar and dumbwaiter worked, as well as the other comfort items I'd built in there for her and her chosen friends.

They were gleeful as they tried out everything.  They locked me in the shackles and then the cell and made a short video clip, playing with the cameras.  Both of them have some computer and video editing skill... YouTube veterans.  They got an idea.  Of course I agreed to be the star of the videos they wanted to make.   It would come up later.  Centrally.  But that's another day.

I told them, when they were finished with this little surprise, that there was another surprise.   And up to the attic we went for a repeat.

The attic chamber, of course, was different.  Not so much a holding cell and lounge, the attic room was set up as a torture chamber.  I showed off the video set-up again, but the bulk of the time was spent in explaining the many pieces of equipment I had filled this chamber's storage spaces and shelves and wall-hooks with.  All top quality.  Among hundreds of items were large pieces like the elaborate suspension system hanging from the ceiling and its electronic motor controls, the bondage chair, the rack, the cross, the Ingolstodt toilet chair, the sensory-deprivation chamber and its pipes and filters and controls, the mummification sarcophagus, the pillory wheel, the morgue drawer and its environmental controls, the cages and body vault with its elaborate controls, the two-hundred pieces of rubber and latex bondage and breath-play garments and accessories and all the toys that went with that, the leather and iron shackles and restraints, the electrical and corporal punishment devices (including over a hundred different floggers, a hundred canes and paddles and birches, a hundred-odd assorted small quirts and crops and straps, and my prized collection of nearly two hundred different kinds of whips made of material ranging from regular soft leather to hard leather studded with tiny nails to tapered steel cable to bullwhips knotted with lead weights or spiked iron bal-bearings.  And many, many more items of all kind and description.

Everything.

By the time they'd finished examining and questioning, they were tired... but also horny.

"Go downstairs and put your collar on, Jamie," said Princess slyly, "It's time to go watch that movie.  Kneel in front of the sofa.  You're eating some pussy."

A few minutes later, Jackie had popped in a favorite S&M DVD, one of hers where a young Mistress has an old slave in her dungeon and she's got him tied naked and kneeling while she kicks him in the balls and then whips his back and ass as he licks her pussy. 

I followed my orders, started with jackie as Martha had me do, and sucked and licked her hardened clit for fifteen minutes as the skinny sadist beat my back with a short cat she'd selected from the attic cornucopia.  When she came, she whipped me fiercely and I relished the wounds and pain as I tasted pussy for the first time in so long.  My iron-rod of a compressed cock chafed against the chastity cup as I bucked my hips eating her out and taking her beating.

Martha watched and played with herself, jeans unziped and shed down to her knees, as her friend came on my face with a gushing squirt.  Jackie has large labia and a clit that gets fairly big when she's turned on.  She also puts out a lot of cum and she squirts violently sometimes with orgasm.

Martha now called me to her.  "I want a nice slow come," she said soothingly.  She attached the leash to my collar and had me lay on the floor under her bare soles.  She put her left foot flat on my lips and probed her toes inside to find my eager tongue as she caressed my chest and nipples with the sole of her right foot.  Jackie, I could hear, had fired up a vibrator and was getting another hard cum going as she watched the video.

Martha wanted just to finger herself for a while as I sucked on her toes.  For over an hour, I bathed and suckled the tiny precious toes and soles and insteps and ankles of my owner's young feet.   She eventually pulled my head to her gaping wet pussy and I began my expert and practiced licking until she quickly came, hard, bucking as she does, with the little bit of squirt that she makes.  I drank it like it were nectar and waited for her chain of smaller orgasm to fill my mouth with swelling hot wet pink flesh and juices.  I devoured her young pussy until she pushed my head away, panting.  She used her feet to guide me back to the floor underneath her, and as she cooled down she had me suck on her toes some more. 

Jackie was still bucking on her loud vibrator, though, and soon the two girls were making out and stripped, their tops and jeans tossed onto random floor across the coffee table.  I kept on suckling and sucking Martha's sweet plump feet to my heart's content.

Suddenly, the chastity belt came off.  I felt a pressure and then a click as Martha used her key to unlock the device and toss it away.

"Don't touch your cock, slave" she panted, "but go up to our bedroom and lay on the bed, face up, and lock your ankles into the ankle cuffs you'll see.  Then grab hold of the chains for the arm cuffs and just wait for me.  Keep your cock hard, but do not touch it."

Up I went.  I waited as ordered, in the semi-darkness, my ankles in these new bed-shackles cuffed, my palms gripping the chains of the wrist-cuffs she'd had installed.  She'd re-arranged the bed and I recognized some of her furniture added to the room.

My freed cock ached to be touched, my balls to release, my brain to experience its first orgasm in over a month of chastity, but I waited for an interminable half an hour until she entered the room, flushed, naked, perspiring.

She finished binding me to the bed and then climbed onto my stomach, straddling me, the heat and wet of her pussy pressing against my bellybutton area.

She leaned close and whispered to me, hotly, raspily, "We're going to fuck.  My way.  But if you come before five minutes, I'm going to put that belt back on for another five days.  If you hold out five minutes before you come, I'll fuck you again... really soon... get ready... I'm getting on you..."

She sank her feverishly hot and drippingly wet glove of vaginal flesh onto my iron-hard rod.  I was so hard that it was almost painful, but it was also surprisingly easy to hold off from coming too quickly as she slowly began to ride my bucking hips.  She told me to look into her eyes and keep mine open.  With each thrust she began to spit into my face as she so loved to do while fucking her bound male slave, over and over, until her saliva coated my whole face and drooled down my chin and cheeks.  She watched the LED numerals of the alarm clock next to the bed, calling out the minutes until five, then six, then seven passed... we sped up, she kept thrusting and spitting on me, then bit into my shoulder, hard, then harder, then painfully, as I finally, finally, finally came inside her mashing grinding pussy for eight, nine, ten jets of molten sperm.  Gratefully.  I stayed hard.  I stayed horny.

We wound down.  I felt rawness of chafed skin around my cuffed ankles that I'd ignored during the blast of sex.

We lay there for a while, sweating, breathing moving from irregular pantings to deeply measured draws, until she pulled herself up and off of me.  Cool air invaded and washed over my damp flesh to form goosebumps.  My hard cock still stood rampant.

"Oh, that was good, slave..." she purred.  "Let my spit dry on your face.  I'm going to uncuff you, and I want you to go downstairs and get all of your financial stuff we talked about together.  I'll meet you by the computer in your den."

And the first night ended with a two-hour seminar into the wee hours on finances, my portfolios, and exactly how she could take over control.

We went to sleep, together, she in her pajamas of sweat-shorts and tee-shirt, me naked except for my collar and the chastity belt that she'd locked back onto me.

She slept on the left side of the bed, free and easy, and I bound tightly across the foot of the bad with my ankles cuffed together and chained to a bedpost and my wrists cuffed in front of me and chained to my collar.  She'd wrapped the leash around the other bedpost at the foot of the bed and had stuffed my mouth with her panties she'd worn that day.  Her feet cradled my face as we fell to slumber.

When the alarm sounded three hours later, she rose, unlocked and unbound me, removed the collar, and sent me off to an exhausted work-day as she returned to sleep.  I dressed half-drunkenly and forged into the sunrise traffic to earn what would now be her money.

My heart soared with joy.