Slave Days: A Day In The Life II--Gloria by Master Ivan

[mrivan]

Slave Days: A Day In The Life II--Gloria
by Master Ivan

I moaned.

My arms were held high, spread overhead. The leather that held them was merciful, able to support most of my weight without cutting off circulation or inflicting undue pain on my wrists. My ankles were also held up behind me, spread very wide, so my body hung in an inverted arch.

My cunt was empty. I would not be allowed pleasure for this ordeal. The seven piercings on each of my cuntlips held rings that would keep my cunt sealed tight from any penetration, from any touch to my swollen clitoris. That had been true for an extended time already--I was being taught that a slave's pleasure is only a distraction from her primary purpose, that of giving pleasure to others. With the extreme spread of my legs, I felt the pull from the rings holding my labia together while my ass gaped open and ready.

My nipples were pulled out gently by the loops encircling them, string pulling them out and down to pulleys where a crank could be turned to increase or decrease the tension. The nipples were also lightly clamped--tightly enough to inflict a bit of pain, but not so tight that they would have to be removed anytime soon to insure circulation. Weights hung from them, swinging freely with the movements of my body.

My eyes were adorned with two red circles. Translucent fabric, they admitted a fair amount of light, but what I could see was blurred and colored red as if from intense red spotlights. I could see red figures around me but could not make out faces. I know my own body stood out brilliantly under the white spotlights, bright enough on me that I could feel their heat. A few candles also added to the atmosphere, burning somewhere under my body where I could feel some heat from them as well. I was sweating, and my body, I knew, would be covered with a sheen from it.

Rubber wedges held my jaws open. I would not be able to close my mouth. I had no desire to deny access to the cock that was buried in my throat--my training was thorough, and I had come to love cocksucking, was addicted to it. Still, my lips were free to close around that thrusting shaft to enhance its pleasure and to tightly hold it if he chose to ejaculate into my mouth so that I could swallow every drop. A light cord from the back of my eyepieces also served to hold my head back at the right angle for the deepest penetration of my throat.

The platform on which I was hung rotated slowly in the center of the room, so those watching me being used could see me from every angle. Cameras also took images from beneath me, presenting the views to the monitors around the room where all could see--and increase their arousal. One framed my face and stretched breasts. Another was a closeup of my opened and displayed crotch, where some of the cocks enjoyed fucking my ass while they waited their turn for my mouth, pushing me harder onto the cocks fucking my throat while adding a unique taste to their own cocks which I would clean from them later when I sucked them.

I had been hanging for at least a couple of hours, and I knew that I might well be able to hang for a couple more as the men in the room all eventually used my mouth. I was at a peak of arousal from when the first cock pushed into my throat. I remained aroused, moaning, my cunt continuing to ooze juices which by now would be dripping onto the floor in a puddle which I knew I would be forced to lick up later. Free women, I knew, had an image of sexual paradise in which an orgasm would last forever, growing more intense every second. And for a slavegirl, it was the approach to an orgasm which would never arrive that would last forever and only intensify, leaving her frustrated, but nevertheless carrying forward with even more intensity because she knew she would be totally at the mercy of those who used her.

I moaned again as the cock shot its load into my mouth and I began to swallow, and seconds later it withdrew, to be replaced instantly by the next hard soiled cock...

* * * * *

The image of the dream vanished as I felt the yank on my posture collar. I felt the hard floor next to my Master's bed, the metal shackles which held my wrists and elbows firmly behind my back, the chains on my ankles, the ever-present soreness on my nipples from the previous day's ordeals, the moisture oozing from my sealed cunt which remained denied for well over a week now. The tastes remained in my mouth from a variety of fluids I had swallowed, and my arousal rose as I recalled the scenes, remembering my slavery.

I moved in automatic response to the pull on my collar, still disoriented without my eyesight, since the upper half of my head was locked into a half-mask of tight leather keeping me blinded and sweating. With nothing to guide me but the pull on the collar, I struggled to my knees, then opened my mouth.

There were no words spoken. His cock pushed into my mouth, semi-hard, tasting and smelling of the sweat of a night under his covers. I closed my lips around him and gently licked the head as he hardened, then pushed into my throat. I felt my nipples rubbing against the side of the bed, stimulating them and drawing a moan from my denied body. He used the leash in one hand and the bindings on my leather half mask in his other hand to move my head for his pleasure, sometimes holding back so my lips could suck him and my tongue caress him, sometimes driving brutally into my throat, to 'fuck my mouth like a cunt', as he liked to describe it.

Soon, he came. There was no need for him to hold off or prolong his pleasure--he was there for only his own satisfaction and had no demand on him to give me anything in return. It was then I tensed--would he release me, or remain in my mouth to increase my humiliation several orders of magnitude?

He remained; his hands tightened as I cleaned his cock and gently caressed him after his cum. And I shuddered, knowing what was coming, as I tightened my lips around his softening shaft in preparation.

He began to piss. It did arouse me now, as it reinforced the reality of how far down the path of degradation he had brought me. I submitted to it willingly, drinking down his first piss of the morning as fast as it filled my mouth. Still, I shuddered at the thought. It was the kind of experience a slave never fully got used to. If she did, it would no longer bring pleasure to a Master who enjoys so much the humiliation and degradation of a slavegirl.

And now I knew that I would remain restrained for another half hour to an hour. The light chains connecting my wrists to my ankles would prevent me from rising from my knees. I would kneel, the taste of his piss and cum fresh in my mouth to be savored. And as he walked away from me to shower and dress, he still had not spoken.

I knew also that I must have served him adequately. When I did not, my nipples would erupt in pain as he clamped them, and the clamps would remain in place at least until he finished showering. How much more severe my punishment would become later would depend on how my service fell short. Fortunately, he was pleased with me this time.

I looked at those thoughts as they passed thru my mind. I smiled, realizing a minor flaw in my attitude, in that I decided it was good he did not punish me. I was selfish, thinking of my own comfort and desires before his. I knew that he took pleasure in punishing me when I earned it...or when I did not earn it. Yet, I also knew that if he chose to punish, with or without justification beyond his immediate desires, he would have inflicted whatever punishment he wished. So either way, he would please himself. I took some consolation in that, and in knowing that I was indeed thinking of his pleasure. Perhaps my mind set was in a good place--fearing punishment enough to respond with the fear and struggles of a girl helpless in the hands of a Master, which would please him, yet willing to suffer for him. He would teach me well about these subtleties, and I would ask him, when permitted, to share his thoughts on how I could best serve his wishes.

The shower was turned off, and I heard him drying himself, then dressing. I had begun to wonder what we would be doing today.

He stood before me, and I felt the edge of his bathrobe brush against my breasts. Indeed, having my elbows forced together behind me not only made me more helpless, more brazenly presented to the eye, but also exposed my tits to more frequent touches, both intentional and accidental. I rarely lost awareness of my body when I was restrained by him--which was part of his method in training me.

His hands unlocked the half-mask and soon it was unlaced. He loosened it slowly--the tight pressure around my head would open up the blood vessels, and too rapid a change in pressure could cause blood to drain from my head and result in my passing out. He cared for me well as he moved slowly to release that pressure.

The mask was removed. I shut my eyes against the morning sunlight which streamed into the room thru the open curtains. I felt it already on my body and knew the exposure of a naked bound slavegirl to anyone who might chance to pass by the window and look in. It hardly mattered to me now, as I was sure I would be far more exposed long before this day ended. I always was.

I looked straight ahead at my Master and, still kneeling, first focused on his cock, soft now, exposed thru the partially opened robe. I lowered my eyes and awaited his pleasure. He released my linked elbows and wrists, then placed me in my sirik--light chains connecting my wrists, ankles and collar. They did little to restrain my movements, yet would prohibit me from wearing most clothing.

'Breakfast, pig. Scrambled eggs in a skillet, with cheese and minced onion. Serve yourself a portion, in your dog dish. Juice and hot chocolate.'

'Yes, Master. May this slave use the bathroom, Master?'

'Yes, slut.'

I crawled from his presence, then rose to my feet. I quickly used the bathroom, since my own morning piss had been delayed while I served, and Master's piss added to the pressure. I then moved quickly to the kitchen to start breakfast.

I cooked with skill, having learned early on to ignore the occasional stinging of spattering grease hitting my body as the meal was fried. It reminded me again of my nakedness and vulnerability. Soon, I had the food in front of Master, perfectly done, and awaited his approval on my knees before setting myself a portion. He nodded, and I served myself. I put my share into my dog dish, placed the dish on the floor with bowls containing the juice and chocolate nearby, then knelt to have my wrists shackled behind me again, where they would remain until I finished eating.

We finished breakfast, then he released my wrists so I could clean the kitchen. We then sat in the living room and talked, Master on the sofa and I on my knees before him, my unshackled wrists held behind my back.

He just looked at me, as he often does. I felt more naked at such times than at any other time--a true Master knows well the mind of his slave, and can see right thru her. He could tell I had had some issues earlier, I knew, for I could never conceal such things from him even if I wanted to.

'So what is it, slave? Something is bothering you...'

'Y-yes, Master. I felt weakness this morning when serving you. I felt concern over whether you would piss in my mouth, then later relief when I realized I was not going to be punished for any lack of good service. It occurred to me that if you took pleasure in punishing your slave, then to be the best slave, I should hope you DO punish me, for cause or for your pleasure, and so I was thinking of my own needs first.'

He smiled, reassuringly, at me, then told me, 'Turn, and present your ass for punishment!'

I shuddered briefly, then obeyed him, my ass well-presented. He took one of his milder whips which was within reach and gave me one hard stroke--hard enough to bring out a scream from me--but only one.

'Back to your position, slut.'

I moaned briefly, then returned to my knees and thanked him for punishing me.

'Do you know what you were punished for, slave?'

'No, Master.'

'For my whim. Not for your doubts earlier, or for your mind set, but simply on my whim. And in part, to prove to you again, if it ever needed proving, that a Master does not need a reason to punish his property.'

'Y-yes, Master.'

He caressed the side of my face affectionately then. 'You did well, slut. You strive for perfection, yet in some things, perfection may well be an impossibility. A slavegirl is supposed to welcome any punishment a Master gives her, yet at the same time she is supposed to show him her fear of punishment, her awareness that punishment will guide her into better performance by making her fear to be disobedient. Rest assured that I will guide you always in such things and correct you always when you fall short. But in the meantime, it is best for you to just react naturally to things--this will tell me much about your state of training. And yes, I DO enjoy your fear of punishment. I hope you never get so well trained you become an automaton, never showing the slightest distaste for anything ever imposed upon you. You would become so boring to use I might have to sell you. Better to be like a piece of good art work, always containing small imperfections which add to the humanity of the piece.'

I smiled back at him, and replied, 'I will always do my best, Master.'

* * * * *

He had a bit of mail to read and some other things to attend to, so he placed me in bondage as an ornament for that time. It was the leather half-mask again, but this time he added a penis gag--one which he knew would keep me aroused by forcing an artificial cock to fill my mouth. My wrists were hoisted straight up over my head, high enough to just bring my heels off the floor. My nipples were not clamped, but were looped with thin cords with a couple ounces of weights attached which would swing with my every breath or motion, adding to my arousal.

He sat at his computer in silence, doing what he needed to do as he took in the sight of me. I had no way to know when his eyes were on my suffering body and when not. I knew that with every flex of muscle in my stretched and strained form, I would present a stimulating sight to him, yet I had no way to know when he was actually watching me. And thru it all, my lips and tongue caressed the rubber cock in my mouth. He knew well how much such things excited me, and I knew he enjoyed seeing my arousal as I hung there.

It might have been half an hour or an hour and a half--it was hard to judge time when bound and so thoroughly aroused--but he finally lowered my wrists and freed them. He leashed me and led me on all fours to where I could dress, then finally took off the mask and gag. I again saw his purpose, as he was teaching me dependence on the leash to guide me, teaching me to trust his lead and depend on his guidance.

'We're going out this morning, cocksucker. Dress.'

I always felt that slave-thrill when he called me that. Sucking his cock--or the cocks of his friends--was indeed one of my primary purposes in life as a slavegirl. I would never get over the mild humiliation and degradation I felt from the act, or the more intense feelings when I had to suck off a group of his friends.

I stood and looked at my available clothing. It was the wardrobe of a slavegirl--any experienced eye would see that quickly enough. There were no pants, no pantyhose, no panties offering more coverage than a G-string. Most of my bras did not cover the nipples at all, unless they did so with a material designed to punish, such as burlap or needlepoints--and those locked on. My skirts were always mid-thigh or higher, and were either skin tight or flared to expose me completely if I spun around. My tops were all thin enough to explicitly reveal my perpetually swollen nipples and offered enough cleavage or side exposure to reveal a great deal of my breasts. Most of the tops included a few buttons down the center which could be unbuttoned or removed if he wished to punish me in public with even more exposure.

I always asked for permission before dressing, to get his approval for anything I wore. As always, he accepted my proposal, then modified it to expose me just a bit more than what I asked. Today, it would be my black 4' strapped pumps, black seamed stockings with a garter belt, no panties, a black flared skirt which was short enough to make me very cautious about how I moved and a bright red halter top which closed with a solitary button. It also had a buckle thing in back which, when tightened, stretched the material in front as well as showing even more of my breasts. I could see already how he would increase my exposure if he wished to humiliate me on the street. He removed my ankle shackles to make way for the pumps--the shoes had locking buckles which could be linked if he wished to restrain my legs. And I kept both my regular slave collar and my wrist shackles on for the trip.

I was given no wrap or jacket of any kind for the trip, of course. I was to know myself unable to cover my body during the trip and would remain exposed to the eyes of all. I knew that anyone could see my nipples when they erected, revealing my arousal. And having spent nearly a week since my last permitted pleasure, I was aroused most of the time.

The first stop was the combat zone. Master made most of his own leather toys and such, but there were some things he had to buy, so I knew we would be buying something to add to our collection. I reddened at some of the men who glared at me openly on the street, their eyes undressing me, and I know Master parked a couple blocks away from the store with this in mind. I was grateful he didn't attach a leash to my collar until we got to the door of the store. He did indeed leash me there and led me in. I responded, as per our training, by crossing my unbound wrists behind my back, feeling the material of my top tighten and open a bit more as I did so, revealing me.

He brought me right to the restraints area and greeted the man behind the counter, one of his old friends. As he did so, he did indeed lock my wrists behind my back. I quickly looked around me, fearfully, at the faces of the men in the store who, understandably, were eyeing the scene as it developed and would continue to do so.

'I'm here to pick up that special order helmet we talked about?'

'Ah yes. Got it right here waiting for you.'

I cringed. A helmet--it would no doubt blind me and impose God knows what other discomforts as I stood there shackled and exposed.

It was leather, lined with rubber. There were no eye holes at all. Thick leather at the neck would hold my head from turning. There was an open mouth, but I could well guess there were attachments yet to be seen.

He put it on me and quickly had it strapped on tight--VERY tight. Now, I was blinded, and would not be able to see the attachments if he chose to try them out.

The first one pressed against my lips demanding entry. I obediently opened my mouth as a rubber cock pushed in. I could hear a bit of the conversation as the man explained how the depth of penetration could be adjusted--and quickly felt the cock move an inch deeper into my mouth, almost deep enough to choke me. There was more conversation, in which I heard the word 'Feeder'. Suddenly, a mouth full of cold water entered thru the business end of the cock-gag. I was forced to swallow it, and one more swallow followed. Yes, it was a feeder gag, and I could well imagine how Master would use it.

I was already sweating inside the helmet when the cock gag was removed. Soon my mouth was pried open yet again by something which forced my teeth apart. I could not close my mouth, and soon another rubber cock began stroking in and out. I heard laughter, and I could see myself at some future gathering kneeling among a group of Master's friends wearing that attachment as their cocks used my mouth at will. Finally, the original cock gag went in again and was once more attached, this time with my jaws already forced open. I moaned, feeling my nipples hard as rocks as I pulled gently against my shackled wrists.

I jumped a bit as I felt my leash being attached, this time to the helmet's collar. Master began to lead me thru the crowded store, and I did my best to follow his leash. Indeed, his lessons on trusting him were coming home here as I steeled myself to be guided by the leash alone. And even more of a trial were the hands that I felt on my body as I was led--Master must gave signaled them to touch me as they wished, as many of them did. I moaned with the humiliation and the arousal it caused me, knowing myself an owned girl being given up to public use.

My top was suddenly pulled aside, and immediately my nipples erupted in pain. I cried out as the new clamps bit in--these were more intense than the ones we normally used. Master had been training me to endure more and more intense clamping on my nipples. These clamps were tight, but they also had sharp edges which made them much more painful. I could feel weights swinging from them as well as I tried not to move, but then a tug on my leash forced me to move, for another tour of the store, complete with the hands of the men there on my body, but this time with my breasts fully exposed and my nipples painfully clamped.

I cried out several minutes later as the clamps were removed, the cry muffled by the cock gag which was still strapped deep in my mouth.

We still were not done. Another quick trip on the leash, and I felt my skirt pulled up and tucked, exposing my pussy. They talked a bit, then I felt Master unlocking the several padlocks which joined the rings on my cuntlips keeping me in chastity. My hopes rose briefly, wondering if he would allow me pleasure here, perhaps as the men in the store watched.

No, that was not to be. I felt some metal being passed thru the cunt rings, then heard the snap of a padlock. The original locks were not replaced, so I knew he had bought something to replace them. There was now a metal object linking the rings, and I felt a round metal surface in direct contact with my clitoris. It wouldn't be enough to bring on an orgasm, but I would never forget it was there. And it was heavy enough for me to feel its weight with my every move.

Suddenly, my gag was removed, and my leash pulled me down to my knees. I heard Master's voice: 'Slut--time to thank the nice man for your new toys.' I then felt a live cock push into my mouth.

The wedges were still there, holding my mouth open. I would not have been able to resist use if I wished to. I still had no idea where we were in the store--we might be in a back room, or for all I knew we might still be in the main store area with an audience of a dozen men watching me suck this cock. He pushed into my throat quickly, using the helmet's straps as hand holds to control my movements. He did not take long to cum--this was for his own pleasure alone, not mine. I swallowed some of his load, but felt some of it drip down onto my exposed breasts. As I cleaned his cock, Master unlocked my helmet and quickly removed it. My sight was back before the cock left my mouth.

I was relieved to find we were indeed in a back room, not in the main store area as I feared. Still, my wrists remained locked behind me and my breasts were still exposed. I was again leashed and led back into the public area, fully exposed, and now with a bit of cum visible on my body, leaving no doubt what happened in the rear of the store.

My wrists were freed, and I was told to cover my breasts, but to do nothing to clean off the cum which remained in sight. I was given the bag to hold--which bore the name of the bondage gear store in big letters on the front--and was led out onto the street again, this time on the leash.

That was another subtlety which had not escaped my notice. Over the long term of my training, many times we took trips to producers of a variety of equipment and toys to be used in my training. Invariably, when we purchased such items, I was always made to carry them myself, bringing the tools of my own torment back to our dungeon. In its own way, it was yet another vehicle thru which I surrendered to my own use and training. I would know that whenever such toys were used on me, I had brought them home myself knowing what they were to be used for. And later, when I was tormented with them, I would remember that I had brought them.

My training was thorough. Some of the subtleties surprised me even months after they had happened, learning only much later what their purpose was. Such was the nature of training from a real Master.

I remembered once months earlier, I had objected to wearing cum on my face in a public area. Master told me he wanted people to know I was a cocksucker. Would I prefer to have a collar locked around my neck for a few weeks that read 'Cocksucker' in big letters, readable from across the street? I smiled and told him 'No, Master, unless it was your pleasure for me to do so. Thank you for letting me wear the cum on my face, and for letting me show people what a cocksucker I am, Master.' He did indeed have the collar--but I am only locked into it for private gatherings, so his friends would remember my name.

The morning over, we returned home for lunch. The afternoon would bring still more adventures...

Copyright 2011
Master Ivan Press

[Gladimeir15]

Can't wait for the next episode...As the slavery keeps going, the pleasure is arousing to the next level...