Milovana.com

THE ENSLAVEMENT OF ELENA


[Author's note: This was the first piece I wrote, and the second (after “Taken”) to be published.]


I first encountered her at one of the private B&D swing clubs that operate in the area. My attendance at these clubs had been getting less frequent as the contacts I had been making had gotten more and more disappointing.

For months, I had been looking for a new slave-girl. Experience was unimportant; attitude, style, appearance, intelligence and imagination were all-important. I tired of the usual club crowd; the places were in a rut: old faces, old attitudes and few moments of excitement. Until she arrived.

She caught my eye immediately. About five feet six inches tall, slight build, probably Southern European extraction, she was quite attractive. Yet, I didn't approach her at first. She seemed reluctant to talk to anyone, and simply observed, quietly. There was clearly a fire in her eyes when she saw a slave being put through an intense ordeal, but I wrote it off to simple titillation; she was too close-minded for my needs. Or, so I thought.

"Ivan?" To my surprise, it was her. She had just watched a female slave being passed through a circle of males for collective punishment. Having been accused by her Master of being a habitual cock-teaser, the slave now sported double dildos locked in place, nipple clamps, a tight forearm sheath, a welted ass and a mouth full of her Master's come. Apparently the European beauty now addressing me was quite fired up by the scene: her eyes were glowing, her skin was lightly covered with sweat, her breathing was hot, and her breasts, which I only now noticed were larger than I thought at first, due to her concealing them under a baggy shirt, sported nipples which were fully erect.

"Yes?" I was abrupt with her, maintaining my dominant demeanor.

"I have been watching you for most of the night. I've been told you are looking for a live-in slave. I like your way of doing things. For hours now, watching the action here, I've been imagining you doing the same things to me, and more. And it's making me hotter than I've ever been."

Listening to her, I was getting turned on myself. It suddenly appeared that this girl might have the potential to train well. But could she take the real thing?

"Do you have any idea what you're talking about?"

"Yes. I haven't been a real slave before, but I've been tied up and spanked, and I always get frustrated when the spankings end too soon! Men treat me with respect, while I want to feel used. They give me affection and apologies when I need to be controlled and punished. Why are they so afraid?"

An interesting, if common, question. But she was getting very emotional, almost to the point of tears. She continued...

"They always think I'm so delicate, so fragile. When I tell them what I want, they think I'm crazy..."

"You're not crazy. And you're not fragile or delicate. In fact, you'd be surprised how strong you could be under the right circumstances."

"What circumstances? Are you talking about enslavement?"

"Are you?"

For the first time, she hesitated. She paused several seconds and considered the question, significant now in its current context. Eventually, she looked me in the eye and said, "I think I want to be your slave. I don't really know if I can take it, but I know if I have an easy way out, I won't know for sure. It has to be real. And I don't know how you'll use me or train me. But that's not my decision, anyway, is it?"

Clearly, she was deciding. Or trying to get me to decide for her. She obviously wasn't concerned about the details of her future experiences. She told me she traveled light, had most of her belongings with her and could move in twenty-four hours. She had no family. I decided to press the decision to her immediately.

"If you wish to be my slave, I will take you home tonight. You can get your things and move in tomorrow. But it will be harder than you can imagine. Are you ready for this?"

"Yes. I've been ready for years."

"Then remove your panties."

We were in a less-than-deserted room, but admittedly there were a couple of nude slaves present, which made her actions less out of place. As she removed the panties, I withdrew a thick, oiled leather thong from my back pocket.

She handed me the panties, her hands trembling. I took them and examined them, finding them to be soaking wet. I placed them in my pocket.

"Kneel."

Slowly, her eyes never leaving mine, she dropped to her knees. Her hands remained at her sides, and I was pleased to see her knees separated by several inches. Nevertheless...

"Spread your knees wider, and cross your wrists behind you!" I spoke more harshly this time, and she complied instantly.

"Do you want to become my slave?"

"Yes, Master. Please." I was happy to see how naturally the words rolled off her lips.

"I don't believe you. Beg me to test you with half a dozen strokes of my leather." As I spoke, I tapped the now-folded thong meaningfully against my thigh.

"Please, Master, test me with half a dozen strokes of your leather, or more if it pleases you."

"Remain kneeling. Turn around, place your right cheek to the floor, raise your skirt, and thrust your wrists between your knees."

She assumed the correct position quickly. I observed her closely. Her ass was tender, and clearly untested. Her pussy was obviously dripping--the experience was turning her on tremendously. We would soon see what effect some pain would have on this. I paced a circle around her slowly, letting her anticipation build. Her eyes followed me closely while I was in her field of vision, but she did not break position. Several other pairs of eyes also enjoyed the sight, and she was fully aware of this.

With no warning, I brought the leather down hard on her ass, bringing forth a brief scream. I watched the welt rise quickly--she would mark well--but again, she held position. Giving her only two or three seconds between strokes, I gave her the promised half dozen, and four more besides. Although number seven did startle her, she limited her movements to trembling and groaning.

When finished, I circled her again slowly, enjoying her moaning and hard breathing as well as her now glowing ass. Standing again behind her, I told her to rise to her knees facing me.

"Thank me for your whipping!" I let her decide how.

She kissed the leather as well as the hand holding it, quite passionately. "Thank you, Master, for punishing this undeserving slave." Seconds later, she looked up at me with the eyes of a slave in heat, and exclaimed, "That whipping, it was the most exciting thing I've ever experienced!" She then dropped to my feet, kissing my boots, and begged, "Please, Master, take me as your slave girl, use me any way you want!"

I took her hair in my hand and drew her to her knees again.

"Submit your wrists for binding!"

She extended her crossed wrists, and I quickly and tightly bound them with the thong, leaving half its length still available.

"Open your mouth to be gagged!"

She did.

"Spread your knees!"

From six inches, she separated them to well over a foot apart. I then took her panties and thoroughly wiped her sopping wet pussy until the panties themselves were soaked. I stuffed them forcefully into her mouth. I brought her bound wrists upward and behind her neck, then passed the remainder of the thong twice around her head, tying in her wet panty gag. I thought briefly of fucking her throat, but decided to save that until later. There would be time. But there were a couple more details left to complete the picture.

"You've been punished. Your welted ass must be displayed so others will know you've displeased me." I then lifted the back of her skirt and tucked it in, leaving her freshly rising welts exposed nicely. I next took out a small knife, and began cutting the buttons off her shirt.

''Look around you, slut. Do you see the other slave girls? Do they dare to cover as much of their tits as you do? As a slave, you no longer have that privilege, either." With the buttons removed, she spent a moment with her breasts fully exposed to view by our small audience. I tore off several inches of the fabric from the bottom of the shirt and ties the corners together between her now jutting breasts. I found the effect quite stimulating.

"Now stand, slave! Let everyone see who and what you really are. Spread your legs. Further! You are now a slave, you are here solely to please me and anyone else I wish you to please. You are on display as my newly won prize, and will hold that position until I command otherwise!"

For the next half hour or so, I did not say a word to her. Sometimes I just sat and stared, gloating obviously for her benefit. At other times, I conversed with other people, seemingly ignoring her except for some lewd comments I would make about her. Once, I even left the room for a refill of my drink, but kept her carefully in view. She did not break position.

Although my performance with this new slave drew some attention, people were starting to think about leaving. I had considered staying late, but now had some very challenging chores to perform with my new acquisition.

I untied the thong which gagged my slave and removed the panties from her mouth. Handing them to her, I instructed her to throw them in the fireplace, where there was a low fire burning. "It will be some time before you'll be permitted panties again." Leaving her skirt raised and her hands still bound before her, I had her kneel again. Taking up the loose end of the thong as a slave-lead, I brought her, crawling on her knees, to where our host, Master (---), was bidding goodnight to some of his departing guests.

"I want to express my appreciation", I told him, "For a wonderful evening. I hope this pig with me has enjoyed herself as well." Turning toward her, I asked harshly, "Have you, pig?"

"Very much, Masters."

I had our host step between her bound arms, so that as she kneeled, her wrists were now joined behind his knees.

"I don't suppose you could find an appropriate way to thank such a kind and generous Master as our host for such an enjoyable evening?"

She looked up at us, not totally sure what we had in mind, until, catching the drift, our host withdrew his cock and pointed it at her mouth.

Elena was mortified, since guests were still leaving, even shaking his hand as they left. Nevertheless, she obediently opened her mouth and, on her first stroke, took him deep into her throat.

From the look on his face, she was indeed a skilled cocksucker. She stole glances at both of us as she sucked, very concerned about our approval. Checking my watch, I told her, "Get him off in five minutes, or your shirt will join your panties on the fire!"

Now she looked truly concerned. Although submission like this turned her on tremendously, she was clearly embarrassed by having to expose her body. She knew that whether I was pleased with her or not, she would be at my mercy when she had to return to her home the following day. She had not brought a change of clothing. Our host gave me a knowing smile. Having seen him in action a number of times, I knew he had the willpower to hold off for the full five minutes and more. The guests continued to file out, making thanks to him and appropriately lewd comments about the slut who was sucking him off madly.

At about the five and a half minute mark, I gave him a subtle look and pointed at my watch. With a smile and a nod, he grabbed her roughly by the hair in both hands and rammed deeply into her throat. When he came, seconds later, I was pleased to find she swallowed every drop. She did not gag, either, and from the approving look on his face, I could tell our host found her fully qualified as an expert cocksucker.

Nevertheless, I had promised a punishment. I freed her hands, turned her towards me and said, "You've failed. By almost a full minute! You remember what I said about your shirt, don't you? Beg me now for your punishment!"

"I'm sorry, Masters, I wasn't a good enough cocksucker. I don't deserve the privilege of wearing a shirt. Please punish me as you see fit."

She was truly absorbed in her role, now. She trembled visibly as she spoke, yet she was so deep in her slave heat that I believe one touch on her clitoris would have her coming.

"Remove your shirt!" She obeyed, trembling in fear and excitement as she did so. Here was a bridge to be burnt behind her.

"Tear it in half!" As she did so, a subtle change came over her: her shoulders drew back slightly, bringing her now naked breasts into greater prominence. As she now truly committed herself to each stage of submission, her fears and reflexes were leaving her in like manner.

"Now crawl over to the fire and burn it!" The look on her face was almost trance-like, now. There was the overt, humiliated and punished slave. Beneath that, there was almost a smile of satisfaction, of a newly-won victory. At the fire, she gave me a brief, pleading look. I simply looked back sternly, and pointed to the fire. She threw in the shirt, and almost smiled to see it consumed in the flames, almost like an old enemy. She glanced at me briefly, with a tear in her eye, but also with a hint of newly discovered slave-pride.

I pointed to my feet and snapped my fingers. She quickly crawled to me. I told her, "You are a slave now. You no longer have a shirt." She dropped her face to my feet and began kissing them energetically. Looking up at me, finally, crying now, but with a wide smile on her face, she said, "Thank you, Master! Please, don't ever free me!"

I returned her smile, and said, "Do you have my permission to wear that skirt?"

"No, Master."

"Burn it!"

She rose to her feet only long enough to remove it, then returned to her knees. She crawled, now naked and fully exposed to the enthralled gaze of the remaining guests, to the fireplace, and threw her last garment into the flames. Without waiting to watch it burn as she did with her shirt, she returned to me immediately, still on her knees, this time with a clear, proud smile. Enslaved, yet seemingly free for the first time in her life.

"Turn around, and submit your wrists for binding!"

Having her wrists bound behind her jolted her somewhat, her nakedness before onlookers was still a new experience. But the thrill was still evident. I crossed her wrists, rather than placing them palm-to-palm, as I did not want her covering her welted ass. As I bound her, I noticed her openly surveying the guests still remaining in the room, now watching her intently. Without warning, I thrust a finger into her now-flooded pussy, removed it, and inserted it fully into her ass. Her sudden, loud groan was so pronounced, it not only brought smiles to our audience, but brought in a couple more observers from the next room.

"How does it feel, slave, to be bound naked before an audience and finger-fucked up the ass?"

"Oh... I love it, Master!"

"Do you know that if you come without permission, slut, that you will be punished severely, right in front of these people?"

"Yes, Master. Please..."

"'Please what? Do you beg permission to come like a pig in front of these nice people?"

"Yes, Master."

"Then ask me properly!"

After a pause of only a few seconds, "Please, Master, permit your slave to come like a pig in front of these people."

I continued to stroke my finger in and out of her ass for a moment longer. Then, I increased the strength and depth of the stroking to the max, and said, "Come now, pig!"

She moaned so loudly going into orgasm, I thought she'd wake the neighborhood. When it really hit her, she collapsed to the floor. I followed her down, and shoved three fingers of my other hand into her pussy. She screamed, came, came again and nearly passed out! I withdrew my hands as the audience actually applauded.

Moments later, she opened her eyes to find me seated next to her. She rose to her knees again, and crawled to my feet.

"Thank you, Master, for allowing me to have an orgasm. It was the most intense one I have ever had!" I smiled gently at her and said, "Open your mouth." She did.

"Now, clean me!" I thrust the finger which had been in her ass into her mouth. As she licked and sucked it, I wiped the fingers of my other hand, still wet with her pussy juices, on her face, especially under her nose, to play back her own scent to her. When she finished cleaning the first hand, I replaced it with the other one.

"Do you enjoy the taste of your ass and pussy?"

She didn't know if she should stop to respond, so I withdrew my now clean second hand.

She answered, "It's confusing, Master. Just the taste alone makes me feel humiliated. But doing it under your command, and in front of people, it turns me on tremendously, I don't know why."

"Good, slave. You now have your first three rules: You will never cover your body without my permission. You'll never come without my permission. And whenever I cause anything to be placed in your cunt or ass, whether it might be a finger, a cock or a dildo, you will clean it with your mouth when it is removed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"Rise to your feet and follow me."

I made my goodbyes to guests and host, and made arrangements to transport my slave home. I considered placing her naked and bound in my trunk, but decided it would be safer having her in the front seat with me for the trip. So I borrowed a light trench coat from the host. I left her hands bound behind her and draped the coat across her shoulders. I did not button it, but closed it with the waist-belt. I found the results pleasing: it exposed the curve of her breasts, and the resultant V-neck split nearly down to her navel.

I took the small purse she had brought with her and locked that in the trunk. I seated her in the front seat, got in, and started the car. As it warmed up, I considered adding a mystery to her already excited state by blindfolding her and not permitting her to see where I lived. Then a better idea hit me--I withdrew my cock and, by the hair, pulled her mouth down on it.

"You will suck my cock until we arrive home. I do not wish to come during the trip. If you make me come, or if my cock leaves your mouth without my permission, you'll ride in the trunk and be severely punished." Something told me I would not have to carry out the threats. I was correct.

We were home within the hour. My cock was still hard and filled her mouth. She proved to be quite sensitive--when my orgasm approached, she sensed it easily, and knew exactly how to back off. I intended to continue holding off until I initiated her fully in my dungeon.

Parking the car, I escorted her through the door. Inside was a small mirrored alcove with another open doorway leading to the living room and beyond. I removed the coat covering her and allowed her to view her again-naked and still-bound body in the mirrors.

"When you enter here, you leave behind your illusions of freedom, remove your clothes, and put on only what I permit you to wear. In this drawer, there will be any clothing or disciplinary items I wish you to wear. That small box in the corner will be used to deposit any clothes you wear on the outside. Lock it when you're done." To demonstrate, I placed the coat in the box and locked it.

I released her hands and had her follow me crawling on all fours through the living room and eventually down the stairs to the dungeon.

At one side of the dungeon was a small workbench I used to fabricate much of my bondage gear. I already had a number of leather collars I was working on and nearly finished. I chose one of black oiled leather, two inches wide, with several D-rings around its circumference, and buckled it around her neck.

"I take you as my slave'"

Working rapidly, I attached matching cuffs to her wrists and ankles. Finally, I padlocked her wristcuffs behind her. Again, I brought her to her knees.

"You are now my property. You have nothing, not even a name, unless I allow you to use one. Even then, it will be a slave name. It pleases me for the moment to call you the slave 'Elena'. I may also, from time to time, call you 'Cunt', 'Pig', 'Cocksucker', or whatever else might occur to me. Say your slave name!"

"I am the slave Elena."

"Your first duty is to please me. When you are allowed clothes, they shall be clothes which display your body in ways I find pleasing. A slave's clothing always displays her rather than cover her. If you cover your body beyond what I permit, you will be punished.

"You will be responsible for cleaning my house, cooking my meals, washing my clothes, and whatever other chores I assign to you. At times, I may assign you a meaningless job, simply so I can watch you labor. I may also give you an assignment which is difficult, or even impossible, so I can watch you struggle with it and then punish you for failure.

"You will, of course, be required to please me sexually, in any manner I choose. You will be trained at this thoroughly as time passes, and you will learn to enjoy this more than any service you perform. That training will begin now."

I put her on a short chain leash, about a foot long, and brought her on her knees to a section of the dungeon with a wooden floor. I took a short pole, about three feet long, and attached it upright to the floor in a receptacle provided for it. Her collar was then attached to an eyebolt at the top of the pole. I completed her bondage with a spreader bar between her knees, which opened her completely. The mirrored wall a few feet away made sure she would watch herself in her ordeal.

As an afterthought, I also took a buckle strap and fastened it around her elbows. Standing behind her and sharing her view of the results, it pleased me greatly. Her breasts were thrust out blatantly and invitingly, almost begging for the abuse that would soon be given to them. Her pussy was wide open, her clitoris prominently visible. She was the perfect picture of lust personified, waiting to be used.

I stood in front of her, withdrew my cock, and said, "Now, slave, suck off your new Master!" She opened her mouth instantly and practically lunged at my cock, even before I wrapped my hands in her hair. But with her collar connected to the top of the pole, she had only a few inches of play with which to stroke me off.

After the evening's stimulation, I was long overdue for satisfaction. I used her mouth forcefully, unmindful of her discomfort. She moaned sensuously throughout, almost as if I was fucking one of her other openings. My orgasm came quickly, and I made sure to withdraw for part of it so I could spray my come on her face and breasts as well as in her mouth.

As I placed my now-softening cock back in her mouth to be cleaned, I watched her eyes as she herself watched her performance in the mirror. Realizing her humiliation, she nevertheless reveled in it, proud of her achievement.

"Please, Master"', she moaned, barely audibly, as my cock left her mouth.

"What, cunt?"

"I, uh, your slave needs to come."

"I will permit it, but there will be a price to pay in pain!"

"Yes Master, please, I will pay the price."

From a small shelf, I took a pair of wooden clothespins, and stood in front of her with them.

"Beg me for the pain!"

"Please, Master, put the clothespins on my breasts!"

I did so slowly, allowing both of us to relish the moment. The intensity of the pain surprised her somewhat, as her face showed, yet she rotated slightly offering me the second breast after the first was clamped. A deep moan escaped her lips as the other clamp was applied, and she moaned yet again seeing her image in the mirror.

Inside a drawer I located a fairly large double dildo. It had a two-inch wide shaft meant for her cunt and a one-and-one-half inch mate for her ass. The available length was in excess of ten inches on both, and it plugged into the floor.

Her eyes widened when she saw it. I brought each shaft to her lips in turn, and told her to lubricate them by sucking briefly. Finally, I brought the arrangement under her, inserted it into her cunt and ass, and set the base into the floor.

The moans and cries she released made me glad I had no close neighbors! When she rose as high as her restraints permitted, she still had two or three inches or so inside her. When she dropped down fully, she buried both shafts completely! I could tell it was painful for her, yet she gloried in her pain. Her juices ran liberally down the larger shaft, and she quickly approached orgasm. I picked up a cat-o-nine-tails and stood behind her.

"Come now, pig!" And I brought the cat down hard on her ass, adding some new welts to the stripes already adorning her flesh. She screamed loudly, in both pain and pleasure, as the strokes helped push her over the edge into ecstasy. Four, five, six strokes I gave her, until she expended herself.

Her body was drenched in sweat; she quietly moaned, regaining her breath. Her eyes were closed, her head hung down. Although she was calm, she still rocked gently on the two dildos, which were still completely buried within her. The clothespins remained clamped to her nipples, and my come was still visible, drying on her face and chest. I continued to watch her, enjoying her reactions, allowing her several more minutes to regain her composure. As I did so, I touched a hidden switch on the wall, activating a concealed audio/visual monitoring system, so I could watch her from the rest of the house. She finally opened her eyes and looked at me.

"Are you enjoying your enslavement?"

"Oh, yes, Master. Not enjoying, exactly; I'm still in pain. I don't know how to express it, but I feel fulfilled." She was clearly tired, but her work was not yet done.

I told her, "Watch yourself in the mirror--you will repeat the phrase 'I am a slave-girl' until I tell you otherwise."

She began. "I am a slave-girl. I am a slave-girl..."

"You are collared to keep you submissive. You are bound to hold you in an appropriate posture for your slave training. Your breasts and pussy are on display in a manner which attracts your Master's attention and invites use and punishment. Your holes are filled to remind you of your status and your vulnerability and to keep you aroused. Your tits will remain clamped to remind you you are helpless to stop any pain I choose to give you. And it is my whim to train you in this manner. Do not stop your phrase, and make no attempt to otherwise break position until I return, or you will be punished."

As she continued, "I am a slave-girl. I am a slave-girl...", I casually left the room. I got a cold drink and a sandwich in the kitchen, and relaxed into my favorite living-room armchair. Turning on the TV, I switched on the monitor.

"I am a slave-girl. I am a slave-girl. I am a slave-girl..."

At one point, some ten minutes into the exercise, she stopped briefly, and shook her head. I enjoyed seeing her clothespins shake back and forth as she did so, and even more enjoyed the grimace on her face as she reacted to the resultant pain. I wrote down the time as she resumed the phrase.

Some time later, I noticed her rocking starting to increase on her dildos. She soon started pumping up and down on them in earnest. A short time later, she had another shattering orgasm. Again, her phrase was lost on her as she came, replaced with loud groans and cries. As we were about twenty-five minutes into the exercise, I returned to her for some brief reinforcement.

As I entered the dungeon again, she stopped only for an instant to look at me. Seeing the displeased look on my face, she immediately brought her eyes back to the mirror and resumed her phrase.

"Do not break position again, slave, and do not even think about stopping your repetitions. You did so twice while I was gone and a third time now! You will continue while being punished."

I went to the wall rack and chose a rattan cane.

Now, her eyes shone with fear. And she started her vertical motion again on the dildos. Standing behind her, I gave her fifteen strokes. She screamed, but continued the phrase. As the caning proceeded, her dildo pumping increased, and I again saw the juices flowing. Through her now tear-filled eyes, she saw all of it. Done with the cane, I returned it to its hook as she whimpered and continued her mantra. She observed me then standing before her as she recited, thinking her punishment was over.

"Clearly, you need a reminder of my power, even in my absence." Then, I quickly added a two-ounce weight to each of her clothespins.

She winced and inhaled sharply as the pain in her nipples was reawakened and intensified. I was pleased with the picture: now, rather than sticking out straight from her nipples, the clothespins hung at a forty-five degree angle and pulled her entire breasts down beautifully. Saying no more, I left the room again.

Watching her again on the monitor, from my armchair, I was curious at some of her changes. At first, she cried some, I assume from her pain. A bit later, her face looked almost defiant. Not to me, but to herself! She was actually challenging her own rebellious urges. Her repetitions became louder and more assertive. On each phrase, she started to bounce on the dildos, forcing them into her openings deeper than I thought possible. Her breasts also bounced freely, swinging the heavy weights wildly from the clamps. I was surprised she didn't knock them off! (Of course, she would have to be punished if she did, probably with more time and double the weight.)

Toward the end of the planned hour, she approached another orgasm. I decided I wanted to watch it in person, so I returned to the dungeon.

When I arrived, she was indeed quite close. She did not break position, continuing to watch herself in the mirror. Her phrase repetitions also continued, although her volume and intensity betrayed her rising sexual excitement. Finally, at about a minute before her hour was to end, she came. Still, her mantra did not stop! She yelled it, screamed it for the whole world to hear, almost as if her mouth and lungs were having the orgasm. But she made it through.

At the end of the hour, and at the end of her orgasm, I stood before her and said, "You may stop."

She responded, "Please, Master, never free me!"

"Do you enjoy the pain?"

"Not enjoy, actually. I really do suffer. But it makes things real. It makes my submission real, it proves to me that you own me and control me. It makes me feel secure."

I considered her answer carefully, while enjoying the sight of her tortured breasts. Gently, I took the weights, one in each hand, and pulled back on them, at an angle which somewhat raised and separated her breasts. She winced, but did not move.

"It is time for these to be removed. They will hurt more when being removed than they do when you wear them. Do you welcome this pain?"

She looked down at her breasts, and at my hands, visibly afraid. Then she looked at me with that strange cross between assertion and submission which made me feel fulfilled to be her new owner.

"Anything that comes from you, Master, whether it is pleasure or pain, I welcome."

Looking straight into my eyes, she began to slowly pull back against the clamps, shaking with the pain, until both clamps pulled off her nipples. She screamed as the first one went, continued pulling until the second popped off, and screamed again. Then, she smiled sweetly, and said, "Thank you for punishing me, Master."

I smiled back at her, approving greatly of her performance. She was drenched in sweat, face and breasts still spotted with my drying come, painfully bound, spread wide open, and penetrated fore and aft. She probably would continue to endure whatever abuse I cared to hand her, but she was obviously exhausted. I wanted to conserve both her strength and mine for what I knew would be another full day for both of us.

I released her leg bonds, as well as her elbows and wrists. I rejoined her wrists in front of her, then detached her collar from its anchor on the upright. Slowly, I helped her to rise from the double dildos. She moaned deeply as they popped out of her openings, but the moan was not so much one of pain as it was a parting from close friends.

She made as if to approach me with a kiss, but stopped herself in time.

"Have you forgotten the rules I gave you earlier?"

She blanched briefly, then looked down at the two dildos, now bearing various substances from her two openings. "No, Master."

She knelt, and placed her mouth first on the anal dildo. There were visible brown stains over its entire length. She sucked and licked it thoroughly until it was quite clean. The dildo from her cunt took a bit longer. Because of its size, she could not take as much of it into her mouth, so she had to lick most of it. When I was satisfied with her cleaning, I removed the assembly, handed it to her and directed her to the sink along one wall where she thoroughly washed and dried it. Without having to be told, she placed it in the drawer from which I had taken it.

Looking back at me, then glancing at the sink, she asked, "May I wash?"

"No. You will sleep wearing my come tonight and wash in the morning. Use the toilet, then I will put you into your sleeping chains."

She gasped as I mentioned the last item, but followed my orders. After her piss, I noticed she closed her eyes and groaned as she wiped herself. Obviously, she was still hot from the scene.

Placing a finger through a ring on her collar, I pulled her over to the portion of the dungeon finished in rough stone. There was a heavy two-foot chain connected to a large eyebolt in the middle of the floor. After having her kneel, I locked the free end of the chain to the rearmost ring on her collar.

"Master, is this where your slave-girl sleeps?"

"Yes, until her training progresses to the point where she earns better. Would an untrained suck-slave, on her first day of training, be so arrogant as to expect a mat next to her Master's bed? Or, perhaps she wants to share that bed?"

"No, Master. Please forgive me."

I held her to me gently, caressing her. At first, she raised her hands as if to return my caresses, but, realizing them chained, simply nuzzled me with her cheek.

I reached down to where some of my come was visible on her nipple. With a finger, I wiped it off and brought the finger to her lips. She licked, kissed and sucked it, sensuously, until I removed it. Again, I reached down, this time to her pussy, where the juices were already starting to flow again. I pushed two fingers inside her, and stroked up the entire length of her slit, bringing forth a very nice moan from her. This time, I smeared the juice around her mouth and nose, before having her lick the fingers clean, to play back her odor and taste to her. She was getting very hot again. I started stroking her clitoris with the toe of my boot. Immediately, she spread her legs wide, closed her eyes, laid back on the stone floor, and began to moan loudly. I watched her closely, waiting for her now-close orgasm to build. Just before she climaxed, I stopped.

She looked back at me, horrified. "Master, please!"

Quickly, I grabbed a six-inch length of chain and two padlocks, and connected her already-shackled wrists to the front of her collar. She continued to look at me, almost in tears, wondering if I would allow her to come. I spoke to her again.

"A slave-girl's function is to please her Master. A slave-girl does not come without her Master's permission." Grabbing her hair, I drew her face down to my boot, now coated with her flow. "You may, however, lick your pussy-juice off of your Master's nice, clean boot!" She complied, and continued licking long after the boot was cleaned. Eventually, I drew her back up, by her hair again, and said, "You also have permission to play with your tits."

She obeyed most enthusiastically, quickly bringing frustrated moans to her lips.

"Remember, slave: Your body is no longer yours; it belongs to me. You will not be allowed to wallow in your own pleasure--that sort of activity you do only by my command and for my pleasure. You may play with your tits tonight as much as you want, but your pussy you shall not touch; it is no longer yours.

"Goodnight, my slave. Enjoy your enslavement!"

I turned to a table in the middle of the room and lit a tall candle. I then turned out all the other lights in the room. Alone, the candle flame cast an eerie glow throughout the dungeon. Clearly, naked on the bare stones, she would feel as much a slave as if she were chained in the deepest stone dungeon of the dark ages.

I cast her a final, stern look as I opened the heavy wooden door, preparing to exit. She pleaded with me with tear-filled eyes, clearly wishing I would suddenly return and subject her to a full-fledged slave-rape. She still played with both her nipples, energetically, almost as if that would bring her the last orgasm she so desperately craved.

I turned, walked through the door, and slammed it shut, locking it.

She responded with a loud crying moan, so piteous sounding that it almost made me rush back through the door again.

In my bedroom, I turned on the monitor system again.

Watching her moan, writhing naked and chained on the stone floor in the supreme frustration of sexual denial, I quickly became aroused.

I began to masturbate...


Copyright © 1991

Master Ivan