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The Four Rooms

by Master Ivan

I am a slave. I have been the property of my Master for just over seven years. I seem to recall his first name as being Edward, but since I would be severely punished if his name crossed my lips, I have no need to call him anything but Master. His last name I have never even heard. My entire life is now devoted to him and his pleasure, and I would not dream of having it any other way. My world and my universe, with rare exceptions, consist of the four rooms.

Since the story encompasses a great deal of time, it would be impossible for me to relate each and every detail. The beginning, however, was simply a dinner date with a gentleman who allowed me to feel easy exploring my darker fantasies.

We talked for hours, starting at the restaurant, continuing at an intimate pub and finishing near dawn in his car at my front door. He allowed me to discover and confront my most hidden dreams, my deepest and darkest secrets, my most personal fantasies. He enabled me to discover myself in all my submissive glory.

We continued to meet for weeks before he took me home with him. By that time, I was well aware of wanting him sexually, desperately needing to fulfill what was an obvious need for both of us. I could not understand at that early date why he hesitated. Now, I understand. He wanted far more than my body. When I was ready to meet him on his own terms, he showed me the first of the four rooms.

It was simply his bedroom. By the time I was allowed to see it for the first time, I had already gone through substantial changes. I was obeying him implicitly in many mundane ways; I was surrendering control on every level, and I was beginning to see him as far more than a lover, long before he used my body. When I saw his bedroom for the first time, I already felt like I stood before a King, subject to any of his commands, wanting more than anything else to please him. I saw the bed itself as a sacrificial altar dedicated to his happiness, and I saw his happiness as the one true source of my fulfillment.

The bed was well-equipped for his pleasure. It had many hidden features which allowed a woman to be positioned for his convenience, including numerous eyebolts, concealed stocks at both the head and foot of the bed frame, even a motorized winch above the center of the bed.

Ten minutes after I entered his house, I was naked. Shortly thereafter, my wrists were locked behind my back with a set of chrome plated handcuffs. That night, he used my mouth first, forcing me to suck him to orgasm. After some other games which seem tame by later standards, he spanked me severely with his bare hand, bound me spread-eagled to his bed, then fucked my cunt.

When he finally entered me, I felt like I had entered paradise. Afterwards, he left me bound, caressing me for awhile before leaving the room to deal with some unrelated matters. He fed me a late-night snack, then used my mouth again while I remained bound as he had left me. For the first time, I experienced the torture of denial at his hands as he went to sleep leaving me hungry for him, but granting me only the taste of his cock in my mouth to keep me company.

That morning, he used me yet again, starting in my mouth, but finishing in my cunt. After a night of frustration, I found the resulting pleasure far beyond anything I had even thought possible. When he finally released my roped limbs, it was an anticlimax.

For several weeks, I visited him regularly, spending most nights bound and at his mercy. After perhaps the third or fourth night, he no longer allowed me to share his bed, but handcuffed my hands behind me and, using a collar and a very short chain, attached me to the foot post of the bed to get what sleep I could on the bare hardwood floor. Did I feel abused by his harsh treatment? Far from it. Each time I struggled against his bonds, or suffered the pain of his spankings, or endured his hands pulling my hair as he forced his sizable cock down my throat, or experienced a night of denial when I would serve him with my mouth alone, I felt like I was advancing along an exotic path, a path which fulfilled my dreams, yet one which I could never walk alone.

Eventually, I moved in with him. I had few possessions, and most of those were abandoned. My wardrobe also underwent some significant reductions in those early days. He made it clear to me that he would be in control of how I covered my body, and with what. Soon, I owned no clothes which would either overly conceal my most erotic features or prevent him from gaining nearly instant access to whatever parts of me he desired.

My desire for him grew daily. Sleeping at the foot of his bed, I would sometimes moan in my frustration, my need for him growing with my every breath. Eventually, he made it clear that his slave would not be allowed to disturb his sleep, and he would take steps to control that problem.

It was then that he introduced me to the second room.

In the living room was a panel some eight feet long covering a blank space of wall at one end of the room. As I knelt, naked and handcuffed at one side, he removed the panel and revealed what could only be described as a jail cell. Its walls and floor were rough cut stone, and it was separated from the rest of the living room by bars. There were numerous rings present to which I could be fastened, and a low wooden bench which would be my only bed. That first time, he kept my wrists locked behind my back and attached a chain between my collar and one wall to further secure me. I could stand, kneel or lie down on the bench, but that was the extent of my freedom. I was left in the cell for twenty-four hours, interrupted only by two meals which he fed to me, and two other visits which he made to have me suck him to orgasm.

From that day forward, I slept in the cell nearly every night, chained at least to the extent I experienced that first night. On occasion, he would bind me to his bed while he took his pleasure with me, but he would almost always move me back to the cell when he finished. Only on rare occasions would I be allowed to share his bed, bound to it as I was that first night. I quickly began to value every moment I was allowed to even enjoy his presence, and I found the most torturous part of my nightly incarceration was my longing to have him near me, even if he gave me only pain.

There was structure inherent in everything we did together. I only learned about it through the experience as I lived it, but it was clear that I was being trained. Beyond my enforced nudity, my surrendering my body on command, my dressing only according to his severe limitations and my total sexual availability to him, there were other codes of conduct imposed upon me over time. My ability to obey him in all these details was limited; eventually, I began to incur punishments that went beyond simply spanking, denial, confinement or being chained. My growing need for punishment soon led to my introduction to the third room.

My first punishment came when Master was fondling my breasts one evening. My wrists were unconfined, but I was under orders to keep them crossed behind me as if bound. Master had been training me for some time to increase my tolerance for pain, and he had grown fond of squeezing and pinching my nipples. On one occasion, I reacted badly, and I had the audacity to actually pull my nipple away from his hand. He frowned at me, displeased, and said, "You've earned a serious punishment. Follow me, on all fours!"

His words sent a major thrill through my body, as I both felt his irresistible control coming to bear on me and began to fantasize what he might do to me as a serious punishment. I crawled behind him, at his heel, as he led me to his basement for the first time and introduced me to the third room.

The door was heavy, thick hardwood, designed to resist the use of force to open it. The key was a large cast-iron antique, appropriate for a dungeon such as this. As the door slowly creaked open, I saw for the first time just how much equipment the room contained, and how many ways there were to correct an errant slave-girl.

It was essentially a torture chamber. Its clear, sole purpose was to cause me discomfort and pain. It included the standard equipment one would expect in such places: a pillory, a set of stocks, several small cages, a whipping post, even a fully functional rack, modified for his own tastes. There were whips, of course; dozens of them, covering a good part of one wall, alongside numerous clamps, gags, ropes, chains and a great deal of more specialized leather, rubber, steel and wooden apparatus whose function would remain a mystery to me until it was used upon my helpless flesh.

He stood me in the center of the room, under both a spotlight and a winch. Moments later, he had attached leather shackles to my wrists and ankles, as well as locking a very large and heavy leather collar around my neck. He then attached my wrists to a ring at the back of my collar, causing me to thrust my breasts out wantonly. He caressed them gently, saying, "So, you would dare to deny me the use of my property? Soon, you will regret resisting my touch, and you will learn in no uncertain terms just who these tits belong to..."

He brought out a wooden pole, about three feet long and several inches thick. Releasing my wrists briefly, he placed the pole at the small of my back and brought my arms behind it, then forward to my front. By using a strap to connect the rings of my wrist shackles, he drew my wrists together severely, causing the pole to press painfully into my back as my tits were thrust forward. Now, my chest was completely available to him; I could do nothing to protect my breasts.

My restraint was far from complete. He lowered the winch, passing its rope through the rearmost ring of my collar before attaching it to another ring at the center of the pole at my back. When he raised the winch again, the pole was pulled up against my arms and back, severely increasing both my discomfort and the exposure of my breasts. Worse, with the rope going through the collar ring, the movements of my head were dramatically restricted. Finally, he separated my ankles perhaps three feet, lowering my body still more against its already painful bondage, and attached their shackles to the floor.

He stood before me, looking into my eyes. He took a firm grip on my breasts, one in each hand, and demanded, "Who do these belong to, slut?"

I shuddered in both arousal and fear, and answered, "To you, Master."

"And if they belong to me, I have the right to look at them, to caress them, or to torture them, as it pleases me, right?"

"Yes, Master."

"And yet, you thought to deny me the use of them, didn't you!"

I was fully absorbed in my role. I felt guilty for denying him his rights as my owner and Master, and I genuinely desired his punishment.

"Please Master, punish your selfish slave."

He went to the wall which held his leather. He selected a whip designed for the punishment of the female breast, one with half a dozen supple leather tails about eight inches long, connected to a stiff leather-covered wooden handle another foot in length. Returning to my already tortured body, he spoke again: "Perhaps after a few welts have risen on those tits, you would find yourself more receptive to my hands!"

He swung the whip. It impacted diagonally across my left breast, shocking me with the resultant pain. I screamed instantly, as my body reacted by trying to pull away. I succeeded in only moving a couple of inches as I struggled painfully against my bonds. I was truly helpless, at his complete mercy. And he currently was in no mood to be merciful.

I suffered a full dozen strokes, equally divided between my tits. By the time I realized my first breast-whipping had ended, he had already hung up the whip and was returning to me holding some ominous metal objects in his hand.

"You have hopefully learned by now that the touch of my hands on your tits is infinitely preferable to the touch of my whip. Now, you will begin a lesson which will result in your being able to beg for the whip, and never resist my hands again!"

I shook in fear, anticipating more pain as his hand approached my breast holding the innocent-looking clamp. As it closed upon my nipple, I was instantly flooded with new, non-stop agony. I moaned long and hard with the pain, and moaned even deeper as the matching clamp closed upon my other nipple. I shuddered, causing the chain connecting the two clamps to swing, increasing the pain even further. Thinking the process done, I looked in horror as his hand approached yet again, this time holding a pair of small weights which he proceeded to hang from the chain.

As he released the weights, the chain pulled my nipples down perhaps two inches, easily doubling the pain of the clamps. A tear fell from my eye, as I looked at him, almost ready now to beg for more of the whip if he would only remove the clamps. I could only say, "Please Master, mercy!"

He was unmoved by my plea. He answered only, "You are a slave in punishment. Be careful not to earn more punishment before your ordeal ends."

With that, he left the dungeon.

As he slammed the door closed, I began to cry. Now, I was not only being tortured, by the weighted clamps, the strenuous bondage position and my newly welted breasts, but my Master had left me to suffer alone. Indeed, I did suffer, as every time a sob caused my body to shudder in its painful bonds, the weights hanging from the clamps would begin to swing, constantly renewing my torture. Beyond that, my arms, shoulders and back were in substantial pain from the pole, and my feet and lower legs, bound wide open, ached severely from trying to support a small portion of my weight on my toes. Worst of all, though, was the fact that my Master was not there with me to enjoy my suffering.

Half an hour went by, a half hour that felt like a week of longing and pain. Master did return, at which point I cried tears of both pain and joy. Now, he would release me, use me and fulfill my need.

For some reason, though, he did not simply lower the winch and release my bonds, but rather went again to the wall of implements to retrieve something. I dared to speak to him, saying, "Master, please use your punished slave!"

"Silence, cunt! You are a slut in punishment, and have not been permitted to speak!" As he finished his admonishments, and as a tear fell from my eye, he did turn towards me, but with more objects in his hand.

They were another pair of weights for my already tortured nipples. As he hung them from the clamps, I cried out with ever increasing pain. Then, as if things weren't bad enough already, he went to the winch controls and raised my body up another inch.

I cried out, "Master, please!!", but was answered with only the slamming of the door. My arms cried out in agony, and the torture of my nipples rose to yet another level of magnitude. Now, I was beginning to learn. My Master was totally in control, and he would not be swayed with pleas for mercy unless it was his choice to grant such mercy. His demands for my services would not be denied; I was his slave, and slaves have no rights to deny anything of their Masters. Most importantly, it was his desire to punish me. A Master's desire is the rule of law for a slave, and that law is never violated.

By the time another half hour passed and he returned again, I was totally broken. He stood before me, looking into my eyes as well as enjoying the sight of my suffering body. This time, I remembered the protocols, as I said, "Master, may a slave speak?"

"Yes."

"Master, please forgive your rebellious, poorly trained slave, and use her as you wish."

He continued looking into my eyes, exploring, making sure my words were not just a contrivance to gain release. Finally, satisfied at my honesty, he revealed his erect cock and moved behind me.

I shuddered in fear, knowing that he had only rarely fucked my ass, and that was usually a painful, trying experience for me. I steeled myself for the initial pain of his penetration, while trying to relax. He was brutal, but I found myself able to tolerate it well. What was far more difficult to bear was the wild shaking of my nipple clamps, which swung continuously, torturing me, until he had his orgasm.

Only then did he lower the winch and bring me to my knees at his feet, all the other restraints still in place. Standing before me, his soiled cock inches away from my lips, he looked into my eyes again.

For a moment, I was at a loss. What was the magic word needed to earn an end to my torture? Was it a plea, or a gesture of submission, or thanking him for the punishment? It suddenly occurred to me that none of those were correct. All of them were motivated only by my concern for my own comfort. The answer was literally staring me in the face. In spite of my agonizing bonds, the tortuous clamps and my own heartfelt needs, I knew what my Master waited for. I opened my mouth and began cleaning his soiled cock with my lips and tongue.

As the shock of the tastes hit me and the humiliation of my act rolled over me in waves, I saw his face light up in a smile, the first he displayed since my punishment began. It did not take long for him to regain his erection, and not long after the cleaning was finished, I began to earnestly suck him towards another orgasm.

The nipple clamps were the hardest to bare. While my arms and shoulders were burning with the pain of long endured restraint and limited circulation, the clamps swung with every stroke of my mouth on his cock. Each time the weights struck my belly or his legs, they gave an extra tug against my tortured tits, one which would have had me moaning or screaming if my mouth wasn't filled with his cock. Still, even in the midst of my pain, I found myself rejoicing that he was using me again, reveling with every pulse of his erection, yearning more than anything else for him to fill my mouth with his next load. When he did finally come, I cried tears of joy, swallowing happily, knowing that I had made him happy and that my pain had a useful part in his arousal.

When he withdrew, I smiled. He spoke briefly: "Perhaps your punishment has taught you something, after all..." He then released the pole from my arms, reattaching my hands behind me with the metal handcuffs. The collar was left in place. Now, my nipple clamps were the only part of my real punishment which remained.

He looked down at my suffering nipples and asked, "Are your tits in pain, slut?"

I managed to smile as I answered, "Yes, Master."

"Would you like them released now?"

Knowing myself baited, I responded, "Master, you have always taught me that the pleasure of a Master is all-important, and that the pain of a slave is only important as it serves the pleasure of her Master."

"And what if, instead of releasing your clamps, I added still more weights, and maybe commanded you to shake them to entertain me with your pain?"

I momentarily shuddered with fear, just thinking about the pain that would cause. Then, I noticed the excitement in Master's face as he, too, considered the possibilities. I threw caution to the winds and, knowing my duty to my Master, begged him, "Please Master, add the extra weights and allow me to shake my tits for your amusement. I know how much you would enjoy it, and as your slave, it would be only proper to do what pleases you the most."

I think I genuinely impressed him. His eyes suggested that he anticipated releasing me at that moment, but the excitement he felt at my offer was something he could not refuse. He went to the wall and got another pair of weights.

The clamps were the cloverleaf type, severe ones, even with no weights attached. They were designed, however, to tighten when extra weight was hung from them. As Master added the additional weight, the pain in each nipple rose again, and I uttered a loud moan, almost a scream. I looked into his face and saw the excitement there. Pushing back my fear, I began to rotate my body back and forth, causing the clamps to swing.

I screamed in response, pausing momentarily. Then, I looked up again at Master's face and saw the fire there. For the first time, I saw true amazement in his eyes, and knew that he was seeing something he would remember for a long time. I gritted my teeth and swung my body so hard that the weights slammed into my ribcage high on either side of my breasts. I screamed at the top of my lungs at the pain, but managed to keep up the violent swinging for several more seconds until Master finally grabbed me firmly by the shoulders and said, "Enough!"

He removed the weights, then warned me, "It is time for the clamps to come off. You will find their removal quite painful for a few seconds, but that pain will pass soon."

"Yes Master. I only hope my pain pleases you."

He smiled down at me, and assured me, "It does, more than you would believe."

A few seconds later, the clamps were removed. My screams were the loudest yet, but the pain did indeed start to fade shortly thereafter. Wearing only the handcuffs and the heavy collar, I was escorted back to the bedroom, where I shared his bed. Interestingly, shortly after our arrival in his bed, he made as if he were going to squeeze my tit again, much like what precipitated my punishment, then withdrew his hand. "No, slave. Your tits have endured enough for one day."

Surprising both of us, I responded, "But Master, you enjoy it so much! What is the pain of a slave when compared to the pleasure of a Master?"

He smiled back, saying, "Now, it is the slave who teaches the Master!" He then did indeed take hold of both my tits, one in each hand, and squeezed until a scream escaped my lips. Looking down, I observed that his erection had returned in force, for the fourth time that night. Seconds later, it was buried in my throat. When he withdrew, intending to pleasure his slave by a fucking in her slave-cunt, I responded, "No Master, unless it is you yourself who wants it. Tonight, your slave only wishes to serve the pleasure of her Master."

He consented to my wish, and I reveled in the torture of my denial all night.

For weeks, I trained hard under Master's program. I practiced calisthenics to keep trim and flexible, usually exercising in a way that was sexually stimulating for both of us. There were many rewards and punishments meted out depending on my performance; many times, as a punishment, I would have to exercise while clamped, or while wearing large dildos in my cunt or ass. Sometimes, my sexual servitude would be combined with exercise, or with simple endurance training. For example, he would fuck one of my lower openings, then suspend me by my ankles with my mouth at his cock. I would have to clean him by mouth, then continue worshipping his cock until I swallowed his second orgasm before my inverted suspension would be released.

Another of his favorites was to use a harness to bury the largest possible dildo in my ass. My nipples would be clamped, with some moderate weights attached. Wrist shackles would be locked on; then, with me kneeling at his feet, a rope would be run from my wrists through an overhead pulley. He would use the rope to raise my wrists high overhead, then present me with his cock to suck. As I worked hard to open my throat to his sizable shaft, he would maintain his grip on the rope. Whenever he felt my nose pressing into his pubic hair, he would lower the rope allowing me to masturbate until my need for air caused me to pull back, whereupon he would instantly raise the rope again. We would continue the exercise until we both had orgasms. He also required me to come first, and he set an absolute time limit of thirty minutes for the exercise. Needless to say, my deep-throat techniques became expert very quickly.

My training soon advanced to the point where there was little left for me to improve in my performance for him. It was at that time that he began allowing me to serve his friends.

At first, I would just be dressed in a uniform, anything from a French Maid's outfit to simply leather shackles and a collar. I would serve drinks, cook food, light their cigarettes and cigars and be subject to whip discipline or restraint to punish any shortcomings. Of course, there were always shortcomings, no matter how perfect my performance was.

As time passed, my use by his friends was accelerated. Master would have me serve him with my mouth, or perhaps be forced to mount a dildo in my cunt or ass in their presence. Naturally, we soon progressed to my serving his friends sexually. Many nights passed with me kneeling for the duration, naked and bound, with my mouth filled with their cocks on a rotating basis. My cunt and ass were equally available, although the tastes of Master's guests resembled his own in that my cunt was by far the least used of my openings.

The first time I was confronted with a woman came as a shock to me, but I adjusted well. With only a slight touch of a cat-o-nine tails and the threat of clamps on my nipples and cuntlips, I soon was performing my first ever act of cunnilingus. Eventually, as female guests became more common among our visitors, what little reluctance I had towards lesbianism soon vanished to join the rest of my inhibitions as another memory from a distant past.

Now, with no more doors left for me to open, Master decided to open his own last door: the door to the fourth and final room.

It resembled the third room somewhat, with the presence of another rack, some stocks-like apparatus and numerous exotic devices designed to restrain an enslaved cunt. However, unlike the third room's purpose of punishment, this room was designed for the forceful sexual use of the slave.

The rack in this room, for example, while capable of stretching a girl as severely as the one I had already experienced, went much further, in that it could also spread her legs painfully wide, thrust out either her chest or her cunt, and allow the head to be strapped down immovably at an appropriate angle so that her mouth could be used without resistance. The pillory and stocks were likewise constructed both to expose the slave and present her in positions to make her available for unlimited use. There were several devices to motivate her oral servitude, causing her to punish herself when her mouth withdrew from her duty, by pulling on tit-clamps, or penetrating her ass, or other more exotic themes. One device Master used on me early on simply had me kneeling between his thighs as he sat to receive his service. Around my breasts were some rubber straps, lined with short needlepoints. The straps were connected to the seat under my Master. As I sucked him off, if I pulled back beyond a certain point, the straps around my breasts would tighten, the needles penetrating my sensitive breast-flesh, causing them to erupt in pain. As an alternative, clamps on my nipples could be attached with the same rubber straps, again resulting in my torturing myself if I was less than fully devoted in my service.

Several devices could be equipped with vibrators, or mechanical dildos. Often, Master would bind me to one of the devices, penetrate all three of my openings with the dildos, then blindfold me. Controls were available for the guests to start and stop the motion of any of the dildos, or vary the speed and depth of the strokes. For hours, they could party in the room while constantly keeping me on the edge of orgasm, moaning my frustration for their entertainment. A tradition soon developed where I would not be allowed orgasm unless I was able to suck every one of them to orgasm not once, but twice apiece.

While the men were sometimes brutal, I soon learned that Master's female guests could be even more demanding. Many times, I would be hanging from my four limbs face up, spread wide open, forced to lick and suck the cunt of the woman as she whipped my pussy. Another common theme would be for her to lie upon me as I was bound face-up on a bench, her pussy or ass directly over my mouth. She would then be fucked by her lover, or by another of the men present, while my poor breasts would be crushed by their combined weight. Thruout their fucking, I would be required to add to their pleasure by licking and sucking whatever I could reach, as well as keeping things neat by swallowing whatever juices made their way into my mouth. Naturally, when they finished, I would be required to give them both a thorough cleaning with my lips and tongue.

Master also taught me the difference between a lover and a slave. I was his slave, not his lover. My purpose was to serve him and anyone with whom he cared to share me as a complete slave, a domestic, a whore or a whipping girl. Many times, he would take home a lover, enjoy a romantic evening with her, while I acted only as a servant. For his kinkier lovers, I would again play the sex-slave, or the torture victim, or even be simply bound in plain view, blindfolded, then left to hang, suffering in pain and denial, as an ornament for the entire night. There was literally no limit to what could be done to me, short of injury. That, of course, would damage his property, so it must be avoided.

And how did I feel about all this?

I loved him more than ever. With each advance in my tolerance for use, punishment and dominance, I felt like I was climbing a ladder towards paradise. When I was in pain, I felt redeemed and appreciated, since Master was willing to put his effort into my training. When I was used sexually, I recognized the great pleasure I gave him. When he denied me pleasure while I served, I felt secure in his control, while all the other sensations I felt were amplified tenfold. Even when I was subjected to the deepest humiliations, degraded to the very bottom of my soul, it felt to me like I was being raised on a pedestal, shown off as a major accomplishment of slave training. The only thing I feared was that he would abandon me some day, but considering his enjoyment of my servitude and the pride he took in showing me off to others, I knew that was unlikely to happen.

He came to me one night as I suffered on the rack in the fourth room. I was in a severe spread-eagle, my nipples and cuntlips gently clamped and pulled up and out by string to present me totally opened. My arousal was at a peak, and had been so for the several hours since he had restrained me. I could still taste the remnants of his come in my mouth from when he used me right after binding me in place.

"I'm hosting a party tonight, pig. We'll be welcoming a dozen couples, all members of a bondage club. All the men are dominant. Most of the women are tops as well, and those that aren't are switchable. No matter, you'll be the only full-time slave present, as well as the guest of honor."

"Master?"

He smiled down at my aroused body, then chuckled, knowing he was about to drop the bomb on me. "Yes, my slut. You will be the guest of honor, although perhaps the slave of honor would be more appropriate. You see, you will be solely responsible for sexually servicing everyone present tonight."

A wave of response passed through me. I felt the deep humiliation at knowing that I would be essentially submitting, willingly, to being a suck-slave to a full two dozen men and women. I would have no control over when or if I would be permitted pleasure myself; I might be denied all night as I served, or I might be forced to come rapid-fire for their entertainment and be unable to resist displaying my passion before their eyes. Beyond that, I was unlikely to be free of restraints for the duration; worse, there would be two dozen pairs of hands to torture me. Somehow I knew, without being told, that the party would take place in this, the fourth room.

"There will be no need to help with the food; a caterer has already delivered everything we'll need. Just lie back and relax--the first guests will be arriving in just a few hours..."

I shut my eyes and groaned loudly in both fear and deep arousal. As high as my limits were, this night would test them thoroughly. Worse, I was already highly aroused by my current ordeal, and I knew I would not be allowed either an orgasm or a rest until Master's guests began using me. I had already been bound for at least two hours, and I guessed there might be a puddle of my juice on the floor beneath my rack. I closed my eyes and allowed the feelings to wash over me again.

I then continued to suffer, and to wait for my Master's pleasure.

Master had the refreshments set up right in the torture room, on either side of my rack. I thought, with some perverse amusement, that it was a convenient arrangement including chips, shelled nuts, canapes, sandwiches, my own mouth, tits, cunt and ass, salads, coffee and an open bar. Indeed, as the first couples were escorted in, they were happy to partake of all the delicacies offered, including my rigidly bound flesh.

All had been briefed on my presence and purpose, including their nearly unlimited access to my body. In point of fact, when perhaps half the couples had arrived, one man stood at my head, revealed his erect cock and, with no preamble, thrust it all the way down my throat. I accepted it without a hint of protest, and he withdrew after only several powerful thrusts. The woman with him commented, "If she's just as willing and able with us girls, we should have a great time tonight! Let me give her a try..." She lifted her skirt, revealing a pair of crotchless black satin panties. Placing her asshole directly over my immobilized face, she simply said, "Put that tongue way up inside, where it belongs!" I obeyed, as she wiped her cuntal juice over my upper face, burying my nose. As she withdrew, she commented her approval to her man, saying nothing to me.

From the first arrivals, it took less than half an hour for all the guests to arrive. I found it interesting to note that the couples mingled freely, the men often congregating between my widely spread legs as they enjoyed the view of my opened body, while the women were more drawn to the opposite end of the rack as they watched my face, enjoying my humiliation. There was also much touring of the available fixtures and equipment, often guided by my Master, received with enthusiasm by the guests. This frightened me far more than their interest in my flesh, as I knew that I would be the prime subject on which the equipment would be used.

The guests quickly settled in to the party, relaxing on several chairs and sofas which had been moved into the room for their comfort. One couple, highly aroused by my display, began using their hands on each other, their arousal building rapidly, as Master, smiling, interrupted them.

"Now, now, people. You know the rules. Tonight, my slave will service you all. You wouldn't want her to feel left out, would you?"

I shuddered, counting the heads in the room. I knew, in a few hours, I'd be willing to do anything to feel lonely.

The couple came to my head. I was hoping that my painfully stretched cunt would attract at least the men during the early hours, so my mouth wouldn't tire too quickly, but that would not be the case. The man simply smiled and said, "After you, my dear!"

She sat on my face. She lowered her clit to my lips and my tongue began its servitude as she enjoyed the view of my clamped and stretched body. Since the straps over my forehead and lower jaw prevented any movement of my head, she herself controlled the use of my mouth, sometimes sliding her cunt over my mouth to be deeply penetrated by my tongue as I swallowed her copious juices, sometimes returning her clit to my lips as she buried my nose in her pussy. I breathed when I could, swallowed frequently, but didn't dare stop my oral ministrations until long after she cried out in orgasm.

Her male companion left me no time to rest. Seconds after her ass-cheeks lifted themselves from my eyes, I was greeted with the sight of his erect cock, inches away from my lips and approaching rapidly. He started out dropping just the head of his cock in my mouth, allowing me to nurse on it gently, as his balls rested on my eyes. Soon, he placed those balls in my mouth to be licked and sucked, as my eyes were permitted the intimate view of his asshole. It didn't take long before his cock was pummeling my throat and I was swallowing his load. I got down most of it, although a few drops escaped my lips to run down the side of my face. I felt the relatively mild humiliation of this at first, then realized that I could very well be subjected to a full blown come-bath long before this night was over.

Another woman followed, then several men in a row. Suddenly, I felt the foot end of the rack rising a bit. I recalled that Master had set up the rack at the ideal height at which to fuck my cunt. The adjustment could only mean one thing: someone was going to fuck my ass. Almost as soon as the realization hit me, I felt a finger penetrate my tightest opening, greasing it to prepare it for entry.

A number of women began drifting toward that end of the rack as I felt the first prodding of the cock at my anus. Master had indeed trained my ass to accept his cock without complaint, and he generally had me wear an anal dildo regularly to keep me open. It occurred to me that my ass had not been fucked now for several days, probably in anticipation of this party. Now, as the man's cock pushed its way inside, my ass tightened around it, increasing his pleasure and my pain. Equally interesting, I noted that several women cheered their approval; not at the man's entry, but at my brief scream with the initial pain. Yes, the female guests would be just as sadistic with me as the men, if not more so.

Master had been periodically removing the clamps on my nipples and cuntlips for the obvious safety reasons. Although the clamps were mild compared to those he usually used to punish and train me, the time I would be required to wear them made it necessary to remove them about every hour or so. I screamed as he did so, only partially muffled by the cunt which was energetically sawing its way to orgasm on my well-juiced face. Moments later, though,. I found myself subjected to yet another kind of pain, as he began wrapping straps around my breasts.

I shuddered as I contemplated my sensitive breast-flesh being stretched as tightly and painfully as the rest of my body, then I quickly detected the first telltale pinprick of metal as the tiny points lining the straps began to penetrate my most sensitive skin. Soon, as I moaned in ever-increasing pain, I began to feel my every breath (when I could breathe at all), every shake of my body, every flex of my muscles as I struggled within my bonds, all echoed in my tortured breasts.

I knew enough about the mind of my Master to understand the high degree of stimulation he got from watching me writhe under punishment. It is the most significant reason why the bondage of a slave is prolonged at least until it tests the tolerance of the slave. Now, it would accelerate the process with me, providing me with the type of punishment which could keep me writhing all night with no need to worry about my blood circulation. And when the nipple clamps were replaced, as I knew they would be soon, they would be all the more painful.

Master's voice interrupted my misery as he announced the next phase of the party's program: "It is time to draw the name of our first guest slave-girl. As you know, the lucky winner will be stripped, placed in a chastity belt to be worn all night, then her wrists will be hoisted up until she is up on tip-toe. She will remain hanging naked and available for abuse until she begs to be allowed to serve the next phase of her enslavement.

"When she makes that request, another name will be drawn and another woman will be hung up in her place. The first, in turn, will be chained on her knees right by the cunt of our permanent slave-in-residence, and be required to clean her after each fucking, as well as sucking the men's cocks clean as well. She will remain at that job until the following girl requests the right to replace her. For the final stage, she will be placed in serving chains and be required to serve the party at large for the remainder of the evening. She might be whipped, placed in restraints using any equipment available, or even arouse the other male and female guests with her mouth, to prepare them to use our house slave.

"If our first guest slaves are able to endure well, perhaps only two or three of you might be so enslaved. However, if you don't find the strength, you may all be in chains before this night ends. All the women have been fully briefed on these conditions, and have agreed to them prior to admission. If any of you wish to withdraw at this time, do so now, or you will be committed for the duration."

He paused for a moment, as a hush fell over the crowd. Even the man vigorously pumping my throat at the time slowed his pace, feeling the excitement of the moment. Master, seeing no second thoughts among the guests, announced, "So be it! Let us draw our first name!"

All eyes were on Master as he made the drawing. Several of the women present smiled, confident they would not be chosen, while others were fearful, attempting to hide a shudder, fully aware of the stakes of the game. Master smiled a bit himself, as he looked at the name, slowly scanning the room to locate the first victim, giving no clue as to her identity. Finally, he read out the name.

"Georgina! Step forward and submit!"

There were a few gasps of relief; a couple of men applauded. Georgina herself was one of those totally confident of retaining her freedom thruout the night. Suddenly, her face blanched as she realized her freedom had, in fact, ended in no uncertain terms. "Oh shit, no!"

The faces of several men surrounding her left her with no doubts, especially as she saw her own husband smiling at her, holding the leather for her wrists. For the sake of drama, he shackled her first and quickly hoisted her arms up before moving to strip off her dress.

For once, I was grateful. The man currently using my throat had positioned himself in such a way that I was able to watch the performance. Georgina's dress, a highly revealing black sheath made for her by a well-known New York designer, fell to the floor with the unfastening of a single snap. In the back of my mind, I found myself wishing that Master would get me such a dress.

Georgina, however, was less than pleased. She was naked beneath the dress, as well as shaved. Even from my vantage point, I could see her juices running down her thighs. As her husband approached with the chastity belt, I knew she would suffer heavily the denial of a slave.

My enjoyment was suddenly interrupted by the ramming of a large, erect cock deeply into my cunt. I gasped loudly around the cock still in my mouth, feeling myself rapidly being driven into orgasm. As I watched Georgina's chastity belt being tightened and locked, the man using my mouth had his orgasm, which in turn drove me quickly to another one as I again swallowed the load.

Several men in succession then used my cunt, leaving my mouth idle except for one woman who finished quickly. I was momentarily curious, until I began to feel the cum of the men dripping out of me onto my thighs. Then, all became clear. I was being made ready for Georgina.

She, in turn, was the constant target of hands, both male and female. Her tits were caressed, squeezed and pinched, her ass was penetrated by one or two fingers, even her encased cunt was the playful object of the men, enjoying the game of trying to defeat the locked belt.

Eventually, though, she tired. She knew she would hang in place until she herself begged for an increase in her own humiliation. Fighting back a sob, she used the assigned words and begged, "Please Masters, release me so I may clean the soiled cunt of your house slave with my mouth."

It was only a few minutes later that her collar was connected by a locked chain to the rack, her face inches from my cunt. Indeed, she was so close, she could lick one hip of the men as they fucked me. And now, that line was endless.

Soon, as the next slave was belted and hung by her wrists, another male load was deposited in my already overflowing cunt. A moment later, I felt Georgina, that elegant, self-centered debutant, begin to lick the cum from my pussy as she knelt, chained and naked, between my thighs.

A harsh twist of one of my nipples returned my attention to my own ordeal, as yet another cunt draped itself over my face. I noticed that this one was dripping a bit of cum itself--she had been fucked recently, having cheated on the rules for this night, and she would probably take more work to bring off, even after I finished cleaning her.

There was no way I could keep track of the time, of the regular rotation of the other girls being enslaved, of the number of guests who used my mouth for their pleasure, of the number of men who fucked both my cunt and my ass. Much later, I had come so many times, I was utterly exhausted. I had swallowed so much juice from the men and women using me, I was bloated. I only know that hours later, the last cock of the night to fill my throat had a familiar feel to it.

It was my Master. The last of the guests had left as he used my mouth, and we were now alone together. My pussy, now idle for the better part of an hour, again yearned to be touched, proving me to be a true slut. As I swallowed Master's load, I felt like I was in slave-paradise. Master then surprised me, kissing me directly upon the lips, unconcerned about the traces which remained.

"I am proud of you, my cunt! You served well."

Just those few words, a rare compliment from a Master to his slave, fulfilled me like nothing else could. I smiled broadly. "Thank you, Master. I do hope I pleased you."

An hour later, Master was in his bed. He allowed me another rare privilege, that of sharing the bed with him, wearing only a collar and the handcuffs behind my back. He used a bit of leather to attach me in position so that I could gently nurse on his cock all night. I was happy, glowing, actively searching for ways to bring him even more pleasure.

A couple of weeks had gone by when he brought up the party again, over a late supper at home.

"You really enjoyed yourself that night, didn't you, slut!"

Smiling, I answered, "Yes, Master."

He was smiling gently himself. "I've talked with several of the couples involved. They also have fond memories of that night. They'd like to do it again..."

My smile grew wider, and my nipples quickly hardened, remembering a very long string of orgasms I enjoyed on the rack that night. "Oh, Master, could we?"

Master's smile remained, but there was something else happening. "Of course, as enjoyable as the night was for all concerned, I wouldn't want to appear like I was spoiling a slave, would I?"

"Of course not, Master. Please keep me bound, and punish me if I fail you in the least way!"

"Good!" Continuing to smile, he informed me, "We will be doing it again, this Saturday night."

I jumped up and put my arms around him, exclaiming, "Oh, thank you, Master!"

"Of course, we're going to have a couple of minor changes for this party..."

Still smiling, anticipating, I asked, "Yes, Master?"

"We'll be eliminating the enslavement of the female guests. You will be the only slave present, and you will service us all."

A shudder passed thru me, one of great arousal. Now, I would be the center of attention for the entire party. I assumed the women guests would be quite jealous. My smile continued to grow.

We had finished eating, and I made short work of the cleanup, with Master watching my movements as he enjoyed doing. On the way to the bedroom, I was anticipating being used, perhaps even allowed an orgasm myself. I had had a good day, earning no punishments.

"Master, you said there would be a couple of changes for this party. You only mentioned one."

We arrived at the bedroom. He smiled again, teasing me with the delay. "First, let's get you fixed up for the night."

Even perfect service does not guarantee a comfortable night for a slave. I pouted as he locked on my chastity belt. I noticed, he used the one equipped with the screen over my pussy, the one he could leave locked in place indefinitely.

"Master, have I failed to please you?"

"Not at all, slut. It pleases me to deny you pleasure."

I knew my place. "Yes, Master."

He restrained me kneeling at the side of his bed. I had been there before, and did not look forward to what would be an uncomfortable night, in more ways than one. He would use only my mouth tonight, and my body would suffer as I knelt at the ready, available to suck him on command. I could count on him using me at least twice before I would be released in the morning.

He slid into bed, his cock presented to me to service. I risked asking him one more time. "Master, if it pleases you, you were going to tell me of the other change for the party?"

"First, open!"

He took a gentle but solid grip in my hair, and I submitted my mouth to his pleasure. As his erection was fully restored, he explained.

"It is very simple, slut. It was observed that you were allowed to take pleasure all night long, even in the midst of your full-time enslavement. The wives of the men were resentful, especially considering that they are only submissive on an occasional basis. They felt, with justification, that a redress is in order. So, the first change will be that they will maintain their complete freedom and will not suffer in denial."

I paused in servicing him, only long enough to ask, "Yes, Master. That is the first change of which you spoke. You were going to tell me the second?"

Now, he smiled the vicious smile which I knew to mean trouble for me.

"Yes, slut. The chastity belt you now wear will remain locked in place until that party is over."

My eyes widened. My cunt, locked away securely, was flowing copiously even then. I knew my arousal would grow for the several days before the party, and the party itself would be sheer torture, with all of the people present taking their pleasure in my mouth alone.

I groaned, at a peak of frustration already. I felt Master's cock beginning to pulse, his orgasm imminent.

I was a slave. His slave. He would never let me forget that, no matter what. And now, as he shot his load down my throat and across my face, he taught me that lesson yet again.

As I knelt by his bed watching him sleep, awaiting the next return of his arousal which would require me to suck him off yet again, I remembered my slavery.

And as I felt the humiliation of his come dripping down my face onto my outthrust tits, as I continued to swallow, savoring his taste, and as I wallowed in the denied arousal that would be mine for days to come, I felt the sensations in my body. I knew that the intensity of the sensations I now experienced, the depth of the fulfillment and the total security I felt being owned by a true Master would be impossible to find anywhere else. This was my fulfillment. I smiled, and under my breath, I whispered to myself, "Please Master, don't ever free me!"

Copyright (c) 1996
Master Ivan Press