Milovana.com

No Longer Mine

by Master Ivan

My body is no longer mine. It belongs to my Master, my owner and trainer, Master Ivan. He took possession of me slowly, over a period of time. Now, though I am a mere slave, a chattel, a sex-toy and whipping girl, I am happier than I have ever been in my life.

It started many months ago. We knew each other casually, and we dated sporadically. He took me to a dinner or movie, and while we didn’t always finish with sex, sometimes we did nothing but make love. Strictly vanilla sex; well done, but no kinks.

Our conversations were another story. I knew early on what his real interests were. He frequently told me about his slave-girls, the parties he attended and sometimes hosted, and his different approaches to training slaves. I made it clear from the start that I intended to remain a free spirit.

Still, my curiosity betrayed my inner fantasies. Frequently, it was me that started talking about kink, asking questions about slave training and discipline, about how he used and abused his slaves, and about innumerable details. It is clear to me now that he knew me much better than I knew myself.

Finally, the day came when he confronted me with myself. I had always said, in no uncertain terms, that I would remain free to come and go as I pleased. So when he made his initial proposition, I felt secure, unthreatened.

“Be honest with yourself. There is a part of you that begs for submission, that gets hot with the very thought of it. Think about this. You don’t have to surrender everything. If you wish, you can offer up small parts of yourself, you can surrender a few freedoms, a piece at a time.”

“How? What do you mean?”

“A number of my best slaves started out feeling much as you do, afraid of going too far and getting caught up in a situation they could not control. For them, I came up with a contract of submission. It provides a full list of activities, with an agreement to surrender each item separately, as it is signed.”

Again, my curiosity rose up and overruled my sense of what was practical. “Could I see it?”

He took a sheet of paper out of a drawer and placed it on the table before me:
Contract of Submission

I, ___________________, being aware of the qualifications and references possessed by Master Ivan, acknowledge my desire to submit to him.

Being aware, also, of the profound changes in my life that immediate and total enslavement would entail, I hereby select the option of submission in stages, as outlined below.

I now surrender, unconditionally, to Master Ivan, the right to use and enjoy my body, as outlined in the following list of items, with each item becoming an irrevokable part of this contract as it is initialed by me. He may enjoy each privilege granted on the list by my signature, without further limits, without the requirement of warning, justification or other consideration, simply on his whim. I expect no renumeration, compensation or reward for my availability, nor do I even expect to receive pleasure in return, unless it is also the whim of my Master.

Should I wish to terminate this contract at any time, I understand that I may do so, but only in its entirety. I also understand that when I initial the final item on the list, the entire contract becomes permanent and irrevokable.

X ___________________ ___/___/___

I read through it rapidly, feeling the fire within me beginning to build. Reading the list of specific areas of submission, I began seeing how wide a spectrum of activity was involved. My images of enslavement were suddenly cleared, the clouds wiped away, while I began seeing options I had never considered.

Obviously, things like copulation, vaginal, oral or anal, were a given. Others, like the restraint of wrists or ankles and the use of various levels of whips, were equally easy to anticipate.

Some things, though, were new and fired my imagination. Restraint such as stocks or a cage were unforeseen. Chastity belts, I thought, were reserved for medieval fantasy. As I noticed references to nipple clamps, my own nipples were suddenly erect, and I found myself suppressing an urge to caress myself.

I noted also some mention of control over dress. I had worn a somewhat sheer blouse, a short skirt and a very thin lacy bra and panties. I wondered what a Master would permit me to wear, either in private or in public.

At that, I felt myself growing moist. My curiosity was not satisfied, only fed and strengthened. I already knew I was going to sign.

“Tell me, Ivan. How do I know I can trust you?”

He smiled a moment. “If you couldn’t trust me, you would already be chained naked in my dungeon.” As I shuddered visibly, he added, “Slave training is a delicate matter. It is easy to bind a girl and force her to obey. It is much more difficult to truly train her, to condition her, so she obeys willingly and desires to submit. For such training, trust is absolutely vital, because while the slave-girl must fear punishment, she must also love her Master and desire to please him more than anything else in the world. If you do not trust me completely, do not sign.”

I reconsidered, briefly. I squirmed in my seat, feeling my wet pussy, imagining a whip falling on my ass, or clamps tightening on my nipples. My body answered for me.

Quickly, I signed the main contract, then looked at the long list. I initialed the lines for restraint of my wrists, ankles, and wearing a collar. Looking again, I added vaginal and oral copulation.

I looked into his eyes. He was growing as exited as I was, although he kept it well-concealed. I saw that he was feeling not victorious, but simply elated at my actions, hoping for more. At that moment, I knew I would be able to trust him.

I initialed hand spanking, then nipple clamps. I then handed him the contract.

We smiled at each other, looking deep into each other’s eyes. It was a magic moment, one of transformation. More significantly, the ball was totally in his court. He did not take long to begin exercising his new rights over me.

“Come with me.”

I followed him into his den. He seated himself, then said, “I wish to use your body, immediately. Remove your clothes!”

Slowly, I removed my blouse, skirt, then my shoes and stockings. Taking a deep breath, I then shed my bra and panties, both of us fully aware of my erect nipples and my rapidly moistening pussy. Naked, I stood before him.

He smiled, then stood up and slowly circled me, examining my body in great detail. Wordlessly, he went to a cabinet and returned with some implements to be used on my body.

He handcuffed my wrists behind my back. Now, I was truly helpless. I could no longer conceal my nudity, nor could I resist any use he cared to make of me. With his hands, he gently caressed me, exploring my flesh as I stood helpless. He stroked a breast, then pinched a nipple painfully hard, causing me to gasp. Similarly, he manipulated my pussy, penetrating me briefly, also pulling hard on my cuntlips to expose my innermost secrets.

My body responded obviously to him, my nipples remaining erect, my cunt opening to him.

“Slut--I am now going to use you for my pleasure. To remind you that my pleasure is all-important, and that your pleasure is nothing unless it is by my wish, I will use your cunt first, then finish in your mouth. To ensure your cooperation, your nipples will be clamped at least until I come in your mouth.”

I moaned deeply in arousal. My very flesh shone with the glow it now felt anticipating his touch, a touch I was now powerless to resist. There was also the first hint of fear, a fear which became real and justified as he produced the clamps which would soon begin torturing my nipples.

They were deceptively small, innocent looking bits of chrome joined by light chain. He slipped them in place, and I quickly felt their moderate pain. My mind had fantasized this first moment of pain earlier. I had different pictures of the moment, with one image producing unendurable torture of my nipples, the other giving me just a light stimulation. Now, the reality sunk in, as my tits responded with real pain, but at a level which was endurable, if punishing. By reflex, I struggled briefly against my locked handcuffs, knowing myself helplessly restrained. All I accomplished was to shake the clamps, causing them to swing. I would suffer the clamps until my Master chose to release them.

He brought me to my knees, then pushed my upper body to the floor until my back was arched, my clamped breasts were pressed into the hardwood floor, and my right cheek rested on the floor as well. My ass was prominently thrust out behind me. My knees were separated, but my Master wanted them spread wide. Using his booted toe, he forced my knees further apart until I felt my cunt and ass opened to the very air.

He knelt behind me and drove his cock deep into my cunt on the first stroke. I screamed in both pain and pleasure as he fucked me brutally, bringing me to several powerful orgasms within a few short minutes. I found the pain in my nipples pushing my arousal to new heights, driving me forward, making me hunger for more. Soon, I collapsed from the pleasure.

I came back to reality quickly. The clamps remained tight on my tits, and now, without my arousal, the pain was growing substantial. As I began to struggle again with my locked wrists, I realized my Master’s cock was still hard, filling my cunt. I moaned as my arousal began again, now against a backdrop of greater pain.

He sensed my renewed arousal and withdrew from my cunt. I moaned again, and begged, “Please, I need more!”

He smiled down at me, and pulled my upper body so I knelt upright at his feet. His cock bobbed inches from my face, and I could see and smell the heavy coat of juice which covered it.

“You are a slave, cunt. The pleasure of a slave is unimportant, unless it is the will of her Master that she takes pleasure. I have granted you pleasure. Now, you will please me. With your mouth.”

He collared me, then attached a leash. He pulled, forcefully, until I opened my mouth and allowed his cock to push in.

I began to taste my own cunt-juices. At first, the humiliation passed through me in waves, as I cleaned my juice from his cock with my mouth. Soon, the taste itself caused my arousal to rise, and I surrendered to the feelings, and began to lick him as well. From time to time, he interrupted my efforts, pulling out of my mouth to allow me to lick and suck his balls, tasting his sweat. Each time, though, he would quickly push back into my mouth. Soon, he was driving down my throat.

He used me as a slave. He showed no concern for my arousal, my discomfort, my humiliation or my pain. He pulled my head on and off of his cock by the hair, guided only by his own need, even when the pain in my nipples mounted as the clamps swung with my movements. I groaned with both pain and arousal, continuing to struggle against my handcuffs, knowing myself helpless to stop my use.

Soon, I felt his cock pulsing in my throat, and I knew his orgasm was imminent. Indeed, several seconds later, he pulled out of my mouth, still maintaining his ever-tightening grip in my hair, and shot his first spurt into my face. As I felt it beginning to drip down onto my breasts, he drove back into my mouth, forcing me to swallow the rest.

He made me clean him, as well, licking his cock and balls until they were immaculate, all the while being careful not to soil him with the come which covered my own face and body.

The cleaning done, he took my leash again and led me to the side of the room, on my knees, to face a large mirror. He looped the end of the leash around a nearby hook, then said, “You are a slave. Look at yourself and see the slave you are.” He then walked away.

I knelt and looked. I could not rise or move away; I was bound there by my leash and collar. I could not free my wrists; they were still locked behind my back. Again, I struggled briefly against the handcuffs, but only succeeded in making the muscles in my body stand out, attractively, as well as shaking the clamps still torturing my nipples. The pain in my tits grew steadily, causing me to moan regularly as I suffered. My face still bore his come, and much of it had dripped down to my breasts. I could still taste him in my mouth. And all of it, I found, aroused me. Looking lower, I saw my knees still widely spread, my cunt opened. My very clit was visible, erect and begging for attention.

Master Ivan was right. There was a slave-girl inside me, trying to get out. And she was terribly aroused.

He left me alone for only a few minutes, then returned, quickly removing the clamps from my nipples. I moaned again in both pain and pleasure as he did so, displaying my arousal. He could see my response in my eyes. With a finger, he scooped up some of his come from my cheek, then thrust the finger in my mouth. I licked and sucked it hungrily, moaning as I did so.

He released me from all my restraints, and allowed me to wash and refresh myself. As I returned to his den, covered only by a towel, he smiled from his chair.

“Coffee?”

“Yes Master, please.”

He smiled as I used his title. He asked, “Would you like to enjoy it as my guest, or as my slave?” He indicated the couch, where my clothes were neatly stacked on one cushion. Another cushion held wrist and ankle cuffs, a collar and some chain.

My arousal returned in force. I took a deep breath, then allowed my towel to drop, leaving me naked before him. I fell to my knees, crawled to him, then kissed his boots. “As your slave, Master, if you would have me.”

He locked all the leather onto my body, connected by generous lengths of chain. At his command, I went to the kitchen and made the coffee myself, then served him from my knees. With his permission, I then poured myself a cup as well.

“So tell me, how do you feel?”

I smiled, conscious of my arousal and my exposure. “I love it! It’s scary, but its turning me on more than anything! I want more already!”

He smiled back. “A girl should be enslaved at the proper pace. Moving too quickly can overwhelm her, while moving too slowly lessens her fear and anticipation. Today, you’ve done enough. But you will return here tomorrow, and we will continue.”

The last was a command. I would obey it.

“Yes Master.”

We spent some time finishing our coffee, continuing to talk. The contract came up again, and its list of items to which I would submit. “It would be useful at this time to begin adjusting your clothes. The process of dressing you as a slave takes time to do properly and should be started soon. If you would be willing to initial that item now, I could start you on that phase tonight.”

I had a brief fantasy of being forced to appear in public dressed as a slut, in heels, a micro-skirt, a top which revealed most of my breasts, and no underwear. My pussy answered for me, as it quickly moistened and began to open. “Of course, Master.” I found the line reading “Staged control of dress”, and signed it.

Master Ivan took back the contract, noting my signature, then went to the couch, where my clothes rested. He noted my panties, sheer and lacy, approving. My bra, however, was too opague. He threw it into the wastebasket. He then unlocked all my shackles, and said, “Dress!”

I put on my remaining clothes. He enjoyed my blouse, sheer enough to reveal my aureoles now that the bra was gone. Still, he found that it was not cut low enough. He reachd out and plucked off the top button.

The tight blouse opened substantially, exposing all my cleavage. “Much better!”, he said. He then rolled up my skirt from the top until the hem rose several inches, exposing my legs to my upper thighs.

“Now, let’s go!”

I felt the breeze under my skirt as it touched my upper thighs and asscheeks. Also, every move I made caused my erect, sensitized nipples to brush against the thin blouse, keeping me aroused. By the time we got to my place, my panties were soaked.

He had me strip again on arrival. He then went through my entire wardrobe, examining many articles of clothing, separating those items which would be acceptable. The most conservative, he locked away in my footlocker, substituting his own padlock for my own. I would not be able to wear the prohibited clothes. Over the next few weeks, he would visit me regularly, locking away more clothes on each trip, also recommending the purchase of others, until my street-wear presented me as a true whore.

I visited him daily, spending the nights with him more often than not. For a couple of weeks, I would frequently initial another item on the list, signing away more of my freedom. Then, for nearly a week, I hesitated. most of the pleasurable items were already his. What remained were punishments and the deeper humiliations. He asked me, finally, “Are you losing your courage?”

On the contrary. I was, in fact, feeling quite daring at that moment. Still, the items left were quite intimidating. Nearly naked, kneeling before him, I spoke.

“Master, I want to go further, but its hard to choose. Could you pick for me? I know its been awhile since I’ve given you anything new, so choose two for me!”

He smiled back. “If I was training you in the usual fashion, I’d lay out the entire program, leaving you no options at all. But to consent to your request would violate the spirit of this entire agreement. You must make your selections, not me.”

I pouted for a moment as we both thought. Then, he spoke again.

“Perhaps there is a solution.”

“Master?”

“Take some small sheets of paper and write down items from the list, one item per sheet. Then, you can make a blind drawing.”

“Yes! Let’s do it!”

Smiling, I quickly started writing as Master supplied the paper. He noted that even on the paper, I was still picking the mildest remaining items, and he frowned at me.

“Come now, you should at least make it interesting!”

Relenting, I added several more items which caused me to shudder with fear. I had already resolved myself to sign off whatever items I drew; now, there was much more at risk.

Master mixed the papers into a bowl, and I drew the first. It read, “Stocks”.

Relieved, I smiled, my courage renewed. I signed it quickly, then offered him, “Why not lock me in the stocks now, and I can draw my second item then!”

He smiled back. “I like it, slut! Then, if you pick something more difficult on the second draw, you’ll be helpless to resist!”

We exchanged smiles, then he tore off my brief slave rags. “Follow me, cunt!” He took the contract and the remaining slips with him.

It was more like a pillory, with multiple slots for the ankles of a standing slavegirl. One pair of slots held the legs together, a second spread them perhaps two feet, while the third would spread her open a painful four feet or more. He locked my ankles into the middle set, then assisted me in bending over to place my neck and wrists in their appointed positions.

I was bent over ninety degrees, both my cunt and mouth at an ideal height to service him. I had no doubt I would remain locked in position at least until he came, probably in my mouth, as he had favored that opening most of the time.

Still, I had to draw another slip. He held the bowl next to my right hand. I picked one and handed it over to him. Reading it, he smiled, then held it up for me to read.

“Anal copulation”.

I shuddered. For me, this would be a painful, major step. He had penetrated my ass with only a single finger, or sometimes a most slender rubber butt plug, finger-sized. His cock was many times larger. And now, he held the contract at my hand, and placed the pen in my fingers.

Fearfully, but willingly, I signed.

He put down the contract, then spoke, this time as my Master.

“You have given me your ass, slave. Know now, you will remain locked in the stocks until I fuck your ass not once, but twice. After the first time, I will clamp both your nipples and your cuntlips, the clamps to remain until your ass brings me off a second time, then your mouth sucks me clean.”

He placed the clamps out where I could see them, then said, “For now, cunt, I want a cup of coffee. I will begin your ass-fucking when I wish to do so.” He then left the room.

I stood fearfully, exposed and helpless, awaiting his return. At least fifteen minutes passed, during which I sometimes struggled against the hardwood imprisoning my wrists, ankles and throat, chafing myself. I felt the occasional drafts in the room, caressing my breasts and inner thighs, reminding me of my openness and vulnerability. The sensation was enjoyable, until I realized I would later be clamped, torturing my most sensitive parts, until my second ass-rape was finished. My flesh erupted with goosebumps at the thought, and I felt my already opened cunt juicing.

Master Ivan returned. Wordlessly, he began applying a lubricant to his erection, then to my ass. As his small finger penetrated me, I moaned, tightening against him. He spoke to me as he continued to work.

“The fucking of a slave’s ass is far more appropriate than her cunt. The cunt is better equipped to open, accepts penetration, and lubricates itself for the comfort of the slut. It gives her pleasure, with little pain. Resistance is difficult, especially when she is bound. Her ass, however, being poorly adapted to the task, supplies a natural resistance to being fucked which the slut must overcome with her willful cooperation. She must relax, submitting to her use, however painful it might be, or else she tightens in resistance, increasing her pain and her Master’s pleasure. So the true slave must learn to submit her ass to her Master, accepting pain with little or no pleasure, while giving her Master great pleasure in return. Her posture, as well, is symbolic of her submission, and presents her asscheeks to the Master’s whip.”

His words scared me a bit, yet they all caused my arousal to build. I knew he could see my open, wet cunt, and I knew he would not touch it. As his fingers withdrew from my ass, I steeled myself, trying to relax for his first penetration.

I felt his cock at my anus. Just a light touch at first, he slowly increased the pressure until, with a sharp pain, my ass opened, admitting the head of his cock. I cried out, then tried to again relax, waiting for a further thrust. He paused, however, giving my ass a chance to adjust to him.

As I relaxed, the pain quickly faded, and was replaced with simply a feeling of being stretched open. As I opened further, he pushed again, and another inch of his cock entered.

He was patient with me, taking several minutes before the entire length of his cock was buried in my ass. I felt full, very vulnerable, and I understood already what Master told me about ass-fucking being better for a slave than using her cunt. Now, I felt pain with my pleasure, and I knew it would be difficult or impossible to have an orgasm myself this way. I was sacrificing my pleasure to give my Master more pleasure, accepting pain to validate my submission. As he began stroking in and out of my ass, with ever more powerful strokes, I felt his pleasure, not my own. Soon, he emptied his load inside me, and I knew the small token of pleasure I had felt would now end.

He withdrew, and I immediately felt his come start to ooze out of my ass, dripping down on my thighs. My asshole remained opened to the air, and I would be helpless to either conceal my opened body or to clean my soiled flesh. I opened my eyes, and saw his cock inches from my face. I reddened in deepening humiliation as I recalled his agenda. His cock was covered, both with his come and with the residue from my ass. And I knew he would make me take it into my mouth.

“Clean me, slut!”

I opened my mouth. Soon, the tastes from his cock covered my lips and tongue as I dutifully licked and sucked his soiled shaft. It took a substantial time to clean him fully, and the tastes remained in my mouth long after he withdrew. All the while, I continued to feel his load drip out of my ass and down my body. I was humiliated, aroused, frustrated, and my bones were feeling the aches and soreness already from my lengthening bondage in the standing pillory.

It would get worse before it got better. And Master Ivan assured that it got worse quickly, as he reappeared with the clamps.

They were neither gentle nor the most vicious ones available, but I would never forget they were there. My nipples were clamped first, starting with my right. I groaned deeply as the first one bit into my tit-flesh and started its painful burn. I could feel the light weight swing from it, renewing the pain constantly. As my left nipple received itrs torturous companion, I groaned yet again.

I had momentarily forgotten. Suddenly, his fingers pulled out one of my cuntlips and attached a third clamp. I cried out with the pain, and soon felt my other cuntlip similarly bit. The clamps opened me further, humiliating me as they tortured me. And with the weights swinging from each one, I was constantly reminded of their presence. I struggled in the stocks, pulling at my wrists and my spread ankles, but was only rewarded with more painful swinging from the clamps and the confirmation of my utter helplessness. I suffered, and awaited my Master’s pleasure.

He left the room. For some minutes, I was alone with my pain and humiliation. I remained bent over at a ninety-degree angle, my wrists, neck and spread ankles all confined by the stocks. I struggled at times, cried at other times, but always returned to the reality of the wood and steel that held me. The pain was relentless, defeating. At first, I felt I could not survive it. Later, with the passage of time, I realized I could and would survive, that I would have to. The humiliation came and went as well; Sometimes I would try futilely to close my legs, while at other times my submissive desires and urges responded, feeling fulfilled at my exposure, even at my Master’s come which continued to drip from my ass and down my legs. Eventually, I realized all of it, the pain, the humiliation, the exposure and the helplessness, came from my Master’s hand. It was his desire to enslave me and use me, and he was aroused by it. It then occurred to me that he would again fuck me in the ass before releasing me. I found that I desired it, that I wanted to be seen, touched, used, tortured, punished and bound by his hand, because it pleased him and aroused him. And that aroused me, as well. My cunt started juicing up again, and I realized he would see it as soon as he returned.

He did return. He circled me once, examining me in detail, even caressing me. He noted my renewed arousal with approval, smiling. Then, wordlessly, he sat down, read for awhile and ate a light snack as he watched me suffer.

More time passed. My bones ached from their long confinement, while the pain from my clamps continued to build. For a time, it seemed the pain caused my arousal to rise with it, until a peak was reached. When that peak passed, my arousal faded somewhat, while the pain continued to grow. Master Ivan must have been watching for that point, because he chose that moment to rise and come to me again.

I moaned fearfully as he stood at my ass. Suddenly, he swung his hand, spanking me hard, once on each cheek of my ass. “Wake up, slut! Time to serve your Master again!”

I screamed with the pain, both from his slaps and from the renewed swinging of the clamps hanging from my nipples and cuntlips. In a second, he was at my face, his semi-erect cock pointing at my mouth.

“Suck me hard!”

I obeyed, even opening my throat to him as his erection quickly returned. I found myself wanting, desperately needing, to impress and please him with my submission. As he withdrew from my mouth, I even smiled at him, in spite of the pain I was suffering and would continue to suffer.

This time, with my ass already opened, there was no need for him to hesitate. He buried himself in my ass completely on the first stroke, as I screamed in both pleasure and pain. I continued to cry out, as each successive stroke hit hard against my clamped labia, and shook my body, moving all the clamps and setting their weights swinging. Now, I did not rebel against the pain, but invited it, welcomed it as his gift to me.

“Please Master, whip me as you fuck my ass!”

He did. Without a pause, he pulled out a leather thong from his pocket and used its length to welt my asscheeks. I screamed on every stroke, wanting more. Finally, he exploded into orgasm.

I did not come, yet I felt almost as fulfilled as if I did. My arousal remained at a peak, and so did my pain.

He withdrew. Moments later, I opened my eyes to see his soiled cock again demanding entrance to my mouth to be cleaned. I opened joyfully, inviting the deep humiliation of the act as I had welcomed the pain earlier. I cleaned him completely, licking and sucking him dutifully until not a trace of my ass or his come remained. I smiled at him.

He smiled back; then, to my surprise, he added more weights to each of my clamps. I didn’t understand at first, as the smile left my face and my suffering rose an order of magnitude. I looked at him, wordlessly asking, “Why?” He answered only, “I find you enjoyable this way.” He resumed his seat and lit a cigarette. For the ten minutes he took to smoke, he watched me suffer. Then, he rose, released my clamps, and finally freed me from the stocks.

We went to his couch, where he caressed me gently, soothing my sore flesh where the clamps had tortured me. Soon, my arousal returned, and I found myself moving a hand down towards my cunt.

He caught me at it and, smiling, handcuffed my wrists behind my back again. Once more, I was left bound, aroused, helpless and exposed to him. Now, I was beginning to love the feeling.

Frequently, he would deny me orgasm, especially after I initialed the line listing “Chastity Belt”. Even more significantly, one of the chastity belts he had utilized a screen in front, with straps crossing my asscheeks instead of covering my anus. In that belt, I could use the toilet whenever necessary, as well as having my ass available for his pleasure, but I could not touch my cunt. Now, whenever I left his presence to return home, I would be locked into that belt, thus giving him complete control over my right to orgasm.

I grew with my enslavement in many ways. I found myself desiring my Master’s firm hand constantly, now equating it with my pleasure. And I desired pleasure constantly. Under his control, my clothes evolved to the point where I never wore pants, never wore skirts longer than mid-thigh, and wore only shirts and blouses which showed most of my cleavage and displayed my perpetually erect nipples explicitly. I no longer wore bras unless they left my aureoles uncovered, and those few times I put on panties, they would have only a string to cover my ass. More and more, I realized myself to be an owned girl, and my Master took pride in displaying me as his slut.

My punishments grew, and so did my ability to endure them. Now, he could use all his whips, paddles and canes, with no restrictions on what parts of my body received the strokes, aside from the obvious safety considerations. He whipped me regularly, sometimes only on his whim, seldom leaving my ass or breasts without marks. Often, I would be suspended by wrists or ankles for a whipping, then left hanging for an hour or more afterward. Or he would clamp my nipples, with the most brutal clamps available. He would add several ounces of weights to the clamps, then require me to serve as his maid, without restraints, serving him drinks, cooking, cleaning his house, all while enduring the torturous clamps. I suffered, yet all the pain aroused me further, constantly proving to me that I was owned.

He used me sexually without restriction. My mouth was his favorite, as I sucked him off at least once a day, sometimes more. My ass was his second choice, especially when he kept me denied in my chastity belt. He did use my cunt as well, bringing me incredible pleasure when he did so, although I had to perform perfectly to earn that pleasure.

Soon, I found the list had dwindled to one last item, the one allowing him to share me with others at will. It had been a couple of weeks since I had last signed off on the list; now, he could use or abuse me himself in literally any way he wanted. My signing off that last item would not only allow others to enjoy my enslavement, but would make the entire arrangement, as the contract stated, “...permanent and irrevokable”.

We sat in his living room. While I normally knelt at his feet, naked or nearly naked, in collar and chains, this time he allowed me to sit beside him in a bathrobe, with no leather or steel locked upon my body. I knew it was a sign that something of import was to take place.

“I’m having visitors tonight. At this time, you have granted me every possible right to use you as my total slave, excepting that of sharing you with other people. I would like to hand you over to my guests, to be used for their pleasure, but I will do so only if you surrender that last right.”

I shuddered. The idea turned me on tremendously, multiplying all the arousal I already gained from my enslavement with the potential to experience it all from several men, even from other women if Master so decreed. Added to that was the implication that once committed, I would no longer be permitted to withdraw. I was torn, half of me in fear, the other half yearning to increase and intensify my submission.

I stood, shed my robe, and knelt naked before him as a slave.

“Master, it is hard to decide. I want to so much, yet I fear the loss of the last of my freedom. Please, put me in severe bondage. Punish me; use me if you will. I must face this head-on if I am to make the right choice.”

He granted my request quickly. Minutes later, I hung upside-down, suspended by my wide-spread ankles. My nipples bore weighted clamps, my ass was filled with a large plug, and Master stood near me, his cock driving into my throat, as he freely whipped my flesh from my thighs to my breasts. Soon, with most of my body reddened under the lash, he concentrated the whipstrokes on my opened cunt.

The new pain increased my suffering by an order of magnitude. Already, I was tortured by my inverted suspension, my clamped nipples, the whip falling upon my flesh, my filled ass and the fucking of my mouth and throat. Now, I felt saturated by the pain, and it showed no signs of letting up. Soon, I began to taste the pre-ejaculate oozing from his cockhead into my mouth, and the humiliation of my abuse took hold as well. It was at about that moment that I noticed the change, a change I had experienced before at the hands of my Master.

The pain continued, unabated. Now, though, I felt my arousal building, catching up with the pain. My cunt began juicing up, closely watched by my Master’s eyes, and I soon felt the juice cushioning the blows of the cat. Indeed, I realized he might whip me to orgasm.

“It is said that only a submissive slut grows aroused under the whip, and that only a true slave can come under the lash.”

I proved him correct. Moments later, I went into a full-blown orgasm, a powerful slave orgasm. Now, as I groaned shamelessly in pleasure-pain, and as his cock emptied itself in my throat, I knew myself to be in a slave’s version of paradise. I no longer wished freedom, or even to be released from my current torture.

He spoke to me once again: “Well, young lady. Shall we end the experiment, return your clothes and send you on your way?”

I groaned, still deep in my slave heat. “No, Master. Please, only free my right hand for a moment, so I may sign my name to the contract one last time. And then, grant me one more request, if it would please you.”

“Yes, slut?”

“I notice that your cock and balls are covered with a great deal of sweat. If you could move closer once again, I could lick them clean for you.”

One minute later, the contract was signed. I would be his total slave, permanently and irrevokably.

Ten minutes later, his cock, balls and ass-crack were immaculate, under the devoted work of my lips and tongue.

Thirty minutes later, he emptied his second load down my throat, as I continued to hang, clamped and tortured.

His friends, four men, did visit that night. I sucked them all, twice each, naked, chained, under the whip. I was kept bound throughout the visit, used constantly, tortured frequently, and I was aroused he entire time as well, although I was not permitted an orgasm.

Later that night, alone with my Master, I hung by my wrists in the bedroom, my ankles spread, my toes barely grazing the floor. I was in that paradoxical slave ecstacy of pleasure-pain, aroused, denied, in moderate pain, looking into the frowning face of my owner.

“You served well tonight, cunt.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Still, your service was less than perfect.”

Now, I worried. I feared more punishment, especially when Master brandished a cat-o-nine tails before me. My fear manifested in the way it usually did in these circumstances, with the opening of my cunt and the increase of my flow of juice.

“I’m sorry, Master. Please punish your slave.”

It seems that one of the men who fucked my throat, late in the second round, discovered my mouth to be tiring, as he noted the relaxation in pressure from my lips and a lessening of efforts from my tongue. To aid me in remembering proper cocksucking techniques, Master installed a ring-gag in my mouth, one which forced my mouth to remain wide open. He then strapped in a cock-gag.

“A reminder, slut. When a Master fucks your mouth, you’re supposed to accept his cock, open to his thrusts into your throat, and use your lips and tongue to increase his pleasure. Failure to serve properly always earns punishment.”

I shuddered as he swung. Six hard strokes fell on my ass, followed by six more to my back, my breasts and my cunt, for a total of two dozen. I screamed around the rubber cock in my mouth on every stroke. When the final strokes rose into my cunt, I again felt the arousal, as the whip itself brought me to the brink of orgasm.

Master smiled at me, knowing. He caressed my body, now drenched in sweat, raising my heat still further.

“To earn pleasure, a slave must first please her Master. Failing that, she must submit to whatever training and punishment her Master deems appropriate.”

Within me, I knew my punishment would continue, my heat would remain denied. It was, to me, much the same as that brief moment before an orgasm in which one’s body feels ready to explode, anticipating the pleasure. In this case, however, my chains allowed that moment to continue indefinitely. I didn’t know if it was heaven or hell, but I did not want it to end.

“You’ll hang another hour, then suck me off again. Serve well, and your chastity belt will use only the small butt-plug.”

I smiled. Unfortunately, the rubber cock filling my mouth denied me the ability to show my smile. It was, however, quite proper. After all, my body is no longer mine. It belongs totally to my Master who, in owning me, freed my spirit and made me the happiest woman in the world.

...And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Master Ivan

Copyright © 1994
Master Ivan Press