Slave Dance by Master Ivan

[mrivan]

Slave Dance

by Master Ivan

Roman’s slave, Annie, was a rank beginner, but one with the right spirit. She wore her chains well, moved gracefully, got wet from being either bound or whipped and served with devotion in whatever manner her Master required. Roman had brought her along patiently, teaching her how to speak, move, serve and endure abuse all with the spirit of pleasing her Master. And now, she herself had further ideas on how to bring Roman more pleasure.

“Master, I’d love to learn how to dance for you! If you enrolled me in a belly dancing course, we could make some costumes from silk, or from leather and light chains, and I could dance for you every night!”

It was a reasonable request, one geared toward her servitude. It was also delivered without any major breach of slave-protocol, so it would merit no punishment. Still...

“An admirable idea, slut. I might indeed enjoy having you dance for me. But the commercial courses only teach so much of the true spirit of belly dance. Such dances in their original forms were done by Arab slavegirls, under the threat of punishment. Only under the whip could true belly dance be taught. In a school, it becomes merely a fun thing, tantalizing, but with the arrogance of a free woman who would never have to back up the claims of her dance with the availability of her body.”

“Master, what you say makes some sense to me, but I don’t fully understand.”

“Think of yourself as such a dancer in a school. As you move, you thrust out your hips, perhaps wave your tits to arouse a man watching you. But you smile as you do so, knowing he will not touch you. You now have power and control over the man and use such power to make him feel helpless as he gazes at you.”

“Yes, Master, I see. But what would the true belly dancer do differently?”

“She is her Master’s property. She dances not on her own whim, but under the threat of the lash. She is trained to be available to arouse her Master, but also do it in a truly submissive way, until it becomes second nature to her. She does not attack her Master with her sensuality but allows it to wash over him, caressing him, giving as much as he wishes to take, but no more. And she dances, ultimately, to offer herself for his use, for his pleasure. She truly dances for him, not for herself.”

Annie was silent, contemplative. She was naked and kneeling, as she usually was when they talked at home. Her knees were spread several inches wider than the twelve inches required of her, her wrists were crossed behind her back as if bound, and she was careful to keep her back straight, her shoulders back and her breasts thrust out proudly, available for his touch. She thought for a long time, then said, “Sometimes its hard, Master. I try to be submissive, yet the act of trying itself somehow gets in the way. I’m close to understanding something important here, but I don’t know what it is.”

Roman smiled. “You do very well, slut. But you’ve only been a slave for a few months. Be patient. As long as I don’t subject you to the more severe punishments, you’ll know you’re performing acceptably well. But to show you more, we’re going to visit a friend of mine tomorrow, one who has a great deal of experience in these things. In the meantime, ...”

As she tried to think of who he could be talking about, he tugged her forward with a pull on her leash.

“Suck me to orgasm, Annie, and show me what you’ve learned in our talk tonight!”

He pulled her mouth onto his cock. Instantly, she was sucking him hungrily, deep into her throat. She maintained her posture perfectly, keeping her wrists crossed behind her and her knees properly spread. Still, she was aggressive in her cocksucking, not allowing him to pace his own pleasure. She was progressing well, but had a way to go. He did not allow her an orgasm and locked her into her chastity belt until the following evening, when they came to my place for dinner.

They arrived at eight PM. My own current slave in residence, Nikki, greeted them on her knees, then took Roman’s coat and Annie’s cape, smiling when she saw the girl’s naked body beneath it, her wrists already locked behind her back.

Nikki was a beautiful, vivacious Asian girl whom I had met at a party. Her bloodline originated in places like Burma, Cambodia and Sri Lanka, and the lines of her body seemed to read, “Please fuck me!” in any language. She had practically thrown herself at my feet at the party, and she took to training like a duck to water. Her most frequent punishments came from doing too much rather than too little, and I had to sometimes force her to stop sucking my cock.

She served cocktails, then dinner. Both slaves then remained chained and kneeling and were fed by their respective Masters. We then hung both slaves by their wrists, hoisted up on tip-toe, as we enjoyed cigars.

“So tell me, Roman. You mentioned a question around slave training that you wanted to ask. What can I do for you?”

“It has to do with slave dancing. I wish to train Annie to dance for me, but aside from belly dancing lessons, we haven’t come up with any useful ideas. I know the principles and ideals, but I thought you could help with methods.”

I smiled. Indeed, I had been training Nikki intensively in this area, and a demonstration was in order.

“Come with me; we can give the slut Annie her first lesson together!”

We each approached our respective slaves. Their wrists were lowered enough to allow their heels to rest on the floor again, then lowered further another few inches.

“Watch me, Roman, and do as I do.”

I slipped a finger between Nikki’s cuntlips. Roman did the same with Annie. Not moving ourselves, the two girls started moving against our fingers, stimulating themselves.

“What you see here, Roman, is the most basic movement of slave dance. Left alone, the cunts would eventually bring themselves off on our fingers.”

We waited a minute or two, until both girls were wet and approaching orgasms.

“Now, remove your hand.”

Both slaves moaned in frustration, pumping the air. At this stage, Nikki was simply displaying her arousal. Annie, more frustrated, moved hungrily, demandingly, wordlessly protesting her denial over the previous twenty-four hours.

“Observe their need. A poorly trained slave begs to be given pleasure, hungry for herself, unconcerned about her Master’s need. A truly submissive slave still displays her need, but begs to be used for her Master’s pleasure, knowing that to be her real fulfillment. The cunt Nikki is not fully trained, but she has come far enough for you to see the difference.”

Roman did see. Annie was angry, frustrated, rebellious. Nikki drew the eye, almost drawing us like a sluttish magnet. While Annie was demanding for herself, Nikki was inviting, for us.

“Point made and noted, Ivan. Proceed!”

“The next stage uses real penetration, in what is traditionally called the ‘Stimulation Post’. They are taught to stimulate themselves to a point short of orgasm, opening to a dildo, while arousing and inviting their Masters rather than selfishly serving their own needs.”

I moved in two dildos that were mounted on floor stands. Their heights were adjustable, and we set them for only an inch of penetration. By hanging low from their wrists, they could add several more inches at will.

I produced a pair of well-made quirts, giving one to Roman. “Use it gently on your slut, stimulating her erotic centers. It will help her to connect pleasure, pain and submission. When she grows selfish and demanding, use it to punish.”

We took position at our respective slaves. I then put on some mideastern music and commanded, “Dance!”

Both slaves started moving again. Nikki was graceful, aware of the effects she had on both Roman and myself. Still, she also manifested a demand, an insistent hunger at times. I alternated between light, stimulating whipstrokes to her breasts, and harder, punishing blows to her ass and thighs when her demand grew too obvious.

Roman had more ground to cover with Annie but handled her well. She tried to drop heavily onto her dildo, even begging verbally at times. Roman corrected her with sharp strokes to her inner thighs and struck at her belly when her thrusts became too forced. Soon, she started moving more gracefully, the conflict gone from her slave-heat and presented a much more arousing picture. We allowed them several more minutes for the exercise, then removed the dildos, much to the ill-concealed frustration of both cunts. It was time for the next stage.

“They must be shown regularly that serving our pleasure often involves no pleasure for them, sometimes even some pain. Now, we re-insert the dildos, but this time in their asses, and to a substantial depth.”

I set Nikki’s dildo to a depth of a full eight inches in her ass. Roman’s slave did well to take six inches, and both sluts showed some discomfort. I addressed them both myself.

“Now, you will both dance again, but only for your Masters’ pleasure. Remember, as your asses are fucked, that it is our pleasure you serve, not yours. Many times you might be required to serve for days on end, sometimes painfully, while denied pleasure yourselves. if you cannot serve well under any circumstances, whether under punishment or being pleasured, you are not yet true slaves.” I started the music again, and once more commanded, “Dance!”

The whips were brought into play once again, with Roman focusing on Annie’s tits whenever she winced at the pain from her fucked ass. Soon, again, both slaves grew aroused and displayed their heat quite well through their dancing. Finally, we ended the exercise. I released Nikki; Roman left Annie in place, her ass still filled.

I brought Nikki forward and told her, “You’ve done well, slut. Now, you will show Roman what you have learned. Perform the ‘Dance of the Slave in Heat’! ”

As Roman seated himself on the couch, I put on the appropriate music, then joined him.

Nikki dove into her role, putting everything into the dance we had choreographed together. She started with gentle undulations of her entire body, caressing her nipples, displaying all for our pleasure. She worked up quite a sweat, until her body glistened. As required, her fingers approached, but never touched, her cunt, although she did retrieve some of the juice which soon trickled down her thighs, licking and sucking it off her own fingers. She even penetrated her own ass with two fingers, licking them clean afterwards. Finally, working herself up to a frenzy of desire, she collapsed on her spread knees at our feet, and as the music ended, begged, “Please, Masters, use your slut!”

We did. After locking her wrists behind her, I used her ass, allowing Roman her throat to fuck. Throughout, Annie remained chained, her ass filled, her need obvious. After Nikki finished sucking off Roman, she orally cleaned my own cock. Then, Roman reattached Annie’s chastity belt and re-locked her wrists behind her back.

“Thank you, Ivan, for a most enjoyable demonstration.”

“Anytime, Roman. Perhaps I’ll visit you again in a few weeks and check in on your progress.”

Roman kept Annie locked in her chastity belt that night and through most of the next week. The only exception was when she danced. Twice a day, he chained her hands overhead, removed her belt, applied the standing dildo and allowed her to dance. At first, she was wanton, trying desperately to get a badly needed orgasm on the post. She suffered much under the whip and frequently went denied, forced to suffer the dildo in her ass. After a few days, though, she began to learn. Her movements became more graceful, sensuous, stimulating both her and her Master without demand. By the end of the first week, she performed well enough to go on to the next stage.

Her hands remained locked together, but they were held high by Annie’s own volition. Now, she was free to move at will and circled the floor, spinning, displaying her body in a multitude of ways, all while holding her wrists high over her head. Soon, she performed without restraints altogether and was rewarded every evening with Roman’s permission to mount the dildo and pleasure herself.

Roman called me periodically for advice on dance themes as they began to choreograph dances for Annie. He also checked in with a few other Masters he knew for their input. Soon, they worked out several dances which could truly be called Annie’s own.

There was the “Dance of the Slave in Denial”, in which she displayed her wanton heat while denied pleasure and ended with sucking her Master’s cock. There was a variation on the “Whip Dance”, where she invites the lash on her flesh. There was the “Flame Dance”, featuring a pair of candles mounted at an angle. She would dance holding her breasts above them, bearing the heat of the flames, as well as moving beneath them to catch the falling wax on her flesh. As she danced, she had to constantly watch the wax as it melted. If any drops struck the floor, she would earn a punishment.

One more unique dance began with some thongs tied to her body at neck, elbows, wrists and ankles. She would dance challenging her Master to bring her under control. As the dance progressed, the Master would pick the thongs up one at a time, and Annie would turn her body, slowly binding herself. At the dance’s end, her breasts would be tightly wrapped, her body bound in a hog-tie.

Soon, Annie danced so well, even the music itself would arouse her. The simple act of holding her wrists together over her head got her juices flowing. She learned to control her arousal, and soon she danced in perfect submission with none of the demand of an untrained slut. Roman now knew, she was ready. He called me, and we set up a date for me to visit him.

Roman had kept Annie in her chastity belt for several days running, to build up her heat. Within the belt, on alternate days, he locked a large dildo into her ass to keep her open and stimulated; on the remaining days, he used straps crossing her asscheeks with needlepoints. This effectively made it impossible for her to sit and greatly enhanced her submissiveness, forcing her to either stand, kneel or lie down. Indeed, by the time I paid my visit, she was greatly improved.

I arrived at sunset with my own newest slave in tow. Angelica was a small girl, petite but full breasted, with the tightest ass I had ever fucked. She was a fiery Latino, who loved to defy and challenge my mastery over her, while the whip itself always got her hot. Indeed, she would frequently come to orgasm simply by being whipped on the ass, and I had taken to using restraint for her more severe punishments. Even now, she made the trip to Roman’s hog-tied naked in the trunk of my car, gagged and plugged, and with a punishment bra and corset, both lined with needlepoints, tightened severely around her body.

Parking in Roman’s garage, I freed her ankles, then led her in on her knees. I waited until we got to the living room before I removed her gag. I next removed her plug, which she then licked clean as we watched. Finally, I introduced her.

“She’s my newest acquisition, in full training for about a month now. She’s quite hot, both to the whip and to servicing the pleasure of anyone I command, but she’s still sorely lacking in discipline.”

As Roman watched, Angelica pouted. A totally unwarranted frown crossed her face, and she blurted out, “Master, I’ve been good!”

All three of us smiled in understanding; not in sympathy with her, but in full understanding that her words had earned her a punishment.

“Slave! You’ve spoken without permission, contradicted your Master and done so while already under punishment!” She shuddered in response, her wrists locked behind her back, the punishment bra and corset already torturing her flesh. To try to salvage her position, she knelt “To the whip”, with knees spread to their extreme, her back arched, her breasts and right cheek to the floor, her ass displayed, inviting punishment. “Please Master, punish your insolent slave!”

It was good, but it was also a good ploy. I knew the whip would probably drive her straight to orgasm. moving to the nearest wall, I released a rope and lowered a hook from a pulley directly over her head until it was inches above her shackled wrists at the small of her back. As I returned to her, she steeled herself, expecting a crop or cane to burn into her ass. I merely raised her shackled wrists an inch and attached them to the hook.

Now, she looked up, alarmed. Aware of her prior error, she simply pleaded, “Master, please!”

I hoisted her up to her limits, knowing she would be in pain. I then spoke to her. “Slut, you’ve earned a good half-dozen demerits, and you’ll pay them off right now. In the position in which you’re bound, it will take three hours.” I paused a second for effect. Very cooperatively, she moaned in fear.

“Of course, if you were to respectfully beg for some severe nipple clamps, with weights attached, we could cut it down to an hour and a half.” Again, she moaned. Her tits could take the clamps, but it was a punishment she feared and avoided when she could.

“...And if you were also to beg for a dozen strokes with a cat-o-nine tails on your tits, before they’re clamped, we’d be done in only an hour.”

Now, she shuddered visibly, understanding the gravity of her offense. She swallowed once, grimaced a bit at the pain already present in her tortured arms and shoulders, then begged, “Please, Master, punish your slave with a dozen hard strokes with the cat on my tits, then clamp my nipples with your most severe clamps, with full weights, and leave me until it pleases you to release me.” Having made her request, she hung her head, defeated, and suffered in her bonds, awaiting her fate.

“Roman, why don’t we make her breast-whipping a team effort?” I offered him a second cat, and we took position; Roman took her left side while I stood at her right. We swung together, lashing the sensitive undersides of her tits. They were well-presented for the strokes, with her arms still hoisted high behind her back. Her screams confirmed the efficacy of the blows, and we enjoyed the way she shook her breasts as she worked off the pain, inviting the following strokes. We finished quickly, drawing screams on every stroke, finally leaving her shaking, bathed in sweat. When she opened her eyes a moment later, she saw me standing in front of her holding the clamps.

I declined the use of the most severe clamps available, choosing instead to use the large, lever-operated type, heavy but adjustable. I applied them, with only medium pressure, noting the absence of any protests beyond a few deep, fearful moans. Indeed, she had already learned her lesson. Pleased, I nevertheless hung four ounces of weights from each clamp. Looking into her pained eyes, I said, “One hour!” I then turned away and walked back to join Roman on the couch.

With Angelica dealt with for the moment, we returned to the couch where Annie, in perfect form, served cocktails.

“Her progress has been impressive”, Roman began, “And I must say your methods have been very successful. Annie’s just as much of a slut as she ever was, if not more so, but her demand is gone.”

“True, I can see it in her already. The demand comes, in part, from the slave’s feeling that she still has some control. When she is denied pleasure without a pattern and without cause, she strives to get any pleasure she can in any way available. But when the Master’s control is apparent and enforced at all times, not only in denying her pleasure, but in forcing it upon her at times and in ways that he chooses, she much more quickly surrenders to his control, knowing that her needs will be cared for, and that when she is denied, it is his wish. We all seek freedom, both consciously and subconsciously and recognize that drive. What we don’t recognize is the parallel drive deep in the mind that seeks the opposite: to submit, to surrender control, to be enslaved. Awaken that drive in your slave, and she is yours.”

“I agree completely, Ivan. But what of the rebellious slave, like Angelica there, who submits with half of her mind but fights hard with the other half?”

“A slave can only win if the Master lets her. And if she desires enslavement, you ally with her heart by controlling her rebellious side. Reward her submission, but never fear to punish her rebellion; her submissive side will flourish. Punish her cruelly when necessary, then reward her for her devotion. Soon, instead of rebelling against her Master, she will see you as her ally against her own rebellion.”

We ate buffet-style, with Annie continuing to serve. We fed her as she knelt, while we all watched Angelica suffer in punishment. She swayed slightly in her bondage: she’d move forward to relieve the pressure on her spine, then back again when her tortured shoulders felt the pain from her wrists hoisted high behind her. Throughout, the weights hanging from her nipple clamps swung gently, inflicting a constant burn. She would forego dinner tonight, and knew it; she would not be permitted to eat while in punishment. Now, there was no trace of rebellion. She simply accepted her punishment and suffered its pain. I knew that in a few weeks, this approach, coupled with frequent rewards of pleasure, would have her starving for ever-greater submission.

We spent the hour of Angelica’s punishment eating dinner, then we released her. We did keep her wrists shackled behind her back. She pleased me greatly as she dropped to her knees, saying, “Thank you, Master, for punishing your insolent slave. Please do with me as you will.” She left it at that, simple, not demanding even her use, which I knew she desired.

The time had arrived for Annie’s grand performance. They had worked out an elaborate dance which centered its attention on her pierced and ringed nipples and labia. Tentatively, they would call it simply “The Bell Dance”, although it probably deserved more.

On the slave’s part, it would be demanding. She would be required to watch her posture, move her feet gently and endure regular pain while constantly offering those parts of her body which most attracted Roman and myself.

In preparation, a large roll of delicate white paper was brought out. Annie used a bit of tape and covered a section of the floor with the paper in a square measuring about fifteen feet on a side. Roman brought out a bag containing some spherical brass bells. Carefully, he distributed the bells all over the paper surface.

I watched with interest, knowing that Annie had been pierced in both her nipples and labia within the past two months. She was well-healed, but I suspected that the bells might soon hang from her rings, causing their own unique brand of pain. I also noted that each bell had a short hook at its top and a loop at its base.

Annie stood naked and unbound on the edge of the paper, facing out towards us. On the floor, just off the paper, was a burning torch and two short, black candles. The music started, a slow, delicate, erotic melody, during which Annie knelt, bowed to us both, then picked up the two candles and lit them, holding their bottoms in the palms of her hands. She then rose, stepped back to the center of the paper and stood, the candles held out to either side. Roman only then explained the dance to me.

“She will start by offering her breasts to the candles’ flames. Soon, as the wax starts to drip, she will move the candles over her chest, arching her back and allowing the falling wax to land on her tits. We use the black candles and white paper to ensure no drops fall to the floor. At the conclusion of the dance, if there is any wax on the paper, her breasts will be whipped.”

“Amazing! It sounds quite exotic. But, what about the bells?”

“There are twenty of them. As she dances, she will periodically lower her body to them, picking them up by the rings on her tits and cunt. She ends the dance with five bells hanging from each of her rings.”

As Roman talked, Annie passed the candle flames under her breasts several times. She was told not to begin her other movements until her breasts bore their first drops of wax.

She soon caught the beginnings of her self-inflicted hot wax torture, right on her pierced nipples. With that, she started oscillating, turning, winding back and forth across the square, eventually beginning to dip low with various parts of her body, feinting at the bells. She had to step carefully to avoid the bells. A fall, which would spill wax on the paper and earn her the breast whipping, would be a minor catastrophe. Just as bad, if she accidentally kicked a bell off the paper square, she would be bound with all the bells hanging from her rings for several hours.

In moments, she had successfully scooped her first bells. Each nipple, and each cunt lip, now hung lower from the weight of the bells, and each move caused them to swing, ringing, adding her own painful music to the show. The wax continued to drip as she did loops, warming the undersides of her breasts, her belly and inner thighs with the flames, but never failed to catch every drop of wax with her quickly blackening tits.

Her movements were very stimulating to the eye. Each time she turned, it caused her to expose one or another part of her body in a provocative way. The presence of the burning candles in her hands was a de facto prohibition against her covering herself. Similarly, as her cuntal rings each supported two, then three bells, they opened her cunt, exposing her most private secrets in a way that caused her growing pain while it drew the eyes of her audience. Each time she offered her breasts to the wax, she had to arch her body, again stretching her flesh and exciting the eye. And throughout, she danced under the threat of severe punishment for any wax that fell and any bells kicked aside.

I noted her movements were soft and gentle, not the wild, aggressive motions I normally expected with slave dances. I asked Roman about this.

“She must be taught grace, Ivan. In the far east, students of Kung Fu are taught to walk on rice paper, very thin and delicate, without leaving marks. It is difficult to learn, but teaches balance and control. Here, the paper is not quite so delicate, but if she abuses the right to place her feet on the floor by marking the paper, she will hang by her ankles.”

Yes, in spite of the pain from the wax and the hanging bells, she moved very slowly and carefully.

She now carried four bells from each ring. Her tits bore much of the wax, and the candles were now less than an inch high. The constant pain in her nipples and labia was written on her face, particularly when the bells rang. Still, she was required to make them ring regularly as she danced, and she continued to pass the flames beneath her most sensitive flesh every few seconds.

Her movements were highly exotic. The dance itself forced her to offer herself for both her own pain and our stimulation. Her breasts, covered with wax, begged for a touch as her nipples were tortured by the weighted rings. Her shaved labia, similarly pulled down several inches by the weight of the bells, opened her cunt to our eyes. She begged to be punished and used.

Soon, with five bells hanging from each ring, her candles burned down nearly to her palms. Slowly, she moved to a point directly in front of us, knelt, and then, with a painful moan, put out her candles by pressing them into the heavy coat of wax already built up on her breasts. She then crossed her wrists behind her back, and awaited our pleasure.

The music ended seconds later. “She’s lucky”, Roman explained. “Had she failed to extinguish the candles, have all the bells hanging from her rings and kneel as she has done, all without dropping wax or tearing the paper, her punishment would have been severe indeed!”

I was impressed, and told Roman so. We both were highly aroused, and it was time to take our pleasure with Annie. First, though, it occurred to me that Angelica’s labia seemed lonely, untouched.

“Roman, could you get me another set of clamps and weights?”

“Certainly!”

I took them to Angelica, also bringing the belled Annie with me. As my slave fearfully noted my approach, I told her, “Look at this well-trained slut. See the bells she carries in her rings, without a whimper or complaint. She holds her wrists behind her back, offering herself, even in the midst of her pain, knowing she will soon serve the pleasure of both Masters. In the meantime, you hang whining in punishment, in considerably less pain, your own cunt untouched.”

She looked back, guiltily, beginning to learn. “I’m sorry, Master.”

I held the weighted clamps before her. “Are you that much less-trained than Annie?”

It was clear what I wanted. For once, she understood the lesson. “Master, please clamp my cuntlips. I’m sure it will teach me a needed lesson, as well as bringing you more pleasure.”

I hung the clamps, pleased at the way they pulled down her labia several inches, opening her cunt. She groaned in clear pain, but succeeded in smiling, and saying, “Thank you, Master.”

Returning to the couch, I observed that Roman had handcuffed Annie’s wrists behind her back as she knelt before him. As I joined him, he told her, “Suck us to orgasm together. You will have us come in your mouth as close together as possible. For every second that separates our orgasms, you will receive a stroke of the cat on your ass, before your bells are removed. Begin!”

She began with my own cock, deep-throating me sensuously with gentle caresses with lips and tongue. Her training had clearly brought her to the point where she truly took pleasure from sucking cock, particularly while restrained and in the midst of a painful ordeal. After a dozen strokes of her mouth, she shifted to Roman’s cock, pleasing him with equal skill.

She alternated between us, never resting her mouth. Her awareness of our arousal gave evidence of much skill derived from hours of practice. Subtle things like the angle of her head and throat, the presentation of her body, the positioning of her lips and tongue during her strokes, even a slight protrusion of her jaw at the bottom of each stroke to add to the stimulation of the balls; she was a scholar of cocksucking, as talented as any slave I had ever trained. Even the heavy bells still hanging from her ringed nipples and labia were gently rung on each stroke, clearly by intent, in spite of the pain it added to her ordeal.

My own current trainee was equally effected. As she watched Annie’s skilled performance, Angelica first showed a hint of jealousy on her face, but that clearly changed to arousal after only a few minutes. Her cunt, already opened by her clamps, soon began moistening, and her clitoris became visibly erect. Now, I could tell, she wanted to perform the same service, and would endure more pain for the privilege. I whispered an idea to Roman, who smiled in agreement.

Soon, we were ready to come. Roman commanded Annie, “Don’t swallow our come! Hold it in your mouth!”

As Roman and I moved together, almost touching cocks, Annie rapidly switched her mouth back and forth between us, and we did indeed fill her mouth almost simultaneously with both our loads, losing only a few drops to her chest.

We brought her to the hanging Angelica. I ordered my slave, “Open your mouth!” She obeyed, and Annie, obeying Roman’s command, spit her mouthful of come into and around Angelica’s mouth.

She moaned in humiliation, but after a severe look from me, swallowed. I further ordered her, “Now, slut, lick Annie’s face clean!” She obeyed, degrading herself further, thoroughly cleaning Annie’s face, neck, even picking up the few drops from her wax-encrusted tits. Her own face now dripped with our come, and she would be unable to clean herself.

I gently lowered Angelica’s wrists, leaving them locked behind her back. Bringing her to her knees, I told her, “You have not yet earned the right to suck our cocks. You have, however, earned the privilege of sucking off Roman’s slave.”

She crawled forward on her knees to Annie, and soon began licking the girl’s cunt. She had to be cautious, working around the belled rings still torturing the other girl, but in a way it was easier, since her clitoris was blatantly exposed. Roman installed a ringed waist-belt on Annie, and I ran a strap from its rearmost ring to the front of Angelica’s collar, drawing her face forcibly into Annie’s cunt.

I sat with Roman on the couch, as we enjoyed another round of drinks and watched the girls. We gave them another ten minutes or so, during which Annie was brought to no less than three major orgasms. Angelica’s arousal also grew, although she would, I already decided, remain denied. And both girls still bore tortured nipples and labia: Annie from her belled rings, Angelica from her weighted clamps.

We released all their restraints except for their handcuffs, taking particular joy in their screams as the clamps and bells were finally removed. Annie was placed in a chastity belt and traded her cuffs in for a sirik, then was told to clean up after our refreshments. Angelica was also chastity belted, but with an anal plug. “When we return home, you’ll get to suck my cock again. If you’ve learned enough from watching a well-trained slave, perhaps you might even earn a pleasure for yourself!”

“Thank you , Master!”, she began. “I’ll serve you very well. After all, Master, only your pleasure is important.”

It sounded promising. Perhaps she did learn something, after all.

We made our goodbyes and went to his garage where my car was parked. Angelica, still naked and handcuffed, stood in anticipation. I could tell she had the desire to ride in the front seat with me. Smiling at her, I opened the trunk.

She frowned and said, “Master, please!”

I shook my head, disappointed, and said to Roman, “Maybe she hasn’t learned anything, after all.”

Realizing her error, Angelica knelt, her face at my feet. “Please Master, punish your selfish slave. I am only your property and have no right to be treated as anything more. Please lock me naked and bound in the trunk for my ride home, and make the bonds punishing enough to make me remember my place.”

Moments later, she was hogtied in the trunk. I added a tight wrap joining her elbows behind her, as well as a single strand wound tightly around each tit. Finally, to test her, I asked, “Slut, are your bonds punishing enough?” Her answer pleased me.

“Yes, Master. However, if you were to also clamp my nipples, I would be reminded of your hand every time we hit a bump.”

I added the clamps, tight ones. Fighting back a scream, she said, “Thank you, Master.”

I reached in and drew a finger once across her chastity belt, tracing the path of the plug and the leather which cut into her most sensitive area. She groaned deeply, then said, “Oh, thank you, Master!” I then slammed the truck closed.

Yes, she was a sensuous bitch. Although still a relatively novice slave, she would train well.

An hour and a half later, after I had driven home, parked, showered and refreshed myself, I returned to the garage and unlocked the trunk, releasing her. I removed her clamps, her elbow ropes and her ankle bondage, then led her into my bedroom.

She knelt on the floor by the side of my bed, clad only in collar, chastity belt and her wrist shackles, which I had left locked behind her. It was time to test what she had learned.

I poured myself a drink, then just walked around the room for awhile, observing her from time to time. She was a bit nervous, fearful, filled with anticipation about my current plans. Still, she was presented well. Her knees were spread wide, her back straight, her breasts thrust out proudly, waiting patiently for my command. I even noticed that her elbows drew together somewhat on their own, enhancing her exposure. I knew that to be intentional on her part, done for my pleasure. It would seem she did indeed learn something about the subtleties of deportment.

I put on some music appropriate to dancing. I laid down on the bed, and told her, “Please me!”

She was taken back for an instant. She could respond to such a command by dancing, or sucking my cock, or requesting an ordeal, or even preparing food or drink for me. Still, the choice was an obvious one, as she slowly began undulating her body as she knelt.

It started with her head. She closed her eyes and gradually began moving her head from side to side, sometimes appearing highly aroused, sometimes seeming to struggle from unseen forces. Slowly, the movements began to include more of her body, as her shoulders, breasts and later her shackled arms all joined her struggles. She moved gracefully, with the slow but well-defined intent of a Bali dancer, or perhaps a highly trained Geisha.

Her hips joined her dance, as she began to roll and pump her cunt. With the chastity belt locked upon her, I enjoyed seeing the leather straps periodically tighten into her flesh, especially knowing that the large butt-plug would be thrusting deeper within her ass on every move. I expected her to rise to her feet at any moment, but to my pleasure, she remained kneeling, eventually rolling to her back as she continued her slow, tantalizing undulations.

Again back to her knees, she lowered her upper body to the floor, displaying her ass in the most erotic fashion possible. She pumped the air, invitingly, her sore breasts rubbing painfully into the floor on her every move. The base of her anal plug was visible, also, in this pose, and I enjoyed watching it stroke her as her undulations continued. Soon, her juices were visible as they dripped out around the leather encasing her cunt. Her arousal was at a peak, and I decided to finish her ordeal in a way we would both remember.

She rose upright again on her knees and begged, “Please, Master, allow me to serve your pleasure.”

I smiled. I then rose, and picked out a cat-o-nine tails. Seating myself again on the bed, I told her, “It would please me to whip your tits. Present them to me!”

She knelt facing away from me, knees still spread wide. She then bent over backwards towards me, arching her back, until her head rested upon the floor at my feet. “Please Master, whip my tits, hard!”

She could not have done better. Her position was visually beautiful, ultimately submissive, and would present her tits not only in an easy position for me to whip them, but in a way which would cause the strokes to fall most heavily on the sensitive undersides of each breast. I swung, hard, starting with a fierce stroke to her right tit.

Her scream was intense, her back arched beautifully, and the flesh of her breast marked instantly. I followed the stroke quickly with another, to her left breast this time, and continued to alternate between both sides. On every stroke she screamed, her entire body straining in her severe arch. Amazingly, she held position for a full dozen strokes. Now, my own arousal was at a peak, and I intended to use her for my pleasure.

I had her kneel upright again, facing me. Using a short length of chain, I raised her wrists higher behind her, pulling them up towards her collar until they were well clear of her ass. Then I told her, “Suck me, slut!”

As her mouth encircled my cock and her throat opened to me, I brought the cat down hard on her ass. She moaned deeply with the pain, but still maintained a slow, sensuous motion with her mouth. I knew the pain was arousing her as well as torturing her, but she made no effort to either ease her punishment or rush my pleasure. She took several long seconds on each stroke, deep-throating my cock until her lips were firmly planted on my pubic bone every time. She even tipped her head back a bit, allowing me deeper penetration as well as gently nudging my balls with the tip of her chin. Throughout, I continued lashing her ass with the cat, and she groaned in pain on every stroke.

My orgasm neared, and I could tell the whip would probably be getting her off soon, as well. I took a firm hold of her hair with my left hand and pulled her hard onto my cock as I whipped her with my right. Her moans continued. Now, though, it seemed that pleasure and pain had come together completely in Angelica’s mind, as she moaned in ecstasy, even pulling against my hand in her hair to increase her pain.

Finally, I dropped the whip and used both my hands in her hair, pulling her mouth brutally onto my cock as my balls emptied themselves down her throat. And as she swallowed, she came herself, exploding into pleasure.

I collapsed onto the bed, while my slave fell back onto the floor, both of us exhausted. I looked down at her, her wrists still locked behind her and hoisted painfully half-way up to her collar. She still moved gently, her hips thrusting almost unperceptibly as she came down off her orgasm. Her legs were folded beneath her, her knees spread. She was the personification of the wanton slut, her body still begging for use. Her face glistened with sweat, and a drop of my come trickled down from one corner of her mouth.

I rose from the bed and walked to the wall where a rope ran up to a pulley above her. I lowered the rope, then attached it to the padlock at the front of her chastity belt. I then took two lengths of light chain and spread her ankles wide, attaching the chains to the bottom of the two bedposts on the side of the bed. She stirred as I did so, moaning her continuing need. I waited until her eyes opened, then hoisted up the rope.

I lifted her by the chastity belt until her opened crotch waved at me from two feet in the air. With her ankles chained wide and her wrists still chained high behind her back, she was painfully arched. The belt also thrust the large plug another inch deeper into her ass, bringing out an equally deep moan of frustration. I smiled, wordlessly, at her, enjoying the continued undulations of her confined cunt.

She looked at me pleadingly, suffering in both pain and renewed denial. I rose again and got out a candlestick, lit it, and placed it on the floor where it would illuminate her leather-bound cunt while warming her upper thighs. I then sat on the bed again, and addressed her.

“Angelica, you have learned a great deal tonight about Slave Dancing, but you have a long way to go.

“You know that a slave’s dance is supposed to present her body and arouse her Master, inviting her use. You also know that you must do so without demand. You know that your dance must offer you unconditionally, without reservations or limits, for whatever use a Master may require of you.

“But you have much more to learn. Ultimately, the dance must become a never-ending part of a slave’s life, wherein every move of the slave’s body must be erotically stimulating to her Master, inviting him, offering herself for his use. Further, the movements must be engrained in the depths of a slave’s being, so that she dances spontaneously, never by calculation. As such, it becomes a living art, where she expresses the deepest part of her heart with every move, and where her deepest desire is to submit to her Master.”

I continued to watch her opened cunt and ass in the candle’s light, their undulations increasing with her arousal.

“Only now are you truly dancing the dance of a slave girl. And tonight, you’ll dance for me all night, even as we both sleep.”

I turned out the other lights in the room, then got into bed. Laying on my side, I continued for some minutes to watch her leather-encased cunt and filled ass as they danced for my pleasure in the candlelight.

Soon, smiling, I shut my eyes and slept.

Master Ivan

Copyright © 1993
Master Ivan Press