Milovana.com

The Birthday Present


By Master Ivan



Ron and Diane had been married three and a half years. He was average in height and appearance, while she was blonde, stacked and a true bitch. Her bitchiness was to her credit though, as she was also strongly submissive, masochistic and, if possible, even more imaginative than her husband.

Ron had slowly brought her along, helping her to develop her submissive drives along lines that did well for both of them. While not leaving conventional sex behind, he frequently spanked her, tied her, denied her the use of clothes, demanded housework, dictated her sexual performance and punished her liberally for any shortcomings. Diane loved it all and made it clear to Ron that she wanted more.

An ideal opportunity occurred in late spring when Ron had a week's paid vacation offered to him. His birthday was approaching, falling on a Saturday. With Diane's enthusiastic approval, he took his vacation the week following his birthday.

Diane prepared a very special present for him. She greeted him Saturday morning in her favorite slavegirl outfit: a two piece bikini in shining black leather trimmed with chrome studs and removable cutouts over her nipples and cunt. She also wore a matching collar, wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs and black sandals with ankle straps and five inch heels.

She awakened him gently in her favorite fashion, with her mouth on his cock. She teased him sensuously, stimulating him, bringing him to the edge of orgasm, stopping only when he reached for her hair to force his way into her throat. She pulled back and said, "Save it, love. I think we're going to have a full day today and we'll both need our energy."

"A bit pushy this morning, aren't you?"

"But I've already got your cake ready, and I've prepared some wonderful presents for you!''

"Well, considering your efforts, I should show some appreciation. And considering your costume, slut, you had better be ready to play your role! I'll take breakfast here and now, and you can bring the quirt in with my food!"

She smiled, bowed and said, "Yes, Master!"

Minutes later, they shared breakfast. He ate in bed, she ate kneeling beside him on the floor. She brought his cake in, complete with a candle. After he opened several mundane presents, she handed him the envelope.

"So tell me, Diane. What is this?"

She smiled from her knees, hesitant. Then, she crossed her wrists behind her back. Holding them there, she spoke.

"Its my fantasy, Master. One that, if you'd like, will keep us totally occupied for the entire week. I've spent quite a bit of time and effort preparing it for you, and I sealed it last night, so I'd be bound by it now. It will explain itself."

He looked deep into her eyes, seeing the fire that burned there, noting that it started his own fires burning as well. She looked back at him for a time, then lowered her eyes deferentially, subtly pulling her shoulders back and separating her knees yet another inch. He opened the envelope and read:

"To Ron, my husband, love and Master-

"It is my fantasy to be held prisoner by you for a week, during which time you force me to reveal all my deepest fantasies. You keep me constantly exposed to your gaze, restrained in one way or another, subject to discipline and punishment for the slightest shortcoming, and always available to serve your every need, both your mundane needs and your wildest sexual needs as well. You never allow me sexual pleasure .unless I earn it, but keep me aroused and in need throughout the week. I sleep on the floor, or punished in the attic or the cellar, but never in your bed unless I earn that high privilege.

"My fantasies, seven of them in all, are carefully hidden in the house. You torture me to learn their locations. Each fantasy is an ordeal you put me through to force me to reveal the next.

"To get the location of the first fantasy, I imagine you stringing me up by my wrists and whipping me severely. You start with two dozen with the cane on my ass, then move on to other methods of your choice, leaving no part of my flesh untouched by the lash.

"I love you, Ron.

"For your present, I give myself to you.

"Diane"

He smiled. It was the kind of smile a Master smiles just before putting fear onto the face of a slave.

"So tell me, cunt. Where is the first fantasy?"

She held position, lowered her eyes, and remained silent. As control of the scene passed into Ron's hands irrevocably, Diane immediately buried herself in the role of the submissive captive. She radiated her arousal and excitement, tinged with a real fear of, what would be for her, a major acceleration of her enslavement.

Ron joined her wrists, then dragged her by the hair into the living room. Seconds later, she was hanging by her overhead wrists. He stood before her with the cane in hand and a collection of other weapons close by. "You will talk, cunt. Now, or later. Your choice." He looked into her eyes, pleading with him within her fantasy, but saying nothing. Of course, she knew well where all seven envelopes were located, but would not speak until she played out her scene.

He walked out and left her alone for twenty minutes.

When he returned, he held a ball gag. "One chance, bitch. Talk, or it will be the full two dozen before your next chance." She whimpered a bit, suffering in her semi-suspension, afraid, but remained silent. Ron smiled, and gagged her.

He picked up the cane and took position to her side. She stiffened in anticipation and did not wait long as the first stroke immediately landed. Her ass exploded in pain as she flexed every muscle in her body and screamed through her gag, convinced she had gone too far. As the second stroke hit, she looked at the smiling Ron, considering pleas for mercy, then realized--she could not speak through the gag. Short of losing consciousness, nothing would stop the cane.

She screamed on each and every stroke as he continued to pound away on her naked ass, raising a vivid welt on every stroke. When he finally stopped, she was thoroughly marked, drenched in sweat, and ready to do anything to stop the pain. Ron left the room.

She hung, suffering, for ten or fifteen minutes before Ron returned. He sat down with a cold drink and a cigarette and simply watched her as he relaxed. Diane was ready to beg for mercy, but he left her gagged for the moment. All she could do was hang, exposed. After another ten minutes or so, he rose, and removed her gag. "Talk, cunt. Where is the next envelope?"

She moaned, pleading wordlessly with her eyes. He allowed her only a few seconds of this before attaching chains to her ankle shackles and spreading her legs some three feet apart.

She screamed with the new pain as her body was lowered and now hung entirely by her wrists. Ron picked up his cat-o-nine tails and wound up.

He gave her half a dozen in quick succession. Two to her abdomen, two across her hips, two to her thighs. He waited for her screams to subside, then said "Talk!" Again, she moaned. "P-please..."

Six more strokes, to her backside now, starting at her shoulders and ending at her knees.

"Talk, cocksucker, or the next set goes to your tits and cunt!"

"Oh God, ple-e-ease!"

He swung hard. Three strokes to each breast. Her screams were the loudest yet, almost hysterical.

He began lining up on her cunt. "Ready yet, bitch?"

She stared back in fear. He swung hard, an upstroke, dead center on her widespread cunt. "Talk soon, whore, because I won't stop until you do!"

It took only a few more excruciating strokes before she caved in. "Please, Master, I'll talk!"

He stood before her, sweating himself, whip in hand. "Where is the first envelope?"

"Inside the air conditioner, b-behind the front panel."

Minutes later, he had the envelope. Only then did he slowly release her bonds, re-cuffing her hands behind her back and connecting her ankle shackles with a mere foot of chain. He had her kneel at his feet as he fingered the unopened envelope.

"The first of seven."

"Well, one of them, anyway, Master."

"Explain, slut!"

"Master, I didn't want to know what was coming, except for the opener, which you read today, and the last one. So I shuffled numbers one through six before hiding them. I remember what most of them contain, but I'll have no way of knowing which one you have until you open it."

They both smiled, devilishly, in full understanding. A moment later, her smile had drifted away, his remained.

"You've caused me trouble today, slut."

She lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry, Master."

"Its time for you to make up for it."

Her eyes looked up again, fearful, but with anticipation.

He spent no effort on delicacy. He withdrew his cock, and by her hair, pulled her mouth down on it, penetrating all the way into her throat on the first stroke. She continued sucking him, fearful, yet aroused, as he opened the envelope and read its contents. He smiled, but did not reveal to her what he read. Quickly, he pumped his load down her throat, then dragged her into the bedroom where he shackled her collar to the foot of his bed. She remained handcuffed, still naked, on the bare floor.

"Goodnight, cunt! We'll begin again in the morning!"

She looked up, pleading, moaning in her unsatisfied arousal. Tonight, she would suffer in denial. The lights went out.

Sunday: Day One

Ron unchained Diane's collar, released her other restraints, then showered with her. He placed her in serving chains, then allowed her to prepare a light breakfast for both of them. After Diane finished the kitchen cleanup, Ron brought her to the living room and bound her naked, face up, spreadeagled, across an ottoman. Her body was severely arched, her head hanging down at one end.

Only then did Ron approach her, himself naked, his erect cock threatening her. "Time for my morning pleasure, cunt!" As she gasped, Ron buried his cock in her, using her cunt for the moment. He stroked her forcefully, bringing her to the brink, but pulled out before she could come. As her mouth opened to moan in her deep frustration, Ron plowed into her throat.

He fucked her mouth hard, for his own pleasure, not hers. When he came, half his load went into her mouth, the other half on her face and body. Finished, he sat down and smoked, watching his slave suffer.

For an hour he watched her, perhaps longer. She was suffering quite visibly, not only from her bonds, but from her denial, as well. The juices he deposited in and around her mouth, both his and her own, added to her arousal, increasing it by an order of magnitude. When she started moving physically, shifting with her obvious discomfort in her restraint, he picked up the envelope and read it to her.

"I am captured and tortured. My breasts are tightly bound and clamped. More clamps are applied to my cunt and all over my body. Over time, they are moved, repositioned, teased, maybe even weighted. The torture continues until I talk. My captor takes his pleasure from me as he wishes, in the midst of my torture."

"Oh, God!", Diane moaned, helpless to stop the proceedings. She moaned again, as Ron showed her the large bag of spring clothespins he would soon use on her. He set the bag down on her belly, then left the room to get himself a drink.

He returned in moments. Immediately, the first two clothespins went directly on her nipples. With each one producing a small gasp, he proceeded to ring her aureoles with more pins, then circled outwards over the rest of her breasts. Her cuntlips were next, half a dozen on each. He then moved to her underarms, her sides, her inner thighs, her belly, even one on each earlobe.

A leather thong was brought forth. He wound it tightly around the base of her already pinned breasts in a figure eight pattern, until they glowed red under the tight pressure. The clothespins shook, vibrated, one or two even popped off, with Diane's screams announcing each one.

He took a riding crop and began teasing the pins, shaking them all in turn. Soon, with the passage of over an hour, he began to remove and reposition the pins. Her screams became more regular.

"Oh, please, Master. Have mercy!"

"You know what I want, cunt!"

He stroked her clit with one finger, bringing her close, then backed off. Again, he brought her close, then used the crop to lightly whip her clit, forcing her off the peak. As her frustration gained momentum, Ron suddenly buried his cock in her for one solitary stroke, covering himself with her juice. He then placed a single clothespin right on her clitoris.

"Arrgh, please...!"

"It comes off when I do. Suck me off!"

He drove into her throat. She licked and sucked desperately, cleaning his cock, then swallowing his second orgasm since she had been bound, even as his first orgasm was still drying on her body. He removed the clothespin from her clit, then returned to manipulating the rest.

Finally, she gave in. She told him where to find the envelope, under the hall rug, and he brought it back before removing her clothespins.

Monday: Day Two

She knelt before him, naked and shackled, as he read the fantasy, to himself first, then to her.

"They hang me upside-down, by my spread ankles. They whip my pussy and the undersides of my breasts. They light candles and torture me with the flames, then with the hot wax. Finally, they insert large candles in my cunt and ass, allowing the falling wax to cover my crotch completely."

She shuddered in fear. As time went on, she was forgetting some of what she had written. Now, she would be forced to submit to her own written words. As Ron fastened her ankle shackles to the ends of a four foot pole, she pleaded, "Master, I don't know if I can handle this..."

"Of course, slut. The better to make you talk."

"But Master, I can't handle it..."

"That's why you are shackled. Would you care to tell me the location of the second envelope?"

"Oh, Master, please... Arrgh!!" He engaged the winch and hoisted her into the air. Her legs were

spread to their limits, her cunt wide open and waiting. She struggled a bit, but soon he had attached her wrists, already joined behind her, to her waist belt.

"I'm tempted to gag you, cunt. But then, how could you talk?"

He used a standard cat-o-nine tails, one with thin braided tails and knotted ends. He started with her breasts, and, over the next fifteen minutes, brought all her flesh from shoulders to knees to a rosy shade of red, paying particular attention to her tits and cunt.

Diane allowed herself to scream freely, experiencing the pain to its fullest. Several times, Ron asked her if she wanted to talk, to allow her the escape route, but she declined.

When he showed her the candles, she moaned, knowing her pain was just beginning. He lit several and placed them on the floor around her, so she could feel their heat. He took another and moved it around her body, warming her flesh. Soon, he would pass the flame close, causing her to start with the pain. He slowly intensified her torture, so that he literally ran the flame down her thighs, hips, near her cunt or passed it slowly under her nipples. Soon, she screamed

with every pass.

He began the hot wax treatment directly on her breasts, then her inner thighs. At first, he would let the molten wax fall from two feet over her, but quickly shortened the distance to six inches so as to increase her pain still more. After covering her nipples with the wax, he moved to her cunt.

He teased her a bit more, manipulating her spread cunt, especially her clit, then, from only a short distance, let the first drops of wax fall directly on her clit. Her screams were full-bodied now, as the pain intensified.

Suddenly, Ron thrust the candle deep into Diane's cunt. As her screams rocked the room, he took a small switch and began whipping her clit with a vengeance. She came under the whip, and would have collapsed with the intensity of it had she not been hanging by her ankles.

It was not an act of mercy, but one of cruelty. The candle in her cunt continued to burn, and it soon began dripping wax. With Diane's orgasm behind her, every drop landing on her cunt hurt worse, bringing forth a gasp or a small scream. Ron sat down, to watch the candle burn.

A few minutes later, he rose and said, "If you need more convincing to talk, I'd be happy to provide it." He took a second candle, as large as the first, lit it and inserted it deep into her ass. Her groans went up an order of magnitude as she said, "Please, no more!" Ron only smiled, and said, "Then talk, cunt!"

She continued to moan in pain but kept quiet otherwise. The candles burned down, as the wax on her crotch slowly built up. Eventually, the candle-flames shrank to within an inch of her flesh, and the wax already on her began to melt again.

"Oh, please Master, its burning me!"

"Do you have something to say, slut?"

"Master, you'll find an envelope taped to the middle drawer on your desk, in the back."

He walked out, leaving her to her pain. He returned several minutes later with the second envelope. He blew out the candles, then surprised her with a quick half-dozen to her ass with the crop. She screamed with a double infliction of pain: once from the whipstrokes, and once again from the melted wax which was splashed, in quantity, onto her body as she danced under the whip.

He removed the candles and was amused to find that the wax had built up so heavily over her clitoris that it would function effectively as a chastity device for her until it was removed. Before going to sleep, he fucked her cunt as she knelt on all fours. With her clit still covered, she did not come. After she cleaned him by mouth, she was chained to sleep on the bathroom floor. The wax remained until morning.

Tuesday: Day Three

Ron awakened Diane, handcuffed her hands behind her back, then had her suck him to his morning orgasm. They showered together, with him washing her, and all her wax was removed. He chained her naked in the living room, hands high overhead, then dressed himself. He cooked breakfast himself as she hung, then fed both of them.

Fully dressed, he enjoyed the sight of his naked wife as she remained exposed. When she had been bound an hour, he read the fantasy to her:

"I am bound naked, hands high overhead, while my captor remains dressed. I am made to feel my nudity and exposure to his gaze. He puts something under my toes to make it painful for me to stand upon it. Then, he gives me something to put my toes on, but which requires me to spread my legs wide to relieve my pain. I might be teased, fucked or whipped, but I remain until I talk."

She groaned as she listened to her own written words. Her arms already ached, and her thighs unconsciously squeezed together protectively, guarding what little remained of her modesty.

Ron left the room.

In the basement, they had a laundry room equipped with a suspended ceiling. Covering one of the ceiling lights was a metal grid, made of steel strips with sharp edges. He removed the grid and brought it upstairs, setting it just outside the living room door.

He blindfolded the fearful girl, then hoisted her up further until her feet were several inches above the floor. As she groaned in pain, he retrieved the grid and laid it on the floor under her feet. He lowered her again, and her toes searched anxiously for support. Finally, she found her footing, but then grimaced and groaned with new pain as the sharp edges of the steel dug into the soles of her unprotected feet. He removed her blindfold.

"Oh no, Master. Please!"

He laid back, enjoying her discomfort. After fifteen or twenty minutes, he walked to the kitchen, returning with a pair of large juice cans. He set them up at either edge of the metal grid, over three and a half feet apart. He then began molesting her with his fingers, provoking a defensive reaction on her part as she again pressed her thighs together, still groaning with the pain of her feet.

"Slut--if you want to stop torturing your toes, then spread your legs!"

Humiliated now, as well as in pain, she spread her legs wide, exposing her naked body to the eyes of her Master. She found the cans with her toes, and relaxed, as Ron's hands resumed their explorations.

They remained thus occupied for several hours. At times, his handling of her cunt and ass, punctuated with an occasional whipstroke, caused her to return her toes to the grid. Eventually, the pain of her toes forced her to return to the cans, opening herself for renewed abuse. It took over four hours before she finally pleaded, "Master, look inside the flour canister in the kitchen."

He bound her to the bed that night, used her well and did not free her until morning.

Wednesday: Day Four

Ron took her into the living room. "You'll be more comfortable today, cunt. Although, I have no doubt you'll wish you could move before we're done..."

He had already read her fantasy for the day but had not yet revealed it to her. He fixed her over the ottoman again, this time face down, effectively on all fours. He then read the paper to her:

"My ass is used and abused all day. When its not being fucked, by both cocks and ever-larger dildos, its being whipped. The only break is when I am forced to service or clean the cock with my mouth."

Predictably, she moaned when she heard it. By now, she had forgotten much of what she had written. She knew some of the worst was yet to come, but by now, it would surprise her.

He started with the cane, renewing the faded welts on her ass with two dozen new ones. Diane's screams filled the room. Ron, having foregone his first orgasm of the day, then fucked her ass brutally, taking his pleasure there and coming to her mouth to be cleaned. Done, he took a modest sized dildo and tied it into her ass.

He slid the entire ottoman, with her attached, closer to the couch. He then sat back, put his feet up onto her back and began to watch T.V.

"If you feel a desire to talk to me, slut, feel free." He kept his cane at the ready.

A couple of hours passed. He replaced her dildo with one a size larger. As she moaned in pain and frustration, he tied it in place, then gave her some additional strokes with the cane.

By that evening, he had used her ass three times, whipped her thoroughly and had fully inserted a dildo two inches in diameter and over eight inches long. It was when she saw him applying grease to his right hand and arm, all the way up to the elbow, that she finally pleaded, "Master, no! I'll talk! You'll find an envelope pinned to the bottom of the left cushion on the couch!"

She sucked him off once more before being chained on the floor at the foot of his bed.

Thursday: Day Five

It was a bright, sunny day which greeted them. Warm, hot even, with not a cloud in the sky. Ron spent a bit of time outside before rousing Diane, making some preparations on the beach. He then woke her, used her mouth, then read her fantasy to her immediately:

"I am held by Indians, or perhaps Arabs. They stake me out in the desert, bound hand and foot with rawhide strips, tight and widely spread. They leave me to bake in the sun all day, without food or water. As the day wears on, they do pour water on the leather which binds me, to make it shrink and tighten. If I fail to talk, I am offered only the come of my captors to drink, or maybe their piss, straight from their cocks. And when they take a whip to my roasting flesh, I am horrified; the pain is terrible."

Diane's hands were already cuffed behind her as he led her outside. The four stakes were already in place, in this case modern tent pegs, the kind that screw into the ground over two feet deep. They would be not be moved. A rawhide strip was fixed to each one.

He bound her ankles first, spreading them painfully wide before unlocking her wrists to rebind them. She noticed three extra stakes, one over her head, two more to the sides of her body. She could not deduce their purpose.

He left her for well over an hour. The sun had risen and the temperature was climbing rapidly toward the nineties. Already, she felt her sensitive flesh burning. She slowly shook her head back and forth, the only motion she had available.

When Ron returned, he brought another leather strip. "Has your abstinence been fried out of you yet, bitch?" She moaned, already suffering. "No problem." He began braiding the leather into her hair, forming a pony tail extending out from the top of her head. The other end of the leather was fixed to the stake above her and pulled painfully tight. She screamed as her hair was pulled. He then followed through on another torture listed in the fantasy as he poured water on all the leather. Finally, he removed his robe, revealing a bathing suit, and went out for a swim.

He spoke to her again on the way into the house. "I'm going to leave you for awhile, cunt; I'm not sure how long I'll be gone. Do you wish to say anything before I go?"

She moaned, "Please, Master, have mercy. I need to drink something, badly!"

He certainly didn't want to damage her. Still,...

"If you want a drink, either talk, or beg me nicely to drop my cock in your mouth!"

"Oh, please, Master, let me suck you off!"

"And would you like to drink anything else from my cock?"

She simply groaned.

"So be it, then." He straddled her face and pumped her mouth, easily penetrating her throat. At first, she attempted to move her head, but quickly realized she was totally helpless as the leather strip pulled on her hair. All she could move were her lips and tongue. He fucked her mouth at will, coming quickly. She did her best to hold his come in her mouth, prizing its moisture. As he rose, she felt the sun again on her now burning breasts.

Another hour passed. He swam again, briefly, then sat near her under an umbrella, savoring her suffering, but watching her cautiously as he drank iced lemonade.

"Master, I beg of you--I must drink something!"

"I am not ready to fuck your face again yet, cunt. So either talk, or beg me to piss in your mouth."

She remained silent for a minute, suffering, almost sobbing. Finally, she whimpered, "Please Master, piss in my mouth."

He straddled her face again, sitting on her breasts. He dropped his now-soft cock in her mouth and began to piss. She groaned at first, choking, spilling it over her face as the taste overwhelmed her. In seconds though, she began swallowing ravenously, drinking down all he had to offer. She was crying as he rose, but still did not offer to talk.

Diane had been staked out on the beach for hours. The tide had come in, lapping tantalizingly close to her toes, then gone out again. Her flesh was dry, tanned, burned in places. Ron decided to intensify her fantasy. He brought out a pitcher of water and a spool of thread.

"You're stubborn, slut. You've earned the whip on top of your roasting. But first..." He again poured water on her bonds, including the one in her hair. He then took the thread and tied a length of it to each of her nipples. As she groaned with the new pain, he ran the threads to the two forgotten stakes on either side of her body. He pulled them tight, stretching her tits to either side, then tied them off. Before returning to the shade of his umbrella, he said, "In another hour, you're going to be whipped."

The whipping began at nearly four in the afternoon when she had been staked out over six hours. She took a dozen strokes on her tits, abdomen, thighs and cunt before she finally broke. Minutes later, Ron sat again in the shade, watching his slave roast as he opened the envelope he found hidden in her lingerie drawer.

He released her, allowed her to drink liberally, then ran her a cool bath as she ate some fruit. He dried her gently, then let her rest on the satin sheets of their bed as he prepared a dinner for both of them. After she ate, he again let her sleep in bed for several hours.

He awakened her in the late evening. "Slut--you've rested enough!" Quickly, he locked her wrists behind her back and leashed her. He led her to the cellar on all fours and locked her leash-chain to the base of a post in the middle of the floor, with only a foot of slack. He used her completely, taking her in the cunt and ass before finishing in her mouth. He left her chained as she was, to sleep as she could on the dirty cement floor.

Friday: Day Six

He awoke her roughly, with a hand in her hair twisting her head to bring her mouth to his cock. He fucked her throat brutally, then thrust the paper to her face. "Read it, cunt-mouth!" Still chained, she read:

"My captor proves his expertise with bondage today. While he makes little use of the whip, he teaches me that rope and chain can be just as severe a torture. He binds me for pain, as well as for humiliation, exposure and availability. He rapes me at will through the day, in any of my openings. I am not freed or given mercy until I talk."

Her wrists remained bound. He laid her across the kitchen table and bound her ankles wide to the corners.

Her upper body hung down from her waist over the edge of the table toward the floor. Her wrists remained bound behind her back. He ate his breakfast between her spread legs, feeding her scraps when it suited him. He allowed her an hour there, and another hour in each succeeding position.

He had her kneel in the living room. He roped her breasts tightly, then used a long rope to haul up her breast bondage from a ceiling hook, torturing her. He then lifted her ankles, joining them to her wrists. Her knees bore her weight, while her breast-ropes held her painfully upright. Another hour passed.

Using a collar, he bound her left wrist behind her neck. Her right wrist was pulled up to the ceiling, drawing her off her heels. He then lifted her left ankle with another rope, drawing it up high behind her for the next hour.

He joined her left wrist to her left ankle, and her right wrist and ankle in the same way. Applying the hoist to her joined left limbs, he hauled her up until her torso hung suspended. He fucked her cunt as she hung, allowing her to clean him with her mouth.

He hogtied her, wrists to ankles behind her back, then blindfolded her. He hoisted her up again by her bound limbs, and she cried out with the pain. To her horror, she heard him leave the room, remaining gone for several minutes. When he returned, she heard the sound of something being moved under her, but distracted by her severe pain, she could not recognize it. "Please, Master, have mercy'"

"Do you wish to be lowered?"

"Oh, God! Please, Master!"

"Then I shall do so. When you wish me to hoist you into the air again, I shall be happy to oblige."

She could not understand him. Mercy for her while under torture? And why should she ever ask to be hoisted up again?

He lowered her to the floor. To her shock, she found her belly and breasts now resting on the same metal grid that had tortured her toes three days earlier.

"Arrgh! Master, ple-e-ease!"

"Do you wish to talk?" Her pained groans were her only answer.

"Then simply tell me, cunt, when you wish to be hauled up into the air again."

"Oh, God...."

She endured an hour and a half, divided equally between the grid and suspension. After she agreed to talk, he fucked her mouth as she hung.

The last fantasy was hidden in a new, unused copy of "The Story Of 0".

Diane spent the night tied across the foot of the bed, worshipping Ron's feet all night.

Saturday: Day Seven

They sat fully dressed in the living room. The last fantasy, the most special one, sat unopened on the coffee table.

"Its been a memorable week, Diane."

She sighed in response. "It doesn't have to end now, I hope."

Ron smiled at her. He then picked up the envelope and opened it. He read it through, and smiled again. It was no surprise. He handed it to Diane. "Read it aloud."

Her hands trembling, she began:

"I dream of becoming Ron's real-life slave. He starts my training by stripping me naked, then he goes through my clothes, burning any of them that do not meet his requirements, all of them if he wishes.

"He sets me up in a training routine, so I may learn in detail everything I need to know to please him. He punishes me regularly for the slightest shortcomings and demands complete satisfaction.

"He has me sleep normally on the floor at the foot of his bed, never in his bed unless it is his wish to reward me. When I've been disobedient, I could spend the night in severe punitive bondage.

"He uses me at will, to satisfy his slightest whim. He binds, whips or tortures me for training, punishment, or even to idle away the time. He prohibits me from taking pleasure unless I am deserving and he permits me to do so.

"He may keep me to himself, or if he wishes, he may share my services with anyone he wishes, male or female. Should he take a female lover, I would serve them both with total devotion. As a slave, I would not dare to interfere with my Master's pleasure in any way, least of all with jealousy, and should be punished severely if I did.

"I would, in short, serve his every desire and need, with no restrictions, limits or conditions. I would be owned and possessed completely, his total slave.

"I love him. What better gift would there be than to give him myself, completely?"

They looked at each other silently for a moment. Then, Ron asked Diane, "Is this what you want?"

"Yes. More than anything else in the world."

"Even with the understanding that I would indeed use and train you completely, including sharing you with others? That there would be no escape later?"

"That's the only way it would make any sense."

"Then stand, slut. And strip."

An hour later, ninety percent of Diane's clothes were burned in the fireplace, the rest were under lock and key. New welts were placed on her ass, on her tits as well. She knelt before Ron, his cock in her mouth, her wrists locked behind her back. Now, though, her knees were spread almost two feet apart, and she serviced him with great care and attention to detail, all under the threat of the whip. Now, it was no longer a game, but her normal, expected role. He would, in fact, be inviting over several friends that evening, both males and females, and she would serve and service them all the same way.

Had her mouth not been occupied by Ron's deeply thrusting cock, she would have smiled. And when he shot his load across her face and shackled body, then returned to her mouth to be cleaned, she cried tears of joy. For not only were her dreams finally fulfilled, but Ron obviously loved his birthday present.


Master Ivan
Copyright © 1992