Bizarre sexual tastes and fetishes abound in our society today. The sexual revolution has allowed us to freely indulge our most hidden fantasies. There is no sexual act that is not being experimented with and no experience that is deemed too bizarre for our expanded lifestyle.
The editors have interviewed and spoken to thousands of young girls and women in their exploration of this phenomenon.
In this volume are six of the most explicit first hand accounts of bizarre sexual experience.
Each girl tells, in her own words, of her voyage to the world of sado-masochism.
LOU ANN: a dominating bitch to the men in her life, she is trained by a lesbian Mistress to serve pussy and beg for her punishment.
JOANNE: a willful woman is turned into a humble slave in the secret hideaway of a sex cult.
FELICITY: a trained slave tells of her introduction to the bizarre.
MARIANNE: a cock-teasing tart learns to grovel at her Master's feet and beg to lick the dirt from them.
CATHY: a girl born to serve tells of her search for the perfect Master. One who would punish her as she deserved.
CAROLINE: a dutiful slave tells of the pleasure she feels when she feels the lash of her Mistress.
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THE STORY OF LOU ANN
You will think me mad, this I know. You will think that I have lost all sanity, all dignity, all reason. You will believe I am more twisted and damaged than anyone you could possibly know.
But you will be wrong. For I am more free than you could ever be, dear reader, let me assure you of that. I am more alive than you could hope to imagine. Each moment I breathe, the air is fresher than life itself, for I serve a Master more blessed than any you have ever known.
Once, I was much like you must be, at this moment. Once, I lived only for myself, only for whatever silly, self-indulgent pleasures that I desired. I cared nothing for the thoughts of others, nothing.
I was Lou Ann Simons, a bitch to end all bitches. My parents gave me everything as I grew up, my slightest whim was taken care of at once. I did what I pleased, not what I was told, and the heartbreak I caused them, was beyond belief.
I was married three times before I turned twenty-five. Each time, I used my husbands mercilessly, driving and grinding them down under my heel until they were no longer men with any sense of self-worth at all.
And how I loved it. How I loved seeing them tortured and destroyed by my behavior. I would cheat on them openly, laugh at their offered love. I took their money and pride and in one case, a life, for my second husband killed himself over my evil actions.
I did not care. I laughed at his grave site and went that very evening with a man I would make my third husband. He was as vicious and ruthless as myself, but he had more tricks up his sleeve than I.
Donald was his name and he was a handsome, charming actor who stole me away from David, my second husband, with the idea he would bring me to heel. He was going to change me, make me his slave, but he soon found out he could not.
For two years we were together, fighting all the while, a contest of wills I knew he could never win.
I was too clever for Donald. I knew this game too well. I made him love me, and then, he could not hurt me, any longer. We cheated brutally on each other, but since I did not love him, none of his affairs bothered me in the least.
Mine, however, tore at his soul and heart, made him weak with jealousy and sorrow. Finally, he realized he could not dominate me, could not win. He tore himself from me with more pain than he could have dreamed of at the beginning of our affair.
I laughed in triumph at our separation, but my laughter was a little too hasty. I should have known better. Donald was always a trickster and he had one more up his sleeve for me, the one that would break me, in the end, even if he could not have me for himself.
I had tried everything with everyone that you could imagine. So, when the tall, beautiful woman approached me at the party I gave after my divorce became final, I was not put off by her interest in me.
She was dark-eyed and mysterious, with a smoldering quality of violence in her that drew me like a magnet. I could not seem to take my eyes off her all during the party and I began to follow her around as I never had anyone before in my life.
I did not know her, nor could I find out who, exactly had invited her. This made me only the slightest bit angry, for I would not have sent her away for anything.
Finally, I got her alone, in the kitchen. She was mixing herself a drink, ignoring me, though I was the hostess and certainly not unknown to her. I was used to being fawned over, even by the best of my friends, and her lack of interest in me, was intriguing, to say the least.
"Do I know you," I asked, busying myself with my own drink. "You seem familiar, but I can not place you."
"Oh, you know me, Lou Ann," she replied, her voice so soft and musical that it made my heart leap with a strange urgency. "You know me more than you think you do."
She had a power in her tone of voice and the manner in which she carried herself that was rich and demanding. I found myself scheming to find a way to get her away from the crowd, all by ourselves. I wanted to possess her, I realized, like I had wanted to possess no one else before.
Almost as if she were reading my thoughts, she smiled, giving me a slow, leisurely inspection with her eyes. "What do you say to the idea of slipping out of here, and coming home with me?" she asked.
. I tried to remain casual, but I felt weak and unable to resist her, already. I gulped with difficulty and nodded. "That would be marvelous," I whispered, shocked at the tautness in my voice.
Quickly we made plans. She would leave first, and then I would slip out a little later and go to her home after her. I did not know why we had to be so sly about this, I had never bothered to hide my actions before, but I found myself agreeing to the strange plot almost without thinking.
When I arrived at her apartment, a large, beautiful brownstone in the most fashionable part of the city, I was weak and trembling, totally unable to understand why. It was something more than sexual desire, I realized, but I could not describe nor define what I felt.
All I knew was that I had to be with her, had to be in her orbit. It was a harsh, demanding greed that I was feeling. I wanted something that I would only understand much later, after I came to fully know her.
Mara opened the door to her beautiful apartment, dressed in a long, flowing robe. It hung loosely on her body, yet hugged and outlined her shape, perfectly. But her eyes held no lust as she ushered me into her domain.
She locked the door behind me, and for the first time, I noticed how well built and sturdy the building was. It was almost a fortress that she had, the door a huge, oaken thing that was at least two inches thick.
I had my standard outfit on, consisting of a see-through blouse which showcased my perfect, firm breasts beautifully, and a short skirt that came to mid-thigh, revealing all one would need of my shapely legs.
She gave me another glance, much the same as the previous one at the party, but this time there was obvious disapproval in her eyes.
"You are a slut, aren't you?" she hissed, her voice not light and breathy as before, but now cold and stern with anger. "I shall have to teach you how wrong that is, won't I?"
I laughed j nervously and tried to be bitchy about it. "I dress as I like, my dear," I replied. "I enjoy the way I look and the effect it has on people."
Her hand shot out suddenly and she slapped me hard across the cheek with her open palm. I screamed in response, more in shock than in pain, but before I had time to say anything, she struck me again, the force of the blow driving me against the back of a huge, satin couch.
"Little bitch, you are about to learn a lesson," she growled. "First of all, you will address me as Mistress Mara," she hissed, her eyes blazing with anger. "And you will bow your head until I say otherwise."
I moaned, tasting a bit of my own blood in my mouth and shuddered, a fear coming over me unlike any other I had ever had before. Suddenly, I was scared, but not so much of her, but of displeasing her.
I can not explain why this happened, but I felt myself aching to have her love me, to think well of me, and that is why I nodded my head, meekly, instead of glaring at her with all my normal defiance.
Once more she struck me with her palm and I slipped down to the floor at her feet. I was shivering uncontrollably, daring not to stare upward, for fear of being struck again and incurring more of her anger.
"You must learn to obey me, bitch," she hissed, taking hold of my long, thick mane of hair and tugging my head backward, brutally. "I am now your Mistress, I dominate your life from this moment on! Everything you do will be in terms of my desires, do you understand?"
I blinked, the tears welling up in my eyes and mumbled through my bleeding lips. "Yes, yes, Mistress, I understand," I said, weakly, the tremors of fear racing through me now.
She had changed now, into something I did not yet fully understand. The power that came off of her was so intense, it felt as if it were a fiery heat washing over me. She walked steadily back and forth, barking her words at me, now.
"You have had a marvelous life, worthless slut," she told me. "You have had your own way ever since you were born, all that must cease. You are my slave, now, I command you, and you shall learn the error of your ways."
I had no idea what she meant. I did not feel worthless, nor did I feel I had had too much in my life. I was Lou Ann Simons, what I had done in my life, was right and correct as far as I was concerned.
But, I could not escape from the wanting to please her, so I did not argue. I listened to her, shivering and feeling a deep coldness in my bones. I heard her voice, like a hypnotic command, and I realized, slowly, that I was going to obey.
Take off those clothes, at once, and go into that room," she suddenly ordered me. I looked .past her outstretched hand to a narrow, barred door at the far end of the living room.
"Now, slut," she barked, giving me a kick in the side. "On your feet and obey me, now Lou Ann!"
Quickly I scrambled to my feet, fearing another kick. I was trembling as I unbuttoned my blouse and dropped it to the floor, repeating the action with my skirt. I stood, then, only in my panties and she stared at me with a sneer on her lips.
"You are so self-centered," she muttered in disgust. "Look at you, certain of your perfection. How soon you will change your mind, I promise you!"
She reached out and tore the panties from me, leaving me completely naked, now. She slapped me once more, sending me reeling toward the door at the far side of the room. By the time my head had cleared, she had lifted the heavy iron bar and opened the door with a huge, old key.
She shoved me inside, into darkness and slammed the door behind me. "I shall come in awhile, slave, prepare yourself for me," she whispered behind the door.
I heard the faint sound of her footsteps walking away, then nothing. I looked around in the dark, hoping my eyes would become adjusted, but it was hopeless. There were no windows, so not a bit of outside light got into the room.
I fumbled on the wall for a light switch, but found none. I stood there, quivering a mixture of fear and anticipation surging powerfully in me now. She had said for me to prepare for her, but I did not know, then, what she meant.
I tried for awhile to feel my way around the room, to gauge its size and how it was furnished, but I fell over so many objects, that I finally gave up, sitting down on the cold, bare wood of the floor in despair.
How long I sat there, I do not know, but it seemed like hours. She was treating me as if I weren't worthy enough to grovel at her feet, and in some strange way, I was enjoying the abuse.
I was so tired of people fawning over me, that it felt like a refreshing change to have someone totally unconcerned with how I felt about them. I shivered, for the room was cold, wondering when she would return.
Finally, the lights came on in a sudden, blinding rush and the door opened at once, revealing her to my blinking eyes as she stepped into the room. I gasped in shock as she pulled the door closed behind her.
She was wearing a strange garb that made me tremble anew. Her hips and legs were encased in a skin-tight outfit of leather, oiled and glistening than ran down the length of her long, magnificent legs to the pair of tall, spike-heeled shoes on her feet. Her head was covered by a tight cowl of the same material, but her upper body, from waist to neck was exposed, her full, ample breasts bobbing on her chest, her nipples erect and taut.
She glared at me, nodding to the floor. "Bow your head, slave," she growled, waving the object she had in her hand as a warning. "Bow your head and crawl over here to your Mistress!"
The object was a huge, leather dildo that was set with gleaming, jutting spikes. The tip of the dildo was shaped exactly as a penis, right down to the curve of the helmet and the penial slit.
I trembled more violently and did as she said, meekly making my way across the dusty floor to where she stood. When I reached her place, she lifted one spiked heel and ground it into my shoulders between my blades, sinking the needle-like heel into my flesh and driving me to the floor, painfully.
"You have offended me and many others with your selfishness, slave," she told me harshly, grinding the heel back and forth into my back. "I am going to help you repent. I am going to change you, bitch!"
"Please, please Mistress Mara," I moaned, the pain racing through me with an incredible force. "Do not hurt me, I beg of you, I will repent!"
"Lick my shoe, you worthless scum," she commanded me, suddenly, nudging my chin with the toe of her other shoe. "That can be your first act of obedience! Lick it now, slut, lick it now!"
I found myself eagerly riding my tongue over her shoe at that point. I could not understand why I did not attack her, but something made me weak and drained of rage. I wanted only to please her, so I willingly attended to the task.
The shoe was dusty and foul-tasting, but to my surprise, I enjoyed it. I ran my tongue lovingly over the dirt-covered material, wiping it as clean as possible. I carefully avoided her flesh, anxious not to offend her any more than I suspected I already had.
I knew she was watching me closely, I could feel her eyes upon me as I went about the job. I felt my will draining away from me swiftly, now, replaced by some strange desire to bow to her commands, whatever they might be.
I could not tell you why this happened to me then. Perhaps all my life I had been searching for someone to master me. Perhaps, having had everything my way, I at last had reached to point of wanting to serve another, without even realizing it.
All I can say for sure, is that I was looking forward to whatever she ordered me to do next and for the first time in my life, I found myself thinking of someone else for a change.
I finished the shoe and she instructed me to do the other. Happily I complied and when I completed the task, she reached down and took hold of my hair and hauled me rudely to my feet.
I avoided her eyes and stared, dutifully at my feet. "Turn around, slave," she growled. "Turn around and see where you are. Perhaps you will begin to understand the reason you are here!"
I felt her jerking me about and my eyes, now adjusted to the harsh glare of the lights overhead, swept the room quickly. I gasped in uncontrollable shock, for the room was filled with devices that could be used for only one thing.
There were racks and stocks, tables with spikes and various single instruments designed to inflict pain on flesh. Thumb-screws, wooden boots, all the things used for torture that one could imagine.
Whips dangled from hooks on the walls and irons sat in long narrow cases. All about the room were urns filled with coals to be lit for the heating of the irons. I saw knives and other slashing tools and my flesh grew taut with excitement and anticipation.
If she were going to subject me to agony, I realized with sudden shock, I was more than willing to submit. I felt a wave of desire for punishment coming over me, a sense that if I were to be disciplined by her, I would welcome it eagerly.
Suddenly, Mara jerked my head backward violently, arching my spine, painfully. She looked down into my eyes, grinning viciously. "You will learn to obey me, won't you slave?" she whispered savagely. "You will do anything I ask, won't you."
I gulped, finding it almost impossible to swallow. I felt ill and weak, my stomach churning with fear and sickness, but I blinked my eyes and moved my dry, cracked lips in response.
"Ohh, yes, Mistress Mara, yes," I said, my voice quivering uncontrollably. "I want you to teach me, please teach me the right way!"
We were communicating on a level that I did not understand. I was confused and very frightened, but I felt, at the core of my being, a sense of peace and calm I had not known before this.
Mara laughed at the look in my eyes and gave me a brutal shove. I stumbled forward, crashing into a large, square block of marble. It was cold against my naked thighs, and I leaned on it with my hands for support.
"You want my discipline, do you not?" Mara asked me, coldly, following me to the marble block which stood perhaps four feet off the ground. "Tell me how much you want my love and discipline, bitch!"
I nodded quickly. "Ohh, please, please, Mistress, I am so confused," I moaned, quivering with terror and the coolness of the stone. "I need your help, I need it so desperately. Please, Mistress Mara, please help me and love me!"
She laughed savagely, reaching down to the floor for a length of wood and some thick, woven rope. I gasped as she slipped the hard block of wood behind my back, drew my arms behind me and quickly tied the wood to my elbows with the rope.
She shoved and pinched me until I was seated on the block, staring at her with my wide, frightened eyes. The marble froze against my buttocks and I dropped my hands on either edge of the stone to steady myself.
She had laid the leather dildo on the block beside my hips and she now picked it up and waved it back and forth in front of my eyes. The metal spikes gleamed wickedly and the leather sparkled with its oiled surface under the glaring light.
"You see this, slave, this is for you," she chuckled grimly, riding the thick, knobby head of the tool down along the cleft between my smallish breasts. The tips of the spikes punctured my quivering globes and I gasped in pain.
She laughed at that, twirling the dildo so that the spikes cut into my flesh even more so. Tiny cuts opened up in my skin and I gasped once more as the blood began to dot the flesh of my smooth, white globes.
I was groaning softly as she ran the head of the dildo down over my belly. She drew her arm back, pulling on the board that bound my own at the same time to hold me steady. She slammed the dildo into my belly and I grunted as I lost the wind from my lungs from the force of the blow.
"See how I can give you pain, bitch," she chuckled viciously, listening with obvious pleasure to my tormented groans. "See how easy it is for me to hurt you, and hurt you badly?"
I nodded painfully. "Please, Mistress, what is it you want of me?" I groaned, shuddering as she drew back her hand for another blow. "Please, please, tell me, and I shall obey!"
She tugged down on the block of wood and I sobbed as the jarring agony tore up through my arms. "Foolish slut," she muttered angrily.
"What you shall do is suffer, then repent for your evil, self-indulgent ways."
Now the dildo traveled over my naked belly, through my crotch hair to the rim of my quivering pit. I gasped as she rode the huge leather cock over my cunt lips, turning it in her hand, the slicing points of the spikes making me quickly widen my thighs as far apart as they would go.
"You shall learn how worthless you are, bitch," she assured me. "You shall soon know how common and low you truly are! This cunt of yours has no purpose other than to please me, in any way I so desire!"
She was steadily riding the head of the dildo up and down over my petals and my lips were becoming damp and swollen with the stroking. I moaned, feeling them beginning to part under the constant caress of the huge object.
I gasped as she suddenly forced the thick head of the dildo between them. She sank all of the huge helmet into my cunt, driving it to the first row of points on the ugly, black weapon.
"You have been such a willful slut," she told me. Her voice was terse and pointed, her words clipped and savage. "You have thought that this cunt of yours was worth more than anyone could pay! I shall show you how little it is in value, slave!"
Ruthlessly she began to twist and turn the huge, black and glistening prong inside of me. I screamed wildly, twisting and turning as the first row of points began to tear through my flesh.
She laughed, brutally and yanked down hard on my hair. She was resting a powerful forearm on the block of wood and my body was being bent over at a painful angle, now.
I quivered with the pain, aching so badly I could hardly breathe. The savage torture was almost more than I could endure without fainting and I felt dizzy and saw a thousand exploding lights in front of my eyes.
What she was doing was showing me just how little regard she had for my cunt. I had used my loins as a weapon of seduction in the past, and she was destroying them, to show me how little they mattered.
Even through the blinding mist of pain I was experiencing, I began to realize the truth and logic of what she was proving to me. My cunt was being torn to ribbons as she sank the studded dildo into me, and I began to understand how valueless it truly was, how completely wrong I had been.
I sobbed as I felt the spikes cutting deep into my inner walls, but my cries were more of joy than of pain, now. I nodded, the sweat beading up on my brow and dripping into my eyes, stinging them wildly.
"Yes, ohh, God, yes, hurt me, Mistress Mara, hurt me," I moaned. I shook my head, crying uncontrollably now, as I felt the warm blood seeping from my cunt. "I am so worthless, yes, Mistress, yes!"
She laughed in satisfaction, the dildo almost buried completely inside of me now. She stood back from me, letting go of the handle and allowing it to move slightly inside of me.
I screamed as a new wave of pain swept over me, then. "Get up, slut," she commanded me. "Get on your feet and walk about the room for a bit!"
I would not have disobeyed her at that point for anything. I was feeling so uncertain, yet so powerfully attacted to her, that I would do anything at that point to please her in the slightest.
I slipped, gingerly, off the marble block and gasped as the dildo dangled now from my cunt, rocking steadily back and forth between my quivering thighs. I felt the exposed tips of the studs driving into my limbs but I ignored them, now.
"Walk, slut," she barked softly. She was stepping backwards, steadily, her eyes fastened on my own. "Walk to your mistress, now."
Slowly I moved toward her, each step was a shocking pain, but at the same time, a blissful revelation. Through the red mist of my agony, I began to realize how much I had been a willful bitch.
I had run everyone to my tune, and now, now I wanted to learn a different way of being. I felt the surge of love for this woman who was torturing me, racing through me, now, filling me with the desire to serve.
Each time the spikes cut into my flesh, tore harshly at my worthless loins, I felt more and more of my will disappearing. It was as if, with the draining of my blood, my own foolish pride were escaping me, also.
The block of wood bound my arms, awkwardly, and each step was diffcult and stumbling. She watched me closely, a thin, tight smile on her lips, slowing taking a step away from me with each one I took toward her.
I stumbled, suddenly against the side of a table and slammed hard on the wooden floor. I screamed in pain as the spikes ripped at my skin with the force of my hard landing on the floor and I heard her savage, gleeful laughter through my cries.
"Now, crawl, slave, crawl to your Mistress," she commanded me. I sobbed, moving my head against the floor and shivered.
"Come now, slave, don't you want my soothing love?" she taunted me. "Don't you want to please your Mistress in every way?"
"I ... I can not move, Mistress," I sighed, wearily, almost unable to turn my head, so weak was I with the pain. "I can not move an inch, I fear!"
"Lazy slut," she growled, reaching behind her to the rack that held, the whips and selecting one without looking. "I shall have to give you a little encouragement, I see, my slave!"
She cracked the whip down hard against my naked, tightly drawn shoulders and I screamed as the cold, harsh leather bit deep into my flesh. Again she struck me, the force of the blow making me shudder and jerk, spasmodically.
Slowly I began to inch my way toward her. I was swirling in a midst of pain and insane thinking, now. Everything I had ever known and understood had been turned completely upside down, but I did not care.
I had to move across the floor on my belly like a snake, without the use of my hands. My back sang with pain as she struck me with the whip again, and my breasts and knees were torn and cut by the courseness of the wooden floor.
She kept moving backward, laughing happily at the vision I presented on the floor. Her voice, as she spoke, was calm and melodic, teasing and taunting me with her quiet, laughing manner.
"Do you love me, slave, do you?" she asked, taking another step away from my painful journey across the floor. "Do you want my love in return, little vessel?"
I nodded, my forehead striking the floor violently, sending pain shooting through my skull. "Oh yes, please yes," I moaned, shuddering in an involuntary spasm of aching need. "Yes, Mistress, please, please help me, yes! I want to do what is right for you, only that!"
She stopped, now, standing still and allowing me to reach her. In a few moments, I was at her feet now, quivering with the exhausting effort I had made, waiting anxiously for whatever she would demand of me next.
She reached down and took hold of the wooden bar that bound my arms and hauled me to my feet with both hands. I gasped in savage agony, shuddering with the pain her actions sent roaring through me.
I stood, weakly on my legs, rocking from left to right in an erratic manner, quivering with the never-ending throbbing between my thighs. Gently she reached down and slowly twisted the dildo from my cunt.
She held it in front of my eyes and pressed the bloody tip to my forehead. "Lick it clean, slut," she ordered me harshly. "Lick the last wilfull blood clean from it, and you may begin to serve me!"
I felt sick and dizzy, but I did as she told me, tasting my own blood on my tongue as I cleaned the tool for her. My cunt was dripping steadily on the floor and my insides ached continuously, now.
When finally I was finished, she placed the dildo on the small table to her right and took my head in both hands. Her penetrating gaze bore into my eyes and she stared at me with a savage command.
"You will belong to your Master, now," she told me, shaking my head roughly between her hands. "You will do as you are commanded, do everything you are told, no matter what, is that correct?"
I nodded weakly. "Yes, yes, Mistress, I wish only to serve you, now, only that!" I replied, feeling such an overwhelming desire to please her now, that the tears forming in my eyes came from that wish, as much as the dull, throbbing pain I felt.
"What is your function, now, slave?" she demanded of me.
"To serve you, Mistress," I answered, closing my eyes in respect, now.
"When do you think of yourself?" she barked, shaking my head violently. "When are you concerned with your own well being?"
I knew how important this question was. It was the center of everything. What I would reply would be the basis of her love for me, now. I moaned, for I could feel the last of my will escaping me, then.
"Never," I whispered, determinedly. "Never do I care about myself, Mistress," I said, groaning and shuddering out of control. "I have no importance, Mistress, nothing I want or desire means anything!"
She laughed in savage delight, thrusting me to the floor once more, my knees banging hard and painfully on the rough wood. "Little fool, soon you will learn to have no desires at all," she told me, knowingly. "Soon you will not even think in terms of yourself. Only of me!"
I listened to her intently, for I began, finally to understand. This was the key to all of it, everything that I had to learn. After so many years of not considering anyone else, I finally began to realize the error of my thinking.
I began to see that I must be a slave, I must serve someone to be happy. It did not really matter who it was, this could have happened to me any time, with any Master or Mistress, but nonetheless, it had to happen.
I had to give my life completely to my master. I had only to think in terms of he or she. What was most important, was driving all thoughts of self-concern out of my mind. I had to cleanse myself of all ego and I had not reached that point as of yet. I had not completely come to the place and state of mind where I must be, but I could feel myself caring less and less about me with each passing moment.
My cunt throbbed with pain, but I did not care, in fact, I began to enjoy the pain for I knew that each tortured look on my face filled my Mistress's heart with joy and each scream from my lips gave her ecstasy.
I trembled, yes, and ached with a hundred different and searing hurts, but I began to love my agony for what it produced in my Mistress's satisfaction. I felt her lifting my chin and I thrilled to the smile I saw on her lips.
"I am weak, Mistress, weak and unworthy," I told her, my voice quivering with the love and emotion I was experiencing. "I know I am not good enough to even grovel at your feet, but I shall try and become perfect for you, I shall try!"
"And if I wish to abuse you, little slave?" she asked, playfully, now stroking my head, affectionately. "If I wish to cause you horrible agony?"
"Please do, Mistress," I moaned, sobbing with love for her. "Please torture me if it give you pleasure! Please beat and tear my flesh if you are thrilled by it! My pain will be your pleasure, Mistress!"
"You are learning little slave," she told me approvingly. "And what if I wish you to starve, or to eat the waste of your own body?"
"I would lap up the foulest dung you set before me, Mistress," I whispered urgently. "And I would enjoy every morsel, I promise you!"
"Will you always serve me, slave, always seek to make me happy?" she growled, glaring at me so fiercely I was terrified I had offended her again.
"Always, Mistress, always!" I cried softly. My heart was racing now, pounding with more excitement than I would have believed possible. "I live for your pleasure, and your love. I could not exist if you did not love me, Mistress!"
I saw her nod, satisfied at last with the beginning of my progress. She smiled warmly and I, her willing slave, began to weep tears of joy that I had finally done or said something that pleased her.
"You won't ever be willful again, will you my little slave?" she whispered lovingly. Her hands were stroking my head more tenderly, now, and I shivered, realizing I had earned a portion of her love.
"No, Mistress," I promised her, shaking my head determinedly. "Those days are over. They are gone and I am happy that they are. "Never will I think of myself before my Mistress again!"
"Do you love me, slave?" she said, bending over to kiss me gently on the forehead. "Do you love your Mistress completely, now?"
I could hardly keep upright, now, so violent were the tremors of affection and love that I had for her tearing through me, now. I nodded and wailed my passion for her, my voice uncontrollable in its aching happiness.
"Yes, yes, 'yes, I love you, Mistress, love only you!" I screamed, so joyfully happy now, that I cared nothing for myself any longer. "I love only you, Mistress!"
She allowed me to lie down then, on the harsh, course wood of the floor and quiver out of control in the grip of my new-found place. I felt all resistance, all self-concern draining rapidly out of me, then. My whole life had changed in a matter of a few hours and I felt more alive than I ever had before.
That was a short five weeks ago, and since then I have served her happily and willingly every day. Not a minute goes by that I do not ache to feel her painful discipline or seek to find some new way to please her.
After years of searching for something I did not understand, I have finally found my true meaning in being a slave. There is nothing better, nothing more consuming than this passion I have to serve. Someday, she will order mc to give up my life, just for her amusement, and I shall, happily, for I will know it will be her ultimate ecstasy to watch me die in her service.
One last thing. I spoke before of Donald and the last little trick up his sleeve. I imagine now, that you have discovered that trick. It was so wickedly clever, that I would have truly loved it in my old, self-indulgent days. Yes, it's true, my wonderful, loving Mistress is Donald's older sister!
THE STORY OF JOANNE
How often I have wondered, not without a little trembling fear, what would have happened to me if Johnathan had not come along. Sometimes it makes me tremble so, with aching terror that I can barely breathe.
I was eighteen when I met him, and already I was on a path that would have certainly lead to my sadness and destruction. I would have never known the joys I know now, I would have only had the emptiness of self-pleasure.
You see, I was a bright and pretty girl, full of certainty about myself and my place in this world. I was talented and as I said, beautiful, and most men fell at my feet, aching to be near me.
I learned very young how to use my charm and beauty to get my way, and though my parents were strict and stern with my older brothers and sisters, I could do almost anything I wished and never hear a word of reproach.
I was clever, too. I always made sure that when I did something, I had all I needed going for me to prove the worth of my desires. This was not hard to do. My teachers loved me upon first sight and it was easy to get the best marks in any class.
The boys would help with my homework, often writing entire papers for me when I was too bored or too busy with other things to do them myself. My girl friends gladly lent me money without asking for it back, and many was the time I borrowed a sweater or a blouse without any intention of returning it.
By the time I got to college, I was sure of my way, of all that I could accomplish and receive in my life, if I only put what I had learned, to use. I fully intended to continue on my cruel, uncaring path, using all that came in my orbit to my own, selfish ends.
The first semester went as I had planned. Before it was half the way through, I was more or less in charge of my class. I was on every committee and all decisions were mine. I told everyone what to do, and they gladly did it.
I had at least a dozen boys hovering over me, ready to spring at the least mention of a desire on my part. All that I wished to have done, was happening, but for one small, irritating problem.
This problem was a fellow student named Johnathan. He was in my history class, and I wanted him to handle my work in that class for me, for he was the best student in it, and seemed to love history, besides.
I was certain of an A if I enlisted Johnathan's help, but strangely enough, to me, he didn't seem to notice me at all. I wondered for awhile, if he was of the other breed, the men that do not like women, but I quickly found out, through snooping, that this wasn't so.
He had had a mistress in town, I was told, an older and experienced woman, who had been almost his slave, until she left earlier that semester. Johnathan did not seem to be grieving over her loss, and his steady refusal of my charms was beginning to unnerve me.
I decided to concentrate all my efforts on him, to bend him to my will and completely overpower him. Once the second semester began, I put my plan into motion, for it was an obsession to me now.
I was angry with him for not being like all the rest. I wanted more, now that he had ignored me for so long, I wanted to make him my slave. More than anything else, I wanted to repay his ability to escape my web. How amusing it is to me, now, to remember all this, given what finally came about.
Sex meant nothing to me, it was pleasing, but so were many other things in my life, and most of them much more. To taste the delicious fruit of controlling another person's will was far more satisfying to my way of thinking, than the pleasures of the flesh.
Nonetheless, I felt that I must seduce him, if I wanted to gain any portion of control over Johnathan. After all, that is what all men want in the end, I thought, to bed you. How wrong I was, at least, about this man.
I began to encourage his attention, at least as much as he would bother. It was exasperating, in many ways, for aside from a friendly nod, or a polite hello, he would hardly pay me the slightest mind.
I tried to let him know that I was interested in him, but it he understood, he seemed not to care. To him, I was nothing, merely an attractive young woman he shared his class with. He had no other friends, but that did not matter, my attentions were not the least bit important to him.
So, I was surprised when he invited me, out of the blue, one Friday afternoon, to spend the weekend at his father's summer place with some other friends. He explained, in an unhurried manner, that the large house was deep in the woods.
It is private and cozy, with a large fireplace in the living room, he explained. There would be perhaps a dozen people there, so there could be no problem with a scandal. I did not care about that, of course, and accepted, perhaps a little too eagerly.
Now was my chance, I thought as I quickly packed a suitcase then joined him in his car for the drive. Now, I would have him more or less to myself, with .neither school nor studies to distract us.
I would give him a taste of my body and break his reserve. By the time the weekend was finished, he would be mine. I was certain of it.
Once we were in the car, I ventured to ask him why he had invited me. "After all, you hardly seemed to notice me at all before this," I teased him.
"Ohh, I've notice you," he chuckled, his tone of voice sly and deceptive, as if he were hoarding a secret from me. "I've noticed you quite a bit, Joanne."
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, suddenly finding myself intrigued by him. There was something in the way he spoke that caught me off guard.
"I know what you want," he said simply, turning to me, arid smiling confidently. "In fact, if I am not wrong, and I usually am not, I believe I know what you truly want, more than even you know, Joanne."
His words sent chills up and down my spine and they made me nervous. I could not figure out why for a little while, until I began to realize, that incredibly, I might have met my match in him.
For a quiet, not too striking young man, he seemed to be hoarding a rich, full power behind his simple and uncommanding pose. I was taken with him at once, wondering if he could be the partner I found myself dreaming of, now and again.
I had no wish, I thought, to be dominated, but a man would come in handy, I knew, in making my way in life. If I could find someone almost as strong and dominating as myself, I thought, there would be little I could not achieve.
Perhaps this Johnathan was the man, I began to consider. Perhaps, he had as much self-confidence as I did, as much personal certainty about himself as I did about my own place in the world.
Now, I was more than ever determined to seduce and put my spell on him. I grew more and more convinced that he was too important to let escape. I would use all my powers to make him love me.
The ride was long, but not unpleasing and Johnathan kept me amused by telling me of the history of his father's summer hide-a-way. It had been used by a select, very exclusive club in the twenties, he explained. The club had been made up of men and women that took pleasure in turning people into their willing slaves. Many orgies and tortures occurred there, until they were discovered and broken up.
He himself had found old books and journals, he told me, and had poured over them with a fascination. He had explored the house and found secret passages and even an underground chamber devoted to the strange pleasures of the club. He promised to show it to me.
When we arrived at the cabin, the weekend party was in full swing. The liquor was flowing and the music loud and the people were all much older than I and quite exotic to me. In just a short time, I became drunk for one of the few times in my life, and was so completely enjoying myself, that I had forgotten about seducing Johnathan completely.
The party grew more and more daring. Women and men began to tear off their clothing and dance naked about the huge living room. Normally I would have found this action distasteful, but I was too caught up in it all to find any fault with it.
At about midnight, a loud, overpowering gong suddenly sounded and the party grew silent until all that was heard was the crackling of the logs flaming in the fireplace, and the heavy, anxious breathing of the partiers.
From behind a door, stepped Johnathan. I gasped as I saw him wearing what was obviously some ceremonial robe.
" It whirled about his feet and body as he walked, his eyes full of a fire I had never noticed in them before. He came straight to where I was standing and without a word, took hold of my hand and led me to a small, raised section of the floor in the center of the room, before the fire place.
"You are here to meet your destiny, Joanne," he whispered coldly. I smiled at him, shivering with a strange sense of fear. "I have brought you here so that you may finally get what you wish!"
I trembled hearing that. Though I did not doubt that he could have seen through my games, somehow, I did not feel he meant that he was going to allow me to seduce and control him. I was sure that he had something else on his mind, and I felt a powerful sense of thrilling expectation coming over me, now.
He waved his hand toward the door he had just come out of and spoke in a loud, compelling voice. "Bring the slave to me," he called. "Bring her out, so that all, all may see her, now!"
Everyone turned their heads and watched the door as it slowly swung open. A few seconds passed then I caught my breath as two men came from behind the darkness, leading in a young woman between them.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
She was dressed in an outfit that both shocked and excited me at the same time. Her legs were garbed in a tight pair of boots that were molded of one piece, rising up completely from foot to trunk, They were fastened by buckles to the garment she wore over her trunk and upper body.
This was made of the same glistening leather material. It came down across her breasts, forcing them to either side by the tightness of it, then opened up at her waist, with a narrow strip of material riding down the center of her body, an oval hole cut in the middle of the strip to reveal her navel.
Two straps went arosss the tops of her mashed breasts, around her back, pulling the garment as tightly as possible to her flesh. An ugly, gleaming metal rod was fastened to the front of the vest-like arrangement, the ends of which jammed tightly into her globes, sinking deep into her skin.
A strap ran over her belly, in the middle of which, connected by a buckle, ran another strap beneath her buttocks and loins. It was so tight that it cut into the cleft between her cheeks and the shaven lips of her vagina. Between her flesh and the leather, however, was a spiked bar, that pushed so hard against her naked mound it drew blood from the impaled needles.
I could see the bright red dripping from the punctures, falling in small drops to the floor beneath her booted feet. Around her head was a skin-tight cowl, the only portion revealing her eyes and nose. There was a black, rubber ball jammed through a hole in the cowl, into her mouth and the cowl itself was snapped to the rest of the outfit, making it all of one single piece.
The woman's hands were bound behind her back, the tight thong wrapped around her wrists, cutting deep into her arms through the leather gloves she was wearing. She was sweating freely and her eyes bore a pained, vacant expression.
Truly, she was helpless, and I felt my loins and heart quickening at the very sight of her, bound up as she was. I realized at once, that Johnathan and his friends had resurrected the slave club once more.
It was almost too much to believe, and as I stood there I didn't want to.
I watched intently as Johnathan led the young woman around the room. She winced with each step that she took, the spikes of the small metal bar digging into her hairless mound as she moved her limbs.
Though there was agony on her face, her eyes blinking with pain, there was also a rather serene expression about her, a kind of blissful contentment with her position that at once shocked and excited me.
"See my friends, she how happy she is," Johnathan told the crowd, though his eyes were clearly directed at me. "She has become what she was always meant to be, I the perfect, happy slave!"
The crowd murmured its agreement, men and women alike, reaching out to touch and caress the woman as Johnathan paraded her past them. Here and there, one of them would cruelly pinch her nipples or press hard against the spiked bar. She did not cry out or struggle, nor even attempt to escape the punishment.
He stopped, finally, in front of me, boring into my eyes with his own. "This is why I brought you here, Joanne," he whispered, his voice cold and compelling. "I wanted you to experience all of this."
Somehow I began to realize everything. I gazed at the woman, her eyes smiling at mine, then I looked back at Johnathan. He was smiling, too, an evil, pentrating gaze that frightened me.
"I ... I don't understand," I stammered, noticing now that the crowd was drawing closer to where we were standing. "I don't know what you mean, Johnathan!"
He laughed, the most vicious and cruel laugh I had ever heard. I turned from left to right, but there was no escape, the people were drawing tighter, surrounding us now, cutting off an access beyond the center of the circle I was in.
"On you knees, slave," Johnathan hissed at me. I felt his hands clasping my shoulders, forcing me downward. I tried to struggle, but he was much, much stronger than I would have anticipated.
"Please, Johnathan, I ... please," I whispered frightenedly. I gulped frantically, feeling those heavy hands force me to the cold, tile floor.
"Silence, bitch!" he barked, taking hold of my hair and slapping me twice across the cheek. "You will speak only when you are commanded to, only then!"
I was trembling violently, now, the fear quaking through me uncontrollably. Dimly I understood what was going on, and I could bearly speak. I realized that he intended to make me a slave, such as the woman, and the thought terrified me, at first.
"Look at this slave," he commanded me, pulling on my hair and turning my gaze to the woman. "See how happy and peaceful she is! Soon, my little bitch, you shall share her happiness and contentment!"
I tried to shake my head, and once again, Jonathan struck me. I began to sob, feeling a strange mixture of absolute terror and growing anticipation. No one had ever treated me this way before, and a part of me was beginning to realize that I liked it a great deal.
"But ... but, what will you do to me?" I moaned, and received first another blow, this rime one of a closed fist that knocked me to my side and split my lips.
"You will soon see, whore, but first, you shall learn not to speak unless directed to," Johnathan told me. "Until you are told, keep your mouth shut and you eyes on the floor! You are not worthy enough, yet to even gaze upon your Masters!"
He reached down and hooked his hand into my blouse, ripping it from me with one sharp pull. I screamed as the garment tore from my body, then other hands began to pull on my skirt and panty hose, until in moments, I was completely nude.
I felt something going around my neck and opened my eyes to see a studded collar being buckled tightly at my throat. Johnathan had the end of the short leash, and he began tugging on it brutally.
"Come my little pet, my little bitch puppy," he laughed, pulling on the leash, forcing me to follow him on my hands and knees. "I want to show my new toy off to my friends!"
I tired to stifle a groan as I moved after him in a crawl. I felt the burning embarrassment flooding me and I knew I was blushing terribly. The other people laughed at the sight of me, and a couple of them gave me swift kicks in the buttocks as I moved past where they stood.
"Isn't she a beautiful dog," laughed Johnathan, yanking so hard on the chain that I was jerked forward onto my face. "Unfortunately, she hasn't been trained completely as of yet!"
Never had I felt such strange reactions to an event as I did then. For sure, a huge part of me was full of rage and disgust, but another part, growing stronger, was incredibly, enjoying this game.
Johnathan tugged upward on the chain in a playful fashion. "Come on, little pup, come on," he laughed. "On your hind legs, let us see how well you beg!"
Happily I rose up on my knees, my two hands turned into paws in a manner of speaking, my tongue out. I nodded and yelped and the crowd laughed in delight. Johnathan motioned with his head and someone brought him a cookie.
"Good little doggie, good pup," he chuckled, shoving the cookie between my teeth. "You're learning fast, little slave, learning very fast, indeed!"
God, how wonderful I began to feel. I was being humiliated in a way that I could have never imagined, and enjoying it completely. He forced me to roll over, play dead, all the things you get an obedient, well-trained pet to do, and I performed each trick to the best of my ability.
I loved the sickening feeling of shame that I was experiencing, the horrible, terrible sense of being humiliated and abused. When I did something wrong and received a slap or a kick for my mistake, I loved the pain of his punishment.
"Now you have to go to the bathroom, don't you, little bitch?" he said, yanking hard on the chain and leading me over to a pile of newspapers. "Let us see how well you do your business where you should!"
With that he dragged me to the newspapers and set me on them. I felt the crinkly material beneath my buttocks and saw the faces on the people watching me intently. With a deep, completely lovely sense of degradation, I urinated in front of all of them, rising up on my haunches as I did so.
Johnathan was greatly pleased with that, and gave me another cookie as a reward. Gratefully I licked his hand in return and followed him as he led me around the room once again.
"Now slave, I want you to listen very carefully," he told me, wagging his finger at me as if he were instructing an attentive .pet. "You will heed all my instructions, listen to them closely and respond as I command."
I nodded quickly. "Yes, Master," I said, breathlessly. "I will do exactly as you tell me to, I will obey."
Someone kicked me in the side and I gasped as the pain tore through me. "No one told you to speak, bitch," came the words from the faceless person.
I nodded again, dutifully casting my eyes downward. The thrill of this experience was overwhelming me, now. Never had I felt so completely content, so happily protected by someone else. I was beginning to understand what Johnathan meant by knowing exactly what I truly wanted.
"When you are told to do something," he explained in a serious, compelling voice. "You will obey instantly. You will never pause to consider the command, will never wonder or question it."
He pulled on the chain to make me look up at him. "You will not even think about it for a fraction of a second, do you understand?"
"Yes, Master, I understand," I replied, surprised at the calmness in my voice, for I was trembling violently, now. "I will never think about it for a moment."
"Good, slave, you're catching on," he nodded in satisfaction. "You see, my little pet, your Master knows best, always remember that, your Master knows best!"
With that, he began to explain other things to me. He told me how I was a willful, self-centered little whore that did not know her place in life. He explained that I was so wrapped up in myself, that I never considered the true function of my existence.
"You think you live to please and serve yourself," he said, knowingly. "You are so very wrong. You live only to serve me, and anyone else I instruct you to, your life has no meaning other than that!"
I listened to him intently, determined to grasp every instruction, every explanation he was giving to me.
I began to realize the errors of my past. I began to see how much destruction and sadness I had brought to others in my life, by simply caring about nothing but my own desires.
I felt a deep shame for my past misdeeds and began to weep, softly, in sadness for how I had acted in the past. I wanted to die, at that moment, for I did not see how I could ever repair the damage I had done.
"Are you crying for your fate, slave," he snarled, tugging on the chain to get my attention again. "That is useless, you know, for you will never be able to return to your former position after this."
"Ohh, God, no, Master," I sobbed, shaking my head wildly. "I ... I am just so horrified at how I have lived. I just don't know what to do about it all!"
He smiled, and I felt the warmth of his concern and affection coming over me, then. "I will help you, little slave," he told me, his voice so soft and soothing, I wanted to grovel at his feet in thanks. "I will help you with my love for you, for I love you more than anyone ever could!"
I sobbed openly now, hugging his legs and weeping uncontrollably against them. "Ohh, Master, Master, give me your love, let me earn your reward, please," I moaned. "I am so worthless! Help me to be a good servant, I beg of you!"
"There, there, little slave," he consoled me, patting my head gently. "Don't you realize you have passed the first test, that there is no greater love, than that of a slave for her Master!"
The crowd agreed, urging me to beg for more forgiveness. "At his feet, slave, plead for his mercy and discipline," voices commanded me.
I slipped down along his ankles, burying my head between his booted feet. "Ohh, God, punish me, Master, wash the sins of my past out of me, I beg of you," I groaned. "Please, please save me, Master, save me!"
Johnathan snapped his fingers and a whip was quickly produced. He handed the leash to another man and laid the long, thick strand of the whip across my naked shoulders. I felt its cold, rough texture weighing down on me, and I shivered in fear.
"You must be cleansed, slave," he told me, raising his arm and lifting the whip high above his head. "This will help to free you of your self-centered ego!"
The whip cracked hard against my back as he let it fall, and I screamed in pain and shock. I was dropped to my face by the blow, but quickly, the other man pulled on the leash and drew me to my hands and knees again.
"The first lesson is to never try and escape your Master's discipline," Johnathan growled, lashing me once again. "Each blow is designed to help you, bitch!"
The pain was intense, but I remained on my fingers and knees this time, accepting the pain and force of the strike. I was seared with agony, but I was determined to endure anything to win his love and approval, now.
He struck me again, this time across the buttocks and my ass rocked with the attack, my flesh burning as if touched with a white hot iron. He explained that the second blow was to teach me the reward of making mistakes.
The third blow was to help me to realize how worthless and unneeded I was. "You are fortunate to have a Master that bothers to take an interest in you," he hissed, cracking the whip across my spine. "For you truly aren't worth the trouble!"
That is what I was beginning to learn. That slaves should be more than grateful for their Master's discipline, that they are so useless and worthless, that' they should consider themselves lucky that anyone bothers with them.
Only when a slave begins to realize how utterly without any value they are, will they begin to understand the debt they owe to their Masters. A true slave eagerly looks forward to punishment, Johnathan explained, for it shows the depth of a Master's love for them, when he beats them.
As the blows continued, I still felt the agony and shock of each blow, but I was slowly beginning to welcome them, for each one of them told of the care and compassion he had for me.
He could have ignored me, he said, could have allowed me to simply go on being the foolish, worthless scum that I was, but he had taken enough of an interest in me to help me see the light, he told me.
"You have been selected, you should be honored," he hissed, smacking the whip against my shoulders again. "You should be begging me to beat you harder, to lash you until you drop, for my love for you is more than you could ever deserve, slut!"
Again and again he cracked the cruel, black instrument against my exposed and eager flesh. Each blow filled me with a warmth and comfort I had never known could exist. I felt more loved and cared for than I ever did before, and I desperately tried to offer him as much skin to attack as I could.
"Ohh, God, God, thank you, Master, thank you," I sobbed, the tears of joy mixing now with the tears of agony. "I feel so worthless, so ashamed! Harder, Master, please, beat me harder!"
I knew then, that I was more lucky than I ever had been before in my life. I had been aching for something like this without even knowing it. I had been searching for a Master for so long, I had completely been wrong when I thought I was searching for control myself.
I was terrifed of losing his affection, then, frightened to death that he would change his mind. I felt all the weight of my past melting away from me with each blow that he struck and I wanted nothing more then, than to hear his words of approval and be assured that he would not abandon me.
"I will do anything you ask, Master, anything," I sobbed, shivering with more fear of rejection than any amount of pain he could have inflicted upon me. "Please, please let me serve you, Master, please let me be your slave!"
He struck me once more on the shoulders, this time so hard that I could not keep upright from the force of the blow. This final strike drove me flat to the tile and I felt the coolness of it against my tear-stained cheek.
His foot came down on my head and held me tight to the floor. "Are you now willing to forget your past?" he asked me. "Are you now ready to surrender your total being to my will?"
I groaned, trying to hold back the choking gasps in my throat. "Ohh, God, yes, Master, yes, I am yours," I said, the words falling broken and strained from my lips. "I have no life anymore, but yours, none at all!"
I was not lying, either. A part of me still thought in terms of myself, the part that was desperate for his interest and love. But more and more of me was thinking only in terms of him, only in terms of what would satisfy and please him.
I was giving my soul to his command, now, giving my whole being to him completely. All I wanted was to forget everything about myself and live only in terms of his desire and will. If I could accomplish that; I thought, I would truly be whole.
Life, for me, had no meaning without his affection and concern. It had no purpose if I could not live it in terms of his wants and needs. I felt the emptiness of my existence filling my heart and I almost fainted from the sorrow and despair of that, as much as from the blood that was pouring from my ripped and torn back.
I realized then, how truly worthless I was. I realized that I did not deserve his affection. I did not deserve to have him discipline .me, for I was not worthy of his care and ownership.
Hopelessly, I understood that there were thousands of others more valuable to him. Thousands of better and more worthwhile slaves, and the shock and horror of my complete uselessness made me weak and empty.
I had nothing left, then, no hope and no purpose. At that moment, I wanted to die. I did not care about anything, then. All the control I had had over others, all the fawning friends that surrounded me meant nothing.
I had been so stupid and scum-like, that I did not see how it would be possible for me to earn even a portion of Johnathan's love. To me, it seemed incredible, then, that he even bothered to show me how wrong I had been.
I lay on the tile, moaning and sobbing, my lips roaming back and forth over his boots, kissing them wildly in an attempt to show him, somehow, how much I wanted to receive his wonderful compassion.
"Little slave, little worthless animal," he whispered softly, bending down and taking my chin between his fingers. "How much trouble you are, how much work I would have to put into you," he sighed.
I gulped, frantically. "I know, Master, I know," I moaned, trembling so violently, I felt my head would leap from his grasp. "But, please, Master, please, give me a chance! Oh, God, I beg of you, give me a chance to earn your love and affection!"
He gazed thoughtfully into my eyes. "You are truly ready to live for only me," he said softly, making it not a question at all. "You are now ready to erase any thoughts of yourself and devote your life to me?"
I nodded, without even thinking about it. "Yes, truly, yes, Master," I told him, fighting to get my voice under control. "I would live only for you, Master, for I do not matter any longer!"
A sudden, overpowering peace filled my heart at that point, for I realized, with a joyful shock, that I was not lying. That I was not merely trying to get what I wanted any longer.
"I love, Master," I said, humbly.
Even though I knew that serving him would make me happy, that was 'not why I was so desperately telling him this. I truly wanted to serve him, truly wanted to do all and anything that he commanded me.
In the brief few moments of understanding, I came to see that I was already thinking in terms of the joy and happiness I would feel when I did as he asked. I was already feeling a bit of the serene pleasure I am sure the woman in the leather outfit felt at being the dutiful slave of her Master.
I felt no fear, then, no worry or doubt. My life had changed its course and I would never go back to what I was. I was now a slave, happily, joyfully a slave. When I thought, it was with my Master only, in mind. When I acted, it was to do his bidding, to fulfill his needs and wants.
I knew then, that no matter what his answer was, it would not make any difference. If he rejected me, I would be happy, for that was what would make him happy, if he accepted me as his servant, I would be happy also, for that meant he would be pleased to have me serve him.
I felt so wonderful, so certain then, that I barely heard him when he finally replied.
"All right, little slave," he told me, gently. "I will give you the chance, I will let you serve me. Perhaps, under all that worthless scum, a good slave exists after all. You now belong to me!"
At first I did not understand him, then the absolute bliss overwhelmed me as I began to realize he was going to let me be dominated by him. It was too much happiness for me, and I began to black out.
As the world slipped away from me, however, I did not fear, nor did I despair. I knew, as the darkness closed in on me, that when I awoke, he would have a task or service for me to perform that let me slide into unconsciousness without any worry or fear at all. When the I came back, I knew, I would be a slave, and that was more than I could have ever needed to feel alive.
THE STORY OF FELICITY
I can remember, now, with aching pleasure, the day I became a slave. The memory now fills me with such longing and contentment, that I do not know if any other moment can fill me so completely as that one.
For sure, at the beginning, I was not nearly as understanding of things as I am now. No, I was as vain and stupid as any other slave before she realizes how truly fortunate she is.
Up until that point, I had lived as so many others do, without the peace and serenity that a slave feels. I had lived a life of seeking some destiny that I foolishly thought was determined by what pleased me alone.
I had no idea that my true happiness lay in the willing, eager service of my Master. I was empty, but did not know why, and until that day, I thought it was because I had not succeeded in the world of business that I had chosen.
My name is Felicity and though the facts of my life before my slavery are not all that important, but I suppose I should tell of them, anyway. I was born into a wealthy family.
That alone should tell you of the dangers presented to me while I was growing up. My mother died soon after I was born, and thus I became my father's pride and joy. To no end I exploited that.
I soon learned how much I could manipulate the poor man, and before I was ten years old, I had him wrapped around my little finger. By the time he realized what I had done, I was well into my teens and he could do little to control me.
My father wanted me to go to college and marry, but I defied him, wishing to go my own way, of course. I forced him to secure me a job in a publishing firm, which he did not like, but did so anyway.
Since the firm had little assets and was on the verge of going broke, I made my poor father buy the owner out and set me up as president. God, how I loved that power. Young editors and writers cowered at my slightest glance of displeasure, and I ruled the firm with an iron hand.
I was worthless as a president, made many, many bad decisions, but I did not care. Anyone that disagreed with me soon found themselves on the street, or kept their thoughts to themselves.
I paid everyone the lowest wages possible, while of course, living myself in the most luxurious style possible. I had a beautiful, huge office, and made everyone else exist in a single, large room.
I could not get the best help, because of my pay and my manner, so I ruthlessly exploited those that were new in the field, or needed work, desperately. My own chief editor was a man who had drank himself out of his last job, and I kept him constantly on edge with threats of dismissal, just to amuse myself.
All this went on for a year, and I began to get bored of working. I decided to take a vacation, though I was needed at the firm to make decisions. Just to torture my staff, I told them I was leaving despite the problems, and warned all of them that if I came back and found things worse, I would fire them all. Of course, it was going to be impossible for them to do anything, but I did not care about, that, just seeing them worried and terrified was pleasure enough for me. The firings would be a delicious coming home present to myself, I thought.
I was just packing at home when the door bell rang and I went to answer it, feeling very irritated with whomever it was that dared to bother me. I yanked it open without asking the name of my caller and a pair of big, ugly brutes shoved their way into my apartment.
I was about to demand from them what they were doing there when one of the men quickly locked my arms around my back and the other shoved a cloth against my mouth and nose. Fumes invaded my nostrils and I kicked helplessly for the few seconds it took for the drug to render me unconscious.
When I awoke, I was in a small, dark room that smelled of dank, still water. I was shivering, still clad in my shorts and blouse, and when I moved my arms, I found that my wrists were chained to a shackle in the wall.
I was more angry than anything else, and I began to scream and shout in rage. I went on for about fifteen minutes, I suppose, before the door to my cell was opened and the two brutes that had invaded my apartment stepped into the small cell, followed by a pleasant looking man in his forties.
"Now, now, Felicity, you must stop shouting," he said. His voice was soft and controlled and very cultured. "It will do you no good, and you have much to learn in the short time that you are our guest!"
"Release me at once," I hissed, yanking on the cuffs that held me to the wall. "At once, do you hear, or I swear, I'll make you pay dearly for this!"
I had expected anything but what happened next. One of the brutes doubled up his fist and punched me so hard against the side of my head, that I slammed into the wall with enough force to break the skin on the other side.
I shuddered in response to the blow and' groaned with shock and pain, almost not hearing the harsh growl that accompanied his words.
"Don't speak to the Master that way, slave," he hissed angrily. "You'll learn to use the proper tone of respect, or we'll beat it into you!"
"That's all right, Carl," the man in his forties said, softly. "Felicity has not learned the reason for her visit here as yet, I'm sure when she does, she will cooperate, fully, won't you, my dear?"
He nodded to the man and Carl unlocked my cuffs. My head was clearing and I tried to stand, but was immediately knocked to the floor with another punch. "On your knees in front of the Master, scum," Carl growled at me. "And keep your head bowed until you are told to do otherwise!"
The rage was beginning to leave me, now. It was being replaced by fear and a sense of helplessness that I had never had before. I wasn't used to being in this position, to say the least, and I instinctively realized that I was powerless, at this point
"Help her up, men, and bring her along," the man in his forties said, cheerfully. "We have much to show her, and our time is quite limited!"
The two men lifted me to my feet and kept a firm grip on my arms as we moved into the hallway. It was a long, narrow corridor, and as we moved down toward a room that light streamed out of, the man told me his name.
He called himself Dr. Beller and he explained that he had been paid to teach me certain things. I spoke up, forgetting myself, and demanded to know who had paid him, receiving a punch in my side for my trouble.
"Keep your worthless tongue, silent, bitch," growled Carl, after he struck me. "I don't want to have to warn you again, slave!"
I had no idea why he was calling me a slave, but I quickly decided not to say anything more for awhile. I did not relish risking another blow when I seemed to get no answer anyway.
When we reached the end of the corridor, the door men waited until Dr. Beller was inside, then they forced me into the room, behind him. The light was very, very bright and it took a few moments to adjust my eyes to the glare.
As I was blinking, Dr. Beller elaborated on things, for me. "You see. Felicity, from time to time, people seek out my services." he told me, as the two men led me further into the room.
"They know of my training and my success and they wish to profit from it. It. costs them a great deal of money, but I've never had any complaints so far," he chuckled, then added, softly. "After all, it costs a great deal to train a perfect and obedient slave. Wouldn't you agree?"
My eyes were clear and adjusted now and the sight that I beheld made me suck in my breath in shock. Before me was a scene unlike any other I had encountered before and it both sickened and frightened me at the same time.
Aside from various other devices that were obviously used for torture, there was one particular sight that appalled me. There, just a few steps in front of me, was a helpless, almost naked young woman of about my age.
She was dangling in the air, suspended from a chain that was hung from the ceiling. Her left wrist was bound by rope to one of the links of the chain, her right wrist, bound by a length of rope to the ankle of her right leg.
The leg had been slipped through a ring at the end of the chain, and she hung there, her body trembling with the tenseness and pain of her imprisonment She was naked but for a pair of black, leather boots that came to her mid-thighs, and over her head, completely covering it, was a leather cowl of the same material as the boots.
There was a small hole in the back of the cowl for her hair, and the long blonde strands, righted by a length of leather cord into a pony tail, hung down from her covered skull.
I could hear her breathing, wild and erratic, as she slowly moved back and forth in the air, her body jerking and jarring with sudden shudders. I turned to Dr. Beller, my eyes wide with horror and he chuckled softly.
"I know it is hard to believe, my dear Felicity, but it is real," he said, his eyes twinkling with obvious pleasure. "This dear child is one of my better subjects, I shall prove it to you!"
He moved quickly over to the woman and spoke softly to her. "Lisa, this is Dr. Beller, how are you my dear?" he asked, warmly. "Do you wish to give me some entertainment right now, my dear?"
"Ohh, yes, Doctor, yes please do," she moaned, shivering as she turned her covered head to his voice. "Please, do what you wish, Master, I am only here to serve you!"
"That's good, my dear, very good," Dr. Beller said in an approving voice. He took a lighter from his pocket and to my horror, lit the candle that I now noticed was poised beneath the woman's naked, shaven crotch.
I screamed as the flame took hold and instantly the fiery wick began to sear and lick at the woman's naked flesh. I could smell the smoldering odor of burnt flesh and heard with horror her agonized cries.
I was about to rush forward and attempt to put out the flame, when the grip of the two men tightened on my arms and I felt them forcing me to my knees. I groaned, not even bothering to struggle, then heard something I could not believe.
The woman was crying out, yes, sobbing and wailing in pain, but she was not begging for mercy, was not pleading for the flame to be stopped. No, incredibly enough she was sobbing, it seemed, for joy.
"Ohh, God, Master, it hurts, it hurts so wonderfully," she groaned, twisting and turning over the flame, her loins becoming black with the searing fire. "Thank you, Master, thank you for this punishment!"
Dr. Beller laughed in delight, clapping his hands in satisfaction. "Do you enjoy it, my dear, enjoy entertaining me?" he asked, though his voice told me he already knew what her answer would be.
"Ohh, yes, Master, yes!" she moaned loudly. "I can hear the pleasure in your voice and it fills me with peace and happiness! Burn me, Master, burn me for you and only you can love me this well!"
She went on like that, thanking him, praising him, pleading with him to find her worthy of what he was doing to her. To me, it was the most insane thing I had ever heard, though I could not deny a certain fascination with what I was seeing and hearing in that room.
"You see, my dear Felicity, do you see?" Dr. Beller said to me, his voice stern and commanding. "She lives to give me pleasure, lives to make me happy. Soon you shall be as anxious to make me happy as she is!"
"You're insane," I moaned, shaking my head, trying to avoid the view in front of me. "You must be mad! I shall never become that way, never!"
I felt the grip on my arms relaxing and I leaped to my feet. I raced to the door and just reached it, when Carl caught hold of my wrist and spun me around. His fist crashed into my mouth and my head slammed against the frame of the door, knocking me unconscious in a matter of seconds.
When I came to, I was strapped to a table, a needle slipping into my arm. I winced in pain and felt a sudden, lazy kind of pleasure invading my system. Dr. Beller was leaning over me, gazing at me with great interest.
"This drug will help you to relax," he explained in a soft, soothing tone of voice. "And it will allow you to free yourself from care, and be more willing to accept what I am about to tell you."
I tried to fight the drug, but it was so strong, that in a matter of minutes, I felt calm and content, unable to fight with my mind, the instructions I began to receive from the pleasant looking man.
He recounted my past for me, and I realized at once, that he knew everything about me. He explained what a wrong-minded woman I had been, how I had infected myself with the illness of ego and self-will.
"You should not be suffering from that," he told me warmly. "You should be basking in the joys of total commitment to a Master, and that is why you are here!"
He began to explain the virtues and beauty of slavery to me, and I found myself quite unable to resist his encouragement. He told me that a slave has no worries in the world, other than her Master's well being.
"Soon, you will not have to concern yourself about your own pleasure and happiness," he told me, excitedly. "Soon, all those cares will be in your Master's hands, my hands at the beginning, and you can free your mind for other, more important things."
Though I was trying to resist him with all my will, it was growing more and more impossible to do so. I could not deny that it was a great effort to live my life, a great problem to make myself happy.
"Don't you see, my dear," he told me, brushing my hair from my eyes. "Don't you see how hard and troubled this way of living has made you? Wouldn't you feel so much better, if you were freed from this awful responsibility?"
I could not argue with that. All of a sudden, the very need to think for myself became a burden. I felt the weight of my own self-gratifacation coming down on me, making me weak and trembling with exhaustion.
Each time he spoke of the pleasure of serving him, my loins grew warm and tingling with a sexual delight I had not known before. Try as I might, I could not seem to escape the enticing offer of happiness he was explaining to me.
Though a part of me knew it had to be because of the drug he had given to me, a larger part of me was more intrigued by the ideas he had. I wondered about that, wondered what it would be like to be enslaved by someone.
I could not deny it was an exciting thought to me. Often, while I was growing up, I used to yearn that my father would lash out, smash me to the floor for my smart mouth and defiant manners.
I wanted to be ordered about, I realized, and the shock of that recognition made me want to weep with despair. I had never realized that about myself, and I trembled with the awesome understanding of it.
I had been so demanding and had gotten my wishes granted so often, that I had long since forgot the simple pleasures of being told no. On the rare ocassion that my father put his foot down, I had felt such peace and joy, that I could hardly believe it. It was almost sexual in its nature and I yearned to feel those joys again.
"Do not cry, Felicity," Dr. Beller whispered lovingly,, brushing the tears from my eyes. "You are here to be helped to see the light, the correct way for you to live. I am going to do all that's in my power to teach you that, I promise you!"
And so, my training began. At first, the nagging doubt would not leave me. I was given daily injections of the drug, but somehow, I could not escape my ego and my desire to resist the instruction.
But Dr. Beller was marvelously patient and kind. He went over and over everything, pounding his training into my skull, breaking through the horrible wall of defiance that all the years had built up.
"You must learn to erase your thoughts of yourself," he told me. Pointing to his chest he would go on. "You must let the vision of me fill your mind at all times. Never, ever let me leave your thoughts."
I tried hard. Each time something would come into my mind, so idea or desire of my own, I would push it away, drive it deep down to free myself of its power and hold on my mind.
I would try desperately to think of him and how he might wish me to act or respond to a question or command. I would see his face, kind and concerned and want to weep for the weakness that overwhelmed me.
I was learning fast. I was beginning to understand that while I had thought I was happy and content being the way I was, in fact, I truly wasn't. All I had been doing was avoiding the true identity that I sought.
I fought for years against my father, all the time wishing to serve him. If he had beaten me, or commanded me more often, I might not have become the cold and hurting bitch that I was.
But it was more than that, I began to realize, much more. I still had a sense of myself outside my Master, and that had to be destroyed. The secret to everything, the good Doctor explained, was realizing that I was nothing without him.
"You do not exist," he told me. "You do not have any form or shape outside of my thoughts. You are only real in terms of me, alone, you are nothing more than smoke or foul air."
I found out too, that being a slave is a gift that only a Master can grant you. Being a slave depends totally on the goodwill of your Master, and to be rejected by him is worse than the most terrible and painful of beatings.
I would observe Lisa, her body tortured and beaten, scared by knives and many other instruments of pain, weeping uncontrollably if Dr. Beller so much as gazed at her with a troubled look.
She was very helpful to me, for through her, I began to understand how lucky I truly was. Dr. Beller was the most important Master in the world, she informed me, for it was he that had invented the process for training.
When the Doctor entered a room, Lisa would fall at his feet, groveling and begging to clean his boots with her tongue. She would offer to endure any sort of punishment from him, plead with him to hurt her.
I began to grow jealous of her willingness to take his punishment and suffer the pain of his discipline. I wanted the huge amount of care and love that his beatings showered upon Lisa's flesh.
I too wished to be a good and faithful slave. Slowly, my mind began to think only in terms of the Doctor and what would make him happy. The jealousy would not go away, nor would the nagging doubt, but I was learning.
We were taught many things by the Doctor, one of the most important, was the thrilling enjoyment of the pleasure that his inflicted pain could give us. I had never known that agony could be so pleasing before, but through him, I began to realize how truly blissful it was.
His drugs helped, for they somehow heightened one's sensations to the point of complete experience. He would inject me and then slash my buttocks with a belt or whip, each blow more painful than the last, until I was sobbing with delight, my loins dripping with the creamy fluid of my pleasure.
We learned how to behave in front of a Master, how to keep one's eyes on the floor while anticipating whatever he might wish next. The most important thing, we were told, was seeing to it, that your Master did not have to do anything for himself, unless he wished to.
"It requires a great deal of intensive thought and practice to become a good slave," he told me, watching carefully as I served the table one evening. "One must reach the point of knowning exactly what her Master might require next."
I came right down to how much food to put on a plate. Any slave that could not sense the correct amount, was worthless, I was informed. A slave should know almost before the Master knew, just how much he wanted.
"If you can't reach that point, then you are simply unworthy and should not be allowed to serve," he said, and my heart filled with terror that I might never reach the stage of awareness required.
Not to be able to serve, not to be able to be disciplined and commanded became the most horrifying and sorrowful thought I could ever have. I spent many a sleepless night trembling in horror that I might not be worthy enough for him.
I wanted, by then, nothing more than to be accepted as his servant. To hear him tell me, at last, that I was truly a perfect slave. I lived for the day when I would finally reach the point of pleasing him totally.
My old way of life was by then, completely forgotten almost. I still had lingering memories, which rightfully, I should not have had. A good slave remembers nothing of yesterday, the Doctor told me, for she is too busy thinking about her Master's needs and wants today.
Life is nothing without serving, he said. Life has no meaning if your are alone and without a guiding Master. I believed this, believed it with all my heart I knew the loneliness of freedom too well. The past had been full of empty freedom, now I wanted to be consumed by the richness of slavery.
I tried hard to wipe out my memories. They made me guilty, which was a self-indulgent pasttime in itself, I was told. To feel guilty, is to consider your own thoughts and concerns, another violation that a good slave would not commit.
When a slave makes a mistake, she willingly, happily accepts the punishment, not because she feels guilt, but because that means the Master loves her enough to discipline her for her actions.
The joy of a Master's punishment can not be equaled by anything, I learned, for it reaffirms your worth and value to him. Each blow is an indication of how much he loves you, and your pain is the measure of that love.
I ached to experience the ecstasy of his punishment. Nothing could please me more, it seemed than to have him beat me, but still, it wasn't enough. Lisa still endured, and therefore was loved, more by him.
I was vainly jealous of her, when I should have been happy that she pleased my Master, so. I wanted to be in her place, and that meant, of course, I was thinking of myself over the Master.
I felt weak and stupid and very, very depressed. I could not seem to rid myself of this awful and selfish feeling. I tried hard, doing my best to please Dr. Beller, but no matter how much I felt his love come to me, it was still not enough.
I began to think I would never reach the point I so desperately wanted to achieve. I felt I was too far gone, too much into my own thoughts and wants to be able to ever erase them completely.
I did my duties well, I served him to the best of my ability, but there was a deep emptiness inside of me, for I knew I was truly not worthy of his love and affection. I had no right to be his slave, and it pained me deeply to know that.
One evening, when I could no longer endure the jealousy I harbored and the sense that I was flawed to the marrow of my bones, I requested to see my Master alone.
He was puzzled as I lay face down at his feet, sobbing wildly and uncontrollably. "My pet, my dear Felicity, what is the matter?" he asked me, his voice so kind and comforting that it made me weep all the more.
Breathlessly, I blurted out the truth to him. "Ohh, Master, Master," I moaned. "I am so weak, so selfish, I am not worthy to be serving you, I am not!"
"Why do you say that, my dear?" he said, nudging my chin with the toe of his boot. "Why are you thinking this way? Don't you realize that such thoughts insult me, tell me you do not think me perfect? Why else would I have chosen you, if I was not correct in all my decisions?"
"You see, Master, you see?" I wailed. "See how poisoned my mind is! God, please, help me, Master, cure me of this horrible imperfection!"
I quickly explained my jealousy to him and how it horrified and sickened me. He listened thoughtfully then nodded and spoke softly to me. "Tonight T have some guests coming over. We shall need a little entertainment, you will provide it," he said, simply, then ushered me out of the room.
I did not feel any more relieved than when I walked in, but at least he had not rejected me, I thought. At least he had not cast me out. I would try my best to please him, I decided, for that was all I could do.
I did not serve the meal that evening, I waited, impatiently, in the torture chamber, for him and his guests to arrive. I was dressed in a sheer, white gown and standing erect and proud when they finally filed into the room.
They took their seats in front of me, then Dr. Beller made his way to where I was standing. "This slave came to me," he informed them, pointing at me. "And told me of her secret thoughts. She has been weak and unworthy, I could force-her to leave, withdraw my love for her, but I shall not do that!"
He took hold of my gown and quickly pulled it over my head, revealing my firm, nude body to the greedy eyes of the men seated in front of him. They drank in my features with obvious delight, and I was please, for his sake, that I looked so well.
"Instead," he continued. "I shall punish her, punish her as she has never been punished before! I shall cause her more pain than she could ever have imagined, and then, perhaps, she will see the error of her foolish thinking.
Carl and Alfred, Dr. Beller's other helper, quickly took hold of my arms and dragged me toward one of the torture devices in the center of the room. They positioned it so all could see, then began to fasten me to it.
I was trembling with fear and anticipation, for though I had never seen it in use before, I had gazed upon this particular instrument before, and its possiblities for agony were more than obvious to me.
"Now you shall learn," my Master growled.
The device was tall and narrow, with shackles at the top and the base. My wrists and ankles were locked into these, leaving me helpless. About chest high, on a small ledge were a pair of wicked tong-like things that jutted out like jaws over and beneath my breasts.
Between my legs and beneath my crotch, extended a long board, in which a number of thick, needle-tipped spikes protruded. This board was operated by a small crank on the other side of the rack, which also controlled the opening and closing of the tongs.
I stood there, trembling as the Doctor inspected my imprisonment. I was quite helpless and so fearful and anxious that the nipples of my breasts were now fully erect, quivering as I began to breathe laboriously.
Dr. Beller nodded and placed his hand on the crank. "Observe, Gentlemen," he said as he slowly began to turn the crank. "Watch how she will happily submit to the punishment she so richly deserves!"
He turned to me, his eyes cold and demanding. "You have been stupid and weak, haven't you slave?" he said harshly. "Haven't you put your own petty little desires before my wants and needs?"
"Yes, yes I have, Master," I gasped, shivering as I looked down and saw the tongs closing over my breasts and the spiked board rising up between my trembling thighs. "Yes, and I ache for your punishment, Master, I ache for it, now!"
"You shall have it, slave," Dr. Beller growled, continuing to turn the crank with an agonizing slowness. "Soon you shall feel the agony of your selfishness! Soon you shall have the pain you require to teach you a lesson!"
I was sweating now, the slippery moisture riding down from between my thighs and under my arms. I felt the teeth of the tongs bite into the fleshy mounds of my breasts and I gasped in shock and pain.
Beneath me, the spikes of the board were pressing against my cunt, pricking me and stinging me as they slowly began to embed themselves in my quivering mound. I gulped frantically and shuddered uncontrollably.
"Ohh, hurt me, Master, hurt me, please," I sobbed, feeling the first real pain come over my breasts and cunt. "Ahh, God, I need it, Master, I need your punishment so badly, now!"
Deeper the tongs dug into my breasts. I screamed as the sharp bits sank into my spongy globes. The pain grew more intense and my eyes misted with a red shimmering wall as beneath me, the spikes of the board bore into my loins.
The Doctor turned the wheel as slowly as he possibly could. He wanted to make sure that I endured every second of agony before he w finished. He had no intention of hurrying the job, nor of cutting short the torture by a single moment.
Never had I experienced anything this before. He had beaten me, slapped me, whipped me. I had been kicked and sexually abused by him and his men, but never had anything been this intense.
I screamed uncontrollably as the tongs and spikes drove into my flesh. I could feel my own warm blood seeping from the punctures, dripping in lazy rivers down over my belly and limbs.
I twisted and turned in agony, driving the cruel metal deeper into me. I sobbed and wailed now, almost driven mad by the power and complete torture of the pain.
There was nothing else for me at that point, but the agony. I sweated rivers, now, the salt stinging my eyes, the moisture mingling with my blood. I was seared as if by burning irons as the Doctor turned the crank relentlessly.
I shivered with my agony, feeling it overwhelm me, now, take complete control of my very being. I sobbed and shuddered on the board, unable to stand. When I sat, one of the spike drove deep into my fleshy buttock and I screamed anew.
"Yes, slave, yes," growled Dr. Beller, twisting the crank until it would go no further. "Feel the hurt, feel the agony! You are paying, slave, paying for your thoughts right now!"
I was not able to speak, my breath was harsh and erratic, my lungs strained for the slightest bit of air I could inhale. My whole body felt on fire and I wondered just how much I could endure.
But as the Doctor stepped back from the rack, inviting all the other men to take a closer look at me, I began to see, through the mist of my pain, just what his torture truly meant to me.
An overpowering joy filled me, my cunt became moist and throbbing with obvious pleasure. I began to understand that Dr. Beller, my loving Master, truly felt that strong about me.
He was inflicting more pain and damage on me, than he had ever done to Lisa, so that meant he really did care for me. He would not be doing this, if it were otherwise, and I cried out in joy as I finally realized that.
"Thank you, Master, thank you," I sobbed, rocking back and forth on the board now, hurting my breasts and loins all the more, thrilling to each new spasm of pain. "Thank you for punishing me, Master, thank you for it so much!"
Dr. Beller did not answer, he did not have to. I knew that my tortured cries of pleasure and thanks had pleased him greatly. This was to be more of a demonstration, I understood, than an entertainment. He wanted to prove his methods to his prospective customers and I was truly helping him to do that.
I wailed and drove myself at the spikes and tongs. I felt my flesh being ripped and torn and a powerful wave of agonized pleasure swept over me. I was in exquisite ecstasy for having responded, finally, just exactly as I should.
God, what love I felt for him then. I felt as if I were truly special, truly a slave to be valued at last. I was serving my Master so well, so completely, that I could think of nothing else but the pleasure he was receiving out of my agony.
A faint swept over me, but I determinedly fought it off, unwilling to allow myself the relief of unconsciousness. I wanted to experience as much of this agony as I could, for each jarring, painful spasm was my reward for pleasing my Master.
How long I was on the rack, I do not know. I blacked out and came back, blacked out once more, unable to stop myself. My eyes shut and I could hear my Master telling the others in and excited voice:
"You see, Gentlemen, you see? The perfect, obedient and willing slave!"
When I awoke, I was bandaged and in a soft, comfortable bed. I had no trouble after that. My mind had been emptied, at last, of any thought of myself. After a couple more months, I was returned to the customer who had hired Dr. Beller.
I hated leaving such a marvelous Master, but when I returned home and found out that Brad, the poor manager I used to torment, had secretly arranged my training, I was overjoyed.
He was my Master now, and to prove it, he assembled the closest members of the staff and beat me viciously in front of all of them. I lay there, under his falling belt, not moving an inch, taking it all.
After he was through, I licked his shoes and pledged my undying devotion to him over and over again. He would now run things, he explained, using me only as a front. Of course the operation went much smoother at once, and every member of the staff was allowed to abuse me, in private, as much as they wanted.
Now, I am the luckiest slave in the world. I have over fifteen Masters and Mistresses and they all love me deeply. Not a day goes by that they do not punish me for some stupid thing I have done, and I live for each morning and the affection it promises.
I am a good slave, now, and will remain so for the rest of my life. Nothing matters to me anymore but pleasing those that command me, and I can not wait for the next order I am given. I tremble now, remembering that first day, and I relive it, each time one of them beats me. I can only hope I am worthy enough to serve them, for that is the one sure meaning in my life, this slavery that I have happily embraced.
THE STORY OF MARIANNE
Each day I try a little harder to live in my Master's shadow. Each day, I attempt to erase more of me. Soon, I hope, there shall be nothing left of my soul, aside from what he places there.
I live, now, only for his pleasure, only for the peace and contentment that I might bring him. When I have served him well, his smile his more reward than any gift I could receive.
When he punishes me, I feel the peace of knowing how much he loves me, in each blow he strikes.
Martin is my Master. He is not big, nor is he powerful in the flesh. But his mind towers above all others and his will is more intense than any man I have ever known. Only he could have subdued me, only he could have shown me my rightful place.
I knew Martin for years before I understood this. We went to school together and I used to toy with his affections whenever I would get bored with all my boyfriends. Even then, there was something about him that I did not understand, but drew me to him.
All through high school I injured him. I would use him shamelessly whenever I needed help with my studies, or a shoulder to cry upon. When he enrolled in a college, I did the same, though I pretended not to know it until we were both accepted.
Once there, I continued my cruel, self-serving game, using him again and again, even against the strong, powerful football players that wanted to take me out. Many times he suffered a beating over me, but not once did I offer him any attention or thanks at all.
When Martin dropped out of school to join the service, I lost track of him for five years.
During that time I married, strictly for money, and by pushing and prodding my husband, in much the same manner as I had handled Martin, he became ever wealthier. He worked so hard, that he suffered several heart attacks, none of which I cared about, and died suddenly of the last one.
I knew I had driven him to his grave, but I was totally bored with him at that point and was not unhappy to see him go. He left me very well off, so at the tender age of twenty-five, I was a widow, embarked on a world cruise.
It was in Paris that I ran into Martin again. I had heard about him, vaguely, for he had become quite successful in writing overseas, and when I saw him again, I knew at once that I wanted to have an affair with him.
I thought it would amuse me to finally allow him to love me as I knew he had wished to do for so many years. I thought it would be a pleasant fling, perhaps lasting a month or so, before I moved on.
At first, it appeared that that would be the manner in which we would be together. He wined and dined me, though he hardly could afford my tastes, and at the end of a week, I hinted that sex might be possible.
He invited me to share the weekend with him at a friend's house in the country, and though the idea bored me, I agreed, eager to see how much I could make him squirm before allowing him to sleep with me, if I did at all.
However, the first night in the small cabin, after dinner and wine, a change came over him. His eyes grew dark and menacing, and his voice, where slurred a bit before, became clear and compelling.
"I know what you are up to, Marianne," he hissed at me. We were deep in the woods at the time, but that did not bother me. "But you aren't going to have your way this time. This is my little game."
I smiled at him. "What do you mean, Martin?" I asked, innocently. I felt a vague sense of worry, but I shrugged it off.
He reached, suddenly across the table, taking hold of my throat and squeezing it ruthlessly in his grasp. I gagged and gripped his slender wrist with my hands, but I could not tear his fingers free.
"You'll find I have changed, little Marianne," he whispered coldly, rising from his chair and continuing to grip my throat as he made his way around the table. "You'll find I have learned a few things over the years!"
He threw me to the floor and I clutched at my throat, gasping for breath. "All my friends know of you, my dear," he snarled, driving his foot into my belly, knocking me over on my back. "And they will back me up in anything I say!"
"What ... what do you want?" I moaned, staring at him, my eyes wide with fear, now. "My God, Martin, you don't have to do this to sleep with me!"
He laughed savagely, reaching down and taking hold of the neckline of my dress. He pulled harshly and tore it from my shoulders, tugging and yanking until it fell in tatters from my body.
He tossed it aside and stared at me coldly. "Now the bra and panties, slave," he growled, his fist cocked for a vicious blow. "I like my servants nude, they look more humble that way!"
I was terrified of course, and determined to make him pay for this, once we got back to Paris. "All right, darling, all right," I said with a resigned sigh. "But this won't help my passion any, I promise you!"
Brutally he slammed his fist into my cheek, knocking me back against the fire place. "You stupid, worthless bitch," he snarled. "Do you actually think I care whether or not I have sex with you?"
He laughed wildly again, shaking his head. "That's just like you, Marianne, to think that one would find you so appealing," he smiled coldly. "I find you totally unstimulating, bitch.
A worthless piece of scum like you has no place near my loins."
"Then what do you want?" I hissed angrily, feeling insulted and enraged by him, now. No one had ever spoken to me like that, and the very idea that he did not desire me filled me with loathing for him and a desire to revenge myself on him.
"To make you my slave, scum," he said simply. His voice was quiet and calm, now, completely without emotion.
I stared at him in shock, hardly believing the words. "Yes, that's right, little pup," he chuckled quietly. "You are about to undergo a change, Marianne, you are about to find yourself in a new position."
I felt the urge to laugh at him, but something in his voice and eyes told me not to. He seemed bigger than before and gave off such a sense of power and control, such overwhelming confidence that I realized I had better hold my piece. More than that, I found myself not a little intrigued and excited by him, now. He was so different from the mild, easy-going boy I had known, that I could not help by be fascinated by him.
I wanted to know more about him, now, and found myself realizing even more, that I had never been so affected by a man in my life. I had been with many boys, a few older men, but all of them seemed to grateful to have me.
Each man I had loved, or offered myself to, threw himself at my feet, gave his will completely to me. It was amusing and I enjoyed the power, but this was something else again. This was new.
I thought, all right, I would play Martin's game. It might be amusing, and would probably be the only way for me to get back to Paris unhurt. He was obviously determined to have his way this weekend, and I was sure that a little sex would calm him down.
I smiled at him, sensuously and reached down to unfasten my bra. I clicked it free and tossed it aside, then slithered out of my panties and gazed at him to see his first reaction to my naked body.
I was disappointed and confused. He did not seem to be affected by it at all. I knew for years he would have given anything just to gaze upon my perfect flesh, but now, he did not seem to care.
He laughed again, as if reading my thoughts. "I have seen much better, little pig," he said quietly. "Your features do not affect me. I only want you naked for the little games I wish to use you for in my amusement."
He reached over and took me by the hair, pulling my head back with a cruel yank.
"Listen closely, bitch," he hissed furiously. "You are very lucky today, for I have decided to allow you to become my slave. Soon, soon you will beg to serve me, because I know how much you are going to love having me dominate and punish you!"
Though I did not believe a word of it, I could not help but begin to tremble with excitement as I listened to him. A strange, soothing warmth spread through my loins and to my surprise, I began to look forward to playing the role he had outlined for me. It might be fun to be a slave for awhile, I thought.
My loins were trembling violently at the prospect of being abused and forced to submit to him. In the past I had often played games similiar to this, but his, of course, seemed to be much more intensive.
I watched as he went to a cupboard on the far side of the room and took a small, leather harness from one of the shelves. He brought it over to where I was sitting on the floor and my eyes went wide as he dangled it in front of me.
"Put this on, bitch," he hissed, his fist cocked in a threatening manner. "I am going to give you your first taste of slavery right now!"
This was taking the game a bit too far, I thought as I stared at the horrible-looking thing that dangle from his hand. I wanted no part of it, for it was obvious designed to induce a great deal of pain.
I tried to rise to my feet, but his fist slammed into my face once more and my eyes were glazed by the power of the blow. As I lay there, stunned, I felt his hands quickly roaming over me, slipping me into the harness.
"Prepare for punishment, slave!"
There was a space between two straps that he shoved my head through. The front strap went down between my breasts, and the strap beneath them, wound around and buckled behind my back.
I gasped as he pulled it tight, then drew a hard, leather thong, studded with evil and sharp pointed spiked up underneath my buttocks and crotch. This was fastened by a ring to the strap behind my back and as he pulled it along my anal cleft and my shaven loins I screamed as the spikes tore into my flesh.
I felt him yank hard on the thong and the pain tore through me as if her were driving hot irons into my body. He slipped a hook through the top of the thong, locking the other end of the hook to a ring that dangled from the strap beneath my breasts. I struggled violently, but that only helped to grind the spikes into my flesh all the more.
I was trembling with pain and shock, staring down at the sharp spikes embedded in my flesh, my eyes wide with horror. The pain was constant and throbbing, and I dare not move for fear of gouging myself all the more.
Martin stepped back, gazing down at me with satisfaction. "Just how you should be, worthless scum," he chuckled viciously. "Now you are beginning to have the look of a slave!"
The pain was driving and horrible, a rolling agony that had no end to it. I sat there, shuddering uncontrollably, the blood beginning to seep from the punctures the spikes had made in my anal cleft and naked cunt.
He reached down and took hold of my nipples, erect now from the intensity of my agony and cruelly pinched them, hauling me upward to my feet. I screamed as the pain grew worse, a shimmering bright light in front of my eyes because of it.
"Ohh, dear God, Martin, please," I sobbed, the tears rolling from my eyes. "Please, please stop it, Martin, stop it! It hurts, it hurts!"
He laughed savagely, twisting my nipples viciously. "Of course it does, slave," he growled. "It is supposed to hurt, it is your punishment for the errors you have made in your worthless life!"
I gasped, the agony so powerful and overwhelming, I began to feel weak and light-headed. He shoved me against the fire place, my buttocks slamming hard, driving the spikes deeper into my fleshy half moons.
"Look, at me, slave, look at me, now," he hissed, taking hold of my chin with his right and turning my face to his. "I am going to explain a few things to you, and perhaps you will understand!"
As he stood me there, his hands kneading my breasts, rubbing my nipples in an erotic manner, he jerked on the hook every so often, pulling the spikes against my flesh to make a point.
He told me that for years he had hated me, hated me so much he had wanted to kill me. He was no fool, he had seen through all the games I had played with him. He wanted to punish me for them, and killing me seemed the most ideal way of doing that.
But living in Paris had changed his mind. He became more open to other ideas and had seen bitches such as I being brought to heel as they should. He had learned that slavery was a more ideal arrangement and he had often dreamed of making me his slave.
He hadn't figured on ever seeing me again, however, and when he did, his first thought was to avoid me at all costs. He hadn't wanted to go through the same things he had in the past.
"But then, through talking with my friends, we devised this plan for you, little slut," he told me happily. "We decided that you needed to be subdued at all cost. You needed to be put in your place."
And that was why I was there. By the time I left this place, he promised me, my whole manner of seeing things would be altered. I would be his willing and obedient slave, totally devoted to him, happy to serve his every whim.
"It will be an intensive weekend, I don't have much time, but I have been taught by the Masters of submission, bitch, and I shall accomplish my goal," he assured me.
I stood there, the pain becoming now a continuing throb, trying to clear my mind. I was more frightened than I had ever been before in my life, and this fear swept over me like a dark cloud.
His eyes were bright and fiery, but they were not those of a mad man. He was not giving me the impression of a man gone insane at all. Not, he was amazingly calm and controlled, as if he had the situation clearly in hand.
I could not think straight. I felt as if my world and understanding of it had suddenly been turned upside down. I gasped for breath and tried to move, but even the act of breathing increased the pain the impaling spikes gave me.
"Why, why are you hurting me, Martin?" I moaned, licking my lips frantically, for they were dry and raw, now. "Why are you doing this to me?"
He took hold of my hair and slapped me rudely across the cheeks. "Slave, you do not speak to your Master that way," he growled. "The first thing you must learn is to show the proper respect!"
He pushed me down to my knees again, and I cried out in agony as the action tore the spikes against my flesh, anew. When I was finally knealing in front of him, he jerked my head back violently and glared at me.
"I am not Martin to you, worthless dung, I am Master," he told me harshly. "When you are allowed to speak to me, you will address me as such, understand?"
"Yes ... yes, Master," I moaned, blinking my eyes to clear them of the tears. "Yes, yes, I understand, Master, I understand!"
"And, you will not even look at me unless I tell you to," he added grimly. "You have not yet earned the right to set your miserable, worthless eyes on your Master!"
He shoved my head down hard against my chest. "The floor is where you belong, slave," he hissed, pushing down hard, forcing me to bend over and put my head between my thighs. "Get to that floor, scum!"
I felt as if my mind were going to snap from the terror and pain I was experiencing.! never would have believed this could happen to me, and I shuddered violently, now, unable to keep from shaking and hurting myself because of it.
In an instant, it seemed, my life had been taken out of my hands. I realized how completely helpless I was, and then understood, also, that he had planned this very well. I was certain that he had dozens of people to swear he was in Paris all the while, and I knew at once, that I could get justice from the law because of it.
As the pain continued to throb through me, Martin locked his arms around my waist and pulled sharply. My legs flipped backward and I fell on my belly, driving the spikes in deeper.
I screamed as I felt his foot on my buttocks, pinning me to the floor. "You will crawl, slave," he told me ruthlessly. "And each crawl that you take, you will tell me how sorry you are for your miserable life."
I lay there on the floor, feeling the blood on my belly and thighs, concerned now with only doing as he asked. I was growing used to the agony of the spikes, it seemed, and the dull throbbing pain they produced.
I dare not lift my head to look at him, so I kept my cheek pressed tight to the rough wood floor, awaiting his command to move. I was quivering spasmodically, my mind whirling with a thousand thoughts.
"Crawl, slave, crawl and tell me how sorry, you are," he hissed, nudging my chin with his toe then stepping backward. "Crawl to your Master and beg his forgiveness!"
I did not want to move, but slowly I began to make my way toward the retreating boots. I gasped as the outer spikes caught on the wood and the inner ones ripped at my skin.
"Ohh, God, Master, God," I whispered, my voice broken with pain. "I am sorry, Master, sorry for my worthless life," I groaned.
He laughed in delight. "You deserve the pain, don't you scum?" he chuckled, his voice cold and brutal. "Tell me how much you deserve my punishment!"
"I deserve it, Master, I do," I wailed, crying out sharply as the spikes moved back and forth in my flesh. "I am so worthless, Master, I deserve everything I get!"
"And you love to be punished by me, don't you slut, don't you, slave?" he added, his voice growing louder and more urgent. "Don't you love to be disciplined by your Master? Don't you love his discipline, now?"
The effort of crawling toward his constantly moving boots was excruciating, but I continued, determinedly. I nodded, my head, damp with sweat, sliding. across the floor as I moved.
"Yes, Master, I love your pain, I love it," I moaned, rocking from side to side to spare myself the agony. "I love it when you punish me, Master, I love it!"
Martin was overjoyed by my words and he stopped, beckoning me with his toe. "Come slave, come to your Master's boot," he laughed in delight. "Come and see what love he has for you, come and take your reward!"
As I reached his shoes, he jammed his toe against my lips. "You make kiss my boot, slave," he chuckled savagely. "You are learning well, and I have decided you may clean my shoes for me with your tongue!"
Though my stomach revolted from the task, I gulped down determinedly and ran my tongue over the top-of his shoe. The boots were filthy, but I bravely continued, feeling the pain in my loins and buttocks settling down into a rhythmic agony.
As I went about the task of cleaning his boots, I began to feel a strange peace and contentment that I did not completely understand. He was putting me through more pain and agony than I had ever dreamed of, and the humiliation was far beyond something I could have imagined, but somehow, I liked it.
It shocked me, to be sure, but I found myself attacking his shoes with my tongue, eagerly, thrilling to the dirty taste in my mouth and the fact that he was forcing me to do things I would have fought with my life to escape, before this.
But something was happening to me, that I could only credit to the pain and shock that were assaulting me. I felt a warmth racing through my loins that was not the blood of my wounds.
Each time he laughed or flicked playfully at my cheek with his other shoe, I felt this rush of affection for him that shocked and frightened me. I could not understand what was happening to me.
"I see you enjoy my reward, slave," he chuckled softly, offering me his other shoe. "That is good, very good! An intelligent, hard working slave does well to enjoy her Master's gifts!"
When I had finished with the other shoe, he moved to the far side of the room and sat in a big, comfortable chair. I kept my eyes off of him, staring at the floor, breathing heavily as the pain continued to sweep through me.
"I wish you to make me a drink, slave," he said casually. "A scotch and water, please, and be quick about it!"
It took all my strength to pull myself to my feet and I gasped in red-misted pain as the spikes once more ground themselves into my flesh. My legs were streaked with my own blood and my body dusty with the dirt from the floor.
I went across the room and made him a drink with trembling hands, then slowly walked over to where he was sitting. He took the drink from the tray and tasted it, his voice gruff as he spoke.
"It's not bad, slave, you're learning," he said in a clipped manner. "You may rest yourself by the chair while I enjoy this, then we shall begin your training."
Gratefully I slipped to the floor. I felt a wave of sudden darkness coming over me and thought I fought it with all my will, the dark cover of unconsciousness suddenly enveloped me and I passed out without a sound.
When I awoke, my consciousness came back to me in a painful rush. I moaned and shivered, blinking my eyes against the harsh sunlight that was streaming through the windows. I moaned and then gasped in terror.
I was chained up to the ceiling, my arms shackled at the wrists, the chain looped over a beam and wrapped around my neck. I felt the choking weight of my own body dragging me down and I gagged, trying to restore my breathing again.
Martin was staring at me, a thin, evil smile on his face. I felt the fear, of course, but before I even knew it, an overwhelming and powerful love for him swept through me and made me want to weep.
What had I been doing, I wondered, to deserve this? Was my past so horrible? I thought hard about it, and realized, suddenly, that I had not been the best of people. I thought how cruelly I had treated him, then, and I did not blame him one bit for all of this, now.
"Ohh, Master, Master," I sobbed, nodding in grief. "I have been so stupid, so foolish, I have been horrible, simply horrible!"
"You certainly have, slave, and now I am punishing you for it," he told me, his voice soft and almost kindly. "And you shall welcome your punishment, won't you, for it will clean your foul soul of your worthless and evil past!"
My loins throbbed with the soreness from the spiked harness and my head pounded from his blows, but I felt myself nodding and agreeing completely with him. I did not wish to be that person any longer.
I wanted to somehow pay for my past, repent and wash myself of all those years. I no longer felt rage and anger toward, Martin, only love. He had shown me a new way of perceiving things, and I desperately, now, wanted his love in return.
"Ohh, Master, please, help me to do better," I moaned, my voice urgent and frightened. "Help me become what I must become! Help me with your love and discipline, Master, help me, now, please!"
Martin stepped over to where I was and nodded grimly. "Don't worry, slave," he said in a quiet, cold voice. "You will pay, and you will learn! I am going to show you how much I love you! I am going to show you how much a Master can care for a slave, no matter how worthless she is!"
He slipped a tiny noose around my right nipple and drew it tight I screamed with the sudden pain and watched as he drew the taut, elastic bar it was connected to around and over my other breast.
It was quite flexible, but the effort it took for him to slip the tonged other end of it over my right nipple showed on his face. He tightened down a wing nut and secured the tongs tightly around my tit then released the bar.
It sprang back, as far as it could go, to its original shape and pulled on both of my breasts.
The pain shot through me like a knife and my scream of agony filled the room. Martin smiled thinly, nodding with satisfaction at his work. He gave my body a slow inspection and I quivered violently with the throbbing hurt of my imprisoned breasts.
"Suffer with this pain, slave," he told me hurriedly. "Suffer for only by doing that, shall you become worthy enough to be my slave!"
I groaned and nodded, gulping wildly to swallow the hard lump in my throat. I began to understand everything, now, began to see completely what I must endure to become a valuable servant to him.
The years of my self-indulgent life had to be corrected, and only through this cruel, harsh punishment could that be accomplished. Suddenly, all I wanted in the world was to become worthy in his eyes.
"Ohh, God, Master, yes, yes," I moaned, the tears of joy and agony now mingling in my eyes. "Yes, I see now, I see what you must do! Ohhh, punish me, Master, punish your unworthy slave, please!"
"Do you deserve this, you worthless pig?" he hissed, his face just inches from my own. "Do you think you need this punishment?"
I wailed in grief and agony. My head bobbed frantically on my shoulders. "Yes, ohh, God, yes, I do," I moaned, moving my body purposely so that I would hurt myself all the more.
"I need this Master, I need this so badly," I told him, almost shouting now. "I need to be taught so many lessons, so many!"
His hands were exploring my flesh, now, pinching and cruelly attacking me in almost every place of my body. Shamelessly I felt the pleasure his torture was giving me, racing through me wildly, then.
I felt as if I were reaching some extreme point of love, some moment when I would completely understand just what real passion means. I hurt terribly, but the pain was now pleasing to me, for it told me I was ridding myself of my foolish past.
"What do you want out of your miserable life, now, slave?" Martin growled at me, his fingers kneading and caressing my torn and sore loins.
"Ohh, God, only to serve you, Master," I wailed, shivering with yet another agonized spasm of ecstasy that rippled through mc. "Only to do your bidding, only to make you happy, Master!"
He laughed wildly, tugging viciously on the taut, springy pole. A harsh, stinging spasm rippled through my breasts, but my cries of pain were now also of pleasure, and I nodded frantically with them.
"Ahh, you are becoming a good slave, a good one," he told me, his voice kind and loving, now. "You are finally ridding yourself of that shell of self-importance! Finally becoming the totally empty vessel of my wishes!"
It was true. I could hardly believe it myself, but it was true. I was not concerned with my own pain and agony, then, I was not thinking about that at all. What I was thinking about, was him, and how he might be feeling about this.
I shuddered and gasped, my lips quivering uncontrollably as I spoke. "Ohh, Master, it's so good, the punishment is so good," I moaned. "I love when you do this to me, Master, I love it!"
"It shows you how much I care for you, doesn't it, slave?" he laughed in delight. "It lets you know that you have my love and I have your best interests at heart!"
For me, it was more than that, much more. I felt all thoughts of myself slipping away from me, then, other than how I might suffer and please him more. I wanted to see the joy of my torture on his face. I wanted to bask in the warmth of his love for me with each new and more painful effect.
"Ohh, God, Master, abuse me, hurt me, please," I moaned. "I want to have all of your love, all of your pain! I am yours, Master, I am yours!"
I sobbed uncontrollably now. for it was finally clear to me. I had crossed the last barrier. I was no longer Marianne, I was merely whatever he chose me to be. I had no identity, now, save that which he gave me.
He let me linger on the dangling chains for hours, applying all manner of weapons to my flesh, until my body was raw and covered with cuts and welts. Each blow, each slice was more pleasing than the last.
When he finally set me free, he tended to my wounds, affectionately, and allowed me to serve him for the rest of the weekend. I happily did all he asked, all he commanded me to do, so grateful was I for his attention.
I cared nothing for my own agony or mutilated body, after that. Where once I might have been horrified and sickened by what he did to me, I now welcomed every attack. He explained to me that his love needed this disciplining to convince me of how much he cared for me, and I agreed with him.
But, more than that, I was basking in the delight of seeing him happy. Each time I was wounded, I could see the joy on his face and it made me want to endure even more pain for him.
I wanted nothing more than to become his totally. I wanted to forget everything about myself, wipe my mind clean of very single thought that did not concern him. It was not easy to do, but I bore down on myself relentlessly.
Being a good, perfect slave to your Master is hard work, and I had to struggle with the remnants of my past for a long time. There were certain weak parts of my mind that still allowed me to return to old ideas, and each time that I felt a surge of memory coming on, I begged him to punish me for it.
Happily, for me, my Master is a wonderful and loving man. He would beat me the first moment I had a sign of doubt. He cares so much for me, that he will inflict as many blows as it takes to put me on the right track.
By the time the weekend was over, I was so completely enthralled with my Master, that I could not bear to be taken back to the city. I begged him to let me remain there in the country, chained and gagged until he returned.
He would not allow that, however, he had other plans. He took me back to Paris and began to show me off to all his friends. At each party we went to, he humiliated me and heaped abuse on me, and I thrilled to all of it.
A beating or a tongue lashing was more evidence of his love, and by the time it came for me to return home, I wanted to stay. I hated the thought of leaving my Master, but he told me not to worry, for he was coming with me!
Now, I live totally in his shadow. Each day I grow more and more his slave and each day I feel more and more the bliss of serving him correctly. He runs the business now, much better than I could ever have done, and not a day goes by that I do not get the chance to serve him.
I would not change my station in life for anything, now, and when I think of my Master and the love he gives me, I grow misty-eyed and warm. Slavery has saved my life! Slavery, has made me whole.
THE STORY OF CATHY
I suffer for his love. I suffer for his every want and need, and I would have it no other way. I am his slave, and would die before I would take freedom.
My slavery is my happiness!
No one can truly know the joy I feel unless they too, suffer for the love of a Master as I do. One must truly become a slave in every way, to know how beautiful and fulfilling it is to serve.
I worked for a small firm in New York It was not much of a job, and provided me with much spare time. I liked that most of all, because I had come to New York for one reason only. To find a Master to serve.
As a child growing up, my father was strict and punishing. The slightest infraction of his rules brought a severe beating. This did not anger nor revolt me, for unlike my brothers and sisters, I found the discipline rewarding.
I enjoyed serving my father, enjoyed his regular beatings and punishments. Each time he would strike me, I could feel the love he had for me in his blows and I eagerly welcomed each and every one of them.
When he died, I felt none of the happiness and relief my family did. I only felt a glaring emptiness in my life that I desperately wanted to fill. I knew I could not find my desire in the small town I came from, so I moved to the big city as soon as I was old enough to do so.
You might think that finding a Master is easy, but it is not. There are many who would pretend to be dominant and powerful, to be able to totally control a slave, but most are just playing games.
Of course I answered many ads in the papers, but I found most of the men merely interested in pretending to enslave me, and all of them wanted sex. I certainly was not opposed to servicing a Master in that manner, but a true, loving Master is not so interested in sex as most of the men were.
A couple of times, I thought I had found the right man, but after one or two days together, I realized that he had not the strength and will to abuse and use me as he should, and thus, I could not feel overpowered enough by him.
I was growing very discouraged and lonely by then, and wondered if I could ever find the perfect man to enslave me. You see, pain is only worth something if you are suffering for your Master's love, merely to provide him with a sexual outlet is nothing if he does not love you.
Where, I wondered, would I find my Master? Where was the man that I had searched and dreamed for? I ached to feel his boot on my neck and his cold voice humiliating me. Sure, a thousand men can claim to want a slave, but they are all lying.
Then, one evening, I was invited to a party at the UN by my boss. He was a mousy little man that seemed to be dominated by his wife, and I had no fear that he would try anything with me, so I went.
His name is Ronald and Ronald seemed overjoyed that I should accept his invitation.
He quickly explained that his wife was ill, but knew everything about this, so I did not have to worry.
I told him not to concern himself, and even felt a little sorry for the man. Being so anxious to serve a Master, I could not help but feel for him, for a man's place is to control a woman, not the other way around.
Since I had found no Master, I sort of clung to Ronald during the evening and a delicious idea began to formulate in my mind. I stared at the small man, inspecting him as I had never done before.
Though he did not seem very striking, Ronald had a bold quality about him, at least when in the territory of his business, that I respected. I had seen him tell off men twice his size, with little or no fear, and I began to wonder if he did not have a potential that I hadn't noticed before.
Could I, I wondered, turn him into a Master? Would it be possible to create my own harsh, loving and dominating being? I was certain that rage burned deep inside of him, and that he had all that was needed to explode, once the correct fuse was lit.
As the party progressed, we both became more and more drunk. I was not used to drinking, and neither was he, but I pretended to be much more drunk by the time we left, than he did.
He insisted on taking me home in a cab. He was worried about me, he said and wanted to make sure I was all right I allowed him to get the impression that I would need help all the way to my apartment door.
When we got to my building, I fell against him repeatedly, and he had to walk me right inside, right to my door. He took my purse, found my keys and opened it up, helping me inside.
At once, I fell at his feet, trembling and moaning. "I'm sorry, Master, I'm sorry for touching you," I gasped. "Please, Master, please forgive me!"
I knew he would be shocked and unable to understand what was happening, but I wanted it that way. I wanted to shock him into the part I wished him to play, for I knew that if I merely suggested the idea, he would flee in horror.
I groveled at his feet, kissing his shoes and moaning frantically. He stood there, confused and shuddering, unable to understand anything that was happening. I was moaning and carrying on, so, that he dare not leave for fear of my mind and what I might do.
"Come, come, Cathy," he said softly, reaching over to take hold of my arm and lift me to my feet. "Don't be so upset, it's nothing, truly, nothing!"
It was then I pulled away from him and knelt before him on the floor. "Let me be your slave, Master," I whispered urgently. "Let me serve your as only a loving slave can! Command me, Master, let me obey!"
His eyes stared at me with shock, but even then, I could tell he was becoming a little intrigued by the idea. He was trembling, a shuddering that grew more and more violent as he stared at me.
"I know what you are thinking, Master," I sobbed, shaking my head to clear my eyes of the tears welling up in them. "I know you must think me, mad, but I am not, Master! I only wish to serve you!"
"What are you talking about, Cathy?" he hissed, his voice excited as he watched me kneeling devotedly at his feet. "What's all this about a Master and a slave?"
"I need to be disciplined, Master, I need someone to command me," I moaned, bowing my head in respect. "Please, Master, a slave needs someone to rule them, or they have no reason to live!"
"What are you telling me?" he gasped, the understanding beginning to come to him now. "Are you saying you want to become my slave?"
I nodded boldly. "Yes, yes," I whispered passionately. "I wish to be your perfect slave, Master, I wish to feel your love and punishment when I do wrong. I want only to live for you, only to do as you command!"
I fell on my face, crying wildly, now. "Ohh, God, God, Master, I have insulted you, embarrassed you," I wailed. I rubbed my forehead on the carpet in grief and miserable guilt.
"I have begged you to please me, Master, for that I must be punished," I groaned. "For that. I deserve the harshest discipline you might give to me!"
Before he had a chance to speak, I rose and motioned with my head for him to follow me. I was being much too bold for a slave, but I had to be so, I had to act badly. Later on, I was sure he would make me pay for my arrogant manner.
In my bedroom, I have a tiny, cell-like cot and almost nothing else in the way of furniture. The rest of the room is filled with instruments to be used in my punishment. I have every device possible to discipline me when I am bad or make a mistake, and I could hear his sharp intake of breath as he cast his eyes about the room.
"God, God, what is all of this?" he gasped. He shook his head, wandering around the room, inspecting everything. "What is all this for, Cathy?"
"To punish me, Master," I moaned, beginning to remove my clothing. "All of this is for your pleasure, Master, for your benefit in teaching me the error of my ways!"
Quickly I stripped naked and when he turned, I watched his reaction closely. He was shocked, but also growing more excited, and not merely in a sexual sense. I have a decent body, but it was not his possible erection that I was interested in.
I saw the look in his eyes and a warmth filled my heart. He was beginning to feel an interest in the idea. I could see the shining thought in his eyes as he rolled it over in his mind.
"You know how wicked and self-centered I have been, Master," I said softly, my breasts rising and falling rapidly with my labored breathing. "You know how much I need to be punished, don't you?"
The smile on his lips grew wider. "Yes, yes I do, bitch," he whispered, the tremor of excitement clear in his tone of voice. "Yes, I can see now that you have not been a very good servant, have you?"
I moaned in despair for my actions and quickly slipped into a leather vest made especially for torture. I wanted him to see at once, the many marvelous tools I had to teach me a lesson and this particular one had a truly delicious function.
God, I tremble when I remember it!
The vest was made of leather, with tight, wire stays and slipped over my head and beneath my shoulders. It fit snugly against my breasts, molding to the tops, perfectly.
At the front of each half-cup, was a metal band that rode first down then out from each boob. The band was fastened by a tiny spring to the top of each cup and a piece of metal jutted downward from each band.
At the end of each metal strip was a small screw hole, in which a bolt, filed to a needle tip, was inserted. This sharp, destructive point was facing my nipples, and at the back end of either side of the band were sharp tips that lay, gently now, against the flesh of my globes.
I walked quickly to the shackles I have hanging from a beam in my ceiling. I stared at Ronald, my potential Master and he quickly nodded. He stepped over to where I was standing and took me by the root of my hair in one hand.
"Worthless scum," he growled, slapping me back and forth with his free hand until my lips were split and bleeding. "I'll teach you to act so self-important around your Master!"
I moaned in secret pleasure and shuddered as he forced my arms above my head and swiftly locked my hands in the shackles. I felt him draw the chain tight and in moments I was suspended almost completely above ,the floor.
"You need punishment, bitch," he hissed, inspecting the vest and the bands of metal, carefully. "You need to pay for that mouth of yours, and pay dearly."
"Ohh, yes, yes, I know, Master, I know," I wailed, nodding violently, straining with my toes against the floor. "Please punish me, Master, please, I need it so badly! Punish me, Master, please!"
He laughed savagely and pulled the springs of the bands wide open. When he released them again, the sharp blades on either side of my two breasts quickly sank deep into the quivering globes.
I screamed in pain, shivering with the rolling agony that began to race through my imprisoned mounds. I was beginning to suffer, as the blood welled up from the wounds and each throbbing ache filled me with love for him. .
"I'm really going to teach you a lesson, slave," he said, his voice now as cruel and cold as I could ever hope for. "I'm going to show you how a stupid, willful little bitch gets treated!"
I shivered in anticipation. He began to pinch and tweak my nipples, rolling them back and forth until they were at the point of full erection and just a bit away from the shimmering points of the screw-bolts.
My boobs were throbbing with agony from the blades sunk into them, and I moaned as he began to screw the bolts forward against my nipples. The first puncture I barely felt, but the blood began to flow nonetheless.
"Ohh, God, I deserve this, Master, I deserve this," I sobbed, my whole body beginning to tremble now, with a violent, spasmodic tremor. "I deserve your punishment, Master, ohh, yes, yes, I do!"
Slowly the needle-tipped bolts began to sink into my nipples. The pain was worse even than the blades, but my nuggets remained firm, thrilling to the agony they were now experiencing as he turned each bolt.
He laughed in delight and twisted the ends of the bolts with obvious satisfaction. "You're worthless, you scum, do you hear me, worthless," he growled, the excitement so intense in his voice that it brought new, wonderful tears of joy to my eyes.
"You don't even deserve me doing this to you, do you, slave?" he barked quietly. "You're too useless to even punish, aren't you?"
My joy was overwhelming. Ronald was acting more like a Master than I could have ever hoped. I felt ashamed of my joy, for I should not have been thinking about how happy I was, only about his pleasure, now.
"Ohh, God, Master, I love you," I wailed. "I love you so much! Hurt me, Master, I know I don't deserve your discipline, but please, please give it to me!"
"Tell me how worthless you are, bitch," he hissed, taking his hands from the bolts and stepping back from me. "Tell me how useless and scum-like you are!"
I nodded, my breath now harsh and erratic, almost too painful in its labored and frantic fashion. "Ohh, Master, I know, I know how lucky I am," I moaned. "I know that you love me, and I feel so ashamed and unworthy!"
"I'm going to teach you a few things, slave," he said, twisting the bolts swiftly now, driving the points completely into my nipples. "I'm going to have to teach you how a slave can act, that I can see!"
The blood ran down over my alabaster mounds and over my belly to my thighs. I was swaying from left to right in a gentle, lazy manner, my body quaking with the marvelous agony I was experiencing.
For me, the moment was complete bliss, because Ronald had almost reached the point of deciding to enslave me, and I was almost in ecstasy, then. I blinked my eyes, hardly able to see as I tried to stare at him.
"Don't look at me, scum," he cursed, slapping me a half a dozen times, the force of the blows making me shiver, and in turn, driving and twisting the blades and bolts deeper into my flesh.
"Don't you dare look at me without permission, you worthless dung," he growled. I lowered my eyes, quickly, as a good slave should.
"You offend me, slave, you make me ill," he grumbled. He was pacing back and forth now, his voice cold and harsh. "You have been much too free around me, slave, much too free! I hadn't noticed it before, but I will remedy the situation at once!"
I was in heaven, now, totally in his control, being tortured for the mistakes I knew I had committed. The pain was a clear indication of his concern and affection for me, and I thrilled to each throbbing ache I felt certain now, that he was realizing his destiny, as I, long ago, had mine. He was coming to understand that it was his role to rule, and mine to serve. His wife did not matter, for I was totally under his command.
I ached to serve him better. I wanted to clean the filth of his body with my tongue, bare my flesh willingly to any beating he might wish to impose. It had been a long time since I had had a loving Master to take care of me, and I knew that I had done much in that time to deserve punishment.
"Ohh, please, Master, please," I moaned, then, shivering with a rolling wave of delicious agony. "Please give me another chance, Master, please let me serve you!"
"Look at me, slave," he commanded, and I quickly lifted my eyes. "Tell me how much you wish to obey me, tell me how much you want my love!"
His eyes were as fierce as I had ever seen them. He was sending terror and pain my way, and I quaked in joyous fear. He was frightening me with his gaze and I loved the feeling of terror I was experiencing.
"Yes, Master," I whispered, unable to raise my voice any higher. "Yes, yes, I want that, I want that so much!"
I was burning with passion for his care and affection. I knew that I had opened to door to something powerful hidden deep inside of him, and I felt more than lucky that I was the first slave to know of his force.
He was grinning savagely, now, his eyes drinking in the beauty of my torture as my breasts quivered with my pain. He laughed in delight, rubbing his hands together, obviously looking forward to commanding me.
"I might give you another chance, slave," he told me, his voice teasing and cruel. "I might allow you one last chance to prove you are worth my time!"
"Ohhh, Master, please, please give me the chance," I sobbed. My breasts were aching so badly now, that I could no longer see anything but a blinding glare of pain in front of my eyes. "I beg of you, Master, give me one more chance!"
He nodded, his head merely a blur to me now. He walked over the where I was, now dangling from the chains, no longer able to stand for my strength had vanished as if it were melted snow.
He slowly unscrewed the bolts from my nipples, then opened the springs to the blades and pulled them from my flesh. I gasped with relief, feeling horrible that I did not want to endure any more pain for him at the moment.
He unlocked the shackles and I slid to the floor at his feet. He drove a foot into my side and flipped me over on my back. I fought the urge to double up and clutch my aching stomach and allowed him complete freedom of access to all of me.
"Worthless bitch," he sneered. "I don't remember giving you permission to rest on the floor, now did I, scum?"
"No ... no you did not, Master," I moaned, trying hard to arise. "I will get up, now, Master, please forgive me for forgetting myself!"
"Remain where you are, bitch, I have a few things to tell you," he said cruelly. "And, I enjoy looking down on you. It's the correct spot for scum such as yourself!"
He nudged my torn breast with his boot, wiping the bit of blood he got on it off on my arm. I lay there still and quite, awaiting only his next command. I wondered if I should shut my eyes, but I had a feeling that would anger him.
He smiled and I felt the savage love he had for me, coming from him. "I have not even begun with you yet, slave," he laughed brutally. "I am going to make you suffer dearly in your service, I promise you!"
He outlined his plans for me. I was to do nothing unless he ordered me to. I was not to speak, nor eat nor wash even, unless he gave me permission. I was not even to relieve myself until he told me to.
I had a full bladder at that point and I knew it would thrill him to find that out, so I meekly asked permission to go to the bathroom. At once he cackled with delight and shook his head.
He told me to start walking around the room, briskly, and not to stop until he gave me permission. "I want to see you in agony from that piss you are carrying," he told me, Krimlv. "I haven't reached the point, yet, when I think you need to go!"
I was thrilled by this, of course. It would be the true test of what kind of a Master he was. I had put many others to this test, and all had failed. Perhaps it is the common agony of retainment that finally got to them, but they all failed when I began to sob and scream.
I made my way around the room faster and faster. The pain grew horrible and intense causing the sweat to pour down my face, and my lips to turn up in a grimace of agony. Still, he did not give me permission.
I could barely move after awhile, each step hurting ten times worse than the last. I sobbed loudly and clutched my belly, but he just laughed and told me to walk faster and faster, still.
Naturally I obeyed his command, giving myself more and more pain. Each jolting step was accompanied by his cruel laughter, and I felt the overpowering delight of suffering for him filling me completely.
It was almost an hour before he finally allowed me to got to the bathroom. I was forced to crawl there on my hands and knees, and several times he halted me and made me wait before letting me continue.
It was close to another half hour before I reached the bowl and even then, he forced me to sit there and hold my need until he was agreeable to allowing me to finally relieve myself.
In all, the little test he put me to took two hours and I was in a solid state of throbbing pain throughout it all. I felt such aching pleasure at the sight of his enjoyment of my suffering, that I wanted to weep at his feet in thanks.
He left my apartment soon after that, with instructions to come to work wearing a see-through dress of the sheerest material possible. He laughed, savagely as he left my apartment
"If you don't get arrested before you get to work, I want everyone in the city to be able to see what you have," he told me ruthlessly. "I want you as good as naked, slave! I wanted you totally embarrassed!"
He slapped me once more before he left, instructing me to be on time, and I went to bed, shivering with excitement and anticipation of the humiliations I would have to endure the next day.
I had an outfit that fit what he ordered me to wear perfectly. It hid nothing of my body, was so transparent I was certain I would never make it to the office without being stopped by a policeman.
I got there however, totally humiliated by all the whistles and cat-calls I received along the way. When I stepped into the office, all the eyes of the men in the room bugged out of their heads and a few of the women turned away in disgust.
One of the older women called me a pig and the words burned my ears with their delightful disgust. I sat at my desk, waiting for Ronald to come on, quivering with fear and pleasure.
I was afraid that the dress would not be revealing enough, but I should have known that beings such a willing and happy slave, I would do my job well. The moment he came in the door, I could see the approval on his face, though he gave me a stern glance when he passed my desk.
"What are you, some kind of disgusting pig?" he growled viciously. "You make me sick, Cathy, just sick! I ought to fire you, you know that?"
I began to weep uncontrollably and he reached down and yanked my head back by my hair. "Come on, I want you to admit it, admit it to everyone! Tell us what scum you are, bitch, tell us, now!"
"Yes, yes, I'm scum, I'm a pig," I cried, so filled with joy at his viciousness and abuse that I could barely speak. "I am disgusting, I'm an animal! I am unfit to be around, yes, yes!"
I could see the looks of revulsion on the other people's faces for my act of self-humiliation. I could tell they despised me, thought I was sick and wretched, and that made me feel all the more delightful.
My Master was enjoying my humiliation completely, and the serene look on his face told me I had done my job correctly. His obvious pleasure at my revolting performance was all the reward I needed.
"I think you deserve a beating right in front of everyone for doing this," he growled at me, unlooping his belt from his trousers. "Don't you agree, you worthless piece of trash?"
I nodded sharply, standing up from my desk at once. "Ohh, yes, Master," I whispered, not wanting the others to hear me call him that. "I do, I do!"
"Tell them how much you deserve it, scum," he growled at me, pulling me around to the front of the desk. "Tell them how much you deserve a good thrashing!"
I looked around at the shocked, horrified and disgusted faces and nodded wildly. "I need to be beaten, I need him to beat me for this," I almost shouted. "I need to be punished for this, I do!"
With that he threw me across the desk, flipped up the hem of my dress and brought his doubled-up belt down hard on my buttocks. I wailed in pain, shivering with the impact and the embarrassment at having this done in front of everyone.
I knew they thought I was nothing, now, I could tell they thought I was plain dirt. I could hear their shocked sounds of dismay and horror, could feel their accusing eyes boring into me.
With each harsh, cruel blow that my Master struck, a new wave of pleasure rippled through me. At last the pain was becoming delightful, again. Not merely just agony, but rich with the love that it signified.
Only a truly compassionate Master has the ability to make his punishment pleasing. Only when you are sure of his infinite love and concern for you, can you surrender fully to the beauty of your agony.
The exquisite ecstasy of my pain went on and on and I trembled and quaked with it, sobbing and sighing as it roared through me, now. I shivered as he lashed me with the belt, hearing the slap of the leather against my buttocks and the gasps of distaste from the other workers.
I knew that they would never again want to have anything to do with me, and I was well aware that that was my Master's purpose in all of this. Happily I hoped it worked just that way, for I knew it would please him, and that was all I wanted.
The day continued in this vein. He was constantly humiliating me in front of all the others, and by the end of the afternoon, they would hardly look at me, much less speak to me at all.
I was so thrilled and happy that things had worked out so well, that it was all I could do to restrain myself from falling at my Master's feet and kissing them in total ecstasy and joy.
He ordered me to remain behind at the end of the day, and when all the others had left, he told me what he had in mind for me that evening. He wished to show his wife his new slave, and instructed me to be prepared to entertain later on.
Eagerly I rushed home and bathed, washing myself in a warm tub, after which I oiled and scented my body as he told me to do. I could hardly bear the time as it passed so slowly for me in my waiting.
At eight on the dot, my Master arrived, his wife grumbling and complaining about him dragging her along. He ignored her protests and refused to explain anything, a secretive grin on his lips as they entered my apartment.
The moment I shut the door, dressed in only my flowing nightgown, he turned on me, a savage glare in his eyes. "Have you gotten yourself ready for me, slave?" he growled, his voice changing instantly from his normally mild tone to a cold, demanding sound that put a surprised and quizzical look in his wife's eyes.
I bowed deeply, keeping, my eyes on the floor and whispered my response. "Yes, Master, I am ready," I told him, my voice trembling with the correct amount of fear and respect for him.
"Good, slave, show us to the room, at once!" he barked.
Quickly I turned on my heel and led my Master and his wife into the bedroom. I had already selected the instruments we would be using and I could hardly wait to be bound into them and provide my Master with the pleasure he desired in abusing me.
He seated his wife in a chair and then glared at me. "Let us begin, slave," he hissed. "I wish my wife to see how you obey me. It might be a good lesson for her!"
Quickly I showed him what I had selected and my heart leaped with joy at the approval I saw in his eyes. He could do no better than what I had in mind, if he wanted to impress upon his wife, the extent of his new found power.
I stripped off my gown in an instant and stood before them, naked, my flesh gleaming in the sparse light of the room, the slippery oil giving me a glowing caste. I held out my arms and he quickly fastened the shackles of the torture device to them. The short chain of each shackle was connected to a curved iron bar that slipped beneath my thighs and loins and was fastened to a narrow leather strap behind me. This was connected to a wide, rubber tubing that he slipped over my shoulders and brought my arms tight to my body.
He shoved the tubing down until it forced my breasts beneath it, almost cutting off my breathing, it was so tight. Over my head, he put a large, plastic cowl, a few dozen metal spikes protudring from within the helmet.
He pushed it down hard on my head and at once I could feel the pain of them embedding in my flesh. I gasped and quivered at the sudden, sharp needles drove into my head, but of course, I did not try and move away.
In the middle of the curved bar beneath my crotch, was a short, narrow tube, through which a rod was drawn, the tip of which was formed into a four pointed star. This device could be twirled by turning the metal rod, and I stood there, prepared for him to begin his abuse.
"Now you are ready, slave," he chuckled viciously. He turned and smiled at his wife in a way she had never seen him do before. "Now, slave, tell my wife how much you love me:
Tell her about how you thrill to being punished by me!"
I nodded briskly, licking my lips to moisten them. "I am his slave," I whispered quietly. "All that I live for is his pleasure. I can not wait to feel his discipline, for it tells me how much he loves me!"
His wife, a foolish woman to say the least, still could not understand what was happening. "What kind of stunt is this, Ronald?" he demanded impatiently. "What kind of foolishness are you treating me to?"
"Silence, scum!" my Master shouted and his wife blinked in shock. It was obviously the first time he had ever raised his voice to her and she did not know how to deal with it. "Silence and you will see, see how I have changed!"
"Do you want my punishment?" he asked me, then, turning his gaze upon me. "Do you wish to suffer for my pleasure, slave?"
I nodded instantly, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. "Ohh, God, yes, Master, yes," I moaned. "Please, discipline me, now, Master, I need it so badly, now!"
With that he nodded and moved behind me. He placed his right hand on my plastic cowl, pushing down hard, driving the spikes deeper into my skull. Then he took his left hand and laughing in delight, began to twirl the rod.
"Gaze upon this!" he commanded her. "I have made this woman my slave, you shall become one, also!"
I sobbed and quivered, feeling the spikes and the blades cutting and digging into my flesh relentlessly. I quivered with the delightful knowledge that I had done more than merely served my Master, much more.
My torture went on a little while longer, but the pain was so wonderful in its expression of my Master's love for me, that I did not want it to ever end. I knew then that I had found the man I was seeking, that (I had finally given myself to the Master I needed so badly.
"She loves me, don't you slave?" he cackled wildly, slicing the blade deep into my hairy mound. "Tell this worthless scum how much you love me!"
"Ohh, Master, yes, I love you so much, yes," I wailed, my voice broken and weak with my happiness. "I love you more than my own life, Master, for you are my life!"
He nodded, pressing his lips to my damp, trembling shoulders as a reward. "She is perfect, bitch," he growled at his wife. "Perfect in every way, and if you don't start performing as well as she, I will throw you out and make her my wife as well as my slave!"
The woman across the room finally slipped to the floor in a faint, and my Master growled in disgust. He ceased my torture and helped me out of the device. Together we revived his wife and he stood watching as I tended to my wounds.
"Now, will you submit willingly to my commands?" he asked his wife evenly. "Will you cease defying me from now on, bitch?"
Terrified, the woman nodded quickly. She could not speak, but I could tell by the look in her eyes, that she was never again to even talk to him without his permission.
Now, months later, my Master is even more a success than ever before. His wife is perfect in every way, and never does a single thing to anger him. My Master's life is happier than it ever has been, and I feel more alive than even when I was living with my father.
Many times, my Master takes me places and uses me to better his business contacts. I have certain skills concerning men that I am able to use to help him, and he rewards me generously every time.
My life is perfect now, I want for nothing. I live in my Master's shadow and I know truly, how much he loves me. He will never reject me, I am sure of it, and that is all I shall ever want in this world. A happy slave lives fully, you see, with the knowledge that her Master treasures her, and my Master truly values me completely. I have the scars to prove it.
THE STORY OF CAROLINE
Only I know of love. Only I can speak of what the word truly means. Many may have felt affection or passion, many may have believed they basked in the glow of true emotion, but they know nothing, for many are not slaves.
The love of a slave for her Mistress, and from her Mistress to her, is more powerful and complete than any other; and only I can speak of it with understanding.
My Mistress Judith cares for me more than anyone I could ever hope to encounter. Her affection and compassion is boundless. The manner in which she treats me, more complete in its love than you could imagine.
I spent my whole life searching for this, without even realizing it, for most slaves have no idea of what they truly are looking for. That is why they are so in need of good, strong Mistresses. Slaves are too stupid to understand their own wants and desires, only a Mistress can educate them to that.
My life was a series of going from one man to another, endlessly looking for some kind of love and concern that I could not even put a name to. Until I met my Mistress, Judith, I was in a fog, a cloud of despair.
She alone brought the sun into my life, the light of understanding what my true place and function was. To this day, I almost weep with sorrow over my wasted life. I was nothing until I gave myself to her.
It was a lucky day for me when I decided to take the job as Art Director in the summer camp Judith ran. She had a private school during the year, and had this place to earn extra income over the summer.
I had no idea when I first met her at my interview, of what was to come, but even then, I felt a strange, compelling power coming her, that both intrigued and excited me. I wanted to know more of her, that much I understood.
I was very lonely at that time. I was twenty-nine, just out of a bad love affair, and aching to fill the hole in my heart that gnawed at me. Of course, I had not clue to my unhappiness. I did not realized how much I desired to serve.
Judith, my loving Mistress, was kind and understanding right from the start. She seemed to be able to draw the secret facts of my life out of me as easily as if we were talking about the weather. By the time our interview was concluded, she knew everything about me, and assured me of the job.
I found myself eager to work for her, eager to do the best I possibly could. Even then, before I gave myself completely to her will, I wanted to please her, wanted to know that she approved of everything that I did.
The summer began with a party for the parents of the children we would be taking care of that year. I did not care very much for the kids, but I was determined to be excellent in everything I did.
The party, of course, was a wild, almost drunken affair. These rich and powerful people had nothing to do with their lives but enjoy themselves, and I must say, I did not find them appealing at all.
I merely wanted to put on a good face and give them the right and proper impression of me. I cared only for impressing upon them how efficient I would be, for I knew that would make Judith happy.
By the time the evening was over, I was a little tipsy, though hardly drunk, and I could tell Judith was completely sober, despite the number of social drinks she had consumed during the party.
She offered to walk me back to my small cabin at the edge of the lake, and I did not disguise my pleasure at having her join me. We spoke little as we walked along, and when we reached her cabin, a bit set off from the others, she surprised me by inviting me in for a nightcap.
I agreed, of course, thrilled that she was showing such an interest in me with all the work and other people she had to deal with. I felt very special, even then, and would not have turned her down for anything.
"I have plans for you, Caroline," she told me when we were seated on her lovely, luxurious couch. "I think you have qualities that I can put to use. In fact, I have been searching for someone like you for a long time, now."
"Ohh, Judith, Judith," I found myself murmuring. "I hope I can please you, I want so much to do everything correctly for you. I need so much help, my life seems to be slipping away from my grasp!"
She chuckled and patted my shoulder, lovingly. "Don't be afraid, little Caroline," she told me, warmly. "If you listen to me, and do exactly as I tell you, everything will be fine, I assure you!"
"I will, Judith, I promise you I will," I moaned hopefully. "Just tell me what you want me to do, that's all, just tell me!"
"First of all, you must call me, Mistress," she said sternly. "If you are going to live under my guidance and protection, you must show the proper respect!"
I trembled at that, for I knew, instinctively, that something was happening between us that could enlarge and benifit my life. I slipped from the couch almost without realizing it, and knelt beside her legs.
"Yes, Mistress, I shall show you the proper respect," I said, sincerely. "I shall always give you the lead in anything from now on!"
She patted my head in approval, then she sighed. "There is so much to teach you," she whispered, the excitement growing in her voice. "So much you have to learn. It is not easy to become a worthy slave, it is actually much harder than you would think!
I heard the word she used in terms of me, and I shuddered, for it was the first time I realized, even dimly, what I was about to become. She had used it on purpose, was not hiding her intentions and the idea and promise it offered made me quiver with a strange mixture of fear and anticipation.
"Come to my room tomorrow after midnight," she hissed at me in a husky voice. "I will begin to train you then, in the privacy of the night where all good slaves learn how to serve their Mistresses!"
With that she dismissed me, and I hurried down to my cabin, feeling a chill coming over me that had little to do with the cool night air. I lay on my bed, hardly sleeping that night, rolling the idea of becoming her slave over in my mind.
At once I realized that it did not apall me one bit. I felt so weary of trying to figure out my life, that I began to realize and understand how much I truly yearned for someone to take that burden from me.
I did not know the correct decisions to make for myself, so I wanted someone else to make them for me. I wanted someone I knew had more understanding and intelligence than I did, someone strong enough to control my actions and keep me from harm.
I had found no man able to do that, no man strong enough to help me live. Perhaps, by giving myself completely to another person's powerful will and knowledge, I could at last find happiness.
When I awoke the next morning from my fitful sleep, I was determined to do anything she required of me. I had made my decision and set my mind to the task of bending my will to her command. I only prayed I could do so without too much trouble.
How sad we are taught to fiercely cling to our independence. There are so many of us that would truly know joy and happiness, if they only surrendered. I was one of those, clinging desperately to the idea of self-will, when all the time I only wanted to escape it.
The day, for me, took much too long to pass. Each hour seemed like ten, and when I noticed Judith at dinner, she acted as if she hardly saw me. I was terrified that she had completely forgotten about our meeting, and could hardly eat my meal until she passed by and whispered in my ear.
"Don't forget, Caroline," she said quickly. "Tonight at midnight! Don't be late, a good slave is always prompt!"
I nodded quickly, gazing around to be sure that no one had noticed us, then attacked my meal with a sudden hunger that made me feel as if I were starving. I was of course, but I was starving for a different kind of nourishment, indeed.
I forced myself to lay on my bed, dressed in a short nightgown. I set my alarm and tried to sleep, but I was awake still, at ten to twelve and I sighed with relief as I snapped off the alarm and drew on a robe.
Quickly I made the walk to Judith's cabin and knocked on the door, my heart beating wildly, my voice almost unintelligible as I answered her question as to who was there.
She opened the door a crack and hissed at me to enter quickly. Once inside, I waited in the darkness until she turned on the light, then I could not contain my gasp of surprise as I saw what she was wearing.
"Oh, my God," I gasped.
She was dressed in a pair of tight, gleaming leather pants that hugged her hips and thighs snugly. She wore a strange, tight vest of sorts that came over her head in a tight cap and had holes through which her breasts were exposed.
She glared at me and motioned to the floor with one of her leather-gloved hands. "On your knees, slave," she hissed, almost angrily. "Do you not know your place as of yet? On your knees!"
Quickly I slipped to the floor, quivering with fear that she might be displeased with me already. She barked at me not to look at her, but to gaze at the floor and I dropped my eyes in obedience.
"A slave must learn first that she has no right to see her Mistress's face unless told she may do so," she informed me. "A mistress is the most important thing in a slave's life, and she should not be burdened with the worthless stare of one of so little value!"
That made perfect sense to me. I knew that she would have so much work in taking care and protecting me, that I did not want to have to make her job and harder by forcing her to have to think about returning my glance.
"You have done much in the past that was foolish and wasteful," she went on to tell me. "So, you need to pay for those mistakes before we can begin any training at all. I will have to punish you a little, to make my point and teach you a lesson!"
I did not know what she had in mind, but I felt so much affection for her, so much happiness that she was bothering to take the time to even discipline me, that I eagerly agreed with her feelings.
"I realize that, Mistress," I whispered softly, tears of shame and regret welling up in my eyes. "I can already see how wasteful and stupid my life has been. Please, Mistress, teach me the correct way to serve you, now!"
She suddenly reached down and took hold of my short, black hair, pulling on my head until I was staring up at her, my lips bared in pain. "First of all, worthless creature, you don't speak to me unless I tell you to," she growled. "When I want to hear your miserable voice, I'll command you, until then, keep silent!"
I moaned, nodding as much as I was able, then she let my hair go and yanked me to my feet. She instructed me to get rid of my nightgown and I slipped it from my shoulders in an instant and stood in front of her, quivering with excitement.
She led me to the back of her cabin, to a small room with a barred door. She pulled the bar away and pushed me inside, clicking on the light behind us. In the center of the room, was a tall, narrow saddle of sorts and she led me over to it.
She gave my pubic mound a brief glance, nodding her head in satisfaction that I had shaved it clean of hair as she had instructed me to do. She forced me to straddle the saddle, and I gingerly avoided the spikes that jutted out from it, toward my trembling buttocks.
Quickly she locked my ankles into the shackles on either side of the base of the saddle then bound my arms behind my back with a length of leather cord. She gazed at my position and smiled in satisfaction.
"Now your punishment shall begin," she told me, her voice low and cold. "I am going to make you pay dearly for how you have lived until now! By the time you leave this room, you shall not wish to be that way ever again!"
She removed a hypodermic needle from a drawer beside the saddle and quickly filled it from a bottle. She rubbed my vaginal lips with alcohol then smiled at me thinly.
"This is just so you don't jump about while I am working on you, slave," she told me, grimly. "The effects will wear off very quickly, I assure you."
With that she injected both of my lips with the drug and I gasped as the needle penetrated them, feeling almost at once the numbing power of the injection. After a few moments, she took a small ring from the drawer.
"This is the symbol of your slavery, worthless bitch," she told me in a viciously amused voice. "With this ring, I make you mine, totally mine!"
She slipped the ring through a small knotted loop of a cord that rose out of a hole in the saddle in front of me and opened its spring-loaded jaws. She let them close against my vaginal lips and the ring instantly tore through my deadened flesh and closed together between them.
I gasped in shock, already the drug beginning to wear off. I was frightened, of course, and breathing rapidly with my worry and fear, but a part of me was quivering with the delight of knowing she was truly going to make me her slave.
In moments, pain came to my petals as the drug faded away and a searing pain began to throb powerfully through my abused body. Hot tears formed in my eyes, and I felt my flesh growing damp with the sweat of my increasing agony.
"Does it hurt, slave?" she whispered softly in my ear. "Do you feel the pain, now? The pain of your punishment and my making you my own?"
"Yes ... yes, it hurts, Mistress, it hurts," I gasped, the pain racing through me wildly now, as the cord that was drawn tight, began to pull my lips toward the hole it came out of.
"Good, good," she laughed softly. "Now you are feeling how you should feel, now you are experiencing the pain of your mistakes. You must be punished, slave, or else you will not learn."
I realized that of course, she was right. There was no way for me to truly understand the things I had done incorrectly, unless I paid for my mistakes. I had to feel the hurt, the wonderful pain of her discipline, if I wanted to know, fully, what not to do again.
"Never think of your own wants and needs," she told me, clasping her hands on my bound arms and pulling me backward against the spikes that protruded from the curve of the saddle.
The taut cord fastened by the ring through my vaginal lips pulled even tighter and I screamed in agony as it stubbornly drew my impaled petals toward it. I felt the first, huge spike probing the cleft between my buttocks and I sobbed with the pain of its invasion.
"Repeat what I have just told you," Mistress Judith barked quietly in my ear. "Let me hear you say it yourself, worthless whore!"
"I ... I must never think of myself," I stammered wildly. "I must never be concerned with my own desires, only yours, Mistress, only yours!"
She grunted in satisfaction and pulled me back again, driving the spike deeper into my anal passage, the needle point tearing into my defenseless flesh, the growing width of the spike forcing my canal wider and wider apart.
This constant motion, pushing and pulling on me, rhythmically rocking me back and forth, made the agony of my torture move between my anus and cunt. I sobbed loudly, now, unable to hold my cries of pain inside.
"You must learn to love the punishment I inflict on you," she continued, her hands now moving and tugging on me in a controlled fashion. "You must learn that the amount of discipline I give you, is the clear indication of my love for you!"
I could barely understand what she was saying to me, so powerful and overwhelming was the pain I felt, but I could dimly understand the logic behind her explanation and I did my best to show her with a nod that I agreed.
"Yes, Mistress, yes, I will," I gasped, my tongue thick and heavy in my mouth. "I will see that my pain is good, that it means you care for me. I will try and appreciate what you are doing for me!"
"Cleanse your mind of all thoughts of yourself," she cooed lovingly, now. "Empty your soul of any self-indulgent ideas. You are nothing, do you understand? Nothing except what I tell you, you are!"
The realization that she was right washed over me like a refreshing wave. I moaned thickly, quivering with the pain and the relief of knowing that she was right. I had no meaning, I understood, beyond that which she gave me, and I desperately wanted to have her form my reason of existence for me, then.
She reached around in front of me and began to fondle my small, firm breasts, rolling my nipples back and forth with her palm. The soothing pleasure off-set my pain and I shivered uncontrollably with both sensations now.
"You see, my little slave, see how I control everything, now," she chuckled happily. "I give you your pleasure and I give you your pain. You have no will any longer, no ability whatsoever to create anything in your life!"
She was so right, that I wanted to scream in happiness for the understanding she was giving to me. I felt all the burden of thinking, leaving my mind, all the need to satisfy my desires drifting away. I would never have to make any decisions again, she would do it all.
"Have you been punished enough, slave?" she asked me, her voice coy and teasing in tone. "Have you been disciplined enough, do you think?"
I shook my head violently. "No, Mistress, no!" I groaned, sobbing with the growing need I felt for her blessed punishment and care. "No, I need to suffer more, Mistress, much more! I am still too weak, still too unworthy!"
She kissed my cheek in approval and squeezed my breast, fondly. "You are learning, little slave," she told me in a pleased tone of voice. "You are learning, well!"
From that moment on, I threw myself into the task of becoming the best slave I possibly could. Outwardly, I had to continue to pretend, before all the others, that I was nothing more than an employee. But, alone with my Mistress, and all the time, inside of me, I was becoming more and more overpowered and controlled by her.
Every moment of the day, when I was not performing my duties as the Art Director, I devoted my time and thinking to serving her. I knew I was getting the reputation of someone trying to butter her up, but I did not care what any of them thought.
This put a distance between myself and the other members of the staff, that grew greater and greater until none of them would speak to me, but I did not give a damn. I needed no one, then, for I had my Mistress and she was more than enough.
Every evening, I would make my way to her cabin and listen attentively to her instructions. She was very patient with me, taking her time to make things clear enough for my stupid mind to understand.
I had to erase my whole concept of myself, I understood. I had to realized that a slave is actually an empty vessel into which a Mistress pours the meaning of her existence. If the Mistress does not give the slave meaning, it has no life.
I was so weak and foolish in the past, that I often wondered if I would ever be able to become as good a slave as I wanted to. I did not lack for effort, but all the years I had wasted pained me deeply.
"You are a fool, a weak, useless fool," my Mistress would tell me, shaking her head in disgust. "You are lucky I even bother with you, your are so worthless!"
I knew how right she was, for I had finally come to realize how little value I had. I was not able to even think correctly, most of the time, must less perform. It mattered little that I did some things right, for I did most of them wrong.
I did my job as Art Director better than anyone else ever had. Even the other employees had to admit that, but that was no comfort to me. I might be able to do a simple task like teach, but to learn to be a slave, was another story.
Slaves have to be constantly on guard against thinking about themselves, I learned. People are so used to doing that, that it takes a great deal of effort not to. I would find myself dreaming of the satisfaction of serving her, find myself thrilling to the pleasures I would have at her happiness, and suddenly I would realize that I cared more for my own delight than hers.
How worthless I truly was! How vain and contemptible that I should even care a little for my own pleasure. I had found myself experiencing orgasms during her painful punishments and that shamed me terribly.
I used to look forward to the discipline, for it meant sensual pleasure to me in many ways, and I would moan with despair when I realized that I did not enjoy them because I deserved them, but for what they gave me.
I begged the Mistress to help me. "Ohh, God, God," I told her in deep shame and guilt. "I have climaxes when you punish me, Mistress, and I look forward to them!"
She glared at me angrily. "How dare you enjoy anything unless I instruct you to, slave?" she growled. "What right have to any pleasure I do not grant you?"
"None, Mistress, none at all," I admitted, honestly. "I should not feel anything but the justified agony, but still, I do! And I think about it, too. Ohh, help me, Mistress, help me to change!"
She gazed at me thoughtfully that evening, a thin, knowing smile coming over her lips as she ran the problem around in her mind. She laughed at last and nodded, and I felt a thrilling excitement as I realized she had found the solution.
"I will help you, slave," she told me grimly. "I am going to make sure that from now on, the discipline is all you think about, if I allow you to think, at all!"
She instructed me to enter the barred room where she carried on her discipline and punishment and I did as she commanded. I walked slowly, for I did not know how she could accomplish anything with the weak and flawed material that she had to work with.
But she was confident, as always, and I had to put my complete trust in her, for I had no faith in myself. I was a valueless creature, by now, and as far as I was concerned, she had every right to get rid of me.
I knew how much she cared for me, though, her constant attention and stern control told me that, and I hoped, desperately, that she would be able to cure the sickness of self-concern that I had in me.
The room was chilly as we entered and she told me to go over to the small mattress that lay on the floor on the far side of the room. As I walked over there, I began to strip off my clothing as she ordered, until I was completely naked.
She handed me a tight pair of leather boots connected by a leather codpiece that went over my loins and up under and between my buttocks by another strap of leather.
I quickly slipped into them, then pulled the cowl she handed me over my head. I felt her roughly pulling my arms behind my back, then tying them with rope, and nodded, excitedly as she pushed me to the mattress.
I watched as she pulled on a similiar outfit and then smiled down at me, in a gaze of power and control. There was a sly, evil look in her eyes and I wondered what she had in mind.
"A good slave needs no orgasm," she told me, as she knelt down beside me. "A good slave does not need to ever climax, if her Mistress does not desire her to, now does she, little bitch?"
I shuddered, finally beginning to realize what she had planned. I nodded in agreement. "That is right, Mistress, that is correct," I moaned softly. "If you do not wish me to have an orgasm, I should not!"
"And you should be happy that I do not wish you to come, shouldn't you?" she went on, her lips now brushing over my breasts, making my flesh tingle with excitement.
"Yes, yes, Mistress," I .moaned, quivering violently. "All that matters is what pleases you! All that matters is your happiness!"
"Umm, you are slowly beginning to understand, slave," she murmured, her mouth now traveling over my naked belly. "And I am going to help you to understand!"
I groaned as her lips reached my exposed vaginal lips. She licked them gently, sending delicious tremors racing through me. She was expert at this and it was not long before I found myself poised on the brink of a thundering orgasm.
"Do not come, slave, do not climax," she whispered intently, driving her tongue against me relentlessly. "I do not want to feel one small tremor, not one!"
It was agonizing to hold back, but I did. I lay there, gasping and sobbing the pounding of my desire raging inside of me, but I would not allow myself the bliss of climax, for the torment of my supression was pleasing my Mistress so.
I did nothing but quiver and rock as she lathered and sucked on my cunt. Half a dozen times she brought me to the edge, then forced me to slip back again. It went on and on, until she made me bring her to climax, while continuing to command me to withhold my own.
By the time she was completely satisfied, my whole body was throbbing with greed and wanting, but she did not attend to me, nor allow me to do it myself. She rose to her feet, chuckling viciously.
"I know what your body wants, but it shall not have it, slave," she growled at me ruthlessly. "You shall suffer this torment for as long as I wish you to! Perhaps I will never allow you to orgasm again!"
I moaned at the idea but nodded weakly. "I will do as you command, Mistress," I promised her. "I will suffer this desire for as long as you command me to!"
"It is good to suffer for me this way, isn't it, slave?" she whispered happily. "Isn't it marvelous that I give you such torment, little bitch?"
My eyes grew moist with tears, for she was so right. It was wonderful that she put me through such torture. It was so grand for me to be able to give her some sort of entertainment and satisfaction.
She could now take out all her hatred of the children we worked with and their parents on me. She could abuse and make me hurt, torment me in any way she pleased, and I would submit to it all, willingly.
I was growing more perfect in my slavery, and that made me happier than I had ever been in my life. I found myself eager to approach the discipline, now, and without fear of my own self-centered pleasures marring it any longer.
I would never again climax unless she told me to, and now, when she abused or punished me, all I felt and thought about was how richly I deserved such treatment, the flaws of the past had been corrected;
My service of her became better every day. I no longer attempted to hide my devotion to her, and she saw no need for me to do so, either. I waited on her hand and foot and cared nothing for the whispered remarks of others.
At the dinner table, she would often tease me, brutally. Making harsh, cruel jokes at my expense, and I would laugh merrily along with the rest, eager to have myself so humiliated in front of them.
Each abuse she heaped on me, proved her love for me. I was the only person she truly cared about, and I knew it. She could do no wrong, in my eyes, as, of course, any Mistress can do no wrong.
Eagerly I forfeited all my salary to her. I openly admitted to working for nothing, now, to receiving nothing other than food and shelter. When she told the rest that she had decided to even move me out of my cabin, to a small celler in back of the barn, I happily saw their looks of shock and disgust.
Now, she cut me off from the dining table, allowing me only to feed on scraps, after, of course, I had fed everyone else and cleaned all the dishes. I began to work from sun up until sun down and often much later, but I was blissfully happy.
I never had any rest, after that. I grew gaunt and weak, but of course, that did not mean a thing to my Mistress. How pale or sick I was, did not matter, I still had my jobs to do.
"You love me, deeply, don't you, slave?" she asked me once, in front of an indignant member of the staff. "Tell them how much you love me?"
I slipped to the floor beside the table and kissed her bare foot. "Ohh, Mistress, I would starve to death if you ordered me to, I love you so much!"
"And, perhaps you will, just as an amusement to me," she said, idly. "Perhaps that wouldn't be a bad idea at all. I am rather bored of your presence, slave, go to you celler and do not come out until I tell you to!"
There was an angry cry of disgust by the others, but I ignored them, and made my way to the cellar at once. I lay down on my cot, determined not to move until I heard my Mistresses voice.
The days passed slowly for me, but I did not care. I grew weaker and weaker and my belly throbbed with hunger, but I did not mind. Each pang of starving need reminded me of how much love she had for me, and my suffering made me all the happier and content for it.
Often, someone would come to my locked door and pound frantically, trying to get me to open it and eat, but I would not even answer them. I would let them expend all their energy then I would reply.
"My Mistress has ordered me here," I would whisper weakly. "And I shall not arise until she has told me to. Now go away and leave me to my punishment!"
How long I was in that cellar, I do not know, but suddenly, one afternoon, the door was broken down and men in white coats hurried in and dragged me out. They strapped me to a stretcher and put me in an ambulance.
I don't remember the trip.
A needle was jammed into my arm and I passed out, still screaming at them, demanding that they free me and allow me to go about my business of serving my Mistress.
When I awoke, I was in a hospital, a tube running into my arm. I had been unconscious for almost a week, I was told by the nurse, and I had almost died from starvation.
I began to cry, and the stupid woman thought it was out of relief, but she was so wrong. I felt horrible, for I had failed my Mistress. She had commanded me to die, or at least to remain in my cellar until she gave me permission to come out, and I had failed her.
A day or so passed and one of the employees came to visit me. She told me, with obvious glee, that my Mistress had been investigated and had lost her clients. The camp was shut down and even her school was closing.
"The vicious bitch is leaving the state," she cackled happily. "It's too bad they can't send her to jail for what she's done to you, but you would have to testify to even get a case against her!"
I sobbed into my pillow, waving the woman from the room. I wanted nothing to do with any of the fools that had worked with me. They understood nothing, not even the slightest bit of my sorrow.
I gained strength every day, and after another week, I was well enough to leave the hospital. I was taken home by one of the doctors who made me promise to call him when I felt better.
"Perhaps I can help you get over this horrible frame of mind you are in," he had told me kindly. "I would like to be of help, if I can. You are too young and beautiful to waste your life this way."
I told him I would call him but that was only to get rid of him. The moment he was gone, I rushed to my telephone and dialed my Mistress's number. It rang ten times, each one a horrible jarring sound in my ears as I feared she was not home, or worse, had already left. Then I heard her wonderful, soothing voice on the other end, and I broke down into sobbing tears. "It is I, Mistress, your slave, Caroline," I wailed. "Please, Mistress, I need you, please let me serve you again!"
I do not need to say much more. We both left the state after that. I was happily back in my Mistress's service, doing her bidding as perfectly as I could. We moved out West, where no one knew us, and we are very happy, now.
These days, I do not do the slavish, low tasks as I had before. Now, I am helping my Mistress recruit others to her service, training them as she has taught me to. Soon we shall have over fifty slaves and she has plans for hundreds more.
One day, we shall have a school devoted to the training of slaves, and the whole country will be filled with my Mistress's servants. I can not wait for that day to come, for I know how happy it will make her.
I still make a mistake now and then, and she still disciplines me for it in the wonderful, agonizing way that only she can. My mind is filled with thoughts of her now. Each breath I take is for her. Soon, I will not even be able to think of myself at all, I will have no memory of anything, but the last moment I served her.
I shall be happy then, for as I can remember, from early on, my life had not truly begun until the day I began my service to my Mistress. Ahh, how sad I sometimes feel for those that cannot know the joy of slavery.
Certainly I fought this pleasure, this ultimate in bliss. Everyone who is afraid and does not understand fights that very thing that can help them; I was as foolish as any weak human. I did not see my own happiness when it was staring me in the face!
Thankfully, those days are over. I no longer have to dream about finding who and what I am meant to be. Now, all I need do is serve. I need think no longer.
I know that when I speak of how free I am, most would find this insane and without any foundation in logic. But that is not so. There is a sweet, quiet freedom in slavery that is not so hard to understand, once it is seen clearly.
I have never felt so perfectly in tune with everything as I do now. I have never felt so absolutely correct in every way. My body responds almost instantly to any command, and soon, I hope not even to have to hear the words before I am in motion.
A good slave should be able to anticipate her Mistress's needs before they are spoken. She should be able to know just what her Mistress wants or requires, and then be able to spring to task without a second thought.
This, of course, takes much time to learn, much practice, and of course, much punishment and discipline for making mistakes. But, naturally, I expect this. In fact, I yearn for it. Each time I am punished for my weakness and stupidity, I am once again shown how much my loving Mistress cares for me. I would wish it no other way.
As I learn and grow more perfect in my service, as I am able to shoulder more of the useless burden my Mistress carries, I feel my life becoming richer and more real to me. I feel as if, finally, there is some worth to me, after all.
I care little for the thoughts of others. I realize that many would find me insane, would find my running away with my Mistress the act of a woman so mad and desperate that she does not realize what she is doing.
To those that would think this way, I can only shrug in pity. They are the lost ones, they are the ones that live in darkness and despair. I have found my place, I have found where I belong, and the loving embrace of discipline and service to my Mistress is that place. It is the only place.
My Mistress has allowed me to rise above mere slavery, and become her strong, right hand. I help to teach and train the poor, unfortunate young women that she so graciously allows to become her slaves.
Sometimes I get angry, for they are often so foolish and willful, that they do not realize how lucky they are. They often fight her training, and try to escape, but eventually, we bring them around, show them the true way.
Now, as I sit at the small desk that my Mistress has allowed me to have in my room, I think of this and I dream of the day when I will not be able to think of anything but my Mistress. I wish for it so badly, that my brain often pounds with pain.
I want to no longer have any thoughts concerning me. I want to wipe the past out of my mind and fill the empty blank with nothing but a desire to serve. I know I shall, one day, for I live for nothing but that moment.
Soon, I will no longer think of what happened to me. I will not even be able to remember our escape, the first days of my training, or any of my sad, horrible life before I came under my Mistress's control.
How happy I shall be, then. How alive and free. Never to think of the past, never to remember when I had no Mistress, and had to think for myself. Ahh, even dreaming of it fills me with a blessed peace.