Betrayal

He had been my Master for nearly a year. I cannot say exactly why I so enjoyed the humiliation, the torment and the pain that he made me endure. But I did. Very much. My feeling for him was like an addiction. Many times I thought, “I’ve had enough. I can’t stand this. This is the last time.” But I always came back. I needed him. And he knew, and he used that knowledge to take my humiliation and torment to another, much higher, level.

“You’ve done all right, slave,” he had said. “But I’m still not sure you are mine. I need you to prove it absolutely. I want you to bring me another slave. I think I would like that.”

I was shocked and did not know how to respond. Although our Master-slave relationship was complete when we were alone in private, we had always been discrete. Surely I was a doting and obedient girlfriend when we were together in public, but nothing too obvious. He knew how much I feared that others would discover my submissive nature and strange erotic dreams.

“Bring me another slave—your choice, but she must be attractive to me, of course,” he said flatly, “And don’t come back here again without one.”

Forget the bondage, the floggings, the amazing things he had done to me and made me do. Banishment. That would be the worst punishment he could ever administer. As I say, I was addicted to him and I had no choic

I had met my Master at a seminar in Bangkok, where we both live. I am a Thai lady. Twenty-five years old. Not a knockout, but cute enough, or so everyone tells me. I am trim, with nice legs, 34-C breasts, long straight jet-black hair, and rather fair skin for a Thai lady. My mother’s family originally came from China.

I was working the registration desk at the seminar when the man who would become my Master came up to register. He was an American in his forties, but still in good shape and rather handsome. I recognized his name, and remembered I had spoken to him when he made his reservation. I told him so. In light of what was to come, he was surprisingly shy and soft-spoken. He said he remembered speaking to me. I offered him my business card and he said he would call me sometime. He did so, about a week later.

I digress. How that call progressed into my current position as the lucky slave to a remarkable Master—equal parts caring and cruel—is a long story that perhaps I will tell you some other time. My task in writing at this time is to tell my story of seeming betrayal, the tale of what happened when my Master demanded that I provide him a second slave.

It took me several days to decide what to do. I thought seriously of finding a prostitute who might be willing. Or perhaps to try roaming the bars for a likely candidate. But I could not bring myself to do it. Not nearly. I could not bring myself to discussing such things with a stranger. Finally I decided that I must talk to my best friend, Ying. I would carefully feel her out on the subject, and see if she would help me out. We were best friends, after all.

Much to my shame, though, in the end I tricked her. I had never told Ying that I was having a relationship, let alone the nature of the relationship. Ying thought I still needed a boyfriend, and often tried to set me up. My secrecy about having “a friend” had bothered me a long time, because apart from that—and my interest in being dominated—I told her everything.

Desperate, though, to bring my Master another slave so I could see him again, I told Ying I had met a remarkable gentleman whom I wanted her to meet. He had, I said, invited us to his home for dinner. She was so happy that I had finally found a man that interested me. She said she was dying to meet him. We made a “date” to go to his home on Friday night.

I called my Master to let him know. As if he could read my mind, which I think he truly can, he asked, “Does Ying know she is to be my slave?” Of course I could not lie to my Master. “Not yet,” I had stammered, “I thought maybe you would like the privilege of telling her.”

“Good,” he said, much to my relief. “That will make things more interesting—for all of us.”

When Ying and I arrived on Friday night, he was at first the charming host. He fixed us drinks and served them himself. During some mostly idle chitchat, my Master remarked what great friends Ying and I seemed to be. Ying had answered, innocently I think, “Yes. I would do anything for Ning, and I am sure she would do the same for me.”

My Master smiled and said kindly, “I thought so. But do you mean anything?” She responded without hesitating, “Anything.”

“Right,” he said, and then suddenly, “Ning, stand on the table, now.”

I was terrified by his sudden order, but did not hesitate to comply, setting my drink down and standing on the coffee table. “Tell Ying you are my slave and do everything I order”, he said. Tears of shame at my position, and my betrayal of my friend welled in my eyes.

“I obey your every order, Master,” I said, in a tone barely above a whisper.

“O.K., then,” he said, “take you dress off now.”

As he had ordered beforehand, I was wearing a short black dress, black stockings and garters, black pumps, with rather long heels. I suppose under the circumstances I hesitated a little, even though I feared any hesitation would displease my Master. What could Ying be thinking? I could not even look in her direction. I reached behind my neck, unhooked and unzipped the back, then pulled my dress off over my head. This was not easy, standing as I was in heels on a coffee table. I nearly fell as I leaned forward to pull the dress over my long black hair.

“You look lovely,” my Master said. “Turn around and bend forward. Grab your ankles.” To keep my balance I had to spread my legs beyond shoulder width. My hair hung to the floor. My ass and a portion of my pussy were exposed—almost thrust—toward my Master and Ying sitting together on the sofa. My view of them would have been framed by my long legs, but I had shut my eyes. I could not bear to look at the friend I had betrayed. I nearly stood down off the table and told my Master that I could take any punishment, but I could not lead to my friend’s punishment. But I didn’t. I stayed in my awkward position on the table. There was a strange silence, as neither my Master nor Ying said word.

Finally, my Master broke the silence with an order, “Don’t be shy, slave, open your eyes and look at us.” Again, I barely had the nerve to obey, but I had even less nerve not to. When I opened my eyes I focused on my Master, who wore a small smile. Out of the corner of my eye I hazarded a glance at Ying. I could not read her face. Shock? Horror? Disgust? Fear? It might have been any or all of them. But what I thought I saw was wonder and amazement. Even if I was right, though, I could not know what amazed her.

My Master reached out and pinched my buttocks. He ran his hand along the length of my leg. I knew he likes the feel of stockings on my legs. “She has lovely legs,” he said, as much as if he were talking to himself as Ying.

“Get your collar and leash, slave,” he said. I knew from the nature of his order that I would not be allowed to walk. I stepped down from the table and crawled to the maid’s room, where I knew the collar and leash were kept. I felt miserable at the thought of crawling in front of Ying, but was relieved to get off the table and out of the room, if only for a moment. I could not delay though. I returned to the room, crawling, with the collar and leash in my mouth, as my Master wished whenever I retrieved them. My Master fastened the collar on my neck, snapped the leash into place, and—much to my surprise—handed it to Ying.

“You have a terrific friend, slave. She’s beautiful. Beautiful and loyal, for as she said she would do anything for you. Show your appreciation. Worship her feet,” my Master ordered.

Hardly believing I was doing this, I knelt at Ying’s feet. She was wearing open-toed high-heeled sandals over flesh colored pantyhose. I kissed the tops of her toes gingerly. I could tell, I think, that Ying didn’t know what to do. Should she pull her feet away? Would that help or hurt my humiliating position?

“You worship feet much better than that, I know you do,” my Master said sharply. “Remove her shoes. Suck her toes. Lick her arches. She has said, after all, that she would do anything for you. Show your gratitude.” I had often worshipped my Master’s feet, but no one else’s. I could not believe that I was doing this with someone besides my Master, a woman at that, my best friend Ying. Still, so it was. I unstrapped and removed her shoes, caressed her feet and did as I had been ordered.

“Now,” my Master said, “Tell Ying why you brought—should I say “lured”—her here. Remember, she said she would anything for you.” Every time he reminded me—and Ying—of her pledge of loyalty I burned with shame and regret.

I broke down crying. This I could not do. I sobbed at the feet of Ying and said, “Please no, Master, I have made a terrible mistake. I love Ying. I can’t ask her to do this. Punish me however you will. I won’t do it.”

My protests were cut short. Surprisingly, though, it was not my Master but Ying, “I think I understand the situation, Ning. A friend’s a friend. Obey your Master.”

I was shocked. My tears were now a wild mixture of remorse and gratitude. I hated the words but I said them, “Ying, I have betrayed you. I have brought you here to be my Master’s slave. Forgive me.” Now, without prompting, I was showering my friends feet with kisses in search of forgiveness. I hugged Ying’s calves and said, “I’m so, so sorry.”

My Master interrupted and said to my friend, “Ying, I would never do something like this without the full consent of my slave. You have a choice. You can walk out of here right now. No hard feelings. I will respect you either way. It’s your choice. If Ning wishes to leave with you, that’s her choice as well. If you two want to talk about it, I’ll even leave the room.”

Ying did not hesitate. “I wish to be your slave, Master. Please take me too,” she said, as she handed my leash to my Master.

I was shocked, but my Master almost seemed to expect it. “All right then. It seems Ning has done you a great favor. Ning, back on the table. Ying, on your knees and show your gratitude. Kiss her feet. Worship them.”

This was all so strange. Ying and I exchanged a brief glance of confusion. But we were both obedient. In no time I was again standing awkwardly on the table as Ying, still fully clothed, except her shoes, knelt and kissed my black pumps.

“Lift your right foot, Ning. Ying, suck her heel then remove her shoe with your mouth. Standing on the table, I was able to brace myself with a hand on the ceiling and lift my foot to Ying’s waiting mouth as he had ordered. Ying’s face showed no emotion as she briefly sucked the heel then pulled the pump off my foot.

“Suck her toes,” my Master ordered, and she did. Despite my feelings of humiliation and betrayal, I was somehow intensely aroused at the amazing feel and sight of my lovely friend sucking my toes then, without being ordered, running her tongue along my sole and instep before sucking my ankle bone.

“O.K., now her left foot, and this time don’t be so quick with the heel, Ying. Think of it as your Master’s manhood. Your first chance to please me. You’ll have many.”

My view of Ying as she nipped at and ran her tongue up and down my long heel was incredible. Ying looked up into my eyes. It was for all the world the look of a slave intent on pleasing her Master’s throbbing member. Without even thinking I began to gently pump my foot as Ying took my heel in her luscious mouth. I risked a glance at my Master and noted that he too was aroused. He was staring like a schoolboy and his erection was obvious under his pants.

“Enough then,” he said, “remove her shoe.” Ying did so. My Master—our Master—next ordered us to stand before him. I was ordered to remove Ying’s dress and I did so as Ying looked shyly down at the floor. My Master took Ying’s lovely face in his hands and said to me, “Slave Ning, you have brought me a beautiful new slave. You will rewarded tonight, surely.” I felt pride that I knew was not becoming of a slave—especially one who had betrayed her friend.

“Ning, get the bag,” he ordered, and I padded off in my stocking feet to retrieve the bag as Ying stood in her panty hose before her new Master.

When I returned, Ying was ordered to lie on her back on the coffee table. She did so. Next I was ordered to place wrist cuffs on Ying and fasten her arms on the table legs. I hated doing it, for I knew from experience the pain of having your arms pulled back and restrained in this fashion on this very table. But I did it all the same, whispering an apology to my loyal friend. She whispered a response, “Don’t worry. I want this. We are in this together—to serve our Master.”

When Ying’s arms were locked in place, our Master ordered me to roll her pantyhose and panties to her ankles and fasten her ankle cuffs above the hose. He told me to roll her hose down slowly. I slipped my fingers under the waistband of her hose and did as ordered. Next I slid her panties down. I could not help but admire how beautiful my friend’s legs were, and how beautiful—and wet!—was her pussy. After I clipped on her ankle cuffs and fastened her legs on the table legs, Ying was spread-eagled on the coffee table. I knelt obediently before my Master.

He placed my cuffs on my wrists and ankles, fastened the ankle cuffs to each other, and ordered me to crawl, as best I could with my ankles together, to the end of the table, the end at which Ying’s wrists were shackled. My Master fastened my wrists to the same hooks that held Ying’s wrists. Saying nothing more, he left the room.

I was used to this from my Master. He often left me in an uncomfortable position without explanation. Not knowing where he was going, or for how long, always left me with a sense of utter desperation. Shackled as were together, my hair hung over the face of lovely Ying. My tears welled again, and a few dripped down on her face.

“Ying, I’m so sorry,” I said, “I chose this world and I dragged you into it.”

She smiled slightly and said, “Ning, quit apologizing. You’re my best friend. We are alike in so many ways. If this is your world, I want to be a part of it. It was my choice.”

I felt so heartened by her words I could not help but lower my head to kiss her. Despite our close friendship I had never even thought of doing so before. She raised her head slightly to meet my kiss. I only meant to give her a small kiss of thanks. I was surprised when her lips parted and her tongue reached out to mine. Her kiss was one of passion, and I returned it in kind. I had never even thought of a woman in this way before, but somehow the strange erotic experience of this evening—and being shackled as we were together—sent a surge of desire through my body. Ying clearly felt the same. We needed each other.

Our kiss was the most intense I have ever experienced. We both sucked air from each other. Gently bit each other’s tongues. Ran our tongues over each other’s teeth. I pulled away briefly and licked my tearstains from her cheeks. We kissed again, with even greater fervor. Ying pulled away, licked deep into my ear, pursed her lips and blew gently, but steadily, in my ear. I did the same. We were both overcome with desire.

But restrained as we were there was little more to do. I could see Ying’s body occasionally strain at her leg restraints. I could only edge my own shackled legs forward slightly. We locked our fingers together, and continued our passionate kissing. Mouth, ears, nose throats. I yearned to have Ying’s beautiful body, and she mine, but it was not possible. For the first time, I noted tears well in Ying’s eyes, tears of frustration. I gently kissed them away.

“Enjoying yourselves, slaves?” our Master said as he returned to the room. “Do you want more of each other? I think so. Don’t worry. If you are good slaves, you will get it. In fact, seeing you together brings me much pleasure.”

(To be continued? Please let me know if you would like me to continue with this story. I have some ideas, but have not written them out yet… In any event, thanks for taking the time to read this…)