Collar Me Ch 01

Chapter 1: Cuffed

You understand that if you say "I've changed my mind" we stop, but when the collar goes on, that's it—for tonight, we own you.

"Yes," I said, trying to sound confident. I asked for this, but knowing that I had asked to be cuffed, stripped, collared, and sold, I doubt I succeeded.

"Very well, turn around."

I hesitated for a second, then turned and placed my hands behind my back. It seemed a long wait before cool metal closed about my wrists. I turned back to face him, both to mask a slight shudder and to hide my testing the cuffs, as I tried, unsuccessfully, to move my hands apart.

"You won't be able to do that without the key, don't worry."

I guess I wasn't as subtle as I imagined, or perhaps no one can resist trying, and he had done this many times before. He was tall and muscular, wearing a black so intense it seemed to suck up the light. He had sharp cheekbones, almond skin and amber-flecked eyes.

Those eyes looked me up and down, slowly, carefully and appraisingly. Black hair piled upon my head, green eyes, white skin, red lips. Emerald silk, snug around my throat, draping my breasts, clinging to my belly, flowing around my legs to the floor. But backless, open and exposed from neck to waist.

"It seems a shame to waste you on some stranger; perhaps I should just take you for myself" he said, reaching up to stroke my breast.

I stumbled a half-step back, but could go no further—two large bodies blocked any retreat. One grabbed my arm to stop me from tripping, but also held me helplessly in place.

"Yes" he said, as he cupped my breast, "I'm going to enjoy this."

I tried to wriggle aside, but it just served to rub me against the creamy silk and his hand. I could feel my nipple harden and heat radiate—upward into my cheeks and downward into my loins.

He chuckled. "This is going to be fun—and who knows, maybe I'll get a taste of you later."

With that he picked up a black collar. It was like polished marble, cool and smooth, but hard and unyielding. He said nothing, but I couldn't miss the message. I would soon be wearing that unyielding collar—but nothing else.

"Are you ready?"

I tried to speak, but my tongue was getting signals so scrambled between "Yes, let's do this" and "No, no, no, this is crazy, I've changed my mind" that nothing came out. Instead I just nodded, shaking loose a curl of hair to hang across my eye and along my cheek.

With that, the hands at my back propelled me forward, through a curtain of hanging beads. They slid over me, hundreds of light fingers caressing my body. The swirling mix of heat and panic intensified sensation. One strand ran over my right breast, and I could feel each bead as it gently thumped against my nipple.

I was standing in pool of light so bright I could only see shadowy outlines of human shapes in the darkness beyond. I'd only been moved a few meters but I was breathing like I'd run up a flight of stairs. The hands steadied me on my feet before the large figures retreated. I looked again at the shapes beyond the edge of dark. One of those shadows was going to buy my body. But it wasn't going to be a shadow that bought me—it was going to be a live man and he was going to want his money's worth.

I stared about, trying to see the men beyond the light—oh my god, there were women too! My fantasy was being sold to a man who would ravish and fill me. What if a woman bought me instead? I had no time to ponder what it would be like to be forced to serve a woman, as the black-clad man turned to the crowd.

"Here is our merchandise for this evening."

Turning back, his amber eyes met mine and held them for a moment; then he stepped behind me, close enough that I could feel his heat on the bare skin of my back. His breath was warm on my shoulder as were his fingers on the soft skin below my ear. But there seemed no softness in the fingers that latched onto my dress. With a twitch of his fingers, the pop of a snap opening echoed in my ear and I spasmed. I could swear the entire room heard that quiet noise, and know as I did, that with only two more snaps, the neck would fall open.

"That's one" he said, and I jerked again, his voice breaking me out of my reverie.

I worked my arms, trying to pull my hands free, but they were locked, and would stay that way. Until my new owner unlocked them to claim for his service. I couldn't do this. I had to tell him I had changed my mind and to let me go. But I couldn't make my mouth open. It seemed frozen. There was a second pop as another snap opened and again I jerked and shuddered as I struggled for words.

"That's two."

Just as his fingers tightened for the third time "Stop, oh please stop" broke free from my lips. Getting those few words out took so much energy my knees buckled. Only his grip on my arm kept me standing.

"What? You want me to stop? His voice wasn't loud, but it had a penetrating depth that resonated in my core and carried to the farthest reaches of the room. "She thinks she can tell me to stop!" But then a soft whisper in my ear: "remember, if you really want me to stop, say that you changed your mind—have you changed your mind?"

With one hand, he held me on my feet, but the other was still locked on the third snap. Did I really want him to stop? A drip of sweat—or was it a tear—trickled in my eye. I gazed through the blur at the shapes in the room. Speaking still seemed beyond me; instead, I let my head fall forward, exposing the back of my neck and the last snap.

There was a third pop—louder than the first two, deafening it seemed to me, and the tight silk at my throat loosened. But it didn't immediately fall away.

"Are you ready?" he called to the crowd. But I knew the words were for me.

I heard no response from my own lips so one must have come from elsewhere, because he let go. His hand opened and the silk slithered away, slowly at first as it slid round my neck and down my chest but faster as it spilled over my breasts and past my belly. The top fell away, but the clinging waist kept me from being completely stripped.

A roar from the crowd broke through my distraction, but it wasn't a roar of appreciation—it was frustration and disappointment that the dress still hung from my waist and that I wasn't completely naked.

"Patience," he called. "Don't you like what you see?" "Raven hair, full red lips? And surely these breasts are worth savoring for a minute?" And then there was a cheer.

"Turn around once, slowly."

I did, clockwise, shuffling my feet. As I came to face him, his eyes were hard, but inquiring. I met his gaze briefly, blinked another blurry drop from my eye, but then completed the turn and faced the room, squaring my shoulders and feeling my wrists move within the now-warm steel.

I knew what had to come next and tried to hold still as I waited. I anticipated the fingers on the zip, a slow slide as it unleashed the flow that would leave me completely on display. I could imagine the softness of the silk as it slid from my hips, the cool air and hot light on my sex, my thighs, my legs.

I steeled myself to not move and to not jump when he touched me. I closed my eyes to catch my breath and to shield them from the blare of light.

In that instant, he moved, but not slowly, not gently. There was a rush, strong hands at my waist and a sudden rip as he tore the dress away. My eyes shot open to see the emerald cloth drop to my feet and him dismissively kick it away. He grabbed my arms and lifted, straining my shoulders and forcing my chest up and out, raising me to my toes as if I were on heels.

"Here she is—all of her! Is she not lovely? Which will you want first closed about you: her warm mouth or her hot cunt? Will you take her before you even unlock her? Will you be able to wait?"

With that he slammed me back onto my feet so hard I tottered, gasping, almost falling.

"But she remains uncollared!" In response, a rough voice from the darkness yelled "not for long!" Then he stepped to face me, his eyes now uninquiring, commanding rather, motioning "down."

"Kneel" he said, holding the collar in front of him, now open and yawning wide to engulf my throat.

I hesitated, breathing hard, unable to take my eyes from his, trying to challenge them—but failing. I dropped to my knees and dropped my gaze, staring now at the floor, at his feet, at anything but the gray of the crowd, the white of the light, or the deep black of the collar.

"Repeat after me," he said, "All that I am belongs to my master."

Once again I struggled to speak. Although part of my brain was trying to force my lips to say otherwise, his words tumbled from my mouth.

"To serve the pleasure of his senses."

At that my mind flashed to the women in the shadows—what if it were the pleasure of

her

senses? I tried to say the words, but my voice cracked I was shaking so hard. On my knees, with my arms locked behind me I could barely avoid falling over. The lights were hot, but the sweat sheeting my body was driven not by the heat outside, but by the flame in my cheeks and in my belly.

"Look at me" he demanded. I struggled to raise my head and to look at him.

"My beauty to please his sight."

I pushed those words out but they were still halting and ragged.

"The music of my voice to please his hearing."

I fought to make these words clear, to make them true, to remember that I wanted this.

"My body's perfume to please his smell."

Sweat, fear, the musk of arousal—I could smell these. But were they all coming from me? I could see sweat gleaming on his skin even as I could feel wetness upon my own. The damp under my arms was surely sweat, that on my cheeks a mix with tears, but the moisture below? I knew where that came from.

"The sweetness of my lips to please his taste."

I licked my lips, feeling the smooth gloss and tasting its flavor—a mix of cherry and salt. I thought about a man's rough lips sliding over mine, taking ownership of my mouth, forcing it down to take in his cock, to leave a blood-red smear on his skin. I tried to repeat the words, but all that came out was a gasping "please, oh please..."

"I'm sure you will. Now repeat the words" he ordered.

"The softness of my hair, my skin, and my sex to please his touch."

I could feel my hair where it had fallen, wisping across my cheek and neck, tickling me with the shaking of my body. My skin was flushed, prickling and tingling. My lungs were heaving, swaying my breasts; my hips rocking, sliding. I could almost feel a cock pushing into me, taking me, owning me.

"Collar me."

Oh my god—those were the final words; could I say them? My eyes locked on the gaping collar, like a bird entranced by a cobra.

"I don't need you to say the words" he said, "I just want to hear you beg for this" he laughed as the collar started toward me and its jaws began to claim my throat.

I tried to rear back and to follow it with my eyes while my arms flailed to break free of the cuffs. My rational brain was screaming desperately, trying to force my lips to mouth the words that would save me. But my other lips were also screaming and they were equally desperate, but for the words he demanded.

As the collar slid out of sight about my neck, there was nowhere left to look but his eyes. Those amber eyes, now somehow both questioning and insistent, were filled with power and desire.

"Collar me" I gasped, and with the "snick" of the collar locking, I cried in exultation as I collapsed on the ground, jerking, trembling, and gasping.

I barely noticed as he stepped over me, turned, prodded me with his toe, and announced to the cheering crowd:

"What am I offered for this woman, who is so desperate to serve that just being collared is enough to make her come? Do I hear 1000?"