Janet was a black slave living in the twenty-first century. She was owned, but not bought. It was her choice, her lifestyle, and she would live no other way.
Carl was her Master. He was middle aged white man living in the suburbs of Atlanta. He was divorced with two kids. Janet wasn't his first slave. He had many in the past fifteen years. He would keep a slave for a year or two, then release her. They all knew this before they put on his collar.
Janet wasn't his first black slave. But he didn't pick them by color. He knew what he was looking for in a slave, and usually got what he pursued. At 46, he was beginning to feel like he needed more stability. Someone to live with. Could Janet be the one? She was certainly beautiful with her dark caramel skin and her dancer's body. But too young for him at 24. He knew that soon he would have to release her.
They had met on a bdsm cruise. At the time he had another slave under contract for a year. She did a few poly scenes with them on the boat and ashore. It was Tess, the slave, who suggested to Janet that she should let Carl train her. Janet had always been attracted to older white men. The idea of a contract intrigued her. She was working on her Master's degree in psychology at Emory, and while wanting to be owned, at the same time she didn't want to be tied down. There was much in the world that she wanted to experience.
It had been two weeks since their last adventure. She was getting ready for the long drive into the mountains to his cabin. She was allowed to wear only a robe and shoes until the reached the gate of the property. Then she would drive nude down the quarter mile drive. He would be there waiting for her. She never knew quite what to expect. His only pattern was unpredictability. Her mind flashed back to other meetings. Her pussy was damp with naughty thoughts. And still she was an hour away. The wait was almost unbearable. At last she drove through the gate and threw off the robe. He was waiting at the end of the drive. She got out and kissed his boots, then laid her face against them.
"Hello slave. And don't speak. It's such a nice day we are going to play outside for a bit. I have something to set up. It won't be long," he said.
She felt like she had been tied for hours. But it had only been thirty minutes. Her back was getting sore from the irregular pine bark. Her hands were tied around the tree as she sat at the base. Her weight kept the butt plug deep in her ass. The three-foot horsehair tail attached to the plug was pulled forward in front of her. Her legs were shackled with an eight inch heavy chain connected to leather restraints. She wished for the irons, but they left abrasions and he wouldn't use them except on special occasions. She was blinded by a full leather hood, and thankful that it was a cool spring day and not summer. At times she could hear him passing in and out of the cabin. Other times she could feel his eyes on her body.
She felt his footsteps around her. He was a massive man who once played some college football and still made an effort to stay in shape. She was 5' 8", but felt like a child next to his 6'4" frame. She felt two large fingers working into her wetness. They could feel like a cock, and he had fucked her that way at times, driving her to orgasm after orgasm. He pulled off her hood, and stuck his cock deep in her mouth until she gagged.
"Good afternoon, slave, it has been two weeks since I've seen you. Has it been a long two weeks for you?"
"Yes, Master, it has been an eternity, how may I please you?"
"In many ways as always, slave. Let's get you untied and in the cabin."
He attached a six-fool leash to the collar and led her across the grass. She struggled with tiny baby steps to keep up with him. He got behind her as they got to the steps in case she fell as she hopped up the six steps. He opened the door for her. Once inside, she dropped to her knees and kissed his feet.
"Get that ass up in the air," he said.
She knew what was coming next. She wasn't an anal virgin before she met him even though his huge cock made it feel like she was. And gentle wasn't in his vocabulary when it came to ass fucking. She cried the first time. It wasn't until the third time when she could get past the pain enough to enjoy it. Now she craved it like nothing else.
