Induction to a World of Slavery

This is more a collection of images than a story, ones that happened to have been fermenting in my mind this morning. They will, no doubt, be incorporated into and taken further in my actual, narrative based tales...

*

I was now quaking in both fear and excitement. My legs were beginning to dig into the concrete floor and I could feel the imprints that would be left on my kneecaps when I finally stood up. She had left me there, on my knees with my hands bound behind my back; it must have been over ten minutes ago now, and I was beginning to realize that kneeling on the floor was a lot harder to do in practice than how it looked in porn.

This was the first time I had ever been with a Mistress. I had thought about it many times, dreamed about it, fantasized about it. I had signed up to websites that were aimed exclusively at pairing off potential subs with potentials Dominants. All to no avail. So many disparate reasons meant that I never actually ended up meeting with anybody, even when the prospect was a very real one: I was always either too immature, shying off at the last minute out of sheer nerves; too busy trying to get on top of my work; somebody that I'd been particularly getting along with would just stop speaking to me after having had enough of my never being available; or the ideal person, a woman so perfect that you couldn't dream them up, would live 3000 miles away - what with my fear of flying and the fact that my job tied me down, I would never actually lay eyes on them.

I suppose you could ask how serious I could possibly have been as a submissive if I wasn't prepared to give up everything for the right person, to go to any lengths to be with them, to serve them and to make them pleased with me. And that would be a good criticism to level at me, and I'd accept it, but would point out that I'd never actually submitted to anybody in real life, so how could I be sure it was worth dropping everything? A trial run? Well that was exactly what I was doing now, waiting on my knees in the basement of Madam's house, hoping she would return before my legs caved in and I failed my first basic assignment.

And she did return. I couldn't see her because I was blindfolded, but I heard her footsteps above and behind me. She was making her way slowly down the stairs, and I wondered if she was taking her time because she was admiring my naked flesh, taking in my exposed back, bottom and thighs.

'I'll be with you in a second I just have to send this text message...' No she was not taking in my nakedness, but just busy texting somebody. I suppose I wasn't that much to look at anyway; fairly standard frame, not particularly muscled, but not overweight either. My body was, like most other elements of my life - aside from the kneeling naked and waiting to be used part - fairly standard.

'So, what shall we do with you before your special surprise little one?' I had already gotten hard just at the sound of her feet coming down the steps behind me; idea that I was in for a surprise caused my mind to race and my cock to react in a way I had never felt before, despite all those years I wasted masturbating in my teens. It felt as though blood, not pre-cum, was going to seep out of me and form a little pool on the tip of my cock. I couldn't bear the excitement and knew in that instant that I would do anything, anything to hold on to this feeling forever. Madam - she was in her mid forties, I was in my twenties, and she told me she preferred Ma'am or Madam to Mistress, which she associated with younger, less experienced types - said nothing for a few moments, but I could hear her walking around me. I had no doubt that this time she was taking me in, deciding what to do with me. Despite the blindfold I could feel her eyes resting on different parts of my body, in that way when you just know you're being stared at by someone, even though you can't quite tell who or where they are.

Then I felt it, a single finger - the first time she had touched me since I'd arrived - rested itself at the top of my spine, at the nub where my neck ended. I jumped in surprise, and felt my cock again pulsate and strain with excitement. 'Well, if that's all it takes to get you all riled up then we'll have to go slowly with you won't we, little boy?' Her voice was music, and her words were heavenly, there was nothing I wanted to do but have her near me for every single second of the rest of my life.

'No Mistress, please, go any speed you want...' I wasn't sure what else to say, but she obviously didn't mind my reply, because her finger began to feel down the outline of my spine, towards the base of my torso. It felt unbelievable. It felt like electricity was stroking my skin, was tickling and turning on every nodule of my spinal cord. But then I felt my muscles tighten in surprise. Her finger didn't stop when it reached the base of my spine, but continued, albeit at a much slower pace, down towards the crack of my bottom.

'No more interruptions like that slave, I will tell you explicitly when I want you to speak, which will not be often for the time being, do you understand?' I nodded my assent, and noticed that her finger, or rather, the tip of her fingernail, was now etching a path along the line of skin that led down to my hole. I felt my thighs and buttocks begin to tense up, my breathing quickened and head began to spin. This was the first time I had experienced anything like this. Years of vanilla sex, of missionary positions with partners who thought that the odd butt-reddening spank was extremely kinky, and now I had Madam's fingernail tracing a line towards my anus as I knelt naked on the floor, and I had no idea what to do. The only thing I could do was sit and take in the sensation, and hope that she found the job I had done shaving and cleaning that area satisfactory. I had never shaved my pubic hair before, but when we'd first begun speaking over the internet and I'd shared some pictures with her, she let me know just how dissatisfying she found the excess of pubic hair I possessed. So I knelt there before her now with none of that hair present any longer, all shaved off the day before, in anticipation of my meeting with Madam, and in my desire to please her.

Her finger was not stopping, and she twisted her wrist so that the whole tip of her finger now pressed against the top of my crack. How was she managing to continue moving her finger down such a small distance for so long and never reach my hole? It felt like she was a miracle worker who knew exactly how to draw the upmost intense erotic feeling out of a male's skin with the littlest of effort. But just as I considered this her pace quickened, her finger tip slid suddenly downwards and rested on my exposed hole, the skin around which was tightening in anticipation of a possible invasion. Surely, I thought, she wasn't going to just slip her finger inside me, we had only met in real life less than an hour before, and we had barely spoken in that time. But then I felt it, felt the oily coating that lined the tip of her finger. I hadn't noticed it moments earlier for some reason, but now I felt it clearly - there was lube lacing the skin of her finger.

No sooner had I acknowledged this and begun to involuntarily pant like a dog, trying to contain myself, than I felt her finger push violently against my hole. I contracted, and my buttocks clenched, but she took hold of my shoulder with her other hand and held me in position. It was over in less than a few seconds, her finger was inside me and I was dizzy and confused. I had never been penetrated in any way by another human being before. I'd had my own finger in my ass on the odd occasion in my youth, during those experimental years we all go through. But it felt nothing like this, her finger felt like a small snake, quickly darting around my insides working out every crevice, every contour of my bowels.

'I hope you like this, because I have a surprise arriving in a little while, and I need you all ready for it.' I gulped involuntarily, gulped in the way cartoon characters gulp when they realize something terrible is about to happen to them - I didn't think people ever did that in real life, but here I was, gulping down my own fear. I nodded to let her know that I enjoyed the sensation, and my acceptance of this little act seemed to be what she needed, all she needed, to do anything she wanted with me from that point on. Once she realized that I was indeed the submissive slut I'd always claimed I was, deep down inside, she began to open a whole new world to me.

What happened after that can best be recounted in a simple montage of images, a kaleidoscope collage of sensations, of actions and reactions that my body and mind were subjected to over the hours that ensued...

She put one finger from her free hand inside my mouth, whilst her other finger continued its job of probing round the insides of my ass. She fish-hooked my cheek and pulled my face towards hers, kissed me violently on the lips, telling me after she did so that that would be the last time I would taste her lips in such a way for a long time, that if I ever wanted her affection again I would have to behave in a manner that pleased her in every way possible. She slid her fingers out and stood before me, resting her hands on the back of my blindfolded head. She pulled my face towards where I assumed her groin was, slowly, teasing me nearer to her. She said nothing, and the silence only turned me on more. And then I felt the tip of my nose touch something, satin material. The tip of my nose must have been touching her underwear, I could just faintly smell her sex, and she must have noticed my chest rising as I inhaled,

'That's it slave, breath me in, breath in deeply and absorb my scent, my sex. I'm going to drive you insane with my smell, you will be begging for release by the time I'm done with you, and I won't even have touched you, just let you breath me in.' I was panting at the sound of her words, could feel my knees growing weak. Madam could now do whatever she wished to my mind, she clearly knew how to press any and every button that she wanted to, always creating the reaction in me that she desired. I was helpless before her, and wondered whether I was going to die from desire and a sense of overwhelming fulfillment before the day was through.

She stepped away, walked away in fact, into the distance and I heard her making noises, perhaps moving objects. It sounded like metal against wood, or wood against metal, I couldn't tell. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of a whip lashing against the wall, or perhaps it was the floor.

'Poor slave boy, look at that innocent little face contorting in fear. Does it make you want to run away? Hmmm? Does the thought of how painful that whip might be against your smooth little buttocks make you want to tuck your tail, your cock, between those bare naked legs and go running for your life?' I didn't know whether I was supposed to respond or simply sit there, still on my knees, whimpering. I did the latter, and then jumped out of my skin when I felt something touch the back of my neck. But it wasn't a whip. It was a collar. Madam fastened it expertly, effortlessly around my neck in an instant, and I felt her start giving it little teasing tugs,

'Come now, come follow your Madam, your Goddess, stay on all fours and follow where the lead takes you slave.' I did as commanded, still blindfolded, and we began ascending the stairs out of the cellar. I was relieved to be leaving the whip behind having never felt it come into contact with my skin. Despite having masturbated over countless pictures of men and women being whipped by latex clad vixens, and always having wished for a moment that I was one of them, I was now thankful that I wasn't going to taste the whip, at least for now.

I stumbled on the stairs, and whilst I was trying to regain my balance and get back onto all fours properly, Madam simply began tugging harder on the lead, saying nothing, and was almost dragging me up the stairs. I fell about all over the place and must have looked like an incompetent fool, which was no doubt the effect she was going for, humiliating me into submission...

In less that an hour I found myself, still blindfolded, tied splayed out against a wall, my body forming an X shape. I was naked, helpless, and once again waiting for Madam to return.

A door to my left opened, and I heard her high heels stepping across the wooden floor. Again she said nothing, left me to wonder whether she was looking at me, or perhaps just texting somebody again. In the time she had been gone I'd tested the leather straps that held me against the wall, or rather, that held me against the leather surface attached to the wall which she'd arranged me against. The straps were tight, firm, and I could not move or wriggle beneath them. My arms and legs were completely immobile, with straps holding each of them in place, and another running across my forehead, stopping me from turning my head or letting my neck fall forwards.

I heard her step towards me. The darkness of the blindfold was beginning to become a natural sensation, I was growing used to working out what was going on from sounds alone. But I didn't predict what she did next. In an instant my balls were clenched by her hands as she squeezed them harder than I would have thought it possible to do without bursting them. I screamed, writhed against my bonds, but the only part of me that was free to squirm even a little was my chest, which had no straps holding it in place, I breathed deeply, biting into my lip, the muscles in my neck, in my whole body, tightening. I couldn't work out what was more painful, the pressure her hands were exerting on my balls, or the reaction of the rest of my body - my muscles tightening up to the point where I feared I was going to shatter into a million pieces.

'Poor slave boy, look at that heaving chest, those taught muscles. It's useless to fight it, you're mine now and there really is no point in struggling.' She squeezed even tighter, I couldn't believe the pain and wondered if I was going to pass out. I managed to squeeze out the word 'please' from between my clenched teeth, but I couldn't utter more than this one, pathetic little syllable because my mouth refused to do anything but clench shut in agony.

Then, just as quickly as it had arrived, the pressure, the immense pressure, stopped. She let go, and before I knew it my blindfold was being removed as well. The aching in my cock was something I had never experienced, the pain was indescribable, and yet at the same time I was growing hard, and I felt the rush of blood and pleasure through my crotch that normally only comes just before you orgasm. I wanted more, and I had no doubt that all the thoughts, all the sensations running through my head, all the feelings running through my body at that moment, had been calculated by Madam. She knew what she was doing to my body more than I would have thought anybody ever could. And with that thought, the blindfold fell away from my eyes.

I didn't have to wince in order to see, wasn't suddenly blinded by light. The room we were in was lit by just a couple of candles at its far end, on the opposite wall to the one which my body was hanging on. Madam was kneeling down in front of me, head lowered, examining my balls, and rubbing them softly between her fingers, occasionally letting her hand brush the base of my shaft. I could feel all this, but I could not see her properly as my head was still anchored in place by the leather strap around it. I wanted to see her, wanted to see what she was wearing, and wondered whether she had gotten changed out of the tight blue jeans and white blouse top she'd had on when she had answered the door to me originally. I could just make out the top of her shoulders from where I hung, and it seemed as though they were bare now, no silken fabric concealing them. Before I had time to pine for her any longer she stood up and, as though reading my thoughts, removed the strap from my head. As she did so she had to stand on tiptoes, and her face became level with mine, she breathed over me, and her breath smelt of sweet strawberries. She looked me in the eye and smiled as she undid the strap. She was truly beautiful, with deep, wondrous brown eyes and dark - almost black - flowing hair. As the strap came away from my head I bowed my eyes a little, out of a sense of instinctual respect. I didn't want to look at her, didn't feel myself worthy of that honor now, until she told me to do so. But as I looked down I noticed what she was wearing.

The tightest of tight black catsuits clung to her every curve, there was not a crease or fold in it, it was as though the material were part of her skin, a second layer that had grown on the surface of her own body. I wondered what the material was, because I'd never seen anything so captivating, so desirable in all my time spent looking at leather and latex clad bodies on the internet. And her shoulders were not bare as I'd previously thought, the catsuit simply became transparent when it reached her shoulders, and the transparent material continued on up her neck, and ended just below her jawline. She let her breasts press against my chest and said nothing, just held my head up by the chin so that I was now looking into her eyes. The silence was intoxicating, and the feel of her breasts beneath the catsuit, her beautiful, perfect breasts pressing against my chest was too much for me to take, I whimpered as she looked into my eyes, and then ran the backs of her hands gently over the sides of my naked body, making me tingle all over. My cock was wincing at her every breath, her every touch, and as it bobbed between my legs it flicked intermittently against the material of her catsuit, probably tapping at the insides of her thighs, but I didn't dare look. She looked down towards our groins, then looked back into my eyes and smiled.

She stepped back, put a finger across her lips to indicate that I was to maintain my silence, then she turned and walked into the darkness. As she walked away from me I couldn't take my eyes of the beauty of her thighs, I could see easily through the taught material just how toned, how perfectly sculpted her body was; the buttocks that sat atop her thighs, I cannot even begin to describe them. The catsuit clung to every curve of her bottom, and the material sunk deep in between her cheeks, and looked as though it could easily have been vacuum moulded against her skin, as though it could even extend into her body and cover her insides. But that last thought, or flight of imagination, was driven by the intoxication she had made me fall victim to, and by the pain and pleasure that I felt still burning in my cock, and still tingling down my sides where she had just moments before caressed my skin.

She disappeared between the two candles at the far end of the room. It looked as though she had walked right through the blackened wall, but I realized there must have been a curtain there which she had moved behind. I wondered what was in store for me next, what pleasures, what pains, what experiences I was going to undergo in the hours to come.

I didn't have to wonder for long about what some of the things Madam had in store might entail; whilst I was still hanging on the wall alone lights suddenly came on across the ceiling. After finding my eyes initially stunned by the change in light, they quickly adjusted to take in all that lay around me. Every surface was covered with implements, with devices that looked both sinister and sexual at the same time. These implements were complimented by bondage chairs, racks, medical chairs, electro equipment, everything you could thing of that was even mildly BDSM related was present in that room.