Pet Needs Good Home

Friday evening

I get home from work, put the groceries away that I picked up on my way, kick off my heels. I put some frozen lasagna in the oven, garlic bread in the toaster oven, pour a glass of wine, and go to relax online while dinner cooks. I smile as I select that famous website where people who love bondage and fetish can chat, possibly meet for a date. There are profiles and messages of course but also stories, photos, webcams, lots of exciting things to see.

I smile as the page loads, take off my jacket and blouse. I like my job as a paralegal but wearing a conservative skirt, frilly blouse that comes up to my chin, and jacket every day is a drag. I doubt that anyone knows that I wear an leather under bust corset under my work clothes, although I have received quite a few polite politically correct compliments that I have a remarkable figure. I can't help but giggle at the thought.

My user name and password fill in automatically. I always wonder if it is safe that my user name is ValVC1994 which is awfully close to my real name, Valerie Veronica Charles, and includes my birth year. I'm not worried. If anyone knows me and they use this website I'd like to meet them!

I always glance at my profile in case there are silly typos I did not notice or I feel I should make it more interesting. Since I paid for the premium membership, I uploaded a good photo of me smiling. My hair and makeup were perfect in that one. Shiny sleek shoulder length raven black hair, makeup like for a night out clubbing, not too slutty but smokey eye shadow, perhaps too much eyeliner and mascara though. My profile is fine I decide. It gives my first name, that I live near Washington DC, that I'm 5 feet 4 inches tall, 143 pounds, I even rather proudly mention my 36 C, 26, 38 figure, but most importantly I emphasize that I am a Top seeking women or couples for fun meetings and consensual bondage play.

The website really works. I've emailed and been emailed dozens of times, then spent some face time online with many people in the last few years. I've gone to lunch in good restaurants five times with women or couples, went to a strip club with three women which was a hoot, then went to the homes of a married couple and two single women after everyone felt safe and comfortable. They were decent fun people, we had fun, we're still friends, and yes I had a few wonderful orgasms. I love meeting bottoms who get off in bondage and serve willingly. I imagine I could easily date a rich lawyer from work with just a smile, but what's the fun in that?

One post catches my eye, "Pet needs good home." "That's nice, I think. "I would like a kitten or puppy." My mouth drops open as I read.

Master Lyle and Mistress Vera own a 24/7 dedicated slave girl. She gave herself to another couple on this very website who gave her to them. She craves to live in fetish clothes and bondage every second of the day 365 days a year. She owns nothing and begs to be kept as a sex object. The only restrictions are that you can't kill her or amputate limbs! "Good Heavens!" I think. "This must be an insane scam or ridiculous fantasy," I decide. But I continue reading.

There are photos of her. In one she's kneeling. She wears what looks like nine or ten chokers or collars, each one maybe a half inch or a centimeter tall, some sort of shiny metal. Except that they are not copper or gold, she looks like an African princess or someone who wears a stack of necklaces from her collarbone to just under her chin. She has her palms down on her thighs and seems to have as many bracelets on each forearm. Her blond hair is in ponytail sprouting from the top of her head. There are rings in her septum and nipples and I think in her labia lips but that's not easy to see in the photo. There's another photo of her from the side. She wears as many bangles or whatever they are on her ankles. Her ponytail drapes down to her rump. Her breasts must have been enhanced since they look like cantaloupes. Other than her unusual jewelry or bondage gear, she's naked.

I'm mesmerized as I read that Lyle and Vera made the "jewelry" for her. Lyle worked for Rolls Royce for twenty years, then came to the USA to retire. He can make anything beautifully from metal. If you damage your 1947 Ferrari, he will make a new fender for you from sheet aluminum. Vera happens to design jewelry. With their combined skills, every piece of metal on the woman is shaped to closely follow the contours of her body. They also explain that everything is highly polished surgical quality stainless steel and simply latch together permanently. There are no locks or keys. They would have to be cut off if you wanted to remove them but that would be quite difficult. My eyes widen imagining pounds of steel on her neck, wrists, and ankles forever.

The description continues that her first owners did indeed give her breast implants and the piercings. Plus they tattooed the makeup on her. I go back to the first photo and marvel at the whorish eye shadow, heavy eyeliner, exotic arched eyebrows, dark red lips and wonder what it would be like to always look like a hooker.

Lyle insists this is not a joke. This is what this woman wants to do with her life. They've done everything they can with her and it's time to pass her to another owner. That's the deal. She begs more. She will do any sort of practical everyday housework plus gives the best oral sex you can imagine and craves any sort of penetration.

My oven timer dings. I wander to my kitchen entranced by this woman's depravity and apparent total trust of strangers or, more accurately, her total disregard for extreme danger.

I take a steaming plate of lasagna back to my computer along with the garlic bread and another glass of Chianti.

As I eat, I reread the posting and look at the photos several times. I can't resist. I send a simple brief message asking if the post is legitimate.

Saturday morning

I roll out of bed at 9:30. That's late for me since I get up at 7:00 on work days. I realize sheepishly that I slept in my corset. It's everyday wear for me so I'm not really surprised. I border on being "full figured" so keeping my waist trim is important to me plus it makes me feel sexy. I reach behind my back to untie the laces, slip it off, and head for the shower.

After a lovely hot shower and blow dry of my hair, I simply must lace my corset back on me. This is who I am. It's just a relaxing day off but my leather and 5 inch heels make me feel like a queen. Naturally I put on a little makeup too or I'd feel naked.

I wander to my kitchen where a pot of coffee is ready. I love appliances with timers. I pour a cup, add half and half, grab a yogurt with strawberries and a bagel with cream cheese, then saunter casually to my computer.

There is an email inviting me to speak with Lyle by website chat or Skype or cell phone. He actually included his cell phone number in the message. He suggested that around 11 am today would be a good time. I'm impressed. This openness usually shows a real person with something real to say. It's 10:50 so I put my breakfast plate to the side, crank up the webcam on my PC and call the number he gave. Yes, I check that my webcam shows me from my midriff to the top of my head, clearly displaying my breasts above my leather corset. I want to be clear who and what I am.

The connection takes only a few seconds. We are face to face quickly.

"Good morning Valerie," a pleasant man in his forties says with a smile. "I'm Lyle and I believe we have much to discuss." He's handsome, brown hair with a little gray at his temples, gray eyes, wearing a simple black shirt probably cotton.

"Good morning Lyle," I answer. "So tell me all about this woman. Does she really belong to you? How can this work legally. This sounds like an absurd fantasy."

"I swear it's all true," he states with a serious look on his face. "She wants to be a sex slave more than anything in the world. Let me explain. Her parents died in a tragic car accident when she was eighteen. She inherited their estate and investments plus got a large settlement from the trucking company whose driver was at fault. She's quite wealthy. But soon after that her Marine boyfriend was killed in Afghanistan. She was devastated. He had been her Master and they were to be married. They had met on the same website where we met. They both loved BDSM and kinky sex. They were going to make a life of it but it all exploded in a series of horrific events. Her life disintegrated. She felt she had no other place to turn. She offered herself as a sex slave on this website with very few conditions.

I slump back in my chair stunned. This feels 10% believable, 90% a crazy scam, but the 10% is impossible to ignore.

"Wait Lyle, how can anyone flirt with extreme submission such as this? She could easily be killed or maimed,." I said with real concern.

"Well, I don't think she's insane," he began calmly. "She sought and met sensible legitimate people. Her lawyer knows where she is and who she is with. Every year her CPA sends tax forms for her to sign. She's not lost or hidden. She simply wants and loves to live the most extreme slavery possible. She found people who use her as an artist's canvas to create a work of art, an extreme slut. But more importantly, we care for her."

I pause a moment considering what this young woman chose as her life. Then I smile slightly since Lyle is obviously focused on my breasts.

"Lyle," I ask,"Your profile shows that you are in Pennsylvania less than an hour drive from me. Is that correct? Can I see her?"

"Yes and yes," Lyle answers, " But it is you whom we will interview. The point is that you must meet our approval to be considered as her owner. Vera and I were interviewed by her first owners. James and Jennifer live in New Jersey. He's a Podiatrist. She's a Realtor. They have an elegant suburban home and mainly kept her in their basement dungeon, which is very well equipped. They needed to be sure we weren't lunatics, had a safe place for her to live, and find out what we would offer to enhance her experience. Vera and I have been contacted fourteen times about this slave. We politely turned them down. Most were only browsing or fakes, even the real Dominants simply were not good enough with nothing to really offer."

This makes me think very hard. I had not considered that a slave owner has obligations and responsibilities. What can I offer?

"Lyle, that makes me feel much better," I state smiling at my webcam. "Very sensible. I have a good job and income. I'm single but own a nice town house with an extra bedroom that could easily be made into a fine sexual torture chamber for her. I would force her to orgasm for hours. That is exquisite torture for a woman. I also think she needs waist training, a corset like mine would be a good start. I'll wager that I can get her waist down to sixteen inches over time. I think she needs to learn to walk with ballet booties locked on her feet. I have an extensive collection of fetish shoes and clothing that I believe she needs. I also have girlfriends that I'm sure she'd enjoy meeting."

Lyle seems lost in thought, silent on the screen.

"One more thing Lyle," I lean toward the camera as if confiding a sensitive matter. "I had a very elaborate sybian custom made for me. I'm sure she would love it. It has two dildos that thrust and a vibrator that presses against the user's clitoris. I can raise or lower how deeply the dildos penetrate. I can make the dildos stroke slowly, like only once every few seconds, or dozens of times a minute. I can regulate the vibrator from a slow hum to a screaming fury. If I hog tie her kneeling over it, she would have the most amazing experiences totally at my control."

"Give me your address Valerie," Lyle states plainly. "When would be a good time for us to bring her to you?"

Saturday the next week 11:00am

The doorbell chimes. Since I'm dressed only in erotic leather, I peer cautiously through the peep hole. I thought I should dress better than when Lyle saw me online. Of course I wear my favorite under bust corset but added a tight miniskirt, bolero jacket, thigh high stiletto boots, and fingerless gloves, all black leather. My boobs are not really covered and I like that.

I recognize Lyle who is sexy in black leather like a biker. I've only seen a photo of Vera on the website but that must be her. Vera has a gorgeous figure for a woman in her late thirties, maybe early forties I judge. She looks fabulous in a cherry red latex gown with oodles of gold jewelry. I've seen that gown online. It's called a mermaid gown. I want one in black. That's a bit much for a Saturday morning but I appreciate that they dressed well to meet me. I notice that an expensive Jaguar E-Pace SUV is parked in the space in front of my town house next to my Acura RDX.

Behind them is a woman in a black burka like strictly religious Muslim women wear. I can not see an inch of skin. Even her eyes are hidden behind almost opaque lace about four inches wide, an inch tall.

There is no one else visible outside so I open my door wide.

"Welcome! I'm so glad you found my home and right on time too. Please come in," I invite cheerfully.

Lyle and Vera both smile. He gallantly takes Vera's hand and escorts her inside. The mass of black shuffles forward and I hear the rather musical clinking of metal.

"Would you like a drink? Snacks?" I ask as I offer the love seat to the couple.

They look around apparently liking my furnishings that are mainly black leather and dark mahogany. Vera seems particularly interested in my lesbian art. I have a framed print of Simeon Solomon's nineteenth century depiction of Sappho. That's my prize possession. But there are many portraits on my walls and statues in my book case or on end tables of women kissing, women entwined in lovemaking. I see Vera's eyes dilate. I'll have to speak to her later.

"Nothing for me thank you. I'm fine," says Lyle as he removes the burka from the slave. I then can see that she has a red ball gag filling her mouth and buckled behind her neck, her anklets are chained with about a foot of chain, and two of her bracelets are locked directly together behind her back with a single padlock. It seems she did not have her arms in the sleeves of the burka at all. I had not considered from the photos online that all of her "jewelry" could be used to easily restrain her in an almost infinite number of ways.

"Could I have a glass of ice water please?" asks Vera, "and perhaps bring a saucer of water for the slave too if you don't mind."

At that, Lyle then removes the slave's ball gag. The slave swallows her saliva and licks her lips but says nothing. Lyle points to the floor in front of the love seat. Without a word, the slave kneels there before Vera.

I return from the kitchen with a glass filled with bottled spring water and some ice and a shallow bowl of room temperature tap water. I get a coaster and place Vera's glass on the end table near her. I place the bowl on the floor in front of the slave.

Lyle gently prods the slave's rump with the toe of his boot. "Thank the kind Mistress slave" he commands. "Then beg her if you may drink."

The woman shuffles closer to me on her knees, bends over and kisses my boot toes. "Thank You beautiful Mistress. This unworthy slave is very grateful," she says in between kissing and licking my boots. "May this one drink please?"

I think this is THE most submissive act that I've ever seen and performed with pure sincerity. Her voice is a beautiful deferential whisper too.

"Permission granted," is all that I say as I watch her move to the bowl, bend over again to lap at the water with her tongue like a dog. I hear her nose ring clink against the bowl. I watch her nipple rings sway as her breasts jiggle. Now I can also plainly see that each of her labia lips do indeed have three rings.

Turning toward Lyle I ask, "Perhaps I should show you the arrangements I've made in the last week to keep a slave. Would you like to see?"

Lyle nods and says only, "Please. Vera will watch the slave."

I lead Lyle upstairs to my bedroom first.

"You will see a lot of simple things from the local hardware store," I explain. "Most often she would be leashed to the headboard of my bed. You've told me of her oral sex skills and I intend to take advantage of that often."

I open my closet and proudly display several racks of wicked fetish shoes and boots. I open two drawers of my dresser and pull out several corsets in leather and rubber, latex panties with dildos built in, latex and rubber bras and thongs. Another drawer contains dozens of dildos and vibrators. The bottom drawer is full of ball gags, head harness panel gags, handcuffs and leg irons in several designs.

"She's about my size but I already ordered a corset made especially for her," I explain. "There is a famous corsetière in Belgium that has been making corsets for royalty and celebrities for four hundred years. They are very expensive but worth every penny. Hers will be thick leather heavily boned with spring steel and a locking flap will cover the laces. Just wearing it will reduce her waist two or three inches at first. Over time I will do much better than that, tightening it more every week. Temporarily, she can wear my first corset from when I was sixteen. That should be tight enough. I was smaller then." I blush a little.

Oh! When I get her shoe size I'll find something wild for her too. She will learn to walk en pointe like a ballerina." I grin.

Lyle smiles as I lead him to the spare bedroom.

"This is my very special toy Lyle," I beam a big smile proudly. In the center of the room is my custom made sybian. "I do not know of another like it in the world. You wouldn't believe how difficult it was to explain the design I wanted and how many people it took to make him."

"Him?" queries Lyle. I ignore the question and continue.

"He's about two feet from the floor to the saddle. He's not at all like common cheap sybians," I continue explaining, enjoying myself. "The saddle is three inches wide and contoured to fit the crotch snugly with the rider's legs spread obscenely wide. It curves up in the front to press against a woman's sex, especially her clit. In the back it hugs the rider's ass cheeks so she is firmly on the dildos and can barely move. The rider must wiggle down into it because it fits so snugly."

"When I used it in the past, I had my partner kneel on pillows so her knees were supported," I explain. "My date would perform oral sex on me while riding to a series of orgasms. Oodles of fun! I suspect that with no pillows the slave's knees would not reach the floor and she would be supported only by her sex." I giggle.

I pick up the control which is designed for remote controlled toy airplanes. "Look at all the functions Lyle!" I demonstrate excitedly. I move the right joy stick forward and the vaginal dildo extends from its resting position of two inches to protrude four inches." I move the left joystick forward and the rectal dildo also extends. "That's done with something like scissors jacks that a car might have except they're motorized. They can thrust four inches powered by two more motors so when retracted they pump from two to six inches in the user, when extended they pump as much as four to eight inches. They can be controlled separately or in unison. They're a bit bumpy in their shape but coated with Teflon."

I turn the function knob and now the two joysticks each control how fast the dildos pump at the depth of penetration I selected before. Slowly at first, then faster as I push the levers more. I turn another knob and the vibrator where the user's clit would be starts to hum, then almost screams.

"There are four motors in there, five if you count the vibrator. I can make magic with this thing," I announce proudly. "It cost a lot but it can be heaven or hell for a woman."