Sausages Bacstory

This begins the back story to the Sausages for the Slave stories. Hope you enjoy.

*****

Mary enjoyed watching her husband Dan tapping his PIN number into the ATM. He didn't know what she knew. She knew it wasn't going to work. She noted the familiar little worried pucker of his brow as he digested the message on the screen; 'Wrong PIN number entered. Please re-enter your PIN.'

Mary and Dan had strolled from the car park just off the main street towards their local restaurant. It was to be his treat. He paused at the ATM to get some cash. Giving a cash tip was something Dan felt strongly about. Not to have to put it on the card. Dan was thoughtful like that. Cared about his fellow man. Didn't want the management creaming off the tip; claiming they would put it into some general kitty for all the staff.

Dan re-entered his PIN, even though he knew he had entered the correct four digits the first time. It's the human condition. Try and rationalise away life's little difficulties. Just a random glitch. Won't happen again. Dan was a rational man. He taught science subjects at the local community college. He believed in the scientific method. So he entered the same four digits, but more carefully this time. Speaking them out loud, 'one, nine, eight, three,' the year of his birth.

Just three days ago Mary set herself the task of hacking into Dan's bank account. She changed the PIN on his card within hours of his leaving their house for a three day wellness/spa break she'd arranged for him.

It had taken only minutes to access his PIN and his security questions. Dan had conveniently written them down on the inside back cover of his desk diary, slightly coded, just as she had suggested. Enough so a stranger would be thrown off the scent. DoB; 1984 - one year off the actual. Favourite colour, pink. That means blue. Make of first car, Toyota. That means Honda. And so on.

She changed his security questions. Then changed his bank account's postal address to her work address. His bank account was his no more. She had also changed their joint household bank account into her name, and changed its PIN and security questions too.

Why? Because just five nights earlier Dan had asked to become her slave; forever and in all things. And Mary had agreed after a little hesitation - a just for show hesitation. Dan hadn't thought she would agree there and then. It never occurred to him that Mary might prefer Dan the slave to Dan the husband. Well Mary was quite happy to trade in Dan the husband for Dan the slave. So she was now working briskly to make Dan's slave fantasy happen in a very real way.

While Dan might not have thought that far ahead, but Mary knew that the key to making his slavery real would be to control his access to money. That's why Mary changed his PIN. Mary was like that; a 'can do' sort of person, a 'make it happen' sort of person. Dan was the dreamer and Mary the doer. They made a good team.

'Wrong PIN number entered. This card will be blocked after three incorrect PIN attempts,' read Dan out loud, looking towards Mary, his expression all quizzical and hurt, like a kid who had just dropped his ice cream cone on the ground. That 'Why is this happening to me?' look.

Mary had suggested a three day away break for Dan as a good way of drawing a line under their old husband/wife relationship. Their Mistress/slave life would start when Dan returned. Dan felt this was an unnecessary over-elaboration, but was willing to go along with it. A small price for gaining the prize of sex slavedom that he so desired.

Whatever calming benefits he gained from the wellness break rapidly evaporated in front of the uncooperative ATM. This was not a Zen moment for Dan. He was never big on decisiveness. He was more the collegiate type. The 'so guys, what'll we do now,' type. He had read out the new message on the screen for Mary's benefit and, though he would not admit to it, to seek her advice.

'It's weird. I know I put in the right PIN.'

Mary decided to be supportive and directive at the same time. That's what he wants after all, she thought. Time to give it to him direction. Push him over the cliff.

'It's probably just one of the numbers on the keypad is a bit sticky. You know it's the right PIN, so go for it again. Just push each button real hard.' Rubbish, of course, but a drowning man will clutch at straws.

ONE! NINE! EIGHT! THREE! He went, as if shouting would help. He read the message on screen out to her: 'Wrong PIN number entered. This card is now blocked. Please contact your bank to have the card unblocked.'

'Shit, shit and shit again. How am I going to pay for the restaurant with no cash and no card? '

'Don't worry, dear. I know it is supposed to be you giving me a treat. But I'll sort it this time - if you ask me properly.'

'Would you, please, darling. I'll make it up to you.'

'That is not how a slave begs. Try that again, Slaveboy,' said Mary in a teasing tone, arching an eyebrow.

'Ooh, I like that...Please, Madam. Would you be so kind as to pay for dinner tonight?' Dan felt his cock stir and harden with this unexpected invitation to go into slave mode.

"Good boy," Mary said, giving Dan a playful squeeze of his firm bum as they headed on up the street towards the restaurant.

If Dan had thought about it for a minute, the sudden denial of access to his credit card coinciding with his entry into slavery might have seemed suspicious. But after three days of eating nuts and leaves, drinking whey and slurping foul smelling probiotic gunk, Dan's thoughts were now focussed fully on the meal he was about to have. A nice steak dinner sounds good, he pondered, accompanied by a glass of wine, or two.

Five days ago, when he asked to be Mary's slave, Dan was naked, tied hand and foot on their marriage bed. He was about to have a ball gag strapped into his mouth. Looking down between his wife's black fishnet stockinged, gartered and girdled thighs as she straddled him, he could see his hard and straining cock attempting to reach Mary's pussy.

She kept it hovering above him just out of range, teasing him by occasionally letting her pussy lips brush against the tip of his cock, almost letting it slide in. His whole groin ached and throbbed with desire and in anticipation of the moments of torture and pleasure to come. As Mary leaned in to gag him he had blurted out those fateful words, 'I want to be your slave forever.'

He hadn't planned to say it just like that, or just right then. But he had been thinking about it for so long, and he was so horny, the words just popped out. He felt a bit stupid to have said it out of the blue and when he was tied up and all. What would Mary think? That he was a total moron? He should have waited till breakfast at least.

They usually had their BDSM session on Friday evenings, what with the weekend following on and all. There was no pressure. It could go on all night if the mood was right. They usually started early, after Dan had cleared away the dinner things. That got him in the slave mood. Mary would call out from the living room, 'When you are finished in there, Slaveboy, take yourself upstairs and get naked. It's time I gave you some punishment.' Dan would hop to it, a warm glow of anticipation spreading through his groin.

After she tied him to the bed, Mary would gag Dan and then tease him, running her fingers up and down his straining penis. Giving him a few strokes up and down, then a light slap on the balls, then a few more strokes, and repeat. Maybe a bit of nipple torture too. He liked that she was in control and he couldn't direct her. Thought he often tried, desperately.

She would ignore his grunted attempts to communicate, or else make fun of them.

'What's that mean? Gooo ghanp go gheen. You want me to pinch your nipples harder? OK so.'

'Ahhhh, Ghanna, Gooo, Gooo, Goo gore.'

'Go, go, go? I like your attitude, Slaveboy. However, too much fun is bad for you, I'll leave you alone for a while. Be good.'

Then she would go downstairs, leaving him in the dark, panting and, literally, gagging for more. Tease and denial. Works every time.

After he had said he wanted to be her slave, Mary appeared dubious at first before agreeing to go along with it. She gave him an 'OK so, but I'll have to do some thinking about what this means, exactly.' Truth was she knew totally what this meant, exactly. More than Dan did even.

Since Mary didn't give him an outright 'No way am I getting into that' sort of rejection, Dan had rushed straight on to get his prepared speech out there before she gagged him. He blurted that he would obey her in everything, absolutely everything. He would be such a good slave, although he expected, he said, that he would have to be punished now and again, in any event. He didn't get to say anything more because Mary went ahead and gagged him anyway. She left him alone to stew in his horny captivity while she went downstairs to pretend to think about it all.

Dan was delighted with Mary's reply. He was half expecting a 'Don't be stupid' response. Or that she would say it was a ridiculous notion. He was amazed that Mary had more or less acceded to his request there and then. He had been prepared to spend a couple of weeks at least persuading and cajoling her along to the next exciting step in his femdom BDSM fantasy.

That fateful Friday night of his slavery request was the beginning of the mid-term break. That meant Dan was off school all the following week. A happy coincidence which allowed Mary kick things along once Dan had made his big offer. First thing the next day she booked Dan onto a wellness break that started Monday morning and ended Wednesday afternoon.

Mary sold the wellness break to Dan as a good way of preparing for his new slave status. Her treat. A chance for emptying the mind and all that. Distancing him from material concerns and so on. Three days of complete holistic blah, blah, relaxation, meditation, healthy eating, yoga, whatever. He would come back mentally recalibrated and ready to enter into his slave status. The rules for the place included that he should not bring any material possessions.

There was a list of instructions about what not to bring to the spa. No digital devices were allowed. A digital detox was part of the course. The brochure said something about letting you mind empty out. No cash and no cards either. Remove yourself completely from material devices it said. Live in the now.

Mary made sure there was no cheating; packed his bag as instructed- toothbrush, toothpaste and shaving gear only. She personally checked his pockets were empty. She held his wallet, keys and mobile phone in her hand as she sent him off in the taxi. The Spa had an account with the taxi outfit and would look after payment. Dan looked a tad uncomfortable as she waved him off. He'd feel more uncomfortable if he knew he'd be coming back as a real slave, not a 'slave when he wants to be a slave' type of slave.

It had been Dan's idea to celebrate his return from the wellness break and the beginning of the new 'them' with a dinner out. The next morning, he felt, would be a good time to formally start their new life. He would get out of bed as his Mistress' house slave. He would ask his Mistress how he could best serve her before she went to her job. In the evening he would be waiting for her. He would spend the day doing the house chores and have dinner cooked and ready for them both.

He had fantasised about her finding a few minor faults with his cooking. That would earn him a little formal punishment. Maybe made strip, and told to be prepared for a spanking after he had loaded the dishwasher naked. Then they would go to bed and he would do whatever she wished. And so they would cement their new relationship of Mistress and slave. That's what Dan sort of imagined anyway.

Just the thought of it had kept him horny all of Wednesday while he was still on the wellness break. Someone was droning on about taking their learning and relaxation techniques away with them from the centre; the importance of staying connected with your inner self; the need for regular spiritual renewal.

Dan had only one need and there was nothing spiritual about it. His cock strained hard against his underpants and steadily leaked precum. There has been no opportunity for relief at the centre. The participants had to share a communal dorm, called a 'shared healing space,' but it was what it was, a communal dorm complete with snores and grunts in the night, and worse; smells.

Dan was shocked to find that there was no door on the toilet stalls and the showers were communal too. Not that anyone landed in on top of you, but you didn't linger. Reducing private space to increase shared experience was the mumbo jumbo explanation.

Soon as the taxi dropped him back home Wednesday evening, Mary could see that Dan was raring to go. She had playfully slapped his crotch every so often saying, 'Down Boy.' They both knew her attentions were having the opposite effect. But Dan was loving it, really.

By the time they set off for the restaurant the wellness thingie was already fading from his mind. Dan was looking forward to having a decent meal to celebrate the moment before commencing his life as Dan the slaveboy. Dan had no clue about how busy Mary had been in his absence.

He was totally oblivious of the ambush he was walking into that evening. When she had given him back his wallet earlier, Mary explained the missing cash by saying she had needed some and took his to save her going to the ATM. He could top up tonight at the ATM on the way to the restaurant, she had suggested.

She had made a little game of not giving him his keys. He'd have to earn them back tonight she teased. Dan imagined kneeling, naked, his head deep between her thighs while she watched TV. Having to lick his wife's pussy and beg for his keys while she hopped channels and ignored him. A damp spot of desire soaked through his y-fronts.

But Dan was on an express train direct to total suburban slavery, not to the play slavery he fantasised about. By midnight Dan would be stripped of his dignity both in his home and in his job. He would have no hiding place. His livelihood would hang by a thread, and that thread would be totally controlled by his owner. Getting back his keys would be the last thing on his mind.

While to the casual observer Dan would still be Mister Average, with a nice middle class home, a supportive wife and a steady job in a small dormitory town. In reality, he would have nothing, be nothing and could do nothing, except as directed by his wife/owner and her agents.

Yes, it will be slavery Dan, but not as you know it.