Slave Zoe's Folsom Weeend

Chapter 1: Landing

I turned on my iPad as the plane touched down. Immediately, Discord dinged with a notification. "Slave: proceed to United baggage check 3 then await further instructions. Acknowledge as soon as you receive this and when you arrive."

I quickly replied, "Yes, Master." I sat quietly as I waited for my fellow passengers to get their bags and de-plane. Slaves aren't entitled to luggage, so I only had the iPad for communicating with my Master. I didn't even have a bag, so my ID and my boarding pass hung from a lanyard around my neck. They sat above my day collar, a symbol of the connection between my Master and myself.

I felt myself growing even wetter. I would not have guessed that was possible, since Master did not permit me to amuse myself during my final flight. "When you get to the gate, turn off the iPad and spend the rest of your trip fantasizing about the weekend to come. Don't read the in-flight magazine, don't talk to your neighbor, don't even accept the pretzels from the flight attendant, just close your eyes and visualize what we're going to do." It was difficult and my mind definitely strayed to other topics, but I spent the flight turned on and yearning for the real fun to start.

In baggage claim, I sent a text back, "This slave is here, Master."

The answer came quickly. "Good slut." Though I felt an urge to look around for him, I kept my head bowed-if he wanted me to see him, he would have shown himself or given me orders. "Look for a light blue bag on the luggage carousel with my name on it. Pick it up, take it with you into the companion restroom just to the right, lock the door, and text me when you are ready for further instructions."

I did. His next orders were, "Take off all of your clothes and put them in the bag." I stripped. It only took a moment because I was permitted only a dress, a lace thong, and an old bra with a broken wire. I felt lucky to be allowed the underwear. I also took off the lanyard. I did keep wearing the day collar, partly because it would never occur to me to remove it and partly because its clasp is a lock to which I am not permitted a key.

With my clothes off, the bathroom smelled plainly of cunt. "Done, Master."

"Lock the bag shut." I was confused for a moment because I did not have a lock. Then I saw a small luggage lock twisty-tied to one end of the zipper. It was open, so I pulled it out of the twisty-tie, closed the zipper, and closed the lock through the loops. I was so happy to get the instructions right without asking questions, so it was only afterward I realized I was now naked without access to any clothes. I wondered how Master would get me out of this. (Or would he? He knew I loved humiliation.)

"Open the side pocket and put on what you find there." Maybe the side pocket has clothing? It was small and lumpy, though. I opened it and drew out a black leather collar. It was familiar, with a softness and patina that come with long wear, and a shine that comes from repeated polishing. I clasped the collar around my neck in a practiced motion and snapped the provided lock closed in the back. I did not have a key, so I was now even more committed: not just naked, but wearing a leather collar with a tag that says "SLAVE ZOE" on it.

"Also done, Master."

"Put on the trench coat." Again I was confused, but I looked around. From a hook behind the door hung a high-necked light black coat. Master must have been here recently. I put it on and looked at myself in the mirror. It suited me, and it covered the collar. It went far enough down my legs that I wasn't obviously naked underneath, at least while standing up straight.

It took Master a few moments to type out the last instructions. "I will give you your last few orders all together. Zip the iPad into the bag's side pocket, then put on everything in the coat pockets, and then come out of the restroom with the bag. Acknowledge my orders and then go ahead with them."

I sent back, "Yes, Master," and I put the iPad away. Again, I had to guess at his meaning. That was surely intentional, since he plans very carefully and gives very specific orders when he knows they are needed. Most likely, either I could figure it out easily or he was setting me up to fail so he could punish me later for my stupidity. I would be happy either way. I fumbled in the pockets of the trench coat. My right hand turned up a scrap of fabric. This was a gag. I stuffed it into my mouth and felt it moisten slowly. As a gag, it was only a symbol, meant to remind me that I was not allowed to speak and to provide a small additional amount of humiliation.

My left hand touched a small object and I pulled it out. It was a contact lens case. Through the translucent plastic, I saw two opaque black lenses floating in solution. I set it on the edge of the sink and unscrewed the caps for the individual lens compartments. I washed my hands and dried them with paper towels, then I popped the lenses into my eyes one by one. After I put in the first one, the world was half dark. The second one made me blind. I could tell where the light is in the room, but I couldn't see any objects. It was like having my eyes closed even though they were open. I blinked a few times to seat them properly. I dropped the case back into its pocket, then I continued searching the other pockets.

In the last pocket, I found a hard object. It was heavy for its size and felt cold and had a flared base, clearly a small metal buttplug even though I could not see it. Maybe it would have been easier to insert before I'd put in the contacts, but I wouldn't have been able to see my own asshole anyway, obviously. I leaned slightly against the sink, reached under the jacket and behind myself, and inserted it. It was really small, obviously just another symbol of Master's control.

I stood up, feeling the plug move slightly, grabbed the bag, and exited the restroom, managing to find the door handle after only two tries. I was amazingly wet and I hoped that my cunt was not actually dripping.

I stood and waited just outside the restroom. It was a pretty long wait. I didn't know what to do now. My orders did not cover this part. Had it been ten minutes? Fifteen? It was longer than I expected, since he must have been nearby recently to plant the bag and the coat. I worried that I might have to decide for myself what to do next. My Master makes my choices for me and it is so comforting not having to make them for myself. I just follow orders and Master takes care of me. Master is very reliable, but still I started to worry. The idea of being naked and blind, alone without my Master, in San Francisco Airport with my ID and clothes in a locked bag that I couldn't open, and having to get out of it by myself, was humiliating and terrifying and it made me even wetter.

My wait continued. It was late and I was tired and jet-lagged. I wanted to sit down but I did not know whether sitting would expose my cunt, so I just leaned against the wall. I clutched at the locked bag as something to hold onto and ground myself. Well, I tried to clutch at it, but my fingers passed through empty air.

I panicked. I wildly spun around trying to find the bag. It wasn't there, it wasn't anywhere. In my panic, I stumbled against the wall and I could tell that I came close to running into someone passing by. I came close to screaming but the fabric in my mouth reminded me to be silent. I flailed around me.

Someone grabbed me from behind by my shoulders. Someone tall. Arms reached around me and firmly pulled me close. I could feel that the person was male, and aroused. I drew my breath and smelled his scent. It was my Master. My panic immediately relented and I relaxed and leaned back against him, growing almost limp. I pressed my lips to his arm and nuzzled him affectionately. He squeezed me back, and then a moment later he pressed the handle for my bag back into my hand, took my other wrist in his hand, and led me away.

Chapter 2: Rules

Master pulled me across baggage claim, and I pulled my bag behind me. I feel a rush of air as we passed outside through an automatic door. It was late at night and I could tell even through the blackout contacts that it was dark and that streetlights lined the arrivals area and the median that Master pulled me across. I heard traffic noises. A car honked close to me and I startled. Master squeezed my hand in reassurance.

We passed into a building. It must have been the parking garage. We walked for a minute and went up a few flights of stairs, and then he stopped me. A light flared momentarily-he must be unlocking his car-and then I heard and felt him open the door. He took the bag from me and put it into the car, and then I felt him unbuttoning and unbelting my coat. He pulled it off my shoulders and I pulled my arms out obediently. Master tossed the coat into the car after my bag. I was naked in the airport parking garage. If anything, my day collar and my leather collar and the buttplug aggravated rather than mitigated my nakedness. I wondered whether anyone could see me.

Master pushed me toward the open door. "In," he said, not unkindly, and I felt reassured. I had been worried that his silence meant he was upset at me. I climbed in across the seat, which was lowered. He guided me into the rear of the car, the cargo area, and popped the back seat up again. Master closed the door. I heard him walking around the car and getting into the driver's seat.

After he sat, Master said, "There's a bag of stuff back there. Put it all on." I fumbled around and found two sets of leather cuffs, which I buckled on my wrists and ankles, and a ring gag, which I buckled into my mouth after spitting out the sodden cloth scrap. I could feel other things in the bag but none that had an obvious way to be put on.

"Now zip-tie all your cuffs together." I found the zip-ties at the bottom of the bag. I zipped my ankles together, then my wrists, then ankles to wrists. Now I was laying gracelessly on my side effectively trussed. I could escape by unbuckling the cuffs, but I'd still be naked.

"Find the blanket back there and cover yourself." I wriggled until I was mostly covered.

Master started the car and drove through the parking garage. I rolled around as he took the corners. I suspect he was taking them harder than necessary. I wondered how visible I was through the car's windows. He had had a car break-in a few weeks ago. I wondered whether, if he parked somewhere, someone would try to kidnap me? Or maybe they would just use me and go?

While I daydreamed, Master had paid for parking and left the airport. He sped up as the car pulled onto 280. On the freeway, he swerved side to side and I rolled around further in the cargo area, not able to brace myself since all of my limbs were zip-tied together. Yes, he was definitely driving hard for my benefit. It was fantastic.

After some time, we exited the freeway, bumped across a driveway, slowed, and stopped. Master said, "Keep quiet and still, slut." He got out of the car. Listening carefully, I figured out that we were in a gas station. Master finished fueling and got back into the car and drove back off.

Only a minute later, Master pulled into another driveway and slowed and stopped again. This time, he got into the back seat and lowered the other half of it and pulled the blanket off me. I felt cold metal briefly touch my wrists, then I heard a few snipping sounds and my wrists and ankles fell away from each other as the scissors cut away the zip ties. The scrap of fabric was stuffed back in my mouth, then the ring gag was removed. I stretched and rubbed my arms.

"Get out of the car and put on the coat," Master said. I climbed across the lowered seat into the garage. I shivered naked in the cold and I gratefully took the coat, which he handed to me in a wad. It took me a minute to figure out how to orient it and I put it on. Master then took my hands and had me grab my opposite wrists behind my back. It wasn't easy since I don't bend that way particularly well. He then zip-tied the cuffs together. I assumed that the coat's long sleeves meant it wasn't obvious I was handcuffed.

Master then stuck a finger into the D-ring of my day collar-probably the high collar of the coat mostly hid this?-and dragged me through the apartment complex and up a flight of stairs. It was difficult not to stumble with my hands locked behind my back. He unlocked the door, pushed me through and followed, and then bolted the door again from the inside.

Without pause, Master pushed me up against the wall. His hand was on my throat, not squeezing but threatening, just the way I like it (I think of it as "promising"). He paused and I listened to his breathing for a few moments. I imagined the tableau of the two of us posed together in our drama, me against the wall, my head and neck leaning hard on the plaster and my waist and hips pushed forward by my arms behind me, Master leaning forward with one leg pressing much of his weight into my crotch, his right hand on my throat and the elbow brushing my left breast through the coat (I was sure this was not an accident), his left hand pushing my shoulder into the wall almost painfully. I was dripping, I was sure, and there was going to be a stain on the inside of the coat and maybe it would soak through.

The tableau broke as Master shifted his hands to undo the buttons and the belt. He dropped the coat as much as he could, leaving it hanging from my bound wrists. I felt the air moving across all of the front of my body. I shivered involuntarily from the cold of the plaster on my back.

Master put his hand back on my throat and started what sounded like a prepared speech. "Slave, we have less than 48 hours together this weekend and I am going to make the most of them for us. I have new and strict rules for you, Zoe, and I am going to enforce them. I am going to make use of the punishments we have agreed on, and maybe some new ones, if it becomes necessary."

I was paying attention. This was a wonderful speech so far, everything I'd hoped for. I wondered whether he was reading from notes, which would certainly be like him, especially since I couldn't tell for sure. "Listen carefully. I am going to tell you the new rules once. They are non-negotiable. Whether you understand them or not, they apply to you just the same. And if you understand that, nod your head." I nodded.

"Rule number one: you may speak only to me, only when I ask you a direct question, only if you are not gagged, and only if the answer to the question is not yes or no. To answer yes or no questions, from me or others, nod or shake your head instead of speaking. When you do speak, begin or end every utterance with 'Master'. And if you must refer to yourself at all, refer to yourself in the third person, as 'this slave' or 'this slut'. For example: 'Master, may this slut...'. Do you understand? Just this once, I want you to speak instead of nodding." As he said the last part, he used one hand to open my mouth and the other to pluck out the cloth.

"Yes Master, this slut understands," I said. Master stuck the cloth back in my mouth.

Master continued, "Rule number two: you may not make any independent choices of any kind. You will eat and drink only when and where and what I tell you, you will only use the bathroom when I give you permission, you will do what I say and go where I tell you, you will only use a phone or tablet or computer if and when and for what I permit. You may not even stand up or sit down without orders. You are entirely under my control and subject to my whim." I was nodding along as he spoke.

"Rule three," Master said, "I will tell you who to play with and how and when. You do not have the right to consent, I will consent for you. If anyone asks for your consent, you will tell them that you have turned over your consent to me. Your cunt is my cunt, your boobs are my boobs, your ass is my ass, and I will not ask you permission, I will order you to submit to whatever I deem proper. You are going to be beaten and fucked and not all of it by me."

"Rule four: As my slave, you represent me and your deportment reflects back on me. I expect only the best from you in your dealings with me and others."

This was evidently the final rule, because Master let go of me and stepped back. I imagined his eyes resting on me. "Do you understand?" he said. I nodded up and down emphatically.

"Good slut," Master said. He came back close to me, pulled me forward by my collar, spun me around with my shoulders, and with a snip my hands came apart and the coat fell to the floor. "Down!" he said, pulling down on the collar ring for emphasis. I dropped to all fours. He snapped something to the collar and I quickly found it to be a leash as he used it to pull me, crawling, through his apartment.

Chapter 3: Bedroom

I had crawled through Master's apartment many times and I knew it well. I remembered where the obstacles were and managed to avoid banging against any furniture. I think he'd moved one of the bicycles, though, since I could feel my shoulder brush a tire on the way to the bedroom, which was clearly where we were going.

At the door, Master said, "Stop." I heard him fumble briefly with something. Metal clinked against metal and something moved through the air. "In," Master said, and pulled the leash forward. He poked my ass with his toe for a little more emphasis. I crawled forward obediently. My sides bumped against metal wires as I moved, my knees brushed more wires, and before my legs cleared the wires my head also bumped into a wire mesh directly in front of me. I curled around a bit and fit myself into what was clearly a metal cage. Behind me, Master closed and latched the cage door and I heard the sound of a zip tie. I was locked in.

"Stay," Master said bemusedly. As if I had another choice. Master always tells me to "stay" when I'm stuck in place anyway. I heard him walk out of the room. A door closed and I was alone for the moment. I found that my cage was made of thick wires in a wide mesh. I didn't think it was tall enough to sit up. Near my head, my fingers found an angled metal tube poking into the cage. The end of it was wet and as I touched it a drop came away on my fingers. I followed the tube and it led up to a plastic bottle. I realized that it was a water bottle for me to suck on while I was in the cage. On the other side of my head, I found a ceramic dish full of soft pellets. It was probably the dog bowl I'd bought for Master myself long ago. I'm not into puppy play but forcing me to eat from a dog bowl is perfect humiliation. I picked up one of them and sniffed it. It was some kind of dry food, but I couldn't tell what kind. I didn't know whether Master was teasing me with dog food or if it was something else. I put it back. I wasn't hungry anyway.

Master came back. "I hope you like the cage, because you're sleeping there this weekend," he said. "But for now, get out." He cut the zip tie and opened the cage door. I crawled out (backward, because it was difficult to turn around). As my head cleared the door, he pulled upward on my leash, and I stood.

Master grasped my left leg and tugged upward. I took the hint and lifted my leg, teetering slightly off-balance. I felt Master passing some kind of rubber ring over my foot and then raising it above the ankle and knee. He tapped my foot with one hand to indicate that I could stand on it again, and then raised the ring higher. It fit snugly around my mid thigh, then he stretched it a bit more and pulled it a few inches higher. He released it and tension held it in place. Then he repeated the process with a second ring on my other leg. I wondered what they were for.

"It's time for your first beating and your first fucking of the weekend, slut," said my Master. I melted inside a little. This was what I really had come for, the kind of personal attention that made it worthwhile to fly from one coast to another cramped in a middle seat in what might as well be called slave class. These days, everyone lacks focus as they are being pulled in a dozen directions by their phone notifications. Undivided attention is what BDSM is all about: dungeons all prohibit mobile phones, saying that it's for safety reasons, but I think that an even better reason is to force all the kinksters to pay attention to each other rather than their devices.