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PROLOGUE
I called her before I left the office on Friday afternoon.
"Hello," she answered
"Hello, slut."
"Oh, Master, I'm so glad you called. How are you? When do you think you'll get here?"
"I'm fine. I'll be leaving in just a few minutes. Two hours . . . that'll make itabout 7:15. Are you ready?"
"Yes, Master, I can't wait."
"Good. What are you wearing?"
"Nothing, Master, as you directed."
"Nothing?"
"Just the collar, Master."
"Fix some sandwiches and a salad for dinner, then put on your "uniform" and wait for me in the living room."
"Yes, Master."
"Bye now. See you in a couple hours."
"Bye, Master. I love you."
"I love you too, slut." Click.
We were living apart that summer. She was finishing her degree at the university, and I had gotten a job in another city, about a hundred miles away. We decided that she was to be my slave for the summer. That sounds a little strange, since I was going to be in another city most of the time, but would allow us to keep up the scene for an extended period without the pressure of maintaining our Master and slave roles full time.
The ground rules were pretty straightforward: she could go about her daily business as usual. Her classes, her workouts at the athletic center, getting together with friends, were not to be affected by her slavery. When she got home, though, and full time on weekends, she was under my orders.
She was to always address me as "Master." She was to recognize that she was a nameless slave, and I'd call her whatever I pleased, but never her name.
In our apartment, she was to always wear her collar, a one inch wide black leather dog collar that I had gotten her the previous Christmas, and nothing else. She was so comfortable with nudity, though, that simply having her stay naked didn't seem like a sufficient reminder to her of her slavery. She had always slept nude, and preferred nude beaches and an all-over tan.
We decided that she would also keep her pubic hair shaved. The morning after I had shaved her the first time, she stood drying her hands after washing dishes. She wore only the collar. I asked how it made her feel.
"Naked," she said with a chuckle and tossed her head, her straight red-blonde hair swinging around her shoulders. "And proud. I may be a slave and a slut, but I'm YOUR slut."
The whiteness of the newly shaved triangle was such a contrast to the deep tan elsewhere that her cunt almost seemed to glow. Her private parts were now a much more prominent part of her anatomy; just the effect I had intended.
On the way into town, I stopped at my favorite adult shop to get a surprise for her. They had the new issue of "Naked Bondage" on display so I picked that up, then went back to the toy corner.
They were hanging between the ball gags and a display of vibrators: two alligator clips connected by about eight inches of fine chrome-plated chain. The teeth were covered with plastic, and each clip had a screw to adjust the opening and pressure. We already had one pair of similar clamps, but these were slightly smaller. Exactly what I was looking for.
*
Chapter 1
WELCOME HOME
My stop at the adult shop made me a few minutes late. I unlocked our front door at 7:30. She was kneeling, face to the carpet, about eight feet directly in front of the door. Anyone walking by in the breezeway could have easily seen her through the open door. In front of her spread knees, in a bucket of ice, was a bottle of Korbel champagne and beside it a single champagne glass.
"Up." I said, closing the door behind me and setting down my overnight bag.
She swung her body upright and looked me in the face. Her knees were spread wide apart on the carpet and her cunt positively beamed at me.
"Slut, you just might be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
She had gone far beyond my orders to demonstrate her submission. The "uniform" I had told her to wear was her minimal "slave around the house" restraints: her collar, matching wrist and ankle cuffs, and two twelve inch chromed chains connecting wrist-to-wrist and ankle-to-ankle. She was able to do housework in the uniform, but just barely.
She had started with the uniform, but cuffed her wrists behind her without the separating chain. Her leash was tied around a post that supported the stereo stand and clipped to her collar. She had inserted her favorite gag, a short rubber penis on a black leather strap. And she was wearing our original, larger, set of alligator clips, one on each nipple. The screws were backed all the way out, so she felt the full pressure of the spring-loaded teeth. I knew that with the clips applied like that her nipples soon went from painful to unbearable to numb. She smiled at me, if it's possible to smile around a gag that big.
I untied the leash from the post and said, "You may rise."
She bowed face down again, her hair dragging the floor, then slowly struggled to her feet.
I removed the gag first, reaching behind her to pull the strap through its rings.
"Thank you, Master." She was breathless, almost whispering, with a slight, brittle edge of pain in her voice.
"Do you want me to take off the nipple clamps?"
"If it pleases you, Master." The exact, correct response.
I was overwhelmed. She had always been enthusiastic about our games, but never before had she thrown herself so totally into submission. I had been gone only five days, but in that time, it seemed that she had determined to become the perfect slave.
I quickly squeezed open a clip, releasing her left nipple. "Ssssssss." She sucked air between her teeth, grimaced. The beginning of tears appeared in her eyes. I squeezed the other clip and dropped both in the floor with their chain. "Ssssssss, oooooohhh." The sucking turned into a faint cry as her knees buckled and she slid down my legs to the floor.
"Thank you, Master," she gasped. "I..I..I..I just came." She leaned against my knees and with her lips gently caressed my penis through my pants.
"Will you stop that?"
"It doesn't please you, Master?"
"It pleases me just fine, but I need to get settled in."
"Yes, Master, how may I help you?"
"Get up."
Again, she bowed face down to the floor and struggled shakily to her feet. Grabbing her shoulders, I spun her around and unclipped the wrist cuffs from behind her back.
"Chain your wrists in front, then unpack my bag."
"Yes, Master." As she bent down for my overnight bag, still sitting next to the front door, she positioned herself to make sure I had a clear view of her anus and her shaved cunt from the rear. With tiny, shuffling steps, she took my bag to the bedroom. I swatted her ass lightly with my hand as she passed.
I picked up the champagne in its bucket and the single glass. I crossed the room and sat on our sofa, then for the first time since arriving, looked around the room.
The apartment was small, with a twelve by sixteen living room separated from a minimal kitchen and dining area by a counter. A short hallway led past the bathroom to our bedroom and a second bedroom we used as an office.
She had pulled the coffee table back against the front window by the door in anticipation of our games. She also knew that she would serve as my coffee table for the weekend, holding or retrieving anything I desired.
Just in front of the coffee table, she had laid out every bit of our bondage clothing, toys and devices in neat rows, sorted by type and use. And she had added some household items that she thought might be useful. There were gags, both purchased and homemade. There were straps and harnesses, a black satin corset, a red and black half-bra, several neat coils of rope in various lengths and a brand new package of clothes pins. There were a variety of dildos, vibrators and plugs. There was a set of spreader bars, homemade from dowels and screw eyes; a couple whips, a short leather cat and one of knotted nylon cord, and a pink plastic fly swatter.
She soon shuffled back into the hallway, her hands now connected in front of her by a twelve inch chain.
"Get a saucer from the kitchen, then come here."
"As you wish, Master."
Her movement across the room was slow, almost painfully so, but the sight of her, nude and hobbled, as she attempted to scurry to do my bidding was worth any delay.
"On your way back, turn on the radio."
"Yes, Master."
When she returned, I had her kneel facing me about two feet in front of the sofa. My feet were on the floor between her spread knees.
I opened the bottle of champagne with a loud "pop" and poured myself a glass.
"Hand me the saucer." She bowed face down to the floor and held the saucer over her head in both hands.
I took the saucer from her and filled it with champagne. Handing it back to her I said, "Put it there," and pointed at the floor between my feet.
"No hands," I ordered.
She leaned down and lapped champagne from the saucer like a cat.
"How long did you wait there for me?"
"Since ten till seven, Master." She looked up at me from the saucer.
"So long, slut? You knew I wouldn't be here till at least seven fifteen." She had knelt there, alone in silence, with those clamps on her nipples for almost forty five minutes.
"I didn't want to take the chance that you would get here and I wouldn't be ready."
"Thank you, my slave. I'm impressed by your devotion. How has your week been?"
