I carefully descended the stone steps to the cellar, I unlocked the heavy oak dungeon door with a heavy heart and paused to admire her one last time, she knew something was wrong immediately, I suppose it was intuition.
She peered through the bars of her metal cage, a five foot cube with inch and a quarter bars at three inch spacing, she was naked apart from her collar, and she looked at me from a squatting position, holding her pussy open as I taught her, a quizzical look on her little face making lines appear prematurely across her forehead, while her nipples remained soft and unexcited.
"What's wrong Master?" she asked, risking an additional ten swats with the whip.
"You're not supposed to speak without being asked a question," I reminded her, "Come on out we need to talk."
"But Master the door is locked!" she reminded me.
"And you have a key," I told her, "I'm not entirely stupid."
"Yes Master." she agreed and she pulled her key from under her blanket and turned it in the lock on her cage door, and then she squatted down again but she still peered at me when she should have looked at the floor, while she slipped her fingers inside herself and slowly masturbated ready for me to throw open the cage and manhandle her to the edge of the step and ram the full length of my manhood straight into her moist softness as I loved to do every evening after work.
The barred door creaked open, I remembered collecting it from the blacksmiths was it five years ago, when I first took the house, when my first bonus cheque from my first job trading futures at the bank paid for my first slave, Fuck-slut, and I had to fix up the basement myself, cementing the bars in, and the door and fixing up the special flushing hole in the floor like Middle Eastern people use.
I found when you're earning good money you can't get a woman to love you, you as a person, they just see a wallet, a credit card, a big house, so after a string of lying cheating so called girl-friends Firman, from Human Resources suggested I use an exclusive brothel which had an arrangement with the bank and then after a while when my preferences became known it was suggested I purchase my own sex slave and I was invited to my first auction.
A warehouse near Slough, railway arches near Kings Cross, an office complex near Canary Wharf, even a disused factory unit near Hatfield, the venues for the auctions were as varied as the format was the same, a stage, a circulating area and backstage holding areas and of course an auctioneer, I became part of that scene for a while, trading, changing girls every few weeks until I found my Kitten.
With hindsight Fuck-slut, my first fuck slut that is, needed psychiatric help, she thrived on beatings, loved me to call her bitch or slut and the more violent our sex the more she liked it. I sold her on, at a profit, she was too much for me, and I, too mild for her.
Then there was Caroline, Fuck-slut two or Cunt as I called her, she was quite ugly really, dark and ugly, not plain like number one but ugly, slightly dark skinned but dark hair, head, pubes, under arms, real dark but she seemed perfect at the time and when John D'arcy led her out on stage my heart skipped a beat, she was so compliant, obeying his every command no matter how softly spoken, from displaying her remarkable gymnastic ability before squatting and holding herself wide open as a finale that I just dived right in with a ridiculous offer even before the auctioneer asked for bids, John was delighted even though no one topped it and that started a fortnight of convoluted love making which threatened to destroy my back and then when I tired of her there was Anna.
I think Anna came from Pakistan originally, slightly dark skinned, unbroken, surly a challenge, I'm sure she had no papers, I didn't lock her cage or the doors in case she had been abducted and wished to escape but she stayed with me for a while until I swapped her for Georgia, gloriously voluptuous Georgia who loved me to whip her nipples but she was too much for me, built for comfort not speed, she needed the pampering I lacked the time for and then there was Dana, from Poland, blonde, natural blonde, and, well several more until Kitten came along.
It wasn't love at first sight, my first thought was horror as she was dragged naked and unwilling onto the stage, "This is Katie, Ladies and Gentlemen, Katie has signed form C in respect of a debt of several thousand pounds." Form C voluntary slavery agreement, an agreement which was generally anything but voluntary, usually a young girl in hock to a loan shark and was usually bought by a brothel.
She looked rough, her back and breasts criss crossed with the red marks of repeated beatings, her spiky blonde hair dyed red in blotches, and the piercings through eyebrow and nose, nipples and clit looked more like a cry for help than a fashion accessory, she looked just like she had been dragged in off the street.
"Do I hear three thousand?" Steve our auctioneer asked. There were barely a dozen of us in the warehouse, our breath was condensing in the cold air as she stood before a mean three bar electric fire.
"Five hundred," I offered.
"Oi Jefferson, you're taking the mickey!" her minder an East-ender named Harrison announced.
"This is a no reserve auction," Steve explained, "I have a bid of five hundred." he said, "Any advance?" She glared at me as she squatted there and held herself open and glared so nastily that no one bid for her, "Sold to S 120." he announced, it took a second to register that she was mine.
Transport costs soon bumped that up to the two thousand Harrison insisted she owed him and he delivered her gagged, leashed and bound at three that morning, a sad angry humiliated little fuck-slut bound and ready for anything.
I used to drag her out by her collar and whip her according to how naughty she had been and then when her blonde hair grew long enough I would use that to drag her out instead, but somehow I started simply raping her without whipping her, I suppose it saved time, simply fucking her hard, and then when I had cum I would have her lick her juices and my cum from my manhood and when she had finished I would be nice and hard in time for a nice slow fuck.
She purred like a kitten when she was enjoying herself, and bit by bit I stopped calling her a bitch because that seemed too canine for such a feline creature and Fuck-slut seemed too crude, and called her "Kitten," because really she was very beautiful, not when she first came because she was wild and largely untamed, but since I got her the wide screen TV and the music system for her spacious soundproofed dungeon she had lost that scrunched up look and she really did look like she belonged on the cover of a decent porno mag.
I peered at her, she had been showering upstairs again, I could tell, and her hair didn't style itself to look that good.
"We need to talk." I announced, as I stared at her critically, she really did have a gorgeous body, really firm breasts, not too big, or hard, but firm yet soft and yielding.
"You're tense Master, please use me then we can talk." she replied confidently, as she followed my every movement with her deep blue eyes.
"No, it wouldn't be fair." I replied.
"Master," she said, "Please, I have needs too." I looked at her as she sat back ready to lie on her back.
"No, Kitten this is serious, sit up properly and listen, I'm in big trouble," I told her, and I waited while she moved to the doorway and sat on the step, "I don't know if you heard but the trading arm of the bank job ceased trading last month which meant my job has effectively disappeared , I'm just tidying up loose ends, I've done the sums and I've had an offer on this house which I shall accept, because without the job I can't afford to run the house and pay the mortgage, which leaves you."
"Take down you trousers Master, you'll feel better after." she suggested.
"Who said you could speak?" I asked, "I'll damn well thrash you if you speak again."
"Yes Master, it will do you good to take your frustrations out on me Master." she agreed.
"No, I wouldn't be fair," I suggested, and indeed it was despair not frustration that I felt.
"Perhaps I could be permitted to suck while you talk Master?" she offered.
"No, you need to listen carefully." I explained, "What do we do with you?"
She looked at me expectantly.
"What would you like to do?" I asked, "I could get a very good price for you at auction but," I paused, "That's because you are unmarked,"
"Yes Master," she agreed.
"But you are very naughty aren't you?" I challenged, "Mrs Harris gave you the keys for emergencies like fires, not so you could sneak out and use my shower instead of washing in the bucket of cold water I provide."
Mrs Harris was my housekeeper, confidante, a sort of surrogate mother figure, she got my meals, made the beds, everything except shared my bed, but she had her husband Tom for that.
"Yes Master." she agreed.
"Or use the Gym at the Leisure centre." I suggested, "Hair at Pauline's, coffee at Starbucks, I'm surprised you haven't got your own car." Her jaw dropped in utter amazement.
"There's nowhere to park." she said.
"Because you passed your driving test in May I believe." I challenged.
"Yes Master." she agreed, "I had lessons, how long have you known?"
"Months," I replied, "But you keep coming home?" I queried, "Why?"
She just blushed and looked away."I wait until Mrs Harris goes in the morning and get back before she starts dinner," she explained.
