Author's note: I regret spelling and grammar errors in both this chapter and previous as I write these on my phone for my own reasons.
All participants are over 18, and there are elements of mind control which suggests non-consent. Fair warning has been given.
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My body ached, almost at the point of shaking and it wasn't long before I would be, as I was kneeling on the floor. My wrists were cuffed together behind me and attached by a very short chain to the floor forcing my arms back and my body to have to be in its kneeling position. My neck was encased in the collar I had woken up in, and the O-rings on it were now playing host to different chains. One chain was leading down my back connecting the collar to the chains and cuffs restricting my wrists. This worked to keep my head up so it couldn't drop down and keeping my back straight. Two other much thinner chains lead down from the collar to connect to nipple clamps currently clasping my nipples making them feel slightly tortured and throbbing after the amount of time they had been on and I had been forced to stay in this position.
Master had left me like this for the past two hours, something I knew only because there was a clock on the wall in front of me- time else wise had slipped into having no meaning. As he set me in the position, I had voiced my own doubt of my ability to do it - the ability to withstand it. My presumption of speaking out of turn had earned me a ball-gag stuffed in my mouth and Master explaining that it had nothing to do with what I thought I could or couldn't do but everything to do with what he wanted. That from that point onward all that would ever matter is what my owner wanted, even if it meant harm to myself. If I was lucky my Masters, either himself or any he chose to sell me to if he opted to sell me, would care to not damage their own property too badly... But that everyone treated their own things differently.
Slaves, I was informed, were no different in worth from tables or chairs. Objects. Objects that could carry out certain jobs, sexual or otherwise, but objects all the same. My mind wanted to rebel against the idea. Struggled to argue... But his voice was so soft, so consistent, so easy to melt my entire body into. Every time I thought too hard about trying to rebel, to declare my independence, to just think in and of itself... My mind started to unravel.
I knew about BDSM relationships of course; about people submitting willingly to another, the discussion of limits, the agreements in place, the fact that the submissives could call out a safe word or just end the relationship. The difference between a healthy or toxic BDSM relationship and checking if something was SSC/RACK. I knew of predators, and I knew of "the good ones". The stories I had read appealed a good deal from their being fantasy. The difference between the fantasy and the reality being stark.
But knowing all this, knowing the situation I was in and what my Master was telling me was not safe, not RACK, but the traditional, hundreds of years old slavery... The barbaric slavery, the slavery one read of in history books with a modern kinky twist... I couldn't bring myself to fight it more. I could feel the slick wetness of my cunt as I recognised my arousal at what he said, the torture of being made to wait there because it was his whim. The slight tingle of fear running up my spine that he was never coming back and would forget I was there.
It crashed upon my mind, again and again...
And then he was there. At least, I was pretty sure it was Master. Standing behind me where I couldn't see but close enough I could feel the strong presence.
I shivered.
And then I felt something new. Something I had both anticipated and feared.
The light gliding, almost caressing, a touch of a well made a leather crop, the folded over slightly wider pad of leather on the end being used to stroke softly following down the curve of my spine and brushing right next to where the thicker chain was.
The man, I was sure it was Master, continued from the base of my neck to just above where my ass began, then went back up and began down again only a few centimetres over. Goosebumps broke out along every square inch of my flesh as he gently coaxed my body to become alive with awareness, the stroking of the crop moving slowly over every centimetre of my back. Then he began the same stroking movements along my right arm, and then my left arm.
It was like he was carefully and invisibly marking my entire body with his crop, learning every single curve and plane.
I was visibly and audibly shaking now, the chains rattling from the constant if subtle movement which caused the crop wielding tormentor to chuckle.
It was Master. The sound went straight to my middle and turned everything there liquid.
