Caught!

It had been a long day on the road. I'd already blown two tires, taking way more time then I wanted to repair them, and here I was with some idiot throwing glass bottles out of their car. Needless to say, I ended up getting another flat tire, but I had no extra tube as I'd used both my spares already.

"You fucking idiot," I screamed at the driver.

As the brakes came on I realized I may have made a serious mistake.

Thankfully, the driver of the van was woman. When she realized what she had done she apologized and offered to take me to get my bike fixed. As I put the bike in the back of the van that is when I realized she was not alone.

I was sprayed in the face with some type of gas and that is the last thing that I remember of that day.

Time passed. How long I did not know. When I awoke I realized I could not see, feel, hear or smell anything around me.

I wondered where I was. Had I died?

Suddenly, my sight was restored somewhat. It was like watching a movie or a play happen right in front of me.

Sound too came back.

Somehow, as weird as what was being said was being said I seemed to begin to understand and accept it. The funny part was it was running by me at a speed that my conscious mind could not understand.

Slowly, but surely, feeling returned to me. A warmth like the sun on the beach in Jamaica warmed me, but not only from the outside but from the inside too.

Smell returned. Smells that did nothing but arouse me. There were no bad smells, but rather smells that inflamed my loins. I could feel myself growing as the scents surrounded me.

When finally all my senses had returned I was released, though it did not seem like I had been bound in the first place to me.

A woman appears in front of me. She says not a word but merely points to the ground.

It is at this point that I lower myself to the ground on bended knees, place my forehead down on the ground, close my eyes and stick my hands out in front of me palms up and open.

What made me do it? I don't know. It just seemed natural to me.

This woman in front of me, whom I only got a glimpse of, I will never forget. She seemed an Amazon with long, flowing, coal black tresses not to mention she towered over my 6' by at least several inches. Her eyes blazed into mine like the fire of a thousand suns. They were jade green and seemed to, simultaneously, exude both coldness and passion. Her breasts were as if they had been formed by an overly generous sculptor and breathed life into by a god. She wore little, but it covered enough for modesty's sake, but provoked thoughts of her availability at the same time.

I awaited something while I was in this rather available position, though I am not sure I knew myself what it was I awaited.

When this divine Goddess spoke to me her voice was as clear as the Antarctic sky and as sensual as a silken dream.

"You will always be naked in front of your owners from now on slut," she intoned.

"You will always be available to them whenever and wherever they wish you to be," she continued.

"You no longer have any name other than the ones your owners choose to give to you. If all else fails, you will simply be called 'slut'."

All of this seemed so natural to me. How could it possibly be wrong when it felt so right?

"As you command Goddess," I replied.

"There are further rules you must know slave," she continued. "Do not speak unless you are first spoken to. Your body does not belong to you anymore, so do not touch it without being given permission first. You are to be sexually ready and available at all times. Restrictive clothing, clothing that doesn't allow total, easy access at all times will never be worn by you on those rare occasions when you are allowed to wear clothes at all. Simply put, you are owned property with no rights or privileges other than what your owners choose to give to you slut," she said.

"Oh....." she said.

My ears perked up, even if my head could not move. It was as if the only movements my body would allow are those I was told to make.

"One last thing, and if you don't like it---TOUGH. Sluts are always bisexual. So if you don't like making it with men as well as women I suggest you start getting used to the idea whore." And with that statement she left me in this position I had no idea how long I could hold.

Naked, holding this position, seemed to have several effects on me: 1) I was hornier then hell and my cock was clear evidence of this 2) My muscles were aching, but also, somehow it seemed to me, becoming more defined the longer I held the position and 3)I lost all sense of time. It was as if time simply ceased to move except when there was someone other than me in the room.

Eventually, others showed up. I only know that there were many of both sexes, but since I could not see them I had to picture them and their movements in my mind only.

Suddenly, a sharp crack went across my naked asscheeks. I felt more then saw the line of the crop forming across my ass.

I was violently repositioned and told not to move or the punishment would be worse. What I did that required punishment I do not know. Maybe I just needed punishing period. Maybe that is what a slut is there for. Maybe I didn't care. I simply was. No more, no less.

So there I was, my position the same as I began, except that my whorish ass was now fully exposed for anyone to spank, flog, fuck, lick, suck or whatever else turned their fancy.

It seemed like I was back in ancient times---a newly taken conquest turned into a slave for the amusement of the winners of the battle. I could almost hear that I would never ever be a free man again echoing in the air, though not a word was said to me in however long.

My ass was spanked, then fondled. It was fucked, then fucked some more. The holes that I now am were all violated repeatedly. At times I had both real and fake cocks in my mouth and ass while an unseen person placed my cock in bondage so I could not come without permission.

As time passed I came to realize that while it may seem like rape to me, or it did, I really don't know what to think, to them it was just the natural order of things: the strong use the weak however they wish.

Over time, though it ceased to have any meaning to me, I came to realize that my owners knew me better than I knew myself. They saw the submissive, slutty, whorish side of me and simply used it. The funny thing is they saw what I never knew I had or was.

Some times I would be bound. Other times I would be free to move about. Still, either way, I was theirs without reservation, without restriction, without self. I ceased to be. All I was was contained in the names that they called me and how they used me.