Is Fifty Too Old?

Part 1

by Bridget

Story Code: M/f, BD, slave, cons, X

This story is dedicated to Suzi, whose age is unknown to me.

What do you do when you are fifty years old and your husband leaves you for a younger woman? Wallow in self-pity or move on? Shut yourself off or pick yourself up? I will admit there was a period (albeit a short one) when I wouldn't leave the house, but fifty isn't as old today as it was for my mother or grandmother. I still had another thirty years or so and couldn't stay locked up in a house full of memories that long. So I sold the house and bought something much smaller, more like a bungalow but perfect for one as long as there weren't house guests.

Between the divorce settlement and the profit on the house I wasn't going to have to work. If I had had to, the only thing I could have done was housekeeper because that was my only real skill. My almost thirty year old degree in English literature really didn't qualify me for anything else at all.

My next step was to get myself back in shape. Six months later I was still fifty but only ten pounds heavier than my high school weight of 115. The flab was gone and I looked good in a bikini again for the first time in a long time. And I actually enjoyed living alone. It was the first time in my life I had that opportunity. I had gone from home to a college dorm to married wife of a law student. We didn't have kids but that wasn't my fault. When we first tried, and failed, I had been checked out but my husband refused. Later when I talked to him about artificial insemination or adoption, he turned a deaf ear. Too busy with his career was all he ever said about it and that settled the matter.

Late one night I was channel surfing and ran across an HBO series that focused on bondage. I watched, fascinated, as women submitted to their masters' whims. They were kept naked and collared, sometimes caged, and sometimes whipped. While my mind told me that I was repulsed, my body told me something else entirely. I grew wet without any physical stimulation for the first time in many years and soon I was naked on the couch masturbating as I watched.

I started doing research on the internet and pretty soon a whole new world opened up to me. Actually, it wasn't new, jut forgotten. I remembered how I had fantasized when I was younger about being a captive or kept as a slave of some handsome prince or millionaire. But it was only fantasy and I had never considered trying it in real life. Pretty soon I was spending time in D/s chat rooms, at first just listening, then trying to take part. I ignored all of the instant messages I received until I realized after a few months that people kept saying the same tired clichés over and over. So one night when I got the request to chat privately, I agreed.

He asked me about myself and I told him honestly about my life. Then I asked him and he told me his story. I don't know if it was true or not because I never talked with him again. But the ice had been broken.

So a few weeks later I agreed to play on line with someone. All of a sudden his personality did a U-turn and the nice, polite man I was talking with became a monster. So I turned off the computer and went to bed. I tried it a few more times and got really tired of the “On your knees, bitch,” as soon as I agreed (or sometimes even before I agreed) and was about to give up. But I decided to try it once more.

Instead of having me tell him all the ways I was going to screw his brains out or suck him dry, he described a situation where I was being sold as a slave and asked me how I felt about it. We talked about it for awhile and his questions actually showed some insight into my psyche. I was also incredibly turned on by the mental images he created for me. So I agreed to meet him on line again. Then I went to bed and masturbated over and over to the images he had created for me.

The next night was so totally different from what I expected that it really surprised me. Instead of doing D/s things on line, we told each other funny stories. When it was almost time for me to go to bed, he said he really enjoyed the evening chatting. When I asked him why he didn't pick up where he left off the night before, he told me that it was more important to have fun together and he wanted to know if I had a sense of humor. Too many people doing D/s are humorless, he explained, because they subvert that part of their personality because they don't think it fits the D/s lifestyle. From what I had seen in the chat rooms and in the instant messages, I was forced to agree with him.

We continued talking for a few more months. He insisted that I remain naked while we talked, which I did, since we were not using a cam. I was able to get myself off over and over again on the mental pictures he drew of me as a slave.

Sometimes he taught me things he knew, and sometimes we just talked. I learned that he really wasn't interested in a submissive but wanted a slave. The distinction to him was meaningless but since others attributed a level of control to a submissive that a slave did not have he would accept the convention. A submissive can't remain a submissive forever he explained. If someone starts out that way, they either become a slave eventually as the person in charge takes more and more control or they give up the lifestyle. A submissive is someone who hasn't decided what she wants to be when she grows up he said. The other thing I learned about him was that he wasn't interested in role playing in real time. None of the captured school girl crap that people create as scenes. I suppose that went along with his idea that a sub is a slave and a slave is a slave. Why would you role play when the real thing was so much more exciting?

After a couple of more months, I asked him why he never suggested that we meet. He had said he was single and he lived within driving distance so I was curious when he as going to take the next step since we were getting on well. For the umpteenth time, he surprised me. He explained that he never suggested meetings because it would happen or not happen and the decision really wasn't his but mine. I asked how that fit with idea of him being an all controlling dominant and he just laughed. Even if someone agrees to become a slave, she still has the right to leave at any time he told me. Not wanting to spend the rest of his life in jail for kidnapping was high on his list of priorities. The natural extension of that, according to him, was to wait for the woman to decide how far to go. Once she agreed to submit as a slave, all of that changed and he would take control. But the price of satisfaction was patience he concluded.

And that was how we left it for another month. One morning I woke up and made up the Ben Franklin list of pros and cons. He was smart, funny, handsome (we had exchanged pictures), and well off financially. The cons consisted of me not really knowing because our only contact had been on line And that was a huge con. But I decided that since he was waiting on me, I would have to take the next step. Otherwise, one of us would grow bored with on line fantasy and give it up.

So the next night, a Friday, I suggested dinner. He agreed and told me to pick a restaurant I liked. I gave him the name and address of a seafood place I enjoyed, not too formal but great food and good prices. He said he would be there at 7:00 p.m. the next night.

Getting ready for dinner the next night presented a dilemma. Would I wear underwear or go as a slave, with just my dress and shoes? I was afraid a little because this was getting too close to the real thing and I still did not know him. But we had been talking so long on line that I felt it would have been impossible for him to keep up a pretense without slipping up. I looked at my naked body in the mirror for a long time. I couldn't pass the pencil test anymore but my boobs didn't sag that badly. Except for the gray pubic hair, I could have passed for ten or fifteen years younger. So at the last second possible, I slipped the dress over my head and zipped it up without putting anything else on.

As I drove to the restaurant, I felt myself growing wet at the thought of being treated as a slave. It had never occurred to me that my body might betray me in public like that. At the next light, I pulled the dress up so that I wasn't sitting on it. The leather seat against my bare bottom just made matters worse, but at least my dress would not have a spot on it when I walked into the restaurant.

The dinner was wonderful. He was already seated when I walked in and I picked him out immediately from his picture. I walked over and he stood up, giving me a big hug and with a huge smile on his face then he held my chair for me as I sat down. He sat to my left at the small, square table. While we waited for the server, we complimented each other on being better looking than our pictures. Then there was the awkward silence while we tried to figure out what to say next. We both laughed at the same time just as the server came up to take our drink orders. He had a beer and I had a glass of wine. We both started talking at once when he left and laughed again.

We got through the rest of the dinner without any more stumbles and had fun. He stopped after one beer but I had one more glass of wine. When we finished, I asked him if he wanted to come over for a night cap. He looked at me quizzically and I quickly explained that it was just a night cap because I wasn't sure yet if I wanted to go any further. He agreed and followed me home.

When we got there, I led the way in, kicked off my shoes, and turned on the lights. I offered him a seat and asked what he wanted. He said that he still had a long drive home tonight and that coffee would be fine. I went to the kitchen to start it and came back in while it brewed. Sitting down across from him, I asked him if he had had fun tonight.

“It has been a terrific evening,” he answered. “I enjoyed every minute of it. How about you?”

I told him it was a wonderful evening and that it had been a long time since I had spent time with someone in a social situation. Then I thanked him.

“Should I ask the big question?” he asked.

We both knew what the big question was, or at least I thought I did. But once again he fooled me when I told him to go ahead.

“Do you think you can trust me?” he asked.

And somehow I knew that I could. I knelt down in front of him and asked him to make me his slave.

“Stand up and remove your dress.”

I did as he instructed. As I stood there naked with my hands at my sides, I watched him watching me. After a few moments, he got up and walked around me, examining me. When he came all the way around, he sat down once more.

“Very nice,” he began. “The rest of you could pass for thirty-five; your pubic hair doesn't fit. Go shave it off completely while I get some coffee.”

I scurried into the bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. I used a pair of scissors to trim my hair as close as I could, then took a wash cloth and used it to soak the stubble. I wanted to masturbate while I spread the shaving cream on but held back. In a few more minutes I was shaved bare. I carefully dried myself off and went back into the living room. He was in the same seat sipping his coffee. He told me to kneel and I did.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked.

Unbidden, I addressed him as Master. “Master, I am kneeling naked in front of you waiting for your command. If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be in this position.”

“Wait here, slave.”

He stood up and went over to my purse where he took out my keys. Then he went out the front and returned in a minute with a steel collar and some shackles. Standing behind me, he fit the collar around my throat and locked it using a key on his key chain. Then he knelt down and fastened the shackles to each of my ankles. Next he reached around me and pulled my right hand behind me. I felt the steel close and lock around my wrist and when it was secure, he did the same with my left arm. He told me to heel him and I struggled to my feet and followed him a step behind and a step to the left as he went to the front door. The chain connecting my ankles was only twelve inches or so and I struggled to keep up and stay on my feet. I could feel the chain connecting my wrists and ankles rubbing against my bottom and thighs as I walked and the cold steel actually created a pleasant sensation. He opened it and I preceded him out. It wasn't that late, about 9:00 at night, and I amazed myself that I could stand on my front step naked and shackled without worrying. He locked the door and went to the passenger side of his car and opened it for me. He helped me into the little two-seater he drove, fastened the safety belt, and closed the door. Then he went around to the driver's side and got in.

Two hours later, we arrived at his house. Neither of us spoke during the drive. He had the sixties channel on the XM radio and we listened to the music that was popular when we were teenagers, alone with our thoughts. At first, I became wet again and my nipples had shrunk to hard, little pebbles. But after a short while, the discomfort from having my hands bound behind me and sitting on the shackle chain erased any thoughts of pleasure. I squirmed quite a bit until he put his hand on my thigh to quiet me. After that, I just endured the discomfort.

Needless to say, my sex life with my former husband had been somewhat lacking the last several years after he took a lover. As we entered his house, me hobbling behind him, I was looking to make up for lost time. But once again, he surprised me. He led me to the bathroom where I gratefully relieved myself of the two glasses of wine I had with dinner. Because I was still shackled, he watched me then patted me dry when I finished. I blushed from head to toe as he did, from the realization that I could not do the simplest things for myself in my bound condition and from the intimate contact. Then he had me stand while he brushed my teeth. After I rinsed and he dried my face, he told me to heel him again as he led me to one of the guest rooms. The only furniture in the room was a small cage and a post. He had me get down on my knees and back into the cage. Once I was inside, he locked the cage door and turned out the light.

“Good night, slave,” was all he said before shutting the door.

Oh, my God, I thought, what have I done? Alone in the dark, my legs pulled up to my chest because the size of the cage prevented me from stretching out, my hands cuffed behind me, and no one to stop the panic that was setting in. Deep breaths, I kept telling myself, take deep breaths to calm down. Well, you wanted to be a slave, I told myself, how do you like it now? I think I was upset because I expected to screw his brains out and get screwed in the process. But this type of getting screwed was not what I had in mind.

That night was the longest of my life. I couldn't sleep, not just because of the physical situation I was in, but more because of the recriminations. I kept telling myself how stupid I was to let someone do this to me. Then I would correct myself, he didn't do it to me, I did it to myself. And that just made it worse. I wanted to sleep; I tried to sleep, but sleep would not come to me.

Finally, light began to creep in through the window. It took a long time for me to realize that the night was ending because it happened so slowly. But about an hour after I noticed it getting lighter, the door opened and he came in. Without saying a word, he opened the cage door and beckoned for me to crawl out. I had to slide out, the bars forming the floor of the cage rubbing against my bottom. When I was all of the way out, he helped me stand and took me to the bathroom. I went and he patted me dry again before taking me back to the room. He put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me down so I was kneeling in front of him before he took the blindfold from his pocket. He slipped it over my eyes and it was as if the night had returned too soon. Then I heard him unzip his fly and pull his trousers down. I wasn't surprised when the tip of his penis touched my lips.

What would you have done, reader? Naked, still shackled, and blindfolded? In just a few seconds I debated back and forth between bite down hard on his dick or please him. Biting would have surely produced a painful result for me while sucking him might gain me some degree of freedom that I did not now have. Then I opened up and took him in my mouth. At first, he was passive, letting me slide up and down his shaft at my own pace. But after three or four minutes, he took the back of my head in his hands and controlled me while I sucked him. It was probably another four or five minutes until I felt him quiver and then come in my mouth. So it was somewhere between seven and nine minutes with me trying hard to get him off. Nine minutes, oh God, I wanted him inside me so badly.

After he ejaculated, he had me lick him clean and then pulled up his pants and left me kneeling in place. He came back a few minutes later with two bowls, one of water and one with some fruit and broken crackers in it. He put the bowls down on the floor in front of me, removed the blindfold, and told me to eat.

I had to lean over and put my face into the bowls to get at the food and water. It is probably the most humiliating thing I have ever done, eating like an animal from bowls on the floor. He watched me eat the fruit and crackers before I drank what I could of the water. When I finished, I straightened up and he put the blindfold back on me. He lifted me to my feet by holding me under my arms and led me to the pillar. I was facing it while he undid the left wrist. Before he undid the right, he pulled my arm up and locked it in a cuff attached to the pole above my head. Then he did the same thing with the right arm. Last, he knelt down and undid the shackles around my ankles and locked them into cuffs at the base of the pole. I heard him click off the light, close the door, and leave.

So I'm standing there, dead tired because I have not slept in over twenty-four hours, my hands locked in place above my head, blindfolded, and horny. I did the only thing I could think to do, I screamed.

He came back after a couple of more screams. I heard the door open and felt him standing close to me. Then he took my nipple between his thumb and forefinger and twisted it hard. I thought he was trying to rip it off it hurt so much. When I opened my mouth to scream again, he popped a ball gag in and quickly buckled it behind my head.

So okay, the screaming didn't work, but at least I had his attention. But now I was out of options. I tried to brace myself against the pole and get some sleep, but every time I dozed off, I slid down until all my weight was borne by my shoulders. That would wake me up after a few moments. Over and over again, I repeated that cycle.

I must have been at least partly asleep when he came back in again because I did not hear the door open. Suddenly, I felt his hand on my pussy and then he slipped a finger in. He found my clit and was rubbing it and I was responding. I tried to push my hips out to press his hand harder against me and drive his finger deeper. Soon I was having an orgasm, my first as a slave and it was spectacular. I don't know if it was because of my helplessness or because I was so wound up, or maybe it was a combination of both, but the waves ran through my body until I collapsed in my bonds, out of breath and completely devoid of energy. He held me against him and I felt by breasts crushed against his chest as he undid my hands and lowered me my knees. He removed the blindfold and the gag so I could see the two bowls he put on the floor in front of me. At least this time, I was able to use my hands to hold myself up as I leaned over and ate the fruit and crackers and drank the water.

When I finished eating and drinking, he took me to the bathroom and I relieved myself. He wiped my bottom and my pussy and took me back to the post where he had me get down on all fours, shackled my ankles, and put the blindfold back on. He stepped behind me and I felt something cold on my ass and then inside me. He was lubing me so that he could penetrate my anus. When he forced himself inside me, I screamed but he did not seem to mind. He starting pumping in and out and all I could feel was the pain of my ass tearing and being stuffed. But after a few moments, the pain stopped and I felt something else, pleasure. He continued using me but all of a sudden, I didn't mind. I began backing into his thrusts to shove him deeper inside me. After he came, he pulled out and left the room, to clean up, I suppose. He was back in a few minutes and unlocked my ankles but only so he could turn me around so I faced the post. He reached in front of me and told me to open my mouth, which I did, and he put the gag back in. I was quickly locked in place with my hands over my head again, but this time my back was to him. I wondered why until I heard the whip fly through the air behind me.

I screamed into the gag as my back exploded in pain. Oh my God, I thought, no one could stand this. Then I was struck again and slammed into the post as a new layer of pain flooded through me. After the third stroke, I could no longer stand and hung limply as he continued to whip me. I kept screaming into the gag for him to stop, crying and begging but only a few muffled sounds escaped. When he finished whipping me, he left again, closing the door behind him. I don't know how long it was before I was able to stand up and take the weight of my limp body off my shoulders. Still blindfolded, I had no idea what time it was. I knew it was getting late and I was exhausted from being used, the whipping, and the lack of sleep.

It might have been an hour or so later that he came back for me. He unhooked me from the post and I stood there numb as he handcuffed my wrists behind my back and removed the gag. Then it was back into the cage for the night. I was actually able to sleep in the cage, I was so tired.

In the morning, he had to wake me by tapping the bars of the cage. I crawled out wondering what plans he had for me that day. When we got to the bathroom, I saw that he had drawn a tub and after I used the toilet, he had me get in. I sank down into the hot water and let it soothe me. He stood there watching me for several minutes then told me to stand up so he could wash me. His hands were gentle and I enjoyed his touch all over me as he lathered soap all over my body. I was growing wet again as he washed me and he knew it. He had me sit down in the tub again and used a bucket he had brought with him to douse my hair. Then he washed my hair, taking a long, long time and I was in heaven. He ran some clean water from the tap to rinse my head before he had me step out so he could dry me off. As he enfolded me in the big, fluffy towel, I leaned into him and offered my lips for a kiss but he ignored my offer. Before he removed the handcuffs, he shackled my ankles together with cuffs connected by an eighteen inch chain.

After he brushed my teeth for me, he took me to the kitchen and had me kneel next to his chair and fed me from his hand. He had prepared scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. There was enough on the plate for both of us and we took turns, sharing the food. Then he put me to work. He had me clean his entire house from top to bottom. He would check on my work from time to time and if I missed something, he pointed it out to me with a riding crop he carried before using the crop on my bottom or thigh. I finished about one o'clock in the afternoon and he took me to his bedroom. Finally, I thought but I was wrong again. He chained me by the collar to the headboard and told me to take a nap. Then he pulled the cover over me, turned out the light and drew the curtains closed, and left the room.

I was asleep instantly and didn't wake up until he climbed into bed with me. When I felt him get in, I rolled over to him and we kissed, long and deep with our tongues playing tag with each other. Then he rolled me over on my back and began to kiss and lick me all over. I tried to hold on to him and pull him on top of me but after a couple of attempts, he got up and got some rope from a drawer. He used the rope to tie my wrists to the corners of the headboard, got back in bed, and resumed kissing and licking me. As he took a nipple into his mouth he bit down gently on it, driving me wild. Half an hour? An hour? I lost track of the time as he gave my body his complete attention. When I couldn't stand it any more, I begged him to fuck me. He got on top of me and slid easily inside my wet pussy. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and pull him tight against me but couldn't because I was still tied. Then he very slowly began moving in and out of me. I came quickly, thrashing and crying out with pleasure as he gave me the thing I most wanted in the world, but he wasn't ready yet so he kept it up, still sliding deeply into me and then pulling out for several more minutes. I was surprised when I came for a second time and he had his climax right after that.

He left himself inside me until he grew soft and rolled off so he was lying beside me with his arm across my chest. We stayed that way for a long time before he got up, untied my hands, and took me into the shower where we washed each other while we played with each other's bodies. With the hot water streaming down over his, I knelt down and took him in my mouth again, figuring that he was still one behind in the orgasm count. When he came in my mouth, I swallowed, stood up and we kissed holding on to each other tightly.

We finished our shower about seven. After we dried off, he got the shackles that I had worn on the drive and put them on my wrists and ankles but this time my hands were in front of me. I knelt on the floor while he got dressed and he took me out to the garage. He had me lie down on his workbench and plugged in a soldering gun. Then he took a sheet of silicon and put it between my neck and the collar I wore. He turned the collar so the locking mechanism was in front and heated the area around the keyhole before he touched the solder to the opening. The solder melted, filling the keyhole. He had me lie there as the solder hardened and the collar cooled. The collar wasn't coming off anytime soon.

Then he took me out to the car and opened the door for me. I got in and he fastened the safety belt before getting in behind the wheel. I wondered where we were going because I was still naked and it was about a half an hour before I realized he was taking me back to my house.

“Master, may I speak?” I asked.

He nodded that I could.

“Why are you taking me home, Master?”

He pulled over to the side of the road, turned to face me, and handed me a piece of paper.

“You will come back to my house next Saturday. At that time, I will either remove the collar so you can go home or you will stay there as a slave with no possibility of release or freedom. If you want to stay with me, you will use this week to put your things in storage and make arrangements to rent your house with a realtor. You will close out your bank accounts by having the money deposited into the account on that paper. It also has the directions to my home. When you return, if you wish to stay, you will bring nothing with you except your cosmetics because it will be a long time before you get to wear clothes again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master, but I don't need a week to decide.”

“But you will have the week, nonetheless.”

“Yes, Master.”

He had one more surprise for me when we got to my house. After we were inside, he took off the shackles and told me put all of my clothes and underwear into garbage bags. I was to spend the next week with nothing on but my collar. These went into his car, a tight fit because it was a sports car. When I asked him how I was supposed to do all of the things he wanted me to, he said I could make all of the arrangements over the phone and use the computer to fax any documents before mailing them.

When he pulled away, I was sad and confused. How was I supposed to function naked for the next week when all I could think about was getting back to him? How I did it all that week, and some of the humiliation I went through to get it done is a story for another time. The following Saturday, I got in my car at about four in the morning because I wanted to drive while it was still dark. I arrived at his house at about six and he was sitting on the front porch waiting for me. I ran from the car, not caring who saw me and launched myself at him, almost knocking him down as I jumped into his arms and wrapped my legs around him. He carried me into the house as we hugged and kissed. As we crossed the threshold, I realized that I had made the transition from being a free adult to a complete slave.

Is fifty too old? I think not.

End of Part One