by Jennifer Harrison

Part 1

Let’s get something straight right from the start – I had a perfectly normal upbringing, a happy childhood, good schooldays, normal sex life all through university, nothing kinky in my fantasies, other than a fascination for whipped cream being licked off my boobs. Mmmmmmmm…

So, absolutely nothing to lead you to imagine that the events I am about to describe would happen to me. But they did.

A few housekeeping details first. My name is Deborah, which I hate; some people shorten it to Debbie, which I hate even more - it makes me think of ‘Debbie does Dallas’ - so, for want of anything better, I prefer to be called Dee. I'm 5 foot 10, which is quite tall, with long, dark hair, which I often wear in a ponytail. I have quite big boobs, unfortunately matched by quite a big bum, so I exercise regularly (but not obsessively) to try and keep my body in trim. I wear glasses, which was rather a pain at school, leading to some teasing, but I have been told that I have quite an attractive face, with high cheekbones and full, red lips, so I like to occasionally do the trick of taking off my glasses and loosening my hair, playing the sexy secretary look to the full. I usually do this when confronted with a guy that I really fancy - I go for the tall, dark, handsome stranger, the silent type oozing power and control. Maybe that should have given me a clue…

After my degree at University, I got a job in a small start-up company and, to get right down to the point, I developed a huge crush on my boss, and the company owner, Jack. He was in his early 30s, at least 10 years older than me, and he was just perfect. Around about six foot five, well built without an ounce of fat, short black hair, designer stubble… I just melted whenever I saw him!

I was quite intimidated by him for several months, him being my boss as well as so much older than me. But I really was smitten and, eventually, I started to make a play for him. I would try to engage him in casual conversation as much as I could, laughing at his jokes, which wasn't actually difficult as he was quite an amusing guy and, to be perfectly honest, blatantly flirting with him. But, much to my chagrin, he seemed to be immune to my charms.

But I didn't give up and, eventually, got him to ask me out on a date. It felt like a victory to me, but I sensed some reserve on his part, as if I'd bullied him into it (which I had) and he really wasn't sure about me. We went to an expensive restaurant and he insisted on paying. The conversation was lively and interesting, but at the end of the evening he drove me home and made no attempt to give me a good night kiss. To say that I was disappointed would be an understatement.

I wheedled a second date from him, and that went just as well, up until the point where he was dropping me off at my apartment. This time, I took the initiative a little and asked him up for coffee but, to my astonishment, he declined my offer, which clearly included more than just a hot beverage! In desperation, I leaned over to him from my position in the passenger seat and puckered up. I received a perfunctory peck on the lips and a ‘good night’, accompanied by a smile. Rather deflated, I got out of the car and went upstairs. What was wrong with me? Was I so ugly, so utterly unfanciable? Or was it him? Was he gay? Was he married? Was he intimidated by me? I had no answers, only a deep frustration, which I tried to assuage with my trusty vibrator.

On our third date, I decided to confront him.

"Do you not like me, Jack?" I asked in frustration as we sat with our coffee in the restaurant, "I've been sending you signals for months, am I so awful?"

He smiled at me, but I could also see a cloud across his face, as if he was struggling to make a decision. "It's just the opposite, Dee," he replied, "you are a beautiful young woman, and I like you a lot. It's just that… I'm not as nice a guy as you think I am, Dee. If we take our relationship forward, which I would like, you will get hurt. I'm not talking emotionally, and that is not a threat. It's just a fact."

I was confused, what was he saying, that he was violent? I felt a little frightened, but I wanted him so much…

"Talk to me, Jack," I implored, leaning forward and placing my hand on his, "tell me what it is you want from me." He stared at me with an appraising look, as if deciding whether I was worthy of further explanation. As the seconds dragged out I became nervous, withdrawing my hand and sitting back, lowering my eyes to avoid his steely gaze. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke again.

"If you want to go to the next level, I will be your master and you will be my slave." The tone of his voice as he said this seemed much colder, all doubt and uncertainty removed. I was startled by his words, but also intimidated by the way he said it. He took a card from his wallet and wrote on the back before handing it to me.

"That is my home address. If you wish to go further, be there at 11 PM on Friday, don't be early or late. I encourage you to think very carefully about this, Dee, I don't want you to go somewhere you are not comfortable, and I don't want to waste my time. If you decide you do not want to go through with this, we can still be civil to each other at work, and it will of course not affect your job prospects - I certainly don't want to pressure you into anything."

We finished our coffee in silence, and then left. Jack hailed a taxi, saying that it was probably best if I went home alone. He gave me a peck on the cheek and an encouraging smile as I got into the cab and it whisked me away.

To say I was confused would be a massive understatement. He wanted me to be his slave? We'd hardly even kissed! The only reason I didn't dismiss the idea out of hand was that I had come to realise what deep feelings I already had for him. I won't say love - we'd only been on three dates, for Christ's sake! - but I had grown to know him over the months, to respect him as my boss and to like him as a friend. I wanted to see where our relationship could go to, but… Master and slave? It sounded so barbaric, so unloving, so lacking in respect…

I spent my free time over the next few days searching the Internet for everything I could find about Master-slave relationships. I found a lot of scary stuff to do with BDSM, a lot of horrible porn, videos with women being tortured, often against their will, although they always showed the models, very happy at the end, explaining how they had enjoyed everything that had happened to them. But I also found some encouraging words and personal accounts (which rang true) explaining how the true relationship between a Master and his slave was one of mutual trust, love and respect for boundaries. The problem was I had no idea which Jack was offering me.

An unexpected side-effect of my research was a growing fascination for the genres of bondage, domination and sadomasochism. I found myself wondering what it would feel like to be in the situations I was viewing. I found myself frightened, but also strangely excited, by the prospect.

I had still made no decision by Friday morning, and rang in to work sick, feeling far too distracted and nervous to concentrate on my job. I don't know what Jack thought about that when he took my call, but he didn't question me about what was wrong, merely accepting that I was ‘not feeling well’.

I hid under the covers all day, afraid to face the world, afraid to make a decision either way. I suspected that to turn this opportunity down would be to abandon any hope I had of being with Jack, now or in the future. I couldn't contemplate that, but the alternative… could I give myself up to him, do whatever he demanded of me? I felt like I was in an impossible situation, being asked to make an impossible choice.

I only admitted to myself that I had made the decision when I found myself thinking about what I was going to wear. I didn't have any ‘kinky’ outfits, and I don't know if I would have worn such a thing if I did own it, but I felt I ought to look my best. So I put on stockings and suspenders, decent sexy underwear, my little black cocktail dress and a pair of high heels.

At 10:55, I found myself standing outside an impressive house in its own grounds, well away from adjoining properties, and I realised that Jack was pretty well-off, not something that had even really occurred to me before. It also occurred to me that, if I went inside, no one would see or hear me if I wanted to get back out…

I remembered that he had been very particular over the time and, not wanting to make the wrong impression, I stood there, nervously glancing at my watch until exactly 11 PM. Taking my courage in both hands, I rang the doorbell and waited for a response...

"Enter." The word of command was spoken firmly, brooking no disobedience, and I stepped into the hallway beyond the door being held open by Jack. I heard the door close behind me and, as I turned, I saw him turn the key in the lock and place it in his pocket. Was I a prisoner now? I wasn't sure, but it certainly didn't help to reduce my nervousness. I opened my mouth to make some inane comment, something to help break the tension.

"Do not speak. The first rule to learn as a slave - only speak to answer a question addressed directly to you. Do you understand?" Somewhat startled, I nodded my head, not trusting my voice.

"Answer!" The command was barked at me, like a parade ground sergeant major to a recalcitrant private. "Do you understand?"

"Yes… Sir." I don't know why I added the ‘Sir’, maybe I was feeling intimidated, but I saw a flicker of a smile cross his face.

"Better. Come!" He strode past me down the hall and I hurried after him, completely flustered by how this was going, how he was treating me. He led me through another door and we were in what looked like a very large sitting room, with two couches, a number of other chairs, and a large rug in front of a roaring, open fire. Jack stood with his back to the fireplace, which cast the only light in the room, and looked at me as if appraising me, deciding whether I was worth continuing with.

"Strip!" Again, it wasn't a request or the opening of discussion, it was a simple peremptory command. Feeling completely intimidated and unsure of myself, I hesitated, wondering whether he would enforce the command with physical or verbal abuse. Instead, he simply waited for me to obey, not acknowledging that I had any other option. After perhaps a minute of tense silence, it did exactly that.

I reached up behind me and pulled the zip of my dress down, working it all the way to the small of my back. Glancing up at his face for some sign of encouragement but finding it expressionless, I shrugged the garment from my shoulders and eased it over my hips to the floor, where I stepped out of it, placing it on the arm of the chair next to me. I looked up to gauge his reaction, but there was none, not a smile or even a change in his breathing to indicate that he appreciated either my body or my obedience. Under his unblinking gaze, I continued my striptease.

I unfastened the clasp of my bra and it soon rested on the chair beside me with my dress. I felt embarrassed at the size of my breasts now on view, but actually started to blush when I realised how hard my nipples had become, clearly excited by the erotic situation as the flickering firelight illuminated my body.

Still moving hesitantly, I eased my panties off my buttocks and down my thighs, revealing my trimmed bush of dark curly pubic hair. As I pushed my panties down my legs until I could step out of them, I sensed how hot my body was, specifically between my thighs, and I knew how aroused I was. What I didn't know was the cause - was it the act of undressing before the man I so wanted, or was it that I was doing it at his command? I glanced up again and saw that his expression had not changed - I had not fully complied with his order yet.

I stepped out of my heels and put them beside the chair, feeling the reduction in my height as if it were a physical diminishing of my body, or more accurately of my psyche, making me shrink before Jack. I unclipped the suspenders from my stockings, rolling them down one by one and placing them with my other clothes. The final item, the one between me and nudity, took only a second to remove and, once the suspender belt was on the pile, I stood before Jack entirely naked. I didn't know what to do with my hands, whether to try to cover myself or leave them hanging limply at my side. In the end, I did a bit of both, looking down at the carpet in front of me in shame and embarrassment, and possibly a little submission.

"Well done, that must have been very hard." These were the first warm words he had spoken since I had entered the house, and I looked up in surprise to see a slight smile on his face. But it soon disappeared.

"Next time, I expect you to obey much more quickly, otherwise I will have to punish you. Do you understand?” My mouth fell open in dismay and fear. He had just told me how well I had done to obey him at all, yet now he was threatening me! I suddenly realised I needed to respond.

"Yes, Sir," I replied meekly, the submissive epithet coming easily to me this time. Once again, I noticed the slight smile and the faintest nod of the head in recognition of my submission. Somehow it made me feel good to please him, but that reaction surprised and discomfited me almost as much as anything else.

"You won't need those clothes again. Put them on fire."

"What?!" I looked at him in astonishment and disbelief. These were my clothes! Surely I would need them to go home again, at least! They were worth… well, it didn't really matter, they were mine, he had no right!

"If you disobey me, slave, you can take your clothes and leave right now. If you wish to remain, obey me immediately!"

I knew I had a decision to make, and only a second to make it. How much did I want him? Did I want him more than my dignity? I answered my question by picking up the pile of clothes and tossing them onto the flames. They were only possessions, I told myself, trying to ignore the symbolism of the act. I watched as the flames flared in front of me, consuming the only things I owned here, other than my shoes and bag. I didn’t need to look to imagine the triumphant look on Jack’s face, and when I did turn to look at him, the contrast between us was stark. I was not only naked, but coy, shy, and submissive while Jack, in his elegant lounge suit and open-necked shirt, was tall, suave, sophisticated and in control. But what he said to me next took me by surprise.

"Good girl, Dee, you are doing very well. Let's go and get you something else to wear. Bring your bag and shoes." As I followed him out of the room and down the corridor, I felt ridiculously pleased to have received that patronising compliment, like a little girl getting a pat on the head from teacher. How my mindset was changing – I had already accepted more than I would have previously thought possible, how much more would I be expected to accept before I achieved my goal, which right now was to receive the affection of the man who I had clearly fallen for.

He took me upstairs and into a small room which contained a large wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a dressing table and a chair, but no bed.

“Sit,” he commanded, before opening one of the drawers and taking something out. He picked up a bottle from the table and handed both to me.

“Use the oil on your legs, then put on the stockings. Give me your bag.” I handed him my bag, watching as he put it in the lowest drawer before closing and locking it. The key joined the other one in his trouser pocket, and I felt just a little more isolated from the outside world – he now had my housekeys, money, credit cards and ID locked away. It occurred to me that I could just disappear from the face of the Earth. No-one knew I was here, no-one would come looking for me. I had phoned in sick, Jack had the perfect alibi… I tried to dismiss these dark thoughts, realising I was only alarming myself, and looked at what he had given me.

The stockings were grey with black tops and black seams up the back, but they were rubber rather than nylon. They were very thin and smelled strongly, and I realised that I was holding my first-ever latex garment. I held them up and tested their stretchiness, but I sensed Jack’s growing impatience, and I quickly went about putting them on.

The oil smelled lovely, a buttery coconut, and helped the stockings to slide up my legs with relative ease – they felt incredibly tight and would have been a nightmare without the oil. I ensured the seam was perfectly aligned up the back of my leg, knowing there would be no option to straighten them once they were on, as there is with nylons. As I pulled the first one above my knee, I felt it become even tighter, until the stocking top finally snapped into place around the top of my thigh. I hurried to pull the other one on, and when I’d finished, I found myself out of breath, in a way that had nothing to do with physical exertion. They clung to me like nothing I had ever worn before, and it felt incredibly sexy – why, I don’t know, maybe I’m a rubber freak. All I knew was that, for the first time that night, I was incontrovertibly aroused.

“Here. Dress more quickly.” Jack handed me another scrap of latex, completely black this time, and I quickly ascertained that it was a pair of panties, although hardly my usual conservative style – I could see the slit through the crotch, which would provide unfettered access, even when they were on. They were easy to get on, at least to the tops of my thighs, but then they became very tight, and by the time I had them in just the right place, they were skintight, hugging my hip bones and the thong at the back diving between my buttocks, accentuating their size.

"Put your shoes on, and then tie your hair up in a high ponytail with this." I stepped into my heels, feeling as if a little normality had been re-established between us by my return to my normal height. He was holding out a ribbon, and I took it, sitting in front of the dressing table so that I could see myself in the mirror as I put the ribbon in my hair. What I saw staring back was a face flushed with arousal, half closed eyes behind my large round spectacles, lips which were full, pouting, and glistening from a combination of lipgloss and my own saliva where I had licked them lasciviously.

Next I was handed a pair of latex gloves and I quickly pulled them on until they reached well above my elbows. I ran my latex-clad fingers across them, and also across my thighs and crotch, feeling a thrill of excitement as rubber touched rubber. I was no longer worrying about what was to come, just luxuriating in the sensuality which washed over me.

"Get up." I stood and Jack handed me a new garment. This looked like a small corset which would not cover my bosom, and so it was, but this was also made of shiny black rubber. I stepped into it and pulled it up over my hips until it was loose around my waist. Jack moved behind me and, as I held onto the back of the chair, he began to lace it up, gradually pulling it tighter and tighter, until it seemed to be crushing my ribs and internal organs! I watched in the dressing table mirror as my waist was drawn in, until I had an amazing hourglass figure, with my large breasts above and my wide hips below the seemingly tiny waist. Jack tidied the laces away behind a panel which zipped closed behind me. Now my breathing was shallow and laboured from more than just my arousal.

"Here," Jack said, handing me a cloth and a can of spray, "polish all the latex until it shines. Remember to do this whenever you are wearing latex."

The act of polishing the rubber surfaces was fantastically sensual as I was, in effect, polishing myself, as the skintight material transmitted every touch directly to the skin below. By the time I was glistening from toe to breastbone, I could feel myself becoming damp between my legs. I couldn't believe the transformation that had happened in the short time I had been in Jack's house - both physical and mental. I looked like an absolute sex bomb, and I felt like one too. I was eager to find out what Jack had in store for me next.

When I turned around to him, I saw that he was holding a long coil of rope, and my sense of fear and nervousness returned with a vengeance. So far, I had obeyed a few simple commands and dressed up in fetish gear, but now came a real test - bondage. Just the word sent a thrill through my body. I knew that as soon as I was tied up, I would be truly helpless, but somehow I felt more excitement than fear.

"Put your arms behind your back like you’re crossing them." It took me a second to understand what he meant, and another second for me to comply, placing my arms horizontally across the small of my back, feeling the rubberised corset against my rubberised forearms. Once again, my breathing became shallow and rapid as I felt the rope being applied around my wrists, which were being tied to the other arm close by the elbow, so that they were held in the position I had put them in.

Moments later, I felt the rope being wrapped around my chest, just above my breasts. As it was pulled tight, I felt it pressing into the skin of my upper arms, above the top of the gloves, and it was a strange sensation, not entirely unpleasant. The rope wrapped around two more times, each time abutting the previous loop, each time holding me tighter, each time giving me the unsettling feeling somewhere in my stomach. Three wraps were also taken around my body underneath my breasts until my arms were immovable, locked to my sides. It now felt as though my chest had been constricted in a similar way as my stomach and waist, and it seemed the bondage was even more debilitating than at first I thought. Once again, I felt dampness between my legs as my body reacted in a wholly unexpected way.

Jack returned with a second piece of rope, tying this one around my waist, over the corset. I couldn't see why he was doing this, given that the corset already bound me quite sufficiently, but I was judging him too quickly, as moments later, he pulled the rope down in front of me and between my legs. He looped it underneath itself at the back and then brought it between my legs again, looping it under the waist rope. He took great care to adjust it, and I realised that he was making sure that it went between my labia! Not only that, but that the rope went either side of my clitoris, trapping it between the strands. He then yanked firmly on the rope, pulling it as tight as he could, making me squeal in surprise and discomfort, before tying it off at my waist. As I looked down my body, I could now see the white rope against my fair skin and the black rubber, and realised what an artistic impression it made. As I saw Jack returning to the chest of drawers, seemingly to find something else with which to bind me, I felt like I was becoming a work of art fit for a gallery, or at least an Internet porn site! Somehow, that concept was not wholly displeasurable to me.

What he returned with looked like an orthopaedic neck brace, but in black rubber. I had to lift my chin to enable him to fit it around my neck, and once he had fastened the straps behind, I found it impossible to look down at the floor or even my bound body. I wanted to ask him a question, but realised that I would be in trouble if I spoke out of turn - it seemed like I was picking up the rules of being a slave quite quickly. But I must have had a confused, questioning look on my face.

"You have a question, slave? Ask it." His voice was not unkind, but his firm tone still made me nervous as I spoke for only the third or fourth time since I'd walked in.

"Please, Sir," I said meekly, surprising even myself, "is this my… slave collar?" He smiled in response.

"No, slave, this is merely a posture collar. You will be tested over the next couple of days, and if both you and I wish to continue with this relationship, then you will receive your slave collar, and become my permanent slave."

So, I was on trial? But then so was he, I reasoned, given that he had implied that I could back out as well as he. What was going to happen over the next couple of days which would convince either of us which direction we should take? I decided there was little point in me trying to speculate, I should just wait and see exactly what transpired. In the meantime, I should focus on the here and now. Speaking of which, surely, now, he must be finished with my bondage?

No, apparently there was one last thing. He returned from what seemed to be his Aladdin's cave of bondage equipment with something I recognised - a ball gag, with a black ball and a light tan leather strap. He approached me from behind and offered up the ball to my lips, waiting for me to submit. I knew that, once the ball was in place, my ability to protest would be severely curtailed. But, I reasoned, I haven't used my ability to protest so far, and would it have done me any good anyway? I swallowed nervously and opened my mouth.

The ball pressed against my teeth, making me open my jaws wider, and then wider still. Just as I thought it would not fit, it slid behind my teeth and my jaws closed on it, relaxing a little and locking it in place. The strap then became redundant, but Jack ensured it was as tight as he could make it, and I felt the ball pulled deeper into my mouth as he did so. Now, finally, my ‘dressing’ was complete. But I had no idea what he intended to do with me now that he had me exactly as he wanted me.

He now moved in front of me and, to my utter astonishment, clipped a leash, as you would use it on a dog, to a ring at the front of my collar, tugging on it to make me follow him as he left the room. He led me back downstairs and down the hall, all the time not watching me, just knowing I had to follow. He stopped in front of a door and unlocked then opened it. Behind it, I saw steps leading down, and realised he was taking me into the cellar. I stumbled as he pulled me forward whilst I was standing, fearing to go into the darkness, but I was given no choice. My high heels clicked on the stone steps as I descended nervously, unable to look down and see where I was putting my feet. The air became cooler as we went down, and I began to shiver, partly from the cold but mainly in fear and anticipation of what I would find.

At the bottom of the stairs, I was able to look up and look around, and I felt my stomach turn. The only word to describe what I saw was ‘dungeon’, and I suddenly realised that I had no conception of what it really meant to be a sex slave.

Whips on the wall – check. Manacles and chains – check. St Andrews cross – check. Medieval rack – check. Cage in the corner – check. Yes, this was a dungeon alright!

Needless to say, I was scared witless. I had no direct experience of BDSM, and my extensive research, comprising three nights surfing the Internet accompanied by six glasses of wine, had revealed that, yes, being whipped was one possible scenario. Unfortunately, it was not one that I had ever imagined my boss and potential dream boyfriend, Jack, being into or wanting to carry out on me. But here I was, bound, gagged, dressed head to toe in rubber, and being led into his S&M dungeon!

Defying my previous instructions on the correct behaviour of a slave, I tried to pull back against the leash dragging me along, making garbled cries of protest through the ballgag strapped into my mouth, and shaking my head despite the high posture collar around my neck. Jack turned and pulled me close, staring angrily into my face.

"Don't try to resist, slave, it's too late for that now. You will undergo testing of your suitability as a slave over the next two days, whether you like it or not. Only at the end of that period will you be given the opportunity to confirm or renege on your decision to come here. Of course, before you get that opportunity, you will have to convince me that you are suitable. And this is not a good start."

At the moment, I didn't give a flying fuck about my ‘suitability’, I just wanted to get out of there with my arse in one piece! Jack seemed to recognise this but, rather than releasing me, he decided that he needed to manhandle me.

He dragged me into the middle of the room beside what looked like a low athletics hurdle and forced me down on my knees with my back to it. Holding my frantically struggling body with one hand, he used the other to take leather straps attached to the hurdle to bind my knees to the base of the posts and pulled the third across my chest, holding my body tight against the cross-piece. I then felt rope on my ankles, further anchoring me to I knew not what. With my hands already securely tied behind my back, I was now completely helpless. There were tears behind my glasses and I was desperately crying out for Jack to stop, to let me go, that I’d made a huge mistake, but he just ignored my muffled pleas.

I watched in trepidation as he walked over to an evil-looking hook on the wall and… took off his jacket and hung it up! Honestly, it was like he’d just come home from the office – ‘Hi, honey, I’m home! What’s new with you?’ ‘MMMMPFH!!’ ‘What’s up, darling, cat got your tongue?’ All this silly dialogue came into my head, and I would have laughed if I hadn’t been so scared.

He went over to another chest of drawers, one that I assumed was full of bondage accessories just like the one in the room where he’d put me in my current ‘outfit’. From where I was, kneeling on the floor, I couldn’t see inside the drawer, but I saw that what came out in Jack’s hand was shiny, metallic and included some silvery chain. Not being an aficionado of such things, I had no idea what it might be, but I was sure it couldn’t be good.

As he crouched in front of me, his powerful body inches from my own, helpless one, I tried frantically to see what he had in his hands, but then he took me completely by surprise by leaning forward and sucking my left nipple into his mouth. It was the first time he had touched me, sexually – ever – and the effect on me was dramatic. This was what I’d wanted all along! Okay, ignoring the fact that I was dressed in latex and trussed up like a turkey, I was exactly where I wanted to be – receiving the tender, arousing attentions of my man! My muffled cries of protest immediately transformed into muffled cries of pleasure. Yes, I thought I can live with being bound and gagged if you use the opportunity to do this to me! I felt his hands massaging my breasts as his mouth switched from nipple to nipple, and it felt soooooo good!

I lazily opened my eyes to look down at him, having closed them as the feelings of ecstasy washed over me, and saw something shiny glinting in his hand. I focused in on the object and identified open jaws coming my way, and… suddenly I was back to the shaking head and the desperate cries. How could he do this?! He had made sure that my nipples were firm and protruding nicely, eager for more attention, and then…

Fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh FUCK!! THAT HURTS!!!

The clamps bit down cruelly on my tender buds, making me howl in pain. I tried to look down at my tortured nips but the damn posture collar stopped me. All I could do was look up at the ceiling and let the tears flow. I felt betrayed, led into an ambush by someone I had foolishly believed to have an ounce of kindness in him. I realised he was still kneading my breasts and, when I looked down, he was staring fascinatedly at me, as if watching some lab animal undergoing an experiment. To my utter horror, he then lifted up the chain between the clamps and slowly, inexorably, pulled it taut.

I arched my back, trying to move my chest towards him, but my bondage was too restrictive, and soon I could feel the clamps biting even harder as my nipples followed where I could not. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on me, gauging my reaction to this torture. Was he testing to see if I could take it? Or to see if my wailing and tears were sufficiently dramatic to satisfy his sadistic desires? I didn’t know, and I didn’t care, I just wanted it to stop. I could feel my whole breast being lifted by the cruel clamps torturing my nipples, and I screwed up my eyes against the pain, trying to somehow cope, while the tenor of my cries rose an octave. I could feel sweat beading on my forehead, and I once more opened my eyes and stared at Jack in mute incomprehension of his cold cruelty. Still, he seemed to search my face for some sign, one I didn’t know how to give.

At last he dropped the chain, and I finally breathed out as my breasts returned to their natural position. My nipples now felt numb, and I was thankful for that. I slumped, relaxing every muscle in my body, held up only by the straps holding me against the frame, my head lolling on the stiff front edge of the posture collar. When I wearily looked up to see what my tormentor was up to now, I saw him returning from the drawers, and my heart leapt into my throat as I wondered what new torture was coming my way. I recognised that he was carrying one of those wand vibrators, and my hopes rose that he was moving away from the pain and back to the pleasure aspects of BDSM.

He fitted the wand into a little stand, which he went to place in front of me, but I couldn’t look down and see because of the collar. I let out a moan of appreciation as I felt it nuzzling in snuggly against the front of my latex panties, but the volume of my inarticulate vocalisations increased appreciably when I felt the split crotch of the material being opened, my labia being spread and the wand being pressed even tighter against my sensitive flesh. I saw that he had a remote in his hand and as he pressed a button, I began to writhe under the buzzing of the instrument, its vibrations directly stimulating my already engorged clitoris. Somehow, the tightness of my bondage, the ropes around my chest and arms and the straps holding me in place, increased the effect on me, and I felt my body reacting, rising to the longed-for peak.

At that moment, I felt the clamps being removed and I felt a surge of relief as the pressure on my poor sore nipples diminished. Thank God! He’d come to his senses, and was going to tantalise me rather than torture me!

A few seconds later, it hit me. As the blood rushed back into the pinched flesh, the pain of the initial application of the clamps was revisited on me, magnified in intensity and extended in duration, drawing yet another muffled scream from me. I looked up at Jack, murder in my eyes, and saw his mouth twist into a thin, cruel smile at my torment. Just then, the vibrator kicked into high, and suddenly my mind and body were assailed by conflicting signals, extreme pleasure combining with the alarm signals coming from my breasts, confusing my brain as to what response it should make. I was twisting and turning, pulling frantically at the bonds holding me in place, an animal howl escaping from my lips as saliva sprayed from my mouth. Despite all this, I felt my orgasm begin to overwhelm me, and then…

No, no no noooo!! For fuck’s sake, don't turn it off NOW!!!

The vibrations died and, despite my desperate attempts to grind my loins against the wand, my orgasm died with them. This was awful! I so wanted to cum right then, I felt like I needed it, I felt I deserved it for everything I'd put up with! How could he deny me that simple pleasure?!

As I came down from that almost-high, I saw Jack go to the wall, the one with the line of whips and other torture weapons, and I started whining in fear once again. He took down a flogger, and returned to stand in front of me, swinging the leather fronds against my body, teasing my nipples until they were, despite my terror, once again standing firm and proud. I closed my eyes in anticipation of the attack to come, but instead felt the straps laid across my shoulder with the handle nestling in my cleavage.

Confused, I opened my eyes to see him approaching with something black, but before I could really work out what it was, it was being put on the top of my head where I couldn't see it. Jack pulled rather painfully on my ponytail and then I felt and saw black latex being pulled down over my face. My glasses were whipped away, and then it was covering my hair, covering my eyes, pulled down until my head was completely hidden beneath the shiny material! Panic overtook me at this new terror - I was blind, my hearing was severely impaired, and I felt like I couldn't breathe as the tight rubber clung to my skin. I tried to cry out but even my muffled cries were now stifled almost into silence - there were no eyeholes and no hole over my mouth, and I only knew there were holes over my nostrils because I could still breathe. Worse than this, I was trapped in my own world, swimming in my own fear, unable to see what Jack was doing, and unable to express myself in any way whatsoever. Somehow, everything seemed so much more frightening - I guess it was the inability to prepare myself, either mentally or physically, for whatever was coming my way. I felt like I was going to wet myself, I was so scared.

I felt the flogger taken up from its casual resting place across my body, and I prepared myself once more to be attacked, though I had never been beaten by such a thing and had no real idea of what to expect - another factor fuelling my fear. But before that happened, the wand vibrator suddenly burst back into life, distracting me from the future and making me focus on the present. It was once more on full power, quickly firing my arousal until it was sky high again. I was sure I would cum this time!

Of course, that was the moment he struck. The multiple strands of the flogger slapped down hard across my breasts, already sensitised by their earlier treatment, the leather biting into the soft, yielding skin. The pain of that assault hit me like a punch in the stomach and I screamed, past the gag, through the hood, not knowing if Jack heard or cared that I was in agony. Time and again, the flogger ripped across my chest, from left and from right and then left again, giving me no time to deal with one stroke before the next arrived.

As the lashing went on, the vibrator continued to assault my pussy, the two forces vying for supremacy within my body and cancelling each other out, so that I couldn't cum but I couldn't come down either. If it appeared I must climax, the vibrations reduced, leaving me screaming in frustration as well as agony, there being no similar let-up on the flogging.

On and on it went until, at last, my body gave out and I collapsed into unconsciousness.

* * *

When I woke up, things had changed. For one thing, it was dark, the only illumination coming from a small nightlight which cast an eerie red glow over everything. Unfortunately, it showed me that I was still in the dungeon – yes, that scary shape in the gloom was the St. Andrews cross – but now I was inside the cage I’d seen earlier!

Also, the latex was gone – the hood, corset, gloves and stockings had all been removed, along with my shoes and the gag, the last being a huge relief to my aching jaw. But I still wasn’t free of all bondage – my wrists were cuffed at either end of a bar which seemed to be attached to the back of the posture collar I was still wearing, a bar just long enough to prevent me bringing either hand to touch my face or body. There was also still a rope tight around my waist and cutting into my crotch, definitely not very comfortable!

My first thought was to get out of here, maybe run down the road, naked if I had to, to find someone to save me from the sadist into whose clutches I had so naively placed myself. I had fallen for my boss and, despite his warnings about enslaving me and despite my own research into what that might mean, I had still walked into his house and allowed him to tie me up, gag me and bring me to this dungeon, where he had teased and tortured me in equal measure until I’d finally fainted.

One look at the oversized padlock on the cage door put paid to that little escape fantasy. So I was bound, locked in a cage, probably locked in the cellar, certainly locked in a remote house to which no-one knew I’d come. Nice going, Dee, you dumbass! The only thing which kept me from losing my mind and dissolving into despair and floods of tears was his statement that this would last for two days, and at the end of that period, I would be given the opportunity to leave. All I had to do was survive those two days…

In terms of getting out of here now, I decided I only had one option left.

“Jack? Jack! Please! Let me out! Please! Untie me and I’ll do whatever you want! Come on, Jack!”

My begging, pleading, cajoling, threatening and finally expletive-laden name-calling went on at the top of my voice for a good ten minutes before I gave up. Silence. I remembered the thickness of the door which had led down into this hellhole and realised I was literally wasting my breath. I was not going anywhere until he decided to come and let me out. And when he did that, I didn’t want to think about what he would do to me then…

I decided to distract myself by checking out my surroundings. Well, it didn’t take long – I was in a wire-mesh cage, about six feet by four feet by six feet tall, with a mattress covering the floor, so I could stand up and lie down, but not much else. I noticed two bottles attached to the side of the cage a couple of feet off the ground and went over to investigate.

They looked like drinks bottles you’d find on the side of a hamster’s cage, but oversized – in fact I realised that was exactly what they were, I was in this cage and being treated like fucking lab rat! But, then, I realised just how thirsty I was – I hadn’t had a drink for maybe 12 hours – so, discarding what little dignity I had left, I went down on my knees so I could get to the drink nozzles.

Except there was one thing I hadn’t noticed. The nozzles were not just metal tubes like on a pet’s cage, no, they had been covered by… dildos! I manoeuvred myself so I could get a hand on the nozzle and squeezed the fake penis, finding that it was fairly soft to the touch, but was glued on well enough that I couldn’t pull it off. Nothing came out of it initially, but after a bit of trial and error, I found that pressing the area near the wire mesh made a drop of water come out and drip onto the mattress.

Oh Jack, you sick fuck! If I want a drink, I have to go down on my knees and suck dick?! How gross!

The problem was, I was really thirsty. And hungry – I hadn’t eaten a thing since about 5PM on the previous day. So, reluctantly and with some distaste, I knelt there, bent down, and took the rubber dildo in my mouth, sucking on it. Nothing happened. Then I remembered I had to reach the spot near the bars and squeeze, so I pushed forward, letting the cock in further and… I started to choke as my gag reflex kicked in and I backed off, coughing and spluttering. Oh great! If I wanted a drink I had to deep throat the fucking thing?! This was so humiliating!

But I desperately needed that drink! It took me half a dozen attempts before I could control my gag reflex sufficiently to actually get some water out of the thing, and then I had to suck really hard… I guess this was either meant to humiliate me or train me, although I didn’t think Jack would want me to bite down on his cock like I was having to do with this! I supposed he’d have some other way to make sure I didn’t do that…

I found that thinking about sucking Jack while going through the motions was starting to make me hot, but there wasn’t much I could do about it except get even more frustrated. So I thought about the second bottle – what could that contain? Having already checked any remaining dignity at the door, I went to find out.

It was thick and sweet, kind of like a melted Micky D milkshake, and tasted wonderful. From the first drop, I realised just how hungry I was, and I sucked the cock greedily, trying to ignore how bizarre it would look to an outsider. But I was very aware of how alone I was and just got on with it.

Having exhausted the entertainment potential of the cage, I decided to lie down and get some rest before the trials of the coming day. But that presented a new problem – with this yolk on me, I would have to lie on my back or my front. If I lay on my back, I feared I’d be like a turtle, unable to ‘right’ myself. But my breasts still felt very tender after the nipple clamps and the flogging, and crushing them beneath me did not seem an attractive option. Still, it was either that or trying to sleep propped up against the wire, which seemed even less likely to work, so I carefully lowered myself down onto my stomach, stretching out on the thin but surprisingly comfortable mattress and, despite my rather awkward position, managed to drop off to sleep.

* * *

I didn't have any lurid dreams during the night, and woke feeling surprisingly refreshed to the sound of the padlock being opened and removed. I struggled up from my lying position onto my knees and turned around to see Jack opening the door to the cage and standing to one side so that I could come out.

"Good morning, slave. Did you sleep well?" Okay, so we were straight into the slave routine.

"Yes, Sir," I replied, hardly even noticing how submissive my response was as I crawled forward on my knees until I was through the door, where I got to my feet.

"Good. I see you managed to feed and water yourself, that’s good, slave."

Huh, patronising as well, that's nice! However, I still got a warm feeling from his compliment - I'm becoming a good slave, yay for me!

He took hold of the leash, still hanging from the front of the posture collar, and led me to the far side of the dungeon. I hadn't noticed yesterday - maybe not surprising, given all the other stuff going on - but there was a walled off area, in which I saw a toilet and shower. Great! There's no need for me to leave the dungeon - ever! That thought scared me - from what I'd seen so far, that might not be so far from the truth!

"Sit." I looked up in surprise at Jack, but saw that he was perfectly serious. I manoeuvred myself a little awkwardly with my arms still held out on either side of me by the yoke and sat, rather self-consciously, on the toilet. Jack made no move to leave, or even to discreetly turn his back and, despite a rather desperate need to go, I found myself unable to.

"Problem, slave?" I felt myself reddening under his baleful gaze.

"I-I can't go, Sir, not while I'm being watched," I stated in embarrassment.

"Well you’d better learn. Should I get my flogger and ‘encourage’ you?"

"No, Sir!" I cried in alarm, not wanting to see that thing again. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, gradually allowing my bladder to open and… The sound of my pee splashing into the water below had me blushing even more, but once I started there was no way I was going to stop again!

When I'd finished, I suddenly realised I wouldn't be able to wipe with my hands still locked like this and, not wanting to ‘drip dry’, I sat there in some confusion. I wasn't exactly reassure when Jack tore off a piece of toilet paper and then reached down between my thighs and dried between my legs!

"Come on, slave, under the shower." As he didn't make any move to release my wrists, I rather nervously moved under the large showerhead and waited for him to turn it on. I let out a shocked gasp when he did because the water was fucking freezing! However many thousands of pounds he'd spent on this dungeon, he obviously hadn't bothered having hot water plumbed in! Not quite all the mod cons for slaves, apparently. I found myself wondering whether there was any heating for those long winter nights... not that I expected or wanted to be here by then!

As I stood and shivered under the water, Jack put some shampoo on his hand and worked it into my scalp. Once he had rinsed it through, he then washed my body with shower gel and, despite the cold water, I found it a huge turn on to have his hands roaming my body, soaping my breasts, reaching between my legs, running between my buttocks… I was getting very worked up and almost regretted it when he turned the water off. But the stimulation continued as he rubbed my skin vigorously with the rough towel to dry me. I had warmed up and was definitely in the mood by the time he led me back into the main part of the dungeon.

Finally, he released my wrists and took off the yoke, handing me a small towel to allow me to dry my wrists, hair and any bits that he had missed. I was just starting to feel a bit more human when I was brought back to this strange new reality with a jolt. Jack had been over to his supply and was now standing in front of me holding out a gag, clearly expecting me to put it on. With a barely audible sigh and a slight drooping of the shoulders, I took it from him.

This had a wide leather panel on the front, curved to fit around the face, with a rather fat cock-shaped protrusion on the inside. As I opened my mouth and pushed it in, I felt like I was donning a scuba mask for my descent into the murky depths of the BDSM world. Good imagination, huh? I buckled the strap behind my head, underneath my still damp hair, wondering what new torture I would be subjected to this morning.

“Get over against the Cross, facing into it, and present yourself, slave.” Oh, crap! My fear level hit new heights as I walked over to the St Andrews cross, the scariest thing in the dungeon, and ‘assumed the position’, arms stretched above me, legs spread, pressing my body against the cross. I found that the surface of it was rough, like sandpaper, which seemed weird, but it was the least of my worries, as I saw Jack at my side, with rope in his hand.

I watched as if mesmerised by a snake as he wound the rope around my wrist, then around the cross, and tied the knot – yank! – tight across my skin, digging into it. He walked around behind me and appeared on my other side, another rope in his hand. Yank! Another very tight tie. He looked into my eyes and smiled, which somehow scared me more than his previous scowl. My breath whistled in and out of my flared nostrils, my blood pounded in my ears and, to my utter astonishment, I felt the dampness between my legs! I felt the rope around one ankle and then the next, each sharp tug of the hemp pulling me closer to the cross and dragging me deeper into this strange, new feeling of… submission? Was I aroused by his taking such tight control of me? Yes, I still feared the pain he would surely give me, but I was excited about the pleasure which might also accompany it!

I was surprised when I felt the rope tying my knees against the cross, and then he was next to me, tying me across the elbows. Why was he doing this? I was already helplessly bound, this was just proving a point, letting me know how much in control he was. But there was more! Now he tied my thighs, and then my waist so that I was trapped immovably against the cross, its scratchy surface really starting to dig into my skin, reminding me how much punishment my breasts had taken as they were squashed out of shape.

As I frantically tried to look around for my attacker to see what he was doing, I realised two things. The first was that the cross had been deliberately angled so that, tied as I was and with the posture collar reducing my field of view, I could see almost nothing of the room, and therefore nothing of what Jack was up to. The other thing which struck me was that, however much my emotions went up and down, from terror at one extreme to pure lust at the other, Jack was constant, unhurried, never frenzied, always in control of himself as well as me and the situation. It was just another uncertainty in the turmoil of my mind – I couldn’t tell if this was the self-control of a supremely confident man or of the ice-cold killer. I certainly knew that whatever he was planning, I had no choice but to endure it…

I was surprised to feel the rope between my legs loosen, and then move aside. But my nervousness at the change was justified when I felt my buttocks being prised apart by sharp fingernails and something cold and greasy pressing against my virgin sphincter. Alarm soon took over as the pressure increased, accompanied by a rotating action which worked to open up my rear entrance and allow the butt plug, as I assumed it to be, to worm its way in. I was shocked and discomfited by the knowledge that ‘anal play’, something which I had always considered rather gross, demeaning and not for me, was now to be forced on me, regardless of my reservations.

My philosophical objections (‘it’s dirty, unnatural’) were soon overridden by physical concerns that the object was far too thick in girth to enter my tight little hole. I started trying to protest verbally, to no effect, and was soon screaming into the gag as the lubricated monster opened me up in the most painful way. At last, the enormous bulbous head popped inside me, and I could relax a fraction. But I felt it being pushed all the way up into my rectum, until I felt like I had the worst case of constipation imaginable! When the crotch rope was returned to its original position and tightness, I let out a grunt, protesting as the intruder was driven even deeper.

I was completely taken by surprise when it burst into life, vibrating like a mad thing inside me, giving me an overwhelming desire to evacuate my bowels. But I also found that faint reflections of those vibrations were travelling through my body to more normal targets of such attentions, and I found myself trying to squirm against the rough service of the cross, despite the yards of rope preventing me from any significant movement.

“I thought you might like to know what’s coming, slave, for comparison purposes.” I jumped at Jack’s quiet voice in my ear, then looked in dismay at what he was holding up for my edification. It looked like a long flat piece of wood, a small plank with a handle at one end and holes drilled along its length. I didn't recognise it, and I wasn't sure what it was going to be used for until I felt it brought down hard, very hard, across my buttocks. If I hadn't been tied down quite so tightly, I would have jumped 3 feet in the air! My screams gurgled in my throat, unable to get past the very effective gag.

The paddle, as I now know it is called, came down time and again with a loud WHAP! until I was shaking, and tears were running down my face. During the occasional breaks in the rapid beating, I could feel the vibrations in my arse somehow starting to force the arousal to build up inside me, only to be quashed again as the paddling resumed. This pattern seemed to go on for hours, although I know it can't have done. But my cheeks were certainly red hot and stinging like fuck by the time Jack finally let up.

I slumped against the cross, covered in sweat and tears, wondering where this long, awful day was heading next…

End of part 1

Copyright© 2013 by Jennifer Harrison. All rights reserved.