Puppet on a Rope
by Jennifer Harrison


Part 10 - The Future

It was the last day of the autumn term, and everyone was making their way home for Christmas. Except me. No, I wasn't allowed to leave yet, I still had one more service to provide for Miss Maria.

I was in the sitting room of her house, kneeling on the floor, naked except for my dog collar, with my arms tied tight behind my back, wrist and elbows. This was not unusual or even uncommon. No, what was rather surprising was that Mistress had made me climb into a large cardboard box and had then sealed me inside, closing the lid and, from what I could hear, taping it shut. What the fuck?! I had no idea what this was about, but I had been around Mistress long enough to not ask questions. I guessed I would find out eventually, and I probably wouldn't like the answer. But ours is not to reason why…

I had been in there for maybe an hour, the air getting warm and stale, when I heard the doorbell ring. There were indistinct voices, and then I heard footsteps approaching. It sounded like two people. Had she got Bethany here, to join me in this particular ‘game’, possibly even in this box? No, I'm sure the other voice I heard was male. Had Master arrived?

"Thanks for coming over, Tom," Mistress said – so no, not Master, she always called him ‘Sir’. But who? I started to feel very nervous.

"No thanks needed, Maria," the unidentified male voice replied, "when are the others getting here?"

"I'm afraid I have to admit to a little white lie," I heard Mistress say in a coy tone, "I didn't actually invite anyone else, just you."

"Really? Why did you do that? I thought this was an end of term party for all the senior staff?" The man's voice sounded surprised but not irritated.

"Well… I wanted to spend some time with you, Tom. Something a little more… intimate."

"I'm shocked, Maria!" He didn't sound shocked, I could practically hear the smug, self-satisfied grin in his voice! "What am I to do with you?"

"I've been a bad girl, maybe you should… spank me?" Oh my God! Whoever this was, she was coming on pretty strong! She was practically purring!

"That's a tantalising thought," the man responded, "maybe we should continue this conversation… upstairs?"

"Yes, I think we should. But first, let me give you your Christmas present."

"Really? I didn't know we were exchanging gifts!" He sounded alarmed - obviously he didn't have a present for her.

"Don't worry, Tom, I didn't spend anything on it. I just thought it would be something you might like to play with. Or we could play with it together…" I was starting to get the picture, finally. Her ‘present’ to him was going to be… me. I wondered what they would do with me - as I heard the tape being ripped off the top of the box, I knew I wouldn’t have to wait long to find out. Light flooded in and I looked up to see…

"Kelly? What… Maria? What is the meaning of this?" It was Mr Deakins! Oh my God, my tutor! And he was staring down at me - at me kneeling in a box, naked and bound! My mouth opened, but I couldn't speak, my jaw just dropped as my face turned bright red. Mistress approached me and, indicating that I should get up, helped me out of the box. A slight pressure on my shoulder indicated that I should get back on my knees, and I sank down obediently, spreading my knees as was expected, feeling myself blush even more as I exposed myself in front of the one person in the University I really looked up to, the one I had had a crush on for more than a year. I looked down at the floor in front of me in shame.

"This is my slave," Mistress said, almost conversationally, "she isn't Kelly here, her name is ‘cunt’, and I know she is eager to do whatever you want, aren’t you, cunt?"

"Yes, Mistress," I murmured.

"Maria, I can't allow this!" Mr Deakins protested, "she's a student, in my department. I'm her tutor, for goodness’ sake! How could you think this was in any way appropriate? Why would you think I might be interested or open to such an unethical suggestion?!" He sounded shocked, even affronted by the idea. I began to wonder if Mistress had made a catastrophic mistake.

"I think you should know," Mistress responded with confidence, possibly smugness, in her voice, "I got one of the IT guys to look at your computer for me - they are remarkably cooperative when approached by a strong woman willing to treat them with the contempt they desire. Anyway, what he told me about your Internet search history was very interesting. Plenty of nubile young girls, tied up and being whipped…" I glanced up as his face and saw the look of horror, alarm and fear.

"Is this some kind of blackmail?!" he blustered, "do you intend to ruin me?"

"Tom, Tom, it's nothing like that," Mistress said soothingly, "all I want you to know is that I know what you like, and this is an opportunity for you to get it. You can walk out of here now, and I guarantee you that no one will ever hear of this. Alternatively, you can walk out of here in a few hours’ time having satisfied a deep need that you have nurtured for years, and no one will ever hear of that either. It's a risk-free opportunity I'm offering. What do you say?" There was a long silence, and I stared at the floor, hoping that he would make the right decision. Eventually, he spoke.

"And you," he said in a belligerent tone, looking down at me, "will you tell anyone?"

"I didn't tell anybody about her," I replied bitterly, knowing that he had already made up his mind, "why the fuck would I tell them I had been raped and abused by you?" In that moment, I knew that any feelings I had held for him had died, as I saw him for what he was - just another sick pervert, ready to take advantage of me.

I let out a cry of pain and surprise as he backhanded me across the cheek.

"You've got an insolent mouth on you, slave," he growled, and I felt him grab my nipples, squeezing them painfully in a vice-like grip. "What did you say her name was? Cunt? How appropriate! You are a stupid, worthless cunt that deserves to be punished! I accept your offer, Maria, and will take great pleasure in teaching this ungrateful little slut a lesson she has been asking for all year!"

"Excellent! Follow me." Mistress walked towards the hall, while Mr Deakins hooked two fingers of his right hand through my nipple rings and dragged me painfully to my feet, making me stumble after him.

Mistress led us to what she called her playroom, a place I had come to know and fear, a place in which I had suffered on many occasions.

"You have an impressive setup here, Maria," Mr Deakins said in an admiring tone. He dragged me to the middle of the room and forced me down on my knees, leaving me there while he inspected the tools for restraint and torture arrayed around the room.

"Feel free to avail yourself of anything you see," Mistress smiled, "I'll just wait over here and observe, if that's okay." She closed the door and leaned against it casually.

"Please do," he said, "I hope that you, in turn, will feel free to offer advice - I've never had the chance to dominate a woman in real life, so I may make mistakes."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," she purred, "just remember, she's yours to do with as you wish, no matter how cruel or depraved, as small-minded people would call it. Don't hold back due to any false sense of propriety. No one will judge you."

Oh thanks, I thought, don't give him a fucking pep talk!

He continued to look in drawers and at the racks on the walls, fascinated by what he found. After a few minutes perusing, he approached me with a spreader bar. Pulling me to my feet by my nipple rings, he strapped one end around my ankle before kicking my feet far enough apart so that he could fix the other end. He turned again, this time returning with a head harness. He fitted the leather-covered metal ring into my mouth, forcing my jaws wide apart, buckling the strap tight behind my head. Two more leather straps ran from the metal rings on my cheeks up the side of my nose and met in a third metal ring on my forehead. A single leather strap then went across my head and buckled tight with those already fastened. The final strap went under my chin and, when he tightened it, it prevented me from any movement of my jaw. He also had a couple of thin sticks, about six inches long.

"Stick out your tongue," he ordered. Reluctantly, I did so and felt him put the two sticks around it, one below and one above it. He wound a small rubber band around each end of the two sticks where they protruded from my mouth, clamping my tongue and preventing me from pulling it back in. Satisfied, he turned back to select something else to use on me.

This time, he selected a large metal ass-hook, a device that I knew, from bitter experience, would be very painful, with its bulbous round end stretching my anus far wider open that it would naturally go. He held it up to my face.

"I suggest you lick it, cunt, if you want it lubricated." I looked at him with new fear - even Mistress had used proper lubricant to get this thing inside me. Was he even more sadistic than her? I glanced over at her, seeing the smile on her lips - perhaps she was thinking the same thing!

Despite my feeble attempts to wet the end of the hook, the insertion was horribly painful, making me cry out and bringing tears to my eyes, not only as it forced its way in but also as it travelled up into my rectum. I felt him pull the rope attached to the end up my back behind my arms, before threading it through the D ring on the top of the head harness. He pulled on it sharply, making me cry out again as my head was yanked back and the hook was driven even further up inside me. Now I couldn't move my head, I could only stare at the ceiling.

But I saw him pulling the electric-powered hoist along its track on the ceiling until it was above me, and then lowering the cable until the hook at the end of it had passed my face, and I couldn't look down to see where it was being taken. Eventually, it stopped and I heard him clip it to something, before starting to wind the cable back up. I had no idea what was going on, and it frightened me.

"I think you might want to sit down before you fall down, cunt," he murmured into my ear, and I felt the spreader bar between my ankles being pulled upwards. I suddenly realised that he had attached the hoist to the bar and it was going to pull my legs up into the air… which would result in my feet being pulled off the ground… which would then send me crashing to the floor! In a panic, I sat down quickly, forgetting the hook in my arse, making me shout in agony as I managed to drive it even further up my poor, tortured rectum.

As my feet left the ground, I was tipped over onto my back until, gradually, my legs, then my buttocks were lifted and, finally, I was hanging upside down by my ankles, staring at the floor below me. The whole experience left me crying in terror at the disorientation I was feeling, not only upside down but unable to see anything going on around me, and also frightened at the prospect of what he might do to me in this oh-so-vulnerable position.

"That's a very interesting position," I heard Mistress saying, "it must be very challenging for her, well done. What do you intend to do to her now?" I was very interested, and also very scared, to hear the answer to that question.

"Well, I realise you like to demean her by calling her ‘cunt’," he said, "but I want you to know exactly who is doing this to you, Kelly, and why. I have been your tutor for a year and a term, and I liked you from the first time I saw you, a very intelligent and attractive young woman. The thought of your young, nubile body naked and strictly bound kept me entertained through many a long night although, as a professional, I would, of course, never have done anything about my interest.

"But you have caused me nothing but trouble the whole time I’ve tutored you, with your lack of application and focus, your distracted demeanour and failure to do the work expected of you." I wanted to tell him that all of these things had been caused by my being forced to become a sex slave, taking away the time I would otherwise use for studying and working, but the gag he had put on me prevented it. I suppose if I had been able to say that, Mistress would have countered by saying that I was the one who had agreed to become a sex slave, and I couldn't really argue against that.

"So, Kelly, in my professional role as your tutor, I'm going to whip some sense into you!" I let out an inarticulate wail in an attempt to beg for mercy, but I knew it was useless, even without the gag. He wanted to do this, he was going to do this, and nothing I could do or say would change that.

I recognised the feel of the leather fronds of the flogger across my breasts and stomach, but I didn't welcome it and I didn't enjoy it, my screams and howls bouncing off the walls of the small playroom, seeming louder than ever before. There was no count of the strokes, seemingly no agenda or limit, he just whipped me as hard as he wanted, and for as long as he wanted. When he finally paused, I was in agony like I had never felt before, even from Mistress. I prayed that he was finished, satisfied with the angry red lines across my skin and the heartrending screams and sobbing coming from me. But my prayers went unanswered.

If I had thought I was in pain before, I was wrong, very wrong. The next lash of the flogger came down hard between my spread thighs, hitting me squarely on my exposed pussy. I screamed, I twisted, I bounced up and down trying somehow to either avoid his blows or persuade him to stop. Nothing worked. A second and a third time he lashed down on my tortured labia, then four, five and six, until I was on the verge of passing out from the pain.

"There, I hope you've learned your lesson, Kelly," he said, breathing hard from the exertion.

"You swing a mean flogger, Tom," I heard Mistress say, "she's going to feel that for quite a few days."

"You said not to hold back, I took you at your word," he replied, his voice cold and clinical.

"Quite right," Mistress replied softly, "I found it quite… stimulating."

I was intensely relieved when I felt the rope untied from my head harness and the hook eased from my arse. The winch motor whirred into life, but I found myself rising rather than being lowered for release. After I’d come to a halt, I realised that my face was now at crotch height, mainly because Mr Deakins’ crotch was in front of me and his cock was in my face.

In a way, I was reassured by this – having to suck cock was familiar territory for me, safe territory, sad though that sounds. I was even becoming conditioned to get excited when I was forced to do it – I felt my pussy becoming wet as he slid his erection through the ring gag into my mouth.

But, moments later, I smelt the sharp aroma of sulphur in my nostrils, followed by the sweet scent of lavender, and I knew what that meant – candle! My heart pounded once more in fear at the torment I knew was to follow.

I screamed and kicked in my bondage as the first drip of burning hot wax landed squarely on the swollen, moist lips of my upturned cunt. Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!!! I screamed again and again, the agony of this torture indescribably awful. And all the time, Mr Deakins kept his cock in my mouth, muffling the noise I was making. He thrust deep into me, repeatedly making me gag and retch.

“That’s very good, Kelly,” he said in a frighteningly calm voice, “every time you scream, it sends the most delightful vibrations through my John Thomas. So stimulating!”

Drip… drip… drip… every time, a new spot… every time, a new, piercing agony… every time, a desperate scream ripped from my throat. When he finally shot his load into me, it came as a blessed relief as the wax torture ended as well.

I was only vaguely aware as I was lowered to the floor and the spreader bar was unstrapped from my ankles. Almost instinctively, I curled into a ball, trying to cope with the pain of the beating and hot wax my pussy had received. I couldn’t believe that the man for whom I’d had the hots, the man who’d always seemed so quiet, so reserved, so distant, had tortured me so violently. I could only imagine how this would change our future relationship. Imagine, and dread…

“Why, Mr Deakins, whatever are you doing?” I opened my eyes when I heard Mistress’ voice, to see her and my tutor in a passionate clinch. As I watched, he unzipped the back of her sheath dress and it slid to the floor, leaving her in strapless bra, G-string, high heels, and nothing else. I noticed she didn’t make any move to stop him, or to stop him fondling the plump cheeks of her bottom. She just smiled.

“I remember discussion of someone needing a spank,” he said quietly, returning the smile.

“I have been a very bad girl,” she responded in what sounded like a tone of admission, or possibly submission, as she looked up at him coyly.

“Possibly so bad that just a spanking won’t do,” he went on, his finger tracing a line down her neck and across her chest, between her small breasts, “I think perhaps you need… a firm hand…” Their lips met and their mouths opened, engaging in an urgent, needy kiss, while his fingers briefly fumbled with the clasp on her bra, before releasing it and flinging the garment aside.

“Whatever you say… Sir,” she murmured huskily, making me look up in surprise, verging on shock – in all the time I’d known her, she had been nothing less than commanding, but now here she was, clearly highly aroused, giving control to this man!

She allowed him to lead her under a pair of leather cuffs, hanging from chains bolted to the ceiling, and even held her arms up, as if in supplication, whilst he buckled them tight around her wrists. It seemed that, rather than a pure Domme, as I had assumed, she was a switch.

“What are you going to do to me, Sir” she panted excitedly as he slipped the G-string down her thighs and onto the floor. He didn’t answer, but went to the bench and brought back two lengths of rope. He tied her ankles to eyebolts in the floor on opposite sides of the room, yanking the ropes tight until her feet left the ground, her legs splayed wide, her weight taken by the cuffs, hanging by her wrists.

"I'm not going to do anything to you, Maria," he smiled, "she is." They both looked at me, and I suddenly felt the weight of expectation.

"You would have my own slave whip me?" Mistress asked with incredulity in her voice, "she won't do it, not for you."

"That's why you’re going to order her to do it," Mr Deakins responded, "I order you, and you order her. It has a certain elegance to it, don't you think?"

"How humiliating," she breathed huskily.

"Yes, isn't it? The mighty Domme, reduced to begging her slave for such demeaning treatment." He came over to me, pulling me to my feet and untying my arms, then removing the gag from my mouth. He pushed me across the room until I was standing in front of Mistress. He handed me a flogger, and I realised that it was not the same one as he had used on me - the leather tails were stiffer, and ended in a small knots. This one would hurt a lot more than the one I had been thrashed with!

"Whip me," Mistress growled. I looked into her face and saw the lust under her hooded eyelids, in her flushed cheeks and wet lips.

"I can't, Mistress!" I stammered, "I can't! It will hurt too much! I…"

"Do it, cunt!" she hissed, "do it now, and do it hard!" This was so fucked up! But she had commanded me, what could I do but obey? Thoughts of all the punishment she had handed out to me, all the torment she had put me through, suddenly flooded my mind and overwhelmed any fears and doubts. I clenched my jaws, set my stance, and pulled back my arm.

The first blow landed squarely across her shoulder blades. I saw her body jerk, her back arch in response, a gasp exploding from her lips, but no scream, no begging, no curses or threats. Relaxing a little, I hit her again across the back, harder this time. She writhed in her bondage and gave out a whimper, but nothing more - she was tough! I lashed her across the buttocks twice in quick succession, forehand and backhand, starting to enjoy myself - it felt so good to be the one meting out the punishment rather than receiving it for a change. Two more lashes, on the small of her back and around her waist, and then I moved in front of her.

I looked at her face and saw that it was screwed up against the pain she was feeling. There were tears on her flushed cheeks, though I hadn't heard her crying. As she continued to squirm, pulling on the leather cuffs and the ropes holding her, I faltered, losing my nerve - I knew I was empathising with her, knowing how bad she must feel. Surely I couldn't continue?

"Keep going, Kelly, you're doing so well!" Mr Deakins said encouragingly, "don't worry about your Mistress, you know she would tell you if she wanted you to stop, don't you?" Mistress’ eyes opened and she looked at me. I could see the pain there, possibly some doubt, but she said nothing. Okay, I thought, you must really want this. I thought it was bizarre - how could anybody like being whipped? - but I hardened my heart and resolved to continue.

Now she started to scream and cry out as I rained down blows on her breasts, one-two, backhand-forehand, whip-lash, again, and again, and again. I paused, breathing hard, noticing how red her breasts had become, how they were marked, lines criss-crossing them. Her tears had redoubled, snot leaking from her nose as she sobbed desperately, her chest rising and falling as she sucked in air, trying to cope with the agony. I knew how she felt, but just then I was feeling no sympathy at all, I was out of control, overcome with the sense of power I had over this woman who had been torturing me for so long!

There was only one place left to go now. I stared between her spread thighs, looking at the thin strip of manicured pubic hair, knowing that this had to be my next and final target. I looked up and saw her head lolling on her chest in exhaustion, in submission, in defeat? She must have known what was coming, yet she said nothing. Was she really such a masochist, I wondered.

But in that moment, I decided - she might be such a masochist, but I wasn’t such a sadist. All the pain and suffering she had inflicted upon me didn't justify what I was contemplating doing to her. I knew she might punish me for whipping her, or for stopping, but I just couldn't do it anymore. I dropped the flogger on the floor and sank to my knees, my head bowed.

"Forgive me, Mistress," I said, the words surprisingly even me, "I can't do it. I won’t do it."

"You’re so weak, Kelly, no wonder you're a slave!" Mr Deakins spat, the contempt dripping from his voice. He pushed me roughly to one side, sending me sprawling, and picked up the flogger. He delivered three rapid strikes, one on each of Mistress’ hips and then one between her legs, whipping the leather fronds upwards at high speed. Mistress’ screams were loud and heartfelt.

"Merry Christmas, Maria," he said as he held her head up by her hair, "I liked my present, and I'm sure I will continue to enjoy it in our weekly tutorials next term." With that, he strode out of the room, and I heard the front door slam shut as he left.

I released Mistress from her bondage and helped her up the stairs to her bedroom.

"You did well, Kelly," she said with a weary smile, "lie down and let me help you… recover." She parted my legs and started picking the remnants of the solidified wax from my sensitive labia. I whimpered rather pathetically as she did so, but was too frightened to do anything to stop her. I was also rather stunned that she was being so nice to me. Maybe it was a hangover from her unexpected submissive state earlier.

"Oh, you poor thing!" she said sympathetically, "let Mistress kiss it better…" To my astonishment, she lowered her head between my legs and planted her lips squarely on the most tender area!

I was so tense that I let out a squeal when I felt her tongue slide between my lips and begin to move back and forth over my clitoris. What the fuck?! This was mind-blowing! It wasn't what was being done, although that was sensational enough, it was that it was my cruel, sadistic Mistress who was licking me out!

Understandably, it didn't take long for me to reach orgasm. I completely forgot myself as I approached the amazing crescendo of climax, sliding my thighs up alongside her head and squeezing, while pushing her head deeper into my cleft as if she were MY slave!

"Aaaaaaaaah! Oh, holy mother of God!!" I screamed as I came, my hips bucking as I did so. Super-sensitive after the climax, I pushed her away and curled up into a ball, trying to cope with the after-shocks as they shuddered through my body. As my heartbeat gradually returned to normal and my consciousness cleared, I started to realise just how much trouble I could be in.

"Thank you, Mistress, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I simpered, hoping to counteract some of the selfish behaviour I had displayed earlier, "your slave is so grateful for your attention!" She didn't say anything, but manoeuvred us both under the covers and spooned me, nibbling my neck until she dozed off. I was not awake much longer, but just long enough to wonder happily if this was the dawning of a beautiful new friendship between us…


And so, we come right up to date. Today it is Christmas morning, the first Christmas I have ever spent not with my family in the cosy family home, curled up in front of the fire watching old films on the TV. Not today. Today, I am lying naked on a cold stone floor, the steel collar around my neck chained to the wall. The only source of heat is the warm body of my friend, Bethany, pressed up against my back.

We are locked away in the cellar of a hunting lodge in the Scottish Highlands, rented by Master. Outside, dawn is breaking, which means that pretty soon we will be roused and set to work by McLeod, the retainer who manages the place, presumably as a joke on the tourists attracted to the area by big, beefy Scotsmen in kilts. He brings us porridge to eat for breakfast, but we have to ‘earn’ it by crawling under that kilt and relieving him of his ‘Morning Glory’.

My hopes that my relationship with Mistress had changed were quickly dashed when, the next morning, she put me back in the box from the night before, tightly bound, and sometime later, I heard Mistress talking to some delivery men. I was packed in the back of a van and driven to this place, where I was delivered and, eventually, unpacked. That was when I found out that Bethany was here as well.

"Oh my God, Beth, are you okay?" I asked as we hugged each other, by that time already having been collared and stripped. "How long have you been here?"

"A few hours," she sniffed, struggling to hold back the tears, "Master stopped me as I was heading for the train home. He made me phone my parents and yours to tell them that we were spending Christmas with friends. Then he bundled me into the boot of his car and drove me here!"

And we have been here in the two weeks since then, set to work cooking, cleaning, chopping wood. The worst thing is that we have to go outside, where the snow is lying on the ground, and collect wood from the forest - with no clothes on! It is so horrible that, on many days, my feet have been so numb that I thought I would get frostbite!

Apparently, there is to be a Christmas shoot this morning, and the guests will be arriving soon - Master's friends, colleagues, people he wants to influence, people he wants to keep quiet. Apparently, Bethany and I are to perform the job normally done by hunting dogs - whenever a bird is hit, we will be expected to run into the snow-covered undergrowth and retrieve it! I can't believe how we are being treated, what we have been reduced to!

After the shoot, there will be a banquet, at which we will be serving, probably having to provide rather more than the standard waitress service. And then, there is the evening's entertainment to be endured, followed by a long night at the beck and call of the guests…

It is certainly going to be a Christmas like none I have ever experienced before!

In these last few moments before the day begins, I contemplate my future. I have thought many times about getting out of this horrible situation, and I can see only three ways that it can end. The first is that I just tell Master that I am no longer willing to be his slave, his ‘puppet’.

I am sure that, if I did that, he would carry out the threats with which he has been blackmailing me for so long, telling all my friends and family about me, sending them pictures and videos of me performing disgusting acts, flooding the Internet with those images, and basically destroying any hopes I might have of a normal relationship with anyone, or getting a job after university - indeed, it is entirely possible that I would be thrown out of university for my behaviour, for ‘bringing the Institute into disrepute’. They would drop me like a hot potato!

I’ve thought about going to the police and reporting him for blackmailing me, or grooming me, or something. But I was an adult when we first started messaging, and he can point to written evidence where I have consented to so many things, even showing them where I have, without prompting, told him that I fantasise about being kidnapped, held to ransom, imprisoned, even treated as a sex slave. The police would just send me away and tell me not to be so stupid!

The second option is to run away. But where would I go? What would I do? And he would still ruin me by publishing all that information. I would have to somehow assume a new identity, change my name - this always seems so easy in crime dramas on TV, but I have no idea how one goes about it, I would be lost.

The third way that this might end is that he gets bored with me and just tells me he doesn't want me to be his slave anymore. I suppose that is the ideal scenario, but what happens then?

I suppose I would try to go back to my old life, try and build bridges back to my parents and friends, repairing those damaged relationships. I suppose I would continue at University, but Mistress would still be there - would she still want me as her slave? And my tutor, Mr Deakins, what about him? From what he said the last time I saw him, he seems intent on treating me as his bondage-bunny when I go back next term! Can I get out of these situations by threatening to report them to the University?

And now we come to the question which I have been avoiding for so long. Do I want to end these sick, twisted relationships? Do I want to go back to being just plain Kelly again? If I am being brutally honest with myself, I have to admit that I enjoy being a sex object. I like being the focus of somebody's fantasies. All of this makes me feel so alive, so precious, so wanted!

The life of a sex slave can be seen as hard, demeaning, degrading, involving suffering, with no real relationships, no contact with real life.

But then, is real life that great? Studying, getting a job, paying the bills, living with debt, all those decisions to be made, consequences to be weighed, the pain of relationships going wrong...

I have a fantasy. It is Graduation Day, and I am celebrating (or commiserating) with my friends, family and fellow students. Master arrives and takes me to one side. He tells me that I can go free - all I have to do is say the word and he will disappear from my life, and will never try to use any of the information he has to embarrass me or ‘out’ me to anyone.

Alternatively, I can become his slave 24/7. He will keep me, use me, take control of every aspect of my life. I will be allowed two hours a day during which I am free to contact anyone I wish using the phone, e-mail, Skype, whatever. And I will be allowed one day a month where I can do whatever I want, meet whoever I want - friends, family, or just go shopping - but I have to wear the collar he will give me at all times.

I would ask him ‘what about Bethany?’ and he would tell me that she has been given exactly the same choice, but neither of us will know what the other has decided until we have made our own decision.

He asks me for my decision. And I really don't know how I would answer…

The End

Copyright© 2014 by Jennifer Harrison. All rights reserved.