My Dutch pet

Chapter 5

The first thing you do when you leave the room you have come to think of as your bedroom is to go to the kitchen.  You are absolutely starving and cook yourself a huge plate of bacon, eggs, mushrooms etc.  The smell as it is cooking makes your stomach rumble.  You look in the fridge for some beers.  It is a long time since you drank anything other than water or piss and the thought of drinking an ice cold beer is heaven, but there is no beer in the fridge.  Fuck, ze drinkt geen bier, dat herinner ik me nu pas, ze drinkt alleen maar rode wijn en thee...., oke nu niet meer, ik ga de hele koelkast met bier vullen, en dan kan ze dat drinken of water...(Fuck, she doesn’t drink beer, now I remember; she only drinks red wine and tea.  Well not any more, I am going to fill the whole fridge with beer and she can either drink that or water).  But until you can buy some beer you will have to drink the wine.  You are determined not to drink tea.  As far as you are concerned only gay guys drink tea, and although you may have been buggered, you are not gay!  You open a bottle of wine but don’t bother to fetch a glass; taking a huge swig of wine straight from the bottle. Fucking hell, dat is vreselijk smerig (Fucking hell, that is disgusting!).  But despite the foul taste you continue drinking it anyway knowing that you will need the courage the alcohol will give you to see through to the end what you have started. 

 

When you have eaten you go upstairs to hunt for some clothes.  In the guest bedroom you find a pair of combat trousers and a pair of commando boots.  Surprisingly both are your size.  You assume they belong to an ex boyfriend of mine, who for some reason has left them behind, but you are just grateful that you have found something to fit you.  Unfortunately, there is no top to go with them.  You know that it would look strange and draw unwanted attention to yourself if you left the house in the middle of winter with no top on.  Also your slave collar would be immediately obvious to others. The only option is to look through my clothes and see if you can find anything that can be worn by a man or woman, although as I am a lot smaller than you, you doubt anything will fit.  Slowly you walk along the corridor to my bedroom.  When you reach it you hesitate at the door.  You are uncomfortable entering your Meesteres’ bedroom without permission.  As you stand there hesitating you realise how brainwashed you have become. Waar ben ik eigenlijk bang voor? ik ben niet langer een slaaf, ik zal binnenkort een vrij man zijn, als ik maar die verdomde halsband af kan krijgen.. (What am I afraid of? I’m no longer a slave, I will soon be a free man or I will be as soon as I can remove this bloody collar).  You are not sure yet how you are going to remove it as the padlock does not appear to use a key to open it, and it is too tight round your neck to be able to remove it with a hacksaw.  If you tried you would rip your neck to shreds in the process.  But you will worry about that later.

 

You push the door open, and stand there for a while looking in.  My bed dominates the room and the memories of the times we made love before you were enslaved come back to you.  It makes you feel sad when you remember, and you wonder what made me change from the kind and sweet person you met when your ship came to England, to the evil and sadistic Meesteres that I have become.  You hope that there is still some kindness inside me that you can bring to the surface again.  It would be your dream for us to return to those days.  You do not even want to think about what will happen if you can not change me.

 

Gulping back more wine from the bottle to give yourself courage you finally enter the room and moving to a chest of drawers you open the top drawer which contains my underwear.  You can not resist picking up a pair of virginal white silk briefs and smoothing them across your cheek.  The softness of them gives you a hard on, which is quite painful as your dick is still sore from being bound.   Returning them to the drawer you move to the wardrobe to find elegant clothes hanging there.   You are confused as they are completely different to the type of clothes that I always wear in front of you.  They are definitely not the sort of clothes worn by a woman who can constantly dream up new ways of inflicting pain and humiliation on another human being.  Closing the wardrobe door realising there is nothing there for you, you return to the chest of drawers.   In the third drawer down you find a pile of tops and casual T-shirts.  Selecting a plain white T-shirt. you put it on.  It stretches tightly across your torso as it is too small, but it doesn’t look too bad, and it is better than nothing.

 

Then you turn your attention back to my underwear drawer and pick up the silk briefs again.  You want to put them down but you can not help yourself holding them, they feel so soft to the touch, and the thought that I have worn them is exciting.  Without thinking about what you are doing you remove your trousers and boots and slip on the briefs.  You are surprised when they fit quite comfortably but realise that you have lost weight since being captured all those weeks ago.  Hardly surprising considering your starvation diet.  You feel embarrassed at putting them on and don’t know why you feel the urge to wear them, but you keep them on anyway and pull your trousers back up over them.

 

Conscious of the amount of time you have left me chained in the cellar you need to quickly plan what you are going to do.  It is time to look on the internet for tips on how to deal with me.  You find my computer in the study and switch it on.  Shit you need a password to log in.  You get three attempts and then the computer is locked.  You realise that you are going to have to get me to tell you the password. You wonder how the hell you are going to do that.  I am unlikely to co-operate with you. Before you do you decide to open another bottle of wine, the first one already drunk.  It takes only half an hour to drink the second bottle.  Funny how it doesn’t taste quite so disgusting after a while. 

 

When the second bottle is finished you return to the basement.  Nervously you approach me unsure what to do or say.  I can sense your fear and that gives me confidence that I will still be able to control you. The time I have been left bound has not cooled my anger.  The floor is ice cold and hard.  I have not been able to lay comfortably, every position I try to lie in makes my body ache.  I have lost the feeling in my hands because the chain is so tight it is cutting off the circulation, and I am shivering uncontrollably because I am nearly naked and the basement is freezing.  I am also desperate for a drink because the briefs you stuffed in my mouth have soaked up my saliva and my mouth is now really dry. 

 

Squatting down next to me you can see how mad I still am.  This is not going to be easy you realise.

 

‘Tracey, I want you to listen carefully to me.  If I remove your gag, will you promise not to swear or to hurl abuse at me?  I need to ask you a question.  If you answer it truthfully I will give you a drink and make you more comfortable.  If you do not do as I ask and you answer my question with a lie, I will have no choice but to force the answer from you, and I can promise you that you will not like what I will do’.

 

I have no choice but to nod my head in agreement.  I am desperate to be released, but I am also not going to give in that easily to you.  I am curious what question you need an answer to and whether I can get away with telling you a lie.  Carefully, you remove the leather strap leaving me to spit out my briefs which is difficult when my mouth and tongue are so dry.

 

‘You fucking bitch!  Have you any idea how cold I am?  I have no feeling in my hands because there is no blood left in them.  Release me now!’

 

‘Actually Tracey, I do know how cold you are,  I have spent many hours in this room myself, with no clothes on at all, and your discomfort now compared to what I have felt after many hours left alone naked in painful bondage, is nothing.  Now I warned you not to swear or shout abuse at me. I don’t think it is very kind of you to call me a bitch.  That is what you would call a slaaf (slave), and I am clearly not your slaaf am I?  Now do you want me to gag you again and leave you for longer, until you have calmed down?’

 

I am about to hurl more abuse at you when I notice what you are wearing.  I start laughing as you obviously have no idea of what wearing those trousers and boots means to me.

 

‘I am glad you find the situation so amusing Tracey, but I don’t think you will be laughing for very long’.

 

‘I’m laughing you idiot because you sit there in front of me declaring that you are not my slave, when you are wearing the slave clothes that I bought especially for you.  Now that is really funny!’

 

‘What do you mean? These combat trousers and boots have been left here by your ex boyfriend’.

 

‘What on earth gave you that idea?  Of course they don’t belong to my ex. He was a civilian not a serviceman!   Don’t you wonder why they fit you so perfectly?  It is my fantasy to have my slave wearing combats and I bought them for you.  I see that you are also wearing my T-shirt.  I bet anything you are wearing a pair of my panties as well! You must be a tranny or a poof!’ 

 

With that I start laughing again and can’t stop.  Your face turns red with embarrassment.  You feel so humiliated.  How the hell did I guess you are wearing my briefs and why did the only clothes you could find turn out to be your slave uniform.  You can’t believe that I am tied up and helpless and the one who should be scared and humiliated, but I have in fact still managed to completely humiliate you.  The two bottles of wine you drank are starting to affect you, but it is not having the same effect as beer does to you.  You don’t feel happy and relaxed; drinking the wine after so much time without alcohol, combined with the humiliation you are feeling is fuelling your anger and aggression.

 

‘You are such a bitch Tracey.  I really don’t think you have any heart left at all.  I was hoping that I would only have to talk to you to make you see sense and for you to change back into that kind girl I once knew.  But that isn’t going to happen is it?  I didn’t leave when I had the chance because I had feelings for you and hoped that over time you would come to love me and not see me as just your slave.  But my loyalty to you has counted for nothing. You have put me through hell in the time that you have owned me, and even now when you are at my mercy you still laugh at me.  Well you won’t be laughing much longer.  Let’s see how you like being a slave!!’

 

I start laughing again and without thinking about what comes out of my mouth I say ‘Fuck off Roy; you don’t have it in you. You’re just a sissy slave bitch. You couldn’t dominate me if you tried!’ 

 

I stop laughing when you slap me hard across the face.  You stand up and I assume you are going to leave me alone again, but that is wishful thinking.  I have made you really mad, and with the alcohol inside you, you are not thinking properly.  The gentle kind Roy has disappeared.  I am going to pay dearly for my treatment of you.  You open the implements cupboard and take out a pair of leather handcuffs with a small chain linking them together, and a couple of objects that I can’t see.  Returning to me you fasten the cuffs to my wrists and then remove the chain that was binding them.  The blood rushes back to my hands and fingers making them hurt like hell.  Biting my lip to stop me from crying out-I don’t want to give you that satisfaction I manage to sit up and start rubbing them together to try and get the circulation moving as quickly as possible.

 

Realising with sudden clarity the trouble I am in I grit my teeth and say pleasantly ‘Ok Roy, you’ve had your fun, now let me go and I promise that I won’t punish you for today.  I can see that you are under a lot of stress and perhaps I have been too harsh with you.  From now on, I will treat you with more respect and allow you more freedom, but you have to release me now’. 

 

It has taken a lot of effort for me to say that, and I don’t really mean a word of it.  When I am free you are going to pay big time!

 

You don’t bother to answer me; your head is so filled with anger you are not listening.  You drag me across the floor by my wrists not caring that you are hurting me in the process.  When you reach the chain with the hook attached to the end of it which is hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room you drag me to my feet and forcing my arms above my head attach the handcuffs to it.  You then remove the link from the ankle cuffs and forcing my legs wide apart attach the cuffs to separate chains and attach the other end of each chain to rings set in the floor.  While you are doing this I keep talking to you, desperately hoping that you will listen to me.  I am becoming really scared now.  When I think of the sadistic and humiliating things I have done to you in the last few weeks I am terrified at what you will do to me.  You have always been kind and gentle and seemed resigned to your fate.  I have never worried that you would turn on me.  Perhaps that was my mistake.  Maybe you are just trying to frighten me and teach me a lesson.  Surely, you will listen to me and let me go. 

 

‘Please Roy; you have made your point.  I know that I have been wrong in my treatment of you.  If you really want it I will give you your freedom.  I only bought you from the slave market because I recognised you and remembered what a lovely guy you are.  I wanted to save you from the treatment you would have received if you had been bought by an Arab woman.  They would not have been as kind as me’.

 

‘Will you shut the fuck up?  All of a sudden, now that you are in deep shit Tracey you start calling me Roy.  For weeks now all I have been called is a piece of shit, dog or slave.  You have rarely shown me any kindness, even though I have tried my best to serve you.  Now as much as I would love to hear you beg for mercy, and to hear your screams, I can’t stand your whining so I am going to gag you’. 

 

When I refuse to open my mouth for you to gag me you pinch my nose closed so that I am forced to open my mouth to breathe.  As soon as I do you force the gag into my mouth and buckle the ends so tightly I wince with the pain. 

 

Then you turn the pulley which raises the chain in the ceiling until my body is stretched so tightly I am completely immobile.  My arms and legs feel as if they are about to be pulled from their sockets the bondage is so extreme, and there is nothing I can do about it except try and cope with the agony it is bringing me.

 

You stand back to have a good look at me hanging there, with a smile on your face.  For a while you take the opportunity to caress my semi naked body, even stopping to bite none too gently on my nipples. Then you move away and return holding a small knife.  Oh my God I think you are going to kill me.  I am so terrified I start screaming but because of the gag all you can hear is a moan.  As you walk towards me I piss myself in fear.    As I am no longer wearing briefs and my legs are spread wide apart the hot liquid just gushes out from between my legs straight onto the floor to form a puddle between my outstretched legs.  My face burns with shame and I start to cry.

 

Watching me humiliate myself makes you smile again.  Reaching between my legs you catch some of it on your fingers which you then lick.

 

‘Hmmm that tastes good.  I have grown to like the taste of you Tracey.  I hope you will also like the taste of yourself because you will clean that mess up with your tongue when I am finished with you.  Oh and from now on, the only drinks you will be getting will be my plas (piss) and my sperma (semen).  Oh and I hear that recycling rubbish is popular in England, so we will recycle your plas as well, and you can drink that too.  Now I must remove your clothes.  As much as I hate to destroy that rather sexy corset you are wearing.  I can not whip you with it on and I am too lazy to undo the lacing’. 

 

You then use the knife to cut through the corset, letting it fall to the floor.  I am relieved that you do not intend to kill me, but am terrified at the thought of being whipped by you.  You may not be at full strength from the weeks of slavery you have endured but you are still a strong guy and in the mood that you are in now, you are not going to be gentle. 

 

First of all you show me the objects that you have taken from the cupboard.  They are nipple clamps.  I try and struggle to stop you putting them on my nipples but it is useless, I can’t move at all.  My arms and legs are already in excruciating pain from being so stretched so tightly and from holding my body weight, that when you put them on my nipples, although the initial pain shocks me, the feeling is nothing compared to the rest of the pain I am feeling.  You leave me hanging there for what seems like hours but is really only 10 minutes, while you look through the rest of the torture equipment I have.  Some of it, you think, might come in useful later.  You notice a butt plug, which you decide to use.  After all I have already pissed myself and you don’t want me shitting myself as well once the real pain starts.  By the time you close the cupboard door and return to me I am near to passing out with pain, but the shock of the plug being forced into my arse without lubrication rouses me immediately and I try and scream again.  Oh god this can’t get any worse! But it does.

 

The whip you select is the same one I used on your poor body the first time.  You whip me with all your strength and it is not long before my back and buttocks are bleeding and covered in angry red welts.  Screaming silently into the gag I have no choice but to endure the beating, praying at the same time that I will pass out so that the pain stops. 

 

While you are whipping me you are surprised to find that your dick is rock hard.  In your drunken and anger fuelled brain you can not see the damage you are inflicting, you are now just overcome by your desire and need to release it.  You throw the whip to the floor and lower the winch so that I collapse first to my knees and then onto my stomach, with my legs still spread wide apart and lying in my own urine. 

 

Now that you can see my pussy spread wide before you, you can not control your excitement.  You don’t even bother to pull your trousers down.  You just undo the zip and pull your dick out, giving it a few quick strokes before grabbing my hips and forcing it into me.  The tears run down my face as I sob uncontrollably into the gag, but you don’t care.  You thrust your dick deeper and deeper inside me, not caring that you are tearing my insides.  When you have cum you wipe your dick clean on my butt, showing me that you consider me to be just a whore, and then you put your dick back in your trousers, stand up and walk out of the cellar.  By now you are feeling dizzy and light headed; a combination of all the alcohol you consumed and the physical exertion.  Making your way to the living room you collapse on the sofa falling asleep instantly.

 

Meanwhile I have been left bleeding, naked and in agony still handcuffed and chained to the floor.  I am in so much pain I’m sure I will die.  I am shocked that you could be so vicious and in that moment I know what true hell is.  I have seriously underestimated you.  You are not the meek and mild mannered man I thought you were.  There is a cruel streak in you too, and I have paid dearly for my mistake.  Am I now going to pay for it with my life?  That is the last thought I have before I finally succumb to unconsciousness.