Some Call It Play

SOME CALL IT PLAY

By Charles E. Campbell

CHAPTER THREE

A SLAVE IMPRISONED

   As always, My sincerest thanks and gratitude to Master David and His slave diana for their input and inspiration. I owe this story to them.

    Our life together had gone back to the same basic routine after Marie and Her friends Lesley and Carole had departed. Quiet dinners at home, with diana naked of course. Weekend forays into north western Connecticut to go antiquing, or visiting fall festivals in small tucked away villages and quaint towns.

   I was fascinated by diana’s areola and nipple rings. Maybe mesmerized would be a more accurate term. I couldn’t stop looking at them, touching them, and tugging on them. I was infatuated by them. I have always found the female body to be a wonderland of amazement, what with it’s soft curves and contours, graceful hills and dales like gently rolling countryside. But I have always been most particularly drawn to the female breast. The round soft globes projecting outward from the body, Free. Independent. Welcoming, reassuring, offering. A place of respite from strife. Calming, begging for caresses, both gentle and harsh. Now, all the more intriguing and beguiling with the steel piercing them.

   I constructed a leather harness for diana to wear, made from stout and stiff cowhide. Like a thick heavy belt. It went over her shoulders and  across her back, much like a brassiere, which is, in fact, what served as a template for the harness. Leather encircled her breasts, with a tripled thick studded section placed directly between the orbs. From this, I had attached apiece of threaded 1/4 by 20 rod, held fast with lock washers and nuts. I took apart a pinch type skirt hanger and soldered some large fender washers together on it. A simple, and yet, highly effective way to camp her nipples, and then, by screwing a wing nut on the rod, pull the breasts straight out from her chest, defying gravity. The sprigs on the clamps were very strong, crushing her areolas between their smooth jaws. Many a night, diana would dine with the cruel instrument of torture working it’s magic for My enjoyment. Lifting and pulling her breasts taut, stretching them to their limits. Often she would be reduced to whimpers and sobs between bites of food, but never once did she balk or refuse when I would produce the harness and watch silently as she would put it on, and buckle it in place herself! Most nights, I would make her clamp her areolas herself as well, and even tighten the wing nut. I was usually very pleased with the outcome, as she would generally tighten it much more than I would consider feasible.

   There just seem to be times when the fates work together, out of the clear blue, and provide My imagination with the necessary jump start for new ideas and creative ways to broaden the horizons for My slave and Myself. One afternoon, on the Wednesday before the Columbus Day weekend, I ran into my next door neighbor as I was leaving for school. He informed Me that he and his wife would be going out of state to visit their daughter for Parent’s Weekend at college. They would be catching a flight Thursday night, and get in early Tuesday morning.  He wondered if I could bring in his mail on Friday and Saturday. I assured him that it was no problem and that I would. That same evening, we received a phone call from our neighbor on the other side of our house, informing us that they were going to be leaving for the coast first thing in the morning to attend a wedding out there. They told us they wouldn’t return home until Monday night, late. They wanted to know if they could trouble us to take in their mail and feed their house cat. Two vacant houses on either side of ours! My mind began to work in overdrive.

   Where diana and I live, the houses are all set on perfect 80 x 120 foot rectangular lots. Each house is the same distance from the street, each front yard and back yard the same size and dimensions. Both of our neighbors have stockade fences surrounding their back yards, demarcating their little slice of Americana, due to their having pools. This inadvertently gives us decent privacy when they aren’t home. The houses on our side of the street all abut the golf course for a private country club, A perfect scenario!

   Thursday night, I surprised diana by taking her out to dinner at a quiet bistro near the college. A music major from the school was moonlighting on piano, taking requests and working for tips. As we sipped our after dinner coffee together, and tried to play “stump the band” with the young musician, I anno8unced to diana that she was going to endure a weekend of forced slavery. From the time when she got home on Friday evening, until sunset Monday, she would be an imprisoned slave. Bound, beaten, and used. Her face flushed over as I stated the terms to her so matter-of-factly in public. No one overheard Me, but she was quite flustered nonetheless.

   I have a late class on alternating Fridays, so I didn’t get home until after 6:00. l

Like a good and proper slave, diana greeted Me at the door when I arrived, naked, except for her collar. Iron shackles on her wrists and ankles. A good omen by any standards.

   I left her kneeling in the vestibule, saying nothing to her, as I hung. up My jacket and headed for My chair in the living room. After a couple of minutes, I called out, “Come to your Master, slave girl diana.”

  Diana crawled on her hands and knees into the living room and knelt at My feet, her eyes closed, knees spread wide, mouth slightly open, and her arms folded behind her back.

  Patiently, I let the tension build before pronouncing sentence. Her body  was already quivering from the discomfort of kneeling in that position.

   “Slave, I have decided that you are to be an imprisoned slave for the duration of the weekend. From this moment, until sundown Monday, you are not to speak to me unless I grant you permission, You are not to look in My face. But rather whenever  your eyes are not closed or blindfolded, they are to search out My cock to search out My cock You will do exactly as you are told, without question or hesitation, or else you will be soundly punished. You will please me in whatever manner I wish, and you will do it with pride and enthusiasm, or you will be beaten. I want you to know, that it is My intention to beat you until I draw blood. This is something that should give you a great sense of pride. I may even entertain inflicting permanent damage to some part of your body. I want to hear you grant Me consent to harm you, even though we both know I do not need it.”

   Diana opened her eyes slowly, and looked straight at the bulge in my gabardine slacks as she said, “If it will please You, Master, I want nothing more than for You to do with me as You wish, even if it means causing permanent damage to me, or even causes me to bleed. I will be filled with pride that You find it desirable enough to do so. If I happen to scream, or beg You for mercy, I humbly ask that You show me none, for I am not worthy of such consideration. I am Your slave, and I only exist to be of service to You.”

   “So it shall be, slave.” I bent over and gently cupped her chin in My left hand, lifting her face up. In response, she re-closed her eyes, probably expecting a loving kiss. But instead, I hit her hard with a back hand slap across the mouth, sending her sprawling on the floor, blood trickling from the cut in her lip.

   The force of my attack made Me recoil at first. The slap had been harder than I intended, and over the top for us. Her split lip was already getting puffy, and blood was building in the cut. I wanted, no, rather, I needed to check to see if I had really hurt her, but I didn’t want to break the mood I had established. I knelt between her played legs and pushed My fingers into her pussy. It wasn’t just moist, it was soaking wet! She was turned on! I continued to probe her hole roughly, all the while rubbing her clit hard with My thumb, extracting moans immediately. Release for her was, of course, quite out of the question. I did, however bring her to the brink several times before offering her My hand to her mouth for cleansing.

   As she regained her composure, I decreed, “From this moment forward, you will not leave your hands and knees, unless you are directed to stand. Walking erect like a human being is strictly forbidden. Slaves are the lowest of creatures, and therefore, they are meant to crawl. Also, you will neither eat, nor drink, unless I tell you to, and then, you will only eat and drink what I provide for you. Lastly, your toileting needs will be decided by Me. Slaves are chattel, and are expected to take care of their toilet needs outdoors, and then, only when given permission. They do not, however, ask for permission. They are to relieve themselves only on command.

   “Am I understood?”

   “Yes, Master,” she replied meekly, the rules sinking in. She knew full well that our backyard would be her only toilet for the whole weekend, and she was terrified by the prospect of being seen naked outside. Even without our neighbors here, the constant stream of golfers on the course over the long weekend would surely provide a lot of voyeurs.

   “Meet Me in the garage, slave,” I ordered, turning heel and leaving her.

   I went to the garage and found an old tackle box that My sone and I used to use when he was little and I would take him fishing on the Hudson. I blew the dust off the top after pulling it free from the shelf. Opening it, I found what I was looking for. Lead sinkers.

   Diana arrived a minute or so after Me. Our garage is detached from the house, and so she had to crawl out of the house, down the steps, across a short patch of lawn, and then through the blue stone pebbles that the driveway is made of.

   Just as she reached Me, I commanded, “Kneel slave!”

   Diana complied right away, kneeling at My feet, making sure to spread her legs apart and fold her hands behind her head. I took some of the sinkers and clipped them to her four piercings in her nipples and areolas. Not too much weight, mind you, but just enough to give her something to focus on when I wasn’t paying attention to some part of her lovely body.

  “Go and light the grill, I want to eat.”

   “Yes Master she intoned, and crawled off to the patio grill.

   I have the grill set in concrete on the edge of the patio at furthest point from the house. Anyone on the golf course would have but to look into the yard to see it, and her, and she knew it!

   I stayed in th garage for a bit, replacing the tackle box on the shelf, before joining her on the patio. She had just gotten the grill going when I got there, “I want your mouth, slave. Worship My cock!”

   Diana reached over and undid the belt and then the buttons on My Levis. She pulled down the jeans and shorts in one fluid motion. Folding her arms behind her back, she sucked me into her mouth. The soft wet mouth greeted Me, as she licked the underside of the shaft, taking Me as deep as she could without gagging. I savored the sensations of her tender ministrations, but had no intentions of cumming just yet, so I pulled out and wiped saliva on her face.

   While my marinated chicken and veggie kabobs were grilling, I made a modest tossed salad. Diana knelt passively on the patio, her hands folded behind her head in the twilight.

   I dined at the wrought iron table, with My slave underneath it, fellating Me lightly Occasionally, I would pass a scrap of food to her, just like one might a favorite pet. She would open her mouth and accept it, and then return to her primary use and function as a cock sucker.

   When I was full, I placed my plate with it’s food scraps on the patio. She took her cue, bending over and eating the meager fare. I dumped the remainder of my glass of water into My salad bowl and placed it on the ground as well. I enjoyed hearing the sounds of her slurping and lapping as she struggled to ingest the mixture of water, oil, and vinegar.

   I longed on the chaise, relaxing, as diana cleaned the grill and did the dishes. Her tasks completed, she returned and knelt at My feet, awaiting further commands.

   “Go to our dungeon, and prepare yourself for Me, slave,” I ordered.

   “As You command., Master,” she replied. I could detect enthusiasm in her tone of voice, and it made Me swell with pride. I certainly intended to put that to the test.

    I stayed on tne patio until well after dark, a good forty minutes, before going into the house and down to the basement to see what awaited Me.

   “Nicely done,” slave, I complimented her upon entering the dungeon. “You have made Me happy!”

  “Thank you, Master,’ came her mumbled response from around a large penis gag she had strapped into her mouth.

   All of the dungeon candles had been lit. The electric lighting was soft and muted, just enough to enhance the flickering candles. An array of whips had been chosen and lovingly laid out on the table next to the St. Andrew’s Cross. She had put iron shackles on her wrists and ankles, using old locks to secure them in place. Her thickest butt plug was straining her rear hole, and she waited on all fours, her face to the floor, for My commands.

    I took My time, enjoying the sight as I slowly walked around her, watching her breath, studying every preparation she had made. A slight quiver was bouncing her weighted breasts ever so slightly. She was frightened, which was good. Anticipation is a good thing. She had no idea what I had planned for us.

   As I made My way around her for the third time, I quietly picked up a stiff flogger. Her face was on the floor, so she never saw Me pick it up. I stepped over her, straddling her shoulders. Lifting the flogger, I brought it down on her ass as fast and hard as I could, unannounced. Three fast slashes driving her yelling to the hard concrete floor.

   “Hold your ground, slave,” I admonished her sternly. “Take what I give to you!”

   She got back on all fours, face to the floor, and steeled herself. She didn’t have long to wait, a I slashed at her ass, left than right, left and right. Her cheeks first pale white, then becoming a tangle of pink stripes, and finally dark reds. Swollen lines intersecting all over her buttocks and the backs of her thighs.

   The both of us were now bathed in sweat before I stopped. “Knell,” I ordered her, panting. She got up on her knees with her eyes closed. I moved toward her and brushed her lips with the zipper of My jeans. “No hands, slave. Caress Me.”

   I undid the buckle on her penis gag and pulled it from her mouth, before undoing my belt.

   It was a struggle for her to undo the button on My Levis, but finally, at long last, her perseverance paid off, and she got it open. Then she took the zipper between her teeth and pulled it down. She had to alternate sides to get the jeans and shorts down. Sensually, she licked a thick dollop of pre-cum from the slit in My cock, before taking it deeply all at once. I grabbed her hair in back of her head with both hands and pulled her face into My groin, forcing My cock as deep as it could go. She was gagging and chocking, even retching a few times, but I kept My cock buried, giving her no respite from the oral assault. Yellowish bile was leaking from the corners of her mouth around My cock and dripping to her breasts.

   Wanting to maintain My own high level of intensity, I abruptly pulled out before cumming, and wiped the slobbery mess from My coated cock onto her face, all around her eyes. “Get on the rack, slave. Face up.”

   “Yes, Master.” She got up on all fours again and crawled across the concrete to the rack. She got up on the rack and laid down on the rough splintered wood that makes the bed, stretching her arms up. Offering. Waiting for the chains that would be attached to her wrist and ankle shackles, binding her to the primitive, but cruel instrument of her torture.

   I chained her down and began turning the wheel, pulling her arms up and away from her legs. I watched as her breasts began to flatten out on her chest, the gauge I use to determine how tight to make it. Satisfied that she was very uncomfortable, but not in too much pain, I locked the wheel in place, and went to the wall for a heavy leather strop. Her breasts were now going to be the center of My attention. I wanted them not pink or even red. I wanted them to be bruised. Severely bruised to black and blue. I didn’t replace the penis gag because I wanted her screams to fill the room. I wanted, needed to see if I would be able to continue to viscously beat her through her cries, tears, screams, and pleas for mercy. This was to be a test of her resolve. My resolve. Our resolve.

   There were to be no soft caresses. No warm up strokes letting her get accustomed to the feel of the heavy strop. There would be no teasing. No making her wait, or count the strokes. Instead I began right away, flailing at the taut tender mounds, alternating left breasts, right breast, top, bottom, inside outside. No pattern to the strokes. No way for her to even begin to anticipate where the next would strike. Sometimes I would hit the exact same spot five or six times in a row. Tears were pouring from her eyes as her head tossed back an forth in wild abandon. Screams like none I had ever heard filled the dungeon as I flailed away.

   Her breasts quickly passed from pink to red, then purple, as the tight pulled skin erupted in searing fiery pain. Guttural animal sounds began to replace the screams as she succumbed to the beating. I did not ease up. Not even once. Doling out over one hundred strokes. All hard. Never a pause or brief respite from the attack.  Pushing her/our limits as far as I dared go.

   When finally, at last, I decided she had taken enough, I laid down the strop on the rack, and left the dungeon, leaving her bound to the rack. But before making My exit, I unlocked the wheel, and ratcheted it up tighter by two clicks, hearing her moan as the pressure in her joints intensified. I went upstairs to the kitchen for a tall glass of ice water. I had really worked up quite a sweat from the exertion and My efforts. Sipping the cool refreshing liquid, I indulged in a crossword puzzle, taking My mind from the plight of My imprisoned slave, and extending her time alone, to think and assess, bound to the rack in our candle lit dungeon.

   As is the norm for crossword puzzles and me, I quickly became completely engrossed in it, and lost track of time. I even got up once to refill My glass of water. It was just about forty-five minutes before I returned to the dungeon to visit My bound slave.

   Diana’s eyes were closed when I got to her, but she was not asleep, just trying to cope with the pain. The pressure in her arms, hips and legs would never allow sleep. Her eyes opened slightly as I softly tugged on her left nipple, they sought out My cock. Their Master.

   In silence, I loosened the wheel and unlocked the chains. “Kneel,” I commanded, trying to sound apathetic to her sufferings.

  With obvious effort, diana pushed herself off the rack, and knelt before Me.

   “Is My slave thirsty,” I inquired?

   “Oh yes, Master. Terribly.”

   “Then open your mouth!”

   She knew what I meant right away. Her face registered it instantly. Something she detests even more than anal sex. She closed her eyes and slowly opened her mouth. I slipped My flaccid cock between her lips and began to piss. I could see her working hard to swallow the warm acrid amber liquid as it streamed into her mouth. The second cup of coffee I had at dinner insured a copious flow to sate her thirst.

   When My bladder had emptied, I let her keep Me in her mouth, sucking out any last drops, before pulling away. Looking down, I was able to see the damage I had caused to her breasts with the strop. Swollen and badly bruised, they would be very tender for quite some time, I was sure, making even the softest garment an agonizing torment for her to remember our weekend together. I pulled the weights a little, and let them drop. My cock now hard again, and aching for release. I fucked her face. Driving deep and puling all the away out with each thrust. Diana was retching as I sought to invade past her tonsils. It wasn’t long before I was startling to cum. I yanked My cock from her mouth and plastered her face with thick strands of warm cum. I shot it in her eyes, in her hair and across her cheeks.

   “Go,” I ordered her, pointing to the cross.

   She crawled wordlessly to the foot of the cross. I locked her left ankle to the base of the cross and then lifted her chin up close to My face. I spit on her face. “Sleep well, My pet!”

   Tonight she would enjoy no comfort. She was to sleep on the cold concrete floor, licking her wounds. No blanket or pillow. Alone in the dim fading light, as one by one, the candles would burn out, leaving her in the pitch black darkness of our dungeon.

   I hit the light switch just as I closed the heavy door, and locked it closed.

   After luxuriating in the soothing steam of a hot shower, I sat up reading for a while before turning in. Amazingly, I slept like a baby, alone in our bed, while My wife, My imprisoned slave, spent a fitful night on the floor of our dungeon. Her weighted and aching breasts a constant reminder of the night’s events, and a threatening portent of the two days yet to come.

   I awoke to an absolutely gorgeous sunny autumn day. I got up quickly, not wanting to waste any of the day sleeping. Big plans were in store for diana and I, and I wanted to get right to them. Jeans and a flannel shirt donned in haste, and I went straight down to the basement. Diana was in a semi sleeping state. I could tell by the dark circles under her eyes that she had gotten little or no sleep at all.

   Keeping in character, she only looked at My crotch as I unlocked her ankle chain. “Time for the slave to toilet,” I decreed. “I’ll meet you in the back yard.”

   I headed up the stairs and sat on a patio chair to await her arrival, like a dog on all fours. There was a crisp bite to the breeze as the mid October chill was hinting at the cold winter that was rapidly approaching.

   A few minutes after I had sat down, diana crawled out of the house. Quite obviously stiff and sore and in a lot of discomfort, she slowly crawled across the flagstones to where I was seated. I just pointed nonchalantly to the loosened, dug up soil, that was her litter. Her face reddening, she crawled into the dirt, spread her legs and began to pee. It was her first time to pee in over twelve hours, and the stream was strong and long, splattering urine soaked mud onto her legs. Finished, she began to crawl out of the litter, when I chided her, “ That’s all you need to do, slave? This could very well be your last opportunity for most of the day, unless I’m feeling generous.” Mortified, she stayed stock still in the urine mud puddle. I could tell she was concentrating as hard as she could on the humiliating task at hand. Finally, her ass bud began to swell, and a large turd emerged, falling into the soft dirt, as her sphincter forced it free.

   “You may wipe your ass in the lawn,” I offered, “Bit remember, slaves are not to use their hands!”

   Diana crawled out of the dirt, small clops of it clinging to her legs, ever so cautious as to avoid her smell dropping. She sat on the lawn and dragged her ass across the dewy grass by way of cleaning herself. She was totally broken now. Her most private bodily functions were now those of a common animal.

   Out oif the corner of My eye, I spied some early golfers on the far fairway. They were over 100 yards away, so unless they were fully aware that a naked female was in our yard, there was no way they could have just noticed her at that distance. I knew, as I know diana did too, that it was just going to be a matter of time before they got to the closest fairway to our yard, and would then be hard pressed to not see her if she remained outdoors. (Which was exactly what I had planned for her today.)

  I had diana stay on the patio while I prepared our breakfasts. Different breakfasts, of course. After all, she was an imprisoned slave, not a treasured house pet. While I enjoyed a fruit cocktail, whole wheat toast with jam, orange juice and black coffee, diana’s repast was cold oatmeal, no milk on it, dry burnt toast and tepid tap water. All of which was consumed on her hands and knees, face in the bowls, no hands allowed for feeding.

   I read the morning paper at the table on the patio, savoring a third cup of coffee, diana underneath the table, savoring My cock. When I was through reading the paper, without allowing her to finish Me, I said to her, Wait here,” and I got up to go to the garage. I retrieved a bag I had purchased the previous day from a local nursery, containing over two hundred spring bulbs. Returning to My kneeling slave, I ordered her to plant the bulbs around the perimeter of the yard. I stressed that it was to be the entire perimeter, meaning that the section closest to the golf course was not to be avoided. I informed her that I had some errands to see to, and that I would expect that she would complete her chore by the time I returned.

   I saw the trepidation on her face. The thought of being alone and naked in the yard. I had thought I would lock the house and garage to insure that she remained outside, but thought better of it. Leaving her to struggle with the choice of disobeying Me and seeking shelter in her nudity would only serve to heighten the experience for her.

   I left her and went off to the lumberyard. I had some modifications in mind for the stocks in the dungeon and I needed some supplies to make them.

   I purchased an old worn oaken pallet, very used and chewed up, two pairs of hinges, and a can of dark stain to match the color of the stocks. My intention was to build a box to encase her feet in when she was pilloried, so that she would have a lot less mobility when confined in the stocks.

   I got home earlier than I had expected, and was gladdened to see diana kneeling in a garden bed, only three feet from the property line, where the fairway runs along side. I walked over to check on her progress, and was pleased at how filthy the work was making her. The cooler air of the early morning had been giving way to a pleasantly warm day, and a sheen of sweat had captured the dusty soli as she dug and planted.

   “Almost done, slave?”

   “I still have five more packages to plant, Sir. Then your slave will be done.”

   “I’ll be in the garage. Join Me when you have finished.”

   “Yes, Sir!”

    Since the basement to dungeon conversion, My workbench was now located in a corner of the garage. I set about drawing up plans for the box and cutting the wood from the old skid pallet.

   I had been thinking about the problem the box was being designed to correct for quite some time. I wanted it both functional and not looking like an after thought to the stocks. What required the most thought were the calculations on the optimum distance diana’s feet should be from the pedestal, how far apart it should holes her feet, the diameter of the openings for her ankles, allowing of course for shackles. Additionally, I wanted it to be uncomfortable for her to be locked in. Not necessarily painful, but a nuisance presence.

   I built the bottom of the box out of the rough and splintered slats of the pallet. No sanding required. Chaffing and abrasions caused by her own movements were what I wanted. I placed the slats far enough apart so that her feet would have to bridge over two of them, resting on the wood, but not able to get between them and rest on the floor. The sides of the box were simple, as they’re sole purposes were structural support raising the top of the box high enough to restrict her ankles above a pair of iron shackles. I sawed half moon cut outs into the top slats, screwing the hinges onto one of the cut outs. This would make it easier for Me to place her in and remove her from the device, and, at the same time, insuring a snug fit, so that escape would be an impossibility. A simple hasp was all that I needed too hold the half moons together, I had the option to use locks, but they would only be for aesthetics. With her neck and wrists secured in the stocks, it would be impossible for her to reach and release the hasps anyway. Two long pieces of would to anchor the box to the pedestal, a coat of stain, and it was done.

   Diana crawled into the garage just as I started applying the stain. Not wishing to spoil the surprise, I said, “Toilet yourself, slave, and wait in your litter for Me.”

   Crestfallen, she crawled back outside to pee. I watched through the side window of the garage. Her humiliation a huge turn on for Me.

   The stain applied, I carried the box to the dungeon, and with the aid of a drill, a wrench, and some bolts, I got it all set up. The christening would be tonight!

   I ate lunch on the patio, diana servicing Me under the table. A nice tuna salad sandwich and iced tea for Me. Left over stale oatmeal, cold burned toast and tepid water for the prisoner. Occasionally, as I ate and she sucked, I toyed with her bruised and battered breasts, Tweaking, pinching and puling on the weights. She whimpered around My cock, her sore tender breasts ultra sensitive to the attention I gave them.

   After lunch, I went back to the tackle box in the garage and took out a few more sinkers. Clipping them to her breasts, I ordered her to do some calisthenics in the yard. I kept her facing the house, back to the golf course as I watched from the patio chaise lounge. This let Me see the reactions of the golfer as they spotted her movements.

   I ran her through a wide gamut of exercises: sit ups, push ups in the litter box, squat thrusts, jumping jacks, deep knee bends, jogging in place.... In short, the works. Her breasts tormented by the added weights as they bobbed up and down and bounced around. She was sweating profusely by the time I allowed her to stop. A drink from the garden hose, a glance at My watch, and I was ready for her next humiliation. “Follow Me to the kitchen, slave!”

   Happy to get out of the open yard, she crawled as quickly as her scraped hands and knees would allow. She had no idea what was in tore for her inside.

   As she knelt passively on the tile floor in the kitchen, promptly at 2:00, the front door bell rang.

It startled her, and she jumped instinctively, cowering, she scanned the room for someplace to hide. “Well, answer it, slave. It isn’t polite to keep someone waiting at the door.”

   Tears welled in her eyes, but she kept her stare at My crotch, “Oh please. Not this. Please, Master. I beg You! Anything. I’ll do anything, j.....just please don’t make me do this.”        

   I slapped her across the face, hard. She fell on the floor. “How dare a slave ever think to question her Master. You will be dealt with, dealt with severely for this gross insubordination. Is this the level of trust you have in Me?”

   Instantly, she saw the error of her ways and bent over to kiss the top of My shoe. “P.....Please forgive Your worthless slave, M....Master. I.....I’m sorry.”

   The bell rang a second time, and she crawled, obediently, and broken, to the front door. “I expect a proper and polite greeting to anyone,” I called to her, watching her pussy peek through her crotch. “Yes, Sir, she returned over her shoulder.

   It was very hard for Me to not follow on her heels to the door, it was important that she face this alone, having no sense of false security in My presence. But I did follow at a distance, wanting to witness first hand her embarrassment. The bell rang again, twice in quick succession, indicating that the caller was rapidly losing patience. Diana arrived at the door, knelt, and opened it wide, her head bowed, and her hands folded behind her head. “I am slave diana, how may I service you,” she asked, not looking up.

   I had been expecting someone at the door, but the people who were on My stoop were strangers to Me. It was a very well dressed black couple. Jehovah’s Witnesses, hawking their pamphlets and beliefs. They stood agog at the spectacle of the naked slave, her badly bruised breasts, rings, and weights. When diana heard no response to her query, she looked up and saw the shock on the couple’s faces, as they blanched and turned heel in haste. I saw diana’s head sag as she shut the door and started to crawl back to Me. But before she even got out of the vestibule, the bell rang again. Resigned, she turned to open the door once more.

   This time, she knelt and only opened the door a crack, opting to peek around the door, using it to her advantage as a modesty device. “I am slave diana, she whispered meekly from behind the door. How may I serve you?”

   “I do not speak to closed doors, cunt!” came the severe reply. “Open this fucking door now, if you know what’s good for you, and exhibit yourself to Me with pride!” The voice was a woman’s, and it was anything but gentle and understanding. In the very least, it was agitated and extremely angry. Diana jerked the door open wide and kept her face pointed to the floor.

   The woman said nothing. She wanted to make diana wait with the door open. A door, which I might add, is a mere ten feet from the -public sidewalk, which is only four feet from the curb and the street.

   Brusquely, the woman brushed past diana and entered our home, looking for Me, fire in her eyes. “David, I am not at all pleased with the manners of Your slave. I strongly suggest that You make her aware of her impertinence. Either that, or it will leave me no alternative than to do it for You! Her actions are a disgrace! Deplorable!”

    “Please, Francine. Accept My apologies,” I soothed her. “Her training has only recently begun in earnest. The last two months is all. She has made immeasurable strides. She has a long way to go yet. I know that, but if you could have seen some of the barriers we have torn down, the progress we have made, I’m sure you would agree.”

   Francine stared at diana as she crawled into the living room and knelt quietly, legs spread apart, hands folded behind her back, head down. Francine scrutinized My slave, paying particular attention to her severely bruised breasts. “You seem to have been busy with these,” she commented reached down to fondle diana’s left breast. “They could be made to color more, You know.”

   “I do, Francine. As a matter of fact, I am planning to redouble My efforts in that regard tonight.”

   “I’ll expect pictures.”

   “Certainly. It would be My pleasure.”

   Francine kept her eyes on diana, but reached into her mammoth oversized shoulder bag and extracted a small box. “I believe this will suit Your needs, David,” she said, passing the box to Me.

   I took it from her hand and sat down on the couch to open it up. Inside there was a nine inch length of stainless steel chain, constructed of small delicate looking links. I hold it up from one again, mentally picturing it’s effect.

   “Would you be so kind as to do the honors, Francine. It would mean a lot to me, and to My slave as well.”

   Francine took the chain back from me and said, “On your back, cunt. Spread your legs wide. Bring your feet up so your heels touch your ass. Keep your hands at your sides. Move even once, and I’ll flog those ugly breasts until they bleed!”

   Francine knelt between diana’s legs and extracted a small pair of jeweler’s needle nose pliers from her bag. Using the pliers, she removed the disk from the clit ring, and attached it to one end of the chain. She then fastened the other end of the chain to the clit ring. It took less than a minute and she was done. “Stand and present yourself, slave,” she said.

   Diana stood stiffly, it was the first time she had been on two feet for almost a day. As she stood, she made sure she spread her legs apart and folded her hands behind her head. The disk was now dangling freely from her clit hood, stretching the skin, and, thanks to the chain, the disk now hung almost midway down her thigh.

   I offered My guest fresh baked pumpkin pie and coffee, and she accepted My offer. “Slave, escort My guest to the patio and see to it that she is seated and comfortable, while I prepare the refreshments.”

   “Yes, master.” diana crawled toward the kitchen and the back door, her face reddened knowing that her naked flanks were providing such a nice view to a perfect stranger. The weights hanging from her tits swung back and forth as she moved.

   I got the coffee going and sliced some pie while it brewed. “Ice cream, Francine,” I called through the screen door?

   “Ah, no thank You, David. The pie and coffee will be just fine, thank You.”

   I carried a tray with the refreshments out to the patio, and was greeted by the sight of My slave kneeling facing Francine, who was toying with the nipple rings, swinging the weights, and just generally causing diana a great deal of discomfort.

   As I set the tray down on the table, I asked, “cream or sugar?”

   “Just black, thank You,” she answered still tormenting diana. “How broken is she, David,” Francine asked, lifting and dropping the weights repeatedly,,and studying diana’s reaction.

   “I think she has made fantastic strides Francine. Amazing really, when you take into consideration how short a time she has spent in training. Watch!

   “Slave. Toilet!” I pointed to her litter.

   I could read the embarrassment in diana’s eyes, and the way they pleaded to me to not make her do this, but she crawled into the smelly muddy dirt anyway. I know Francine didn’t pick up on the nuance in diana’s face, but I did. Squatting down on all fours, she peed, with her ass facing us, so we had a clear view of the golden stream.

  “You’re not done, bitch,” Francine admonished her. “Finish your toilet. Modesty does not become a slave at all!”

   Diana bent slightly at the waist and started to push. Her tight read hole began to blossom as a small turd was forced out and fell to the mud between her legs. She remained in the litter waiting for another command. Francine ignored her plight, and sampled the pie and sipped her coffee.

  I followed suit, and started to eat as well. Francine leaned over to Me and whispered, so diana couldn’t hear, “I’m having a small gathering tonight, David celebrating my latest book release. It’s small, maybe twenty people r so, at Koenig’s Bavarian Haus. I would adore it if You could join us.”

    “Thank you for the invitation, Francine, but regrettably, I must decline. I am keeping diana as an imprisoned slave for the weekend, and I don’t want to leave her unattended.”

   “I’m sorry,” she jumped in quickly. “I musn’t have made myself clear. I would like You and Your slave to attend. She can be clothed, or naked, as You wish. Chained, shackled, unfettered, leashed, collared, whatever You prefer. Whatever You feel would be appropriate.”

   I gave it a moment’s thought and then I agreed, but with one stipulation.

   “Of course, David. What would You need?”

   “My slave is not to be spoken to, or touched, except by you or Me. She is to be treated like a decoration, an inanimate object, a piece of art even. Nothing more.”

   “I couldn’t agree more, David, but I don’t think I could completely control people touching her. Just as one might run their hand over an antique table to feel the finish, or someone might pick up an object to examine it more closely.”

   “I see what you mean. That would be acceptable, I think. But I want absolutely no penetration, no sex. I want it to be like the scene in Story Of O at the end, when Sir Stephen takes her to the Commander’s party. I want diana to feel like O did. ”

   “Agreed. How is 9:30?”

   “Fine, thank You.

   “This could provide some excellent training for her. I haven’t really displayed her. Just My sister and two of her friends and you so far.”

   “This crowd will be perfect, then. None of them are lifestylers.  Mostly just trendy elitist wannabe types. They’ll be stumbling over how they should react what response they should give to seeing a naked slave in their midst. It should be fun times for all!”

   “9:30, then, and I’ll use your mask.

   “Oh, I have one more thing to show you before you leave.

   “Slave, come here,” I ordered.

  Francine and I watched as diana negotiated her way through the messy litter and crawled to My feet. I stood up and asked, “Thirsty?”

   I spied a tear form in her eye as she undid My jeans pulled the pants and shorts down, and sucked My cock into her mouth.

   I started pissing right away, pleased with diana’s  efforts to consume all of the elixir I was proving her with.

   “I’m quite impressed< David,” Francine commented as she watched My slave drinking My piss. “Have You given any consideration to going 24/7 with her?”

   “Yes I have Francine, as a matter of fact. I have given it quite some thought. I’m not too sure if she’s ready for the level of commitment that would require, though, but she’s definitely headed in that direction.”

    Francine pulled her over sized shoulder nag up from the ground and set it in her lap. Rummaging through it, she took out a small lavender velvet box and passed it to Me, just as diana was finishing with her drink. “These would be much more appropriate foir this evening, I would think, than those fishing weights. They’re quite excellent for training, they help You keep tabs on Your slave, and are more fashionable as well.”

   The box contained a small dainty pair of silver bells with clips to attach them to the piercings in diana’s nipples. “These are lovely, aren’t they, slave,” I asked as I held them in diana’s face for her to see.

   “Yes, Sir, they are.

   “Thank you, Ma’am, for your kindness and generosity,” she added politely.

   “Wait here for Me,” I told diana and I walked Francine down the driveway to the street. We finalized our plans for the evening, and she left. I took diana to the dungeon as I wanted to freshen up the marks on her body before allowing her to get cleaned up for the night. I whipped the fronts and backs of her thighs with a riding crop, giving her a series of strips. I used a rattan cane on her ass, welting and discoloring the mounds. I used the strop again on her breasts. They were still very sore from the whipping they had received only eighteen hours previously, so it didn’t take much effort to get them fiery red and angry looking. Some of the welts had swollen and ruptured, seeping blood.

   I chained diana to the base of the St. Andrew’s Cross again, and said, “Get some sleep. We’re going out tonight for a little celebration. A sort of parole from your imprisonment.”        

   A quizzical look on her face told me she hadn’t heard any of the plans Francine and I had concocted.

   At seven, I returned for her and unlocked her chains. I sent her to the shower and told her to get cleaned up. I added that I expected her to be made up completely, in the most elegant and slutty manner. I expected her to be in the living room by 8:45, dressed like a whore, wearing her new bells, and iron shackles on her wrists and ankles.

   I was already showered and ready to leave, having taken care of all that while diana slept. I was dressed casually in a pair of tan corduroy slacks ands a collared blue shirt, no tie, with dark brown leather cowboy boots. I knew diana would look out of place dressed as she would be, but that was of no consequence, as I had no intention of allowing her to remain dressed anyway.

   She met Me promptly at 8:45, looking like a common street walker. A tight tube top, exposing her bare midriff, a short tight skirt, with the disk and chain peaking below the hem, stockings and garter belt, and high open toed black heels. She was heavily made up. Eye shadow and liner thickly applied, rich ruby red lipstick caked on. She reeked of perfume. I could see clearly the outline of her breast jewelry and the bells through the stretchy material of the tube top.

   “You may walk on your feet, upright, for this evening, slave. Consider it a temporary pardon, a reprieve if you like, as a reward for your excellent behavior so far in your imprisonment weekend.

   “At the party tonight, you are to speak to no one. Even if they speak directly to you, or ask you a question. You are only to respond to Francine or Me, and even then, only if we grant you express permission. Understood?”

   “Yes, Master,” she answered, taken aback from My stating that Francine was going to be wherever it was that we were going. I helped her into the TR 3. I left the top up, it was chilly already.

   We arrived at Koenig’s and pulled up to the valet parking booth. A young man, college age, came up to My door and waited as I climbed out. I handed him a $10 tip, as I said, “Please park it away from any cars. If it looks like it does now when I pick it up, I’ll double your tip.”

   “Yessir,” he said with great enthusiasm. Then he jogged around the car to help diana get out. I know he got a show as she removed herself from the car, as the seats are only about twelve inches from the road. When she was standing, I sais, “Stand still, slave.”

   She stood stock still. The valet took a step back.

   Lifting the skimpy skirt, I clipped a chain dog leash to the chain that hung from her clit hood and lead her to the back door of the restaurant, which leads directly into the private dining room, where the affair was being held.

   Diana was weeping softly as we strode across the brightly lit parking lot. She held her head up, though, and acted like it was natural for her to have a leash clipped to her clitoris. I felt enormous pride in her feat, but her resolve would soon be put to the toughest test.

   To say she was a fish out of water or a turd in a punch bowl wouldn’t begin to describe how out of place she was. The instant we walked into the room, the room fell totally silent, like a heavy snow had blanketed a street and muted the sounds. No one spoke, but all eyes were upon her and her leash.

   I took her to the center of a small dance floor and dropped the handle of the leash. “Undress yourself, slave, everything. Shoes as well..”

   Her eyes opened wide not believing what she had heard. I met her gaze and held it for a few moments, before her head bowed in acquiescence. Ashamed, but with a modicum of pride, she pulled the tube top over her head, exposing her badly beaten breasts and their metal adornments. Then she stepped out of the short skirt, exposing the whip marks on her thighs and buttocks. The shoes, garter belt and stockings followed suit, and she was naked.

    The ensemble’s eyes were transfixed, drinking in the image of the fifty year old woman, naked, on a leash, her body covered in what were, even to the most casual and naive observer, whip marks. Her breasts oozing a little blood and decorated with tiny silver bells in the pierced nipples. To say she was a fish out of water, or a turd in the punch bowl would not do justice to how out of place she was here. Silence blanketed the room like a heavy snow fall mutes the sounds of a city street.

   No one spoke. No one pointed at her. Everything just stopped , frozen still. No one did anything, except stare in total disbelief of what they were witnessing. All eyes were fixed upon her, trying to comprehend the spectacle.

   Francine walked over to us, quite casually, as if she were greeting an old friend, and welcomed Me to her party. No mention of diana was made at all. It was exactly as if she wasn’t even there. The guests were looking and Francine and me for clues as to how they should behave and react in this very awkward and completely unexpected situation.

   “Everyone, this is David, a very dear friend of mine,” Francine announced.

   “David, this is everyone. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble mixing in.” Then she left us. I started to head for the bar for a drink, and diana started to follow Me. I stopped her in her tracks, when I said, “Stay!”

   For the longest time, people would give diana a wide berth as they walked around her to get to the bar, or the buffet. The looked her over surely, and they were obviously discussing her. Many of them never seemed to take their eyes from her.

   One woman, who was more than a little drunk, walked straight up to diana, martini in hand, and glared at her for a moment. Then she strode purposefully over to where I was standing, and in a too loud, too inebriated voice, said, “Is this some kind of Story of O thing?”

   Not taking the bait and rising to her sarcastic tone, I just answered, “No Madam, it isn’t. That was just a novel. A teasing piece of erotic fiction. This, however, is real. This is our life. This is My slave!”

   The woman began to stammer, totally flustered, floored by My matter of fact response. I watched as her husband whisked her out of the restaurant, before she caused any more of a spectacle.

   An hour after our arrival, I could see that diana was becoming noticeably fatigued, standing still on the dance floor. I spied a waiter and waved him over. Slipping a twenty dollar bill into his hand, I told him what I wanted. He seemed not the least put upon, and agreed tp carry out My request.

   I watched as he bused a few tables, scraping the scrapes off the plates onto another plate. He poured some water from an abandoned water goblet into a used soup bowl and carried the plate and bowl out to where diana stood. He bent over and placed the pate and bowl at her feet. He then flipped the plate over, dumping the contents on the floor. Diana looked for Mem uncertain about what was going on. I nodded slightly, and she picked up My intentions. I watched, as did everyone else, as she got down on her hands and knees and pressed her face into the food scraps and began eating. The crowd was hushed, all eyes on her humiliation, eating off the floor like a common cur. Every now and again, diana would stop eating an lap at the water in the bowl. The tastes mustn’t have been very appealing, but with her meager diet today, she was happy just to get fed, and she finished every bit. Even to the extent of licking the floor clean when it was gone.

   I mouthed the word ‘kneel’ to her, and she got on her knees, presentation position on the floor. It was a few minutes before any conversations started up again in the room. The show apparently over.

   The people seemed to have become more relaxed about diana, by now, and more and more of them drifted over to inspect her more closely. Gentle fingers lifted her bells and listened to their delicate tinkling. A few people lifted the chain that hung from her clit hood, and looked at the disc. Tentative fingers probed the brand, feeling the coarse texture of the scar.

   About 10:30, I thanked Francine for inviting Mer and picked up diana’ chain. She followed me out of the restaurant on her hands and knees. Silence followed our parting. The valet got My car quickly. He held diana’s door and watched her crawl in. I did not allow her to get dressed for the ride home.

   “I am very proud of your performance tonight, slave. You have done well,” I said to her as we drove.

   “Thank You, Master.”

   “Tell Me your feelings”

   “I’m totally confused, David,” she blurted out, not staying in character. “I could never have even imagined, in my wildest dreams, doing what I have done in the last day! I’ve peed and pooped outside, in the dirt, and in front of a woman I have never met! I have been beaten more harshly than I ever could have believed I could tolerate. I have been exposed in front of strangers, eaten off the floor like a dog.........” Her voice trailed off as she fought to control her breathing.

   I waited a few minutes, knowing she was wrestling with something. Something big. “And.......?” I prompted her.

   “When you were beating my chest last night, David, I wanted nothing more than for it to stop. To tell You to stop hurting me. I wanted You to look at what You had done to my tits and stop! But then, when You did stop, I was relieved, of course. But.....but I also wanted You to do it more. Even harder. I was happy, really happy that You had beaten me way beyond any limits we had before. I looked at my breasts last night as the candles burned out, and was actually proud that they were swollen and bruised. Proud!

   “How can this be? Why? None of our friends do this. The neighbors.....my sisters....no one I know does this. I just keep asking myself the same question, ver and over again. Why do we do it? Why do I need to do it? It’s just.............I’m just so confused, David.”

   “Diana, I have a question I must ask you, and I will only ask it once. I will never again ask you this question. How you answer the question will have no impact on how much I love you, or on our marriage. I will love you forever and always. No matter how you decide to answer.

   “Is that understood?”

   “Yes,” she said, not looking at Me.

   “We have reached a crossroads in our relationship, diana. It is something I have seen coming for about a month now. We have reached a place from which we cannot retreat. We can only move forward. Or stop. There are no alternatives. No other options available to us. Either we enter into it one hundred percent, or we abandon it completely.

   “Your confusion, I believe, stems from the fact that you are ready to become a 24/7 lifestyle slave. All ties to the vanilla world have to be broken. Eliminated completely. You need to experience total absolute servitude for the rest of our lives together. That is why you are confused. It is simply the fact that you are trying to live in both the vanilla world and in our D/s world at the same time.

   You have reached the turning point. You must choose. We can stop what we are doing, and return to being the college professor and his wife. Husband and wife. Mother and Father. Never again experience of even dabble with S & M. Or, you can choose to become My slave. Full time. No more job. No more hiding what you are. What We are. Reduced to being a slave who is owned my her Master.

   “Tonight, I am going to beat you again. I will again leave you chained in our dungeon. When I return to you tomorrow, you will tell me what you have chosen to do. The decision is yours. It has to be. Remember.....I will love you always and forever, no matter which choice you make.

   When we got home, I sent her to the litter for her final toilet of the day. Then I bound her to the St. Andrew’s Cross and flogged her belly and thighs. I removed the bells from her nipples and took the strop to her breasts again. She screamed and twisted against her bonds. But she never, not even once, begged me to stop.

   When I finally stopped, I removed the straps that held her to the cross, and she literally fell into My arms. I kissed her, and then chained her foot to the bottom of the cross. I left her alone in the darkened dungeon, facing perhaps the most monumental decision she had ever made, or would ever have to make in her life.