The Hotel

The Hotel

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Chapter 1 - The Mountaintop.

My new guest was due any time.  I insisted on a strict timetable, so that two clients never saw each other.  Discretion was at the top of my guaranteed services.  She had just five minutes left to get here, or I would push the button that would close the electric gate.  If that happened then she would have to explain, by secure email, just why she was tardy, then accept a reschedule.  Fortunately, that would not be the case here - on the security monitor, I saw a car pull into the driveway and start up the steep hill - that had to be her.  

I walked out to wait for her to pull up to the office, then waved her to follow me to a waiting single car garage, next to her reserved room.  Once the car was parked, and the door pulled down and secured, I invited her to my office for some instruction.  She was tall, thin, nicely breasted, about thirty-five years of age, and, from the look of the 'Benz she drove up in, well off.  The clothes she was wearing were definitely not from the local department store chain.   But, this was no surprise - all of my clientele were wealthy, or they couldn't afford my services.  She was nervous, like all new clients, and refused my offer of a cup of coffee or glass of soda.

"Please sit down, ma'am."  No names here, although I knew who she was.  My clients were spooky enough without giving them a reason to worry.  She sat down in the very comfortable chair across from my desk, but definitely didn't relax.  I pulled up her file from the database, decrypted it and began to study it. 

"Before you start," she said and paused to form her thoughts.  That was the first time I had heard her voice.  "If the information that I gave you should get out in any way..."  I held up my hand.

"Please, ma'am," I interrupted, "let me make my usual welcoming speech." I pointed to my computer. "Before I became a specialty innkeeper, I was what is known as a geek, a nerd, a computer expert.  Everything that I know about you - all correspondence, notes, requests, in short everything that is written down about our business relationship is in here.   I just pulled up the file that I have started on you. It resides in an encrypted file on an encrypted drive, that I just accessed by decrypting just your information.  As soon as I am finished with it, it will be re-encrypted and put back.  Or if nothing is done with your file for more than 10 minutes, it automatically unmounts and disappears.  Or if I hit an emergency key, it does the same."   I had no idea if she was following me or not.  "If the computer is stolen, your data will of course be stolen with it, but according to encryption experts, your data can not be extracted and read by any known means on the planet."  Plus, I had a lot more security barriers than that, including the detail that I had just lied in fact, if not in overall conception, to the lady.  This computer had nothing on it of importance, and was just the terminal that I used to get to the real computer - one that was vastly harder to steal, and by the time anyone got to it, there would be nothing to take except some blank hardware.

"Protecting my client's identity and information is at the forefront of everything I do here.  I have two other customers here at the moment, and you will never see them, nor them you.  Do you have any questions about your anonymity?"

She shook her head.  "I have to trust you, but this isn't easy.  If the slightest hint of my actions here gets out..."  She almost shuddered.

I smiled.  It was time to move on.  "From your questionnaire, you wish to be restrained, preferably standing and fully clothed for a period of four hours. No punishment or torture.  No sexual acts.  Interesting for a beginner, you don't want a safe word."  That would tell me that she was through playing and wanted to be turned loose.   "You have put two question marks next to gagged and blindfolded."  I waited.

"I... I'm not sure. Would it be possible to try them?"

"Ma'am, ANYTHING here is possible.  The client is in charge and I do exactly what they want." I think that she was slightly relaxing, which was very important. It was not unknown for a woman to jump up and flee in panic as she realized what she was about to engage in.  "May I make a suggestion.  Or a couple of suggestions.  The blindfold is fine, some really like it.  But a gag can be fairly cruel for a person who has never worn one.  I wouldn't want to subject you to what might be a very unpleasant experience your first time."   I got in the idea that she would hopefully be coming back.  "But, I would suggest that I might install a smaller ball gag during your last 30 minutes.  That would give you an idea of what it felt like without chancing a very painful jaw cramping.

She nodded.  I think she was almost afraid to speak.

I stood up. "Are you ready?"

She reached down and picked up a small valise.  In a very hesitant voice, she said, "I have some clothes here that I would like to change into."

I nodded.  This was a very common request.  In the bag would be a set of clothing that she would never even think of allowing anyone to see her in.

A few seconds later, we entered her room, number 2.  It looked like a normal hotel room - no bondage equipment or racks, and no whips or other toys on the wall - except for two chains hanging from the ceiling, and two laying on the floor, attached to ring bolts in the tile floor.   "Please change into anything you wish to wear and push that button by the door."

This gave me a chance to check on the customer in suite 5.  This was a fairly plump redhead, age thirty-two.  She was standing, totally naked,  bent over at the waist and head hanging down, legs spread widely and fastened.  Her arms were in manacles behind her and were pulled up toward the ceiling by a rope that was fairly taut. I could see a puddle on the floor where she was drooling around the large ball gag.   Looking at my electronic scheduler, I saw that it was time for her next punishment.  I picked up a dildo that I had placed on the side table when her session began.  Then I unhooked a small gold chain that went from a band around her waist, down and through the crack of her pussy, back up through a small retention loop in the dildo she was wearing in her ass, then up to the waistband.  I slowly pulled the dildo out of her ass, leaving a gaping hole about an inch across.  As it slowly began to close, I began to insert the new dildo that I had pre-lubed at the beginning of the session.  This plug was considerably larger than the one that just came out - a fact that my client noticed as it went in. She began the most erotic - for me - moaning as the dildo went home.  I hoped that she was enjoying herself, since she was scheduled for an even larger dildo in an hour.

I looked at the light over the door of room number 2.  It was now on so I then reentered.  My new client had changed into a nice looking outfit, although as I had guessed, not one that she would wear around anyone she knew.  A tank top, skin tight miniskirt and four inch spike heels.  She would not meet my eyes, obviously embarrassed by her new wardrobe.  I acted as though she was still wearing the upscale suit that she came in with, but still enjoyed the sight of her nipples trying to poke through the tank.

"Step over here, ma'am.  This method of restraint" - I made sure not to say bondage - "is not painful, but becomes uncomfortable after a while.  And it is real.  I don't do play acting here.  Once you are in it, you can't escape from it by yourself."  She was almost fearful, looking at the chains, but I could also detect some beginning arousal. 

"Excuse me," I said, then stooped down and began to fasten her ankles into the metal cuffs.  They were still unattached at the ends, so she still stood there with her legs together.  Then I lifted her arms, one at time, and fastened them into the wrist cuffs.  Her hands hung in front of her, about chest high.  "Do you wish to continue," I asked.  "If so I will spread you out and leave you here for the agreed upon time.  I will not check on you, so you will stay restrained here till your time runs out." She nodded.  Do you still wish the gag at the end of thirty minutes?" I asked. She nodded again.  Speech was beyond her at the moment.  She was about to engage on something that she had probably dreamed about since a little girl, but never in her wildest dreams thought she would ever try.   "The blindfold?" 

This time she actually spoke a couple of words.  "Yes, please." 

I pulled the ankle chains to the side and fastened them to the floor rings with snap clips, then pulled on the overhead chains, which ran through pulleys, and fastened them to the same floor rings. Then on went the blindfold.  She was now really and truly spread - not stretched, but there was very little play in her bonds.  "You have begun, ma'am.  You will not be released for four hours." 

As I opened the door, she said, obviously on a sexual impulse, "Put my gag in halfway through."   Hmmm, I thought and left.

The client in number 3 was ready to be released.  She had been standing for three hours in vertical stocks, her head and wrists through holes in a large scissor board, and her feet spread widely in another.  Both horizontal boards were bolted between two massive posts, so the woman could wiggle, but not much else.   She was wearing a set of leather panties inside of which three sets of wires disappeared.  A butterfly vibrator on her clit, one in her pussy and an egg up her ass were connected to a computer.  I had written the program myself, naturally, and it could be set to one of many stimulation patterns.   The different vibrators would be triggered at intervals that appeared to be random, but in fact were closely choreographed by me.  She had selected, through me, a program that would tease for a few hours, then gradually raise the stimulation to a massive assault about fifteen minutes before her time was up.   It must have worked, she was wringing wet, with her hair hanging in damp strings.

I unlocked both scissor boards, loosened the belt on the panties, then slowly dropped them while making sure that the three vibrators followed.  The one in her ass needed a little help, but it popped out with a gentle pull on the wires.  I smiled at her and left, making sure that the exit light over the door was green.  If the red light was on, the client would know to stay in her room until the green lamp signaled that there was no danger clients could see one another.

My pocket reminder beeped again, and I again entered suite 5 that I had left an hour before.  Once again, I removed the current dildo, and began to insert one that was again, considerably larger than the previous one, which made it MUCH larger than the one she had started with.  She had never come close to that size in previous sessions, but many women selected procedures or objects knowing that it was going to be unpleasant, but the fact that they were helpless to stop the action was erotic in itself.

As her asshole began to try to accommodate the massive intrusion, she wiggled and squealed, obviously trying to speak around her gag.  She also had selected no safe word, or object to drop, so I ignored the thrashing and unintelligible noise.  Slowly the dildo entered until the rubber flange bumped up against her bottom.  I replaced the chain, stepped back to enjoy her torment for a few moments as she futilely tried to break or pull the chains loose so that she could reach the device that was painfully stretching her asshole, then left for my office. 

A few minutes later, number 3 entered my office, having showered and restored herself to some semblance of normality.  After some polite conversation, in which she expressed her satisfaction, once again, with my services, she deposited a fat envelope on my desk and I walked her to her car.

The women in rooms 2 and 5 were the only guests I had at the moment. Actually, that was almost full occupancy for this place.  Another was due later - she would stay for the night.  At the appropriate time, I entered suite number 2 quietly and before she could speak, assuming she wanted to, placed a medium sized ball gag in the guest's mouth and wrapped the velcro ends around her head.  It was an hour till she was to be let loose, not the two hours that she had requested as I left the room at the start.  I knew that even an hour with the gag would start getting very uncomfortable - two hours on a person whose jaws were not trained to be jammed open would be very non-erotically painful.  Even so, at the end of the hour she would be thinking that it had been in all day.

Toward the end of her ordeal, my next guest arrived.  An old timer - she had been with me since almost the beginning, coming about every other month.  I would spread eagle her naked with bungee cords on a waterproof pallet that sagged sort of like a shallow hammock. I knew that she would have been drinking as much caffeinated beverage - soda, coffee, tea - during the day as she could hold.  As she lay there all night, her bladder would finally signal that it had to be released.  Due to her intake, that would happen several times during the night.  She would be forced to lay in the ever deepening puddle until I released her in the morning. At that time, she would furiously masturbate, still laying there, then shower and leave.  

The world takes all kinds, and I am not judgmental.

My scheduler signaled the end of my new client ordeal.  I entered room 2, removed her chains, gag and blindfold.  She let out a sigh of relief, and almost shuddered.  At this point, I had no idea if I had a steady customer or not.   "You may remain in this room as long as you wish, until you are ready come to my office.  You may wish to shower." Or furiously finger yourself off, as soon as I leave, I added mentally.  "Please do not leave if the red light over the door is on."  It was green right now.  

She must have needed to relieve her stresses, since it was almost an hour before she appeared, much more calm than when she arrived.  I motioned her to the big chair.  "I hope that your experience was what you expected, ma'am."

"It was not at all what I had imagined, but yes, it was quite satisfying, thank you."  She also, handed me an envelope, that I placed in a desk drawer.  Good, I had made it clear that if the guest was not totally satisfied, then the service was free.  Some short conversation ensued, then I walked her to her car.

This had been a week that was too busy.  I normally only allowed two clients per week at the most, since I didn't want a large stream of traffic in and out everyday.  That would most definitely cause the locals to wonder about the supposedly closed hotel.  However, this week I made an exception since I planned to go on vacation for the next twenty days or so.

The next morning, after I had released my only overnight guest, I closed up, gathered up the contents of the envelopes that I had been given all month, and drove over the state line to the big city.  I had a contact there - a bookie, just to mention his main line of business - who would, at a discount, exchange my greenbacks for gold pieces.  These would be stashed at various places around the state, underground and very unlikely to ever be found.  I assumed that someday the details of my business might become known, either through the actions of an unsatisfied customer, a detective following a client, or any one of a number of reasons.  What I was doing was not illegal - all clients were there of their own accord - but I doubt that the citizens of the county would just ignore the news of a bondage hotel on the mountaintop.  When that happened, I had no intention of my hard-earned money being seized by civil courts in the fallout of the disclosure so that various attorneys could get themselves new BMWs. 

On the way back, I stopped in the local town for supplies.   

After a few years of operating my bondage hostel, I could usually categorize a new client on the first interview. Very few just came in fresh as full bore subs.  These were all women who fantasized about bondage, but were never able to practice it.

A certain number just wanted to be restrained.  They never did any more than be chained by the neck to a bed overnight, or hogtied for an afternoon.  Just the feeling of not being able to leave the room or bed for a certain time satisfied their cravings for domination.

Some would start just light B&D, but would gradually increase their desire for bondage to much more strict confinement, and punishment.  Such as being spread eagled for the day with dildos, or vibrators, light whippings or sex.  These eventually found the level they wanted and were happy to request that from then on.

A small number became hard core subs.  They would move from light confinements to fairly normal B&D activities.  But instead of stopping there, they would reach the point to where they wanted real B&D.  Tight bondage for days, hard sessions under the whip, major punishments.  Eventually, these would reach the point to where they would offer to become real and permanent slaves.  I wondered what to do with them.

At the back of the property, was a cave.  I could remember it as a boy as being huge, but that is all.  It was just a big bubble in the rock, and had nothing to entice tourists - no long passages, or stalactites, or pools of water with blind fish.  Eventually, I began to look for it, found the closed up entrance, and began to dig the rubble away.  Once I got it open, I explored it and found it to be vastly smaller than the mile deep cavern that I remembered as a child.  It was longer than wide, about 200 feet to the back wall, and maybe 40 feet wide on the average, with a wide grotto about a third of the way back.  It was plenty tall, however, in some places almost 30 feet to the rock overhead.  I decided to make it into a subterranean dungeon.  Some of my clientele might get off on the idea.  It would not be easy - running power and water a hundred feet to a underground location, on a mountaintop that was mostly rock, was going to be a summer long project, especially since the utilities and entrance had to be hidden.

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Three years before...

Three years before, the postman dropped off a yellow card that indicated I had a certified letter at the post office.  I was puzzled, since I knew of no reason for anyone contact me in that way.  I was just a average wage slave doing his time in an 8 to 5 sentence.  The next day was a major surprise when I retrieved the letter.  It was a genuine rich uncle scenario. In this case, it really was my uncle and as far as I knew, he was rich - at least, I knew he had a lot more money than I had ever seen. 

In short, after a few weeks, I was in possession of a tidy sum of money - not enough to retire to Rio, but definitely enough to make my life much easier if I used it wisely.  And - another surprise - I was now the owner of a hotel.  A hotel?  Specifically, the Mountain View Overlook Hotel.  I barely remembered visiting the establishment as a child.  I definitely remembered the neat cave at the back of the property. 

The next weekend, I got up early on Saturday and headed for the border.  In an hour or so, I was in the vicinity of my new property.  I was on a winding road, well maintained but almost totally absent of cars.  Finally, at the top of the mountain, I came to the sign which displayed ...iew Overlook Hotel.  It was falling down, and the first two words of the name were missing.  In almost a state of shock, I drove up the steep unpaved driveway and came to an abandoned sprawling set of cinderblock structures that resembled a hotel - sort of.  I got out and walked around, as my vision of a new and lucrative career crashed in flames.  The hotel was built solid, and was still intact, but was badly in need of lots of repairs.  Unfortunately for any future plans, this part of the state was and had been a depressed area for decades - no jobs, no factories, just a few hardscrabble farms with indifferent crops.  Not exactly a hot tourist destination.  I found out later, when I bought gas, that the reason for the lack of traffic was the new Interstate extension that paralleled it just a couple of miles west.

After leaving my hotel, and my capitalistic dreams behind, I headed back home.  A few months later, I was laid off as the owning corporation downsized and closed the plant.  They were decent about it - I got a good severance, and money for searching for a new job.  This wasn't the disaster that it would have been a year before.  With the money part of my inheritance, I was drawing, if not good interest, enough income to live on as long as I watched my spending.  And I watched it very closely.  With my severance pay, I had leisure to look for my next career.  Which turned out not to be anything close to what I would have ever expected.

The forced vacation had a couple of good points, mainly in the form of two semi-girlfriends on which I practiced B&D.  I had been playing with these two for about three years - before them there had been others.  It was strictly a companionship of sex - we never dated or met outside of my leased house, fully equipped with a windowless dungeon which gave the three of us hours of pleasure.   I had been interesting in tying up women since before puberty.  I loved to play games with my sister where I captured her and held her captive, tying her hands with little ropes.  Of course, at that age, the sexual connotation of the play action was not there at all and I had no knowledge of why it gave both of us enjoyment. 

About a month after my job disappeared, I got a letter that was puzzling, in all aspects.  All it said, was "Mr. Tatum, I would like to meet with you to talk about a position that might interest you.  You will receive remuneration for any services that you provide.  If you are interested, please come to (an upscale cafe, in the good part of town) this Friday at 6pm.  Ask the doorman for Francisco."  What the heck?  I was a pretty good jack-of-all-trades worker and a very good programmer (my opinion), but I certainly had no skills that couldn't be found in any employment office. 

On Friday, I headed to a cafe that I would never have entered under normal circumstances.  After parking in a lot with a ridiculous fee scale, I walked up to the doorman and inquired for Francisco, whoever that was. 

The doorman pointed me to a desk, behind which sat the Maître d' - Francisco, I presumed.  I suddenly realized that I didn't know what to ask.  Something like "Excuse, me. I am here to meet someone whom I have never seen and know nothing about.  Could you tell me where he is?" didn't seem to be a request that would come across well in an upscale establishment.   However, the problem was immediately solved, when he looked up and inquired, "Mr. Tatum?"    "Yes," I answered and nodded.   "Please follow me." 

With that, we crossed through a dining room, down an exquisitely decorated hall and into a small, and just as well turned out private room.  "Please make yourself comfortable."  And left, closing the door behind him.

As I sat there, imaginative thoughts of what was happening raced though my mind.  Were these people recruiting mules to transport drugs, or money, or did they want my skills to crack ATM's?  I couldn't, but maybe they thought my computer skills lay in that direction.  I certainly didn't know of any abilities that I had that would justify this experience.  Maybe they were...    The door opened and a woman entered.

A very nice looking woman, about thirty or so, very well dressed.  Obviously way upper class.  Way, way over my class.  She walked up to the table.  "Mr. Tatum?  My name is Stefanie. Please sit down." I had started to get to my feet.  She eased herself into the chair opposite of mine and looked me over for a few seconds.

"Mr Tatum, what I have in mind has nothing to do with any illegalities, or anything that the authorities would care about.  What we say between us is completely confidential. Do you agree?"

She waited for my nod. 

"Very well.  You've been playing sexual games with my niece, Melody." 

Oh shit! My world started coming apart. No doubt she had a couple of goons just outside the door waiting for the signal to enter and remove my appendages one by one, and disposing of the rest in the river.  But, before I could start forming any kind of sentence, she went on.  "She says that you are not only very good at it, but you are very discreet.  Specifically, you have not bragged to the rest of your male cohorts that you have been shagging her and her friend, as she puts it."  She waited for my reply.

Carefully, I answered, slightly shocked that the language did not fit the appearance.  "I enjoy those games, as you have put it.  It has been my only hobby since... well, for a long time.   Melo... Your niece has been a good friend for as long as we have been... playing together.  I have no intention of jeopardizing that relationship by blabbing about it to outsiders.  Girls wanting to play B&D games are not found every day."  A thought occurred to me.  "And speaking of which, how do you know about our relationship?  Did she...?"  

She held up her hand.  "That isn't important, but you may ask Melody if you wish."  She leaned forward.  "I want you to practice your skills on me."  She waited a few moments.  "Are you shocked?"  The answer was yes, but I said nothing, just waited.  "I have been a..." She paused for a second. "...sub? Yes, sub is what Melody called it.  All my life.  I have always known that.  On the infrequent occasions that my husband bothers to have sex with me, I always pretend that I am tied down and unwilling.  I alway have fantasized my being in bondage, or being tortured, one way or another, during sex, including when I do it alone." She leaned back in the chair.  "My husband only cares about sex when the pressures force him to.  If I mentioned my fantasy to him, ...well, I have trouble imagining what he would say or do."

I began to come to life.  Carefully, feeling my way, I said, "Are you asking for me to... uh, put you in a bondage situation during which I would... "   I couldn't say screw or fuck to this woman.  "Uh... perform sex on you?"  It is hard to be discrete when you think you are being asked for a session of bondage with fucking.  

She leaned forward again, and in a low voice.  "No.  I want you to place me in a total bondage situation for several days. Totally helplessness on my part. No matter what I say or do, you will not release me or cease your torments.  And it has to be real.  Such that I can't refuse or escape. "  She let a deep breath out with a slight shudder.  "I am somewhat older than you, but I believe that my body is not altogether uninteresting to a young man."  THAT was an understatement.  I was hoping that I didn't have to stand up any time soon, or just how interested that I currently was would stand out at full attention.  "In addition to your having full use of my body during the session, I will also be very generous in my remuneration of your services."

She paused and waited as I was obviously thinking over her statements.  After some thought, I said, "When would you want to do this? And where?  My house would..."

"NO," she interrupted.  "It can't be in this town.  You will need to find a spot, very private, and a considerable distance away.  I can take no chances of this EVER becoming known.  Nobody will know of it but you and me.  Even Melody can't know - I just led her to believe that what she told me of what you and she do, is merely interesting, but of no consequence."

I continued thinking in silence, but a plan was trying to form.  "Do you want to do it immediately, or can I have some time to fix it up?"

"You can take all the time you want - months if needed.  I have no problem waiting, if that will increase the security of this...  tryst.  Just thinking that it will happen eventually is quite satisfactory for now."

The next day...

I am a do-it-yourselfer, with amateur skills in most building trades - I built all of the bondage equipment in my dungeon.  What I don't know about, I can learn. 

The next day, I headed for my hotel on the mountaintop.  Once there, I closely examined the place, trying to find the room or room that could be rehabilitated with the least effort.  Fortunately, my property was miles from any incorporated city, and there were no statewide building codes, so I could do anything I wanted to the place without worrying about inspectors showing up to complain about my lack of licenses or permits.  I stopped by the sheriff's office to introduce myself so that I wouldn't be getting surprise visits from a deputy thinking I was a squatter or whatever.  To their questions, I answered that I had no plans to open the hotel, but just to make part of it livable so that I could move in.  I explained that I was a freelance programmer who liked living in a rural setting where I could concentrate on my coding in peace. 

The power and water were no problem, just a matter of finding the offices and paying the deposits.  Fortunately, the hotel was so remote that vandalism hadn't totally trashed the place.  There were a few broken windows, and a couple of doors were missing.  The hotel long predated in room air conditioning, so if it had ever had any, either those units had been removed or stolen.  But, being high in the Ozark mountains, air conditioning wasn't a totally necessity like it was down in the flatlands.

I selected a couple of rooms and began to clean them out.  Some time in the past, the original roof had been replaced with more modern metal sheeting, so weather leaks were fairly few.  I scrubbed the rooms, and adjoining bathrooms, gave then a new tile floors, new paint and curtains on the walls, and ripped down the ancient ceiling tiles and glued new ones on.   The bathrooms got the same, along with some new fixtures and plumbing.  After several of weeks of intensive effort, I had two new, nice smelling, mountaintop apartments.  The last thing to do was mount some convenient attachment rings in various locations in the floors, walls and ceilings.  I was going to renovate the office area, into, well, my office and quarters.  So far, all I had done was clean it up and move in a bed and some kitchen appliances - 'fridge and microwave.  I began to transfer some dungeon furniture and living items from my house, along with a full supply of toys.   Then I repaired the gate, fixed a few sections of fence, and decided that I was ready.

Stefanie looked around the hotel and into the special rooms.  She noticed the automatic gate other security features.  "Very good," she commented.  "How did you come up with all this so fast?"  I explained about my uncle and my inheritance.  She fingered the chains, ropes, whips and all the paraphernalia hanging on the wall.  I assumed that she knew all about such items, but it was possible that this was the first time she had actually seen and felt any.  She she seemed fascinated by the chains, especially.  Pulling and tugging on them, one by one. 

I needed to find out the specifics of what she was wanting.  "Stephanie." She had asked me to call her by her first name. "I don't know how much you talked to Melody about B&D play, but we need to lay out the rules."

She spun around and looked at me hard.  "First off,"she said, "there are no rules and this is not play.  I want it real.  When we start, I expect total domination just as if I were owned by some Arab in the desert."

Wow, I thought.  She continued. "As far as asking how far your actions can go, all you have to take into consideration, after the week is over, is that I have to go back home to my husband, without any permanent indication of what I have been doing.  That presumes that I have no brands, or deep lashes, or tattoos and so forth."  She played with the chains again - I began to realize that she got off on chain.  "This may be the only time I can be a real sub - I want to experience it fully.  You will give no consideration to my protests, demands or threats for the entire week.  Do you agree?"   What could I do but nod.

We headed for town, and an excellent dinner that cost about what I paid to eat on for a week.  She talked about her life, her nieces, her husband, anything at all except B&D, but I could see her thinking in the background about what she was about to go through.  I realized that I when we got back, I had to forget her status in the community and start acting like she was some slut from the wagon yard - immediately.  I wondered how her imagination would coincide with the actuality of being a slave.  As we drove back into the mountains, she gradually ceased to talk, obviously dwelling on what was about to happen.  Well, she wanted it real.  She was going to get real in spades.

Back in her room, I gave her a simple pullover cotton dress and told her to put it on by the time I got back.  She was already getting into the mood, and said nothing but "Ok" as I left.  I gave her a few minutes, then entered the room again with a sack.  "Put all your clothes in here," I ordered.  She folded them carefully, and placed them in the sack.  I noticed that there was no underwear in the stack, so either she didn't wear any on the drive up here - unlikely - or she had an attack of modesty and left them on.  No matter, that problem would be easily solved.  "Stand over here."  She complied.

I connected the floor chains, still unattached to anything at the other end, to her ankles, then her wrists to the chains hanging from the ceiling.  I stood up and looked at her.  Her full tits were heaving as her respiration speeded up with the realization that this dream was about to become true.  Then the week began.  I pulled on each floor chain and attached them to rings with her legs spread as widely as possible.  Then I pulled on the wrist chains until her body was stretched into a big female X.  I walked around her, examining the merchandise - a  beautiful slave girl and I was anxious to see what she really looked like.  But I was going to do this on a very carefully choreographed schedule.  Not just a week long fuck fest.  At the end, she would either hate her dream, or become addicted to submission.

As I stood looking at her, I was waiting. And the wait wasn't long.  She looked up at the chains coming from the ceiling and said, "My, this is really tight on..."  That is as far has she got.  I put my hand across one side of her face, nowhere near hard enough to do any damage, but definitely hard enough to sting badly.  She recoiled back in shock - this may have been the first time in her life that any man had ever hit her.

"First rule, bitch!" Another shock - I doubted that many men had called her by that name, either.  "I don't care what your opinion is - on anything!  The second rule, is that you don't speak unless asked a question!"  I pulled a ball gag off the wall, moved around behind her, reached around and pushed it into her mouth.  I don't think she knew what it was, since she didn't resist and just let me push it between her lips.  I fastened it behind her head.  I then pulled on the wrist chains to stretch her to where her heels were just leaving the floor.   Then I left her, and went back to the office.

I sat down, since my heart was beating just about as rapidly as hers, and began to plan out the week.  Before tonight, I had no idea just what kind of bondage she wanted.  Now, she told me and I was going to give her exactly that.

An hour later, I stepped back into the room.  The only thing that had changed was that she had drooled down the front of the cotton dress.  I pretended to look through the sack that contained her clothes, then picked up a riding crop and walked over to her.  "How are the chains?" I asked, pleasantly. "Do they feel like what you dreamed about?"  Of course, the only answer that came around the ball gag, was "Hmmmf," which could have been yes or no.  I casually reached up and grabbed hold of her left breast, and she tried to retreat backward.  She managed a couple of inches.  The first time that happened by another man, I would bet.  She was going to have a lot of firsts this week.  I could tell that she still had her bra on under the dress.  I hardened my expression and said, "Did I not tell you to put ALL your clothes in that sack?"  She just nodded rapidly, but tried to say nothing.  I walked behind her and whacked her bottom with the crop - a very gentle hit, compared to what she would feel later.  Nonetheless, she lunged forward as far as her bonds would allow, which was only a few inches.  I popped her again, this time harder.  "Answer me, bitch."  She immediately got a "eessss!" around the gag.

I walked over to a cabinet on the wall, and pulled out a pair of scissors.  Standing in front of her, I said, "You are going to learn real fast, that when I say something, I mean it.  Your old life is over.  You've just begun your new career.  Do you want to know what it will be?"  As I was talking I reached down and picked up the front of her dress far enough to see the front of her bra.  With the scissors, I cut the strap between the cups, getting just a glimpse of some beautiful white titties as they fell out and the dress fell back down.  Then, reaching up and through the wide neck of the cotton pullover, I cut both shoulder straps.  The white bra fell to the floor.  I had also noticed that, of course, she still had her panties on.  I moved behind her, lifted up the dress and cut them off also.  The whole time, I continued speaking.

"You want to play what you thought is a game.  I don't play games, I do bondage for real.  You left town telling everyone that you were meeting some old school girlfriends in New York City.  You drove here as secretly as possible.  Nobody knows where you are.  Are you getting the picture?"  She was watching me with fairly wide eyes, but said nothing.   "I'm afraid that your one week play vacation has been extended indefinitely.  I am going to keep you as my slave, till I get tired of you - probably years from now.  Then I will probably drive you down to the border and sell you to a bordello.  They are always looking for white gringo ladies to service the locals."  Her eyes were really open now.  "What you don't know - what nobody knows about - is that there's a cave hidden below this hotel.  I've fixed it up as a perfect dungeon for you and my other slaves.  You will be permanently chained by the neck to a rock.  You will sleep on some straw.  You will piss and shit in a bucket.  And you will eat whatever scraps that I may throw to you.  And, during the whole time all of your holes will be used by me for whatever purpose I choose." 

Of course, the dungeon cave I was speaking of was in the future, and there weren't any other girls.  But I tried to make it believable.  I continued, "In a week or so, I assume that the police in New York will start frantically looking for this female swell who came to their city and disappeared.  I assume your husband won't feel too bad eventually, with all the young bitches around who would just love to service a rich plant owner."  I could almost hear her trying to tell herself that this was just a game, but all the while trying to hold down the terror that I might be serious.

 

I swatted her lightly on the back, and butt, and continued.  "You are now just a cunt with a set of holes for my use.  Forget your fancy ivy league education.  You are no longer an I, or a me." Standing behind her, I put my arm around her side, and held the whip in front of her face.  "Do you know what the punishment is if the cunt should forget any of this?"  She violently shook her head.  I pulled my arm back and let her have a good one on her butt - much harder than before but still not a real lash.

She screamed, or tried to.  It only came out as a muffled "AHHEEEEE."

I was about as hard as I could possibly get, but now was not the time to use it on her.  Nevertheless, I couldn't resist lifting the back of her thin cotton dress and looking at her beautiful ass - now with a couple of horizontal red marks.  God it was nice.  It took all my will power not to just step up and plug into her. Either hole would do fine right now, but I took a deep breath and settled down.  Time to move on.

"I am going to remove your gag.  Be sure that you remember what I have said."  I knew she wouldn't.  At least not without another couple of reminders.  Off came the gag. I held the riding crop ready.

Sure enough, after working her sore jaws back and forth, she started, "I need to go to the...AHHHHHHHH!!"  I let her have another good one on an inner thigh.

"Have you not been paying attention, or are you just stupid?" I asked.  "The proper form is to say, 'Stephanie requests permission to speak to the Master.'"  I waved the crop in front of her face.  "Say IT!" I demanded.

She managed to choke out, "This...  Stephanie requests permission to speak to the Master."

"What could you say that I would have any interest in hearing?"

"I...  I mean...  This... Stephanie needs to go to the bathroom," she finally stammered.  Apparently she was having trouble with her own name.  One again I laid a medium stroke inside the other thigh.  Another scream.

"ANY sentence out of the cunt's mouth will have the word Master in it somewhere.  Try again."

"Master please, Stephanie needs to go to the bathroom."

"For what," I asked.

"I... Stephanie needs to...  to... "she groped for a word. I noticed that her face was an interesting shade of scarlet.  This was certainly nothing that she EVER talked about with a man."  "To what?  Say it!" I demanded.  "This cunt needs to have a bowel movement.  ...Master," she added.

"What the hell is that?  You fancy-smancy swells sure have trouble saying what you need.  Am I being told that the cunt needs to shit?"  If possible, she turned even redder.  "Well..." I demanded.

She nodded.

"Then say it!"

"This cunt needs to...  needs to... shit."  The last word came out so quietly that I almost couldn't here it.

"You don't need to whisper.  There's nobody within miles of here.  Now try again and get it right or I'll stick a plug up your ass and let you store it."

"Master, this cunt needs shit, badly."  This time at full volume.

"Much better.  You will have a much less painful life from now on, if you just remember the rules."  I stepped outside and returned with a five gallon bucket which I put on a short stool between her legs.  She should be able to hit that, and with the short cotton dress spread widely by her legs, that shouldn't get in the way either.  "Ok," I continued.  "Do it."

She looked down at the bucket, then back up at me as it slowly dawned on her that she was not going to be allowed to sit on a commode like a lady.  She had probably never taken a dump while squatting outside in her life, let alone standing up, into a bucket with a man in the room.  She shook her head.  "No. No.  I can't..."  That was as far as she got before my hand came down on the other side of her face - hard.   I walked around behind her and gave her two good lashes with the crop.   After a couple of screams, she just hung her head and moaned.

"You've been told that the only 'I' in this room is myself.  And 'No' is one world that does not come out of any cunt's mouth.  NOW DO IT."

She closed her eyes, and I could see her straining, but her mental processes just wouldn't her her bowel muscles work with the combination of myself watching and the circumstances of the situation.  I decided to give her a break, and left the room for my own quarters.  I needed some self relief quickly - the last hour had been ungodly stimulating. 

When I came back into her room an hour later, I looked in the bucket and saw that she had either managed to go, or her body had finally made her take a dump.  She wouldn't look at me, being not only embarrassed at what I was looking at, but also at the fact that this was probably the first time in her life that she couldn't wipe afterward.  I reached up and took a titty in my hand, through the dress, massaged it, and said, "Now that is a good little cunt.  Did you wipe your ass, afterward?" I asked, obviously knowing the answer.

Still not looking at me, she said in a low voice, "No Master, Stephanie couldn't."

It was getting very late, and it was time for both of us to turn in.  We had a busy day tomorrow.

I unhooked the ceiling chain from her wrists but then locked them together behind her, then unfastened the chains from her ankle bracelets, which I left on.  I led her over to the bed, then snapped on and locked a metal collar.  From this I connected a chain to a ring in the wall at the head of the bed, just long enough to allow her to slide off and squat.  I set the now empty waste bucket where she could reach it.  Of course, since her hands were still manacled behind her, she would have to be careful not to knock over the bucket during the night.   I pulled her to a sitting position, held a large glass of water for her to drink, then let her lie back on her side.  Pulling a sheet over her, I said, "Goodnight Stephanie.  Tomorrow we will begin your training."  With that, I turned out the lights and left.

The next morning, I was up early and ready to play with my new toy.  First I fixed myself some breakfast, sausage and waffles, then put took what was left over into a bowl and headed for the playroom. 

My cunt was awake, laying there as I left her, except not under the sheet.  Laying there in a wrinkled cheap cotton pullover dress, her hair splayed out in all directions, she probably wouldn't have been recognized by her friends if they walked in the room.  I noticed that she had managed to use the bucket during the night, as it had a half inch of liquid in it.  "Good morning, Stephanie. Are you hungry?" I asked.

She struggled to sit up, and with her head slightly down, said quietly, "Yes."  I narrowed my eyes and started to raise my hand as she realized her omission.  "Yes, Master," she added fearfully.  I took a piece of cloth and tied her hair into a pony tail, then set the bowl of food on the floor, along with another bowl filled with water, and a toothbrush.   Then I removed the lock between her wrist bracelets, freeing her hands.  I left the chain connecting her collar to the wall.  Then I left her and went back to my quarters. 

As I cleaned up the kitchen, I began to think what I had told my new acquisition last night.  What I had said about her situation was correct.  Nobody knew where she was, and certainly had no hint about what was happening to her.  If I wanted, I really could keep her as a permanent girl-toy from now on.  I got a massive hardon just thinking about that.

Back in the room, she had eaten everything and was sitting on the bed.  Of course, that was a no-no.  I picked up the crop and laid it across her back.  She screamed and dropped to the floor on all fours.

"A cunt NEVER sits in my presence, unless I give permission."  I pointed to the floor with the whip.  "Squat there facing me."  She immediately sat back on her haunches. "Knees apart as wide as possible!  Hands behind your back and crossed!  Look at the floor in front of you!"   She rapidly obeyed, with a couple of fearful glances at the whip.  I laid the whip gently on her shoulder and said, "That is the proper position for a slave girl to greet her Master.  You will assume that position at all times when I am in the room.  Understand?"

She nodded and replied, "Yes, Master."

"Ok, now stand up and take off that dress."  She stood up and began to unfasten the buttons that held the dress together over each shoulder.  When one shoulder fell open, she glanced at me, which got here another light whack on one calf.

"A cunt never looks her Master in the face unless told to!  Your eyes are always looking downward."  Her eyes snapped back to a view of the floor, along with a proper verbal acknowledgment.  In a few seconds, her dress dropped to the floor, and she automatically tried to hide behind her hands.   "Hands behind you, cunt!"  This time there was a slight hesitation, but was short enough that I pretended not to see it.  "Back in your squat position," I ordered.  She dropped back to the floor.  This time her head was down voluntarily, as she tried to hide her embarrassment.

"Now, cunt, we are going to have a classroom session so that I can see how intensive your knowledge is of various body parts.  When I touch something, you tell me what it is called."  This was another mind game that would play on her embarrassment reflex.  I suspected that she could barely talk about female anatomy to her Doctor, let alone to any man.  I put the tip of the crop against her mouth.  "What is that and what is it for?" I asked.

"My mouth, Master, and I eat wit..."  This time the crop came down across her bare back - not extremely hard, but enough to hurt.

"Who in hell is 'my' and 'I'", I demanded. "Are you just stupid, or are you trying to piss me off for some reason? Or are you trying to hide from me the fact that it is a cunt's mouth?  You are Stephanie, or a cunt, or a girl - not I or me or anything of value."

"It is Stephanie's mouth, Master," she blurted as the tears freely flowed.  "Stephanie eats and drinks with it."

I put the crop under her left tittie and lifted it slightly.  "And this?"

"It is a Stephanie's breast, Master," she answered.

"Jeez," I exclaimed.  "You high society swells must have one hell of a fuck session with that kind of lingo in bed. Try again."

"Please, Master. It is really my... Stephanie's breast, or..." She groped for an unfamiliar word or words that she might have heard in some movie.  After a pause, she continued as a word finally came to mind. "...a knocker."  

I reached over and for the first time, felt her bare tits.  Wonderful. I weighed and kneaded for a few seconds, then pulled on the nipples.  "Breasts are what a normal woman has.  A cunt like you has tits, titties, boobs, ta-ta's, hooters, jugs, bazookas, headlights, knockers, hand candies - not breasts.  Remember that."

I dropped the end of the crop down and between her spread legs, then up into her partly spread crack.  I wiggled it from side to side to allow it spread the pussy lips and enter upwards as far as it would go.  Once again, her expression showed that the reality of bondage was far beyond her previous dreams of what the experience would be like.  I looked at her, waiting.  She finally remembered her orders.

"That is my... pussy, Master."  Well, at least upper class women knew a little about sex slang.  I had expected her to use some medical term like vagina or uterus.

"Well, the cunt really does know a little.  It is also your twat, snatch, crack, box and lots of other names."  I moved around behind her and stooped down to get a look at her little ass dimple.  When I lightly touched it with the end of the crop, she almost jumped up.  "And that?" I asked.

She hesitated long enough that I began to think she wasn't going to answer.   Then very slowly, she said, "That is my... Stephanie's..." another long pause, then very softly, "...ass..." pause,   "...hole, Master."  It had probably never occurred to her that her poop chute would come in to play in a sexual situation.  This section of her anatomy would be something that was never mentioned to anyone, let alone a man.  I assumed that even if she ever had to speak to her doctor about a problem in that area, she would resort to euphemisms.

I had her stand up, unlocked the collar chain from the wall, then led her out the door and into the next room - the one that was set up as a bondage chamber.  First, I spread her legs with two chains to her ankle bracelets.  Then on went a long single glove with her arms behind her back.  I laced it up snug, but not so tight as to cause her elbows to touch.  I needed to break her in carefully to tight bondage - any physical damage would ruin the whole week for both of us.  I wanted her addicted to, not repelled by B&D.

I taped two large cotton bandages over both ears.  Her hair was still in a ponytail, so I fed her trusses though the back hole of a plastic whole head mask.  This was then rolled down her head like a large condom.  Before it covered her mouth, I inserted a perforated plastic ball gag then continued unrolling the mask down to her neck.  It fit very snugly.  She could breath through the nose holes and through the ball gag, but was blind and deaf.  I connected a chain from the ceiling, loosely,  to the back of her collar so that she could not fall down and hurt herself.  Then I stepped back and enjoyed the whole scene. 

For the first time I allowed myself full play with my hands over her body.  By the time I had pinched and pulled nipples, spread pussy lips and played around inside, and my finger had plumbed the depths of her asshole, my nuts were about to explode.  It was time for my first reward.  I unhooked the collar chain, bent her over and attached it to the end ring of the single glove.  Now she was spread, doubled over and wide open from behind for any use I wanted.  My dick had a choice of two passageways, but I decided to stay on the normal path.  I stripped, lubed up with spit, grabbed hold of both of her hips then began to slowly enter her love channel.   I had to go very slowly, since the stimulation was almost at the boiling point even before I entered her.  I managed to not shoot off in the first few seconds, but it still was just a very short time till I exploded into her.  I knew that future acts would last longer.

During this time, there was no sound from her, and no struggling that I could detect.  I had no idea if she was enjoying herself or not.  I was absolutely sure that she did not cum at this time, but I would soon handle that.  I hooked her back up into the original vertical standing pose, then strapped on a butterfly vibrator, which I set to low, then sat back to watch. 

As soon as the pulsations started on her clit, she began to twitch and wiggle in her bonds.   With my previous girls, I had done this enough to be able to tell how far along the orgasm path they were, but with this slave, I had no idea.  If she had diddled herself just before we drove up here, or if she was discovering that bondage was much better in her imagination than in real life, it might take a while.  On the other hand, with the anticipation of this bondage for months and, if she had not relieved herself lately, then even on the low setting, she might blow in just a few seconds. 

The butterfly was definitely having an effect.  I could hear a low moan, and her limbs would give small jerks at random times.  I moved the intensity up a few notches.  This really made a change.  She threw her head back and her legs pulled on the chains.  In a few minutes, I could see a sheen of sweat on her body.  Good.  I didn't have a frigid slave here, I knew.  I also knew that it was only a short time till she went over the edge.  I cranked the knob to full and that did it.  From the gag came a long "AHHHHHHHHHHHH" and her body suddenly shook like a dancing puppet for a few seconds, then she dropped her head forward as far as the collar would allow and stood there with post orgasm muscle spasms.  I turned off the vibrator.

I unhooked her, led her back into her chamber and laid her on the bed, still with the mask and single glove.  I manacled her ankles together and hooked the collar chain back onto the wall.  With that, I left her to herself for a couple of hours.

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The Mountaintop

A few times, the Sheriff dropped by - he would pull up to the gate and honk and I would open it remotely - and every time he found me at my desk, buried in phony flowcharts and printouts.  After a cup of coffee and a pleasant chat, he would leave still satisfied that I was just a young computer geek who liked privacy.  Plus, I would donate a modest amount to the local Officers Fund every year, just to underscore how law-abiding a citizen I was.  I also dropped a hint that I liked girls, and that one or another came to visit me every now and then.  That would give me an out if he and a client just happened to arrive at the same time.

I had begun to work on my cave dungeon, between clients.  Since I was averaging only a couple of customers per week then, I had plenty of time on my hands.   I had to rent a major jack hammer to get a trench cut for water and power conduit, since the mountain only had about two inches of soil over rock.  The connections were hidden underground in such a way as to be almost untraceable even if the main electrical or water at the hotel was worked on, or inspected. The cave entrance wasn't visible from outside of my property, and in fact was barely visible through the trees up close, but I needed to disguise it completely.  After several tries, I had success with a heavy door, cut to fit, with light weight cement carved into replicas of the local rock on the outside.  It wouldn't fool anyone who knew it was there, but the average person could walk right past it and never see it.  I went to a lot of trouble to make sure that a visible path didn't develop between the cave door and the hotel, mainly by placing strategic rocks that could be stepped on without leaving a trace.

Inside, I used many loads of clean river sand to level up the floor, then installed some permanent lighting through out.  These lights could be turned off or on individually at need.  Water only went to a small shower and a sink.  Under the sand was a sewer pipe, but it was for future use, since I didn't know how the inside would finally turn out. 

The cave work went fairly slowly.  For one thing, I wasn't sure if I would really use it, and for another I was enjoying myself in other ways.  I was becoming very wealthy as my stashes of gold coins grew.  I had gradually converted my inheritance to gold pieces also, which meant that I had no income from interest anymore, but this was vastly offset by the huge runup in gold values over the years and had massively increased the value of my original inheritance.  I was now fairly litigation proof, as my accountant called it.  All I had that anyone could know about, was this rundown hotel, worth almost nothing on the real estate market.  I did a little phantom programming work for some nonexistent companies so that I could claim at least a living income.  Low enough not to pay much in taxes, but high enough to justify my standard of living - which was fairly ordinary on the surface. 

Since I was a very amateur welder, I enrolled in a short class at a vocational institute. In a few weeks, while nobody would mistake my work for a long time journeyman, it was solid and looked pretty good.  I made a set of very solid cages of various sizes and shapes.  Of course, since the entrance of the cave was only about the size of an ordinary door, I had to weld them together after I had carried sections into the dungeon.  These were made of three quarter inch steel bar stock on all sides, including the door and were totally escape proof.  The bars were set six inches apart - far too close for even the skinniest girl to squeeze through, but wide enough to give plenty of view.

Eventually, I had a full fledged dungeon, with all the paraphernalia that I could either dream up and build, or in some instances, buy at various sex shops.  Beside the cages, there were whipping posts, stocks of differing types, a real stretching rack, torture boxes and pits, hoists and pulleys, platforms of all kinds that slaves could be stretched out on, and a full set of toys that looked like the wall in a major sex shop.  In addition, there were rings mounted everywhere - on the cave walls, the ceiling where it could be reached, and the floor - that could have any and all kinds of restraints attached.

So far, I had not offered the use of it to any customer.  And in fact, was not exactly sure how I wanted to use it.  Then one day, one of my original clients dropped a bombshell in my office.

---------------------------------------------------

Three years before...

A couple of hours later, I went back to look at Stephanie.  Obviously, she was still laying where I left her.   I unlocked the chain between her ankle bracelets and the collar chain at the wall and pulled her to a standing position.  She just stood there waiting, obviously forgetting the proper protocol.    "You are one stupid bitch.  You are apparently not going to learn that you squat in my presence."  I had to almost shout so she could hear through the cotton covering her ears.  Then I let her have on across the butt, which elicited a scream.  She immediately dropped to the proper position.

I reached down and pulled her head mask off by rolling it upward in reverse.  As it came off, she was panting and wide eyed but remembered not to look up.  I moved behind her and unlaced the single glove and removed it.  She flexed her arms in obvious relief as her muscles assumed more normal positions.  "You may speak, slave," I said, wondering what she might say. 

Keeping her head down, she asked quietly, "May Stephanie go to the bathroom, Master?"

"To do what?" I asked.

"Stephanie needs to... pee, Master," she answered.

"Stand up.  Spread your legs wide."  I got the five gallon bucket from the bathroom and placed it between her legs.  "Ok, squat and hold your pussy lips spread.  We don't want you to spatter it everywhere."  I wondered if she could while I was watching.  Many women can't with an audience without several days of trying.  I realized that it would be far more embarrassing for her if I made her look at me, rather than at the floor, but decided not to order it.  I expected that she was going to have enough problems getting the flow started without that.  "Ok. Now piss."  Apparently, she really needed to go since after a short delay, a week dribble began to fall into the bucket.  It then became a full fledged stream as the relief from the bladder pressure set in.  Of course, the sight made the pressure in my cohones start to rise again.  When she finished, I made her empty it into the commode, then rinse out the bucket.  Then, using the collar chain, towed her into the equipment room. 

I ordered her onto the rack table face up, then attached all four limbs at each corner.  This time, she would be able to see as I felt and probed around her body.  Once she was pulled taut, stretched but not painfully tight, I said, "I am going to inspect every part of your body  When I ask, you will tell me what it is and what it is used for.  And you had better sound like the slave you are, not like the high society cunt that you used to be. Understand?"

"Yes, Master."  I don't think that the reality of the situation had really sunk in even yet.  I was beginning to realize that her previous expectations of B&D were probably from the movies.  That is, she had expected to be tied up with a few ropes, like a damsel in distress, then to have her tits fondled through her blouse, and finally laid on a bed and politely screwed in the missionary position.  By the end of the week, she would have a much fuller understanding of this particular phase of fetishism.

Spread out on the rack, she was beautiful. No fat at all.  Her skin was pure white - I doubt that she ever went out into the direct sun.  Her tits were, of course, not as high as a teenagers, but obviously had always been cradled by a bra anytime she wasn't sleeping.  I would wager that she put on one every day as soon as she got out of bed, whether or not she was going out.  Her nipples weren't huge, but stuck out enough to be able to be pulled and pinched easily. There was no hair growing anywhere below her neck since the cost of full body laser treatments was a trivial item to her checking account.  Shaving would be a daily chore for the lower classes, not for her type.  Her pussy was slightly parted and made the perfect female taco. Her little ass star was not very viewable at the moment, but I had already confirmed that it was a dream hole also.

I began to feel her up.  Starting at the calves of her legs, then moved up to her pussy.  I spread the lips and stuck my finger up her twat.  "What's this," I asked?

"My pussy, Master," she answered, then realized her mistake and tried to correct it before the whip laid across the inside of her thigh.  A scream, then "A cunt's pussy, Master." I looked at her steadily.  She looked back wild eyed.  Another whack on the other thigh.  "AEEEEEE!  Please, Master!  Don't whip Stephanie!"

"Then follow my instructions.  I will repeat them just once more.  From now on, if you forget any further orders, your skin is going to pay."  I held the crop over her face.  "Tell me what it is and what it is used for."

"It's my... Stephanie's pussy, Master," she blurted frantically.  "The Master uses it to have sex..." I frowned and waved the whip again.  "The Master uses it to... fuck me... a cunt, Master."  I waited, looking directly at her.  She frantically searched her memory for some more slang.  "The Master sticks his finger in it.  He climax...  He shoots off in it with his... dick.  I don't know what else, Master," she wailed.

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The Mountaintop

Mrs. M was one of my earliest clients and was one who, over the course of a couple of years, went from a shy light bondage enthusiast to a hard core convert who wanted tight, painful restraints.  And major punishment on top of that, usually.  She would sometimes book a room for a week at a time.  She was in her early 40s, a widow with apparently no other close family.  I had actually been to her house, a small mansion, since in those early days, sometimes I was interviewed before the person would commit to coming to my hotel.  I assumed that this booking was just like any other for her - that is heavy bondage and torture - but when her car was parked she asked me to carry a suitcase from her trunk to my office.  I automatically assumed that she had brought some B&D specialties for me to use on her.  As it turned out, that thought wasn't even in the same galaxy as the reality.  I waved her to sit down, then did so myself.

"Mr. Johnson," she began. No client knew my real name. I gave a different one to each.  "I wish to make a proposition to you.  In fact, in a way, I am going to attempt blackmail on you.  If you don't accept my proposition, I will expose your operation to the media." 

What the hell? I thought.  This is definitely not what I was expecting.  However, there was something in her demeanor that didn't quite ring true.  She was a sub, and in fact, a sub that was about as close to the bottom as a sub can get.  I couldn't imagine her wanting to be a partner with me, standing around in tight leathers with a whip. 

In a movie, this was the point that I brought out a silenced pistol and disposed of her.  But, since the deadliest weapon I owned was a shovel that I rarely used to dispatch the odd snake or so, major violence wasn't an option.  I waited till she started again.

She pointed to her suitcase.  "Please put that on the table over there."  As I began to comply, she continued, "I want to be a full time slave.  From now on.  A real one with a real master who has the power of life and death over me.  In tight bondage and instant punishment whenever I don't give perfect satisfaction.  Or with a master who will whip my skin off just for the pleasure of hearing me scream."  She stepped over to the suitcase, flipped the latches and opened it.  "If you accept my proposition, this is yours and another one like it in the car."

If eyes could actually bug out, mine would have looked like a cartoon character's.  The luggage was packed solid, side to side, top to bottom with stacks of 100 dollar bills.  Speechless, I looked at her, undoubtedly with my jaw hanging down.

"I have sold everything - house, stocks, properties.  I have been working on this for over a year.  Believe me, these days it is very difficult to avoid suspicion when trying to convert property to actual cash. Anyone with more than five hundred dollars in his or her possession is considered a potential terrorist.   Anyway, every nickel of my worth is in these two suitcases.  They are yours if you accept my proposition.   Nobody will complain to the authorities - I have no close relatives or friends. Nobody knows I come here."

I flopped, rather than sat back down in my chair, still reeling from the events of the last few minutes.  Fortunately she let me have a few minutes of thought.  I already had a real dungeon, a fact of which she was ignorant, so that part was no problem.  But the idea of a slave - a real slave - a real person - that I would now have total responsibility for was daunting.  Besides, what would be my legal standing?  I was in the play slave business in which everybody was a willing participant. I knew full well that in our society, real slaves were illegal, whether the slave wished it or not and the instant that she no longer had a choice, then she was a real slave. 

I wondered about her threat to expose me if I didn't agree.  Then I realized that a woman who would have traded her entire past and future for a box of cash was probably serious. 

I let out a long breath and nodded. "The offer is attractive, to say the least, and apparently I don't have a choice.  So, consider yourself a real chattel."

"Thank you, Master.  A girl is grateful and expects to be fully punished for putting the Master in this situation.  Master of course, realizes that he can now solve the problem of blackmail by disposing of a girl's body and keeping the money." 

Another deep breath as the reality began to sink in.  "Take your clothes off, then kneel on the floor, head down and hands behind your back."   I went down to the cave to get a small item from the refrigerator.  When I reentered my office, she was in the perfect position, naked and waiting.  I snapped a pair bracelets on her wrists, then locked them together behind her back.  I held a glass of water to her mouth, and said, "Drink this."

I went outside to make sure that everything was locked up, including the gate.  By the time I returned, the GHB in her water had taken full effect. 

I tied a short rope around her neck for a leash, then ordered her to her feet.  She was conscious, but totally unaware of where she was.  We exited my office, started slowly down the non-trail in the back till we came to the cave entrance, with me making sure that she didn't trip in her stupefied state.    I slowly towed her toward the back and  opened a door to a holding cage, about four feet wide, eight feet tall and long.  Removing the leash, I pushed her in, walked over and picked up a bucket and a single blanket and set these inside.  Then I closed the door and padlocked it, leaving her wrists manacled behind her.  I wondered how long it would take for it to sink in, once the date rape drug wore off,  that she had gone from living in a mansion to about thirty two square feet of steel cage.   

Leaving the cave, I was still in a state of mild shock.  But I had to immediately handle a couple of items.  First was a gigantic pile of cash that had to be hidden.  That would be brought into the cave for now.  The other was her car.  That item would take some thought.  I couldn't sell it, it wasn't mine.  But I couldn't leave it here - it was a potential connection from a now missing rich widow to me. 

I don't drink.  I keep some different types of high quality booze on hand just because some clients expect it, and sometimes it helps to calm the jitters of a new guest.  Nevertheless, I poured myself a fairly stiff drink of brandy - I think - and sat back to do some real cogitation.  First off was what would I do with the money?  It couldn't just be kept laying around in the form of cash - all that would do is lose a percentage to inflation every year.  To convert it to gold coins, or bars, would be a major operation and probably dangerous.  I could move my current stashes of coins from place to place if needed.  Gold is so valuable that even a few pounds is worth a fortune.  But moving gold in the hundreds of pounds would be very risky.  Plus, my bookie assumed that I had some lucrative cash business somewhere that accounted for my purchase of gold every month or so, but if I started showing up with massive amounts of cash he would start wondering.  The risk was that he would want to get in on the operation, whatever he thought it was, and wouldn't take no for an answer.  And if the word got out that I was sitting on massive amounts of cash somewhere, my lifespan would probably be measured in very short increments.  Or I would wind up sitting in a police station being asked questions for which I would have no answers.  Besides, any legitimate money was still a target for civil lawsuits.

High finance was beyond me.  I knew nothing about laundering huge amounts of money.  Or offshore banking.  I decided that one brandy wasn't going to solve the problem.

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Three years before...

By noon, Stephanie had named all her parts, and their uses over and over.  I gave her additional descriptions whenever she ran dry of words.  Of course, these were just all mind games designed to break her out of her stuck-in-the-mud upper class snobbery.  I then fed her by hand, watered her and then installed a ring gag in her mouth.  She would be gagged off and on all week, for greater and greater periods of time so that she could become adjusted to wearing one.  Then I began to turn the capstan to tighten up her bonds.  In a few moments, she was bowstring tight and trying to protest around the gag.  I left to get my own lunch.

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The Mountaintop

The next morning I discovered that Mrs M's (her name would now be Pancake) automobile was a rental.  That was a relief, since all I had to do was drive it back to her hometown, turn it in with a story about her being ill or something, then ride the bus back.  The money was still a future problem.  But for now, the idea that I now had a real woman under my power and for the first time, I would decide what the daily routine was, not her.  I made her some breakfast, then headed for the dungeon.  She was awake and sitting on the blanket as I pushed the tray through the small slot at the front of the cage.  I had her stand up, with her back to me so that I could unlock her wrists, then informed her of her new name, and began to make preparations to begin to break her in to her new life.   When she finished, I unlocked the cage, marched her over to a dual whipping post and soon had her spread eagled vertically with only her toes touching the ground.   Then I took some liberties with her body, poking my fingers into her asshole, then her pussy.  I pinched and squeezed her tits for a while.   She was a good looking woman to be over 40.  Somewhat overweight, but that problem could be easily fixed if I wished. 

I pulled her nipples hard enough that she tried to move toward me for relief.  Of course, she could barely wiggle, let alone move forward.  "Listen up, bitch," I started.  "You are here by your own choice. Forget your old life and the outside world.  As far as I am concerned, you are nothing more than a cunt, an asshole, a mouth and a pair of tits.  All you care about from now on is my enjoyment.  Anytime you fail to please me in the slightest, I am going to stripe your body till you think it is on fire.  Or, I may do it, as you mentioned in my office, just for the pleasure of hearing you scream.  As for right now, you are getting the leather so you may realize that your little fantasy is now real."

I walked over to the equipment wall and selected a whip.  Actually, it was a punishment strap with a handle and a wide stiff leather tail - wide enough that, while very painful, would not cut the skin.  Moving behind her and to the side, I took aim and laid it across her back - not as hard as I could swing, but still a hard stroke.  The reaction was immediate as she gave out a ear splitting shriek and frantically jerked around in her chains.  In twenty seconds or so, I landed another one below the now livid horizontal mark across her back.  Again the scream and struggling.

After twelve strokes, her voice was giving out and her strength was gone.  She just hung in the chains by her wrists.  Her back and butt were crossed horizontally with bright red inch wide stripes.  I backed up and sat down out of her view and watched for a while.  The erotic feeling of power over a helpless slave was almost overpowering, and nothing like I had ever experienced with paid customers - or with my previous girlfriends, for that matter.  Getting up, I walked in front of her and bobbled a tittie again.  She was reduced to whimpering her willingness to do anything for the Master.

"Does the girl realize that she is a real slave, now?" I asked.

"Yes, Master. Please Master."  Ok, it was time for some relief.  My rod was a solid steel shaft now.  "Ok, I am going to let the slave suck me off.  If I like it, I will put you back in your cage.  If you displease me, I will hang you back up and give you 10 more strokes.  Understand?"  Actually, I wouldn't do it to her again. I wanted a compliant slave, not a completely broken husk of a woman.

"Oh yes, Master.  Let a girl show her gratitude," she pleaded.   I loosened the chains to her wrists, then unlocked them.  Fastening them behind her back, but leaving her ankle chains on and her legs spread, I told her to drop to her knees and get started.  There is nothing like a whip to put enthusiasm into a job.  She outdid herself on my dick, and soon was swallowing the result.  I put her back in her cage, unfettered this time, and went back to my office.

Over the next few weeks, I dropped hints that she was miles away from the mountain top hotel.  Due to the drug, she had no memory of walking to the cave, but I didn't want her to know that she was on the same property.  Just in case.

I began an Internet search on money laundering, making sure to use an offshore anonymizing website.  My problem being, that while I was not opposed to paying my share of taxes, I could just imagine the result of my turning in a tax form for the year with several million dollars in income.  That was a no-go for sure, so I was forced into the laundering process.  It didn't take much searching to realize that I was out of my league and the amateur websites were not going to help.  I would need some professional advice.  So, I got in my car and headed for the most professional money laundering adviser that I knew - my bookie.

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Three years before...

After lunch, I checked on my racked slave, and found her moaning in pain, although in fact, the tension was far less than some of my later clients wanted and would suffer for hours.  We were only halfway through the first day, and I am sure that she thought that she had hit the bottom of B&D degradation. It was time to move on.  I released the tension, and the gag, then unsnapped her wrists and ankles.  I led her back to her bed, manacled her up and left her.

Later that afternoon, I was back.  This time she was actually asleep in her bonds, obviously worn out from the events of the morning.  What she didn't know was that what she probably considered to be the most intense bondage, was actually just casual play to an experienced bondage girl.  I woke her up, set her over the bucket to piss, then towed her back to the equipment room.  This time to another table, more of a sawhorse looking contraption.  Bending her over, I snapped a hook through the front ring of her collar, then spread her legs and fastened them to the feet of the table.  Her wrists went behind her back and were locked together, then connected to a short chain to the ring on the back of her collar.  I shortened it enough to be painful, but not excruciating.  Her head was over the end of the table, with her looking at the floor.  Her boobs were dangling through two holes in the table top. 

When I walked around to the front of the table, I was totally naked, the first time in her presence.  I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back, just about level and looking straight at my dick.  She began to realize just what was coming up next, but I am not sure that she believed it yet.  I doubt that she had ever sucked cock even in her masturbating fantasies.

"Please, Master, Stephanie can't..." She couldn't bring herself to say the word, or couldn't come up with a description of sucking dick.

"I am willing to bet that Stephanie, can," I answered. "But I am feeling pretty good right now.  I'll give you a choice.  You can either suck me off, or take ten strokes of the whip on your inner thighs.  Which would a slave girl prefer?"  I had a pretty good idea, since I had learned years ago that a woman's inner thighs were the most painful part of her body under the whip, as Stephanie had found last night.  Just to help her make up her mind, I let go of her hair, moved to the other end of the table, and laid a good stroke of the crop on an inner thigh.  This got a long "AAAEEEEEEE."  Then she choked out, "I'll suck your dick, Master.  Please let me suck your dick."  The pain was such that she didn't realize that she had again used the forbidden pronouns.  I ignored it this time.

Back around to the front of the table, I moved up close enough to give her a chance to start.  I was curious as to how she thought it was done.  And as she started, she did it very badly.  She stuck her tongue out and barely licked the side of my penis.  I noticed that she deliberately avoided the end hole - even she knew what came out of it.  "You are not doing very good, slavegirl," I said sternly.  That got her to licking a little harder, but still on the side.   "Take it in your mouth, bitch."

She hesitated, then barely put her mouth over the head, but still tried to keep her tongue away from the end.  Obviously, a lesson was in order.  I pulled away, picked up the plastic head mask from last night, threaded her hair through the back hole, then began to roll it down.  When it got to her mouth, I inserted a ball, one that was considerably larger than the one she retained this morning.  Again, this ball was a safety one, with passages through which she could breath if her nose stopped up. Once the head mask was snugly in place, I unsnapped the chain that was holding her arms high on her back, then moved it up two more links.  To the point that I could hear her protest.  Finally, I clamped a pair of clothespins on her dangling nipples.  Apparently, that didn't give her a pleasant erotic feeling, since she was shouting into her gag and wiggling around in the limit of her bonds.  I left her to think about her errors.

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The Mountaintop

I was on a plane headed for Grand Cayman, courtesy of the advice of my booki... my financial advisor.  Once there, I contacted the recommended individual - an officer in a fairly well known offshore bank.  He assured me that all of the latest news given out by the taxing authorities of both North America and Europe about the end of the line for tax avoiders, was pure hokum, designed to panic and scare anyone who thought about trying to protect their money from oppressive taxation.  When I indicated the amount that I wanted to deposit, he became most helpful.  Of course, I didn't have the cash with me, and in fact I had no idea how to get it to a foreign bank, but I was assured that the problem was a trivial one.  After enjoying myself on the golden beaches of that tropical island, I headed back to my hotel armed with an account number and a set of instructions.  Within a couple of months, the problem was solved and I was now an undercover millionaire.  And that didn't even count the very considerable stashes that I had before the new permanent slave arrived.

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Three years before...

It was almost dark before I checked on Stephanie.  As I expected, her body was complaining mightily about being held in that restricted position for several hours.  I also expected that her jaws were close to making her think that she was going to expire from pain.  I unsnapped the wrist/collar chain, and let her arms move to any position they wanted, but still attached together behind her back.  Then I began to remove the head mask.  She was moaning as it came off.  Lastly, I unclamped the clothespins from her nipples.  Just that act made her scream with pain.  I left her alone for a few minutes to so she could try to get her pains decreased somewhat.

When I came back in, I stood in front of her, pulled her head up by her hair, and said, "Is a slave girl ready to really give head.  Or would she like to be trussed up again the same way, but all night this time?"

"NO, NO Master! I mean... Stephanie means yes Master!  Stephanie wants to suck your dick!  Please let Stephanie suck you off, Master!  Please!"  A more pitiful set of pleadings I hadn't heard in a long time.

I stepped forward, and offered the tool to her mouth.  This time there was no hesitation.  She immediately swallowed it to the extent that she could without gagging, and commenced to suck and lick.  All I had to do was stand there and enjoy the view as her mouth worked over my rod.  When I knew that the end was near, I grabbed hold of her hair again, and said, "Make sure that you don't spill a drop, unless you want your bottom worked over again with this crop."  Somehow she managed to nod with a mouthful of myself without missing a beat. When the explosion came, she almost choked on the load, but managed to get it down with no spillage.  Just to make sure that the whip didn't have a target, she pursed her lips around my cock as tightly as possible to make sure that nothing went astray.

"That was very good for a new slave girl," I complimented. "If I ever sell you to a border bordello, that is an act that you will perform several times a night.  Now you'll know what to do.  Clean me up." She licked me clean and I released her from the table.  She had had enough training for one day, so I led her back to her bed and hooked her collar to the wall chain.   Tonight I would let her sleep more comfortably, with her hands manacled in front of her, but with a chain too short to reach her twat or anything close to it.  I brought her a good dinner this time - no cutlery, of course- and made sure that the bucket was available, then turned the lights down and left.

In my opinion, her training was coming along well, at least for the first day.  I would like to have known if she was enjoying herself, even if in a masochistic way, or if she was regretting the entire impulse for B@D and was wishing for the week to end. 

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The Mountaintop

Pancake was working out just fine as my personal slave.  Depending on which set of clients that I might get during a given month, sometimes I would go weeks without an opportunity for sex since many of them did not want the actual act during their ordeal.  Now I could have it anytime I wanted, and I wanted it often.  It took a while for the fact to finally sink in that this was a woman to which I could do anything, that I didn't need her permission, or worry about a law - just do whatever I wanted.  She wanted no part of the whipping post after her first session.  She made sure that she never made a mistake, or displeased me in any way.  I wasn't sure if her eagerness was because she was enjoying herself, or because of the whip, but either way, she was a total slave.

I attached a permanent chain to her neck collar, then to a very heavy eyebolt driven into the back wall rockface.  This was long enough for her to reach any part of the cave, but was about 20 feet short of the entrance.  I installed a kitchen and Pancake became my cook, not only for me, but for any stayover guests.  She still usually slept in her cage at night, but was normally let out during the day.  When she was not cooking or cleaning, she was usually chained, strapped, or tied in some kind of tight bondage.   I installed a nice queen sized bed for me just inside the length of her chain, but to keep her off of it during times that I was not there, I would use a lock to remove ten or so feet from the slack in her chain.  Some nights, I would sleep with her, and for my security, always with her hands secured in some way - behind her back, or attached to the head board, or whatever.  And on some nights, she wore a full mask and gag or other restraint, although obviously, her legs were almost always free.  Her forty year old body was lush and fun to play with and every hole got a continual workout.

I spent some time making a video of her for her old friends.  First, I dressed her up to look like the upper class widow that she used to be, then cut to scenes where she was totally naked and at a snap of my fingers, immediately climbed on the bed, bent over and pulled her ass cheeks apart for my entry.  Then on her back, wrists chained to her ankles, holding her legs wide for use of either hole.  That was followed by a scene where she was be pumping my pud with her mouth and then swallowing every drop in a close up.  Finally, as an ending, her tongue reaming out my asshole and making sure it was squeaky clean.  I made sure that while my face never showed, hers was unmistakable.  Alas, while the video was fun, the idea of mailing the DVD to her friends was impractical.  But it was fun to think about.

Then I got an idea for my online server.  I used her as a model for pictures of every kind of bondage that I could think of and in every piece of equipment that I had.  Even some scenes of torture, such as racking, whipping and suspension.  Of course, I made sure that in all pictures, nothing appeared of me except maybe for a whip holding hand, and she always appeared in a full head mask to make her totally unrecognizable. Besides being a lot of fun, at least for me, my new and less experienced customers could now pick and choose between various kinds of bondage and torture, some of which they had never heard or thought of.

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Three years before...

The next morning, Stephanie had no breakfast, for which there was a definite reason.  I strapped her back into the sawhorse rack in the same way as yesterday, but this time added a large ring gag.  I wanted access to her throat, but also wanted her to be able to scream and shout, but not talk.  To test the setup, I gave her a couple of strokes with the crop across her butt.  Two screams of "AAAAEEEE" showed that the installation was satisfactory.  Then I sat down in a chair in front of her.

"Did you ever see the film, 'Deep Throat'", I asked.  She shook her head to indicate no.  Which I expected.  There was no way that Mrs. Hotty Tottie the swell would have ever seen something like that.  "Well," I continued, "it was about a girl who could take an man's entire  cock into her mouth, all the way down her throat.  And the way she did that, was to conquer the gag reflex.  That is what we are going to work on this morning."  I could see from her widened eyes that my slave girl was less than enthusiastic about the prospect, but I didn't want that to stand in the way of her education.

I had selected a dildo, in the shape of a long somewhat narrow pecker, and held it up in front of her eyes.  "Remember, I said," you are going to do your best not to gag.  If you hold it back, you will be rewarded by having your titties squeezed - if you fail, you get this."  I held up the crop.

With that, I pulled her head back with her hair, and gently inserted the dildo until it touched the back of her throat.  Of course, she immediately and involuntarily tried to heave.  Fortunately, her stomach was empty and all that came up was a thin liquid.  I gave her a good one across the back, and got the usual scream.  "You didn't even try that time," I said sternly.  "You have to do better than that."

I inserted it again.  I could tell that she tried to hold it back, but the reflex was too strong, and the stomach muscles started their heaving again.  I knew that in the short week to follow, that there was too little time to accomplish the suppression of the gag reflex, but maybe we could get a good start.  Plus, it was something that she would never have anticipated in her wildest dreams of becoming a sub.

After a few more tries at increasing intervals, she could hold it back for longer periods, but was still a long way from emulating Debbie.  Now she was both mewing through her gag and crying, and had some red stripes on her back, so I put the dildo back on the shelf, removed her gag and left her alone for a half hour to recover.  There was a thin mess on the floor that she was going to have to clean up, but that would be later.

When I came back, the pressure in my nuts was signaling that it was time for release, so I moved the next training session up from the afternoon.   This would be another humiliation that she had probably never dreamed of, although it was nothing out of the ordinary.  I sat back down in front of her, making sure not to step in her previous mess.  I held the crop up and said "The cunt didn't do very well in that last training."

"Please, Master, " she pleaded.  "Stephanie couldn't stop.  Stephanie is sorry, Master.  Please don't punish Stephanie, Master."

I reached up and patted her cheek.  "Ok," I said.  "As long as the cunt tried her best."  I reached under and squeezed her tits and pulled on her nipples. "I'm going to reward you for at least trying."  The relief in her face as I put the whip down was overwhelming, although I had a feeling that I was going to enjoy the reward much more than her.

As I moved behind her, I scooped up a finger full of lube from a jar on the shelf, then began to anoint it to her little ass opening.  She wiggled at the touch - I was probably the first person in her adult life to touch it with a finger.  Then I moved back around front and, in front of her face, began to apply it to my steel hard rod.  Suddenly, it dawned on her just what was about to happen and she began to thrash and pull at her bonds. 

"NO! NO! NO! YOU... MASTER CAN'T DO IT TO ME IN MY..." she struggled with the word but finally got it out, "...ASSHOLE.  PLEASE DON"T! IT WON'T FIT!"  Now, I am just a guy with an ordinary sized dong - not one of those porn dudes swinging massive baloney between his legs - so I knew full well that it would not only fit, but fit very well.  But I wanted to be reasonable.

I stooped down to look her in the face.  "Are you sure you don't want me to shove my dick up your poop chute?"

She violently shook her head and blurted, "NO!  Please don't, Master."

"Are you sure?" I insisted.  "Some girls really like it and you probably will also, when you get used to it."  Again the head shake.  I stood up, walked back around and fingered her hole again.  It was really tight, and slippery with lube by now.  I backed up, aimed and really let her have one to her inner thigh.  Then to the other. 

If the rack hadn't been made of heavy lumber, she would probably have turned it over.  Besides jerking every muscle in her body, she let out a wail at the top of her lungs.  I watched for a while, and wondered if maybe she had changed her mind.  Back in front of her, I pulled her tear wetted face up and asked, "Are you sure you don't want me to plug your hole?"

She violently nodded, but I didn't know if she was now giving assent, or was trying to tell me that she was sure that she still didn't want me to.  I assumed the latter.  Holding the whip up again, I said, "How about a couple more of these, instead."

That got her vocal cords back in operation.  "Please plug my hole instead, Master," she stammered.

"Are you sure?" I asked.  "I certainly don't want to do something to you that you find distasteful.  I think the whip would be better."

Another massive shake of her head. "No, Master!  Please use my asshole as you want."

"Are you asking me to ream out your anal channel?"

She dropped her head, and nodded.  "Yes, Master."

"Then say it!" I ordered.

"Master, please ream out my anal channel."  Well, well, the slang was starting to flow without all the pauses, now.

"You actually want me to pack your shit, right?"

"Yes, Master.  Please pack Stephanie's shit."  Well, that was clear enough.  I was hoping that in my current rutting state, that I would last long enough to even get it inserted.  I decided that I didn't have a chance, so I left the room and took a walk out the back and gazed over the mountain valley vista.   In a few minutes, the steam pressure dropped below the red line and I went back to the room.

I wanted to make her entry into Sodom as easy as possible, so I put the head of my well greased tool at the entrance of her backdoor, and slowly pushed.  The unfamiliar sensations made her groan and grunt as it slowly went in.  Finally, I was inserted into her beautiful backside clear up to my balls.  I reached around and took one of her chest handles in either hand, and began to stroke in and out.  God it was tight, and her continual mouthing of "ahhhhhhh" and "uuhhhhh" didn't help.  It wasn't long before I gave her a cum enema.  When I pulled out, her hole almost snapped shut. It would definitely have to be stretched somewhat.

I took my tool back to her face, and said, "A good little slave girl always cleans her Master up, no matter where his dick has been."  I offered it to her mouth wondering if she would offer more resistance. Since I had picked up the crop and was holding it where she could see it, she decided that licking was the lesser of two evils.

I released her, connected her neck chain to a wall ring, then pointed to the floor and said, "Clean up your mess."  All she had to do it with was a rag and her piss bucket.  When she finished, I moved her back to her bed, chained her up and left to get her some breakfast.

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The Mountaintop

Another hard case client I had, was Mrs T.  She just almost couldn't get to her threshold of pain and a few times I had to pause and study the situation to make sure that I wasn't reaching the point of damage.  Early on, she had really chewed me out after a session for not reaching the level of severity that she had original indicated.   A masochist in spades, she was small, with absolutely no fat anywhere. Her small tits had large nipples that were unbelievably sensitive.  Just a clothespin on each nipple would have her screaming as if she were under a bullwhip session.

One day I received a request for an appointment from her in which she indicated that she wanted to be hanged by the neck.  That brought a instant doubletake from me, as I reread her comments to see if I had really understood.  I fell back in my desk chair, stunned, and wondered what to do.  I liked women, especially submissive women, and while I greatly enjoyed watching then writhe under the lash, or in the rack, I had no desire whatsoever to cause permanent damage, and damn sure no erotic desire to see one die.  I assumed that this was one of those totally maso/sub-women who fantasize about the ultimate torture.  There was no way that I was going down that road.

However, after some Internet searching, I found that there is actually a subset of BDSM where the participants actually choke their partners to unconsciousness.  Either by hanging, or with bags or other means.  After lots more research, I had discovered that it could be done, not exactly in safety, but without complete danger as long as the air supply wasn't cut off for more than a minute or so.  Still, I didn't want any part of this, and informed Mrs T. that we would have to talk at length about her request.  Within a few minutes, she sent back a request for a special meeting as soon as possible.  I could tell that she was not going to take no for an answer.

The meeting was interesting, to say the least.  I told her in no uncertain terms that I had no interest in seeing her lifeless body in my hotel, and if it happened, what did she expect me to do?  Show a paper where the lady gave me full permission to string her up?  I could frame it and hang it in my cell while I was serving a 99 year to life term.  She was insistent, and I finally agreed to try it once, and only for a short time, and a a massively increased fee for the session.

When the day came, I was on pins and needles, and within just a millimeter of canceling the session.  I had made sure that she was the only client that day, so that I didn't have any other distractions.   The first part of the day went normally - normally for her, that is, including painful sessions under the whip along with severe restraints and gagging. 

In fact, just her gag sessions would outdo most of my other clients' whip sessions for pain.  First, I would stuff her mouth full of a long wet strip of cotton cloth, and by stuff, I mean so full that no more would go in.  Then, on top of that would be a large rubber ball gag.  Since her mouth was already full, the ball wouldn't even start to enter.  I would move behind her, placing the back of her head against my chest for support, then pull as hard as I could on the ball straps until I could just barely set the buckle hook into the first hole.  After that, she could make almost no sound at all from her vocal chords, even under the most severe lashing.

A partial hood, enclosed her hair and covered her ears, which also had cotton pads taped over them.  She could see, but not speak or hear.

I hauled her up by her wrists till her only her toes were touching the floor, then spread her legs with chains, which had the effect of totally suspending her by her wrists as the angle of her legs caused her feet to leave the floor. Then I put the punishment strap to her as hard as I could swing it.  With the maximum gag in her mouth, she could barely give out an almost inaudible whimper as her back, butt and legs turned cherry red from the wide blade of the strap.  Then I let her hang for an hour, dropped her to the floor and laced the single glove over her arms as tightly as it would go.  The openings of the glove met together at the lace eyelets, and her elbows were touching behind her back. 

Her ankles were drawn up behind her and attached to the end ring of the glove, so that she was hog tied and immobile. 

Then, I picked her up bodily, and carried her to a special room that I had set up just for her.  I laid her on a pallet on the floor, on her side so that she could look up and see a genuine hangman's noose dangling from the ceiling.  I left her there for two hours.

When the time came, I didn't know how she was feeling, but my heart was racing in overdrive.  Unknown to her, I had a small oxygen bottle and mask just around the corner.  When I released the rope, I wanted her back to consciousness, ASAP.  She was still laying there, obviously, but since she never used a safe word or object, she was going to be hanged, no matter what she was thinking.

I released her ankles, stood her up and gave her a few moments for the cramps to subside, then picked her up.  At this point she began a feeble struggle and I could hear a low keening through her gag.  Apparently she was starting to panic at the idea of what was to come.   Despite that, I stood her on the little stool under the noose, facing away from the door.  When I adjusted the noose to be tight but without restricting any airflow she became very still.  When the time came, I only wanted her to be strangled, not to drop and break her neck.  Lastly, I pulled the front flap of the hood down to cover her eyes.  Now she was deaf, dumb and blind.  I left her standing there on the stool, with the noose snuggly around her neck, and went back to my office. 

As soon as I got there, I realized with horror that I had made a major tactical mistake.  If she fell off the stool, then when I went back I was going to have a body on my hands.  I hotfooted back to her room, entered quietly, then just sat down and watched and tried to calm myself.  Jeez!, I was moving into some unknown terrain here. 

I tried to imagine the emotions going through her mind at the moment.  She was blind and deaf, so she would have no idea when the stool was about to be removed.  She was gagged totally - there was no way for her to scream in panic that she had changed her mind.  And, while standing there waiting for the sudden drop, did the thought suddenly pop up that I might be some sadistic monster who would love to jack off as I watched her dangle, kicking at the end of the rope, as she expired?  After all, nobody knew where she was, or had gone.  She knew that we were all alone on a remote mountaintop.  All she could do was stand there in terror of what was to come.  She knew it WAS going to happen, and at this point there was nothing she could do about it. All she could do was wait... and wait... wondering just when that sudden drop would come.

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Three years before...

At noon, I reentered Stephanie's quarters with some new gear.  She immediately struggled to get up and off the bed and into a squatting position.  Good, she was finally learning.  "What did the slave girl think of her rear end experience, "I asked."

Keeping her eyes lowered, she answered, "A cunt's opinion is of no value, Master.  Any part of my body can be used at my Master's will, despite what she thinks or wants."

Wow.  She had been doing some serious thinking while laying there.   Her answer gave me hope that she was trying to enter the sub world willingly.

Putting her on her back on the floor mat, I opened a spreader bar, and placed her feet at the far ends and her hands through the holes between them and locked it shut.  Each end of a short piece of chain was attached to the ends of the bar, then the middle up to a ceiling chain.  I pulled until she was partially suspended, with her shoulders still on the mat, but her feet, hands and rear in the air.  Pulling out a enema bladder, I held it in front of her face.  "Did Stephanie ever see one of these?" I asked.

Looking up and down at it, she shook her head.  I knew that would be the case.  Something like this was not advertised in the swanky mags that she probably read. I touched the end of it.  "This end goes up your ass..." I moved my finger down.  "... along with this balloon.  When it is in, I squeeze on this bulb."  I pumped one of the bulbs on the end of the foot long device.  The bladder expanded to the size of her fist. I noticed that her eyes were expanding also.  "That keeps it from coming out, no matter how much you want it to.  This next little bladder keeps it from going any further in, as well as helping to seal your asshole.  I know that you don't want it to leak." I blew up the second smaller bladder. 

After letting her examine it for a moment, I opened the valves and the bladders collapsed.  I scooped up a finger full of ass lube and liberally spread it all over the front of the nozzle, then over her cute little ass star.   Then I inserted the tip and slowly began to push.  She was reacting by holding her sphincter closed as tightly as possible, so I said, "Open your rear end - act like you are trying to shit. This will feel much better if you stop fighting it.  I am not sure if she did, but it slid slowly in anyway.  Eventually the first bladder disappeared, then was automatically sucked in to the proper position once it passed her asshole ring.  I pumped it up, watching her eyes get even wider as she felt this foreign object expand in her rectum.  Then the second bladder, followed by the hose.  I hung the bag on the same chain she was suspended from,  then opened the valve and watched the little ball spin round and round as the warm liquid began to enter her.

I had it on a slow stream for her first time, so this would be a lengthy process.  To pass the time, I sat down on the floor and played around with her pussy, pulling the lips apart and pinching the inside, sticking my finger up as far as it would go, and in general just having fun.  The entire time, she was protesting the feeling, and begging me to stop, but the pleas were fairly monotonous, so I won't catalog them here.  Fairly soon, however, she began to cramp and I stopped the flow to let them subside.  To help, I grabbed her by the hips and wiggled her from side to side to help the water slosh around inside.  When the cramps subsided, I started the flow again.  This happened several times until the flowmeter showed that she could take no more at this stage.  I turned the water off and gave several feet of slack to the chain holding her up.  By now she was begging for relief.

"Master!  Please let Stephanie shit!"  I was glad to see that she finally knew the words.  I decided to have fun with her while waiting for the enema to have more effect.

"You mean that you want to sit on that bucket and poop into it?"  She vigorously nodded.  "With me watching?" 

"Yes, Master, please let me," she pleaded.

"Have you ever let any man watch you shit before now?"  She shook her head so hard her ponytail came loose.  The internal pressures were really becoming urgent.  "Then why would you want me to watch?"

"A cunt doesn't mind if you watch, Master.  Please let me go."

"Well, I need to leave you here like this for at least a couple of hours" - a lie - "so you can be cleaned out properly.  But if you really need to go, what will you offer me to allow you to shit right now?"  I waited for the answer.

She was almost crying now.  "Anything you want, Master.  Pleeeease."

"Tell me," I insisted, sternly.

"You can fuck me Master.  Anyway you want." I waited.  "I'll suck your dick, Master.  Anything.  Pleeeease."

"Will you lick my asshole?"  She didn't even hesitate. "Yes, yes, yes.  Anything."  "Make me a sandwich?"  "Yes, Master.  Anything. PLEASE let me shit."

It was obvious that she was now just babbling, without realizing what she was saying, so I stood behind her, lifted her up and set her ass over the top of the bucket.  I had a short and narrow board across the front top of the bucket that the front of her ass and legs could sit on so she didn't just fall in.  I reached between her legs, pulled up the end of the flexible nozzle, and opened the valve on the internal bladder.  It quickly deflated and was blown out immediately, as did a steady stream of water and shit.  Her relief was immediate.

In a few minutes, when her well finally went dry, I set her back on the floor and pulled her back up into position.  As I started to insert the bladder again, she plaintively cried, "Master, please don't do it again.  Stephanie will do anything you want."

I smiled.  "Don't worry.  This time it will be much less painful. You're pretty well empty, all this will do is totally clean you out.  Look on the bright side - you're not going to have to shit for days."  I got her ready, filled the bag again, and started the flow.  Sure enough, except for a couple of times of minor cramping, she took almost a whole gallon before the flow meter started to slow down - very impressive for a beginner.  She had a definite bulge in her lower abdomen where all that water was trying to find a place to fit.  Once again, I released her, set her on the bucket, but this time with a caution.  "Don't strain.  Just let it come out naturally."  In ten minutes or so, I had a clean slave, at least inside.  She hadn't had a shower since she arrived, and she was starting to get pretty ripe. But first...

I freed her from the spreader bar, then forced her to her knees, and with my hand in her hair, forced her to look at the contents of her bucket.   "Take a look and tell me what you see," I demanded.

She wasn't quite sure what I meant since she said, "It is the mess that came out of Stephanie, Master."

"Try again.  WHAT is it?"

She got it right this time.  "It is my shit, Master.  And water." 

I let go of her hair, then stooped to look in her face.  "A cunt is correct.  It is shit.  It is a natural product of your body.  Of anybody's body.  It isn't evil, it isn't going to pollute you if you touch it, it isn't embarrassing, it is just the natural result of eating.  It's just our western culture that has made any reference to it, taboo."

I stood up and pointed to the bathroom.  "Go take a shower."

This was one command that she welcomed and almost ran through the bathroom door.

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The Mountaintop

After almost two hours, I decided it was time.   I went over my actions in my mind one more time, then quietly moved over to the stool and grabbed it with both hands.   Taking a deep breath, I yanked it out from under her feet.  She only dropped a few inches, but that was obviously enough to close off her air supply.   Her legs immediately began the hanged man's kick, violently and desperately trying to find something to stand on to relieve the pressure.  Then her bladder let go and a stream of piss splashed across her legs and onto the floor.  It might have been an erotic view if I wasn't desperately concentrating on her movements and the time.  When my watch indicated 90 seconds, she was coming down regardless, but before that time, her movements gradually slowed to just a few muscle jerks as she lost consciousness.  When all movement stopped, I put an arm around her body then yanked on the release rope which detached the noose from the ceiling.  In seconds I had her laying on the pallet, the gag off and the cotton jerked out of her mouth.  I was very relieved to see that her body had gone into automatic recovery and was inhaling deep breaths on it's own.  Looking under the eye flap, I saw her start to regain consciousness, so I picked her up and carried her back to her room.

As per her instructions, I laid her on her back with her behind at the edge of the rack, attached the ring of the single glove to the edge of the table, then lifted both legs and connected them back, high and behind her head.  She was now wide open for fucking, later.  I sat down and diddled around with her twat and asshole for a few minutes, waiting for her breathing to get back to normal.  I was surprised to find myself hard as a rock.  Strange, after that experience.

Before she could speak, the gag went back in.  Not the rag, just the ball this time, in a normal closure.

Then I stepped up and inserted my dong up her love channel and and started a slow pump.  I had a vibrator standing by in case she wanted it, but it wasn't necessary.  I had my dick up her front slit, a finger stirring around in her asshole and the other hand pinching and pulling on her nipples.  In just a short while she went up like a rocket.  It was a massive orgasm - I could actually feel the muscles around her butthole and inside her twat contracting in spasms - the first time I had ever experienced that.  In fact, she made it way ahead of me - I had to hurry and catch up.

With that, I unhooked her, and left for my quarters for a shower. 

Two hours later, she still had not emerged from her bondage room.  Somewhat worried, I walked over and peered in.  She was stretched out on the bed, still stark naked, and sound asleep - obviously, the reaction of being condemned then reprieved at the last second was exhausting.  Since she was one of my divorcees, I knew that there was no pressing deadline that she had to meet to get back home, so I just let her sleep it off.

The next morning, she entered my office, very quiet and subdued,  which was not unremarkable given that she had just been hung by the neck for real.  In fact, she kissed me, dropped a heavy packet on my desk, and wished me goodbye until next time.

I was glad that I had no more clients that week.  Some time off was what I needed.  I retired to the cave, and relaxed for several days by reading, surfing and, of course, tying and banging my cave bitch.

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Three years before...

For the rest of the day, I just let Stephanie hang in chains - not painful, just, well, hanging around.  Her legs were spread wide, of course, and her arms were over her head, but not pulled tight.  I walked in and finger fucked her every now and then, and pinched nipples for fun.  And just to show that anything she had was available to me, in the late afternoon I fucked her pussy standing up.  Well, not only to show her availability - in fact, I was about to blow a pressure fuse myself if I didn't relieve myself.  And who want to use his right hand when there is a set of beautiful set of holes hanging around and available?

The next morning, she was up and waiting, and the surprising part, seemed to be cheerful.  My hopes that she would get into the sub scene went up considerably.

The last afternoon I had been working on another device that I dreamed up and from measurements that I made of her body as she stood in the chains.  It was just a three inch steel pipe, with a one inch pipe welded to it in the shape of a religious cross but then bent into a U that was just wide enough to fit under each armpit.  Up and down the back were rings welded at different locations as attachment points.  It fit into a larger pipe that I had mounted in the center of her room flush with the floor, by hammer drilling a hole in the concrete, then setting it in with quickset cement.  This method allowed me to remove the device after use, or take it away and modify it, or build something else to fit the mounting hole in the floor.

I put it in the mounting hole, and told her to stand with her back to it. To fit her body inside of the U, she had to raise her arms, then drop them over the small pipe.  I then manacled them behind the large pole.  I spread her legs out wide, which had the effect of making her hang by her armpits since her feet were no longer supporting her weight.  Two wide cloth slings were then placed around her thighs, starting almost at her crack.  These were attached to rings behind her shoulders and tightened until they supported a substantial portion of her weight.  Another large sling was placed around her waist and also connected to the vertical pole in such a way as to support more of her.  Lastly, her legs were bent up behind her and a chain connected from the cross bar to each ankle bracelet, again supporting part of the load. I adjusted the tension for a while, trying to get it all equalized out, then stood back and looked. 

It was a wonderful view - everything was in plain sight, and available for use except for her asshole, and I had other plans for that little item shortly.  As she hung, she was not in any pain - yet.  But the contorted position was going to start get uncomfortable fairly soon, then it was going to go downhill from there, painwise.  Just to forestall any protests, I installed a spider gag in her mouth.  This time she didn't try to fight it - just opened her mouth wide for its installation.  I left her head unattached so she could look up and down and around.

I picked up an ordinary dildo, about the size of an average dick and showed it to her.  "Remember yesterday when I plugged your cute little asshole with my dick?"  She nodded. "You're too tight.  It needs to be stretched to a wider diameter." She shook her head slightly, but I wasn't sure if she was protesting or not.  "If I sell you to a bordello, your butthole will be used as often as your pussy.  And some men are way larger than me.  You don't want to be damaged by an oversized cock."  That elicited a low "uhhhhhhh."  I didn't know if she was commenting on the idea of a gigantic dick up her ass, or my reminding her that she might be sold to a whorehouse, and by way of inference, that she wasn't going to be turned loose at the end of the week.

The dildo fit on a mount that had a clamp that could be slid up and down the vertical pole.  I attached it, squirted a goodly amount of lube on the end, then slowly raised it until it began to enter her behind.  Once it was fully seated, I locked it in place, stepped around in front, did some fingering for a few minutes, then left her to hang in the slings.

An hour later, I assumed that the pain and cramping levels would be rising significantly, so I entered for another look.  Of course, she had drooled all down the front of her body, from between her tits to  where it finally migrated to her crack, then to the floor.  She looked at me pleadingly, hoping that I had entered to let her go.  I checked everything, just to make sure that nothing was turning blue to indicate poor circulation, then began to strap on the butterfly vibrator.  I set it to low and watched her jump as the pulses first hit her clit.  I left for another fifteen minutes, then came back to find her moaning in a low tone and trying to wiggle her body where the vibrator was attached. 

While she was distracted, I unclamped the ass-dildo, slid it out and removed it.  Then I attached a considerably larger one, lubed it, and pushed it in.  That got her attention, as she started trying to shout something without being about to move her mouth muscles.  All it produced was noise and more dribble.  It turned the vibrator up slightly and left again.  

Another hour later she was halfway between heaven and hell.  The cramps from the unnatural position had set in big time, as did the feeling from the big object stretching her tiny asshole.  At the same time, she desperately wanted to come, but the vibrator was set at a position too low to push her over.  It was about time to take her down, since I didn't want pulled muscles to result.  I turned up the vibrator to medium and watched the immediate effect.  In a minute or so, I flipped it to high and watched her thrash around to the limit of her bonds.  Shortly, a long drawn out gurgling "AHHHHHHHH" announced that she had cum.  I flipped the butterfly off, then removed it.

Her head hung forward loosely for a few minutes as she recovered.  Then as the pleasure faded, the pain of her position began to return.  As did the moaning, which she probably did on purpose to let me know that she was in pain.  I stepped up to her and asked, "Would you like to be turned loose?"  She nodded vigorously.  I felt her arms and legs and pretended to be checking something.  Shaking my head, I said "No. You probably need another hour or two on the post."  That immediately brought a spasm of head shaking and a loud "OOHHHHHHH AASER," which I took to be a negative reply.  Pretending to think for a minute, I offered, "Well, if you want me to fuck you right now, I'll let you down when I'm through.  How about that idea?"  Another vigorous nodding session.

I spit lubed myself, stepped up to her and shoved my cock into her pussy - no finesse, now. I just hammered away.  I pulled her head back and said, "Give me some tongue."  She stuck it out and we exchanged mouth fluids until I blew a load into her.  This time I had to clean my own self up, which took a little time in the bathroom, but eventually I began to take her bonds off one at a time.  She could barely stand up, when I was done, so I pushed her onto her bed, locked her collar to the wall chain, and left.

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The Mountaintop

I was accepting no more clients, and told my existing ones not to recommend me to any others.  I told them the truth, that I had a full schedule of about two a week, three weeks out of the month, and any more would put us all in jeopardy of being exposed.  That kind of reasoning was something they could understand, since security was foremost in the minds of almost all.  All of my clients were wealthy - they had to be to afford my services - and the majority were married.  All to the same type of husband - a go-getting high pressure executive type who spent eighteen hours a day at the office and all weekends at the club talking about working at the office.  The rest were divorcees except for two widows.  All were between thirty and forty-five years of age, except for one fifty year old lady who was a real tiger.  I would have loved to have met her when she was a teenager - she could probably have squeezed a man's balls dry from across the room.

Some came on a regular schedule, some were limited to times when there husbands were off at a "conference", which probably meant they were shagging teenyboppers between bar sessions.  Some only scheduled when the hormonal pressures required release.  My ladies, as I thought of them, were to a girl, wonderful.  At least, they were once they got over the fright of beginning a really scary relationship.  Interestingly, only about a third required sex during their sessions.  For the rest, just the bondage and torture was enough, although I assume that most of them fingered themselves off at the end of the session.

Through my offshore bank, I had bought various stocks which were doing very well and I was well on my way to becoming a multi-multi millionaire.  My gold was doubling in value ever year, also.  After discussing the situation with my "financial advisor", I took a trip overseas, made some business arrangements, and while I was there, truly enjoyed myself.  When I got back, I was a contract programmer for a company in a foreign country, with an excellent income that would allow me to live the part of a wealthy businessman.  Of course, the company that I was programming for didn't exist, except in name, and the "paychecks" came in a roundabout way from my offshore account.  But the trail would be very hard to follow, and the amounts involved wouldn't interest anyone in spending that kind of money to trace it.  Of course, I had to pay tax on the income, but that was just an unavoidable expense of today's life.  I kept enough money in the local bank to match my lifestyle, but not so much as to be at risk someday if the exposure of my hotel came to light.  One week out of the month, I traveled.

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Three years before...

After lunch, I walked back to Stephanie's room to continue her education.  Once again, as soon as she saw me, she squatted in the proper position.  I wanted to see just how submissive she had become, if any.

"Get back on the bed, kneel forward with your head on the mattress."  She did that immediately with no hesitation.  "Now reach around behind your butt and spread your ass cheeks so I can inspect your asshole."  She did that act rapidly, also. After dipping a finger in the ass lube bottle, I stuck it in her and wiggled it around.  "It's still way too tight," I announced.  Of course it would be, since a couple of hours was far too little time to expect it to stretch any at all.  "Reach a hand under your pussy and stick your finger in your ass and tell me what you think."  This would test her compliance.  Self fingering your own butt is another of those things that she would never have thought of no matter how horny she was.   

This time there was a slight hesitation as my words sunk in, but she reached under, and after a little fumbling around, finally got her middle finger poked inside of herself.  "What do you think, I asked," amused at the situation.

"Uhhhh.  Yes, Master.  It... It... feels tight," she stammered. 

"Don't you think it needs to be stretched some more?"

Of course, there was only one thing she knew she could say.  "Yes Master, it needs to be stretched wider."  A very low voice this time.

"Ok, stand up."  I picked up the waist harness that I had brought over from my office, and began to strap it on her.  It was just a set of straps that fit around her waist and upper thighs which were connected by other straps.  It was an ordinary harness that could be bought in any sex shop.  But, for my purposes, what I wanted it for was the thin leather cord that started from the waist strap at the small of her back, went down through her butt crack, then v'ee off to come up on either side of her pussy slit and terminated at the front of the waist strap.

Once it was on and properly adjusted, I said, "Bend over and put your hands on your knees."  I picked up the larger dildo that I had used that morning, slathered lube on it, then began to push it up her anal channel.  She grunted and let out some low moans, but said nothing as it fully seated up to the rubber flange.  Then I fed the leather cord through the end eyelet, and attached it to the back of the waist strap. 

"How does your plugged ass feel," I asked.

She wasn't sure how to answer, but said, "I can feel it, Master."

I sat down on her bed, put her pillow behind me and leaned against the wall with my knees spread and the crop in my hand.  "Show me your gratitude."

She was confused for a moment, then realized what I wanted.  Clumsily, she managed to get down on her knees, then bend over and took my dick in her mouth.  She did a much better job of it this time.  The whip is a great teacher - if it were allowed to be used in public schools again, the grades would go way up and the discipline problems would nosedive.  Eventually she received a mouthful, and with her eyes on the crop, again locked her lips around the head so as to not spill a drop.  Once she had cleaned me up, I asked, "How does it taste?"

"Salty, Master." Interesting - Never having had a homosexual experience, and not wanting one, I had no idea of the taste.

I put her back standing in her loose chains with the dildo still in her ass, and left.

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The Mountaintop

I continued to try to add to my catalog of punishments and restraints.  I visited massive numbers of B&D websites, and every now and then got a good idea.  A few times, a client asked for something that I hadn't thought of.  I then would put Pancake in that device, or position, take a picture and add it to the list.

During all my time on the mountain, I only had two customers that I "lost."  And both of them quit for the same reason.  In one case the woman was married, and in the other she was a divorcee with a boyfriend.  Both of them had gotten their significant others to become interested in B&D, or more probably, allowed them to become aware of their own interest.  Both men accepted it with a will, and soon they could get all they wanted at home without need for my services.   

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Three years before...

Stephanie's physical bondage was coming along fine, but I needed to work some more on her mind.  In the middle of the afternoon, she was still standing in loose chains with the dildo. I decided to tighten them up.  Not to the stretching point, but to where she was definitely spread in the X with very little wiggle room.  I wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm, and set the controls behind her where I could see them but she couldn't.   I moved the chair directly in front of her, close enough to reach anything and sat down.

I held the crop up in front of her and said, "I'm going to ask you some questions and I want straight answers.  The thing that is on your arm is a portable lie detector, like store detectives use in retail shops.  Anytime I think you are lying, or not answering fully, or the machine says you are not being truthful, you are going to get this.  One hard stroke for every wrong answer.  Understand?"

She nodded vigorously.  "Yes, Master.  Please don't whip Stephanie.  Stephanie will answer anything you want, Master."  She didn't take her eyes off the crop while she was speaking.  Some women my get off on being lashed, but she definitely hated it. 

I reached around and turned on the little box - it beeped.  What I had told her was total bullshit.  It was just a cheap blood pressure monitor like you can find in any drugstore - I wasn't even sure it worked.  But I was counting on her lack of any technical knowledge of anything to not be able to see through my little deception.

I reached over, stuck my forefinger into her pussy in the shape of a hook, then pulled her toward me as far as the chains would allow.  Not for any particular reason, other than it was just fun.

"Tell me about the first time you were fucked, " I asked suddenly.

That caught her off guard.  It was definitely not the type of question that she was expecting.  She began to stammer, "Uh... I... My husband... Stephanie's husband took her while we were..."

"Stop right there," I said, and brought the end of the crop under her chin and made her lift it so she was looking at the ceiling.  "What do you mean 'took her?'  To the ball game? To the movies?  Are you trying to hide the fact from me that he fucked you?"

"Yes, Master, "she blurted.  "I mean... Stephanie means No, Master.  A girl means that Stephanie's husband fucked her while she was in college."  

I waited, but she had finished.  I lightly swatted her on the stomach.  "Keep going."

She was in anguish, trying to avoid the whip, but really didn't know what to say. 

"Tell me more.  Every detail.  Were you on top or bottom?  Did he suck your pussy?  Finger it?  Where was your tongue?  Your legs?  If you stop again, you get this."  I swished it hard enough to make an audible sound through the air.

"I was on bottom..." She was really getting flustered now, between the intimate questions and the possibility of the whip landing on her anatomy. "A girl was on bottom.  He stuck his dick in my...  a girl's pussy and worked it in and out.  We were kissing.  He was playing with Stephanie's breasts and..."  I stuck the whip under her chin again. 

"Breasts are what a normal woman has.  You are not a normal woman, you are just a slave cunt being trained for sale to a whorehouse." 

"...Stephanie's titties and nipples."  She was almost crying at this point in fear of the crop. 

It was like a detective's interrogation of a suspect.  I asked the same questions over and over in different forms, and she had to answer with the most intimate details that she could remember.  I kept glancing at the "lie detector" whenever she paused or hesitated, which made her frantically try to remember more details that she could blurt out.  For two hours I made her give descriptions of her most intimate actions to this point in her life.  Not just sex, but how she wiped her ass, and what it felt like to spread her legs to piss.  Anything that I could think of that might be embarrassing to her.  She had to describe over and over in excruciating detail, things that she would have refused to tell her Doctor before a life threatening operation. 

At the end of the session, she was a limp rag, barely able to stand up even though I had not used the whip on her for real. 

I removed the dildo from her ass, fingered the hole a little to check if it was looser. It was, but I knew that was only temporary.   Then I took the chains off and led her back to bed.  By the time I brought dinner to her, she was sound asleep.

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The Mountaintop

One of my clients who really got off on pain, scheduled a couple of days and requested something painful, but different from restraint or the whip.  I researched for several days, then found something.  A trip to the grocery store, then to the drugstore and I was ready.  At least, I thought I was. Then I decided that I needed to test it before disappointing a high paying client.  So, I tried a very small amount on myself...   I just a few minutes I thought I was going to die, then I was afraid I wasn't.  It was at least an hour before the pain subsided enough for me to stop sweating like a pig.  Mutha frack, I thought.  I wondered what the customer was going to think about the results of her request.

Her first day went about as normal, as she waited for her request to happen.  I assume she went to sleep disappointed but that was about to change.  About midnight, I snuck into her room and tried to get her ready without wakening her.  I was partially successful.  I managed to get her ankles connected to the corners of her bed, and was just attaching her wrists to the other end when she woke up.  I then straddled her stomach and pulled a split mask over her head.  Before I completely laced it up, I inserted a ball gag and buckled it behind her head.  Then I pulled on the lacing leathers as hard as possible till the splits were closed.  The leather of the mask was as tight as a trampoline all around her head. 

Finally, I grabbed hold of her ankles and pulled as hard as possible to take all the slack out of her wrist chains.  Then I reconnected the ankle chains to the last link that I could pull into the latch. Now she was bar taut and X'ed out on her bed.  And blind, deaf and dumb also.  All was ready.  This was going to be interesting.

My new device was just a vitamin capsule, opened and emptied of the product that came it it.  Instead, it was refilled with pure cayenne pepper.  Dipping my middle finger in some ass lube, I bent over her legs to spot my target, then poked the little capsule at the center of her ass dimple, then pushed it in all the way with my lubed finger. 

I turned the lights up full as to see everything, sat down in a chair and waited.  I wondered how long it would be before the capsule melted.  I knew that they didn't last long in the acid of the stomach, but wasn't sure about how fast it would dissolve in the rectum.  However, I was prepared for that also.  I had a disposable douche bottle with a small amount of vinegar.  My tests had shown that the mild acid would dissolve a gelatin capsule in just a few seconds.   I would give it about fifteen minutes before I used it.

As it turned out, it was unnecessary.  In less than five minutes she suddenly arched her back off the bed as far as her chains allowed, then I watched her muscles in play as she tried every way possible to break her way loose. It was a waste of energy - Conan couldn't have broken those bonds.  I could hear a low continuous noise, which meant that she was trying to scream at the top of her lungs.  The sweat began to pour out of her pores.  I wondered if that was the result of the pepper, or her exertions in trying to get loose.

 

In about thirty minutes, either she ran out of energy, or the pain had decreased considerably, and she lay on her back quietly.  I turned out the lights back to low, and left.  I set my alarm so as to wake up about two hours later so I could remove her gag and lessen the tension on the chains.

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Three years before...

The next morning, she must have heard me coming across the compound because when I entered her room she was already in her slave girl position.  I gave her breakfast, then let her shower as long as she wanted to.  When she had dried off, she came back into the room, squatted properly with her head bowed toward the floor and said, "A girl is clean, Master."

She was coming along nicely.  By this time I knew that she was a willing slave who was beginning to enjoy the actuality of her lifelong dream.   Any woman who was fighting the lessons would never have come so far this fast.  As I looked at her, I realized that her friends would never have recognized her.  Instead of a staid, perfectly turned out, upper class woman, here was a female squatting naked in a most unfeminine posture, pussy split wide open, hands behind her back, with clean but untidy hair pulled back in a teenage ponytail rather than a several hundred dollar coif, a scrubbed and shining face rather than cheeks spackled with layers of muck, and wide open natural eyes unsullied by black mascara goop.  I thought how unfortunate it was that I didn't have a permanent place to keep her, or I just might have.

She was broken to the bit, now.  All I needed to do for the rest of the week was to get her to like being ridden.

The rest of the week was just a series of B@D sessions.  Not much different than I had been doing for years with younger girls, including her niece Melody.  I continued the mind training and by the end of her week, she was well versed in all forms of sex slang, body parts, and degrading acts, and could use, do or say them without embarrassment every bit as well as a professional streetwalker.  She got a taste of just about every available bondage training technique, except for golden showers and scatology.  Those could come much later if she wanted to continue her education.  During the last half of her week, she was a bouncy little slave girl, enjoying the submission and humiliation of an owned nonentity. If it weren't for the fact that she had to get home before her husband, she would probably have begged to remain.

On the last night, just before dawn, I rudely awakened her, added a gag then hoisted her feet off the ground with the X chains.  I gave her a few good licks - not hard, but she knew she got them,  then proceeded to plow both front and back holes, before finishing up a load in her pussy.  I pulled her nipples for a few minutes, then had some fun playing around in her split crack.  I let out enough slack in the wrist chains to allow her feet to touch the floor, unhooked her ankle chains, then I left her standing there with her wrists over her head.

In a half hour or so, I returned, then walked up for a little more fingering this last day.   Then I said, "Ok slave girl.  You need to look really good hanging there.  A couple of buyers will be here in a little while to look you over.   They will probably want to fuck you just for good measure and to test out the goods." I paused to let her assimilate what I had said.  "Right now, I don't know if you'll be going to the Middle East or South America.  It depends on who offers the most money." I pretended that I was through, started to walk away, then turned around as though I had forgotten something.  "Just don't forget what you were taught this week.  In those parts of the world, slave girls who don't know how to act usually wind up missing their ears or nose. Maybe even their tits."  From her eyes I could tell she was truly terrified. After all, I had been telling her every day that her slavery was permanent - that I was either going to keep her or sell her. 

I walked back up to her, reached up and squeezed her tittie gently and said, "I would love to keep you, but with the money you'll bring, I can fix this place up as a real B&D palace.  I can lure Melody and her friend up here as a new set of slave girls.  When I get tired of them I can sell the pair on the open market like you and start with a new set."   I put a blindfold on her, left the gag in, then turned and walked out leaving a thoroughly scared girl standing in chains.  I left the door partially open - on purpose. 

A couple of hours later, I prepared for the final episode for the week.  I had been working on this last act at night, all week.  Fortunately, I had brought my media center hard drive along, and had about two thousand movies to select from. What I was looking for, was either a western or a foreign film.  I managed to put together a pretty good mix of audio, loaded it onto my laptop, then set up a menu for it. 

I had previously driven my car to the foot of the driveway so she couldn't hear it start.  I set the laptop on a stool outside of her door, walked down the driveway, started my car and drove back up to the hotel.  I parked between the office and Stephanie's room, turned the engine off, and slammed the car door twice.  I stepped over to the laptop, selected the proper menu item and pressed enter.  The laptop emitted a Spanish accented, "Buenos días,  Senor."   

"Good morning," I replied. " Did you have a good trip up here?" 

Another key press.  "Si Senor, Excelente."

"Would you care to step in my office for some refreshment, before we inspect the girl."

Another different voice. "Si Senor, Gracias."

I walked over and opened then closed my office door hard enough for Stephanie to hear.

After about fifteen minutes, I slammed my office door again, then headed toward her room.  Halfway across, I said in a loud voice, "She is in one of my rooms that I fixed up, Gentlemen."

I entered her room, set the laptop on a stool in front of the blindfolded and gagged girl and said, "Here she is Gentlemen.  Inspect her all you want." Then I played a random conversation I had recorded of two men having a conversation in Spanish.  I had previously made sure that Stephanie didn't speak the language.  When the conversation stopped, I walked up to her and began to feel all up and down her front, trying not to do it in a way that she was familiar with.  Then I reached around at the same time with the other hand and ran it up and down her back.  She had her legs together and didn't spread them, so I stepped back and said "I'm sorry, Gentlemen. This bitch is trained better than that."  I picked up the handy crop and laid one across her butt.  "Open those legs so they can feel anything they want, cunt," I said in as commanding a voice as I could muster.

"essss, assser," she whimpered through her tears and around the gag.  She split her legs as wide as she could.

I stepped up again and did a thorough feel job on both front and back, including lots of fingering in both holes.  Then I weighed her jugs, grabbed hold of her jaw and moved it back and forth and up and down, squeezed her muscles in her arms and legs, felt of her feet and fingers.  In all, trying to give a good impression of a pair of professional slave traders inspecting the merchandise.

When I stopped, I stepped back and said, "Gentlemen, feel free to try her out. She is a good fuck, a little untrained, but with great potential."

Another key press.  "Gracias, Senor." 

I rattled my clothes, then stepped up and began to pump my rod in her pussy.  I didn't want to cum yet, so I went faster and faster then finally simulated an orgasm."

"Senor Garcia, try her rear hole.  It is very tight."

"Si Senor."  Then I began to rod her asshole.  This time I did let go and pumped a wad up her chute.

"As I said, Gentlemen, she is some prime pussy.  Let's step over to my office and see if we can come to an understanding."  With that, I left the room and closed the door, leaving one scared and dispirited female, to say the least, hanging by the wrists. 

It had been fun, and the week had been seven days of heaven.  I would really miss the action from now on.

An hour later, I entered her room, unhooked the chains, fastened her hands behind her back and removed the gag and blindfold.  I hooked a short chain to the front of her collar, then towed her out the door and across to my office. 

As soon as the gag came off, she began a pitious pleading between sobs.  "Please, Master.  Don't sell Stephanie to them." Interesting. Even in her panic driven beseeching, she automatically spoke in the third person. "Keep Stephanie, Master.  The girl will be a good slave for you, Master." She dropped to her knees in the dirt and pulled on the chain and sobbed.  "Please don't sell Stephanie, Master," she repeated.

I pulled on the chain.  "Get up."  We entered the office, I turned her around, removed the lock attaching her wrists, then the wrist bracelets themselves.  I pointed to a sofa. "Sit down."  Then I unlocked and removed her ankle bracelets.  She sat there feeling of her now lighter wrists, looking around for the two gentlemen, then at me, but still not with any understanding of the situation. 

"I've decided not to sell you."   She looked at me with a blank expression.  "The week is over.  You have to get home before your husband gets back."

That did it.  Suddenly, comprehension dawned on her that I had not been serious about her permanent slavery, although she still assumed that there had been two other men here a short while ago. Then the waterworks started.  She broke down into a major female sob session that went on for almost five minutes.  When the river began to run dry, she just sat there on the sofa, rocking to and fro, and saying over and over, "Oh my God, Oh my God..."

"When you feel up to it," I said, "go into the bathroom and clean up.  Your clothes are hanging on the shower curtain rod. I will make us some breakfast."

Continued...  

Next.  How it all started.