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Title: The Tale of Pretty Ass
By: Paul Alexander
Email: pa4word@yahoo.ca
Story codes: M/f, mod., spanking, D/s, B/D, real, romantic, light
Synopsis: Young female lawyer into self-bondage pays a call on a master craftsman woodworker to request a piece of special furniture, and discovers her Master.
THE STORY OF PRETTY ASS
BY PAUL ALEXANDER
CHAPTER ONE
She made it home, just under the wire, hot, sweaty and tired from running the last three blocks in her 3-inch heels. Thank god her master only permits the five inchers in the evenings! As much as she adores wearing them, five-inch stiletto heel sandals are not the ideal choice for running in. Still, she made it in the back door with 30 seconds to spare this despite the ritual of fishing her key out from under her skirt where it hangs on the end of her slave chain. By fortunate chance, her skirt today was short enough that she could hoist the hem to her waist in order to reach the end of the slave chain where it dangles from her belly bangle. She still had to bend uncomfortably to get the key into the lock, as the portion of chain hanging from the bangle was only six inches long. In order to get her belly close enough to the lock; she had to squat slightly, which meant spreading her legs to the max in order to get her knees out of the way. On other days, when she might wear a longer and therefore, tighter skirt, she would have to strip it off before gaining access to her key. Being a slavegirl, she is never permitted to wear trousers. By this point in her slavery, the door lock ritual is a long established, familiar and well practised routine.
Getting in the door, she hurriedly punches the time clock, before even taking the key out of the lock and dropping her skirt. What a relief, thirty seconds to spare before she would have started earning strokes. Not that she minds strokes, quite the contrary, but the twenty five from this morning and the five welts from yesterday had her ass still feeling like a five alarm fire. Master knows that she gets off work at five and it is only a twenty-minute walk to get to Master’s home so usually she has time for a quick bit of shopping along the way. Today was a stop at the liquour store, but no Glen Morangie on the shelves, rats, have to find a store clerk. Oh, no. All three are involved with an "intoxicated person of the male persuasion" who does not seem to comprehend the simple fact that the particular brand of rum that he likes is no longer available here! Back in her era of freedom, she would have snapped at the man and summoned a clerk, but Master does not permit her to use pejorative language to a man, so she waits patiently for nine minutes while the three clerks escort their rather vocal customer out of the store. As it turns out, there was half a case of the good stuff in the stockroom that should have been on the shelves that morning. In times past, she would have given the entire staff a stern chewing out, but Master has broken her of that habit, as of so many others. So, collecting her Master's favourite tipple, she dashes out of the door and sprints the three blocks to home. It would be nice, in circumstances like this, if Master would permit her to wear a jogging bra. Her 34Ds bounce a bit (a lot) in the half-cup halter he permits her to wear under her dress during the day. This rubs her nipples against the somewhat abrasive lining of her dress. It is not as if they weren't fully erect to begin with; the sleeves in her nipples keep them that way all the time, the rings she wears in the evenings are purely for decoration. (well, mostly although He is fond of leashes and so,of course, is she).
Now that she has dodged the bullet, so to speak, she can pull the key from the door, close and lock it, and drop her skirt. She moves quickly into the dressing room, time is still pressing. She has lfifteen minutes to prepare for Master before she again starts earning strokes. First order of business, securing her wrist and ankle chains. Today's set has a sixteen-inch length running through the ring at each end of the thirty-six inch vertical. Using her standard little heart shaped padlocks, she secures her wrists (right one first) followed by her ankles. She doesn't close the padlocks on her ankles yet as they have still another function to serve. Next, remove her dress and hang it up. Conveniently, all of her clothing is designed to be put on and taken off while she is fully chained. Now her halter, no time to rub her sore nipples. The fabric portion of her thong unclips from the three slim chains easily enough but she still has to unthread her slave chain from the small slit in the crotch of the thong. This means pulling the chain through her belly bangle and letting it drop so that the full weight of chain and key will tug on her clit ring. As usual, she has an immediate, crashing orgasm but no time to enjoy it. She wishes she could ease the chain down but Master would be certain to find out, he always does, and that would be more strokes. Now she can slide the fabric of her thong down the slave chain, ease the ring and key through the slit and finally put away her underwear, halter in drawer, thong in laundry chute; it's much too wet to wear again without washing. Lucky Master has permitted her to make several dozen thongs so she can wash them once a week and still have an ample supply. Last of the undressing is removing the ankle boots with the three inch heels. Her ankle cuffs are loose enough to be slid up her shin to clear the top of the boot when she secures her ankles. Taking off her right boot, she replaces it with a narrow, strappy sandal that ties around her ankle. Same with the left foot and then she unwraps the keeper chain to where it attaches to the outside of her right ankle cuff. She passes the chain under the sole of her shoe in front of the five-inch heel and pulls it up snugly to reach the padlock, fits the chain onto the hasp and clicks the padlock closed. Same with the left foot and then it's time for her jewellery.
The first thing to be done is securing the chains from her thong. The two front ones hang from rings in her waist chain just above the points of her pelvis so it is a simple matter to swing them over (right one first) and clip them onto the belly bangle that hangs from her navel ring. Now for the chain hanging down the crack of her ass. It doesn't quite reach the bottom of her ass because the thong, naturally, has to be pulled tight. So, she reaches around with her left hand to pull the chain out from between her cheeks and clip a long, one-inch bell to the end. The bell hangs mostly free of her ass cheeks so it will ring nicely, is heavy enough to pull the chain snugly into her cleavage, and enough hangs between her cheeks to allow her ass to grip it and not let it swing freely when Master orders her to her back.
Now she kneels, knees well spread, bends forward until her head touches the wall to the right of the ring from which hangs the key to the padlock hanging at the back of her neck. It is somewhat uncomfortable having this padlock bouncing against her steel collar when she runs, not to mention the constant tugging on her aerobes, but such a welcome reminder of her status. Fitting the key into the lock with her left hand, she opens the lock with her right and allows the chain running to her left earlobe to fall forward. Releasing the key, she brings the padlock, with the right side chain still attached, forward, being careful not to tangle it with the bangle in her ear and stretches the chain forward so she can fit the hasp of the padlock through the sleeve in her septum. Bringing the chain forward from her left ear, she fits it onto the hasp, clicks the lock closed, straightens her back and admires in the mirror the sight of the three quarter inch heart shaped padlock snug against her nose. The small bell hanging from the point just clears her upper lip. The quarter inch chains running across the curve of her cheeks stand out like guideposts, directing the eye. No time to waste admiring the view, she still has to choose and install her nipple "accessories".
Master allows her to choose for herself what jewellery to add to her nipples. Each choice has ramifications. Has she earned strokes? Perhaps the three-inch steel rings with half-inch bells and a stainless steel chain pulling her nipples slightly together. This combination is usually enough to mitigate the severity of the strokes when they are applied the following morning after breakfast. Rings and chain that heavy are uncomfortable to wear until eight a.m. so perhaps, the slender chain running through her nipple sleeves if she has enough time to put on her spiral armlets and connect the chain at each end. Perhaps her Master will permit her the pleasure of bellydancing for him tonight. Hmm, if slavegirl wears a slave disc hanging from her nipple chain, Master will probably use her long and hard tonight; the problem is deciding which one! PRETTY ASS on a two-inch disc is always a favourite, can't go too far wrong wearing her name between her breasts. Master, Please Use me would be a scary choice with her ass already on fire, she really doesn't want another five strokes. Besides, Master used her three times the night before last, bringing her to orgasm eleven times in the four hours. Of course, he kept pretty ass hanging on the edge for what felt like hours between orgasms, the evil beast. All things considered, Master, Please Use me might make Him think
slavegirl is a greedy little wench, which, of course, is perfectly true, but no reason to draw it to His attention. Maybe her one-inch disc with the words "HOT SLUT" and a half-inch bell hanging from the bottom. Perfect, just the right touch of eager to please without actually begging for use. Just have to thread the chain through her left nipple, attach to the spiral armlet, and fit that around slavegirl's left arm. A quick shimmy, love the feeling of the chain sliding through slavegirl's nipples, barely two minutes left, just time to run a hand towel across her face to mop up the sweat from the run, no time to do her body, good thing her waist length hair is in a braid or she would have to spend half an hour brushing it out, with consequences too painful to think about. Now, left hand to the tube of lipstick hanging between her breasts, a quick coat for her lips, close up the tube and kneel in front of the gate into the house. The beep of the timer on the gate goes off and slavegirl crawls through the eighteen-inch high portal to her Master's domain. A fast peek at the timer, through with fifteen whole seconds to spare. So far, no strokes. Of course, there is still the entire evening to go through with so many opportunities to forget the detail of one of her many rituals. Tonight, she hopes not to be forgetful although she frequently does it on purpose; Master has such a deliciously firm hand.
Crawling the ten feet to the centre of her Master's living room, she comes to a halt facing the door, rises up to a squatting position, steps through the chain between her wrists, returns to a kneeling position taking special care to spread her knees the full two feet which is the minimum her Master permits and straightens her back, thrusting out her breasts. In the process, her collar tugs on the chain attached to her navel ring, pulling it tight against the soft skin of her abdomen and the hollow of her breasts. This causes a slight chime from the metal cover of the lipstick tube, where it hangs on its chain from the top of her collar. She places her wrists beside her ass, lowers her head to gaze at the floor between her knees and waits, trembling with eagerness, for the joy of her life to arrive!
End chapter one
More to come as soon as I can find the time to get it written. Hope you enjoyed this. Comments would be most welcome.
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