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Freshman Year Girlfriend
==> Chapter 5:
When Jackie returned to the house at nearly five in the morning she took a moment to wake me up and talk to me before going into her bedroom for the night. She turned on the light in the living room, and I awoke as she sat on the sofa, and she waited patiently as I stirred and became aware of her presence.
Her first words to me as I shook off the grogginess and locked my eyes onto her feet were: "I wanted to give you one last chance to get out of the slavery you promised to me tonight. I want you to know that I'm really happy about owning you and that you've agreed to all the rules, but I realized as I was driving my mom to the airport that you might have said 'Yes' to this in the heat of the moment, and I thought you ought to have a chance to walk away before I fall totally in love with you and become obsessed with owning and dominating you..." she trailed off as I knelt in the cage, listening raptly.
She stopped speaking for a moment and kicked her boots off with her toes. She hadn't put socks on before dressing to drive to the airport, so her feet were bare. I could smell them immediately as they had baked inside those hot old leather and rubber clunkers. She scooted down on the couch and pressed her right sole against the bars nearest my face. "I love this foot fetish stuff," she giggled. "If you really want to be my slave and follow all the rules, then lick the bottom of my foot through the bars."
I licked feverishly the exposed damp pinkness of her fragrant foot as she sat in silence and enjoyed the feeling. "I never liked being touched, Jamie," she cooed, "but I loooooove this. Keep licking. I think I'm going to have to lose my virginity, by the way. To you. But you'll be tied up nice and tight because I'll be nervous. I've never even put my whole finger in my pussy before, and your penis looks a lot bigger. I think I still have my hymen."
I kept on licking as my cock grew hard and tall against its restraining cup. "May I speak, Princess?" I asked while still licking her foot.
"Yes..." she whispered.
"I am hard, Princess," I advised.
"Good... you don't need to tell me you're hard when you're worshipping me... only when you're not with me... you need to STAY hard when you worship me..." she whispered back.
Twenty minutes of silence passed as I eagerly worshipped both her feet through the cage's bars. Both of her soles were cleansed by my happy tongue. I grew incredibly horny, but there was no release for me. Jackie, however, had run one hand down the front of her skirt and was slowly rubbing her clit as I worked.
Eventually, she came. Quietly. She stood up after a moment of deep breathing and stripped herself bare. As I stared at her feet, she covered the top of the cage with her skirt and sweater, laying them flat. She then squatted in front of the cage door and unlocked it. "Face," she commanded, and I presented my face while on all fours. "Open your mouth wide," was next. I did.
Jackie stuffed her wet panties into my mouth. I tasted the tang of her fresh cum as she thumbed my jaw shut. "Suck on them all night. Sleep well, slave... in the morning we begin our new life together..."
She stood up, giggling again, and snapped off the light. Darkness descended as I heard her open the lock to her bedroom and then lock it from the inside. For hours, as I intermittently slept in the confining and uncomfortable cage, finally finding that the fetal position was best for sleep, I heard the springs of her bed squeaking as she masturbated and masturbated. It was the last sound I heard before falling asleep and the first sound I heard when I awoke. I looked at the clock on the cable box and saw that it was nearly noon on Sunday. Light filtered past the sides of the drapes and dimly revealed the quiet room.
My body ached from the curled night on the cage's barely-padded mesh floor, and I really needed to use the bathroom both ways. But she was still jerking off fast and hard, so I resigned myself to waiting while knowing that I could use the pan under the cage if need be.
An hour later, she stopped the squeaking and I heard her emerge from her bedroom, carefully locking the door from the outside with the transferred combination padlock, before approaching the cage. She'd put on her dirty cotton slippers, the thick booties with the rubber dots on the soles, and these made a soft padding sound as she got nearer. She stopped before the cage door and squatted down, naked, her lightly-furred crotch spread before my face and emitting that worked-over pussy odor that is so tangy and erotic. Her dried juices were crusted all around her lips and matted her light, straight pubic hair.
"Okay... first day... first thing, slave, is you need to clean my pussy."
She unlocked the cage door, pulled out her now-soaked panties from my mouth, and had me stick my head out. She sat on a pillow with her legs spread wide and pressed her clotted crotch against my face. "Suck and lick 'til I say stop, Jamie," she ordered. I licked and sucked up her strong-tasting juices and felt the crustiness dissolve on my lips and tongue as I swallowed the deliciousness. She suddenly farted, loud, blasting my face with her gas. "Oooooh... smell that, slave," she giggled as she farted again. I breathed deeply of her gasses and kept licking rapidly, sucking, swallowing.
She stood up and had me crawl out and lie on the floor, face-up. "Today," she began as she stepped up onto my chest and steadied herself with one hand on the edge of the coffee table, "today, you're going to start by going down to the diner and bringing back breakfast. And the Sunday Boston Globe. Get dressed in the jeans and shirt you were wearing, but no underwear and no socks. Your wallet is in top of the pile, but I get it back when you return... you only hold your wallet when I say so. Go now, and bring back one of those special omelettes they do, with home fries, and also a coffee, a large, for me. Get yourself whatever you want. Hurry."
She got out of my way to watch me dress. I had to go to the bathroom, and I asked for permission to speak. She gave it, but she told me to wait until I got back from the diner before I could go. She said she wanted to think about my suffering while I waited for the food.
The diner, as always, was crowded at Sunday noon. It took nearly a half hour to have the order in hand and by that time I was squeezing my buttocks to hold myself together with the great need to go to the toilet. The chastity belt pressing on my penis reduced the need to pee a bit, but I felt the ache in my bladder. I rushed back to the apartment with her breakfast and two coffees as well as the pancakes and grits I'd bought for myself.
At the door, Princess held out her hand and said "Wallet." I handed it over. "Strip," she flatly ordered next, and added "remember, strip as soon as you get through this door unless there's someone here other than me or the rare time my mother's here, right slave?"
"Yes, Princess," I replied. She took the diner bag from me as I stepped out of my pants and folded them over the back of a kitchen chair. When I was naked except for the collar, which some folks in the diner had sort of glanced at, and the belt, Princess seated herself at the table and cleared a spot for herself to eat. I dropped to my hands and knees as required whenever she was seated (or lying down) and waited, staring at her feet. She had put on her gray shorts and a white tee shirt. I stared at the grimy cotton slippers as she crossed her ankles under the table and opened up the bag of food.
"Oh, yeah, you need the bathroom, right slave?" she asked liltingly.
"Oh, yes, Princess Jackie," I moaned back, squirming.
"Okay, go use it, and remember the rules about cleaning up..."
I practically busted my knees getting down the hall to the dingy bathroom. I'd cleaned it just two days before, but she'd already sloppied it up. Her used towel was on the floor, there were two balled-up tissues next to the base of the sink, and she hadn't flushed the toilet after using it this morning. Her piss yellowed the water with its rich scent and her feces sat in a pyramid at the bottom of the bowl. I sat down and found that peeing and shitting through the holes in the chastity belt required control and precision. I managed to get the job done, then delicately wiped clean with five or six tries of tissue paper. I flushed both of our loads, then used the toilet brush to wash the bowl. I then washed my hands, wiped down the sink rapidly, erasing her toothpaste blobs, and used the Lysol to sterilize both of my foulness. I remembered that I was just a filthy, bacteria-covered piece of male shit, and I smiled as I crawled back to Princess's feet.
On the floor next to her chair was the styrofoam container holding my pancakes and grits. Princess had shucked off her slippers and had both of her pretty bare feet planted in the middle of the food. She'd dumped the little container of syrup all over the tops of her insteps and toes, and a mush of grits and cakes squished up between her pink digits. "Look at me," she sweetly said, and I saw that her bright blue eyes twinkled devilishly as she said "I want you to eat your meals off my feet a lot, I think, Jamie... I guess I really, really like this foot-slave stuff. It makes me feel powerful. Go ahead and eat."
As she slowly consumed her meal, I got my face down there and sucked up my breakfast. Every few minutes, she'd absently and slowly mash the pancake-grit-syrup mixture with her feet and then lift a sole for me to clean up or point her toes so that I could suck the mush from between them. Eventually the styrofoam was empty and spotless. She'd finished her meal as well.
"I want you to clean the apartment today while I read the paper, slave. Bathroom, hall, kitchen, living room. After that I don't know what's next, but I'll probably think of something. Come be my footrest when you think you're finished, or, if I'm in my room, knock on the door and kneel away from it. Remember, you're not allowed to look inside my room. Okay?"
"Yes, Princess."
"Oh, and if the apartment isn't spotless, I think I'll have to punish you. Make sure all the trash is bagged and on the back deck. Start now."
She took the paper to her room and locked herself inside.
I started with the bathroom. I scrubbed every inch until it sparkled. The hall meant I had to find a vacuum cleaner, and I did, in the linen closet. I put all the folded towels and sheets in there and neatened it as well. I swept cobwebs from the tops of the walls in every room, wiped and dusted, checked and re-checked my work, and made the piles of crap in the kitchen into neater piles on shelves and in the empty little pantry cabinets. I even set the oven to clean itself and wiped out the inside of the refrigerator. Feeling finished, I knocked on her bedroom door and knelt down with my back to it.
"Just stay there, you loser," she snapped at me through the door.
I knelt as I watched the light fade away outside. I watched time click away on the kitchen clock. My heels were digging into my buttocks and the welts there, which had been painless all day, started to feel itchy and irritated. I felt stickiness and realized that some of the cuts had re-opened and I shifted my weight. Two hours had passed in silence and it was now almost sundown.
Suddenly I heard steps and the door being unlocked. She jerked it open and threw my wallet at me, bouncing it off my back. "Dress yourself!" she almost shouted, "Go to the Home Depot and get a piece of rubber hose, one-inch in diameter and five feet long. Also get a plastic bucket with a sealable lid and a roll of duct tape. Then go to Walgreen's and get five of the really wide Ace bandages, the longest they have. I have an idea. Hurry the fuck up. I don't like not having privacy, and I'm going to fix it right now. Hurry UP!" she shouted, and kicked me in the back very hard with her socked foot. The kick made a thud and stung as it smacked against one of the healing welts there. It throbbed as I scrambled to my feet.
A half an hour later, I was kneeling away from her bedroom door again with two bags of the items requested. Inside I heard the familiar squeaking of her bedsprings. This girl, I thought to myself, masturbates a LOT.
I didn't know whether to knock so I didn't, thinking I'd wait for her to stop rather than disturb her. A half hour later, she still hadn't, and I debated internally only to be interrupted by angry footsteps and a jerking open of the door behind me. She saw me there and shrieked "How long have you been here, you stupid fucking FREAK?"
"A half hour, Princess!" I replied, alarmed.
"I told you I wanted privacy and that's why I sent you and then you come back and stay there for thirty minutes ANYWAY?" she yelled. "You're a stupid fucking piece of sick SHIT!" she added loudly. "Go to the living room and get on the coffee table with your ass in the air facing the TV! Now!"
I practically ran.
She stormed into the room two minutes later and dropped an armload of stuff to the floor beside me where I couldn't see. She jerked my ankles together and cuffed them tightly with the heavy shackles. She moved to my wrists and slammed them into tight handcuffs. She roughly grabbed my hair, jerked my head up, and wrapped a heavy linen scarf around my eyes, tying tightly in back to blindfold me. She commanded "Open!" as she slapped my lips with the back of her hand, and filled my mouth with the inflatable gag. She angrily pumped it to maximum, stretching my jaws and bulging my cheeks painfully.
"I am going to SO fucking WHIP you!" she screamed. I heard her lift the new four-foot flogger from the floor. "You are to ALWAYS knock on my door after I send you away, understand?"
"Yes, Princess," I mumbled behind the huge gag.
"I'm going to whip the shit out of you, you fucking pig, and you'll maybe learn to respect me! And then," she paused to lower her tone to a dangerous level, "then, I'm going to use that stuff I sent you for to show you how I'm going to have my privacy when you're here and I want it."
She backed behind me as I wondered how Ace bandages, duct tape, a hose and a bucket were going to give her privacy, but my thoughts were quickly shattered as the whip fell upon my streaked and raw thighs with a vicious sound and a terrific blow.
"One hundred!" she announced. "Take it!"
Jackie began to count off, down from a hundred, as she put all the force and fierceness of her anger behind a series of vicious whip-lashes that fell in rapid succession across my blistered ass and thighs as I bucked and squirmed. Blood began to flow by the time she got down to twenty, and she threw the whip to the floor. "You're fucking blood is spattering all over the fucking floor!" she screamed.
She yanked off the blindfold and deflated the mouth gag before yanking it out of my mouth.
"Go get dressed and go back to Home Depot and get a plastic dropcloth like they use for painting a room. HURRY!!!"
I rushed to get to my clothes and winced as I pulled my jeans over my newly-lashed ass. She had me turn away from her so that she could check to make sure blood wasn't obviously seeping through the denim. Satisfied, she barked "Get the fuck back here immediately!" She grabbed my wallet off the table and threw it at me. I caught it.
"And when you get back, the hundred starts all over! HURRY!!!" she literally screamed. Her face was red with rage and her forehead streamed with sweat. Under her arms her cotton tee shirt showed the darkness of sweatstains as well and I saw the dark patches of the fine underarm hair there that she refused to shave.
I rushed to the store, my ass burning against the car seat, and I had to lift my butt a bit to be able to drive. I was back withing twenty-five minutes.
I rushed up the stairs, stripped, and found her waiting for me in the living room with whip in hand. She'd put on a yellow rain slicker that covered her body from head to ankles. She'd drawn the belt tightly closed around her waist and tied it into a bow.
"I don't want your blood getting on me while I whip you," she explained. She pointed to the wall next to the TV. There I saw two of the iron screw-in loops I'd bought screwed into the wall a foot below the ceiling. A kitchen chair stood there. She'd obviously used the chair to get up high enough to screw in the thick hooks. She'd tacked a blanket below the hooks so that the wall was covered. She told me to spread the drop-cloth on the floor below the blanket. As I did so, the excitement of the impending punishment mixed in my swirling, fevered mind with the fear of the whipping I was about to get from this girl that she intended to be so fierce that the floor and wall needed to be shielded from my spattering blood.
"I have a towel and a box of smelling salts on the table here, you ridiculous pig," she told me as I spread out the drop cloth. "Put out your hands."
I stood before her with my eyes on her slippers, which poked out from under the oilcloth slicker she wore. She put a wrist shackle on each of my offered arms. The mouth gag went back in. No blindfold.
"Get up on the chair and hook your wrists to the loops," she ordered. As I stood on the chair and placed my second wrist into the hook, she told me to get ready for the chair to be pulled out.
As she twisted the chair away I fell several inches and jerked to a halt with my tiptoes three inches above the floor. She knelt down between my legs and carefully screwed another of the iron loops at the level of my left ankle, but a foot away wide. Then another a foot wide of my right dangling ankle. Cuffs went on, and then she spread my legs and hooked them to the new wall anchors. I now hung from the wall by my wrists against the blanket.
"And now, you privacy-violating dumb piece of shit," she intoned dangerously, "a hundred lashes. Ten at a time, so that I can rest between each set. I'm going to make you bleed, and I'm going to love this. And you should know that I'm angry, and that I used to love to torture and kill bugs and frogs when I was a little girl. When I was five or six I used to catch frogs or toads and put them in jars and use a magnifying glass to burn them until they died. I used to babysit for a little boy when I was older, and I used to spank him until he cried every single time, and then lie to his mother when she got back about things he'd done that made me have to punish him. And I used to make him stand in the corner for the whole time she was gone with his pants down. I just wanted you to know that I love hurting things, and that I'm really looking forward to punishing you a lot... a real, real, real LOT!"
With the last word of the sentence she flailed out with the whip with all of her strength and the nine thin, hard strands of the flogger slashed across the tops of my thighs with a wicked whallop. She stepped forward after counting "Ninety-nine," to run her fingers across the set of welts she'd raised. "But no blood yet."
She stepped back and grunted as she lashed out again, this time meeting the flogger with hurricane force to the dome of my asscheeks. Fire strafed across them and I bucked against the wall. "Blood!" she cried triumphantly, then, "Ninety-eight!" I could hear the lilt in her voice as the blows now rained down, ten seconds apart, each counted off with her happy cry, until she got to ninety. She dropped the whip onto the drop-sheet on the floor, and I saw the faint outline of its strands mark the plastic with thin curling lines of my blood. I felt a thin hot trickling down the backs of my thighs as well, and saw tiny red speckles like a galaxy that had spattered onto the yellow wall-blanket as the blood-coated flogger had lashed forward.
She was breathing heavily. "Ninety to go, and I'm taking a short break. Don't go anywhere, slave-boy!" she giggled as she practically skipped down the hall to her bedroom. The squeaking began almost a moment after she'd locked herself behind the door.
I hung, panting around the gag, my nose bubbling and with the beginnings of tears in my eyes, as my mind whirled. Endorphins were kicking in to counter-balance the onslaught of this pain, but my masochism was so deep that I thoroughly enjoyed hanging there, bleeding from the worst whipping imaginable, and all at the hands of an eighteen year old girl that I'd only met a few days before. My God, she was so lithe and thin and raw and beautiful. Oh, her feet, oh how I had loved groveling inside the cage to lick her precious sweat from their pink soles...
There were ninety lashes to go and yet I felt no fear at all. I felt only a fulfilling satisfaction that is the ultimate reward of the rare male masochist who has fallen in love with a female sadist.
In the room down the hall, this so-rare girl was busily giving herself an orgasm marked by the increasing speed and sound of the squaky bed. Only minutes passed before I heard an audible gasp and moan, and then she was back behind me with whip in hand.
And so the pattern repeated itself as ninety became eighty, then fifty, with longer breaks in between, and as the blanket became spattered with more red drying into brown and the light-gray dropcloth gathering bigger spots of blood droplets that began to join and merge into a thin layer of my blood. I felt multiple tiny rivulets of the hot liquid from my flayed ass to my thrashed thighs running all the way down to my dangling toes, where the tiny drops would hang for a minute before falling away to the protective plastic three inches below.
She began to wipe the whip with the towel after every two or three strokes.
When there were twenty lashes to go, I was hanging from my wrists, unaware of their pain, and in an ecstatic trance that only the truly masochistic can achieve under such torture. An hour had passed, and each lash of the whip made not a solid whack as it landed, but a wet splash. My toes were dripping every five seconds now. I looked down at them through hooded, dreamy eyes and guessed that she had whipped a half-pint of blood out of me. I smiled, then grinned, and anticpated the last twenty. Every neuron in my ears awaited the sound of Jackie's return.
But my new girlfriend played her own trick on me. When she returned, instead of taking up the whip that my striped and oozing flesh so craved, she sat on the sofa and turned on the television. She picked up the paper and began to flip pages. She didn't speak to me as I hung there at all. She was letting the pain set in, letting my body return to sensitivity, letting my head clear.
An hour went by. I knew it was an hour because I heard the beginning and ending of a Discover Channel documentary pass. She flipped channels and watched back-to-back Simpsons episodes as I became aware of the ache in my wrists and the purpleness of my hands. I felt the welts and cuts itching as they began to knit and the fire set in. Swelling raised the welts to ultra-sensitive hard ridges all across my ass and thighs.
After "Seinfeld" she finally turned off the TV and spoke to me in barely a whisper.
"The last twenty are going to be with this long wooden spoon, slave," she began, "now that you're all cleared up and sensitive and aching. I'm going to beat you right on top of those swollen welts, aiming for the worst ones, and every single hit is going to hurt. So. Much."
A mixture of dread and joy thrilled me as she sidled up behind me and showed me the end of the three-foot long wooden spoon. It was a decorative item made of heavy maple, meant to hang on a kitchen wall and perhaps wrapped with ribbon or fake fruit. The handle was thin but the spoon itself was six inches long and flat, barely a bowl cut into it, and three inches wide like a paddle.
"Twenty," she began as she stepped back, and then my world burst into flames. Tears rushed up and out of my eyes as I writhed against the thick steel anchors holding me to the wall. The friction of my knees against the blanket burned. I literally screamed but the gag muffled all but the faintest sound. Another harsh and explosive blow landed across the hottest parts of my ass. Blood broke anew and rewetted the dry rivulets upon my thighbacks. Eight more blows fell until I hung, in pain alone and free of any pleasure, sobbing into the gag, my nose and eyes gushing, and my mouth blubbering around the rubber filling it. The clear liquids mixed with the newly resurrected red flowing droplets.
She dropped the spoon to the table after wiping it and once again retreated to her room to masturbate fiercely.
When she took me down a half-hour later, I fell limply to my knees and sobbed silently, simply flushed with gratuity that the beating had ended. I could not have withstood much more, I realized, without passing out. The last twenty were sheer, unadulterated torture, and I felt weakness resulting from the physical application of her beating as well as the small but impressive amount of blood loss.
She simply stood there over my hitching body for a minute and giggled. She leaned down to remove the wrist shackles and then the ankle shackles. She had me kneel before her and tilt my face up so that she could remove the gag, but she placed her finger across my lips to indicate silence.
"Look at me," she cooed, and I opened my eyes to gaze into hers. She was flushed, and her skin covered with a sheen of sweat, but she was grinning in deep satisfaction. Her expression was loving and gentle. "Hug me, Jamie," she whispered, and spread her arms. I fell against her, still on my knees as she squatted, and my bare wet chest met the rubber of her raincoat. She lightly gripped my back and pulled against me, avoiding touching the welts on my lower half. Our necks intertwined as we gently rocked there on the blood-spattered drop cloth. I saw that the soles of her white slippers were stained red, and that the front of the yellow slicker was spotted everywhere with drying droplets. She squeezed me tighter while breathing hotly into my ear "I love you, I love you, I love you, I sooooo love you...."
Eventually, as both of our breathing returned to normal, she slowly unclasped me and had me kneel before her. She sat on the end of the coffee table and peeled the socks off her feet. The soles were red except for where the little rubber gripper pads patterned across them. She tossed them to the side and sat there reading the paper as I followed her next order:
"Lick your whip-blood off my soles, Jamie, my love."
And so I did. She finished the paper over the next two hours as I gently worshipped and cleansed her sacred feet of the stain my blood had left upon her soles and toes. It was pure heaven.
At eleven PM, she stood up, casually checked each of her feet with a quick lift and glance, and simply said "We have class tomorrow... time for bed. Get in your cage."
I crawled into the cage, gingerly, not letting the flayed flesh of my ass and upper thighs touch the padding or bars.
"We haven't eaten since lunchtime," she said, "are you hungry?"
"Yes, Princess," I replied, "and I have to use the bathroom.
"No, slave, you're going to have to get used to using the tray in your cage when you need to go, okay?"
"Yes, Princess," I replied resignedly.
"You're my love, but you are also an animal, slave, and I want your use of my toilet to be thought of as a privelege, not a right."
I nodded.
"So, like I said, are you hungry?" she changed the subject.
"Yes, Princess."
"Then I'm making some hot dogs. Want one or two?"
"Two, please, Princess," I answered.
"Two it is. Be back soon. Ketchup, mustard or both?"
"Both, Princess," I told her.
A few minutes later the microwave finished and she returned with a plate containing three hot dogs. One was on a bun. The other two were neatly lined with a stripe of ketchup and mustard, but no buns held them.
"Your dinner is going to be eaten from my asshole, Jamie," she said as she saw my curious face.
She giggled again and ate her hot dog in four bites. Then she stood up and shucked off the raincoat to reveal her glorious and alabaster naked body. She turned around and told me to look at her ass as she stood with spread legs and spread her cheeks with the split fingers of her left hand.
With her right hand, she slowly pushed one of the hot dogs into her anus and I watched as the ketchup and mustard was pushed into a blob coating her cleft while the weiner disappeared into her rectum. With a dainty final push, she popped the last half-inch inside herself and her sphincter closed over it to leave just the dab of red-yellow condiments coating it behind.
She stuck her finger through the bars and had me clean off the ketchup and mustard there, and then she sat on top of the cage. "Get up and suck it out and eat, Jamie," she giggled.
And so I had dinner with a specially added spice courtesy of my new girlfriend, who giggled throughout.
"Are you thirsty?" she asked as I finished swallowing the second dog.
"Yes, sure, Princess," I happily replied. This was great!
She returned with a 20-ounce bottle of water. She uncapped it and took a huge swig, and then another, having me watch the whole time.
When the bottle was half-empty, she smiled devilishly at me and held it between her legs. She produced a simple plastic kitchen funnel. She put the nozzle into the bottle and, of course, filled it back up with a jet of her deeply yellow urine. She set the bottle next to the door of the cage and put a plastic straw into it. She watched happily as I drained it.
"We're not quite done, Jamie," Princess said as she took away the bottle. "I told you that I had an idea about how I can have privacy when you're here. And I had you obtain a few things."
She fetched the bags I'd bought earlier with the Ace bandages, duct tape, hose, and the little bucket that had a snap-on cap that made it airtight.
She also went to get a butcher's knife and a pair of scissors from the kitchen. "Nice neat drawers now, slave!" she remarked about my earlier job cleaning up.
She picked up the five-foot long rubber hose. It was a flexible but thick black rubber hose with a one-inch bore. She used the knife to cut one end so that it now had two flaps. She unlocked the cage and had me stick my head out. She put this end of the hose over my nose and mouth so that every breath I drew was through the hose. Next, she wrapped an entire band of Ace bandage around and around my head until the hose was firmly affixed to my face and my mouth was sealed. After that, she used two more rolls of the bandage to cover my entire head from chin to crown with bandages. She left only my ears exposed above my neck. With duct tape, she now wrapped this entire assembly to form a padded skull mask that had the rubber nose-tube for breathing and the open holes for my ears. Next, she wrapped a whole band of Ace around both ears until a thick layer drowned out all sound, then used the duct tape again to seal this to the mask. Now, I was in the dark and deaf with only the hose to breath through. Finally, the final Ace bandage she wrapped below my jaw and around the top of my head so that my mouth was held firmly shut within this padded band, and more duct tape made it permanent. My heart beat rapidly as I relished the exotic thing she was creating. Ah, sweet bondage and sweet surrender of control.
When this part was finished, she'd created a tight removable head mask that she could use to make me silent, blind, and deaf. But she wasn't done.
She removed the mask so that I could see what she was doing. With the knife, she traced a hole in the top of the plastic bucket that was approximately the same diameter as the other end of the rubber hose. She fed the hose through the hole and used wrapped duct tape inside and out to seal the hose into the bucket top with an airtight connection. Finally, she cut another, tiny hole in the lid of the bucket and snapped it tightly onto the container. She put the mask back on my head and watched me take breaths. Every breath I took now came through the bucket and was strongly tinged with the sweet smell of fresh rubber. She tested the airtight quality by putting her finger over the smaller hole she'd made on the lid of the pail, and sure enough, it blocked my air supply.
She removed the mask and smiled at me. "Now, when I want privacy, I can seal off your sight, hearing and make you silent... but there's more. Watch."
She popped the lid off the pail completely and set it aside. She stood up and straddled the open top, then squatted a bit. As I watched, she shit into the pail and her soft light-brown turds splatted onto the clean plastic of the bucket. The strong stench rose up and filled the area as my heart pounded and we both smiled.
"Get the idea, my love?" she asked me.
"Yes, Princess, yes," I grinned back.
The cover went back over the bucket and she sealed her fresh turds inside with a few loud snaps. The mask went over my head. Every breath I now took passed directly through the pail and its contents... her rank, acrid, wonderful fecal waste. But the airtight bucket effectively sealed the stink inside so that she would not have to smell it... only me.
She had me back into the cage again with the mask on my head. The door closed with just enough of a gap for the rubber hose to squeeze through. She locked me inside to lie there in blind and deaf silence, breathing her shit stench, for the entire night. My cock swelled maximally as I revelled in this absolute degradation.
Before long, she left me there to sleep on my side as I avoided touching my wicked wounds to the mat or cage bars.
I awoke once. In the middle of the night, I pulled up a corner of the mat and pissed the cage tray underneath. This began the process of getting used to sleeping above my own waste within the cage.
In the morning, Princess woke me up so that I could shower and bathe. She herself simply put on clothes and the knit cap over her messy hair as I sanitized the shower stall and sink of my filth. I winced and groaned as my cuts and welts stung under the lukewarm shower spray. I soaped them gingerly and dabbed them dry after finishing. I met Jackie in the kitchen, where she was filling her canvas book-bag.
"When you get home, your routine will start with cleaning the cage and the bucket, then the rest of the house. Remember the rules. Got your cell phone?" she asked brightly. She removed my collar (but not the belt, of course) and watched me dress.
"I do, Princess."
"Then be good. MENTAL PICTURE, SLAVE!" she suddenly called out.
I knew what to do, and my mental picture was of the classroom I was headed to and the seat I was thinking of picking in order to avoid the sight of any of the girls in there. I described this to her immediately. She smiled as I gazed at her duck-booted feet.
"Jamie, let's walk to campus together," she softly said. "Holding hands."
I walked at her side and held her hand as she made an exception to the three-steps-behind-me rule. Along the way we bantered like any regular young couple. She told me she wanted to cook her specialty this evening, and for me to come home rather than go to the dining hall for dinner.
As we reached the part of the grounds where we'd have to part to go our separate ways to class buildings, she turned to me and said "Kiss me, Jamie."
We had our first real, deep soul kiss. Her tongue darted and swaddled my own as she put her passion behind it, and she held my face with her soft hands while grinding her body against mine. When we finally broke apart, she whispered to me "I'm not going to wear socks anymore, Jamie, most of the time... that way, my feet will get nice and sweaty for you all day... do you like that?"
"Oh God, yes, Princess."
"That doesn't mean you'll get to kiss them every day, you know... but you'll know that most of the time I've gone sockless inside my smelly old shoes all day..." she giggled.
"Oh, cool, Princess..."
"Oh, and another thing... in the summer or winter, like it is now, I still wear my duckboots. So you can start looking forward to hot, humid, sweaty, boiling summer heat that makes the pavement I walk on all day get sooooo, sooooo yucky hot and makes my poor widdle feet get all stinky and need a slavie-boy to cween them all UP."
She said this last in a super-cutesy Betty Boop voice that just melted me.
She grabbed my crotch and said "Hard?" while giggling.
I was, and I nodded yes.
"Well, get soft, slavie-boy... I'm leaving you... for now... just as soon as you get down and kiss my right toe."
I looked around and saw others nearby, on their own ways to their own classes, but I didn't care. I dropped to my knee and planted a peck on her boot tip as she offered it up.
"See you after class, Jamie! Love you!" she called as she hurried away, wool skirt swishing and her book-bag swinging from her hand.
"Love you too, Jackie!" I called back.
My first class was in a giant lecture hall with amphitheatre seating. I sat in the front row where I'd not be able to see any other students. I kept my eyes down as the room filled up and I took notes copiously to keep my mind off anything that might give me a forbidden erection. The fire in my ass assisted in keeping me soft, and I alternated sitting on the sides of my ass cheeks to avoid putting the fresh wounds flat to the wood of the chair. The seventy-five minutes passed ever-so-slowly, and then it was time to go back to meet Princess at her apartment before returning for my eleven-fifteen class and then lunch.
On the way to her house I felt that familiar tingling of my balls that signalled an oncoming erection, and then my cock began to twitch. Inexorably, as my itching wounds rubbed against my tight jeans, I grew harder and then had a full erection throbbing against the acrylic casing that held it tightly imprisoned.
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket right there on the sidewalk and dialed Princess. She answered on the second ring. "Yeah, slave?" she answered coyly.
"I'm...I'm hard, Princess."
"Why?"
"It just happened."
"Are you near any girls?"
"No... I'm alone on the sidewalk half-way to your house."
"Well, slave," she slowly answered, "I know that, because I'm fifty yards behind you watching you from behind a bush. Good boy. See you at home."
She hung up, and I let my erection rage while I whistled my way to her staircase.
I knelt on the deck and waited for her as required. It was a chilly day, and the breeze was starting to kick up. Clouds had rolled overhead and it looked like a November snow might be coming. I shivered as I waited, and soon she appeared. She smiled up at me, and then she ran up the stairs.
The door was unlocked in an instant and soon we were both stripping feverishly. She was making primal grunts and squeals as she threw aside her clothes. She pushed me to the floor on my back and sat on my face, hard. I groaned as my welted ass slapped hard against the vinyl of the kitchen surface. I bucked upward with my hips but she cried "Make me come, slave!" as she sat her wet pussy right onto my lips. She unlocked the chastity belt as I began to slurp at her clit and swallow her juices, and she ripped it off. She grasped my freed erection with both hands and began to roughly stroke me hard, showing her inexperience with penises, as she squezzed and stretched my sore skin. I kept on eating her out as she dropped her lips to the head of my cock and gave her first attempt at a blow job. She was just guessing at the procedure and it was painful and rough, but I loved it. She came as she sucked too hard on the tip of my cock.
Her cum flowed onto my face as she spurted and I greedily lapped it up. She was bucking and banging my face as she came two more times, loudly, with moans. Then she settled down and queened me, her full weight on my nose and mouth, cutting off my air as she gently twiddled my penis with her fingers. I began to see spots as I tried to draw a breath and couldn't. I bucked very hard, but I knew that I could never dare to eject her from my face, and I simply passed out and went limp.
The next thing I sensed was the harsh chemical smell of a smelling salt as she revived me. Her face was stitched with worry that melted into deep relief as I awoke. "Oh my God!" she cried. "I thought I killed you!"
She threw her arms around my neck and we lay on the floor like that for five minutes, gently rubbing nakedly against eachother, as she whispered into my ear, over and over, "I love you... I love you..."
I soared with joy as I answered her back... "I love you too, Princess... I'm your slave... you own me... do whatever you want to me... I'd die for you..."
She got up on her knees and smiled down at me. "Do you want to skip 11:15 classes and just hang out here and play?" she smiled devilishly.
My 11:15 was Calculus, which I really needed to stay on top of. But... this was just too exciting. I replied "Well, my 11:15 is a hard class, but it'd be fun to stay here and play," I said tentatively.
Her reaction stunned me. She instantly turned to stone and said in a flat, angry tone "No, what you're saying is that there are girls in your 11:15 that you don't want to miss seeing, right?" She glared down at my face.
I looked right at her and said, earnestly, "No!!! It's Calculus! It's really hard! If I miss it I fall behind!"
She slapped my face and stood up. "Why are you looking at me!?!" she yelled as she started to dress. "Eyes on my feet, you worthless lying piece of shit!"
Perplexed and flummoxed, I rolled to my side and stared at her feet as she dressed feverishly and angrily. She grabbed her book-bag and yanked the door open. She yelled down at me "Go to your fucking class, then, asshole, and then lunch. I'll see you back here after. And you can fuck off for the rest of the day!"
I tried to call out, but the door was slammed shut before I could say a word. I heard her stomp down the stairs as I threw on clothes and tried to catch up to her, but she was practically running away and was inside a building before I could. I had to go back for my backpack and then on to Calculus, which I couldn't even concentrate on because I was so upset about the totally unexpected reaction of my new love.
After class I dragged my worried self to the dining hall and half-heartedly tried to eat a sandwich at a table in the corner while I buried myself behind an open book. Unfortunately, my roommate Mark saw me and came over to the table. He sat down and saw immediately that I was bummed out.
"Whassup, dude?" he asked brightly, snapping his fingers under my downturned face.
"I don't feel like talking," I glumly answered, putting down the half-eaten roast-beef sub.
"Where you been, Jamie? With that new girl?"
"Yes, I have, Mark," I replied defensively.
"Well, you're getting deep really fast... already three whole days with her. Watch out, man."
"Yeah." I flatly replied.
"Well, whatever. You're wearing the same clothes you had last time. At least come get some clothes, dude," he remarked before pulling away while shaking his head.
I dialed Princess to let her know about the contact as the rules required, but she simply answered the phone, said "Whatever," and hung up.
I walked slowly toward her house. When I got to the top of the stairs I saw a sticky-note in her handwriting attached to a pane of glass in the old door. It read "Just sleep at your dorm tonight. I'll call you whenever. Rules, remember."
I hung my head in disappointment as I read this, but at least she'd referred to the rules. I walked slowly back to the dorm and let myself into the room.
Mark wasn't there. I quickly changed clothes while I had the room to myself. I put on baggy long underwear and a tee shirt before new jeans and a long shirt so that when it was time to sleep I'd have a covering over my welts and the chastity belt.
I studied half-heartedly while clutching my cell phone. It never rang. Eventually, I went to sleep.
Much later, a rowdy and drunken Mark stumbled into the room. He was happily surprised to find me there, and said so. I perked up a bit. He'd drunk quite a lot and was flushed red. He told me he was just there for a minute to grab a few things and then was heading back out to meet up with a girl he'd just met at Shooter's. But then he said something that really surprised me: "Hey, dude, you know your new girlfriend?"
I nodded yeah, go on.
"Well, I just passed her. She's out on a bench in the quad right there," and he pointed out the window of our room, "and she's sitting there staring up at the building."
I raised my eyebrows.
"Yeah, dude, for reals! She's just sitting there, and I just put two and two together! What's up with that?"
I shrugged. I had no idea, but this was interesting.
He gathered up his backpack and smiled as he dramatically dropped a few condoms into it. "I'm off! Good luck and good night!"
The door closed behind him and the darkness resumed. I crept over to the window, staying in shadow, and peered out. There she was, sitting on the bench as he'd said, but she wasn't staring upward. She was dialing her cell phone. Instantly, mine rang. I dashed over to the nightstand, saw that it was she who was calling, and breathlessly answered "Yes, Princess!"
"Why did your light just come on?" she asked, voice full of suspiscion.
"Um, my roomate just blew through, Princess... why? How'd you know?"
"I'll ask the questions, okay?" she replied haughtily. "I know because I came to check on you."
"Okayyyy," I replied.
"If you don't get some respect in your voice, I'm hanging up, Jamie," she said flatly.
"Yes, Princess," I replied meekly.
"Tell me that you really wanted to go to class today because you didn't want to miss the lecture and it had nothing to do with any girls there."
I repeated this with passion and earnestness.
"And you love me and you'll never, ever leave me or deceive me?"
"Never, ever, Princess," I replied.
"No, say it. Say 'I love you and I will never, ever leave you and I will never, ever deceive you."
I repeated this as well, but a tiny spark of doubt about this whole thing flared in the pit of my stomach. However, she completely doused the spark with her next sentence: "Fine, then come out here and get over my lap right in the middle of the quad and prove it by letting me spank you right here."
I grabbed my backpack and jacket and ran down to her as quickly as I could. My heart was in my throat as I realized that at this moment I was making a decision to publicly be known as her slave, or at least as a very strange and pussywhipped dude. She was sitting on the center bench of the quad. Four dorms faced it, each full of windows, many of which were lit. It wasn't that late, and a lot of students would still be awake. People would be crossing that quad on their way in and out of the dorms constantly for the next few hours. All four dorms had entrances letting out onto the open space of grass and sidewalks. I passed a group of four girls coming into the dorm as I exited. I kept my eyes averted as their loud chatter bounced off the walls behind me as I ran through the cold air to my Princess.
She was sitting up with her legs out before her and was pointing to the ground before her outstretched feet. The soles of her duckboots were lit by the fake gaslight on a pole right next to the bench. As I got close, she said "Kneel".
I knelt before her on the sidewalk. To our left, a big gaggle of kids had just walked onto the grass at the upper left corner of the quad. Behind me, I heard a loud guy's voice as some people exited my dorm and started across the space. To my right I could hear loud music from a dorm room. In every window it seemed I saw movement.
"Kiss my soles, Jamie," she ordered as she crossed her arms over her chest.
I got my face down to the ground and began to kiss her soles. Footsteps behind me grew louder as the guys from my dorm approached. Soon, their voices were right on top of us and it was impossible that they weren't seeing this. They went silent and passed five feet to the left as I groveled. Once they were another twenty feet away, they burst into laughter. The group to the left was now crossing diagonally to get a closer look. I heard a girl say "Hey, what's that guy doing?" as another said "Hey, look!"
I heard their steps cease and could sense their curious eyes as they stood perhaps fifty feet away to grin at the spectacle. Jackie didn't care, and I allowed myself to not care. I kissed her dirty rubber soles ever more fervently.
"Time for your spanking, now!" Jackie said loudly. I heard a few titters in response from the group to the left.
I got over her legs with my butt facing the group of watchers. As the jeans pulled tight across my welts and cuts, I felt the burn set in again.
"I'm going to spank you fifty times, slave," Jackie told me in a voice loud enough for the curious to hear. More titters and a guffaw.
She began to smack my sore ass, hard, and rapidly. She counted the strokes off as she set my rear end aflame. "Bad boy!' called out a male voice from the group.
As she finished, she spilled me off of her lap and sttod up. I rubbed my denim-covered ass as I caught a glance of those who'd observed; there were at least twenty kids standing there. They started to disperse as they saw that the spectacle was over.
Jackie had one more part to her show. Loudly she said "I brought your collar, Jamie!" and was rewarded with one more round of laughter from the exiting crowd.
"You go, girl," a lone voice called out, and then they were around the building and gone.
"Now, slave," Jackie told me in a lower voice, "you're in all the way. We're going back home. Go up to your room and grab your toiletries and as much clean clothes as you can carry, then get back to our home."
She walked off briskly as I rose to my feet and hurried inside. At least this necessary part of becoming a slave was now over, and I'd deal with the fallout some other day.
I ran off to be hers.
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