Chapter 1        -        THE BEGINNING OF CURIOSITY

It had been a hard week and all the sales team had earned a relaxed time. The convention had involved traveling, presenting and discussing reports of ending year and projects for the next period.

The sales team (over 20) decided that the farewell evening should be fun and I willingly agreed on this, taking little care to find out what the program could involve since I just wanted to relax by the beach before that. I just took note that we should meet by 7:00 PM at the lobby bar.

Trying to be punctual, at 6:30 I was under the shower wondering how I should dress for the evening. I decided not to be casual, but not too formal, either, wearing a backless blue dress; knee long and moderately heeled black shoes with a matching handbag. Only seven other women were part of the group and I did not want to call too much attention, but I could not look less attractive that the others. The choice happened to be not bad since only one of my colleagues wearing a miniskirt and the youngest of the team with a sexy top were catching more attention. But I did not feel like competing with them: as a married woman, I was not supposed to, in spite of some jealousy they inspired.

Even punctual, I was the last to arrive and all the uproar was related on how we were distributing ourselves in the available cars. Only on the club parking I could see it was called the Kinky Club, which I was told was a BDSM club with a dinner show and dancing.

I had heard something about this, but I had to ask what all this was about. Under a relaxed spirit and jokes, I was told that we were just supposed to watch the show not needing to participate in anything we did not want to, only being requested to show our respect for the preferences of people surrounding us. I was assured that nobody would make me feel discomfort as far as I behaved with due respect.

A couple of guys, obviously voyeurs, had organized such evening and had convinced those who had cared more than me about the program. However, I could not deny that I was feeling some voyeur curiosity myself as Tom, one of my colleagues, explained me the topic.

I was surprised at the view of men and woman wearing collars and being lead into the club by a leash. That was my first shocking view of people in a dominant/slave relationship showing off, some of them heterosexual, others homosexual.

As the evening proceeded, my curiosity was mixed with some erotic feeling, while I was unsure of what to do or say. But the climax arrived when the auction of slaves was announced. I could not believe this was happening; and I could not understand my arousal, either.

One of my colleagues, a nice black fellow, had been trying to start a conversation for long. He finally addressed me in the most unpredictable way during the auction, telling me that if I entered the auction he would buy me at any price. While trying to take it as a compliment, dary indeed, I felt somehow insulted and flattered at the same time. But the embarrassing thing was that it turned me on in a way I could not calm down by the rest of the night. I imagine how stupid I was looking, unable to answer anything and just smiling and trying to focus on the scene: a woman, her hands tied up behind her, was lead to the stage by a leash while the auctioneer praised her assets and an uproar of bids were heard. I did not how to react.

Fortunately, the night was over and I could find refuge in my room. But I could not hide from myself: that experience had lit something inside me and my interest in dominance and submission, bondage and related matters started to hammer my brain day and night.

I tried to speak with my husband only to find his opinion on the subject was scornful. Then, I went to the web in search of information. I started to visit places with information, stories and pictures. The more I visited them the more I needed, becoming an addict and unable to stop not just my interest in the lifestyle but the arousal I felt. And the most striking was that I could not but think of me as a slave, free from responsibilities on what could happen, without the need to face the embarrassment of asking anybody to tie me up. I needed to be controlled, commanded, forced to obey. Then, everything would happen beyond my will. Or perhaps according to my will, one I could not confess.

Not finding an understanding in my husband, I started visiting the ads sections of these web sites, more as a voyeur than really in search, until a voice deep inside me told me “why not”.

CHAPTER 2                WHEN THE PUPIL IS READY, THE TEACHER SHOWS

There were a lot of ads requesting submissives and slaves while describing the virtues and experience of those in search of them. Who could be so crazy as to accept being dominated by an unknown, who would have such a control over a helpless woman? Yet, I was unable to set the idea aside.

The most striking finding was the ads of women in search of masters. I was not surprised to find women that were not nice or proportionate in this search and I concluded they were trying their last chance showing that they still had something to offer. But I could not believe that really beautiful girls, even younger than me, could be interested in this sort of humiliating relationship while I was sure that any man would be more than willing to be their mates. It meant that I was not alone and I was not just a crazy deviant.

As this browsing of ads went on, I happened to find a site with interracial erotic pictures, some of them related to bondage. In a way, it recalled me the proposition of that black colleague and, for some reason, I started visiting the profiles of Afro-American masters looking for slaves with an increasing sensation of lust.

Some of the sites required registration to visit these profiles, leaving some introduction to my own profile there. It was not a major concern since I could use a nickname.

I happened to find the ad that would drive me to an unexpected end. A black dominant male, with pictures of a stunning man, was requesting “white wives eager to serve an ebony Master who would use you as he decides fit”. That bold head plus an impressive chest, strong neck and sensual lips, with eyes that seemed to fire through the screen was a magnet that drove me to visit his profile.

Why did he want to find married women? Why did he prefer white ones? The profile showed he had been a Master for long. It was a good asset, since nobody can control others if lacking experience and self control. Perhaps an experienced master could be safer since he would care that what he could do with and to me would not hurt me.

But how could I cope with his arrogance? Even when he emphasized on interests that were beyond what I could accept, his basic requirement of his slave’s acceptance of no limits, of his superiority as a man over women and as a black over whites, his statement that once a Caucasian woman tastes his superior and extra size manhood she will find any previous experience dull, were too difficult to tolerate.

Moreover, he mentioned that his slave would have to accept her slutty role: I might have needs, but I was a lady! And why did he say his slave would be “used”? It was too much to tolerate.

But I visited his profile again the next day, nervous and aroused. He seemed to be in good shape, indeed, and he was an engineer with a full-time job: at least he had education. He liked sports (something obvious, considering his muscles), but I was surprised to find he enjoyed classic music and museums for which he demanded that his slave had a brain, not just a good look.

How would that contrast of skins be? One of the pictures showed his cock, a gliding black one, really a big one.

I kept on visiting his profile, learning his likes for bondage and bondage apparels (cuffs, chains, etc). What was the risk of being tied up if he could do anything to me with his evident overwhelming strength? Moreover, the idea of being tied up attracted me too much.

But he also mentioned the use of whipping and other torment means like clamps. Why hurting me? However, the idea of being whipped absurdly turned me on. If it were not painful, it would be quite erotic. But I do no like pain and getting marks would be stupid for a married woman.

I confess I did not understand much of his interests, not even their meanings. But I could imagine what branding was and did not even consider it. I decided that this man was not for me and, most probably, for nobody unless insane.

But another unexpected event happened: I received a message from him, Master Panther, asking why had I visited his profile and had not left a message. He said he might be a tough Master, but he was not a monster. On the contrary, he was a rewarding one, experienced enough to make any slave’s life a heaven, an outgoing man in public and “a gentleman with a respectful lady like you are”, finishing his message with the picture of a red rose. Moreover, he added, “your profile is quite more than appealing and, even when I was looking for somebody within the lifestyle, I would consider training a newby with the potential you have”.

How had he noted I was visiting his profile? Only then I realized that there was a link showing those who had visited mine; he had obviously used this tool! I felt ashamed and exposed. He was inviting me to drop him a line, at least as a sign of my manners.

Well, he seemed to have class, indeed. After a couple of days, my shyness fighting with my temptation, I decided that answering his message would not harm me. I was still safe behind the screen and under a nickname. Moreover, he was in Chicago while I was in New York: which was the risk?

I decided to answer thanking him for taking the time to write. However, I told him that I did not believe I could match his requirements that, even when I respected his preferences, were beyond what I could find acceptable. I tried to be as polite as clear in showing, without mentioning it, that I was not a slut but an independent woman, self sufficient and aware of my erotic interests, bondage being something I was curious about. These interests, by no means, could be confused with acceptance of a humiliating treatment. I urged him to understand that women in the XXI Century are equal to men and that racial differences do not suppose one can be superior to another.

My answer had probably been too firm in rejecting his message, as I did not get any new one in the next two weeks. I realized I checked my mail daily with eagerness in hope to get something from him and I was frustrated when nothing showed. Until a new letter from him arrived, sending my hormones to a rush and triggering my embarrassment at realizing how madly I was waiting for this.

He appreciated my comments and assured me that, even when having considered me a potential trainee; he had had no intention of insulting me, not even of hurting my feelings. In fact, a slave may be in a humiliating situation according to some point of view. However, he felt a deep respect for those who accepted their orientation and had always cared a lot about his slaves. He compared them to a pet, which is at a level below us; however, we love them and would do anything to keep them safe, healthy and happy.

“My slaves are my property and I take good care of my belongings” he added.

He acknowledged I had an exciting personality and that he would love to learn more about me and to exchange ideas with me, something that would be profitable for both. But he left the chance on my decision, since he did not want to bother me.

I found it the usual strategy of a man trying to find out the best way to catch me, eventually taking me to bed. But I did not resist: I was still at in a safe situation.

I wrote back at once, thanking him for his acceptance of my ideas and asking him what did he suggest in order to start that exchange. I also gave him my e-mail address to quit that site.

This way, we started exchanging mails, the first of mine describing me more precisely at his request: how I look like, some job and family details, education, etc. He reversed the same way. He also requested pictures of me at my job, with my family or whatever I wanted to show, something I did with a feeling of pride because of his interest.

CHAPTER 3                        THE E-MAIL APPROACH

Later, in a more relaxed atmosphere, he asked me what I was looking for, something I was not fully aware of.

In fact, I felt the appeal of bondage and even of being dominated, but I could not say that openly. However, he managed to draw the truth asking and telling me about his activities, even showing me what he meant in pictures, after asking me if I would mind to receive such information. He told me that one picture is worth a thousand words; and you bet they were!

Those pictures started breaking my barriers as they kept a fire burning inside me. A fire coming from considering that those things I had seen in the net galleries were not fiction but a reality. Moreover, I started imagining myself in the situation of those girls. And my interest grew enough to thank him for his explanations. The bastard knew what he was doing!

His next step was asking me what I was feeling when reading about his activities and looking at those pictures, which showed black men with white women tied up at their mercy, sometimes flogging them or just touching them, sometimes in different sexual activities, quite explicit, by the way.

He said that this was to test if I was really willing to consider submission, eventually to him, and to help me understand my own feelings. It was up to me to tell him but it was important for me to look inside me for my honest reactions and to become aware of them.

I did so, even when not answering to him at once. But my arousal before those pictures was something I could not control; my body was answering in secret. My reluctance to state my feelings was undermined and I could not avoid confessing this at some point.

Curiously, I felt quite relaxed once I had told him about such reactions.

After that first confession on my side, I received a message with the picture of a naked blonde girl kneeling at the feet of a black male, her hands tied up behind her and submissively looking down. The message said: This might be you when you accept your deep feelings; when you do, I hope I will be the man.

I felt such nervousness that I had to take a shower to calm down. However, even when calming a bit, an increasing arousal kept my head spinning, while I was unable to avoid touching myself.

That night I tried to have good sex with my husband, only to find that my mind was lingering on those pictures while making love. And in spite of my feverish arousal, I was unable to orgasm. For some reason, I faked it.

I was aroused, frightened, frustrated, nervous, and unable to concentrate either on my family or on my work.

I wrote Master Panther telling him I was not well with all this, which he answered inviting me to chat, eventually to talk on the phone, something he would prefer. Actually, he said he wanted to hear my voice. However, if I did not want to give him my number, I could phone him. Then, he gave me his home and office numbers, even his mobile one.

The temptation was strong, but I preferred messenger. And we started to use that way to communicate online. I used to log in once everybody left office or, sometimes, at home while my husband was traveling and my children were not present.

He suggested using a web camera, something that improved the communication and made me feel in his company. I was happy to exchange pictures and irrelevant information during a couple of weeks and we become friends, beyond what I felt for him. This relax coincided with my period.

CHAPTER 4 -        MESSENGER IMPROVING COMMUNICATIONS

We also started to use voice messenger when I was alone, which let me find his baritone voice.

Then, he proposed to go back to our interest in BDSM and discuss them a bit more. He asked if my sexual life had overcome that frustration point, something that had not occurred, with just a couple of exceptions.

• Then, how do you manage your arousal? Do you masturbate? He asked openly.

I could not answer that question!

• There is nothing to be ashamed of, he added, I know how you feel and what you do.

I was quivering, now. I knew that he had experience in this and he was probably sensing my deepest reactions.

• Let’s see what you find unacceptable in me. You know my interests; what do you object?
• Nothing, as far as you find somebody accepting them. I answered.
• Do not avoid my questions! He said in a sharp, still soft manner. I mean what you will reject doing?

I was trapped and trying to manage the situation. But why should I say anything if I was not considering a relationship?

• Let’s see. He went ahead. Would you have sex out of your marriage?
• I have never cheated on my husband.
• Answer my question, please! He cornered me.
• Perhaps, if I find a man who attracts me, who makes me feel understood, protected and who assures discretion.
• Had you ever had sex with a black male?
• No.
• And how do you find this possibility?

I could not really answer such a proposition. It had turned me on and, at the same time, paralyzed me.

• OK, it sounds like YES and that you are repressing yourself. Don’t do so! Just be you! Nobody is going to listen and I am too far away from you. You may even say YES and never talk to me again.

I could not say a word. I was behaving like a harassed teen virgin.

• Well, once we have agreed that you would fuck a black man, I must say that BDSM is quite more that sex. You may be willing to go to bed with me, but I am not just a partner: I would be your Master and Owner. Can you see the difference?

What the hell is all this? I asked to myself, what are you doing, girl? This is utterly crazy!

But he did not stop:

• Slaves do not fuck, they get fucked, they just do anything for her Master’s pleasure. A slave’s joy comes from feeling that of her Master. And she ought to be trained on orgasm control and even denial, she must gain her right to cum and even then, she must beg for permission to orgasm. It is not granted otherwise and it might be denied, anyway. All this is for her own sake: only a Master knows her needs and when to satisfy them.

Silence of my side received a direct question: How do you find this reality?

• Probably outdated. We are equal to men and with the same rights. Why should I go into this?
• Because you need it. I can sense your needs. I bet you are so horny you can barely refrain from touching yourself. You know you need it and you want it.

I should be slapping his face if together. Or falling in his arms? I was angry with myself: he was right!

• You have lain on bed spread-eagled and imagining your hands and ankles tied up to the posts, helpless at my mercy, haven’t you? He went ahead. You have also posed in front of a mirror in the position of some pictures you have found in the web. And then, you have masturbated.

I was shocked to say, the least.

• Let’s see how you find this picture.

And he proceeded to send me one I hurried up to accept. A strong black man was leading a naked white woman by a leash attached to her collar, her hands tied behind her back. They seemed to be at bar since several people, mainly men, were sitting at tables watching the scene. There was a St Andrew’s cross at one side.

• Now, tell me what you felt at looking at it. Imagine I want to take you there. Tell me the true, it is useless to hide since I already know your answer, but it is important you become conscious of your feelings: you cannot hide from yourself, girl.
• What is it? I answered.
• A BDSM club where this Master was giving a lecture on bondage and erotic torment. He used her as model. At the end of the lecture, the model was auctioned for the night and I happened to buy her. She was incredibly horny after that show off.

His explanation was stunning. I was shocked and, I confess I was getting too aroused.

• Now, tell me how would you feel there. He ended.

I explained the best that I could that I would not like this. My voice was weak and he was obviously reading my lips and my nervousness.

• Are you alone? He asked.
• Yes.
• Take your dress off. He ordered.
• NO!
• Come on, I give the orders, you obey. And do it in front of the camera, I want to see you doing so.
• I will not do it. I said, wishing he could dominate me.
• OK, he added, if you are not in the mood, I do not want to bother you. Good night, honey.
• Wait, please…and I started considering his order. After a while, I was unzipping my dress and letting the straps fall from my shoulders. I could not believe what I was doing.
• Can you see the effect? He added, pointing his camera to his penis, huge, erected and gliding in its blackness.
• Now, kneel before the camera and take your bra off, slave.

He had called me slave! How was this possible? And I was kneeling and obeying him. My head was spinning while I was utterly unable to react in any way but with that obedience. I felt ashamed, humiliated and uncontrollably aroused, which increased my embarrassment and humiliation. Of course, I did as commanded.

• Your panty follows, slave. Do it sensually, leaning forward to show me your swinging breasts.

I did so and reassumed my kneeling position, unable to look at the camera again.

• How do you feel?
• You know I am embarrassed, yet, aroused.
• That is not the way to answer me, slave.

Being addressed that way now sounded familiar, normal…But I did not understand what he meant. I looked back to the camera and he noted I was puzzled.

• From now onwards, you end every sentence calling me Master. I am your Master and Owner. Get it?
• Yes, Master. I blushed and looked down to the floor.
• Now, call me. And he gave me his number. Alternatively, I will call you. Give me your cell phone number. You cannot fear harassment, you are already my property. Still, you will have an opportunity to quit, I promise. Anyway, if you want to quit now, you are free. Good-bye.
• Wait……Master, please. And I gave him my mobile phone number.

One minute after, he called me and we started talking, still with me before the camera. He told me that he would visit NYC in two weeks. That was the time for me to decide if becoming his slave in real life. If I did not want going ahead, this was fine, but he did not want to waste his time online.

Just in case I decided to submit to him, I had to make a statement before a camera, naked and telling him what I wanted and why I wanted this, acknowledging he would become my Master, Owner and Lord. This meant I would have to do anything he wanted, whatever, whenever and wherever it was, including serving him sexually with express mention of oral and anal sex. This servitude would be transferred to anybody he wished. As a property, I could be lent, rented or sold as he decided. I also had to accept being whipped or beaten in any way he wishes, either for punishment, discipline or just for his amusement. I would also be kept in any form of restrains for whatever the time he found appropriate. However, he promised that in no way my enslavement would affect my family life, my job or my social life as far as I kept absolutely obedient, since this video would be made public if not. I had to mention that such a video had been made and handled to him as a proof of my commitment with his ownership.

In two weeks, he would let me know where we could meet. He would spend a few days in New York, where he travels frequently, when we could discuss pending points over some coffee or at dinner, at my best choice. If I decided to submit to him, I would give him the video with a complete list of contacts: family, job, children’s school, friends, clubs, etc. I should use a crude language in it.

This would make a slave of me until I asked to give up, but not earlier than 6 months. Then, if I requested so, he would give me that material back and would never show again. I could have his promise.

Actually, if he wanted to blackmail me now, he could do so since he had saved the images of the video chat, where I appeared undressing me for him and obeying his commands. Of course, if I wanted, he would destroy that record.

In proof of what he had in his hands, he later sent me some views he had saved of that video chat, where I was exposed in naked submission.

At that point, I was so nervous, frightened and, yet, as aroused as never in my life.

CHAPTER 5 -        THE SUBMISSION VIDEO

A week passed without receiving any news from Master Panther. He did not answer my mails, which just say hello. And I did not dare to make that video, although the idea excited me and triggered erotic thoughts. I confess having masturbated thinking of this.

But the date of his arrival approached and I needed to make a decision. Finally, I got his e-mail at work, saying he would arrive the next day. I burst into a hysterical crying: I had not made the video and did not want to let the opportunity go.

I decided to return home early and I went directly to the living, setting my camera on the coffee table. Then, I took off my clothes and knelt before the camera, after switching it on.

I started begging Master Panther to accept me as his sex slave, making a commitment to serve his sexual needs the way he found fit, for which I offered “my pussy, ass and mouth”. I stated that I needed to feel his strength, then I begged him to discipline me to his wish. I also acknowledged that my need was to see his enjoyment, for which I wanted to show I could endure pain, bondage and humiliation. I offered myself as his property to do as he wanted, either using me for his pleasure or giving me to please others in any way, even making a prostitute of me. I confessed I had discovered my need for tasting the cream of a black prick.

Then, I wrote a list of my contacts and prepared a box with this material for him.

I realized I was crazy, but still free to step back. Nevertheless, my arousal told me I would not.

Finally, I worked out an explanation for the depilation of my pubic hair, another of his requests. I decided to tell my husband I just wanted to give him a surprise he would like. At due time, it resulted to be enough; actually, as usual, he did not care too much.

CHAPTER 6 -        THE MEETING

I was at office when my phone rang. It is not that I was not waiting his call, but the idea that the moment had finally arrived startled me. I had told my husband that I would attend a meeting and diner with foreign visitors in Washington and I would have to sleep there. Then, I was free to devote time to Master Panther, although I was not sure of his plans.

After ordinary greetings, he told me to meet him at the Hotel cafeteria after office. He added that his hotel was just by Times Square, a very convenient location for what he wanted to do. His statement was puzzling, but I knew I should not make further comments considering I was not alone.

Anxiously, when the time to leave approached, I went to the ladies’ room to assess my makeup. My attire was probably too professional, but I had taken care of shortening just a bit my skirt and wearing a light blouse under my coat in order to make it a bit sexier. Moreover, my underwear was decidedly provocative, while I had chosen heeled sandals that could be less boring than shoes I usually wore. I was satisfied with the image the mirror gave back, which had been anticipated by some male looks earlier.

I found it quite strange. In a way, I was trying to impress him, decided to seduce him. At the same time, I would rather be wearing armor!

However confident I felt about my look, my legs could barely keep me walking as I left office. Not to mention when I entered the hotel. Neither when I sow him at a discretely located table.

I had though he would not be there before me, just to make me wait, but at the same time, giving me time to relax. But my heart jumped in excitement and nervousness at finding him waving me a hand. I was surprised by his manners, the way he kissed my chick, tenderly holding my arm with a huge and strong hand, the way he was offering me a seat, his respectful and relaxed smile and, yes, his piercing eyes discretely scanning from heat to toe. He seemed to be taller at my side; his deep voice was tender in a way, but sounded like a thunder in my ears.

Only when I sat down I realized we were at a low table, on an armchair, those low enough to let our knees a bit above the seat level. He took advantage of this not only to feel comfortable but also to have a good view of my legs, unavoidable exposed in such position.

He offered me a drink and we started talking about the day, his travel and other minor issues. However, hr stressed he was a Master, although not mine, yet. He told me I did not need to call him Master in public, at least in this environment, which meant there were other “environments”.

He asked me if I had brought the list and the video he had requested, although letting me know I would only give them to him if I decided to submit. I admitted I had, blushing embarrassed.

I was feeling terribly nervous, answering him with very short sentences, barely looking into his eyes, which I found so threatening. Suddenly, his hands closed on my right one, softly, almost caressing, while looking into my eyes.

• Don’t be so tense, he told me. I would be pleased to give you a relaxing massage, but you are probably not ready, yet.

I could not answer, but at least I could smile.

• You are really beautiful, thank you for coming. Without stopping his caress on my hand, he added: Your skin is wonderful, so soft, I cannot wait to scan it with my hands and my mouth, to taste that beauty whose perfume I am enjoying now.

I was paralyzed. Should I let him going ahead? Should I encourage him? Should I escape? Before I could realize, one of his hands rested on my knee. 

I did not understand what he was saying, lost in my fears and, yes, in my lust.

The waiter came to say our table was ready. Table? I seemed to be in Andromeda.

He brought the menu for us to order while finishing our drinks. Trying to relax, I changed the position of my legs as he had left the hand resting on my knee. But this had an evident effect on him, according to a bright in his eyes. Realizing this, I had to admit I had enjoyed his reaction and smiled shyly to him.

While reading the menu, he let me know he was eager for some white meat, but it could wait until the dinner was over. I got the message.

After placing our order, he stood up and offered me his hand to help me doing so. He was a gentleman, indeed. And while waking to our table, I felt his hand in my waist leading me, lightly falling to my hip when we arrived.

The minutes taken by the waiter to be back with our order gave him the chance to go to the point. He asked me how had I arranged to spend the night out of home, something I had not confessed, so far. I told him about the Washington story and that I was supposed to be back home the next day in the evening, which meant I was acknowledging I was ready to spend the night with him, even longer.

• Good, he answered, it seems you are ready to spend the night with me, unless you plan to go out with somebody else.

His smile was cynical. I lowered my eyes in silence.

• Tell me what to you expect from this night, he added. I was unable to speak.
• Let’s see. Option one: you come to my room and we have some sex. Option two: we go to a friend’s dungeon and I give you an introduction to your training as my slave. Option three: we go to a BDSM shop and buy some items necessary for your training, which can begin in my room right tonight. Option four: we just take a walk, since it is too late for theater. You may mention options, of course.
• You are the master, came out of me, you choose.
• I will, but I want to know what would you prefer. Go to the ladies’ room and take your bra off, your coat will keep you discreet, though. When you come back, I want your answer. While you comply with my order, keep in mind the pictures I have sent to you and what I have told you I want from you, without forgetting I have already seen you naked and kneeling before the web camera.

I did what requested, performing according his orders for the first time in real. A storm of ideas, images, fears and fantasies hammered in my mind. But I had to be back. After a sip of water, I had to answer:

• I cannot deny I feel curious about what I can see in the BDSM shop.
• Open your coat a bit and unbutton another one in your blouse.
• Nice cleavage. And beautiful nipples are evident through the blouse fabric. I would like to see more.
• Please, Master, I said almost naturally, we are in public.
• Don’t you want to please me? I want to enjoy your gorgeous body.
• Yes, I want to please you, I could not believe what I was saying, but can’t we go to your room? 
• I am the only one who can see you; the rest of the room is behind your back.

With natural discomfort and trying to keep unseen, I unbuttoned my blouse completely and opened it protected by my coat, exposing my breasts to him.

• Beautiful, your nipples are hard and I bet you are wet, aren’t you? He said triumphal, and continued eating.
• Yes, Master. I lowered my eyes again. I felt one of his hands on my thigh and the fire inside me was almost out of control.
• Do you remember when I showed you my cock on line?
• Yes, Master.
• What do you think it’s going to please him?

Now, he was playing with me; I felt without escape.

• To be inside me, Master.
• In which part of you?

I suppose I looked puzzled and speechless. He smiled and enjoyed his triumph.

• How would you start greeting him?

I was trapped.

• With my mouth, Master. I was defeated, so horny I could do anything.  - I would kiss it, lick it and suck it.
• Until I come into your mouth?
• If that pleases you, Master.
• And you will swallow every drop of sperm, I am sure. I could not answer.
• How do you imagine this black cock inside you?
• Please, Master, don’t …
• Don’t what?
• I will do anything you want, but do not talk that way here, please.
• Am I humiliating you?

I had not thought about it. In a way, he was humiliating me, playing with me; but I could not blame him. It was his right; moreover, I could not say I did not enjoy the scene. And I confessed it to him.

• Do you want this cock in your pussy, too?
• Yes, Master. My eyes, fixed on the plate, were with tears.
• You want it or you need it?
• I’m afraid both, Master.
• And what about your tight white ass?
• Master, do with me as you want, I surrender.
• Anything to regret? As you see, you may still leave; nevertheless, it seems you will be unable to reject anything I want to do with you.
• I know, Master.
• OK, my dear slave, you are a gem, I will teach you to enjoy your enslavement, even your pain. It will involve humiliation sometimes, but you will enjoy. Anyway, that will be in the future, when you become a real slave. But tonight, only a joy that is closer to your past free existence awaits you. Later, you will find why this joy is dull and no longer enough for you.

He signed the check and told me to button my blouse again and put my coat on my shoulders only. Again, I was puzzled.

While walking out of the restaurant, he led me again by my waist. I felt the fabric of my blouse brushing my nipples, making them even harder.

Once in front of the elevator door, he produced a short piece of rope from his pocket and, once inside it, he tied my wrists behind my back. I was paralyzed and shocked. Fortunately, we were alone in the elevator and the coat covered my tied up hands. He was holding my handbag. This was how I entered his room.

Chapter 7        -        ALMOST VANILLA

As the door closed behind me, knowing I was in the hands of a man stronger than me, with my hands tied up, gave me a sense of vulnerability that I found as scary as exciting.

Before I could further consider my situation, his lips were on mine and his hands cupped my breasts. I could not respond but with passion, opening my mouth to invite his tongue in. The coat fell to the floor and, soon, my unbuttoned blouse was sliding around my shoulders.

His lips went down exploring my neck, breast and nipples, making unavoidable my screams of pleasure while his hands were unzipping my skirt, which also fell to the floor.

He sat on the bed and unzipped his trousers, guiding me to kneel before him. Undoubtedly, I was being put in a fellatio position…and I did not fight it. His huge black cock was a challenge and I started kissing its tip, licking along it, kissing his balls, until he took my head in his hands and I knew I had to open my mouth to get it.

I started sucking and I cannot deny I was enjoying his gestures of pleasure.

• You’re a real bitch, slave, I heard with pride, which increased my arousal.

I started considering he would cum into my mouth, but, suddenly, he pulled out and threw me on the bed. In a while, he took off his clothes and climbed over me. I could feel his hands under my body and I was surprised to find he was untying my wrists.

He was not light at all, but his weight over my body had a sensual impact that was driving me crazy. I felt his cock against my labia, making me eager to get him inside. Turning my head as he kissed my neck and played with my ear, I could see our bodies on the wall mirror: it was so erotic that I almost orgasm. His huge body, the contrast of our skins, it was the hottest erotic vision I could imagine.

Nevertheless, the mirror was not the only place where our lovemaking was registered: I could see a video camera on a corner pointing to the bed. It was too late; I did not care; only enjoying was in my mind. I knew that this camera was recording nothing that could be confused with a rape action, but I felt too wild to care.

Of course, this material would make a powerful tool for blackmail, but it increased my arousal several folds. And what the hell, if he wanted to blackmail me, better so, I would not feel the guilt I was feeling at that moment, a feeling that was vanishing, anyway. Then, I if I was on my way to becoming a porn star, why not being the best one?

With a stroke o his hip, my wetness offered little resistance to his invasion. He was kissing me and my arms were around black beautiful body.

• Now, show your skills, move like a little white slut you are, he challenged me.

Needless to tell me twice, I pressed my shoulders and feet to the bed and started moving my hip while embracing him, almost hanging my body from his, while I kissed him furiously and enjoyed his hands playing with my nipples.

I felt his cock become thicker and he pushed against me. I realized he was to cum and I got mad in arousal. Soon, I felt his hot shot inside me and I quivered in strong orgasm that made me lift my feet with my legs as spread apart as possible, my hands trying to force his body even closer to mine, probably scratching his back.

We both seemed to be exhausted by joy, resting in a relaxed position, speechless, for a while, his now flaccid member still inside me, which I enjoyed. My hands were caressing his back and neck and I kissed him with lust while my legs embraced his.

• Good job, slave, he said, but who gave you permission to cum?
• I could not avoid it; it was too much pleasure to hold it. Should I have refrained from orgasm?
• You are a slave, a sex toy, you cannot cum without permission. You must learn that your pleasure is feeling my joy. He added, his hands playing with my breasts and kissing me to increase my delight.
• I know, Master. But I was enjoying your pleasure so much that I could not avoid cumming. I could not find a proper apology.
• You will learn through discipline. Now, you know you deserve to be punished for your fault.
• But, Master, would you prefer I do not react showing you that you are giving me so much joy?
• If you did not react, you would be a useless toy. I am happy you have reacted; you have made me enjoy and you have given me a reason to punish you.

I was puzzled. It seemed I should be punished anyway, whatever I did. I started to understand that my body was to please him in a variety of ways, but these lessons were still to come.

It was almost 11 PM and he told me to dress up to go shopping. He wanted to visit a couple of places where I would learn more things before coming back to the hotel. After a quick shower, we left for some shopping at an unusual hour, me feeling really a woman after what I had lived in that room.

Chapter 8        -        KINKY SHOPPING AND BAR HOPPING

The past hours had made me feel quite good and I had forgotten the strange relationship was establishing.

We left the hotel and took 42 St. Westwards. Not a good neighborhood for a lady! Fortunately, I felt safe walking with my big man.

He stopped in front of a sex shop and told me that, if I was to submit, I had to do everything he requested. I was not his slave, yet, but I should have to behave inside that shop. Moreover, there was already a pending punishment for my unauthorized orgasm.

He recalled me that, even when I still had not given him the video I had carried to the meeting, he had enough material to hurt my life in every aspect, considering what he had gathered during our e-chats and our recent bed action. He would not use this material but for our own pleasure, but I should not challenge his authority in the sex shop.

I had never been in such a place before, but I agreed to obey. Frightened, curious and horny again, we entered the shop. I was shocked to realize I was the only woman inside. I found myself in such an uncomfortable situation that I could bare look at the variety of goods displayed in the shelves, just being able to hold firmly his strong arm.

Some of the customers seem to feel quite like I did at finding me there. Others were openly undressing me with their eyes.

• Let’s look something for you to wear, Master Panther commanded, triggering interested looks around. Firstly, your dress. 

After some hesitation, he chose a tight red mini dress, with a very low-neck line, backless and with neck straps. Then, he headed to the bondage items, focusing sets of leather shackles and collars. He invited me to pick up the one I liked best.

With my head spinning and butterflies in my tummy, I tried to finish our shopping as fast as possible. I pointed a set of four black leather and collar, each with golden D rings. He corrected my choice by saying I should prefer a similar one with padded inner surface, since they would be better if he decided to hang me with them. I thought I had heard and seen all, but more was to come.

Next stop was by the punishment and discipline items. He invited me to choose a whip, a paddle or a flogger; he would get the rest he found fit, anyway. But he wanted to make me do this shopping. He also made me choose a pair of nipple clamps and a vibrator. I simply pointed anything in order to get rid of this situation at once. Yet, I thought that a flogger would be less harmful that those long tailed whips, some with knots or metal parts. I was starting to be as frightened as never in my life.

But the most shocking part was when he commanded me to pay those items with my credit card. As I looked so puzzled, he explained he wanted me to be registered as buying those items by my free will.

Finally, he ordered me to go to the trying booth and change my office attire for the slutty dress we had just bought. My only chance to look different to a street hooker was to put my coat on, as it was cold outside. Nevertheless, the coat was longer than the dress!

What I could not avoid, though, was to leave the shop wearing the collar, fixed with a small padlock.

Under such conditions, we walked a couple of blocks until what seemed to be a strippers club.

While walking, he asked me how I was feeling. I was obviously embarrassed as a consequence of my attire and public exhibition of my collar, although those we crossed were more interested in my exposed legs. I told him, anyway, that I felt like a whore.

• You should not speak so of those women. Actually, you may do the same as they do; only that you would not get paid, he added laughing.
• You do not need to humiliate me, was my angry answer.
• Oh, baby, you’ve got to learn a couple of things. You need to learn that if I want so, you will be a prostitute. How would you feel fucking a guy and bringing me the money your are paid?
• You are kidding!
• Not at all. Becoming my slave means you do anything you are asked to. And you ought to feel which your place in the world is to acknowledge that it is too good from me to own you. Becoming my slave is not your gift but an honor you may not deserve and that you only get because I am very kind.

I could not believe what I was listening; this was too much. But I was not in a neighborhood I could walk alone, especially looking like that. I just shut up, lowered my eyes and accepted his guidance to the club.

Once inside, he ordered me to take off my coat. Now, I really looked like any of the girls working there; only those dancing by the poles were more exposed!

• Watch this. Do you know why you are here?

I started to be really frightened.

• I will not ask you to act as a stripper or a topless dancer in your hometown for the sake of your privacy. I would not like that you could be seen by anybody who knows you. But, definitively, you will do so in Chicago. You’ve got to know how it feels. And I hope you will be particularly good when entertaining my friends in some private parties. Otherwise, you will face punishment.
• Do you mean that you will make a stripper and a prostitute of me?
• No, you are already a whore. Do not tell me you have never fantasized about getting paid for sex. And haven’t you wondered how it would feel to undress before a lot of men getting mad as they admire your beauty? Come on! Answer me, bitch! He asked aggressively, seeming to be angry.
• My slaves do anything I want, just for them to understand their place. Don’t make me ask twice!
• Yes, Master.
• Yes, what?! He was getting angry, I was sure; and I was terrified.
• I will do anything you want, Master.
• Why?
• Bbbbecause I am a whore.
• Yeah, a repressed one, but I will let her fly in the freedom of slavery. He added, obviously relaxed.

I had to swallow the drink he had ordered for me to gain some courage to stay there, seated in those bar stools so high that made it unavoidable to exposed my crossed legs. Meanwhile, I could not but think of how would it feel to be dancing topless clinching those poles.

After finishing our drinks, he felt he had exhibited me enough, and took my arm guiding me out. I though we would finally go back to the hotel. But he headed somewhere else.

It seemed to be just another bar. Then, his order to put the wrists shackles on before entering was a surprise; not to mention when he told me to turn around and joined them with another padlock. Finally, he attached the leash to my collar. This was my way to enter this bar, which happened to be a BDSM one.

As I realized there were several couples in the same mood, I regained composure. Actually, being guided by that leash, chained and exhibited as a slave in an environment where it seemed to be acceptable, started to turn me on.

My Master explained me that it was late tonight and we had missed the show. And I remembered that club where my interest and curiosity had started. He told me that we would have time to visit other similar places in Chicago, where I would eventually be exhibited as his slave, or be used in some bondage or torment class, or, perhaps, be auctioned.

This was completely crazy! How could I be sinking in those waters? I would just let him do for tonight and never meet him again. Or if I did, I would take care of avoiding Chicago!

Chapter 9        -        INTRODUCTION TO DISCIPLINE

We got a cab to return to the hotel. Fortunately, he had freed my hands and I had put my coat on again. But the collar was still there and the leash hanged inside my coat, between my breasts.

During our short trip back, his right hand was playing within my thighs, which I tried to keep crossed, while his left one was around my shoulders reaching my left breast as he kissed my neck and ear. I could see the driver having his fun through the mirror.

Meanwhile, the image of the pole dancers, of other slaves at the BDSM club being exhibited and auctioned, remembering the items I have been order to buy charging my credit card, the sex we had had in his room, the video I had left there stating my wish to submit, all was dancing in my mind and tormenting me.

His hands and kisses were turning me on. When we arrived at the hotel, I could not wait to be in his room, in part because of my short dress but mainly because I needed sex again.

We enter his room rolling on the wall, his strong body pressing me against it while he intensified his kisses. Our tongues danced in passion. Almost without noticing, I was naked, my wrists held behind me by one of his hands while he had put a finger inside my vagina and was making my night.

But suddenly, his stopped to my frustration.

• Show me what you have bought to please me, he commanded.

I walked to the bag, opened it and took the nipple clamps, the vibrator and the flogger, which I put on the bed.

He ordered me to kneel by the bed and chained my hands together to one of the posts.

• Please, Master…was all I could say in an attempt to find mercy.
• You remember you had to be punished.
• Yes, Master.
• Moreover, I would like to hear your screams of pain. This would be enough reason for you to beg to be tormented. He added heading again to his camera, which he switched on.
• Yes, Master. I conceded after lowering my eyes.
• I cannot hear you, slut. He added softly.
• Please, Master, I beg you to punish me. I said looking at him. I need to see the joy of my Master when I scream in pain. I was really scared.

He came to me and I felt one of the clamps bit my left nipple. Fortunately, he did not press it, just adjusting it enough to avoid it falling. Then, the one on my right nipple followed.

• Would you like to kiss my flogger? He said offering it to my mouth. I kissed it in submission.

He started by making its tails creep on my right shoulder.

• How does it feel, slave? How would it feel landing on your back?

I was quivering in anticipation, scared to death. And without I could answer, I felt the first stroke. It was not hard, but there were a hundred stinks on my back.

• Where are your manners, slave? Don’t you like it? You should thank me for this.
• Thank you, Master. Please, let me please you more. I attempted to satisfy him.

And he did it again, and again, while I screamed in pain but also to please his sadistic drive. I found myself willing to please him and, in spite of my pain, of feeling how my back was getting hot, I could enjoy his smile.

After almost ten strokes, he stopped and took the clamps off my nipples, which I found too sensitive to his touch. He was enjoying them with his lips, which had made me forget my back pain, keeping me focused on the pleasure of the moment.

Without knowing when, my hands had been clasped again behind my back and he was naked, too. Laid on his back he asked how would I please him. It was not difficult to imagine how at the view of his huge black stick firmly pointing the ceiling.

I walked with my knees at each side of his body willing to ride that manhood, but he stopped me telling a slave should never be above her owner (owner!!). I understood it was time for my mouth to work and I went to my job.

I would not say I did not enjoy sucking him, feeling him twisting in pleasure as my tongue circled its head, teased its opening and while my mouth took as much as I could inside it. I was doing my sucking, kissing and licking with passion; I really liked it. However, I could not stand too much when his hands tried to drive my head to fuck my mouth deeper. He realized it and let me do.

I knew this time he would cum inside me, but I was so horny I did not care. I guessed I should swallow all his sperm when he ejaculates. It was not my first blowjob and I knew what a man likes. Nevertheless, I was not a fan of such a complete job at all; but I admit that this was the first time I was enjoying it myself and not just my partner’s joy.

Then, when he ejaculated, I tried to keep sucking in spite of the obvious difficulty and started to swallow. My hands made useless by the shackles required a further effort to manage the situation, but considering his moans of pleasure, I was doing it quite well.

The whole situation and his satisfaction had driven me mad in arousal, and I could not but keeping on sucking even after licking him clean. I could not recognize myself! I was as horny as hell and, eventually, I got his member stiff again.

At this moment, he lifted to his position and climbed onto me. I cheered up feeling that my moment had come when I felt his cock pressing my labia. But it was going to be different. After teasing me a bit, he pulled back.

After turning me around, he unlocked my wrists shackles only to fix them again to the bead head. Then, he got up and came back with the ankle shackles, which he attached while kissing and caressing my legs.

Then, he started to use the vibrator on my clit and, slowly, pushed it inside me. I twisted in my bondage in pleasure until he took it off. He turned me around again and, once face down, he pulled my legs apart linking the ankle shackles to the bed posts, before starting again to play with the vibrator.

I drenched making it quite slippery, which he used to insert it, slowly, carefully, yet with my discomfort, into my anus. I was being lubricated with my own juices.

Slowly, I was becoming used to that invasion. At this time, even when I could not see him, I felt he had left the bed and, later, I realized he had lubricated his cock with something, since when he came back, he pulled the vibrator off me and climbed onto me. His weight over my body, his hands working one on my breasts while the other on my clit, his lips kissing my spine from the crack of my bottom to my nape, were driving me crazy, while anticipating the obvious anal intercourse he was preparing.

Finally, I felt his cock pressing my sphincter.

• Relax, he whispered, you will like this as much as any bitch does. Do you ant me to fuck your tight white ass?
• Yes, Master. Was my automatic answer.

And I think I did mean it in spite of being anal something I had scarcely practiced and I did not like. He penetrated me with delicate, yet powerful strokes, making me feel cared about me.

This mixture of domination and caring, his strength and the helplessness of my bondage made me feel absolutely in his hands. I felt that I was his belonging and I had to reward his care, indeed. Moreover, it was evident that he was trying to make me enjoy.

My arousal was as overwhelming as his power; I pressed my knees and chest to the bed, so raising my hips to better allow his penetration. In a way, I was ashamed, but I was proud to make him happy.

And, even when I could not make major movements, I could still move my hips to match his strokes, until I felt his hot shot inside me, after which he seemed to collapse.

Even when I had not climaxed, I felt happy, proud of what I had evidently made him feel. Moreover, it had not felt pain as I had expected, just some discomfort. I would say I had enjoyed it myself.

But I was also disappointed when he told me I would not cum this time. And I would not do so until I met him in Chicago, if I decided to become his slave. 

Chapter 10        -        TIME TO SUBMIT 

I do not know for how long I had slept. I only remember recovering my senses slowly and not sure of where I am until several minutes. I realized I was in bed, naked, untied and alone in his hotel room.

I rushed to the mirror to check my still aching back, only to find some marks left by the flogging I had received. I also felt some sore in my anus.

There was a note on the table, praising my performance as a slut and a slave. He stated he would be back late and acknowledge I would have to go home before he arrived. Then, he invited me to make my decision: I could keep the attached CDs containing all the compromising pictures and movies or I could leave them on the table together with the one he had ordered me to prepare and, consequently, become his slave. This would not be a test like this of the last day but a real commitment for, at least, six months.

He had already told me this would involve no limits, discipline, no pleasure without pain (although no pain without pleasure), humiliation, exhibitionism, being shared, eventually prostitution or being sold.

It seemed too much to me, but I wanted to stay with under his power. I had enjoyed it last night. I could still enjoy his dark skin contrasting mine, his weight over me, his bold head between my breasts…wow I was getting horny right there!

Time was flying and I had to leave. If I could only make another test. I had a shower with turmoil in my head.

Before I was ready to decide, I found myself dressed and without further time to doubt. I left my CD by his and left the room. Once the door closed, I knew I could not go back: I was his slave.

Nervous, I waked away. But at the same time, I was feeling sexy and, according to some sights I received, it showed. Perhaps, I was happy. Anyway, my brain was trying to develop a plan that would justify traveling to Chicago, since I knew my Master would demand it sooner rather than later.

Chapter 11        -        ENSLAVEMENT SHOWS

As he neither call me nor contacted me by mail in a couple of days, I sent an e-mail asking if everything was fine. His blunt answer was that a slave should not speak unless permitted or to answer her Master’s questions.

He kept me waiting for another fortnight until he called me to my office saying he had studied my video, which he called a slave application, and have decided to give me the opportunity to get trained by him. He could not sound more arrogant, but I was so excited to hear him again that, even under the problematic situation of receiving his call at office, I could barely refrain that excitement.

He told me he had managed to get a supply contract that would be granted to my company. This would involve supervising and training of the customer during several months and his idea was that I would be the person who would take care of that issues, then forcing frequent trips to Chicago. My time there would be devoted to get training rather than to training people within the scope of my job. Of course, I understood his move, but could not believe he was so powerful as to have been able to make such an arrangement. At the same time, that power showed me I was really in his hands.

I could only ask when he was planning me to travel. He answered that as soon as my next period was over supposedly in a couple of weeks. He ordered me to send him a full detail of my measures since he would have to purchase some slave attire for me to wear. Even when he would not disclose those items, he made it clear that I should look like the slut hidden inside my daily look.

He gave me also instructions regarding my sexual life: I should refrain from any masturbation and from any sexual intercourse unless solicited by my husband. But I should avoid seducing him.

But the most striking order was that I should have to give him a proof of my devotion to his orders and, at the same time, understanding that I am not better than a prostitute. This was shocking. Anyway, I could not refuse anything considering the compromising material I had given to him.

He told me that in a couple of days one of his friends, he gave me his name, would be visiting NYC and would call me to escort him. That meant I should be his escort. He had told his friend that I was being trained as a prostitute and that I would be at his service during three hours during his visit. All that was required was to test how well my training was evolving. I could not believe I was going to work as a prostitute.

• Aren’t you jealous? How can you let me have sex with another man? I asked.
• You are not supposed to discuss my orders, you are my slave. Don’t forget your place, your role and what will happen to you if you misbehave, not to mention if you disobey. Was his answer.

However, he gave me his explanation.

Firstly, I should realize I am not better than any prostitute and that being his slave was a great honor to me. Second, only our belongings can be given to others; then, being handled to a friend or to whomever he decided was a way for me, for him and for the one who eventually used me (a humiliating expression, indeed) to assess the rights of possession.

Moreover, such a situation could be my opportunity of making him proud of his belonging if his friend could find me as good as possible. Even more, I would have to make anybody envy him. This would be my first opportunity, but not the last one, of making him feel proud of owning me. Otherwise, he would have to sell me to someone who had not a need for the high quality of things he was fond of.

He had made me feel a thing, not a person. And I started to understand what my place would be. I could only comply with his requests. Shame, fear, anger, but also a strong arousal were fighting inside me. And, yes, I was facing a challenge: I did not want him to think I was a low value property, I wanted to make him proud of me even enduring that bizarre order. I realized I had started to feel a property, his property.

A couple of days later, I received a call in my mobile phone. It was his friend, telling me that he had arrived in NYC and in need of my service. “My service”: that was shocking, almost insulting, but I could do nothing but to act as ordered.

Feeling almost despair and with my mouth dry, I asked when he wanted me to meet him. We arranged that it would be after lunch hour on the next day, when we “would take some free time”.

The next day I had to arrange leaving my job at noon saying I had to visit my doctor. So, dressed in my corporate attire, I headed to my first assignment as a prostitute. I just felt I should not wear my bra.

Arriving at the hotel, I went directly to the room he had told me, as nervous and ashamed as I had never been before.

Chapter 11        -        MY FIRST ASSIGNEMENT

The man who opened the door was a bolding rather low man in his early 40s, a bit outweighed, with a round face and a short strong neck; he was probably Hispanic. He was wearing trousers and a formal shirt, as if he had just taken off his coat and necktie. He was not the type that would make me horny, indeed. I tried to face this as a task; wasn’t it?

I did not know how to introduce myself. I told him my name and raised my right hand in an usual corporate attitude. He smiled and I blushed realizing how stupid I was looking.

• Come in, honey. He said smiling and introducing himself. It seems you are not experienced in these matters, but you are a really beautiful mare. You have been a good choice.
• No, Sir, I am just under training, I’m sorry. I acknowledged trying to refrain my tears of anger and despaired shame. But I assure you will have no regrets.

And overcoming my embarrassment and anger, I put my arms around his neck and landed a soft kiss on his lips.

• Hey, not a bad start! He added, embracing me and letting his hands cup my bottom.

I lowered my hands to rest on his chest in an attempt to stop that clinch, decided to leave my handbag and take my coat off. I knew that I would have to undress and, for some reason, I wanted to get rid of the whole thing as fast as possible.

He helped me with my coat and asked if I wanted something to drink. Without answering, I kissed him again and started unbuttoning his shirt. His tongue made his way into my mouth while one of his hands took care of my breast and the other held my waist pressing our bellies together.

This was disgusting, but suddenly, I started figuring my Master was looking at me. Perhaps there was a camera and he could be evaluating my performance. This turned me on and I started feeling wet, something my client was testing, by the way. At this moment I lost my sense of time and my control. I just remember that soon I was really horny and naked on the bed. I cannot way how everything developed, but I remember the guy keening between my legs, pulling them apart and penetrating me. I embraced him and tried to match his strokes. Even when  I was not enjoying this, I have to admit that I had no negative feelings any longer. After all, the sensation was not that bad.

Short later, I felt his penis getting thicker and stiffer while he was breathing heavily and pumping furiously. I decided it was time to fake my orgasm tensing my legs, embracing him strongly and moaning. It was just in time: he was exploding and, later collapsing inside me.

I kept on caressing and kissing him, thanking him and saying it had been an unexpectedly intense experience. But he had fell asleep.

I could not believe I had been so lucky. My fears of having a quite harder experience, sucking his cock included seemed to dissipate. He snored heavily during an hour, while I did not know what to do. What if I left? He could be unsatisfied and he would give a bad report. I had to stay. But if he wanted to start all over again and demanded oral sex?

I should be ready to anything. Well, at least, anal would be only my Master’s right.

Suddenly, I felt he was coming alive, his hand testing my presence on the bed. I decided to put a leg on his body and press my breast against his chest, nibbling his ear. Soon I would have to regret, since this was like a call for more sex and it took him not too long to start another raid. This time, he made me doggy style, a position he managed to accommodate me for; of course, I did not resist.

After finishing with me, he got up and went to the bathroom, leaving me loaded there. When he came back, he kissed me and told me I had been good in spite of my lack of experience.
I thought it was heaven when he jumped to catch the clock and told me he was late for a meeting.

He started dressing and I did not know what to do.

- Come on baby, you are not going to leave naked, are you?

I did not need a second hint to get dressed. When we were ready to leave, I perceived he was taking his wallet. Fearing to do wrong, I told him:

- No, Sir, it has been too good to me to get paid and my Master has not told me I could charge you.

Puzzled, but evidently proud of his supposed success, he handled me a ten, saying it was just a tip for my excellent job. I was getting money for having fucked a man who I had never seen before; it was not good, but it left me so horny I could not believe it.

We left the hotel together to take different ways. I left walking as fast as I could of the place where I had worked as a prostitute for the first time. Would there be more?

Chapter 12        -        TRAINING STARTS

All arrangements had been made. He was waiting for me at the main terminal and, after receiving me with a tender kiss and words as gentle as encouraging, he put a strong arm around my shoulder guiding me to the luggage claim area while chatting almost casually.

Once with my bag, we headed to the parking lot, while my heart started pumping harder, my breath became more agitated and fear to the unknown fought an increasing arousal. 

The images of those moments at the shop, at the BDSM club where I was promised that in Chicago I would be exhibited as his slave, or used in some bondage or torment class, or, perhaps, be auctioned, the imagined but uncertain training I was to undergo, all this was making my head spin.

We drove to the countryside and finally arrived at a farm road. I was unable to speak, just answering with short sentences at his casual questions about my trip. However, it was time just for listening. And what I was listening was how he had arranged my professional duties in town.

I could not believe his power. He had arranged everything in such a way that he commanded my job there, the contract and my working hours, even if I had to work or not was in his hands. Nobody could know if I was working or not but through him, rendering me completely in his hands. Only complying with his plans I would be able to keep my position in the company. How could he have so much power?

Whatever the case, there was not only blackmail material in his hands but also my career was under his will. I understood I had become nothing but his toy.

A few miles forward and the car stopped by a cottage surrounded by a corn field. We were in the middle of nowhere. I immediately realized nobody would hear me in case I asked for help. Fortunately, my cell phone was with a full charged battery.

He left the car and politely came to open my door. I was surprised when he embraced me and kissed my lips tenderly. Then he guided me to the house, with a hand softly pushing my waist.

• Well, we are in. He said and he let me know that the security camera had filmed me entering without any sign of being forced to.

Evidently, he had planned every detail to set any suspicion of violence aside. In fact, my arrival at the house and all previous videos, pictures and letters were full evidence of my consent to anything going on.

He showed me the facilities, letting certain door to be explained later, since it was the entrance to the basement, where little remained to be imagined about.

My fears were increasing at each moment. Yet, the sense of helplessness was accompanied by resignation to my unavoidable fate and curiosity, not to mention an embarrassing arousal. What could I do but to wait what had already been described by pictures, stories, his explanations and my own fantasies?

He told me to unpack and I asked to get a bath. I realized that beyond my fear and curiosity, I was eager and excited, willing to impact him; I wanted him to find me beautiful, sexy and desirable. Then, I asked him what he would like me to wear for the night. I realized how candid I had been when he handled me a leather set of collar and shackles.

• Put your heeled sandals on, too. He added.

Half an hour later, I was bathed, naked and fastening the leather items around my neck, wrists and ankles. They had a lock that would be opened with a key, rendering them impossible to take off. Once with them on, I buckled my sandals and went to kneel before my Master.

He ordered me to prepare something to for dinner and I went to the kitchen, where I managed to cook a vegetables pie. After serving him, I knelt by his chair, being ordered to clasp my hands behind my neck, eyes down. Once he had eaten, I cleaned the kitchen and waited his next order, which was not related to my turn to eat. Anyway, I was too nervous to by hungry.

• Slave, it is time to start your training. First steps will be conditioning your mind to your place in the world.

Then, he attached a leash to one of the rings of my collar and pulled me after him towards that door that would be the entrance to a deeper underworld of enslavement. In spite of the desperation I was feeling at such a fearful destiny, I could not control a strange increasing arousal. Looking at his huge and strong body and realizing his power over me turned me on. It embarrassed me, though, since I wondered how this matched to my career, my independent personality, my marriage and my social position.

I started descending after him, descending the staircase and my level in life…

Chapter 13        -        MIND CONDITIONING

I was ordered to kneel by a pole, my feet at its side and my hands above my head. I was fixed in that position by short chains linking the ankle shackles to the sides of the pole and my wrists to a ring above my head. The collar was also attached to the pole making it impossible for me to move from that position.

Then, he inserted a small metal rod inside my vagina and put metal clamps on my nipples, which fortunately were not adjusted to a painful position. However, this was not going to be so easy, since cables linking those gadgets quickly shown me that they would be used as electrodes linked to a black control with switches and a dial.

• This, he explained enjoying my horror, may give from an almost undetectable tickle to an unbearable pain. It is up to you how tough it is going to be.
• I will ask questions. He went on explaining. - If I like your answer, nothing will happen. But if I don’t, or if you do not answer immediately, you will understand what this is for. The idea is that you react immediately and without thinking as the slave slut you are.
• Of course, the sooner you answer, the time I will allow you to answer without a shock will be shorter, increasing the level of difficulty and modeling your thoughts and feelings the way I want. Soon, your mind will be conditioned to the ideas I want to seed in your brain. Any questions, slave?

I could not speak. I just said no with my head.

• Of course, you will never be as fast to answer as to avoid receiving a shock. Whatever your reaction, I want to enjoy you twisting in pain and begging.

His sadistic grin was driving me to a tension that could make me pass out. Let’s start.

• Who are you?
• Your slave. I immediately felt a current in my nipples.
• Where did you leave your manners, bitch? I understood my mistake and the consequences. I would never forget my manners again.
• Your slave, Master, your property, Master. I added desperately.
• And which are you worth?

Some seconds of doubt meant another shock, this time inside my vagina. Tears fell from my eyes.

• I am worth nothing, Master. I am a useless thing that is only willing to be fucked by you to be something in life.
• Does it hurt?
• Yes, Master, but I endure it to feel your joy and your power. Where was this idea coming from?
• Do you want me to stop? A new doubt and new shocks.

This way I started learning I should not beg him to stop but to follow tormenting me, because it pleased him, because my pain was his pleasure and I had to live for his pleasure.

By the second day, I had understood the way and the speed to react properly in order to keep pain at a low level. And to my surprise and shame, this low level acted as an erotic stimulant.

But this training was wiping any thinking, reaction and intension to resist any of his orders or even his ideas. I was being molded to his will and reacted automatically to orders.

But this was just one of his games. And has not ended.

Chapter 14        -        THE WHIP

Another of his torments was whipping me, which I had thought would be a punishment. Then, I have always been quite obedient and have struggled to please him.

However, it also resulted in a way of training, of enforcing behavior or just a way of making me feel I am his toy. And I cannot but admit the effect is quite clear.

There is a frame in the basement where my wrists and ankles are spread wide apart, my arms pointing up. This way, I am fully exposed to receiving the strokes of his whips, which may have one of more tails.

He has never hurt me beyond leaving some marks that vanish soon. Even more, when I am close to return home, he uses an ointment on my body previous to whip me that avoids such marks. I have learnt that this is a sort of erotic torment. I would not say I enjoy it, but it makes me feel his slave, his power.

And when he mixes this treatment with his sensual caresses and kisses, I really turn on to a state I do anything to please him, finding my own pleasure in his.

He usually makes me kiss the whip and beg for it. And he often makes videos that make me wild when I watch them later.

Sometimes, he combines whipping with the use of nipple clamps, showing a creative variety of delivering torments. But he has never, never, really hurt me.

This is why my mind has been modeled to serve him, making it natural to feel I am his property, to kneel before him or to obey any order I receive. I have discovered that I can even enjoy being deprived of joy, this meaning orgasm denial, for instance.

I have found my body being used something normal. This means sexual use or becoming a bondage or torment toy. Becoming such an object of someone else’s will is humiliating, no doubt about it; but I cannot say I do not enjoy it. Not to mention that, after orgasm denial, when I am granted an orgasm, it is of an unprecedented intensity. And knowing that I can get pleasure only after enduring pain, which is never as intense as pleasure, I am often if not generally willing his torments.

In fact, realizing how much all this makes my Master happy, satisfied and proud of me, how much he values his belonging, makes me feel happy and proud, too.

But there is another view of torment and it is stimulation. The way he applies pain, mildly, often teasing and talking in a way that stresses my positive reactions, showing that beyond twisting in my restrain I feel some joy, is very erotic. I was surprised to find how  an orgasm is built under such condition.

I must also say I have received orders that I had never imagined I could follow. He has never broken his promise to respect my limits, but there are things within those limits that have surprised me, since I had not even considered its existence: to enjoy pain, to speak in a humiliating way of myself, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, remote control, mind control, to be shared and so on.

Now, I know the real meaning of slavery. I have got used to speak of myself in third person, since I have accepted being deprived from my personality. Even being referred to as “it” instead of “she” is usual, normal and I do not regret: this is my place in the world.

Chapter 15        -        SERVING HIM AND HIS FRIENDS

I had been kept naked and in hogtie bondage probably for a couple of hours when I heard the door open and Master entered guiding three friends. I was shocked at being seen in such a situation by these men, who I had already met at a bar, while chatting over some drinks with Master.

I was aware that his friends new that any woman seen with Master was his slave, then I was sure they knew what I was. But being exposed in such a way was unexpected. To make it worst, one of these men worked at a client’s office and usually met me at work.

This was a graying man with an executive look, on his late forties. The other two were strong black males who seemed to be sharing some sport activity with Master.

Master asked them if they wanted to go out for supper of if they preferred staying at home and being served by his slave. They chose this and I was released and ordered to take a bath before preparing something to eat.

At least, I could use the restroom after a long time there!

I cleaned myself and was ordered to dress accordingly: heels, thongs, collar and shackles on wrists and ankles. Master linked my wrists and ankles with chains loose enough to allow moving, although their rattle made them aware of my movements and attracted their attention all the time. How could I ever face that man again while working?

But my humiliation had just started. While serving them, Master urged them to enjoy spanking my bottom and touching me the way they preferred. They enjoyed playing with my body and commenting about me with words increasingly explicit and degrading. I blushed and rage caused my eyes to fill with tears, but I kept my place: I am a slave.

And after eating and drinking, the sexual games started. One of the black guys ripped my thong off with a sudden attack and took me to a sofa where I was thrown and could barely see when he unzipped his trousers before penetrating me. Before I could react, I was being fucked before the others, who were commenting animatedly about how good it was becoming.

After he finished, I felt the executive pulling my hair and getting me on my knees before him. He member was already pointing at me. He left him fall on an armchair and pulled me towards it. There was little doubt I was commanded to suck it. While doing so, the others kept laughing, drinking and waiting their turn.

Master was receiving congratulations for his property, me, all the time.

I was still trying to swallow this man’s cum when I found myself being done doggy style by the other black man. I was so humiliated by this time and so concerned about what my Master was feeling that I acted almost automatically to match the rhythm of this last attack. And to my surprise and shame, I realize that an orgasm was building inside me. When it exploded, my moans were audible enough to cause a violent ejaculation on the rapist in turn.

I could hear they were saying what a bitch I was as I was enjoying the gangbang.

Master held me from an arm and threw me over his black friend who had been the first one to fuck me, now lying on back on the floor. I was commanded to ride his erected penis. By this time, I am afraid I had passed the humiliation level and had been taken over by a shameful arousal. As I started fucking this man, I felt Master cupping my breasts from behind and my hormones soared.

Master pushed me forward making me flat on his friend and I felt his penis penetrating my ass. I could not believe it: I was being fuck by two men simultaneously. I almost passed in arousal, but could see the executive pointing a camera at us. It is impossible to say why I was enjoying it, but I cannot deny I did.

At the end of the orgy, when his friends had left, Master told me he was proud of me, which almost made me cum again. Falling on my knees before him I begged to suck his cock, which I did with extraordinary enthusiasm. I was proud myself. Of what? Of being a good slave.

Even after swallowing his cum, I was so turned on I was unable to stop sucking and licking and kissing with passion and lust, until he was hard again…and he fucked me once more.

Chapter 16        -        THE AUCTION

He had told me we had been invited to a party at a night club. Soon, I

Found out it was a club devoted to the bdsm lifestyle.

We took a table with some of his friends. After a while, he took me apart and told me I must experience something new about the lifestyle and, as I was intrigued and not sure of what he was talking about he  recalled me that I must understand I belong to him, that I am his property.

Of course, I agreed. But he insist I was to under go another step forward, one to show his ownership to me, to him and to everybody there: he had decided to give me in an auction.

- But do not worry: it will be for a limited time, he explained at my desperation.

This way, I was supposed that I would feel what being auctioned as a slave is and understand that I am a dehumanized property that can be sold or rented and how much I belong to my Master. And he would be proud of showing it to everybody.

This was crazy. But it had not been considered in the statement of my limits. I would have never imagined something like this could happen. Then, I have no alternative that to accept my Master decision. But I also felt I needed to please him and to show everybody I am his.

- Make sure you are returned with compliments, or you will be severely punished. Make me proud of you. He added to my astonishment.

Before I could react, the manager came to us and took me away.

I was told to undress and remain in just heels and thongs, my hands tied to a ring on the wall in a room where other slaves were also waiting to be auctioned. A guard with a whip was controlling our silence.

After a couple of hours, the manager came for the first slave. And so on came the moment for other five girls. I kept waiting in horror.

Suddenly, the manager ordered the guard to take me to the mean room, after tying my hands behind my back. He put a collar with a leash around my neck and pulled me to show me in front of the party.

The auctioneer started praising my long legs, my round butts and my firm breasts, taking his time to touch each part he was describing, making sure my nipples become hard.

He also pointed out that this slave was not a typical woman aiming at doing anything because of some desperate personal situation, but a real lady, someone who has just been put into slavery and still in need of discipline and training, a wild mane.

I could not be more embarrassed being shown as something on sale. But I am ashamed to admit that I was strongly turned on.

Not to tell about the enhancement of both my embarrassment and my arousal when the bids started.

I could not see who put the bids because lights were pointing towards where I was standing in front of everybody. 

I was concerned about those who could recognize me. What if one of my neighbors was present? Or work fellows? What if the best bid was from a client? Or even worst: from an assistant! This was becoming a nightmare.

And when I heard "sold" I almost died.

But I was surprised to find out that the one to claim the ownership was my Master. I cannot describe my relief as he approached to take his possession. I could do nothing but kneeling before him, regardless of being in front of so many people.

Actually, I was so happy of making public I was his slave.

This experience showed me in a more clear way that I am a slave, his slave, a property he paid for.

When I was taken to his table, I could see that his friends congratulating him.

Still, my body was uncovered, my hands tied up. He seemed not to care about it and he pulled the leash to make me kneel near his seat. I remained so for the rest of the night, until he invited his friends to his house to have a last drink.

I could not believe he could keep me almost naked before his friends, but I knew that a slave would not talk until asked.

Once at home, my ties were replaced by a set of shackles and chains which allowed me to walk and to use my hands freely, even when making me feel in captivity. Another chain linked wrists to ankles and collar. Still thongs, heels and chains being my attire, I was ordered to serve drinks for his friends.

When they left, I had my reward consisting on pleasing him at the bedroom. And I know how to do so, especially when taken to such a level of arousal and under such a plain disclosure of my slavery.

Chapter 17        -        BLIND SERVICE AT A PARTY

It was a rainy day when I went to pick him up at the airport at noon. He was in a hurry for a business meeting in NYC. I carried him to his hotel and he asked me if I would not mind being his secretary for the meeting. Just asking while he could order? He explained he knew that, being in my hometown, I would possibly be engaged for the evening. His kindness and understanding is always touching.

Fortunately, I could manage to arrange being home only at 10 PM; this gave me several hours to spend at his service.

The meeting started at 3 PM at his suite. Five men were attending and I stayed in another room just serving them coffee or sodas as required, plus typing some occasional briefs. At 5 PM, I had some tea and crackers ready for them.

When they were served, my Master took me apart and told me I had impressed those men, particularly two of them. He would appreciate, consequently, my fullest effort to make them happy to sign up the deal, which would require showing what a whore I am.

• Again playing the prostitute? I asked in a way he did not liked, for what I received a face slap that, although, soft, made me burst into tears.
• Go to the bathroom and compose yourself. Then, go to my room, you will be used, slave.

There was little to add; I obeyed immediately. Once in his bedroom, he blindfolded me and ordered me to stay that way. I heard the door open and people enter the room. I quiver at the question of who of the men had arrived.

I heard my Master telling them to enjoy. Soon, hands were working on my breasts, a man was kissing me deeply and another pair of hands were raising my dress and rubbing my inner thighs. The man behind me unzipped my dress while kissing my nape; meanwhile, the other one was cupping my breasts and kissing me.

Before I could realize, I was naked and kneeling, with a cock pushing my lips open. I started sucking submissively wondering where the other man was. I felt the man who I was sucking was lowering his body, probably, sitting down. This forced me to bend forward to keep on duty. Under this position, I felt fingers playing with my pussy, which finally got as wet as he wanted; penetration followed consequently.

By this time, I was absolutely dominated by the circumstances and my arousal could not be denied. I lost idea of what I was doing and I just started to match the strokes of the man fucking me while, unconsciously, I was sucking and licking with evident enthusiasm the other guy. A few minutes later, they had unloaded their charge inside me, causing an orgasm full of shame and guilt on me. How could I be back to face those men?

They left the room and I went to the bathroom to arrange myself. Feeling as recovered as I could, I went back to the meeting room, where I found all them signing up some papers while chatting relaxed.

- Come on miss! We were missing you, said one of them. Where have you been? May we have some drinks, now?

Evidently, two of them plus my Master, at least, knew the answer. But I could not imagine who knew my secret. I felt my cheeks red, I was ashamed and almost crying while serving them some drinks. I could realize my Master was enjoying my humiliation, but I felt some comfort when he, standing behind me, discretely put his hand on my bottom.

Chapter 18        -        LENT TO A PIMP

Next day, I realized he was somehow upset. In fact, he had found that I had objected his orders even when having done as requested. He remained me that a slave’s duty is to obey without any comments, while I had asked if I had to play the prostitute again. He made me repeat that I had no right to comment or to argue, I am his slave and can only do as requested, without complaints and having no sayings.

• You should be happy to play the prostitute, since you are below that level: you do the same, but you are not paid for it. He added, increasing my sensation of danger. You will fill what being a prostitute is, just in case you have forgotten you place in the world.

Later, he ordered me to wear a short miniskirt and a top tank, with high heels and we left in his car. We stopped at a bar, while I was increasingly frightened.

Without saying a word we entered the bar, where a big man on a yellow suit was sitting by the bar and waiting for us. They greeted friendly and the man looked at me with an evaluating attitude, non respectful at all.

• Good tits and ass, long legs, a good slut, indeed. He commented, while I was getting really scared.
• Well, what do you say? My master answered.
• I should test her myself…is she good?
• You bet! It is worth a try, anyway. If you like her, you may use her overnight. On the contrary, you send her back to be punished accordingly.

I was being traded without any idea of my fate, beyond the obvious fact that I was going to bed with that man.

Later, I would realize he was a pimp. I was lent to him in order to make me realize that I can be traded because I am a slave, absolutely dehumanized and I could be a prostitute if my owner wishes. Moreover, I had to realize what being a prostitute is like, quite different from being honored with servicing my Master’s friends.

After my Master left, my new pimp took me from an arm and carried me to a nearby hotel. I knew I should better do my best with him; then, when in a room, I started kissing him deeply and throbbing my breasts against his chest. He was evidently pleased. Soon, he was fucking me and, fortunately, I could make him satisfied.

I was pleased to know I was in.

It was daylight still when he told me we should take profit of the after office hour. He carried me to a corner where other three of his girls were awaiting clients. Befofe I was left there, he told me:

-        30$ for a blowjob and 50$ for a fuck. Do not spend too much time with anybody, your time is mine, understood? And I need a profit from it.

My first client was a young man, apparently a Latin, who made me suck his cock in the car. It was disgusting.

Then, a truck driver made me ride his cock on the wide seats of his big truck.

When I was coming back from working on the truck, the pimp showed calling me to his car.

-        How’s my business doing? He asked.

I felt like vomiting and, without a word, I gave him the collected money. This made me feel owned by the pimp and, in a way excited me.

-        Well as a start, little whore. I realized he had never answered my name. I believe you are too good to be on the streets. Let’s do something different.

Now, I was taken to a bar, where I was told I should try that the clients ordered drinks for them and for me. Briefly, I was a sales inducer. However, after a few drinks, I had to accept invitations to go to bed, for the usual fee, of course.

Soon, I was heading to a room with a muscular cowboy like guy who made me suck him and, fortunately, before cumming into my mouth, he fucked me doggy style. He was obviously a strong man, proud of his sexual performance, which I cannot say it was bad even under the circumstances. Anyway, my orgasm was faked, of course. I was surprised to receive a $10 tip plus my fee.

When I went back to the bar, I gave all the money to the pimp, seated by the bar. He was evidently touched by the fact that I gave him also the tip, which he gave me back.

• Honey, I want you to do a better job. You are too good to be here.

And he sent me to a large hotel downtown, where a client was requesting service. Now, I had to charge $80 for an hour, free use (but my ass, obviously my Master’s property). He was a business man. I was slowly becoming a higher level prostitute. Happily, I was in a cleaner environment, with a clean man, more respectful and in a safer place.

By the next morning, I had made three more services and clearly understood what I was when my Master returned to pick up his property. I felt tired, dirty, humiliated and sure I did not want to experience this again; I should commit myself to blind obedience.

Chapter 19        -        REMOTE CONTROL

Another way of asserting his ownership on me was sending me an invitation to attend a party with my husband. It was a commercial presentation and my husband had no reason to any suspicion; I had, though.

When we entered the ball room, I received a call on my mobile phone: he ordered me to go to the ladies’ room. Excusing myself, I did as ordered, to find he was waiting for me by the corridor heading to the rest rooms. He produced a small egg shaped gadget and ordered me to insert it into my vagina, then he left sharply. I knew something kinky was going to happen, but I had no idea of what.

Once inserted, it started to feel while walking. The sensation was like a stimulating inner massage, plus the obvious filling sensation inside a place in an unexpected moment.

Anyway, I went back to the ball room to meet my husband, occasionally talking to a couple while getting some drinks. While I was served mine, my Master showed behind the group, showing a sort of TV remote control. A few minutes later, I started feeling a vibrating sensation inside my vagina. Now, I realized my fate: I was being stimulated by my Master in the very presence of my husband.

Such stimulation started to arouse me, making me feel nervous at realizing I was getting wet and that my nipples were hardening, while I was unable to concentrate on the conversation. Fortunately, the vibration stopped before some moaning could escape my lips. I was nervous and my cheeks were red, my hands sweating under the stress. I swallowed my drink trying to relax.

A few minutes later, the vibration started again. I was being switched on an off, keeping me in a constant nervousness and arousal, longing for a release, trying to hold my building orgasm and to hide my state to my husband and others present. Meanwhile, he occasionally showed with a satisfaction smile. He was showing me he could own me even at some distance and whoever was with me.

He later approached where our group stood and worked out the way to start a conversation. Meanwhile, he had switched me on again. I could not stay still, trying to close my legs in a futile attempt to hold the vibration, only to find I was really enhancing its effect and getting even hornier. A man escaped from my lips and I found myself explaining I had beaten my lip. I felt ridiculous. Fortunately, he switched me off again.

After an eternity of tormenting me, I received another phone call. He told me I could take it off and answered if I had enjoyed the evening. It is pointless to explain the state of arousal I was feeling; I could only say I needed him. Sarcastically, he told me to enjoy my husband that night.

Later on our bedroom, I tried to give a natural end to the seduction I had been attempting on my husband. However, even when he did not do badly, it was evident I needed stronger sensations.

Chapter 20        -        BRANDED AND PUBLISHED

• You know you are my property, don’t you? He asked sharply.
• Yes, Master, I answered feeling a warm sensation inside me.
• Do you think you are of value to me?

I did not what to say, surprised at this question.

• Yes, you are, he added, softening his voice in a way that touched deep inside me.
• What is anybody supposed to do with  valued properties?

Again, I was puzzled and, evidently, he realized it.

• Valued properties are registered. He was increasingly confusing me and I bet it showed.
• Then, I have decided you should be registered as my slave.

I did not understand a single word and kept silent. Then, I knew about the existence of a slave register that was published on the Internet. Just the humiliating idea of being exposed in such a way started to turn me on: humiliation and pride usually mix tormenting my brain. However, this was dangerous if my husband or any acquaintance of mine happened to read it.

He tranquilized me showing me the site, where thousands of slaves were published, not always identified with precision. Then, there were several forms of registering me and, yet, being discreet; only somebody deliberately looking for me would find me there.

Of course, I accepted, once again, feeling proud of my enslavement.

Nevertheless, everybody should know how to identify you in case you are lost, abducted or if you escape from me. Again I was puzzled but eager to hear more.

• I would not like to publish a photo where your face is shown; then, we should find the way to identify you. And the best way is to identify the owner of the slave in  question: I want to brand you.
• What do you mean, Master?
• If you were not married, you would be branded like cattle, he said making me quiver in fear. But it is not the case. Then, I believe that you will be tattooed. It will be discreet and I am sure you will be able to convince your husband it was just a whim.

The next day, I was tattooed with a small image of the head of a black panther on my left breast, close to my heart.

And later, my profile was uploaded at the slave register, describing me as a slave slut with the appearance of a lady, good fucker and sucker, that (not who) and describing my branding tattoo. Moreover, there are pictures showing me kneeling, naked, with my head bowed to shade my face, and a close view of my branding.

Anybody who eventually found me off my Master’s control should let him know and would be rewarded with using me during a whole weekend.

Of course, I found the way to avoid my husband’s suspicions, even when he did not like my tattoo at the first moment. But as usual, he did not care too much.

But the important fact was that I knew I was branded and that I could eventually be identified and chased as an escaping slave, subject to punishment. My slavery was public to a certain grade, now.

Chapter 21        -        CHALLENGED TO ESCAPE

Having reached such a state of belonging and having proved I was happy with my submission to my Master, I was offered to be released, given back all pictures, videos and letters assessing my willingness to be a slave.

This offer was made at his dungeon. He told me that all compromising material was in a box he showed me and left the door open. I could take that and leave forever and be free. Of course, he would erase my profile from the slave register.

Alternatively, I should take off my clothes and cuff my wrists to a post, facing it and waiting for him to be back to whip me, assessing his ownership on my being.

Having explained this, he left. I could not believe what was happening. But my decision had been taken long ago and I had no reason to back. I took off my clothes and walked to the post, where I closed the cuffs around my wrists, becoming unable to change my decision.

Time passed and it was late to realize that I was keeping almost on tiptoes, getting tired from that effort. Relaxing my feet made the metal bite my wrists; then, I kept changing position, always in discomfort, until he came back.

He was happy to find me still as his slave. But the way he decided to greet me was harder than usual. I had finally become an inescapable slave.