Katherine Blackman is bored. She stumbles across the world of online BDSM and dives in enthusiastically without thinking of the consequences. In the same cyber world slave trainer Master M needs a new challenge. He decides to see if he can take a mature, worldly, intelligent woman with no BDSM experience and transform her into the perfect sex slave. He spots his ideal victim and begins his preparation.
Master M turned back to Kitty, pulled the chair closer to the counter, sat down and stretched his feet out in front of him. He looked at her for a long time without speaking, sipping from a can of beer as he scrutinised his victim. Finally he spoke.
‘You’ve got a nice place here, Kitty, perfect for your training. I wonder if you chose it so that no one could hear you scream? After all, you did advertise yourself as an experienced slave, didn’t you?’
Kitty eyes, already lowered, closed and she swore silently, impotently, at herself for her stupid naivety.
‘Not quite true, huh, slut? Whilst you were having a little sleep this afternoon I had a look at the history on your computer. It seems you’ve been aware of BDSM for, oh, a whole four days now. I was impressed that you managed to follow most of my orders over the weekend though; it shows you have the aptitude and desire to comply. But before that, wow, 10 hours continually surfing the most hardcore perverted porn you could find. How many times did you come, Kitty? From the stench on that towel on your chair,your cunt must have been working overtime.’
Kitty could feel herself blush with shame at having her uninhibited lust described so crudely. Yet his words vividly brought back the perverted images that had excited her so much. She suddenly realised that she would not now look out of place on the computer screen, naked, tied and gagged. Her body reacted to her thoughts and she could feel the moisture seeping out of crotch.
It wasn’t just the words he was using that aroused her, but his voice as well; it was low, melodic and the accent verged on being aristocratic without being pompous. She pressed her pubic bone into the worktop imperceptibly to intensify the feeling of pleasure. He noticed, of course.
‘Oh, are you getting turned on, Kitty?’ he asked mildly. ‘Sluts like you are always ready to cum aren’t you? And just to make things clear on the language front, you have a cunt—not a ‘pussy’ or ‘vagina’ or any other twee de***********ion—tits and an arse and I have a cock and you will learn to beg to even look at it —understand?’
Kitty nodded, ‘’es ‘Aster.’ Her face was now flaming and her cunt throbbing so hard she would not have been surprised if he could hear it.
‘You’ll have to wait a little while, I’m afraid. Unlike most Masters I encourage frequent orgasms as a mark of obedience. However, we need to chat a little longer before I will allow you to climax.’ He took another long pull on the beer can and was silent until he saw the colour in Kitty’s face fade.
‘As a slave you aren’t, strictly speaking, entitled to any information about your fate, but seeing as you are supposed to be a smart bitch, but quite obviously are a complete novice, I’ve decided to educate you a little.’ He laughed softly. ‘I have to tell you, Kitty, you should have spent a bit more time reading the boring stuff rather than wanking. You might not be in so much
trouble if you had learned even the basics. As it is you made every fucking mistake in the book; giving your real name and area in your emails were hilarious! Well, I just had to see if you were for real.’
He pulled a small disc machine from his jeans and touched a button.
Kitty heard his voice then her own.
‘S.S.C.’
‘Have you heard of it?’
‘No, sorry.’
‘Thanks, but as I said there’s no S.S.C. here.’
Kitty went cold and her arousal died. He was the motorbike courier.
‘I have to tell you, I was very glad of that helmet otherwise you would have seen me laughing! For your information, kitty, S.S.C. stands for ‘safe, sane and consensual’ and is the mantra of all BDSM aficionados. I’m sure you can work out the meaning. Me? I don’t bother with rules. I make my own. Seeing as you hadn’t heard of S.S.C. I was pretty sure that you’d not set up a safe call. That’s why we drove you around as you woke up; I wanted to check if anyone would ring your mobile or check your house. Bingo! You told no one, and no one knows your dirty little kinky secrets, do they?’
He picked up a long whippy cane from the floor and brought it down on her back. The blow wasn’t hard but it shocked her and made her whole body jerk. He ran the cane down to her hands and up to the top of her head where he bounced it playfully a couple of times. Kitty hated that; he was mocking her and she felt incredibly stupid. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and blinked them back, desperate not to give him the satisfaction. He looked at her for a long moment.
‘Now, back to business, whore. You fucked up, which is very bad news for you, but very, very good news for me.’
His voice was now devoid of its chatty tone and he leaned forward, fixing his piercing eyes on her.
‘As I mentioned, I was in the Army. When I left, I moved into the security industry; protection, espionage, a bit of exotic entertainment. Interesting work, interesting people and good money. I soon discovered that there was a market for real life slavery. There are a lot of rich people out there who regard having their own slave or two as the ultimate status symbol— forgot yachts and private islands. So I set up a sideline business procuring, training and selling slaves as play toys. Rich men, and a few women, will pay any price for a tart who is both trained and pathetically eager to take
whatever perversion is required of them and then beg for more. Some only get used once – the snuff market is a very lucrative one.’ He shrugged, ‘Once I’ve delivered the goods, it’s up to the owner what they do with it.’
Kitty couldn’t
believe what she was hearing but her panic rose again and she began her futile struggle once more.
‘I see you’re starting to get the picture. Well, you will have plenty of time to get used to the idea.’ He brought the cane down on her back again, harder this time, and she squealed in true pain through the gag.
‘Shut up,’ he said coldly.
She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and began to sob. When he spoke, his voice was gentle but his words were not,
‘Don’t cry, Kitty. It makes you look unattractive and doesn’t change a thing.’
He continued, his voice back to its conversational tone. ‘Generally, I take younger sluts who’ve had a bit of experience playing at being slaves or submissives and at least know how to address me properly, unlike you. Of course, there’s a bit of resistance when they finally realise it’s not a game and that they are being sold as real human toys, but a lot of them are pretty screwed up to start with so are incredibly suggestible. When they send a message to Mummy and Daddy that they’re off to work in Saudi Arabia for some rich sheikh, they get waved off with a huge sigh of relief.’
He sighed and sat back in his chair again.
‘All very easy and to be honest, rather boring. So I decided to up the stakes a bit and see if I could take an educated, worldly, vanilla woman and turn her into the perfect slave. Not just able to withstand extreme pain, torture, humiliation and total debasement but to enjoy it and desire it. Not just a toy to be abused, fucked and put away again but someone who can serve totally. She will be able to produce exquisite meals, converse intelligently on a range of subjects in several languages, accompany her owner as an attractive concubine, and be coveted by his contemporaries. I’m sure you are aware of the power of the corporate gift, Kitty. Believe me when I tell you that offering a business contact a night or a week’s use of your personal whore
to abuse as he wishes is pretty much irresistible.’
His voice faded as he was lost in thought for a moment. He snapped back to the present.
‘So, Kitty, that is the challenge I offered and the one you unwittingly took up. You will either succeed, in which case you will make me very rich, or you will fail, which will present us both with a problem. However let’s be positive. I haven’t failed yet, and I don’t intend to start now. Your initial training will be here and will consist of body modification, sexual service in all possible perversions, regular, intense punishment and discipline sessions, and etiquette training. The length of this training will be up to you; the quicker you learn to be completely submissive no matter what, the quicker you will graduate to the next level. You should be aware however that no matter what stage of training you are at, you will be beaten and tortured at least daily when I am around, purely for my pleasure and nothing more. All work and no play makes a Master bored!’
He grinned at Kitty—a mirthless grin that made her bowels contract in pure fear. If she could have shrunk back from those pitiless eyes, she would have done but she could not move.
‘A couple of final points you need to know before we finish up for tonight. As a slave you have nothing, nada, zip. You have to earn every privilege. You will beg permission for even the simplest everyday acts you currently take for granted. Sitting on the furniture, wearing clothes, eating when you feel like it are all forbidden. If you wish to speak, move, piss or shit you will ask permission and wait quietly while it’s considered. It may not be granted and you will accept refusal with the same grace as consent. The floor is your place, I do not want to see you on anything other than all fours unless expressly ordered. Water will be freely available but you are not allowed to use your hands to drink. If cats can manage without hands so can you, Kitty. If you are in any doubt about anything, then don’t do it. I, and Maisie in my absence, will be responsible for your hygiene, diet and health. However if there is something wrong with you, and you do not bring it to our attention immediately, you will be punished severely. You should take comfort in the fact that a live, healthy slave is a valuable slave, so you will not be allowed to die or be permanently disfigured or disabled.’
He paused, ‘There is school of thought that believes slaves should never be heard and,’ he gave her a truly evil grin, ‘the vocal cords are therefore surgically removed. Whilst this can increase the value it limits the market and besides, I rather enjoy hearing a slave’s pain.’ He stood up and moved close to Kitty. ‘Do you believe me, Kitty?’ He said softly, gently stroking the back of her neck.
Kitty was in deep shock; for a few moments, she was mute with disbelief. He kept touching her, standing so close she could smell his masculinity; clean soap, the leather of his belt, and the beer on his breath as he bent over, inches from her head.
‘Well, Kitty......do you believe me?’
‘’es ‘Aster,’ she replied, her voice so weak that he had to bend close to her. ‘Good girl.’ He continued to stroke her until he could feel the tension in her body subside. His touch became firmer and moved down her naked form until he was caressing her buttocks. He drew his fingernails down her back, slowly and lightly at first but then with increasing pressure until he left faint red tracks. He smiled as he heard her muffled groan and felt her hips rise up to encourage him to continue with his petting. He dipped his fingers between her buttocks and found that she was soaking wet. His words had had the result he expected. He slipped three fingers inside her and used his thumb to press gently on her anus until it opened, already lubricated from the juices that had bubbled out of her sex. From practice he quickly found the magic spot on the front wall of her vagina and pressed it firmly.
‘Cum for me, Kitty,’ he said, ‘Cum. Now.’ He felt her body grip his fingers and thumb and then the rhythmic pulses as the orgasms rocked her body again and again. He gave her a few seconds to catch her breath, then repeated the well-practiced technique. This time her reaction was even stronger as her body hit the peak before the last climax had died. She spasmed; her spine went rigid and her shoulders lifted off the counter as much as they could.
As Kitty’s body finally relaxed the man quietly said to her, ‘You see Kitty, I own your body now and if you please me you will be rewarded with more pleasure that you thought possible.’
‘ ‘ank ‘ou, ‘Aster,’ she breathed, the pulses still coursing around her bloodstream. He withdrew his fingers and wiped them on her firstly on her face, then in her gaping, panting mouth and finally on her tangled hair.
Again his tone changed and became brisk.
‘Now, let’s get you to bed; you’ve got a long day of training ahead of you.’
He quickly unbuckled the belt that held her to the counter and slid his arms under Kitty’s hips and chest and lifted her up as though she was an awkward parcel. Rather than taking her through the living room to the stairs though, he turned around and carried her across the kitchen to the rear of the house. Stopping, he pulled open the door to the storeroom, clicked on the overhead light and stepped down the two steps. Kitty blinked. The room, whilst not fully underground, was similar to a cellar in that it had no windows and only one entrance—a heavy old oak door that had been salvaged from a house much older than the cottage. ‘A period feature’ the estate agent called it. Kitty hadn’t been sure what to do with the space; it was large but too dark and damp to be a useable room. Eventually the builder suggested that the walls be rough rendered and the dirt floor covered in concrete so that, when she made up her mind, the basic work would have been done. There was a
cold-water tap and one corner of the floor was unconcreted to allow access to the manhole cover for the new drainage system. Since moving in, Kitty had thrown all the redundant cardboard packing boxes into it, fully intending to break them down and take them to the recycling centre at some stage. Someone had beaten her to it; all the boxes had been flattened and placed in a neat pile.
It was on top of this that Master M placed her, face down but with her head to the side so she could survey the room. She looked around; not only had the boxes been tidied but several other changes had taken place.
‘As you can see, Kitty, whilst I was checking out your computer, Maisie was busy down here. Look up at the far corner.’ Kitty craned her neck up and saw the camera peering down at her.
‘It has an infrared light so I can watch you at all times. It also has a very sensitive microphone, so please don’t make any noise during the night—I get very grumpy if my sleep is disturbed.’
Her eyes moved to a large, new cabinet fixed to the wall—it was a metre wide and at least three metres high, with bars rather than a solid door. Kitty could see a number of hooks, some of which were occupied by whips—long, short, multi-tail and a wicked looking bullwhip. Under the cabinet sat a large wooden chest with a solid new padlock. Kitty didn’t want to think about what that contained.
With his back to her, Master M undid the chest, extracted some articles that clinked against each other and then relocked the padlock. Turning back to her, she could see he had five metal rings—four the same size, one slightly larger—and a couple of lengths of chain. He moved back to where Kitty lay, trembling from fear and cold. She recognised the collar from the websites she had so eagerly visited a few days before—it was about 6 cm wide, made of brushed steel and lined with red velvet and had four equidistant D rings. He took a slim Allen key from his jeans, opened the collar with it and then placed the collar gently around Kitty’s neck. It was a perfect fit. He locked it. then stood back and said in an satisfied voice,
‘Suits you, Kitty. It could have been made just for you.’
Two smaller shackles were locked around each ankle and attached together with a small length of chain. He undid the rope that connected her arms to her feet and reattached it to the leg shackles to keep her in the same position before removing the ankle rope. He coiled it carefully and placed it to one side. He stopped for a moment as if struck by an idea.
‘Kitty, are you thirsty?’
Kitty nodded, her throat was completely dry and she was both hungry and desperate for something to drink. He went to the kitchen and returned with a large glass of water.
‘Now don’t let yourself down by making a noise. Otherwise, you’ll be gagged for the rest of the night, understand?’ Kitty nodded as best she could, her eyes fixed on the water. He reached behind her, unbuckled the gag and let it fall. Licking her lips, Kitty gulped.
‘Thank You Master,’ she whispered. Holding her head carefully, he lifted the glass to her mouth and she glugged the wonderfully cold water down as quickly as she could.
‘Another?’ he said.
‘Yes please, Master.’
‘’No problem,’ and he fetched a refill, closing the solid door carefully behind him.
Kitty felt relief at his kindness as she drained the second glass. He saw the gratitude in her eyes and returned her smile.
‘Master?’
‘Yes, Kitty?’
‘Master, please may I go to the toilet?’
‘A rule for you; you may only refer to yourself as ‘this slave’ or ‘it’—no more I. Understood?’
‘Yes, Master. May this slave please go to the toilet?’
‘No.’ There was a pause. ‘What do you say, Kitty?’
‘Thank You Master.’ Her voice caught in her throat in despair as she croaked her reply. Her face crumpled and she started weeping copiously as she saw through the apparent kindness to the cruel reality. He squatted down on his haunches to watch her, an amused smile on his face. He reached out and ran his thumb and forefinger down the outside of her nose, forcing two bubbles of snot from her nostrils which he smeared across her face to join the cum and the vomit already stuck there. Straightening up, he picked up the whippy cane that he brought in with him at the same time as the water. Without warning he slashed it once, twice, three times against the upturned soles of her feet. Kitty screamed in sheer agony. Quickly, he untied the rope between her legs and arms, removed the rope from her arms, flipped her on her back, shackled her wrists together and joined them to one of the D rings on her collar. He knew that the unbearable aching in her shoulders and hips from the change in tension would collide with the burning on her feet and that her entire body would be awash with pain.
Looking down at her face, red and contorted in torment, he felt nothing other than pleasure and lust. He unzipped his jeans and pulled his erect cock out. ‘Open your eyes,’ he commanded, stroking himself swiftly, his orgasm almost on him. When she failed to obey he kicked her in the ribs and roared, ‘Open your fucking eyes, whore!’ As she prised her eyelids apart, he came on her face, into her mouth, on her hair and into one eye. ‘Not bad,’ he thought as he tucked his cock back into his jeans and zipped up. ‘That’ll sting,’ he said—quite unnecessarily—as she tried to wipe her eye and failed. He leaned across her, clipped a short length of chain to the collar and then to a newly fixed heavy ring on the wall. Picking up a blanket he’d found in the spare bedroom he threw it over her.
‘Good night, Kitty. Sleep well.’ He said, and left the room, turning off the light and locking the door behind him. The only light left was the faint glow from the camera.