He walks over to the bed and gazes at her sleeping so peacefully. He has plans for her tonight that she has shared with others but not with Him, well tonight that will all change. He rips the covers off her and grabs her by the hair taking her into the bathroom. She is still half a sleep but she struggles as He pulls her along. She half steps and stumbles into the tub as He pushes her down to her knees. Before she can react He orders he to pull His shorts down as she does He tells her that tonight she will do things His way and that weather she likes it or not she will obey immediately. To extenuate His point the lets go a stream of urine onto her lovely breasts. Now clean up and before you come to Me put on the restraints I have so thoughtfully laid out for you. As she bends down to turn on the water, He swats her beautiful ass.
She is shaking as she is getting cleaned up wondering what in the hell just happened but knows better that to ask. She quickly cleans up and gets out of the shower. She notices her restraints on the counter along with a sheer nighty, is she supposed to put that on also, no He did not tell her to but it is sitting there. She puts on her restraints and walks into the bedroom.
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Sheila fretted on her Master’s bed. She lay face down into the pillow, her wrists cuffed to her ankles. Her bared bottom was high in the air making her vulnerability and shame complete.
She had been in this position many times before awaiting her Master’s pleasure. But tonight was very different as she had angered her Master like never before. She had gone too far tonight and His face had been purple with rage. One look from Him had her hurrying home from the party in some distress.
The night had began well enough with Master taking her along to meet His many friends, the majority being Masters like Himself accompanied by their slaves. It was Sheila’s first party and she was determined to make Him proud of her and also to have a good time. She dressed very carefully in her black leather mini skirt and matching halter-top. She wore thigh high leather boots and wore her favourite gold Celtic jewelry, which Master had given to her when He had collared her and made her His slave. Her full lips she coloured fuchsia pink to match her nails. There was one thing missing, but Master came in and adorned her neck with His collar. She was complete. He smiled at her and she her eyes shone, as she knew He was pleased with her appearance.
The place looks to be over a century old, shrouded in a cluster of large oak trees. Threatening dark clouds and thunder signal that another rainstorm is going to hit, so you quickly make your way up the long gravel road to the front porch. A knock on the door reveals that there is no one home. The windows are boarded up; the roof and sides of the house are riddled with neglect.
Rain begins to fall. You circle around to the back and find the entrance to a cellar. A rush of warm air strikes your face as you pull the storm doors open and quickly descend the stairs. Squinting in the darkness, you fumble with your pockets for the matches. You almost jump as a large rat scurries across the floor and disappears into another room. Outside, the heavy rain is pounding the earth, but you feel little comfort in your refuge.
Using one match, you slowly venture forth to the opposite end of the room to try the light switch. Nothing. There is a small white candle sitting on a dusty shelf, so you light it. The cellar looks to be completely empty. You wander through, what seems like an endless maze of rooms, when something catches your eye. Carved into the very foundation is a doorway that doesn’t seem to fit with the rest of the house. You approach it, holding the candle in front of you, and peer into the small passage. There is a steep, narrow stairway that spirals downward and out of sight. The ancient stone masonry gives you the impression that this was here long before the house was even built. Throwing caution to the wind, you decide to investigate and slowly descend the stairs.
He had decided he wanted her, already knowing her for the slave she is, he called her office to set up a lunch meeting with her. Totally unaware of what he had planned for her, she agreed to the meeting. As she entered the restaurant, his eyes gleamed as he took her in, her thoughts on work, she smiled, as always respectful, ever the submissive she waits for him to order for them. His only thought is to get her out of there. While she excuses herself for the restroom, he then slips a sedative into her drink. She returns, they eat, drink and discuss his business ideas. But, he watches her knowing he has to get her out of the restaurant before the sedative starts working. He then starts to move things along, finishing, paying the check and steering her to the door. Feeling lightheaded and odd, she moves with him, as they approach the cars in the parking lot, her eyes roll back and she falls unconscious, his arms catching her deftly and with a smirk on his face. He sets her in the car and drives away.
Hours later, she awakens, she attempts to move, only to find herself chained. Her wrists crossed over her head to a ring in the ceiling, legs spread wide each ankle chained to rings on the floor. Her eyes widen as the cool air hits her naked flesh. Still groggy, and trying to focus she starts to panic, her eyes moving around the room, till they stop on him, sitting across the room from her, as if he had been watching her. He rises and slowly moves toward her the whip dangling from his hand. “Do you know where you are slut?” With a shake of her head she says softly “no.” He laughs then, a deep-throated laugh, as he reaches her his hand raises the whip, it’s five blades caressing her flesh. With a flick of his wrist it snaps with a CRACK against her bare breasts. She jumps in her chains her eyes wide, nipples suddenly erect, as a red welt rises on those soft mounds.
It had been a long week. I was looking forward to the weekend as I headed home on Friday night. We would usually go out for a meal and a drink after work on a Friday and I was heading home to take a shower and get dressed for our evening.
He was already home when I got there. I would normally meet him in town so it was a little unusual to see his car in the garage. I walked inside, called out to him, and went into the bathroom to turn the shower on. When I came back into the lounge I realised that, depending on the decision I made in the next few minutes, we wouldn’t be going out that night, or maybe for the whole weekend. Lying on the coffee table was my collar, and if I picked it up, it would mean I was his slave until he took it off me.
When the collar is out it means that I am to be used as his slut, his playground, and a body for his pleasure. Either of us can bring the collar out, but he is the only one who can take the collar off once I have it on. Sometimes he will use me for a couple of hours and at other times he will keep me as his slave for a couple of days. He is a good master of the collar and I experience great pleasure when I am his slut.
Raven opened her eyes as the pain ripped through her body. It was dim and cool where she was and smelled a bit moldy as if she was underground. Her eyes strained to adjust to the limited light. Her head was throbbing and she could feel a welt on the back of her head near her neck. She tried desperately to remember something, anything. The last thing she could remember was laughing and talking to the charming gentleman at the bar. She excused herself to go to the bathroom….then just darkness. She tried to reach her hand up to her pounding temple but as she did so she realized she couldn’t move her hands. They were tied securely behind her back. For a moment she panicked, then calmed as she understood she needed a clear mind to figure out what was going on. By now her eyes had become adjusted and she was able to make out some shapes in the room. Becoming more aware of her body, she now knew that not only her hands were tied, but also her ankles. The same length of rope was tying all parts of her body. There was a loop around her neck that ran down her back and wrapped around her hands, from there the rope went around her waist and then down her legs to wrap around her ankles. If she tried to move one part of her body, another would feel the pain of her efforts. She was laying on her side and most of her skin was exposed. Apparently her captor had decided to leave her bra and underwear on, the rest of her clothes were gone.
In any era, having land and money grants privileges. Here, in a hidden oasis, the rich play their games, and they are not the games the common folk play. If you are rich enough, you may purchase young females – quite against their will, of course – and do with them as you wish. If that includes turning them into ponygirls, forcing them to race against each other like horses, and to pull their Masters around in carts, just as real horses do, then so be it.
More than the indignity of being turned into ponies, there is the bite of tight cords and the kiss of the whip upon bare flesh to constantly remind them of their status, and to encourage them to run their fastest. Terrible and painful are the punishments handed out by harsh Masters, to those who falter or fail.
There was silence so thick you could hear your own heart beatincuffsg. Then a swishing sound, but only for a split second. Then pain exploded in my ass — terrible pain, shocking, burning pain. I jerked hard and lost my balance and was suddenly hanging there, my feet dancing in mid-air, desperately seeking the chair as I gasped and made strange croaking sounds.
My feet found the chair and pushed up to relieve the terrible pressure on my neck. The noose loosened, for which I was grateful as I sucked in that wonderful air. I had feared when the noose had been pulled down snug around my neck that perhaps it would not loosen when my life depended upon it. But it did, and I was again standing on that wooden chair in the hot, dusty attic. My ass was still burning but that minor point had been forgotten in the struggle to get back on the chair.