by: Ms. Finch
I met my Mistress three months ago, when I answered an ad in a local singles magazine. For each weekend of the last two months, I have been her slave, wearing what she instructed me to, and doing exactly as she has ordered at all times. I have prepared her meals, cleaned her clothes (her “dainties” by hand), kept her house, groomed her body, and, of course, serviced her orally whenever she ordered me to, which was very often.
I have also served as maid when Mistress has had her girlfriends over for a poker game. Wearing just an apron and high heels, I had to cater to them the whole evening, and service them one at a time under the table. Of course, my Mistress saw to it that I was kept sexually sated as well; I had to amuse her by jerking off at least three times every day (she made me lick up the come, though I hated the taste), and she had even bent me over and fucked me with a slim strap on dildo that she had bought. rn
Since I had never been more satisfied in my life, I thought nothing unusual about her idea of using my accumulated vacation for an extended slavery period of one month, up at a condo she owned in Seattle. Without any fuss, I made the arrangements for the time off, and used my own frequent-flyer miles to buy the plane tickets. We arrived at her condo at 9:00 am, and she led me inside.
Mistress’ first words on arrival weren’t unexpected. At her command to “strip slave,” I removed my clothes, and stood in front of her as she put the handcuffs on me, my hands locked in front of my body. Mistress then bent down to put on leg shackles as well, something that she had only done once before. The leg shackles left me only about twelve inches of chain, so that I could only shuffle.
Mistress then took out something that she had never used on me before, a cock-n-balls harness and leash. Once that was put on, she tugged the leash and saw me wince, saying “now slave, you remember how the trick locks on these toys work, release yourself!” I reached down, and gave the lock of the handcuffs the sharp rap that always released them before. Nothing happened. I tried again–no results. I looked up at her in surprise. “That’s right, these are REAL handcuffs, and real leg cuffs too.” She turned around and pulled the leash, leaving me no choice but to shuffle along behind her.
Mistress led me to the bathroom, and into the shower stall, and had me raise my hands above my head, so that she could hook the handcuffs over my head to a chain that dangled from the ceiling. Mistress then put a gag in front of my mouth, a bigger ball gag than she had ever used on me before, and thrust it inside. It hurt my jaws, but she just strapped it around my head.
“Slave,” she said, “I have a surprise for you. This month, you will not just play my slave, you will be my slave. Today’s duties will convince you of that!” She took a can of hair removing spray and brought it up in front of my eyes so that I could see it. She sprayed it all over my body, including my pubic region. “I’m going to leave you hanging here for a few minutes to give this stuff time to work while I put your clothes in the lock-box in the garage. Don’t worry, slave, I will provide your wardrobe this month.
When Mistress came back ten minutes later, my arms were almost totally numb, and my skin felt like it was on fire from the depilatory. Smiling sweetly, Mistress turned on the shower, ice cold, then hot, then cold. My body hair went down the drain with the foam, and I stood there, bare-skinned, and shivering before her. Her laughter had a tone to it that I had never heard there before. “Oh slave, I’ve had this planned from the day I placed that ad. I’ve got things planned for you that you just won’t believe, even when they are happening to you!”
Releasing the overhead chain, Mistress led me to a make-up table, where she attached the handcuffs to the ankle cuffs via a short chain…if I were to try and walk, I’d have had to walk stooped over, but I could sit comfortably, as I was told to do, on a stool in front of the mirror. Mistress took a pair of tweezers then and approached my eyebrows.
When I pulled my head away, worried about being unable to explain plucked eyebrows after my vacation, I got my first lesson from my “new” Mistress. Stepping on the ankle chain holding me to the stool, Mistress was sharply pulling up on the cock leash. The pain shot through me, and my eyes flew open wide.
“Don’t move from me again slave,” Mistress warned me, “or I’ll hang you up by this leash!” I could see by her eyes that she meant it, and I sat very still. When Mistress finally let me look in the mirror, I saw that she had tweezed my eyebrows into a feminine shape, a high arch above each eye. I was beginning to see why she said I would not need my clothes this month, and why she had been so pleased that I was a rather small man when we met. While I had been looking in the mirror, she had been busy, and I felt a sting as she pierced first my left ear, then the right, and I saw the large hoop earrings dangling from my earlobes.
I knew by then that I was in trouble. My clothes and money and identification were locked away, and I had told everyone that I knew that I would be out of touch for the month. Mistress could do anything to me, and no one would know me here, or believe me if I told them. I really knew I was in trouble when Mistress took some pictures of me in my predicament, and showed me the humiliating letters she’d addressed to my family and friends, I knew I would not try to escape, even if I could. So, I sat meekly, while Mistress began to work on my hair with a curling iron. Now I realized why she’d been so insistent that I grow my hair out.
Finally, Mistress made me up. All of the makeup was long-wearing, and transfer resistant. From foundation, to blush, to eye-liner, to eye-shadow, Mistress gave me the full treatment. The lipstick was particularly long-wearing, Mistress told me, more of a dye than a wax, which would wear off, perhaps, in a week or so. It was an incredibly vivid red.
Once made up, I was dressed in a maid’s outfit, corset and all, and Mistress gave me a raincoat to throw on top, tucking the cock leash into an inside pocket of the skirts. I didn’t think to resist when Mistress bade me follow her to the car, but as I walked past a full-length mirror, I was in shock. The image was of a cute little French maid, whose lips were an invitation to mayhem. That maid was myself. We had been in Seattle for all of six hours.
Mistress drove me to the side door of a very fancy looking building, and, once we were inside, the leash came back out and she led me into a small room, where she had me lay over a thing which looked like a high padded piano bench. My hands were chained at the front, my feet were fastened to the back, and only then did she remove the cock harness, fastening a band around my balls that connected to a lever on the side of the bench. When I looked up, she smiled, and taking the handle, gave it a half turn. The pain as the band pulled my balls back shot through my legs, and I nearly passed out. I understood the message.
Mistress pulled my head back by the hair. “Do you remember when we first met? “I nodded. “Do you remember how careful I was to make sure that you were completely heterosexual, having never even touched a man?” I nodded. “Well, I’ve had this set up for months now, with this in mind.” This, my dear, is the real domination that give me my thrills.
The bench I’d been attached to had wheels, and while Mistress was talking, others must have entered the room behind me, for I felt myself being wheeled forward towards another room. When the door opened, I was puzzled. It was the men’s room. They moved my bench to one side of the room. rn
That was when Mistress dropped the bomb on me. “Well slave, I bet you’re wondering why you’re here,” Mistress began. “The men at this club are very picky. They insist on untouched slaves who actually are revolted at the thought of homosexuality. They get their jollies off of the real humiliation that comes with real rape, and, you lucky thing, you’re the guest star. So, get used to this position slave, I’ve contracted you out for four hours a day, at peak use periods-for two months! I sent in your resignation to your company in your name!”
In a minute the doors swung open and I watched a man walk over to a urinal and start to empty his bladder. He turned around, and, with the last drop of urine still on the tip of his cock, came over and moved in front of my face, his hand on that lever on the side of the table. “Welcome to the Club slave,” he said, “I’m sure we’ll enjoy your company more than you’ll enjoy ours!” He moved his cock forward, and, when I didn’t move quickly enough to open my mouth, he twisted the lever a bit. Call me a coward, but unless you’ve had your nuts nearly torn off, I’m not going to give your criticism much thought. The pain on my nuts was simply intolerable, and so I moved my head forward and, closing my eyes, took his cock into my mouth.
The residue of his piss was sour on my tongue, as his cock grew and grew. I heard the hum of a video camera and looked over to see my mistress filming the whole thing. Her laughter was harsh in my ears. As the next several men came in, Mistress took numerous still photos, and, while fingering herself, slid them into the letters she’d written to my family and my employers.
“Oh, slave, she moaned, I’m going to cum every time I mail one of these letters off, and every time I get a check for this videotape. God, you men are such suckers. I already have guys writing in response to that same ad you answered, only three months ago! Your replacement here is probably already among them! Oh, and this is really hilarious, slave. One of them was your brother!”
