My Husband, My Slave by senorlongo

Rating: 92%, Read 115388 times, Posted Jan 09, 2015

Fiction | BDSM, Consensual Sex, Cum Swallowing, Domination, Female, Oral Sex, Slavery, Submission, Torture

Sophie is a high powered executive who makes decisions that impact the lives of her staff and community every day. When her husband, John, has some problems she does what comes naturally, deciding what is best for both of them. This is a four-part story.

INTRODUCTION

I think it would be best if I begin at the beginning—back before all this happened--with an introduction of who we are and why I’m telling this story. I’m Sophie—actually Sophia, but I’ve always thought that was much too formal and much too old fashioned. I was, after all, named for my maternal grandmother, I suspect because she was really loaded. She’d inherited millions from my grandfather who was invested heavily in real estate and railroads back when railroads were king. I’m now 34 years old, 5’9” tall, and weigh only two pounds more than when I graduated college—127 pounds. I’m tall and slender with shoulder length brown hair and hazel eyes, measuring 34B, 25, 34, and I stay in good shape by either using our company gym or working out at home. I’m an extremely successful executive—a senior vice president--with an international corporation that specializes in developing commercial and industrial real estate even though I don’t need the money. I now own all my grandfather’s investments—millions and millions in blue chip stocks and bonds.

I’m now thrilled to be very happily married to John Masters, 36, an even six feet, and 160 pounds although I wasn’t always. John had created more problems with his insane juvenile and utterly irresponsible behavior than I could count. He worked for one of our competitors as a mediocre account executive. John hated his job and his boss even more. Now that you have the background I can continue with my story of how I worked to turn my immature and sexually selfish husband into my excellent slave and loyal dedicated companion. It all began about a month after my thirtieth birthday.

CHAPTER 1

I had just brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. I turned to kiss my husband John good-night and fell to the pillow, my back facing John as it did every night. It wasn’t long before I felt his hard cock sticking between my ass cheeks, my nightgown pushed up over my hips.

John’s hand reached around my body, coming under my breast. “Whaddya say, Sophie? I’m really randy tonight.”

“I just showered, John. If we make love I’ll leak all night and you know how much I hate that.”

“C’mon, baby my balls are aching.”

“Why don’t you just jerk it? That’ll take the edge off. You can do it right here; I won’t mind. Wipe up with a hankie like you usually do.” I lifted John’s hand from my body and returned my head to the pillow.

“Geez, Sophie—I really need it; please!”

I lay there for a few minutes before rolling over. “I’ll do it, but you have to agree to clean me up after.”

“No problem…it won’t take me but a minute to run into the bathroom for a nice warm washcloth. I’ll wipe you down good.”

“No, John—you don’t understand. No washcloth can reach inside of me. You’ll have to use your tongue and I’ll expect you to scoop every last drop out of my puss.”

“Sophie, that’s disgusting.”

“Is it? Wouldn’t you just love it if I swallowed? Why should I do something that you refuse to do?”

“But….”

“There are no ‘buts,’ John. If you want it badly enough it won’t be an issue. Either way is okay with me.” I rolled over again, a wry smile on my unseen face. It was almost five minutes later that I heard John sigh.

“Oh…okay.”

“Fine, lie on your back; I’ll take the top.” It was a position I’d find myself in more and more often from now on. Damn! I should have thought of this a long time ago. I rose up to straddle John’s hard cock and a minute later it was seated within my core. I’d say “deep” but there were inches in there he’d never touch. Reaching back I could feel how full his balls were. This was going to be even more fun than I would have dreamed possible. Massaging his sac I began to rock and grind my clit into John’s abdomen. John met every movement with a strong one of his own. I knew he’d cum quickly.

John had never been a great lover. His cock was a bit too small for my liking even though I knew I was tight. I had lived with that for six years—our entire married life, but a bigger problem was John’s tendency for premature ejaculation. It was rare that John could last more than three minutes only to leave me frustrated every time. After sex—it surely didn’t meet my definition of “making love”—he’d fall deeply asleep in minutes while I fingered my clit furiously to reach the orgasm he had denied me.

Sure enough, John came suddenly and without warning. I could feel him gush into me and I helped him empty those swollen balls with my persistent massage. Without waiting I moved forward quickly. “Don’t even think of going back on your promise. If you do it might be months before we have sex again.” Looking down in the dim light I could see the defeat in his face. Moving quickly, my thighs locked against his head. “You’d better get started and while you’re there you might think of giving me an orgasm, too.”

John was tentative, but that was to be expected. It was a cold day in hell that he ever gave my needs any consideration. In spite of all the sexual problems I did love John and I’d love him even more in the coming months once I’d put all my plans into effect. I squatted down to bring my cunt lips into contact with his mouth. I could feel his tongue touch and lick my labia first then force its way deep into me. After about five minutes it was so good I could feel the eruption coming. His cock had warmed me up. Now his tongue would finish the job. “Don’t you dare stop, John--I’m almost there…almost there…OOOOOH…AHHHHH!” I could feel my ejaculate soak my crotch. “Keep going, John; you’ve done a good job so far now you just have to lick me clean. This is all my juice; I think you’ve taken care of all of yours.” I rolled off a few minutes later, feeling better about my life than I had in a long time.

I was just about to fall asleep three nights later when John made advances again. “Fine, but you know what you have to do.” He was less reluctant this time so I rode him once again until his little wienie spurted and climbed up his body. He licked me to an incredible orgasm then finished cleaning up his mess. I kissed him deeply to encourage him then rolled over to a deep satisfied sleep.

Once I had broken down his barriers John became an avid cunt licker and cleaning me up became our routine even when we made love in the afternoon rather than the evening. We fucked two to three times a week and I was cumming every time, something that hadn’t occurred since we had wed. Three months later I was pretty sure he was ready for the next step. Surprisingly, John helped by giving me the opening I needed.

He was ranting when I came home from work that Thursday evening. John was always home before me. I could see that he had been drinking. He may have had his faults, but frequent abuse of alcohol wasn’t one of them. I sat silently, knowing that he’d eventually spill his guts. “I swear--that fucking idiot Hardman is driving me crazy. He hasn’t a clue and now he wants to revamp the entire department. I don’t know how much longer I can put up with it. I’d love to tell him off.”

“Why don’t you?”

“You know why—we need the money.” I had inherited before I had met John and saw no reason to tell him about my wealth. It was better that we both work, even though we struggled for the first three years. John would have squandered millions had he known of my inheritance. The investments were in an account he knew nothing about; the required reports sent to a post office box instead of our house.

“Suppose we didn’t.”

“Then I would; I’d give it to him good, but unfortunately I can’t. I’m stuck there.”

“I think I have good news for you, John. Last year you made about $45,000 while I made about sixty. I learned earlier this week that I was being considered and today that it was confirmed--I’m getting a fabulous promotion and a huge raise to $130,000, and…I’ll be eligible for a sizable bonus, too. I’m the new division manager—executive vice president for development. You can quit if you want to, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to disparage your boss. He has too many friends in the industry.” Truth be told, I’d gotten the raise and promotion almost a month ago. I was waiting for John to voice his discontent. I knew it wouldn’t take long. He hated his job and his boss even more. “You could quit and look for another job, or even stay home and take it easy for a while you wait for the right position.” I knew there would never be another job; John was sure to mouth off to his boss. Joseph Hardman was a well respected executive and was considered an expert in his field even though John had chafed under him. A negative recommendation from him would be the kiss of death. John might be able to work at McDonald’s, but he wouldn’t. Such a job would be beneath his dignity.

I didn’t mention it again; I didn’t have to. John phoned me at work the following Wednesday to tell me he had told Mr. Hardman where he could stick his job. I already knew that. Joseph had phoned me to ask if John was ill or having emotional problems. “Not that I know of, Joseph; why do you ask?”

“Because he just came in and read me the riot act. I swear I never heard such profanity. I would have fired him if he didn’t quit on the spot.”

“I’m truly sorry, Joseph. I don’t know what got into him. I do know that he has been feeling some stress lately, but that’s inexcusable. Thank you for your courtesy in phoning. I think I may leave early tonight to check up on him. I’ll be in touch.”

“I hope so and congratulations on your promotion. We may be competitors, but I do wish you luck. Somehow, I doubt you’ll need it.”

I thanked him again and sat back in my chair, a smug smile on my face until my secretary interrupted me. “Please call Philip and tell him I need to leave a little early tonight. I have a bit of a family emergency that I need to deal with.” I returned to my work, clearing a lot of paper from my desk before moving to the conference room for a meeting with several of my staff. I left half an hour early at 5:00 and was home thirty minutes later. John was there and he had been drinking again—this time in celebration.

“I did it, Soph; I told that bastard off!”

“Okay, but did you have to call him a ‘fucking fairy’ or tell him to ‘fuck himself?’ That was a trifle juvenile.” I continued when he gave me a look of surprise. “We may be competitors, but we do speak occasionally. He actually sounded worried about you.”

“Yeah…right; he only cares about himself. I think I’ll take a week off and then I’ll look for another job. There are usually ads in the Sunday paper and I can check online, too. I’m not worried.” Neither was I; John was in for a surprise.

He stayed home for the rest of the week and true to his word he did begin a job search the following Monday, cutting out almost a dozen ads from the newspaper. He was optimistic, but that didn’t last. Two weeks later he complained bitterly. “It’s just like that bastard to blackball me. One of the managers confided that he wanted to hire me, but couldn’t with such negative references.”

“I’m sure your tirade had a lot to do with that. I told you it was a juvenile thing to do. You could have been critical, but civilized.” I would have continued to tell him that he had brought this on himself, but decided not to. John may have been excitable, but he wasn’t an idiot—he could figure that out for himself. “Please, dear won’t you give me a hand with dinner?”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“I can, but since you’ve been home all day doing nothing I thought you might be willing to help. Frankly, I’m tired and all I want is a cup of tea and some toast.”

“Okay…what do you want me to do?” I set him at several tasks that he’d normally consider beneath him while I rustled up a salad and a steak. Afterwards, I asked for some help clearing and rinsing the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher. He wasn’t pleased, but he didn’t complain either. I let him fuck me that night; he was more than willing to lick me clean and give me an orgasm, too. I kissed him, encouraged him in his job-seeking efforts even though I knew they were fruitless, and rolled over to a most enjoyable slumber.

When the weekend came John was content to sit back and watch TV while I cleaned the house—time for another change. “Do you think it’s fair, darling that I work all week and have to clean the house, too? You know I work roughly sixty hours plus another five on housework while you’re doing nothing. It might be different if you were working, but you’re not. Sixty-five hours to none doesn’t’ seem fair, does it?”

“You know I’ve never done that, Soph.”

“You could learn, couldn’t you? I’d help you in the beginning, but it’s hardly rocket science. The house would really sparkle if you’d do maybe two hours a day. Then we could have the weekend free to do things together.” There was a grumbling acknowledgement, but he did turn off the set and join me. I showed him how to dust the way I wanted it done—remove every item, dust it and the area where it sat and replace it. Of course, I never did that—it was too time consuming--but now I had someone with plenty of time on his hands. We worked together for two hours as I encouraged him with compliments and kisses.

John had a list of chores when I left for work Monday morning. They were done, but poorly. I was critical, but that’s all. He complained when I gave him the same list plus another two hours on Tuesday. “Had you done these right yesterday you’d only have half to do today.” I kissed him and went to work. By week’s end it was pretty obvious even to John that he wasn’t going to find work anytime soon so I gradually increased his workload at home. However, when I returned home the following Thursday evening it was obvious that he had done nothing. I was furious.

“What the hell have you been doing? Think this is a fucking joke? Get up and lie across the table.”

“What? Why should I?”

“I’m doing my share—more than my share--but you aren’t holding up your end. I only ask you to work for a couple of hours and you can’t be bothered. Either get up there or get out. I’m fed up with your shitty attitude!”

“You don’t mean it, Soph.”

“Don’t I? Why the hell should I have to do everything? I didn’t mind that you quit your job, but you had to swear at your boss and insult him. What did you expect him to do…turn the other cheek? If I’m going to do it all I might as well do it alone.”

His head was down, but he walked slowly up to the table and leaned over it. I left him in place and walked into the bedroom, returning with his thick brown belt. He gave me an incredulous look when I lowered his jeans, but he didn’t move. The first blow seemed to take him by surprise. He cried out in obvious pain. He was bawling by the sixth and gasping for breath by the time I had administered the tenth. I left him there to gather himself while I returned the belt to his closet.

“I didn’t enjoy that, John, but I think it was necessary to remind you of your responsibilities. I wasn’t kidding when I said I would go it alone. We had an agreement, didn’t we? I’m working and you’re taking care of the house while you’re not. Now, unfortunately you’ll have two days chores to do or must I repeat this tomorrow evening?”

“No…Soph…I’m sorry.” I leaned over to kiss his cheek then told him to help with the dinner. We were eating when I lowered the next boom. “I think you should learn to cook. Just think how much time we could save if you had dinner ready when I came home. I’d also appreciate a glass of wine and maybe a foot massage then. You could handle that, couldn’t you?”

He gave me a look that expressed his displeasure, but said nothing. His control was slipping away and there was nothing he could do about it. I set up a menu for tomorrow—something simple that even he couldn’t fuck up: broiled pork chops, baked potatoes, and green peas that he could microwave. I wrote the instructions on a sheet of paper with the times to start everything and explained how to set the table the way I wanted it.

I phoned John from my car the following afternoon. “Hello, darling—I’ll be home in about five minutes. Would you please open the Chardonnay that’s in the ‘fridge? Why don’t you have one, too? Then we can talk while you’re taking care of my feet. I spent a lot of time walking in these damned heels today. Okay, see you soon, hun.” In fact I’d changed my shoes to flats in the office. I only used the heels when entertaining a client and when I wanted to make a really positive impression.

John had my wine on the coffee table when I arrived. I was sure to compliment and thank him. “I think this would be better if you were on the floor, John. You don’t mind, do you?” Once again, I had a hidden agenda. I wanted to reinforce his new position in our household—and mine, too.

“Would you please remove my stockings, John?” He gave me that look again, but did reach up for my thighs. Once they were pulled off he began to move his fingers over my feet, massaging the balls with his thumbs and kneading my toes. “My goodness, John—you have very talented fingers. I’ll bet you could get a job as a masseur. Why don’t you look up?” I spread my legs when he did.

“I don’t believe it, Sophie…no underwear?”

“I’m so evil. I took my panties off when I left work. I was hoping you’d do my feet. Maybe you’d like to do something with my puss, too.”

“I would.” He began to undo his belt, but I stopped him.

“We can do that later, but only if you take care of me now. I need to relieve some stress; it’s been a difficult day. I never knew such problems when I was just a sales person. Would you, please darling?” I spread my legs even farther, exposing my neatly trimmed cunt to him. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. His wonderful tongue was up my tunnel seconds later. Ten minutes later my stress was miraculously gone as I experienced a delicious orgasm that shook my entire body. John’s tongue was probably his strongest muscle. I exercised it almost daily. John cleaned up after dinner while I showered then I allowed him to fuck me, although I’d probably be more accurate if I said that I fucked him. I always took the top where I could control the action and pace and where I could move easily to his head for our post-coital cleaning.

I had noticed a gradual reduction in our home’s cleanliness over the next few weeks and I had whipped him several times without any noticeable improvement. Then one day I learned the reason why. I was in my office taking a brief break for lunch when I decided to check our MasterCard account online. To my surprise there were two ATM cash advances I hadn’t made. Each was for $300 and plus a fee of five dollars. When I phoned the bank I learned they were for transactions on a private ATM. There was no answer when I tried to phone the merchant for information. I found that odd.

I tried again when I had some spare time around three that afternoon. The phone rang five times before it was answered. “Pink Pussycat.”

“This is Main Street Bank…credit card security,” I lied. “I’m checking on some activity on one of our accounts. Do you have an ATM in your establishment?”

“Yeah, we do.”

“Do you recall a customer by the name of John Masters and would you know if he used your ATM?”

“Sure, I know John. He’s one of our regulars. Let me just check his tab.” He continued a few minutes later. “Yeah, he made two payments...one last Thursday for $300 and another yesterday for the same amount. He still owes quite a bit so he’ll probably use the ATM again.”

“Thank you for your assistance. We just wanted to verify that he had actually made the transactions.” I hung up the phone. I was livid. John was hanging out at our local strip club, a place that was well-known for both prostitution and drug activity. I phoned my boss, telling him I needed to leave for the day. Thirty minutes later I parked my car in the garage. John was surprised to see me.

“Where’s your wallet, John?”

“On my dresser—why?”

“You’ll see; please get me a glass of wine.” I returned to the couch with the wallet in my pocket and the shredder from our office in my hands. I placed it in front of the couch and plugged it into the wall outlet. Draining the wine in a single gulp I told John to sit on the floor in front of me.

“Why can’t I sit on the couch?”

“Just do as you’re told for a change.” I pulled a sheet of paper from my purse once he was in place, handing it to John. “Mind explaining these two highlighted transactions?”

“I needed money, that’s all.”

“You needed $600 in less than a week’s time? Why?”

“I just needed it. I don’t have to explain. It’s my money, too you know.”

“Is it? I guess I’m supposed to work my tail off so you can spend hours at the Pink Pussycat running up a big tab getting lap dances and buying drunken degenerates overpriced drinks. Don’t I give you enough sex?” He had no answer so I opened the wallet. First I removed the cash, counting it. There were thirty one-dollar bills and another twenty in tens. “Tip money for the dancers?” I pulled out each of his credit cards and his debit/ATM card, feeding them into shredder, but I wasn’t done. Bit by bit I emptied the wallet. There were scraps of paper with women’s names and phone numbers and when I reached into the pocket behind the plastic photo insert I pulled out two condoms.

“Those are old; they’ve been in there for ages…since before we were married, I swear.”

“That’s funny…they don’t look old. The packets look new and the expiration date is June, 2017. Care to try again? Get your clothes and get out. We’re finished.”

“No…please; I’ll do anything. Please, baby.”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me! We had an agreement. You broke it. Instead of working here to keep our home in good shape you’re spending hours at that sleazy strip club, carrying condoms and getting names and phone numbers of women. I’ve had enough.”

“Please...anything; whatever you say I’ll do it. Don’t kick me out. I beg you.”

“Anything, eh? Okay, here are my terms. You’ll accept a whipping from me every day for the next two weeks. You won’t need any money, because you won’t be going anywhere. Give me your keys. I’m going to sell your car. Now take off your clothes. You won’t need them because you’re not going anywhere. Get naked and get over the table. It’s time for your first punishment session. I’ll have something else for you once we’re done. Just be glad I’m whipping your ass instead of your balls.” I jumped up leaving John to wonder where everything had gone wrong.

I took longer than expected, changing my clothes into something more comfortable—something that wouldn’t restrict my swing. I walked back to John about ten minutes later. If anything, I was even angrier than I was when I got home. I had John’s belt in my hand. Luckily for John he was naked and lying over the table. I ran the cool leather over his ass a few times before stepping back and bringing the belt down forcefully onto his right cheek. “I hate doing this, John,” I lied. “Why do you make me? Can’t you just do what you’re told to do? You’ve had it so easy, but that’s done. I’m really going to work you now and you’re going to do it…every single thing I tell you to do.” I brought the belt down again and again, stopping only when I had given him an even two dozen. His ass was covered with red welts.

“Stand up and turn around. I have something for you. I obviously can’t trust you so I have to take control. Don’t move an inch.” I returned to the bedroom, hung the belt in John’s closet and returned with a small parcel I’d put into my closet about two weeks ago.

I addressed John once I had returned to the dining room. “Spread your legs-wider--and put your hands behind your back.” I stepped behind him and shocked the hell out of him when I locked his wrists into handcuffs. “That’s nothing, John. I’ll take them off in another minute. I don’t want you interfering. You said ‘anything’ and I’m taking you at your word. You can leave any time you don’t like what I do to you. Don’t ever forget that.”

Reaching into the box I removed the stainless steel ring. It fit tightly around John’s balls and cock. I was glad John had a reasonably big set of testicles as I pushed his soft little wienie into the cylinder and locked it in place with the special screws. Using the special wrench I tightened the screws that covered the cylinder, pressing the sharp points into his cock. “Now I have control of this thing. Someone has to control it and you obviously can’t. An unauthorized erection will hurt you, I’m afraid. Understand this—I own you now. Do what you’re told and we’ll fuck often, but it will be done my way and only my way. I’ll tie you into the bed before I remove this and it will be back on you before you’re released. Feel free to try to remove it. It’s strong stainless steel. The company has told me that a force of more than 5,000 pounds would be required to bend the tube up so your balls can escape and there are four prongs in the tube that will squeeze your penis until it’s cut in two if you try to pull it out. Do yourself a favor and leave it alone.” I removed the handcuffs, telling John to begin the dinner. “I’ll have another glass of wine.” Taking the key I walked into the home office where I opened my safe. The keys went in and I closed the door, locking John’s freedom inside. He was crying, kneeling on the floor when I returned.

“I’m nothing but your servant now,” he complained between gasps and sobs.

“Don’t flatter yourself, John. Servants have an honorable job; they earn honest wages. They also make important decisions. You earn nothing and you haven’t made a decent decision in months. No, John…you’re not my servant. You’re my slave.” The words hit him like a sledgehammer. “I’m sure that’s a shock, but it’s the only way to save us and our marriage.

“I have to work for the rest of the week, but I’m going to take the next three weeks off so I can train you. I’m going to break you, John and when I’m done you’ll truly be my slave. You’ll follow every command and you’ll never hesitate or refuse me no matter how difficult or odious the task. I’m going to fuck you—fuck your ass—among other things just to prove that I can do anything I want to you. Now, I’m going to give you an opportunity to make your final decision. If you wish I will release your cock and balls and you can go on your way. You and I will be done—finished forever. I won’t give you any money other than what’s in your wallet, but, eventually, you will get a portion of our property. However, I’ll see to it that the divorce will take more than a year to finalize. I’m going to get another glass of wine. Sit here on the floor and think. I’ll expect your decision when I return.”

It was all I could do not to laugh in the kitchen. Either way I’d be the winner, but I fully expected John to stay—to accept being my slave. It was the first critical step in securing our future. I took a few extra minutes just to make him sweat. He was still seated on the floor when I returned to the couch. “Well?”

He gasped more than spoke, “You know I couldn’t live without you. I really don’t have a choice, do I? I’ll stay.”

“And? Go ahead and say it, John. Tell me what you’ll be.”

“I’ll…I’ll be…be…your…slave.” I leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“Very good, John; now I want to give you a few rules. Most importantly, only you and I will know that you’re my slave. I have no plans to humiliate you publicly or in front of our families. That would embarrass me, too. Outsiders will see you as my extremely devoted and attentive husband, a man who has decided to stay home and take care of our house and yard, and eventually our family. I already told you that you will do whatever I tell you. Initially, I will deny you orgasms to help you learn to obey. In time we will resume our regular schedule of sex. However, there will be one change and it will be a big one. I will cuckold you. Do not be concerned. I need to have something big in me and I’m tired of using a cold dildo. I need something hard and hot. It will never be love, only sex, and never will I allow any partner to spend the night. Only you will share my bed. I will expect you to clean me once I’m done and in time I’ll have you clean my partner, too.

“Come closer and sit between my legs. This will be your special place—between my legs where you can tongue my pussy on demand. You may lean your head against my thigh, but you are not to lick me without permission. You’ll also take my urine and drink it. I think we can start that now. This wine has had an effect on me. Follow me to the bathroom. You’ll crawl until your training is over. Come along now.” I rose and walked deliberately to the bedroom. John was almost twenty feet behind me. I wasn’t pleased when he finally reached the bedroom. “You will keep pace with me in the future. I’m going to add five strokes to tomorrow’s punishment. Now you can help me out of my clothes.”

Three minutes later I led John into the shower stall. He crawled like a dog heeling by my side. “Sit right here in the center so I can straddle your head. I expect you to miss a lot at first, but I also expect you to make a sincere effort. If not you can expect additional punishment. We will do this first thing in the morning and whenever I feel like going, even if I wake up in the middle of the night. It’s an important part of a slave’s duties—of your duties--just like giving me orgasms.”

I leaned down to kiss John’s cheek once he was in position. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth and I pulled it to my cunt. I let go and the rich amber liquid flowed into his mouth. He gagged a few times, but managed to swallow more than half. I turned on the water and pulled him up, handing him the soap and telling him to wash my body. In time he’d wash and blow dry my hair and even do my finger and toenails. I stepped out and a minute later John had dried me and brought my robe.

“Crawl behind me, John. We need to go to the basement. I have work for you there.” Once there I had John drill two holes in the steel I-beam that formed the major support for the house. I placed a short length of chain in a U-bolt, pushed both ends through the holes and John attached the washers and wrenched the nuts down tight. A second was placed exactly eight feet away. Then, using the special concrete bit I’d bought, two screw anchors were sunk into the floor beneath each of the U-bolts. Heavy-duty eye bolts, each with its own chain were socked tightly into the anchors, locking them in place.

“Stand between the chains, John.” I fitted strong leather wrist and ankle cuffs to his body then locked him tightly into place, his arms and legs stretched almost to the breaking point. “Get used to being here, John. This is where I’ll discipline you and if anyone needs discipline it’s you. So far I’ve only used your belt, but once I begin your formal training you’ll get the cane and the crop, as well. I’ll be very hard on you, John—especially at first--but it’s for your benefit. The faster I break you the easier it will be on you in the long run. You can stay here while I get a bite to eat. Then I’ll start to condition you.” I kissed him passionately on the mouth. He responded, but he was shaking like a leaf.

I knew that John would break quickly. He couldn’t stand even the slightest pain. He put up a huge fuss last year when I took a splinter from his finger, shrieking and crying, even shaking before I removed the one-eighth of an inch sliver. I couldn’t wait until he tasted the cane.

I made myself a sandwich, eating it in the living room with a cup of tea. Once I was done I made another, cutting it into tiny pieces. I carried it on a paper plate into the basement. “This is how you will eat from now on, John. You’ll sit in your place between my legs and I’ll feed you—bit by bit—when I feel like it and only as much as I feel appropriate. Obviously, you will eat normally when in the company of others.” I placed a bit of sandwich between his lips. He ate it eagerly. I gave him sips of water, releasing him once he was done.

“Upstairs, John…crawl and take your position.” I turned away, keeping one eye on John. He followed directions and was in position five minutes later. “I’m keeping those cuffs on you, John. You’ll sleep on the floor at the foot of the bed until your training is over. That will give you some additional incentive.” I spent the evening reading until John spoke.

“I have to go to the bathroom, Sophie.”

“First, you’ll call me ‘Miss Sophie’ in private—‘Sophie’ only in public. Second, as a slave you’ll have to learn to control yourself. I, and only I, will decide if and when you use the toilet. Since we’re just beginning I will allow it. Come…follow me.” I led him to the lavatory and pointed. Okay, you’ll have to sit with that cage covering your cock. You’ll get used to it in time.”

“Are you going to watch me?

“Yes, of course—as a slave you will have no right of privacy. Also, you will raise your hand if you wish to speak and you will speak only when I permit it. I think I’ll go again while you’re peeing. Head up and open your mouth.” He sat to piss red-faced from embarrassment, but that would pass, and soon. He leaned forward, raised his head, and opened his mouth. I filled it with my cunt. I ran my fingers through John’s hair while I began to empty my bladder. He did a better job than he had earlier, swallowing almost all while pissing into the bowl. Of course, I didn’t have much, having pissed into his mouth only an hour or so earlier.

“Clean me, John. You wouldn’t want me to have a dirty puss, would you?” He responded by licking me from asshole to clit several times before burying his tongue in my tunnel. He’d become extremely adept with his tongue over the past three months. I planned to give it plenty of exercise every day for the rest of our lives. John shifted to my clit, sucking it between his teeth and driving me over the edge to the sweet agony of an all-consuming orgasm. I was so weak-kneed I almost fell, but moved back from John and kissing his cheek. He looked up at me, his eyes full of love. “Thank you…Miss Sophie.”

I led him to my bedroom, placed him on the floor at the foot of the bed where I fastened his wrist cuffs together behind his back and locked them to the bed frame by a short chain. I put a pillow beneath his head and a blanket over his body. “Good-night, my slave,” I said with a quick kiss.

“Good-night, Miss Sophie…and thank you.” I kissed his cheek and tumbled into bed finding sleep almost immediately.

CHAPTER 2

Time usually drags before a vacation, but not this time. I worked non-stop from 8:00 in the morning until 6:00 in the evening. John met me every time kneeling by the door, completely naked except for his wrist and ankle cuffs and the ever-present cock cage. My wine was always present on the coffee table. He crawled, heeling like a dog, to my feet.

He removed my stockings and massaged my feet for more than a half hour before serving my dinner, sitting in his place between my legs as I fed him bits and scraps from my fingers. I was sure to give him enough. He would need his strength over the coming weeks to endure the beatings and whippings I had planned for him—the pain that would drive him down to true slavery and complete obedience.

I know this sounds cruel and, maybe it is, but I loved John and I knew he was on the road to self-destruction. His episode with his boss and later the strip club were just the most recent examples. John had run up a tab of more than a thousand dollars in less than two weeks. I paid it off one evening while John hung from the chains after his caning, his ass red with crisscrossed welts.

“You have John Masters’ tab,” I asked the bartender once I had made my way into the club. God, it was a filthy mess. I refused to even touch the bar.

“Who the hell wants to know?”

“I was just wondering if you actually wanted it paid. John will never be here again. That’s a promise. So, tell me—are your bosses willing to take a $400 loss?”

“What’s that about a loss?” The voice came from behind me. He was fiftyish, bald, short, and more than forty pounds overweight. He wore a suit, but it was just as dirty as the club, just like his unshaven face.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to settle John Masters’ debt or write it off. If I walk out of here because of your bartender’s surly attitude you’ll never see that money.”

“Sorry, Ma’am—we don’t get many real ladies in here. Gabe, get the tab.” He handed it to the manager about a minute later. “Okay, says here he owes $395.”

I removed four hundreds from my purse, handing them to him. “I’ll have the tab marked ‘paid in full’, signed and dated.” He took one look at me and smirked, but he did pull a pen from his pocket. I walked out once the paper met my demands. I was back home ten minutes later.

Relaxing in the living room with a glass of Merlot I read the newspaper and worked the crossword puzzle. Once I was done I walked down to the basement and released John from his chains. He fell to his knees as I crossed to the other side of the open space. “Come here, John…I need to pee.” I watched with satisfaction as he crawled to me--head down submissively--until he reached me. His mouth went straight to my cunt, opened, and sealed against me. I stood, one hand against the wall for support, as I emptied my bladder into John for what was probably the thirtieth time. He handled it without spilling a drop. “While you’re down there you can lick my asshole. I’ve had an itch there ever since I walked into that sleazy Pink Pussycat.”

John looked up, startled at my comment. “Yes, John—I went there to pay your debt. I don’t know how you could stand that cesspool. My skin was crawling the entire time I was there. Now…about my asshole….” John hesitated. I knew I had to hurt him even more. He barely grazed it with his tongue. “Back to the chains…you obviously need more conditioning. Do it now, or else.”

John was defeated as he crawled back for additional punishment. I had him locked in place only a minute later. “I’m going to give you twenty with the cane, John. You need it to learn obedience. Remember what I told you? You’ll follow my every command without hesitation, no matter how difficult or odious. Licking my asshole was a command. Not only did you hesitate, your performance was pitiful.” I stepped back and swished the cane through the air. I always did this several times to help intimidate John. It worked; he was bawling before I even began.

I stepped back and swung, the flexible cane whipping into John’s left cheek and leaving a horrendous welt. I swung again, marking his cheek just one-half inch above. I continued until his entire cheek was covered in nearly parallel lines—red and raised. I turned around to swing from the other side. I was done two minutes later and so was John. I left him hanging there limply by his wrists while I walked across the basement to a cabinet where I kept a healing salve. I needed to hurt John, but I didn’t want to injure him. I thought this might be a good time to try something new—something I thought we both needed.

Back to the cabinet I went, returning with a lightweight canvas tote I’d picked up at Walgreens. Reaching in, I removed a clear plastic tube about three inches long by three quarters of an inch in diameter. Smearing Vaseline around his nipple ensured a tight seal and when I pulled the trigger several times the air in the tube was expelled. Nature abhors a vacuum so the space was filled by John’s swelling nipple. I stopped and waited for a few minutes when it was almost a half inch long and a quarter thick. It was clamped tightly and painfully once I removed the pump. Even tugging several times could not remove it. My attentions moved to the other and five minutes later it, too was firmly clamped. John howled in pain. Now, the best part.

The chain around my neck held the key to John’s cage. It had been more than a week since he’d had any relief. I could see how full his balls were. A twist of the wrench retracted the prongs that ensured he wouldn’t try to pull his little wienie out and a minute later his cock and balls were free. My hands found his scrotum and rubbed his sensitive balls. His cock responded in seconds. My left hand tightened the clamps as my right jerked him off. It didn’t take long—he never took long. John’s cock stiffened and then erupted, long fountains of white semen flying into the plastic tumbler I held in front of him.

I was amazed at the amount of semen that filled the container to a depth more than half an inch. Finally, it was over. My hand was covered in white goo; John opened his mouth to lick it clean. My fingers dipped into the viscous liquid repeatedly and John licked them clean every time. Finally, I held the shallow plastic cup to his lips. His tongue extended to remove every drop. I kissed his cheek and removed the clamps. He screamed again as the blood flowed back into the tender areas. I returned the cage to his body.

Again, I released him and called him to me. “Lick it, John. Lick it and push your tongue in. Push your tongue all the way into my asshole. Clean my bowel with that strong tongue of yours.” This time John crawled immediately to my ass, opened my cheeks and pushed his tongue to my anus. After licking it clean he pushed. It was a battle between my stubborn sphincter and his persistent tongue. I was extremely pleased when John won. My anus tingled as it was spread and my bowel wall could feel the intruder. It was an experience to remember, mostly because it was the shining example of my dominance over John and his submission to me. Personally, I thought the act disgusting, but it was something I had to make John do. I knew he was truly broken now.

“Okay, John—you can pull your tongue out now. Come over to the laundry tub and use this mouthwash. That’s it…clean your mouth and spit it out. Now drink this water. Stand up. Your training isn’t over, but you can walk now.”

Instead of standing John remained on his knees to kiss my feet. “Thank you, Miss Sophie. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He kissed my feet for almost ten minutes before I stopped him.

“You can do that and lick them, too when you massage my feet. Now, c’mon let’s have dinner. Make hamburgers. You may have two and I’ll have one. Toast the rolls, too.” I walked upstairs with John trailing behind me. He brought me a glass of wine; I sat and relaxed while he lit the grill and made the burgers with his hands. Twenty minutes later he knelt before me to announce that dinner was served. He held the chair for me before taking his place between my legs. I moved the chair back a bit so I could reach down and feed him. He leaned his head lovingly against my thigh. I had just given him the last bit of burger when I sighed. “Lick me, John.” He attacked my cunt with real zeal starting at my labia as I’d taught him. John had learned to take his time; I enjoyed building slowly—like climbing a mountain before sailing off the peak into the sweet oblivion of a glorious orgasm. That’s where I was headed now.

John sucked and licked for more than thirty minutes before I motioned him to my clit. It felt as though it was on fire. It was hot and hard and swollen in my desire and need. “Now! Now, John!” He sucked it between his teeth; my body experienced one massive tremor after another. It lasted for perhaps thirty seconds. I was spent when it ended, but I still had work to do. “Clean up, take out the trash, and meet me downstairs. We have one more session before we turn in.”

He rushed to clean the kitchen and wipe down the table before removing the trash to the containers in the back yard. He met me downstairs ten minutes later even though I was sure that he’d rather not be there. I connected his wrist cuffs behind his back then tied them to a rope I had passed through one of the chains. I pulled John’s wrists up until I knew there was a strain on his shoulders then I tied the rope off to a loop I’d tied roughly a foot above his cuffs. Once in place I removed his cock cage and again used the vacuum pump on his nipples. I could easily see that they were quite swollen. If everything I had read was accurate much of that swelling would eventually be permanent due to scar tissue inside. I had a long-range plan, but I wasn’t going to tell John about it until I was ready.

Once I had pumped his nipples I applied the clamps, tightening them down, but not quite as tightly as I had earlier. Back to the cabinet I went and when I turned around I thought John would faint. Hanging between my legs was a long flesh-colored cock with a huge pink mushroom head. It was more than eight inches long and almost two inches in diameter. It was something to fear, especially for an anal virgin like John.

Once behind him I lubed my fingers, pressed them into John’s ass, twisting and turning to spread the lube around his anus. I had four fingers into him when I lubed the dildo. “Relax, John—it’s going into you whether you like it or not. It will just hurt more if you resist.” Gripping his hips tightly I pushed forward, forcing the irresistible tool into his impenetrable sphincter. He whined and cried, but I was the boss. I could do what I wanted with him and I would during his training period to help him to obey.

I pushed all the way into his bowel. Once there I tightened the nipple clamps. He howled in agony as I began to pump my dildo into him. My left hand on his shoulder, I moved my right to his cock, stroking it in time with my fucking and soon he spurted all over my hand even as the motions of my harness stimulated me. I held back from cumming--that would be John’s job later. My cock had served its purpose. Pulling it out; I could see him relax. After dumping it in the laundry tub I returned to John with a warm wet cloth that I used to wipe down his cock and ass. Once the cage was back in place I released him. He followed me upstairs to the bedroom where I allowed him to undress me. Then he drew a bath, licking my pussy gently while I sat on the tub’s edge.

John helped me into the tub. “Get in and sit behind me, John then you can wash my body. Be careful with my breasts, pussy, and ass crack. You are to wash them, not play around. Once my body is clean you will wash my hair.” He took the soap, began on my neck, shoulders, and back. I lifted my body to give him access to my ass then he reached around me to clean my chest, stomach, and pussy. I was pleased when he washed me, but did not take liberties. Once he was done I taught him how to wash my hair, rinse it, and use the conditioner I loved. He dried my body and my hair, blow drying and brushing it one hundred times—something I had done every night, but he would do in the future.

I spoke to him once he was done. “Now I think I should do something about your hair. Stand with your hands behind your back.” The handcuffs went around his wrists then I removed the cock cage. Positioning John over a towel I cut his pubic hair within a half inch then applied a hot towel, shaving soap, and a razor. All his hair on his abdomen, scrotum, and asshole was gone. I made doubly sure by coating these areas with a depilatory that would kill the follicles and, hopefully, leave him bare forever. It burned his skin so I pushed him into the shower after ten minutes. The cold water shrunk his tiny cock to almost nothing. The cage was returned and locked in place once I had him dry.

“Okay, John, time to use the toilet and I have to go also then it’s bedtime.” He moved to the toilet without reservation and opened his mouth. We were both done in less than a minute. John licked me clean and when I turned around he attacked my asshole. It was spotless on the outside, but the inside was where John’s tongue was. I still thought it was disgusting, but I needed to do it to reinforce my dominance during his training. Once that period was completed I’d never do it again.

I placed John carefully at the foot of the bed, giving him a longer chain than before in recognition of his efforts. I arranged the pillow and blanket before leaning down to kiss him passionately. “I’m very pleased with your progress, John. I’ll want to speak to you at breakfast tomorrow morning. I know you’ll pay attention. Goodnight, slave.”

“Goodnight, Miss Sophie. I love you.”

“And I love you very much, slave. Don’t ever forget that.” I kissed his cheek and stood to get into bed. I slept well again.


Rating: 92%, Read 115388 times, Posted Jan 09, 2015

Fiction | BDSM, Consensual Sex, Cum Swallowing, Domination, Female, Oral Sex, Slavery, Submission, Torture

0 Comments

Login to join the discussion