by Selena Kitt
“You . . . you would spank me?” She pushed the words out in hopes his answer would be yes.
“Yes, and perhaps more if you are truly naughty. I might use a crop, a whip, or perhaps a cane if you are willing.”
To Misty a crop was something they used on horses and a whip was even scarier. The idea of a caning both frightened and intrigued her. She understood they all were tools to punish her and that excited her, but there had to be limits, right? “You would respect whatever limits I set and not go too far?” She felt somewhat self conscious even asking Marcel this as she couldn’t imagine him hurting her.
Marcel ran his hand through her hair and he began to walk her to a nearby bench. “Your submission will be nothing but what you desire, Misty. I sense you have deep submissive desires and I will allow you to explore them.”
It was all more amazing than she could imagine. Now Marcel, who was already a gift from heaven, was going to make her kinky sexual fantasies come true. A strong wave of excitement welled up inside her and she got the impulse to ask him to do something dominant to her right now with all these people milling about. She took his hand and pulled him to a nearby bench. “Could you do something right now, Marcel, please?”
Marcel paused a moment. “Not unless you can call me Master.” He knew saying the word to him would be a thrill for her.
Misty sat down on the bench, but clenched his arms so he would stay standing in front of her. This was close to the position she had often sucked his cock in and so she would have to look up to look him in the eyes which reminded her of servicing him orally. With Marcel’s legs to shelter her from view, she opened her legs to feel the breeze on her panties while sitting on this bench on busy Newbury Street. The soft spring breeze wafting on her panties made her sure her pussy was damp with desire. Misty let her hazel eyes look up at him as she said the words. “I’m open to you, Master, to do with as you will.” A pulse of naked arousal surged through her. Yes, I do want to be his slave.
Although the Newbury Street tourists and shoppers were seemingly unaware of Misty’s submission as they dipped in and out of storefronts and bistros, Marcel smiled and sat down beside her. Without him standing in front of her, Misty instinctively started to close her legs, but he stopped her by placing his hand on her inner thigh, just under her denim skirt. He leaned in and whispered to her. “Don’t be afraid to allow your Master to touch you.” Stealthily he slipped his hand up the few inches which separated his fingers from her pubis. Next he touched her panties right over her pussy allowing his fingers to fondle the thin material.
Misty gasped to his touch and her legs parted inviting him to do as he pleased. He slipped in just a little further so his fingers could run right over her clit. “Yessss, please, Master, touch me there.”
However the touch was fleeting, just a taste, and Marcel’s hand was gone in an instant. Misty mewed softly in protest, but then began to smooth down her shirt which had been pushed up by Marcel’s invasion of her intimate space. As she closed her legs, she got her first feeling of what it would be like to be his slave. As a sexual object used first for his pleasure, she knew she would derive the ultimate pleasure from his use of her body.
As she turned to speak to him, she caught sight of a blonde girl sitting on a bench opposite her who was quite obviously watching them. The girl was beautiful, the kind of blue-eyed blonde Misty could imagine seeing Marcel with, but Marcel was with her. The girl smiled and nodded at Misty like she was somehow silently approving of Misty’s sexual play and her lover.
“My answer is yes. I want more. I want to be your slave, Marcel.” Misty’s words were breathy with her arousal, but she doubted she’d ever been more serious about anything in her life.
“Then it will be so, Mon ami.”
Misty let her head sink into his chest and she smelled his cologne with a sigh. How did I get so lucky?
* * * *
Four days had passed since her admission on Newbury Street, but nothing had yet happened as Misty had been busy with her classes at Boston College. Marcel had also been busy with his French teaching assignments, but it was now Friday, Misty’s last day of class for the spring semester. Marcel had promised her they would begin her submission this weekend and he had given her specific instructions on what she must do when she returned to their apartment. The nervous anticipation had been building in Misty for four days and she was ready to do anything for him.
By far the strangest of her instructions was not to enter her apartment even though she of course had a key. She was assured that when she arrived he would already be there and she was to knock on her own door when she arrived. She did so and after her knock, he spoke to her through the door giving her permission to enter, but when she did he wasn’t there in the front room waiting for her. Instead as he had told her previously there were the items they had discussed sitting on the coffee table waiting for her. There was a black scarf to use as a blindfold and a pair of handcuffs. She remembered her instructions were to strip down to her bra, panties, and stockings (she had been specifically told to wear these undergarments to class today). Once stripped down to her lingerie she blindfolded herself and handcuffed her wrists behind her back before she assumed a kneeling position on the living room carpet. Misty noticed her breathing got heavier and she began to shake with anticipation as she went through his steps and when her knees hit the floor she understood Marcel had been right about how she would feel. If submission made her feel like this, she would love it.
What seemed like a long time passed while she was on her knees, but she realized how did she really know how long it was? Finally she heard footsteps approaching her.
“Are you ready to serve, slave?” It was the French-accented voice she loved asking her to check in with him as to how she was doing.
Misty’s arousal spiked at his voice and she felt like her pussy juices must be running down her thighs by now. “Yes, Master, your slave is very ready.” She accentuated the “very ready” in hopes he would do something to her quickly.
However nothing happened and time just seemed to slip by. She could hear his footsteps moving around the apartment. Was he preparing something for her, a surprise perhaps? Finally she dared speak. “Master, I’m ready for you.”
“Be quiet, slave, you have not been told to speak.”
Wow, he’s being so serious, like I’m really a slave. To Misty this was odd and she was anxious, but she was still willing to obey. Clearly he was injecting a sense of realism into their game and this excited her. There was more silence for a little while, but finally she heard him move up behind her and lift her long red hair from her neck. “Bend over, slave, face on the carpet.”
Misty obeyed thinking it was the perfect position for him to strip her panties off and take her from behind, but he tossed her hair forward onto the carpet and she felt him quickly fasten a snug band of smooth leather around her throat.
“Slaves are collared.” He said as he fixed the leather tight but not too tight and she heard the click of it closing.
A collar, I’m a collared slave now. The revelation sent another thrill through Misty and she wanted to reach up and touch the smooth leather, but alas her hands were cuffed.
With her body now collared, cuffed, and blindfolded, Marcel finally began to do what Misty had wanted him to do since she first entered their apartment. He let his hands roam her body touching her intimately almost everywhere. She wished now she was naked, but she understood she would likely be bared soon. Marcel worked his way down her bent over body moving her as he saw fit to gain access. He touched her face and lips, licked behind her ears and at the nape of her neck, kneaded her breasts through her bra, ran his hands up and down her black stockings, and finally he pulled aside her panties to expose her pussy. He did touch her lips and just flicked her clit once, but this was no where near what Misty wanted to feel. She groaned when he abandoned her pussy to move upwards and touch her anus. Misty hadn’t considered the possibility of anal sex, but this
seemed to be a clear signal Marcel wanted to explore her crinkled rear hole.
They had not discussed anal this weekend and Misty wasn’t prepared. Thinking about it she felt she wanted to give up her anal virginity, but she knew things had to be done to prepare her rear passage for penetration.
“Do you want me there, Master?” Misty simply had to ask Marcel his intentions.
There was no immediate answer, but she felt him lift her head up by her hair. Before she could say anything he pinched her nose with his fingers and she instinctively opened her mouth to breathe. When she did, he forced something hard and round into it and then he tightly buckled it behind her head.
“You have much to learn about talking, slave, but this will help you understand.”
Misty was not familiar with a ball gag, nor had they discussed him using one on her so her reaction was one of angry frustration. Unable to speak articulately, she bleated an angry groan at him and tried to get up. She quickly realized he was applying simple pressure behind her shoulder blades to hold her in her head down and ass up position.
“I know you’re pissed, Mon ami, but it’s best you learn to accept new things as soon as possible.”
What did he mean about new things? She didn’t like the sound of it so she began to struggle squirming and trying to roll free of him, but his grip seemed unbreakable.
“Don’t make me punish you, slave. You won’t like it.” His voice had changed. Not his accent, but his tone became demanding and harsh.
With her fear as motivation and using all her strength, she made her best effort to roll free of him kicking up and forward to break his grip. It worked and she was free for a few seconds as his hands lost contact with her, but then she felt him grab her hair and jerk her back toward him.
However it wasn’t the pulling of her crimson locks which frightened Misty to her very core. At the same time the hand she presumed was Marcel grabbed her hair; two other hands grabbed her ankles and forced them together. She instantly felt some kind of cord binding her ankles together and she tried to kick out of it, but her efforts were in vain. As her ankles were bound tightly together the implications of three hands being used struck Misty with full force. Marcel could not be holding her head with one hand and her ankles with two others. Someone else is here in the apartment!
* * * *
After her ankles were bound, Misty felt this stranger begin to touch her. He ran his rough hands up her stockings to her panties. Quickly he got inside the thin material and touched her pussy, sticking a finger inside her. How could Marcel allow this? How could he betray her my allowing someone else to touch her and participate in what was supposed to be an intimate game between them.
Misty expected the stranger to rip her clothes off at any moment, but thankfully he did not, yet what he did do might have been worse. Suddenly she heard the jingle of chains and soon he was wrapping a harsh metal chain around her soft body. He started at her waist and he winded the cutting chain up around her torso and her arms until he made the last turn just over her breasts. The chain didn’t really restrict her more than she already was, but it caused severe discomfort as it bit into her skin and was a constant reminder of her captured situation.
Once he was done the stranger spoke. “Calm yourself, slave, you can’t escape so it’s best to accept your fate and things will go easier.” The voice was thick and harsh, but sounded local from right here in Boston.
Accept my fate! No fucking way. Misty squirmed and rolled as best she could to fight her bindings, but all she heard was laughter. She persisted and finally a hand grabbed her by the hair and slapped her face so hard it brought tears to her eyes under her blindfold. She hoped it was the stranger who had slapped her, but the voice which spoke to her harshly was her lover’s.
“Stop your foolish squirming, bitch, or I’ll hang you from the wall by your tits to show you what happens when slaves are bad. Do you know your nipples are quite stiff indicating your arousal at being treated this way?” Marcel’s question struck Misty like another slap. How can that be so, I can’t like this, can I? Misty felt Marcel tug her bra under the chains just enough to expose her nipples and then he licked them. It felt so good.
“Now let’s see if I’m as right about you as I think I am.” With those words Marcel abandoned her nipples and slipped his hand into her panties. Misty was stunned at the ease with which he pushed three fingers into her vagina. She was sopping wet inside. As Marcel’s digits pushed and probed her vaginal walls, Misty wanted to seem detached, but she couldn’t stop a low moan from escaping her lips. It wasn’t supposed to feel this good, so good she couldn’t control herself. Misty was just beginning to understand how powerfully her body wanted submission and the feeling of helplessness, but she was still trying to deny it.
Marcel on the other hand was trying to make it undeniable so he went further and let his thumb make a sawing pass over her clit while his fingers were buried deep in her sex. Once down over her engorged sex bud and then an upstroke and Misty squealed through her gag as her body spasmodically jerked with the pleasure she could not control.
“I have to admit, Stephan, you know the types who make good slaves. This bitch can’t stop herself from coming for us despite her fear.” It was the stranger speaking and Misty was ashamed by the truth of his words, yet she was more stunned by his other revelation.
Stephan? What the fuck? Marcel’s name is really Stephan? He lied to me about everything even his fucking name. Misty was astonished to hear she did not even know the true name of the alluring Frenchman who had loved her and then betrayed her.
“The pickup is tomorrow so we have her all night. I assume we’ll use the regular procedure to open her. Shall I get started, Stephan?” Now the stranger’s words didn’t make sense to Misty. What does he mean to open me?
“You brought the equipment I presume.” Stephan asked.
“Of course,” came the response.
“She’s a virgin there, so I’ll go first to open her so it will be less traumatic for her when you take her. Let’s clean her and plug her and we’ll open her later after supper.”
Misty’s eyes burned with tears under her blindfold as it was now quite clear they were discussing the opening of her anal passage. Less than a half hour ago when this was still an intimate game between her and her lover, she would have given Marcel her ass if he’d asked her to, but now it was no game and her lover Marcel was someone else entirely. Stephan and the stranger would take her anal virginity whether she liked it or not.
She felt them grab her up and carry a short way before she felt the cool porcelain of her tub. So many nights she’s spent bathing and soaking in the sanctuary of her tub, but she wondered were those days gone forever?
The position they placed her in was harshly uncomfortable with her face and breasts squashed against the tub’s bottom while her ass was up in the air. Misty thought she understood what they were going to do and her suspicions were confirmed when a tube penetrated her anus and began filling her with warm water. They were going to clean out her rear passage with an enema so they could fuck her. Soon she felt her abdomen begin to distend painfully and she tried to cry out, to beg them to stop, but the gag made her pleading unintelligible. When she felt she would burst the tube was quickly removed and a plug was pushed into her tight anal ring making it impossible for her to expel the water.
“There, we’ll let the bitch’s bowels soak while we eat. Does pizza sound good, Stephan?” It was the stranger’s voice and Misty hoped Stephan still had some concern for her. He won’t simply walk away and leave me to suffer like this, will he?
“I want pepperoni.”
Misty burned with anger as she listened to their footsteps as they left her helpless and suffering in the tub while they went to eat pizza. I was the final blow to Misty’s image of her former lover. To her Marcel was now dead and the man with the French accent was a stranger named Stephan.
Misty had no idea how long she suffered with the abdomen distend
ed, but she could hear them, probably sitting at her kitchen table laughing and talking as they ate. Finally the plug was popped out of Misty’s anal ring and the filthy water gushed forth from her bowels. Misty understood there was a lesson to be learned from this experience; her new Masters would let her suffer for long periods as time and her suffering were of no matter to them.
Misty relief was palpable, but short-lived as within moments she felt someone’s fingers lubing her anus. As soon as they had her lubed, they forced a much large butt plug inside her which felt huge to her as it stretched her anal passage. Her wet panties were pulled up over the plug and Misty was again lifted and carried. Finally she was tossed onto a soft surface which she immediately recognized as her bed.
Despite being hungry and thirsty, Misty would have been content to lie there on her bed hoping they would leave her alone for a while, but suddenly her blindfold was removed. After a few moments to allow her eyes to accept the light, she looked up and saw the face of her former lover who spoke to her. “I’m sorry this has to come as such a shock to you, Mon ami. If I could have softened it I would have, but you will be a perfect Black Rose. You are meant to be a slave. You don’t know it yet and you will fight not to accept it, but eventually you will accept your destiny.”
She would have screamed at him had she not been gagged, but all she could do was flash her angry hazel eyes at him as she shook her head to deny what he told her. No, no way, I’ll never accept this.
“Don’t try to deny your whorish nature, it’s perfect for a Black Rose.” Stephan turned off the bedroom lights and closed the door leaving Misty alone. She briefly wondered what a Black Rose was, but soon all her wild fears about what lay ahead overwhelmed her along with her recriminations about how she had trusted him so. She began to softly sob and eventually fell asleep wondering if he was right about her.