And what had he meant about involving others? He had said that would happen later, but what did he mean? Was he going to find another submissive girl to bring home? She had talked to someone online who supposedly lived with another submissive girl, that both she and her husband ‘owned.’ She was the pet's pet, if you like. Jill shook her head at her own musing. She definitely would not like to compete with another woman for her husband's attentions! But then, it wasn't up to her, was it? What a curious but also exciting thought! It wasn't up to her.
Jill felt a little twinge of desire pulse at her clit. She had been angry when Barry refused to allow her to climax last night. During her shower that morning she had quickly and roughly rubbed herself to orgasm, though it wasn't as satisfying as she had hoped. But at least it had taken the edge off. Now she could actually feel her clit throbbing inside its metal cage. She went over to the computer, sitting gingerly, trying to get used to this contraption secured between her legs. Perversely, in spite of, or perhaps because of, her inability to touch herself, she found herself becoming more and more aroused. If she could have, she would have definitely masturbated. But her pussy was secured as if she were some medieval knight's wife, kept under lock and key while he went to the wars. It was crazy! Still, she had agreed to Barry's demands. He hadn't forced her. His commanding new presence was so different, so exciting, that she would have agreed to most anything he suggested at this point.
She logged onto the site she had found yesterday, the one called slavesubs.com. There was a chat room and she entered it, using her logon name of SubJill. There were several other subs in the room, and she just watched for a while until someone sent her a secret message.
"Hi Jill, is that you? It's Tanya."
"Oh! Hi, Tanya. You remembered me!"
"Of course I did. The new girl. The new slave. How was it last night?"
Jill told Tanya all about what had happened the night before, including that Barry hadn't let her come. She left out the part about sneaking an orgasm in the shower.
"Oh, my master only lets me come on Saturdays. And then only if I've behaved perfectly well all week."
"Don't you hate that?"
"Well, I'm not crazy about it, but then, it isn't up to me, is it? I'm his property. His toy. 24/7, I am his fucktoy and his slave girl. And I'll tell you, Jill, I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Wow!” Jill was intently focused on the screen, watching the words appear, her eyes widening, her mouth slack. “You do this all the time? How long has he, um, owned you?"
"Six months. We met online. The first time we met in person, I had to be completely shaved. Not just my body, but my head too. Everything. It was an act of submission, a token, he said, of my sincerity."
"Before you even met? But what if you didn't like him? You know, when you actually met."
"Oh, Jill. It was so beyond that. I knew him for two years online before we got together. I quit my job in Ohio and moved to Pennsylvania to be with him. I came to him with all my worldly belongings. Except my hair. LOL."
"What? I keep seeing that. What is LOL?"
"Man, you are new to the net, aren't you? That means Laugh Out Loud, silly!"
"Oh.” It was true, Jill had never really ventured into any chat rooms. She had used the net for research, like determining the weather for a trip she was planning, or finding a good movie review site. But somehow she had believed that ‘chat rooms’ were for kids and perverts. But here she was, and which was she? She grinned at herself and focused on what Tanya was typing.
"He's let me grow my head hair back, though it still is only a pixie cut now. But pussy, asshole, underarms and legs, he shaves them for me every day."
"He shaves them for you?"
"Sure. It's part of our ritual. Rituals are very important between Master and slave. You'll come to see that if Barry's any kind of real dom. He would never let me handle a razor. I might cut his property. Me, that is, LOL."
Jill found this constant use of ‘LOL’ rather annoying, but she didn't comment. Instead, she thought about what it would be like to shave your pussy bare. Or to have your husband do it for you! Again her perverse little cunt heated inside the metal and velvet. She felt like she was on fire. And on top of it, she had to pee.
"I have this thing on. This chastity belt."
"No way! A real one? Oh, I'm so jealous!!!” Jill smiled, suddenly feeling proprietary about her very own chastity belt. “Man,” Tanya typed on, “Master wants to get me one. Really just for show, because I would never touch my Master's pussy without his orders. Never, never. I'd rather die."
Jill thought this sounded a little over the edge, but she also thought again, a bit guiltily, about her ‘stolen’ orgasm that morning in the shower. She looked at the time in the bottom corner of the screen. Only 10:35 and poor Jill had to pee. She shifted in her chair, trying somehow to relieve the pressure on her bladder. This was so surreal, to be sitting in her own home, with her pussy locked into a metal cage so she couldn't even pee! The phone rang and she jumped, startled. She answered on the second ring.
"Hello?"
"Slave girl."
"Sir.” It was as if they had always held these roles. Slave girl and Sir. Only a week ago she was a frustrated bored housewife with a husband who didn't fulfill her and now she was ‘owned’ by a man she barely recognized. She felt her breathing slow and deepen, as if he were there next to her suddenly in the room.
"How are you? How's your nasty little cunt?"
A small intake of breath; she still wasn't used to him speaking to her like that. But she responded. “Um, it's ok, I guess. I do kind of have to use the bathroom."
"Do you?"
"Um, yeah."
"Gee, that's a shame, seeing as I won't be home for two and half hours."
Jill squirmed, now involuntarily focusing on the pressure in her bladder. “Maybe I could just unlock it for a second? Just to pee? I mean, I swear I would re-lock it and not touch myself or anything.” Her voice was pleading.
"I have the only key. And Jill.” He paused.
"Yes?” she said, a hint of a sigh in her voice.
"I'm disappointed in you. A mere four hours in the belt and there you go begging to unlock it. I'm going to have to punish you when I get home. All part of your training, you understand."
Again the smallest sigh, but if she were honest, his words had set her poor pussy throbbing. She could feel the heat of it against the metal. She shifted, pretending to herself it was an effort to ease her bladder, but it was her eager little clit she was trying to get to. It didn't work.
"I'll see you at 1:00, slut. Wait for me at the door. I want to see your ass facing me while you kneel on the floor. Make sure you obey, cunt. You're already in enough trouble.” The line was dead before she could respond.
When he got home, Jill was waiting as ordered, and the humiliation of the position made her perverse pussy even hotter. She heard the door open and tried to stay still, resisting the urge to move, to turn around, to look at him.
"Yes,” he said, more to himself than to her. He was smiling hugely, feeling his cock stir at the sight of his gorgeous wife kneeling before him, ass up high in the air, the chains taut against her cheeks, the glimmer of burnished silver at her sex. “You look lovely, Jill. I wonder what all your lovers would think of you now, whore.” The sudden memory of her betrayals caused his emotions to become confused for a moment, as anger mixed and melted into the arousal of the current situation.
Because of that, he grabbed her rather more roughly than he meant to, jerking her up by the hair so that she squealed in pain. “Stand up, slut. Don't forget I owe you a punishment for your lack of control.” He pulled her toward him and kissed her on the mouth. He pulled away and slapped her cheek sharply. Jill gasped and brought her hand to her cheek.
"You need to pee, right slave girl?"
Jill nodded. Barry grabbed her arm and led her to the bathroom. Lifting the long silver chain from around his neck, he unlocked the
chastity belt. Jill sighed with relief as the tight metal band was removed from around her waist. She had to immediately cross her legs, as the urge to urinate was overpowering now. She tried to move toward the toilet but Barry stopped her.
"No. This is your punishment. You aren't going to use the toilet; you're going to pee in the bathtub while I watch you. Standing up. Go on, move."
She stared at her husband, embarrassed, but certain by his tone of voice that he meant it. She needed to pee too bad to protest, so she managed to sidle over to the tub, legs still crossed in a desperate effort to keep from having an accident before she got in. Once in the tub, her control was lost, and urine began to roll down her legs, and then a steady long stream hissed into the tub. Jill's face was red, but her relief was so profound she didn't care.
Barry watched her with satisfaction. His slut girl had been forced to hold her pee for hours because he wanted it that way. A plan had been forming in his mind, of slowly taking over all aspects of her life. She would become not just a sex slave, but a complete slave, one who would make no decision on her own, but would look to him for her every action, every thought. Intellectually he had been stunned upon realizing that he wanted something like this. He, who had been steeped in feminist propaganda since he was a little boy, and who had always agreed that men and women were equal and should be treated as such. How could he rationalize this desire to completely subjugate and control his wife with his entrenched beliefs about equality?
He had asked this very question to his new friend, Paul, who had answered that there was no conflict. He explained that when two people agreed to a voluntary exchange of power, there was total equality, since both parties wanted the exchange. He also pointed out that it wasn't about a man controlling a woman. It was about a dominant person controlling a submissive one. It could just as easily have been a woman wanting to dominate her submissive husband. It wasn't about equal rights, he explained, it was about sexual orientation, and the simple recognition of what we needed.
It was far more honest, and hence far more satisfactory to each party, to admit the need for control, and for loss of control. Indeed, he went on, the result, when coupled with love, is sublime. Barry had decided that Paul was something of a poet, and certainly a romantic, but he liked his explanations, as they soothed his own troubled conscience about what he wanted to do to his wife.
When Jill was done in the tub, Barry had her wash off and meet him in the bedroom. “Lie on the bed and spread your legs so I can see your pussy.” Jill lay down, eager and hopeful that her little cunt was at last going to get some attention. She wasn't disappointed, as Barry knelt down in front of her and began to give her teasing butterfly kisses with his tongue and lips. Oral sex had never been high on Barry's list, and Jill sighed deeply with pleasure as he continued to lick and fondle her. She felt her pleasure mount, and at just the right moment he slid a finger into her tight cunt and she arched up, moaning, one inch away from a delicious orgasm. Then the finger and the lovely hot mouth were gone. Jill opened her eyes, confused; needy.
"Hot for it, aren't you, slut?” Barry had stood up and was looking down on her, his hand on his own cock, which he released from his underwear, having quickly unzipped his pants. Jill nodded and started to move a hand toward her pussy. “Don't you dare,” he hissed at her. She looked up at him, surprised. She had thought he would want to watch her play with herself. “Put your hand down. You aren't going to come. Not now. Maybe later, if you behave. We'll have to see. Right now I want to talk to you. But first you need to take care of this, slut. Get down here and suck my dick so I can spurt down your throat. Get up."
"Barry,” she begged, holding out the second syllable in a petulant whine, but she got up from the bed and knelt before him.
"You'll learn,” he said quietly, as he forced his erect cock into her mouth. “You'll learn to never use that tone in my presence. You'll learn to never hesitate, not for a second, when I tell you to do something. Now suck my cock like the whore you are. Pretend it's the gardener, if you have to, but make it good.” Again the anger made him thrust a little too far into her throat, causing Jill to gag and try to pull away. But he held her in place and fucked her mouth until the pressure was too intense, too perfect, and then he came down her throat, holding her head still, forcing her to swallow before he let her go.
Rather than being upset or outraged by this rough treatment, Jill was more on fire than ever. She felt like she had to touch her pussy now; had to come or she would explode. She was breathing hard and her face was flushed with desire. Barry, who, once he had come, immediately began to have doubts about his aggressive behavior, saw the unmistakable lust in her eyes. The bitch wanted it! She wanted what he wanted. He felt something that could only be called glee course through his body.
He held out his hand, indicating that Jill should stand up. When she did, he caressed her sopping pussy for a moment, loving how wet and needy she was. Never before in their relationship had Jill been this wet. Never having known anything different, he had just assumed she wasn't a highly sexual person. Now he realized what a total slut she was, under the right conditions. But he had to know the extent of her willingness to submit. He had to hear it from her.
Lunch forgotten, they went to the living room where Jill waited while Barry retrieved the chastity belt from the bathroom. When she saw it in his hands, her face crumpled in dismay. She wanted to come so bad! “Wipe that bratty expression off your face!” Barry commanded, and he ignored her whimpers as he forced her to spread her legs and allow him to re-secure and lock the metal band around her waist.
When she was re-secured, access again denied to her sopping, aching pussy, Barry told her to kneel on the floor. He went to his briefcase and brought out a sheet of paper. Grinning a little sheepishly he said, “Guess once a lawyer, always a lawyer. But I've taken the liberty of drawing up a little contract."
"A what? A contract? What for?” Jill had no idea what he was talking about.
"Well, it's a slave contract, actually.” Barry blushed slightly. “Between master and slave, I guess, is more accurate. It outlines what my expectations are for you, and what I will expect from you. You don't have to sign it now. I want you to take your time and read it carefully. If you have questions or want changes, I want to hear them. This is going to be a voluntary exchange of power between us. But if you agree, I will expect you to obey completely, or suffer the consequences. Do you want that, Jill?” He tried to keep the pleading out of his voice, and realized as he waited for her to respond that he wanted this desperately. And a part of him knew that without it, their marriage would fail, sputtering to a dry and unsatisfying end, with neither of them living up to what he rather grandly thought of as their shared destiny. He waited, unconsciously holding his breath, while Jill took the piece of paper.
She looked at him questioningly. “You want me to sign this?” She hadn't said she wanted it, and maybe she didn't. He quelled his own disappointment, and told himself she just didn't understand yet.
"Yes, after you read it, of course. And if it seems like what you want. I want it, Jill. I want it with all my heart. I have to go back to work now.” Then Barry surprised his wife by leaning over and unlocking the belt. He carefully removed it and placed it in the velvet bag it had come in. He kept the key on his chain around his neck.
"I don't want to leave you in the belt too long,” he explained. “It will take some time to get used to it, and you've been wearing it enough today.” While he spoke, Barry inspected Jill's waist, hips and ass, as if she were some kind of horse or slave. Slave! He seemed satisfied that there were no abrasions or irritation to her skin.
"I'm trusting you, Jill. Take care of my body. And don't touch that pussy. Don't you dare. Read the contract. Take your time with it. Think before you sign. Think about what it means to give over control of your body, your actions, your soul, to another person. See what I offer in return. In fact, don't sign it, if you plan to, until I get home. We'll talk about it first
. And Jill,” he looked at her seriously, his heart on his sleeve, “listen, if this isn't right for you, I'll understand. I'll still love you. If you just want to incorporate a little S&M play into our sex life, I can live with that. I've laid it all out here for you; what I want. But it isn't written in stone, or blood. It has to be something you want too. Well,” he broke off, looking embarrassed, “I'm talking way too much. I have to get back to work. I'll see you tonight."
He kissed her and left the house quickly, not wanting to hear her response, not yet. Something about a contract, perhaps, the formality of it, had seemed to catch her unaware. He had prepared it rather quickly, a sort of fever overtaking him. He had culled much of it from various ‘sample slave contracts’ online. Not surprisingly, he supposed, there were many of these out there. But most of them seemed contrived, stilted. A game. He wanted this to be real. He wanted to outline for her what he saw as their relationship, or their potential relationship.
But perhaps he should have waited; maybe she felt rushed, and he had moved too quickly for her. That had always been a trait of his, to decide that he wanted something and then go after it with full speed ahead. It usually worked well for him; in his law practice it had earned him a reputation as a go-getter. And he'd married Jill after dating her for only a month, after all. That was a good precedent, at least. Calming himself, Barry drove back to work, images of his lovely wife left naked at home, his future held on a sheet of paper in her hands.
Jill walked back to the sofa and sat carefully, trying to ignore the steady aching pulse in her sex. Barry had misunderstood her hesitation. She wasn't tuned off by the idea of a contract, only surprised. It had never occurred to her to sign something promising obedience. As she thought it over, it sounded kind of exciting! He had taken the time to draw up a document (she smiled wryly to herself, wondering if he had dictated it to his secretary as he often did with his correspondence and legal documents) outlining how he wanted their relationship to go. It was kind of anal, she supposed—very Barry. But still it intrigued her, and she sat down to read.
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