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  • Summer Slave Ch. 01

Summer Slave Ch. 01

Copyright ©1995, Ethan Grey rights reserved by the author. Do not repost without the consent of the author. This file may not used for any commercial or institutional purpose or reproduced in any form whether physical or electronic without the written consent of the author. Individuals may download this file for private, noncommercial use only. Removal of this header constitutes a violation of copyright.

PROLOGUE

I called her before I left the office on Friday afternoon.

"Hello," she answered

"Hello, slut."

"Oh, Master, I'm so glad you called. How are you? When do you think you'll get here?"

"I'm fine. I'll be leaving in just a few minutes. Two hours . . . that'll make itabout 7:15. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Master, I can't wait."

"Good. What are you wearing?"

"Nothing, Master, as you directed."

"Nothing?"

"Just the collar, Master."

"Fix some sandwiches and a salad for dinner, then put on your "uniform" and wait for me in the living room."

"Yes, Master."

"Bye now. See you in a couple hours."

"Bye, Master. I love you."

"I love you too, slut." Click.

We were living apart that summer. She was finishing her degree at the university, and I had gotten a job in another city, about a hundred miles away. We decided that she was to be my slave for the summer. That sounds a little strange, since I was going to be in another city most of the time, but would allow us to keep up the scene for an extended period without the pressure of maintaining our Master and slave roles full time.

The ground rules were pretty straightforward: she could go about her daily business as usual. Her classes, her workouts at the athletic center, getting together with friends, were not to be affected by her slavery. When she got home, though, and full time on weekends, she was under my orders.

She was to always address me as "Master." She was to recognize that she was a nameless slave, and I'd call her whatever I pleased, but never her name.

In our apartment, she was to always wear her collar, a one inch wide black leather dog collar that I had gotten her the previous Christmas, and nothing else. She was so comfortable with nudity, though, that simply having her stay naked didn't seem like a sufficient reminder to her of her slavery. She had always slept nude, and preferred nude beaches and an all-over tan.

We decided that she would also keep her pubic hair shaved. The morning after I had shaved her the first time, she stood drying her hands after washing dishes. She wore only the collar. I asked how it made her feel.

"Naked," she said with a chuckle and tossed her head, her straight red-blonde hair swinging around her shoulders. "And proud. I may be a slave and a slut, but I'm YOUR slut."

The whiteness of the newly shaved triangle was such a contrast to the deep tan elsewhere that her cunt almost seemed to glow. Her private parts were now a much more prominent part of her anatomy; just the effect I had intended.

On the way into town, I stopped at my favorite adult shop to get a surprise for her. They had the new issue of "Naked Bondage" on display so I picked that up, then went back to the toy corner.

They were hanging between the ball gags and a display of vibrators: two alligator clips connected by about eight inches of fine chrome-plated chain. The teeth were covered with plastic, and each clip had a screw to adjust the opening and pressure. We already had one pair of similar clamps, but these were slightly smaller. Exactly what I was looking for.

* 

Chapter 1

WELCOME HOME

My stop at the adult shop made me a few minutes late. I unlocked our front door at 7:30. She was kneeling, face to the carpet, about eight feet directly in front of the door. Anyone walking by in the breezeway could have easily seen her through the open door. In front of her spread knees, in a bucket of ice, was a bottle of Korbel champagne and beside it a single champagne glass.

"Up." I said, closing the door behind me and setting down my overnight bag.

She swung her body upright and looked me in the face. Her knees were spread wide apart on the carpet and her cunt positively beamed at me.

"Slut, you just might be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She had gone far beyond my orders to demonstrate her submission. The "uniform" I had told her to wear was her minimal "slave around the house" restraints: her collar, matching wrist and ankle cuffs, and two twelve inch chromed chains connecting wrist-to-wrist and ankle-to-ankle. She was able to do housework in the uniform, but just barely.

She had started with the uniform, but cuffed her wrists behind her without the separating chain. Her leash was tied around a post that supported the stereo stand and clipped to her collar. She had inserted her favorite gag, a short rubber penis on a black leather strap. And she was wearing our original, larger, set of alligator clips, one on each nipple. The screws were backed all the way out, so she felt the full pressure of the spring-loaded teeth. I knew that with the clips applied like that her nipples soon went from painful to unbearable to numb. She smiled at me, if it's possible to smile around a gag that big.

I untied the leash from the post and said, "You may rise."

She bowed face down again, her hair dragging the floor, then slowly struggled to her feet.

I removed the gag first, reaching behind her to pull the strap through its rings.

"Thank you, Master." She was breathless, almost whispering, with a slight, brittle edge of pain in her voice.

"Do you want me to take off the nipple clamps?"

"If it pleases you, Master." The exact, correct response.

I was overwhelmed. She had always been enthusiastic about our games, but never before had she thrown herself so totally into submission. I had been gone only five days, but in that time, it seemed that she had determined to become the perfect slave.

I quickly squeezed open a clip, releasing her left nipple. "Ssssssss." She sucked air between her teeth, grimaced. The beginning of tears appeared in her eyes. I squeezed the other clip and dropped both in the floor with their chain. "Ssssssss, oooooohhh." The sucking turned into a faint cry as her knees buckled and she slid down my legs to the floor.

"Thank you, Master," she gasped. "I..I..I..I just came." She leaned against my knees and with her lips gently caressed my penis through my pants.

"Will you stop that?"

"It doesn't please you, Master?"

"It pleases me just fine, but I need to get settled in."

"Yes, Master, how may I help you?"

"Get up."

Again, she bowed face down to the floor and struggled shakily to her feet. Grabbing her shoulders, I spun her around and unclipped the wrist cuffs from behind her back.

"Chain your wrists in front, then unpack my bag."

"Yes, Master." As she bent down for my overnight bag, still sitting next to the front door, she positioned herself to make sure I had a clear view of her anus and her shaved cunt from the rear. With tiny, shuffling steps, she took my bag to the bedroom. I swatted her ass lightly with my hand as she passed.

I picked up the champagne in its bucket and the single glass. I crossed the room and sat on our sofa, then for the first time since arriving, looked around the room.

The apartment was small, with a twelve by sixteen living room separated from a minimal kitchen and dining area by a counter. A short hallway led past the bathroom to our bedroom and a second bedroom we used as an office.

She had pulled the coffee table back against the front window by the door in anticipation of our games. She also knew that she would serve as my coffee table for the weekend, holding or retrieving anything I desired.

Just in front of the coffee table, she had laid out every bit of our bondage clothing, toys and devices in neat rows, sorted by type and use. And she had added some household items that she thought might be useful. There were gags, both purchased and homemade. There were straps and harnesses, a black satin corset, a red and black half-bra, several neat coils of rope in various lengths and a brand new package of clothes pins. There were a variety of dildos, vibrators and plugs. There was a set of spreader bars, homemade from dowels and screw eyes; a couple whips, a short leather cat and one of knotted nylon cord, and a pink plastic fly swatter.

She soon shuffled back into the hallway, her hands now connected in front of her by a twelve inch chain.

"Get a saucer from the kitchen, then come here."

"As you wish, Master."

Her movement across the room was slow, almost painfully so, but the sight of her, nude and hobbled, as she attempted to scurry to do my bidding was worth any delay.

"On your way back, turn on the radio."

"Yes, Master."

When she returned, I had her kneel facing me about two feet in front of the sofa. My feet were on the floor between her spread knees.

I opened the bottle of champagne with a loud "pop" and poured myself a glass.

"Hand me the saucer." She bowed face down to the floor and held the saucer over her head in both hands.

I took the saucer from her and filled it with champagne. Handing it back to her I said, "Put it there," and pointed at the floor between my feet.

"No hands," I ordered.

She leaned down and lapped champagne from the saucer like a cat.

"How long did you wait there for me?"

"Since ten till seven, Master." She looked up at me from the saucer.

"So long, slut? You knew I wouldn't be here till at least seven fifteen." She had knelt there, alone in silence, with those clamps on her nipples for almost forty five minutes.

"I didn't want to take the chance that you would get here and I wouldn't be ready."

"Thank you, my slave. I'm impressed by your devotion. How has your week been?"

"Wonderful, Master . . . and lonely. My classes aren't too awful, but I really miss you. Being a collared slave, you know, naked all the time, and my shaved . . . my shaved . . . "

"Cunt, slut."

"My shaved . . . cunt, Master. It's, well, refreshing. You know I'd just as soon be nude most of the time anyway, but this is different."

"Why different?"

"Because it's for you, Master."

She bent down again to lap more champagne.

"My shave did cause a bit of a stir at the athletic center."

"It did?" I feigned shock.

"In the shower and locker room. Some of the girls were . . . surprised. I was SO embarrassed. I told them I have this tiny bikini, and sort of got carried away, but I don't think any of them believed me."

"Tell them the truth." I grinned. "It's your badge of submission."

"Master, I couldn't do that." She lowered her head, attempting to hide a blush.

"None of them would believe it anyway."

She had licked the saucer dry by then, and I had emptied my glass.

"Get our salads, slut."

"Master, I ate earlier. I wanted to devote my full attention to serving you. And, I was hungry. I'll bring yours right now."

"I guess that's an adequate explanation. Go!" I slapped the inside of her thigh, hard.

She bowed and rose, much easier now that her hands were in front. She shuffled back to the kitchen with tiny steps. I heard the refrigerator open and close. She returned quickly, her ankle chain jangling on the floor as she walked.

I had her kneel as before and hold the salad bowl in front of her. Her hands served as my table while I watched her and ate in silence. I couldn't take my eyes off her. A proper slave, head bowed, she didn't see me taking in every bit of her with my eyes: the cascade of blonde hair, the way her deep brown nipples on tanned breasts hung above the bowl and her outstretched hands, her trim stomach, muscular legs splayed wide apart on floor, the white triangle of her shaved cunt.

I loved her and she knelt before me in service and submission. I was excited. I could have pushed her back on the floor and taken her then and there, but I knew we would both be more satisfied later if I did not. I was a very happy man.

She served me my sandwich, a roast beef and swiss on rye, the same way.

While she took the dirty dishes to the kitchen, I poured her saucer full and filled my glass with the last of the champagne. When she returned, she lapped up the champagne greedily, while I sipped mine.

"That's right," I teased, "get all you can now. You won't be drinking again for a while. Do you think I should whip you till my arms get tired?"

"If it pleases you, Master."

"But does it please you, cunt?"

"Yes, Master," she whispered, looking down at the floor.

"What, slut?"

"Yes, Master." Much louder this time.

"What pleases you, slut? Look at me."

She slowly raised her head to look into my eyes. "It pleases me that you would whip me until your arms get tired, Master."

"Are you sure, cunt? I think I'll just hang you up in the closet and go to bed."

"No, Master. Please. Please whip me." She leaned down to wrap her arms around my leg, and kissed and licked my shoes.

"I don't think you really want it, slut."

"Oh, yes, Master, please, please whip me," she gasped between licks. "I beg you. Whip me."

"Where do you want to be whipped, slut?"

"All over Master. Whip my whole body, Master."

" Where exactly, slut?"

"My back, Master, and my ass."

"Show me."

She turned and knelt face down, her gorgeous tanned ass spread toward me.

"See, Master? Whip my back and my ass."

"Where else?"

"My legs. You see my legs, Master." She stretched her legs out straight, raising her ass high in the air with her face still to the floor.

"And my feet. Whip my feet." She dropped back to her knees and kicked her feet behind her.

"Very good, slave. And the other side?"

She turned back around to face me and cupped her breasts in her bound hands. "My tits, Master. Whip my tits hard." I still have not met a woman who can enjoy, or even tolerate, as much breast pain as she did.

"And my belly, Master. Whip my belly and my thighs." She ran her hands slowly up and down her body.

"And, Master, please, please whip my cunt." She leaned all the way back, her head to the floor. Her spread thighs opened her sex wide.¨

"Whip my cunt, Master." She spread her cunt lips with her fingers. "Whip my cunt. See, I'll spread it for you, so you can whip it inside."

"If you want it so badly, of course I'll whip you."

"Yes, Master, I beg you, Master."

"From your neck to your toes."

"Please, Master."

"Let's see . . . We'll need the eighteen inch and thirty inch spreader bars, the red ball, and the Ace bandage for a blindfold. Bring them to me."

She swung forward, touched her forehead to the floor and started to rise.

"Crawl," I said.

She dropped back to her hands and knees and crawled to the toys she had arranged so neatly in the floor. She crawled directly away from me, making sure that I again had the best possible view of her asshole and shaved cunt.

She looped the blindfold, a four inch by five foot strip of stretch fabric, loosely around her neck and gathered the bars and ball in her hands. Grasping the ball in one hand and the bars in both, she tried to turn on her knees and knuckles to return. She dropped the ball three times before she got turned all the way around. It was just too big to grasp along with the bars and try to knuckle walk as well.

"If you can't carry that ball, I guess you'll just have to wear it."

"Please, no, Master."

"What was that?"

"Please, Master. I know I'll have to wear it, but not so soon. Please," she whined.

"What, slut? I've had an awfully long day and . . . "

"Yes, Master. If it pleases you, Master," she acquiesced with a tone that meant "If you insist, Master, but I won't like it."

She grabbed the red rubber ball in one hand and forced it slowly into her mouth. If the penis was her most favorite gag, this was her least. It was just slightly smaller than a tennis ball. She said it made her jaws sore. Once it passed her teeth, she was unable to push it out with her tongue. It could be pulled out with difficulty, but it easily stayed in without a strap. I could see a large circle of red rubber between her open lips and teeth.

"Much better."

"Unnh, unnh." She shook her head.

"Well, bring them here."

She crawled to me on knuckles and knees. Again kneeling by my feet, she handed me the bars and blindfold.

"Thank you, cunt." I set them on the sofa beside me. "I'll also need about three feet of chain and the little rope whip. Go."

She bowed to the floor and turned on her knees to crawl back across the room.

"On your belly, slave." She dropped to the floor and squirmed the remaining six feet to the array of goodies. Face down, she pulled a chain and the whip to her. Chain in one hand and whip in the other, she writhed back to me across the carpet with exquisite slowness.

She again positioned herself at my feet and handed me the whip and chain. I set the chain aside and flicked the whip at her left tit.

"Unh." She barely flinched away from the blow. It wasn't much, as whips go, just four two-foot strands of nylon cord with knotted ends and a coiled cord handle. It stung more than anything else, but it did sting, a lot. With it I really could punish her until my arms grew tired without doing any lasting damage, but she'd certainly know she'd been whipped.

"Stand."

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