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(C)1996 by Tammad Rimilia
All the characters in this story are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, is purely coincidental. The names, incidents, dialogue, and opinions expressed are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.
I arrive at your place Friday afternoon after work. You usher me in and close the door behind me. This is the first time I've given myself to you for the whole weekend, and I'm filled with both excitement and fear about what is going to happen, what might happen. My stomach is filled with butterflies. Our eyes lock, and we just grin at each other for a long moment, thrills of excitement racing back and forth between us. When you speak, your voice is gentle but firm.
"Surrender to me" is all you say.
It is an order, not a request, and I feel a flock of butterflies flit through my stomach. More excited than scared, I take a deep breath, then softly respond "I give myself to you, completely. I am now your slave." I turn away from you, crossing my wrists behind my back, offering them to you.
You do not hesitate; the sound of handcuffs ratcheting shut fills my ears. Restrained, I let you turn me around again. You say nothing, but gather me in your arms and give me a long kiss. When you pull away, you tenderly say "You are now my slaveboy, for me to do with as I please for as long as I like. You aren't going to get free for a very long time. Is this what you really want?"
"Yes Mistress" I say, nodding my head enthusiastically.
"Good" you say, grinning. Unbuttoning my shirt and pushing it back down to my wrists, you say "You're wearing too much clothing, slaveboy." You tug off my shoes and drop my trousers and underwear to the floor, then grab some manacles from the closet. I become excited as you lock the manacles around my ankles, then a second set around my wrists, above where my shirt dangles off the handcuffs. You slide the cool firmness of a collar around my neck, locking it on. "You are now mine" you whisper fiercely, your eyes bright. I'm breathing deeply, incredibly excited by being exposed, wearing your collar and cuffs.
Fetching your key-ring, you return the handcuffs to your pocket, and collect up all my clothing, which you deposit into a heavy trunk in the floor of your closet. Looking up at me, you ask "Did you prepare the two envelopes for dinner?"
"Yes Mistress, the preparations are made, the envelopes are in my wallet" I reply breathlessly; this is the first time we'll be going out to dinner in the middle of a scene. I suspect that this weekend there will be a lot of "firsts" for us. You fish the two envelopes out of my wallet, then lock all my stuff inside the trunk. There is no key in evidence.
Almost purring, you say "I have taken all of your possessions from you, your car keys, your clothes, your wallet, and all your ID; you won't get them back any time soon. The key to the trunk is hidden, don't bother looking for it." My body trembles, causing you to grin. "You are now just a naked boy locked in very heavy manacles. There is no escape." You run light fingers over my chest, making me moan softly. You whisper "What are you?"
My voice catches. "I am your slave, Mistress".
"Not quite." You slide one hand down my body, squeeze my balls lightly, then hold them. "I'm not really interested in your cock anyway, but since by your own rules we can't have sex, you are not a man to me you are just a boy. A slave-BOY. Say it."
My breath catches in my throat. This isn't part of what we had discussed, but I see your point. I nod obediently and say "I am your slaveboy, Mistress." You squeeze a little harder until I'm groaning softly and squirming with discomfort. "Don't make that mistake again, or you'll regret it, boy."
"I won't, Mistress."
You pick up a trainer harness, and slip it over my head. "Enough conversation" you say, pulling the ball gag deep into my mouth. You pull buckles very tight, small padlocks close with metallic snaps. With a hand at the back of my neck you bend me forward, then start spanking my ass with vigor.
My soft yelps almost disappear behind the gag, my response more one of surprise than of pain.
You take a wooden paddle down off it's hook on the wall and loop one arm over my back, holding me in place as you hit even harder. I squirm and make noises behind my gag. The spanking hurts a lot more than I would have expected and I twitch and squirm a bit, but I don't pull away. After 50 smacks you stop and push me upright. "Stand by the TV and display yourself" you command, breathing hard.
My ass burning uncomfortably, I take small careful steps with my manacled feet. I walk slowly across your living room. When I get to the TV I turn, face forward, and stand tall. My feelings are jumbled, confused. I'm very turned on by being bound, but mentally hurting at the unexpected and unexplained spanking.
You laugh happily, walking towards me. "You don't know just how good you look boy, all manacled up like that, your flaming red ass muscles flexing as you walk. MMmmm!" You turn on the TV, select some music-video station and turn the volume down low. You amuse yourself by slapping my cock lightly, making it flop around. "All you males ever think about is your cocks. If you were all kept manacled and gaged when you weren't needed the world would be a much nicer place." Slap slap slap. "Don't you agree?"
I see the laughter in your eyes. I'm not sure I want to agree with what you just said, but I have no means to disagree, and the location of your hand is very threatening. I tilt my head to the side and give you a quizzical look, then nod my head once.
Your smile broadens. "You see my point? They've improved your disposition already, and you haven't had them on even five minutes yet." Slap slap slap. "Male anatomy is so silly looking. I don't want to look at your cock, I want to see your bright red ass. Go stand in that corner and reflect on the deficiencies of your reply to my question."
Taken aback, I start shuffling in my manacles towards the indicated corner. I cry out with shock and surprise from the really stinging blow you land on my ass. You continue to pummel me with the paddle as I shuffle rapidly towards the corner. These swats are different, they really hurt! You don't stop paddling me until my shoulders are touching the walls. You reach up to fiddle with the lights over the paintings hanging to either side of me, and I turn my head to watch as you focus the two high intensity beams on my back.
You grab my ears and wrench my head around until my nose is touching the juncture of the two walls. "You are being punished, you may not move. I want you to think about how much better the world would be if every politician who had been a bad boy during the day was treated just like I'm treating you."
I hear you move away. The paddle rattles a little when you hang it up, and I hear you retreating to your favorite chair. I imagine that your eyes are flitting back and forth between me and the TV. I think about your statement; in the case of politicians it's difficult to argue with. Other than the surprise of it, the paddling doesn't really bother me, but I'm very disappointed with myself for having earned myself a punishment so soon after having arrived. "And it's such an embarrassing punishment, too" I think to myself. "If she should open the front door everyone could see me here!" I can't decide if it would be worse if your visitors said something about my predicament, or just ignored me all together. I resolved to go along with whatever little fantasies you want me to agree to.
After a while you shift your attention to a partly read book, I can tell from the sound of pages turning. You are reading fast enough that I can't imagine that you are paying any attention to me, and that just intensifies my motivation to stay out of this damn corner. I stand quietly, wishing for your attention again. You turn page after page, ignoring both me and the TV completely. I'm glad for the music, it makes the waiting almost pleasant, although my ass is still warm and my feet are getting tired. The gag seems to have doubled in size, although I know that is an illusion. My jaw aches a little and I have to work hard to keep from drooling around the gag. It too has become part of the punishment I must endure. From the announcements on the TV I can tell that more than an hour has passed.
Finally you put the book down and stand. I hear your clothing rustle. "My romance novel is getting good, I'm getting more comfortable. I want you to imagine what I'm doing. Visualize me as I strip down to my underwear." I hear you settle back into your seat and recline back. "I've opened my legs wide. Can you picture it?"
I'm excited despite my inability to see you, and I nod my head yes, my imagination working overtime.
"I'm imagining how nice it would be to have your face in my crotch, using your captive slaveboy tongue to give me pleasure. You'd enjoy kneeling with your face in my crotch, wouldn't you?" Helplessly caught up in the moment I nod yes enthusiasticly. "I'm sliding one hand inside my underwear so I can play with myself. I want you to imagine that I'm running my fingertips over your chest, that I'm playing with your nipples. I want to hear you moaning with desire, and they better be genuine moans." Thinking mainly with my erection at this point I can very easily imagine your touch. The first couple of moans require a little acting but they serve to ignite my arousal, and my moaning deepens. I want you so badly!
You moan softly too, then whisper. "The locks on that gag are partly to keep me from doing something I shouldn't", arousal in your voice. "But if I can't have the use of your tongue, I sure as hell expect you to add fuel to my fantasies!" You pause for a moment, moaning again. "Besides, I can be much nastier when I'm frustrated. And you like it when I'm very demanding, don't you, boy? Look at me and answer honestly."
I turn to see you splayed out in the chair much as I had imagined you to be, a particularly evil grin spreading across your face. Blushing bright red in embarrassment, I nod my head yes.
You say "You look so cute when you blush", which only makes me blush more. I can smell your arousal from across the room. Your fingers move slowly, deliberately, until you are moaning openly with sexual arousal; my erection grows rock-hard again. On the verge of an orgasm, you stop. Rearranging your sopping wet underwear, you walk up to me. You reach around me on both sides to place your hands on my chest, lightly stroking my nipples. The bursts of excitement shoot straight from my nipples into my crotch, and I squirm and moan uncontrollably, having to work hard not to fall down, cursing the gag filling my mouth. "I want you" you hiss at me, "it's a damn shame that you are just a boy." The evil glint reappears in your eye. "Fortunately you are a slave boy, so I can do anything I want to you. Right now, all I want is for you to suffer like I'm suffering."
You tease me and arouse me, pressing my chest firmly into the corner whenever I buck or squirm, making me moan louder and louder until we are both glad that I'm gagged. My body is covered with sweat, and I'm so aroused that every touch makes me squirm. You exploit your advantage for long minutes.
Without warning you withdraw, leaving me feeling suddenly alone. "Turn around, boy." From inside the TV stand you remove a short bit of chain and a small padlock, in a moment it's looped tightly around the base of my cock and balls. "Another reminder of your slavery, boy. I know you could probably wriggle out of it, but you may not remove it without my permission. Do you understand?"
I nod my understanding. In just a moment I'll be wearing your collars around both my genitals and my throat.
"With this padlock around your manhood I claim you as a slave, not just for myself, but for all women." The lock closes with a metallic snap.
Huh? I wasn't expecting you to say that.
"Your face is like an open book, boy. Did you do your thinking assignment while you were standing in the corner?"
Blushing a little I nod my head yes, puzzled.
"You acknowledge that you are now a slave, and will remain so until I choose to release you? You acknowledge that I am your Mistress, your owner?"
I nod yes to both questions, uneasy about the direction this is going. "You acknowledge that a slave is in all ways subordinate to his Mistress, that a slave is in no way her equal?
It seems a bit grandiose of a definition of slavery, but I'm in no position to quibble and it feels basically reasonable, so I nod yes again.
"You acknowledge that all free women are sisters, equal to one another in the eyes of God?"
I see the trap, and I don't see any easy way out of it. Reluctantly I nod yes. "You seem unsure of your answer, slave. Do you wish to dispute my sisters' equality?"
Limited to only yes and no answers and facial expressions I know I don't stand a chance of splitting semantic hairs with you, and taken literally what you said was in fact true, so I nod my head yes.
"So to recap, you acknowledge that you are in no way my equal, and that my sisters and I are all equals."
I feel the jaws of the trap closing but I don't know how I can win. I nod my head yes again.
"You aren't just agreeing to avoid punishment, you really believe that, don't you? Think carefully, I hope you haven't been lieing to me...."
I'm caught. I choose the path of least resistance, and shake my head "no".
"Then the rest should be obvious. You acknowledge that whenever you wear your collar you are slave to all women, everywhere?"
This is a very scary turn of events, I hadn't bargained for being slave to anyone but you. This is coming awfully close to some of my limits. I'm not sure what to do, so I make no response other than to wrinkle my brow.
Your manner softens. "Don't worry, it will be our little secret. I probably won't tell anyone but my closest friends that you are my slave. Most women will never know that they could command you at will; as long as they don't know, it won't make much of a practical difference. But you'll know, you'll have to be constantly ready to serve, ready to obey any woman at any time, and it is that state of mind that I seek to cultivate in you. This is something that I'm really serious about. I'm not full-blown gynosupremicist, I just don't want males giving you orders. On the other hand, I want you to adjust your thinking in this small but important way. From now on I want you thinking of women as your Mistress, as people to be obeyed without question when they give you an order."
You stop to take a breath. "Now listen to this next part very carefully. This is my kink, I don't know why I want this, I just do, OK? It isn't so much the fact that it's all women that you are slave to, it's that you'll be obedient. Blind obedience, that's what I want, that's what does it for me. As long as it isn't illegal or outside your limits, I want you to obey every order that any woman gives you, even if following that order is to my own personal detriment. You understand that? I want you to acknowledge that you are slave to all women, and that you will obey without question or hesitation. Do you agree?"
My mind is in turmoil. This is no small thing you ask, yet if it is as important to your "kinky streak" as bondage is to mine I can understand why you want it so strongly. What you ask isn't doesn't seem all that unreasonable, considering how well tied up you've been keeping me, humoring my kinky streak. And I did agree to give up control to you, although you are changing the rules much faster and much farther than I would have ever expected. Plunging ahead before I can talk myself out of it I take a deep breath and nod my head yes.
"I see you nodding yes. You understand that this means you are now bound to obey any woman who isn't herself a slave. If a six-year old girl came into the room and said 'I order you to play doggie', you would, right?"
Wishing I could grit my teeth, I clench my jaw muscles and nod yes.
"Very good, another yes. You understand that if I take you to the mall and another woman orders you to help her, you have to help her, even if it makes you late for your rendezvous back with me?"
I don't like the sound of this at all, but it follows. I nod yes. "You also understand that I'll punish you for being late?"
I nod, sighing. Catch-22.
"Of course I'll punish you much much more severely if I find out that you didn't obey a direct order. That is a mistake you aren't likely to make more than once, I promise you." You look at me threateningly for a moment, a strange mix of sexual excitement and something else, something darker, vibrating through your being. "Being a slave isn't an easy task, and sometimes you are going to get punished no matter which choice you make. You can't please all the people all of the time. The trick comes when there are no good choices to take, selecting the one which is least wrong."
With a soft laugh you transform back into the person I know, and lean up to plant a kiss on my cheek. "But don't worry your pretty little head about that, dearest slaveboy. I intend to keep you on a very short leash when we go out. I'll look out for you, make sure that nobody tries to take advantage of you. You really don't have anything to worry about." You pause, and the darker vibrations return. "I want you to pledge on your sacred honor, with God as your witness, that you will treat every uncollared woman as your Mistress, that you will obey every order a Mistress gives you without delay, without checking with me, without questioning it. Do you so swear?"
This is getting really out of hand. Based entirely on your reassurances that it won't be an issue, now that I know how much it means to your kinky streak and your enjoyment, I decide to do what you ask. I nod "yes".
"Good boy!" you say excitedly, clapping your hands like a little girl. "This means so much to me! I really appreciate your doing this for me!"
You grin at me for a long moment, and my worries start to melt. Maybe this isn't going to be so bad, I think.
You run your fingertips down into your crotch. "I'm sopping wet! I need to change my panties!" Grinning at me some more you spread your legs and slide your fingertips inside the elastic. Soon your eyes are half closed and you are moaning softly. After working yourself up for a bit you suddenly pull your hand out, your expression is controlled and dark again. "Just remember, boy, as long as you wear a collar you are slave to half the inhabitants of the planet. I know that sometimes it may be difficult for you, so we'll go over this again until it is second nature to you. And there will be tests. Every minute of your life will be a test, but I'm confident that you'll do well. Or else."
I'm curious about what the 'or else' entails, and am at least partly glad that the gag keeps me from opening my mouth and getting myself into more trouble. I can tell that this is not a good time for questions. You turn and head up the stairs, then stop on the second step and turn back to face me. "Oh, one more thing. If a woman asks you what you are, you don't just reply that you are a slave, you reply that you are her slave. Regardless of how embarrassing it might be for you, you will answer all questions put to you by a woman honestly and politely. And if two orders conflict, you will obey the most recent one. Do you understand?"
Resigned to playing this through to the end now, I nod my head yes. Suddenly this long fun weekend of bondage has filled with all manner of unexpected perils.
You come back downstairs in a few minutes, returning with fresh underwear on and several coils of coarse brown rope and a flat box; you look more in control of yourself now. "Suck in your stomach as far as you can" you say, then begin winding a loop of the brown rope into my waist, pulling it impossibly tight with each turn. Every three turns you knot it, preventing any relief. I hold my manacled hands up, trying to stay out of the way. After nine loops you tie the ends off and cut away the excess. Breathing is more difficult already, and the rope burns into my middle from the bottom of my rib-cage to the top of my hip-bones.
Smiling your evil smile but still saying nothing, you fold another piece of the brown rope in half and tie knots in it. Passing it over my head, you run it down through my crotch and up to the loop in the end; within moments I am tightly laced into a Japanese style rope harness, the lacings pulled so tight that my chest can't expand much, forcing me to take only shallow breaths. The sensations from the tight bondage are exquisite, wonderfully close and confining. I squirm in it, exploring, enjoying.
"You aren't done yet" you say, your evil grin broadening. You loop a short piece of rope carefully around my scrotum, above my balls, then pull it back between my legs, tying the ends off at mid-back. There is no tension on the rope, but it's presence worries me.
You run your hands lightly over my body, exploring your handiwork, the tightness in some places already enough to make me gasp through my nose when you probe there. The smell of your arousal has returned, as has your evil smile. "You are a very nicely packaged slaveboy." Patting my erection you say "I can tell you like it. Cocks never lie."
I blush and nod. The bondage feels wonderful, surrounding me and holding me tight, and I'm enjoying it thoroughly. This is more like what I've been hoping for!
"You blush so prettily" you say, kissing me on the cheek. Stepping back, you playfully say "What are you? Are you my slave?"
I nod an emphatic yes.
You smile. "A little enthusiasm! That's more like it! Yes dear boy, you are my slave. Are you every woman's slave?"
I knew it was coming, and I nod yes, but I just can't get as excited about that as the prospect of being your slave, and I can tell from the change in your expression that it showed.
"What? Not as much enthusiasm for me when I'm lumped in with all the other women? That isn't right, you need to treat us all equally. We are all your Mistresses now." You point imperiously to a chair. "Bend over the back of that chair."
Startled, I shuffle over to the overstuffed chair and lean forward, already dreading how vulnerable and exposed my ass is. I try to maintain my balance, but standing at right angles with all the ropes and manacles is too difficult, and I drop my forehead to the cushion.
You take your heavy wood paddle down from it's hook on the living room wall and take up position beside me. "Your answers just now were sluggish and not sufficiently enthusiastic. And your answers earlier were terrible. I won't stand for such behavior, boy. Any time you slack off, you can expect to feel the paddle."
Without further preamble you begin paddling my ass. Already on the tender side, this paddling is much more painful than the last one. Worse, with my every move the coarse ropes dig and scrape against my skin. Soon my torso is enveloped in a network of anguished skin almost as painful as my well paddled ass. The paddling is starting to get to me, and I whimper softly in my throat. This seems to be a signal to you; you hook your hand into some ropes and pull my head up off the cushion.
"Are you my slave?" I nod yes with enthusiasm. "Are you every woman's slave?" I nod yes with equal enthusiasm. You let go and swat me five really hard ones, and I grunt loudly but wordlessly into my gag at each one. "Not good enough!" you declare hotly. "Are you my slave?" I go crazy nodding my head. "Are you every woman's slave?" I nod wildly again. "Do you love being a slave?" I nod wildly again, hoping to avoid any more paddling. "Will you obey every order given to you by a woman?" I nod my head wildly. You snort. "I don't believe you. Five more for that. But I know you'll work hard to prove it to me, won't you, slave?"
What can I do? I nod my head wildly again, and then cry out into the gag when you hit me harder than ever before. You go slowly, spacing them out, making each one sear it's way into my soul. Before my wimpers have subsided from the final stroke you command "Back into the corner. I'm disappointed in you, you should have done better than that."
Stung, I hasten back over to the corner and press my nose against the junction. I can't decide whether you were displeased about my earlier replies, about my nodding now, or about how I took the paddling. I do know that my ass burns like fire and that having to stand in the corner is both humiliating and boring. You say "Stay right there while I dress for dinner" and ascend the stairs.
Alone again, I stand and squirm slowly, exploring the play in my new ropes; there isn't much, and the coarseness of the rope discourages motion. I can feel that the tight strands have pulled into my skin in a dozen places and I know that soon the burning will become intense. The strands through my crotch are already uncomfortable. I hear the shower running upstairs. I stand in my corner, wrapped in a cocoon of suffering. I repeat "I am every woman's slave, I am every woman's slave" over and over. Everything seems very surreal.
You return in a surprisingly short time. Standing behind me you admire your handiwork. "Your ass is a beautiful shade of red. You'll be feeling that for a while, and every time it hurts I want it to remind you that you are now a slave to all women." I nod vigorously. "I liberate you from the corner."
I turn and hum my delight deep in my throat. Your outfit is at once elegant, striking, and sexy. You have on skin-tight black leather slacks with no pockets; it looks like it was spray-painted on. A dark Burgundy half-blouse that leaves your midriff bare, with knotted ends hanging down. A thin black velvet choker around your neck, black heels, and a small black purse. Turning, you display yourself for me, and I can't help notice how far up into your ass the slacks have risen.
Smiling sweetly at me, you ask "Do you like?" I nod enthusiastically. "Good" you purr. "I'm sure you've noticed that I don't have any underwear on. Since you're just a boy I didn't think I had anything to fear from you." That one hits home, and I groan with frustration, which only makes your smile get even bigger.
"Now it's your turn to get dressed. I have some presents for you." You crouch down and open the box, arising with a pair of flaming-red silk boxer shorts in your hands. "The color matches your ass cheeks perfectly. I like!" You slide them across my arm, making me hum with excitement. "Since I'm not wearing any for you, it seemed fitting for you to wear something sexy for me. Imagine what these will feel like sliding over your cock?" It isn't clear to me how you are going to get them onto me. You solve the mystery by yanking on the seam and tearing them in half. "Velcro" you say, laughing. Sliding the one piece through my legs, you Velcro the sides shut, and suddenly I'm wearing underwear! Very soft sensual underwear that seems to move with a mind of it's own. I'm both aroused and hurting, and I can't stop myself from moaning and squirming while standing in place, which you delight in watching.
Then you put a matching red silk robe over my shoulders, and belt it loosely at my waist; it comes down only to mid-thigh, barely covering the boxers. I note that the sleeves have been removed and the holes sewn shut; this robe can only be worn with my arms on the inside of the robe. The fact that you would permanently modify the robe like that before giving it to me suggests that you are planning on keeping my arms restrained on a routine basis. That sounds like fun to me, but I'm worried about the tear-off shorts. With a single tug you can strip me bare, and that makes me nervous because I know you well enough to know that you'll be doing it to me. The only question is when and where. A shiver dances up and down my spine.
I'm also getting very nervous about what comes next; I'm technically street-legal, but with my collar, trainer-gag, and ankle manacles showing I'm hardly what anyone would consider "decent". And who wouldn't turn to look at such bright red cloth? The prospect of being out in public dressed like this scares me silly.
You press yourself against me, hugging me close, murmuring in my ear "You are the most exquisitely desirable slaveboy I've ever laid eyes on" you whisper, slowly grinding your crotch into mine until we are both moaning with frustration. You kiss me around the gag and murmur hotly "I promise to take you to dinner just like this" you say.
I gasp with fear, and consider safewording.
Grinning, you whisper "I like scaring you, and I can tell that the idea of going out like this scares you. I do promise that one day you will.
THE END
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