The Enslaving of anna

Chapter 4

I threw the door open suddenly, half hoping she would be late or have forgotten part of her instructions. Frankly, I was itching for reasons to add to her punishment. But there she was, a lovely, nude vision of submissiveness, kneeling alertly up, holding a martini glass in one hand and my single-tail whip in the other. The black leather cuffs adorned her wrists and ankles, secured with little brass padlocks. The black dog collar circled her pretty neck, waiting to be leashed.

"Good evening, Master Daniel. It's nice to have you home."

I ignored her flawed greeting — she had yet to be trained for that — and inspected her thoroughly before accepting the martini. Eyes down, lips parted, freshly washed and made up. She had really made the effort. I praised her and her face lit up with happiness. But it wouldn't lessen the punishments she had earned for her earlier transgressions. Nor the ones she would soon be making.

I commanded her to follow me into the kitchen where I opened a bag I had brought with me and removed a heavy ceramic doggie bowl which I had purchased at a fetish shop. Instead of " DOG ," this bowl had the word slave painted on its side. I left it on the counter without comment to let its humiliating purpose sink in. anna had set up a place at the table for me and dressed it up with a candle. I went over to my chair and deliberately stood beside it. Waiting. Watching her.

She looked at me, puzzled, practically vibrating with a desire to please but clueless as to why I was standing there. She ventured a guess. Better to guess wrong than to ignore my darkening expression.

"Would you rather wine than the martini, Master?"

"No. But a good slave, anna," I remonstrated, "helps seat her Master at the table. No doubt you have been accustomed to having men perform this service for you. That will not happen any more. You are not a lady to be catered to by males. You are a slave whose function is to serve and please your Master. Right now I am not pleased."

"Forgive me, Sir," she stammered and hurried over to pull the chair out and slide it under me, a reversal of roles that had never occurred to her.

For the balance of the meal she made a tolerably good waitress. I kept her standing at attention in a corner where I could watch her, barking at her once when she began fidgeting, informing her she had just earned five strokes with a cane. That cured her fidgets. She swayed a little from the stress of holding still over long stretches but managed to avoid another misstep that would add to the caning.

When I was finished, I told her to bring in her bowl and set it on the floor beside my chair. She did so but her expression indicated she did not look forward to what was to come. I had left fragments of the roast beef and a little uneaten potato and broccoli on my plate, which I ordered her to scrape into the bowl. As with breakfast, she ate on her hands and knees, using only her mouth. As she did so, I put my hand between her thighs and drew a finger across her cleanly shaved cunt. She was wet. The fear and humiliation was making her hot. She had frozen at the touch of my finger, but I ordered her to finish her meager dinner while I continued to stroke her. Her hips twitched in response to my teasing and I found myself developing an urgent need to make use of that part of her that was slicking my fingers.

"Sit up!" I said as she licked up the last remnant of broccoli. As she rose to a kneeling position, I stood up, nudged her bowl aside with my toe and stood squarely in front of her. "Unzip me and take it out." She did so with characteristic gentleness, scrotum and all. The swollen crown was less than an inch from her face. "Lubricate it!" She worked her mouth a moment, then curled her lips around my stiffened shaft and sucked it in, bathing it in the warm pool of her saliva. Half a minute of that was all I dared allow because my lust was rising quickly and I wanted to spend some time in that sweeter valley below. I pulled out of her mouth and ordered her to stand up and bend over the arm of the captain's chair I had just vacated. The instant she was in the right position, I plunged in and worked her vigorously, noting with satisfaction her loud moans. As I reached the verge of explosion, I pulled out, moved around to the other side of the chair and forced my oozing member back into her mouth, shoving it deeply into her throat, making her gag. I came in a soaring rush, clamping her face tightly against me. She lurched uselessly in my grip, trying to breathe, trying to swallow the tide of cum that was pouring down her throat, the girth of my cock filling her mouth, making it difficult. When it was obvious she had started to vomit, I pulled out of her mouth and tucked a serving bowl from the table under her chin. She puked a handful of partly digested food creamed with semen into the leftover broccoli, then collapsed into a little heap. I stroked her head as she shook with a series of dry heaves.

"That was very good, anna. You serviced me well and didn't complain. I'm proud of you." It's always a good idea to praise a slave when she deserves it. It helps her to accept the torments of discipline and play which she both fears and desires. She looked up at me and smiled through the bitter taste of her own bile.

Her stomach was empty again and the acids left from her vomit would soon produce a raging thirst. All the better. Hunger and thirst would become part of the suffering I had planned for her this evening.

I watched as she cleaned up the dishes and washed off her face, but refused to allow her a drink of water to clear the fire out of her throat.

"Please, Master!" she whined. "Just a swallow?"

"No. You'll survive. Within a few hours thirst will be the least of your concerns."

I grabbed a clipboard from the office, attached a chain leash to anna's collar and walked around the house with her in tow examining the housekeeping she had done during the day, noting what was commendable and what was unacceptable. The list grew heavy on the latter side: dust on the floor moldings, stains in the tub and showers, spider webs in the ceiling corners, crumbs on the counter top, baked grease under the stove burners, dust on the library books. The list of inadequacies was a clear invitation to heavy penalties and anna was pale with fear by the time we finished.

"I'm so sorry, Master Daniel," she wailed. "I've never done housework before. I'll do better tomorrow, I promise!"

"I'm sure you will. Especially when you learn the price of your sloppiness." I pointed to a spot on the floor in front of my special chair. "Kneel up!" She fell to her knees and stayed at attention, her eyes down. But in her fear she forgot to keep her lips parted. I glared at her. "Don't move!" I went to the office and found a spiral bound notebook and pen which I brought back and handed to her.

"From now on you are to keep a daily log of all your offenses, including those you commit when I am not here. An extremely important part of your service, anna, is honesty, and by that I mean you must be honest with me in every way, about every aspect of your life and thoughts. Remember, if you are permitted to sign that contract, I will own not only your body, but your mind. Each evening without fail I will question you; and if you ever lie to me or fail to disclose the slightest infraction of the rules or improper thought, you will be severely punished. It will not be like play or routine punishments. You will suffer as you have never believed possible. Am I clear on that?"

"Yes, Master."

"I want you to write down all the offenses you have committed today, even the little ones for which I will waive punishment. To begin with, your outburst this morning about cleaning the carpet with your tongue as 'gross.' For that you will receive five strokes with the cane."

She wrote it down, suppressing any visible reaction.

"Next, you closed your lips this morning. And you are doing it again now. Five more strokes."

Her lips flew apart and her hand trembled a little as she wrote it down.

"You fidgeted while standing at attention during dinner. Five strokes."

Her eyes betrayed a growing apprehension as she recorded the sentence in the journal.

"That's a total of fifteen strokes with the cane. Many girls cannot remain conscious long enough to withstand that kind of pain. But don't worry; if you pass out, I will revive you and then continue the punishment." I let that sink in for a moment. Her face was white with fear. "Now, write down your other transgressions, the ones you committed while I was at work today. If you are totally honest, I may not add to your punishments. In fact, I may even offer you a way to escape some of the caning to which you have already been sentenced. So go ahead, write! And then read what you have written."

She licked her lips, no doubt partly because of nerves and partly because her mouth and throat were still burning from the residual gastric acid. She told of sneaking some cheese and Triscuits during the afternoon because she was so hungry, and of sitting

on a dining room chair to relieve an onset of back pain. She didn't think that chair counted as "furniture" because it's not upholstered. I clarified that point in a hurry, but let her off with a warning. She also admitted to having unkind thoughts about me for making her eat scraps out of a dog bowl, and several other improprieties. I was impressed with her unflinching honesty even as she trembled in fear of the possible consequences.

"You've done well, anna," I assured her, "and because you've been so forthcoming about your thoughts and misdeeds, I will pardon them all. Except, of course, those for which you have already been sentenced. Stand up and follow me!"

"Please, Sir! May I have something to drink first?"

"No. Get on your feet!"

I attached a leash to her collar and led her to the cellar door and down the stairs to the locked room I had forbidden her to enter. Obviously, without the key she could not enter anyway. The purpose of my admonition had been to call her attention to the fact that there was such a room, a subtle addition to her overall apprehensions. She'd had all day to worry about what terrible things might lie behind that door. I unlocked it and pulled her into the room beyond by her leash.

Her reaction, like that of all the females who enter that chamber, was a mix of excitement and dread. The room was large and filled with equipment that left no doubt as to its purpose. Three of the walls were brick with thick wooden beams imbedded into them in strategic places, the beams bearing iron rings, clamps sized to hold wrists and ankles, and a number of devilish instruments for which anna did not yet know the purpose. There were bins filled with metal pipes and bars, wooden poles and blocks, and the elements of disassembled devices she would come to know and fear. There were shelves laden with toys, some of which she would recognize, including dildos, butt plugs, anal beads, vibrators, canes, clamps, and candles. There was also an array of electrical devices with which she had yet to make personal acquaintance. A large pegboard was covered with an evil assortment of whips, floggers, chains, ropes, belts, clamps, handcuffs, ball gags, bit gags, masks, hoods, padlocks, hoses, quirts, crops, cuffs, leg-irons and much more. A variety of pads, plywood boards, buckets, small items of furniture, metal boxes and cages, saw-horses, pillories, stocks and yolks filled two corners. The ceiling twelve feet above us was a steel grid dripping with ropes, chains, hooks and pulleys like stalactites from hell. The concrete floor sloped gently to a drain near the back wall. The wall behind us as we entered was nearly filled with tall mirrors, visually doubling the size of the chamber while providing its helpless occupants an engaging view of their torments. Helpless occupants, to be sure, but not hapless. No submissive came into this room involuntarily. Scared witless, perhaps, but always because she had freely chosen to experience bondage, discipline and masochism. And they always came back for more.

"Wow!" anna breathed.

"I appreciate your expression of awe, slave anna, but you were not given permission to speak. Another five strokes."

She clamped her jaw shut, but was careful to keep her lips parted. "May I ask a question, Master?" she asked through her teeth.

"Yes, but make it brief."

"Will I ever be able to carry on a real conversation with you again? You know, talk about things, like we used to?"

"Of course. Once you have committed yourself to me as a slave for life, there will be times nearly every day when I will grant you the privilege of talking freely, as long as you do so respectfully. You are an intelligent woman. Intelligence is part of your beauty and I plan to make as much use of your mind for my pleasure as your body. Your brain is a vital part of your sexual being and, I assure you, I will neglect no part of your sexuality. However, until you sign that contract — assuming you prove acceptable — you are in training and will be held to a regimen of strict discipline as part of learning how to be a proper slave. It requires a concentrated effort on both our parts. You are a natural submissive, born for slavery, possessed of an innate craving to be used by a stern and loving Master. But if you are to enjoy the fulfillment of that destiny, you must learn to accept life as that Master dictates it to you. Including punishment, whether deserved or not, and no matter how severe."

As I talked I selected a rope from the wall collection and tied anna's arms securely behind her back, forearm to forearm, so that she would be unable to protect her ass from the cane. Then I pulled a kneeling bench from one of the corner piles. It was constructed like a church prayer desk with a low padded step to kneel upon, but in place of the desk was a leather-covered bench to support the belly as one laid across it. When she was positioned on it, I used two small belts to strap her knees together and then to the padded step. A third strap held her ankles together. Next I pushed her body down over the bench so that her ass was raised above her back, wound her long hair into a rope and tied it to a leather thong connected to the base of the bench, cinching it tight enough to make her whimper. She was now unable to make the slightest move without considerable discomfort. I selected a cane, a new supple one that would deliver intense pain.

"You are ready now for your punishment. You have earned a total of twenty strokes, including your most recent blunder. I will now extend to you that option I mentioned upstairs. If you wish, you may exchange half of your caning sentence for another type of punishment. Do you want to take the entire twenty strokes, or would you prefer to trade ten of them for a different punishment?"

"Please, Sir, can you tell me what the other punishment is?" She could not quite suppress the terror from her voice.

"No. You will find out when it's administered. Which shall it be? You have five seconds to decide, then the option will be gone. Five . . . four . . . three . . ."

"YES, YES!" she shouted. "I'll take it! Please! No more than ten strokes! Please!"

"Very well. You are to count each stroke aloud and thank me for it. Then you will ask politely for the next stroke. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

"Brace yourself."

As if she could. I could see her jaw muscles harden and her eyes squeeze shut, her anal sphincter tightening in anticipation. To maximize the frightful whistling of the cane through the air I took long swings, the flexing wood smacking loudly into her sensitive flesh.

The first blow made her jump and yell "Ow!" But she settled back and managed to gasp, "One! Thank you, Master."

"Now ask for the next one."

She cringed and took a few deep breaths. "Please, Master, give me another one."

From the third blow onward she screamed with every stroke, her body convulsing from the surges of pain. Angry red lines appeared on her rump and thighs like neon strips connected to a dimmer board, soon to puff into painful welts, cris-crossed by newer ones as her agony went on.

At the half dozen mark she was sobbing, but with an effort squeaked out, "Six! Thank you, Master." Then a long pause as she gathered her courage. "Please give me another, Master."

Seven!

Eight!

Her teeth were clamped so hard together I was afraid she might break one. Her responses between strokes became strained, barely intelligible. But she hung in there.

Nine!

Ten!

Finally it was over.

Her weeping continued for a good half minute, gradually easing into a ragged sniffling. The last of the ten stripes on her ass and thighs were swelling into nasty welts. God, she was magnificent! I was hard again. And there was more to come! I walked around to where her head was nearly pulled under the bench, held by her hair. Her eyes were still shut so I tapped her lips with the cane.

"What do you say, slave anna?"

It was several seconds before she could make her voice work again. "Thank you, Master," she croaked, kissing the cane, her breath shuddering.

"I'll let you rest a while before starting the second part of your punishment," I said. But her "rest" consisted of languishing in her bonds with her hair bound to the floor, the burning in her throat and the tearing at her scalp catching up to the pain of her badly inflamed posterior.

At the end of fifteen minutes she was more than ready to end her "rest." In fact, she begged me for it. Certainly, my dear. Let me help you out of the frying pan. I unbound her hair and removed the straps that held her legs to the kneeler, leaving her arms bound behind her and her knees and ankles strapped together. I picked her up and carried her to a small cage I had dragged to the center of the room. It was a cube, 25 inches to a side, constructed of thick black steel bands, horizontal and vertical, spaced about two inches apart. One side was hinged to open. I put anna on her side, folded her into a tight ball, thighs to chest, and forced her, butt first, into the cage, slamming the door shut and sealing it with a padlock.

"The balance of your punishment," I announced cooly, "is to remained confined in this cage for three hours. I will return periodically to check on you and to change the position of the cage. Unfortunately, you will find that no position remains tolerable for more than about ten minutes. After that, you must use your intelligence to find ways of coping."

"No! Please, Master . . ."

"Now it will be four hours. I can see that you really need some help to avoid these costly outbursts." I selected a ball-gag, opened the door, shoved it into her mouth and buckled its strap behind her head, making sure it was tight enough that she could not work the ball out of her mouth. She whimpered and looked at me piteously, but I closed and locked the door again and left her to drool precious strings of saliva that could have salved her parched throat. I kept track of her on the closed circuit TV system, enjoying her cramped writhing and listening to her cry from my lounger in the living room. Every half hour I returned and flipped the cage to a different side, which would end the torment to those parts of her body crushed against the bars under her weight, only to transfer it to other parts.

At the end of the four hours I released her from her ordeal. Staggering and mewling with thirst, she managed to stay on her feet as I pulled her up the stairs and into the kitchen where I allowed her to get down on her hands and knees and lap water out of her bowl. She was horrified when I led her to the bathroom and stood holding her leash as she used the toilet, but by now she knew better than complain.

Her final humiliation of the day arrived when she had finished her ablutions and I stood her beside my bed. Using padlocks, I attached one end of a six-foot chain to her collar and the other to the corner post at the head of the bed. Another chain of the same length connected her left ankle to the frame at the foot of the bed. Next I produced a large doggie bed — a woven basket with one side cut low and a puffy pad to accommodate your average pampered rottweiler — and placed it next to her. I added a blanket.

"Slave anna," I said warmly, "you've been a good girl and endured a lot this evening. Slavery becomes you, and I'm beginning to believe that you have what it takes to make that ambition come true. Therefore I'm granting you the privilege of sleeping in my room tonight on your own doggie bed. If you continue to improve, you will graduate to a palette. If you backslide, however, you will wind up sleeping naked on the hard floor with no blanket. Now bend over at the waist and put your hands on the floor."

I took her from behind one more time, deliberately slamming myself against her very sore bottom. She groaned and grit her teeth, but came so ferociously that her knees buckled. I held her up until I had emptied myself into her, then allowed her to lick my spent cock clean before I kissed her good night.