Katherine Blackman is bored. She stumbles across the world of online BDSM and dives in enthusiastically without thinking of the consequences. In the same cyber world slave trainer Master M needs a new challenge. He decides to see if he can take a mature, worldly, intelligent woman with no BDSM experience and transform her into the perfect sex slave. He spots his ideal victim and begins his preparation.
Kitty slowly came to; the first thing she realised was that she couldn’t see. There was a tight blindfold over her eyes, which allowed no light through. The second realisation was that she was cold and naked and could not move her hands or feet but, before that could fully sink in, the awful third realisation hit—she was going to be sick and her mouth was firmly covered with some sort of tape. Kitty tried to hold back but it was too late. She heaved and her mouth was full of sour liquid. She spluttered, tried to swallow but retched again instead. Suddenly, half the tape was ripped from the middle of her cheek and her mouth was uncovered, releasing the first mouthful of vomit and thesecond of acid bile together. She heaved again and again, until her stomach was empty. She felt fingers lift the side of her face that was lying on the prickly blanket and the rest of the tape was pulled free. She had only felt relief at not choking when the first half had come off, but now the sharp pain bit and Kitty
opened her mouth to scream. Or she would have done if a thick metal bar had not been forced into her mouth and secured tightly behind her head. It forced her tongue down and her lips apart and reduced any sound to a pathetic gurgle.
‘Can you believe it?’ came a man’s voice from above her, ‘I stop this miserable bitch from drowning in her own puke, and all the thanks I get is a sorry little ‘yelp for help’.’ Unbelievably the man sounded genuinely aggrieved. ‘Well, it’s your puke, so you can lie in it.’ Kitty felt his foot against the back of her head and he pushed her face forward into the sticky, warm, puddle of liquid she had just spat out. The rancid smell turned Kitty’s stomach again, but this time the vomit just trickled out of the side of her mouth and added to the pool.
The van seemed to moving at a steady pace but, not knowing how long she had been unconscious and being in complete darkness, Kitty had no sense of time. After a while it slowed and bumped across rough ground for a few minutes and then stopped completely. The engine was switched off. A woman’s voice from a little way off said,
‘Do you want to take her in now, Boss?’
‘No,’ said the man, ‘She can stay here and chill whilst we have a look round.’
The side door opened and a cold draft swept over Kitty’s body.
‘Back soon, whore. Don’t go anywhere.’
The man said calmly, his harsh laugh echoed by the woman. The door swished shut and Kitty heard the driver’s door open and then bang shut. Two beeps told her the alarm system had been activated. Kitty lay still for a few moments to make sure they had gone, desperately trying to quell the terror that threatened to paralyse her mind. Kitty took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She was lying on one side with her hands tied behind her and her feet were bound together. Her hands were not joined to each other at the wrist but instead bent at the elbow with each wrist bound to the opposite lower arm and the rope then passed up and secured above the elbow. She wriggled; there was a little 'give' in the rope but nowhere near enough for her to do anything other than stroke the rope with the back of her fingers. She tried shouting, but even in the silence that surrounded her, she knew the muffled noise that made it past the gag would not be heard unless someone was standing right next to the van. Trying to ignore the now-cold vomit stuck to her face and hair, she slowly scooted herself off the blanket and onto the cold metal of the van floor. Only then did she realise her feet were not just tied together but that a rope joined the shackles on her feet to those at her elbows, effectively stopping her from kicking out. It had been loose whilst she had been lying still but now tightened up and made her shuffling, sideways movements painfully slow. Not quite sure of a plan, Kitty inched towards what she guessed was the rear doors of the van. When her nose touched the doors she took a steadying breath, drew her head slowly back and hit the door as hard as she could with her forehead. To her amazement there was a swoosh as the door was no longer there and her head fell out into the cold night air, and straight into a wall of smooth, warm fabric and a hard metal button.
‘Look, Maisie! She’s so desperate for my cock that she went straight for it—like a fucking homing pigeon!’ A voice from above her said.
To her horror, Kitty realised her face had fallen into the man’s crotch. She could feel his penis through his jeans against her nose and mouth. He grabbed her hair and lifted her head back, painfully stretching her neck. ‘You’ve got to work a lot harder for that privilege, slut.’ Still holding her hair, he reached down and pinched one nipple, then the other—hard. They were scrunched up from the cold but the pain sent a hot poker of pain through her breasts and up into her brain. Kitty groaned.
Ignoring her, the man said, ‘How are the new night vision glasses, Maisie?’
‘Great,’ said the woman’s voice from the far end of the van, ‘I could almost see what she was thinking! Still, she didn’t panic and hurt herself, which means she’s perhaps not as stupid as some of them. Where did you get the glasses? They are much better than the standard Army issue crap.’
‘Chinese. Standard Army issue.’ The man replied with amusement in his voice. There was a snort of laughter and the driver’s door opened and closed again. Squatting down, the man drew level with Kitty’s upturned face,
‘You see, kitty, not everything is as it seems. You might think you’re alone but I will always be with you.’
He dropped her head back onto the van floor and then grasped her around the waist. He lifted her in a smooth movement and swung her easily over his shoulder, her feet in the air and her head pointing towards the ground. Kitty felt her bare nipples graze against his leather jacket and an involuntary shudder of arousal shot through her body, totally at odds with the abject fear swirling around her mind. She felt the warmth of her surroundings as they moved from the cold night air into a building, which smelt of wood smoke and feminine perfume. After a few steps she was lowered onto her back onto a smooth, hard, surface.
Kitty’s hands were trapped uncomfortably underneath her and the rope was pulling her ankles up towards her body so that her knees were in the air; effectively she was in a kneeling position but on her back. Hands pulled her body forward until her heels slipped off the end of whatever it was supporting her and rested on a round, narrow, cold bar and her buttocks teetered on the edge of the surface. She could feel the edge at each side of her with her elbows and realised that if she lifted her heels from the bar she would slide forward. The man’s voice confirmed her precarious position.
‘Listen carefully, Kitty. You are on a high, narrow counter so if you try to move you will fall onto a very hard floor and whichever bone—your skull, hip, knees or shoulder—hits the floor first will break. And I WILL let you fall. Do you believe me, kitty? Nod for yes.’
Kitty faintly nodded, fearful of moving an inch.
‘Good girl.’
An image flashed into Kitty’s mind—her cottage had a tall narrow wooden breakfast bar which separated the open-plan kitchen and the living room. It had a brass towel rail at one end and the floor was tiled with hard slate. She moved her fingers as best she could on the surface beneath them. Wood. Kitty’s attention snapped back as the man placed a hand on each of her knee and said,
‘Open your legs, kitty.’
She instinctively clenched her buttocks together and pressed her legs tightly together.
‘Kitty, that was an order, not a question. Now open!’
His hands left her knees and she felt him grasp the tender flesh at the back of her thighs with his fingers. He pinched and twisted the skin and muscle so hard she gasped in pain and opened her legs immediately. Anything to stop the agony, she thought. But he didn’t stop.
‘Wider, slut.'
Kitty forced her legs as far as they would go. The pinching stop but the tortured flesh burned and throbbed.
‘Over here for a second, Maisie,’
he said calmly. Kitty cringed, suddenly realising that the woman was still here and that she was about to look at Kitty’s shaved and gaping pussy.
‘Nice bruises, Boss,’ said the woman in admiration, ‘perfectly symmetrical.’
‘The first of many, Maisie,’ replied the man. ‘I’m hungry; could you fix us some food and get me a beer please?’
‘Sure thing, Boss. Am I cooking for two or three?’
‘Oh, just you and me, thanks. I think Kitty’s diet should start right now.’
‘Okay, Boss.’
Kitty sensed rather than heard the woman retreat but then came the familiar sound of cupboards and drawers opening and closing, pans clattering. It added to her feeling of unreality that a meal was apparently being prepared whilst she was bound, naked and helpless only feet away. The man spoke again,
‘I have a few things I wish to discuss with you, Kitty, but I want to inspect you first. Don’t move.’
With that he systematically worked his way around her body; pulling her lips back to look carefully at her teeth, running his hands over her face and throat and then down to her breasts, rolling them slowly in his hands, holding them as if trying to assess their weight, brushing his thumbs gently over her nipples. His hands were warm and dry, his movements assured. Despite herself Kitty felt her nipples grow hard and an arrow of heat pulsed down her body into her sex. He carried on, tracing a fingernail across her belly, placing his hands on each side of her hips and pressing in to find the hipbones just under the flesh. Kitty felt the goose bumps break out on her skin and her breath quickened,
‘Good girl,’ he said softly.
He moved between her outstretched legs and ran his hands firmly down each thigh until he got to her groin. With his fingers splayed out, his thumbs peeled her labia apart and uncovered her clitoris, which was hard and erect as a miniature penis. Kitty could feel his warm breath on her open sex and suddenly wished he would do something—lick her, fuck her, finger her— anything to bring her to the climax she could feel bubbling inside. Holding her open with one hand, he dipped one finger inside her, very gently. Kitty groaned and had to stop herself from thrusting her hips forward—she had no doubt that he would go through with his threat to allow her to fall if she did. Two fingers were inside her now, agonisingly slow whilst the thumb continued to tease her clitoris. It was not hard enough to tip her over the edge, but there was enough pressure to make her whole body tremble with tension. Suddenly he covered her pubic area with the heel of his hand with the two fingers still inside her, pressed down and rubbed hard.
‘Cum now, Kitty,’ he said and her orgasm hit.
The feeling started in the peak of her clitoris and shooting through her body, overwhelming her senses and making her entire body shudder in pleasure. It was so powerful she didn’t registered that his hands had withdrawn from her body and had once again grasped and twisted the same flesh he had hurt so badly a few minutes earlier. The pain was there, but it was no match for the wonderful throbbing sensation from her pussy. As the pleasure subsided and the pain asserted itself Kitty gasped and choked back a sob.
‘Well done, Kitty,’ said the man as he patted her leg, ‘Your first orgasm as a slave. You can thank me later.’
Bending down between her legs again he sniffed deeply and said,
‘Fe, fi, fo, fum, I can smell a slavegirl’s cum!’
A burst of laughter came from the kitchen and the man joined in. Kitty felt sick with humiliation. She had been made to climax just to amuse this sick psychopath and his hateful bitch of a sidekick.
‘Dinner’s ready’ said the woman.
‘Excellent,’ he replied. ‘I think Kitty should join us, at least with her eyes if not her belly.’
With that he turned Kitty over onto her stomach and around so that her head was at the end next to the metal bar. He took a wide strap and passed it over Kitty’s waist and under the counter, buckling it firmly on the underside so that she was tightly belted down and unable to move. To keep her legs apart he took a long piece of wood and wedged it between her knees; it stretched her to the limit of her flexibility and dug painfully in to her flesh.
‘Close your eyes, Kitty,’ he ordered, ‘the light in here is bright, and you will need to adjust your eyes slowly or they’ll hurt.’
He untied the blindfold, slipping the material down around her throat, turned her head to the right and retied it around the metal bar to keep her head still. Kitty opened her eyes, blinking at the light and bringing her eyes back into focus. For the first time since her capture she struggled with real fury and screamed as loud as she could through the gag. In front of her, the man and woman were sitting in HER living room, eating HER food on HER table in HER cottage. She squirmed and fought with indignation, feeling her naked breasts and pubis rubbing against the antique beechwood worktop of HER breakfast bar. Within minutes she was exhausted. She could feel the blood throbbing in her temples from her exertions but she continued her vain protest.
For a while. the couple totally ignored her, but then the man said, ‘I’m getting sick of this noise,’ and he got up and stuffed his (or rather, Kitty’s) napkin in her mouth, effectively blocking all sounds. Now forced to breathe only through her nose, Kitty had to stop moving in order to get the oxygen she needed. As she watched them eat, Kitty had her first opportunity to study her captors. The woman had her back to Kitty so she couldn’t see her face but her body was lean, well muscled and her arms (she had removed the hoodie and was wearing a white singlet T-shirt) were brown and sinewy. Kitty got the impression of someone who kept in shape from physical work, on a farm or a building site, rather than hours spent in a gym. The woman’s hair was darker at the back, a ‘salt and pepper’ mix and very short. The man was sitting at the side so Kitty could only see him in profile. He was dressed in dark grey straight-legged jeans, Chelsea boots and a black, close fitting crew-necked jumper. Kitty could see his black leather jacket on the sofa out of the corner of her eye. He was, as far as Kitty could tell, around the 6 foot he had claimed on the internet and he was also slim but not thin. From the way he had manhandled her, Kitty she knew he was strong. Lifting a nine stone, struggling woman took considerable strength, yet he’d managed it with ease. His hair was very dark brown, short at the back but longer at the front and it fell over his forehead, causing him to brush it back occasionally as he ate. He had a wide, almost wrinkle free, forehead; a long, straight nose and a wide
mouth with rather thin lips. His face was angular, very pale and he had high cheekbones and a strong, clean shaven jaw.
As he and Maisie chatted in low voices—Kitty couldn’t hear anything other than the odd word—he smiled frequently, showing unexpected dimples and even, white teeth. As though he was aware of her scrutiny, the man turned. and stared at Kitty. Her first impression was that he looked younger than 44, despite the crow’s feet around his eyes and the slight hooding of his eyelids. The eyes were wide-set, a very dark shade of blue and seemed to bore into Kitty’s brain with an unbearable intensity. She could not hold the eye contact and dropped her own gaze to the worktop within seconds.
‘A born slave, that one,’ He said casually, and turned back to his meal.
As much as she wanted to continue her assessment, Kitty daren’t risk another of his high-powered stares, so she closed her eyes and tried to relax. Her arms, back, shoulders, hips and legs were aching from being forced into unnatural angles for so many hours but when she tried to flex them burning pains shot through her tortured muscles. She limited her movement to wriggling her fingers and toes; at least she could feel them so she knew her circulation was still working. She smelt cigarette smoke – the sweet, familiar fragrance soothed her momentarily, but then made her irrationally annoyed at their bad manners in polluting her home. As a reluctant ex-smoker she had vowed not to allow anyone to smoke the cottage. The scraping of chairs—her chairs, Kitty thought angrily—told her they’d finished the meal and their cigarettes; she felt a sharp slap on her bum and the man said cheerily,
‘Wakey, wakey. Kitty! Maisie is going now, but just to put you in the picture, let me introduce you formally and explain her role in your life from now on.’ Kitty opened her eyes and saw the woman in front of her.
Kitty’s first, brief assessment in Spencer Street had been accurate—the woman was probably late forties or early fifties with a face that once had been striking and was still attractive, despite being heavily lined from weather exposure. Maisie had a classic heart-shaped face, sparkling green eyes and a pitiless smile on her face as she looked down at the helpless captive lying prone in front of her.
‘Hello, Kitty, nice to meet you, properly,’ she said in a brusque voice that suggested she was used to issuing orders and having them obeyed without question. Kitty was put in mind of a rather scary horse riding instructor from her childhood who cared far more for her animals than her pupils and shouted at her when Kitty was stupid enough to fall off.
‘Say hello, Kitty,’ the man said as he pulled the napkin from Kitty’s mouth ‘We’re both used to understanding ‘gag’ speak.’
‘ ‘ello,’ gurgled Kitty. She had to stop her herself from giggling in hysterical fear at the farcical situation.
‘Maisie and I go back a long way,’ the man said in a conversational tone, resting his buttocks against the back of a chair and crossing his arms. ‘We met in the army when I was her commanding officer. When I got my honourable discharge, Maisie decided to leave soon after, albeit somewhat less formally’—he and Maisie shared a grin at this de***********ion – ‘And come work for me.’ He went on, ‘Maisie already knew of my somewhat unusual sexual preferences, and whilst we both knew she wasn’t suited to the role of a slave, she had a strong need to follow orders which I was happy to fulfill. Since then she has become my ‘second in command’ if you like; she is my assistant, my driver, my secretary, my housekeeper or whatever I need her to be. In your case, Kitty, you should think of Maisie as my eyes, my ears and, if necessary, my hands should you need to be corrected in my absence. Maisie doesn’t take pleasure in torturing women in the way that I do, but she is more than capable of hurting you—and hurting you badly—if she deems it. necessary. That includes trying to escape, or trying to alert anyone to your status as a slave. Maisie also knows exactly how to train a slave, and will report back to me the slightest infraction in your behaviour, any willfulness or—to use a well worn Army phrase ‘that slight exaggeration of respect that an be identified as insubordination but not punished as such’ – ‘being cheeky’ is the shorter version. You will obey Maisie in exactly the same way, and with the same grace, that you will obey me. You will address her as ‘Ma’am’. Do
you understand, Kitty?’
‘ ‘es ‘Aster, ‘es ‘Am.’
‘Good girl.’ He turned to Maisie and said, ‘Go back to town and take her jeep to the lock up. You’d better disconnect the battery, as it won’t be needed for a good few months. And call Mr. C in the morning; he’s been complaining about Rachel’s behaviour but I know he’s allowing her to play up so show him – yet again—how to discipline her properly. Ten strokes should do it, so give her twenty. Little cunt.’
‘Okay, Boss, will do—see you tomorrow.’
Maisie picked Kitty’s handbag up from the floor, fished out her bunch of keys and removed the front door key and the one for the car. Without a glance at Kitty, she left the cottage.
They heard the van start up and the engine noise fade as she drove away.