Love Bound (27 page)

Misty noticed her surges of pleasure
came almost instantaneously as Brownie played with her new clit. The pleasure
was deeper and more intense than she’d ever felt before to the point it was
impossible to ignore. In a mere few minutes, Brownie brought Misty to three
body-racking orgasms which Misty spasmodically quivered and screamed to before
she begged him to stop.

“Pleeeease, sir, no more. I can’t.”

“Oh, but you can, that’s the point.”
He continued, bringing her to a fourth time just to reinforce in her mind what
a sexual machine she now was.

With her sexual skills near perfect
and her ability to take punishment improved, the enhanced Misty entered the
last segment of her training to begin to speak like a slave. Under Brownie’s
strict tutelage, Misty learned to speak in third person never using I or me to
refer to her person. She was told as a Black Rose she would serve as a sexual
toy for her Master’s amusement, not a person.

Lastly, just days before her auction,
Misty had the beautiful black rose tattooed just above her pubis to indicate
she was a member of a small but elite group of sex slaves.

* * * *

Misty had experienced many surprises
in the six years since her auction not the least of which was who bought her.
As it turned out employees of the Black Rose organization had the right to bid
a minimal amount on one slave they desired to own. Brownie used this option to
claim Misty for an amount which covered the organization’s expenses, but was
most of Brownie’s life savings. It was in this way which Misty learned his real
name as he became Master David to her.

On this night Misty was serving at a
Black Rose party, which meant everyone there knew of the organization and was
discreet so the serving slaves were presented as they should be; naked. As a
server Misty had a tray strapped to her torso just below her ponderous breasts.
The tray was held perpendicular to her body by two chains running from the
outer edges of the tray to her collar’s front ring. This allowed her to mingle
with the guests as she carried glasses of wine, ale, or hard drinks on her tray
which the guests could pick up at any time while availing themselves of the
opportunity to fondle her naked breasts. As a slave, she was also servicing
both male and female guests sexually as they desired.

Although all the guests were trusted
and discreet about the Black Rose organization, some desired not to be
recognized by fellow guests. This was achieved with the use of multi-colored
facial masks distributed by the house to whoever wanted one.

It was late in the evening when Misty
was heading back to the kitchen to have her tray refilled when she was stopped
by a man in a silver mask who required her to provide oral pleasure. She knelt
and opened her fly quickly bringing him to full erection, but as she sucked on
his stiffness something seemed familiar about him. After he climaxed in Misty’s
mouth, Misty looked up at him for it was required she listen as he complimented
her service or chastised her. To Misty’s utter shock, the man removed his mask
and she recognized him.

Oh, my god, it’s Marcel. What do I say
to him?
There
standing in front of her was Misty’s former lover who had betrayed her into her
enslavement.

Marcel or rather Stephan, which she
remembered was his real name, smiled at her. “You have my permission to speak,
slave if you wish to tell me what you think of me. You may address me
personally or address the room if you wish and there will be no punishment for
whatever you say.”

It took a moment for Misty to
understand what Stephan was offering her. She could tell him her true thoughts,
or tell the entire room, about what he had done to her and there would be no
retribution for what she said. She looked about the room at the many faces of
the elegantly dressed guests and naked fellow slaves wondering what she should
say.
Do I want to be here, a slave to my Master whose purpose is to serve
these people, or would I rather be what I was?

Misty rose from her knees and moved in
closer to the man who had ripped her freedom away from her. She caught his
scent and it brought her back to the sunny spring day on Newbury St. when she
had asked to be his slave. Knowing she could act with impunity, Misty kissed
Marcel. Yes, he was Marcel again to her as this was not the respectful kiss of
a slave to a Master. This was the fiercely passionate kiss of two lovers with
their tongues intertwining.

Stephan seemed to understand what
Misty wanted and he reciprocated her passion until Misty broke the kiss. Then
she giggled nervously because everyone in the room was staring at the sight of
a Black Rose taking liberties she was not allowed. Misty’s eyes sought out
Master David and to her joy he did not have his look of disapproval on. Of
course, David knew who Stephan was to Misty and it was he who had invited
Misty’s former lover to the party.

Knowing she was not in trouble Misty
turned back to Marcel and studied his face for a moment. She wanted to forever
remember him, not as Stephan but as Marcel. “I had to kiss you, Marcel, to see
if it felt the same as before. It was very nice reminding me of what I was, but
not the same. I’m a Black Rose now and as you pointed out years ago I am
content. Thank you for bringing true fulfillment to my life.” Having said what
she needed to say, Misty dropped to her knees and kissed Master Marcel’s now
flaccid cock before she lowered her head and eyes to the floor.
How did he
know?
Misty mused a moment and then dismissed the thought.
No matter,
thankfully he was right.

About Jennifer Campbell

Jennifer Campbell lives in a
modern log cabin, nestles under the fir and spruce that cover the mountain her
ancestors settled under. She lives with her Master, Jack, who she serves in an
eight year M/s relationship. Not wishing to live free or die, as the state’s
motto suggests, she continues her pure submission. Jennifer would love to hear
from other submissives, especially those who are touched by her writings about
female slavery. Never wanting to forget who and what she is, Jennifer will
sometimes write when she is wearing her collar, or her nipple chain.

Jennifer maintains a
My Space page and blog
. You can
also visit her
web site
or
email her at
[email protected]
.

Safeword: Inferno

By Candace Blevins

Victoria
opened her eyes in a small panic, not
sure where she was. There was a strange vibration, she was sitting up, her back
and feet hurt, and... oh, she was on the plane. She'd meant to read on the four
and a half hour flight, but apparently her body had made other plans. She
grimaced as she tried to move her legs to a more comfortable position, at six
foot one inches tall, even the luxury seats in the jet the company had
chartered didn't give her enough leg room.

After a week long business
"retreat", she wasn't really surprised she'd fallen asleep. As manager
over her department she was responsible for her people, and she was responsible
for making sure everything worked out like it was supposed to. She worked for a
large software firm, and the company had long ago started these retreats when
it was necessary to brainstorm, or when a deadline was looming and there was
still a lot of work to do. This time it had been a deadline, and the project
was finally complete. They'd managed to get what would have taken at least a
month done in a week, but that meant catered meals while they had meetings, and
lots of work between the meals, and not a whole lot of sleep.

Victoria
looked at her watch and realized she
should be in her husband's arms in about fifty minutes. The thought of being
able to let go and let him be in charge for a few days made her stomach do a
little flip-flop of joy and relief. Victoria's husband had devised a way to
help her come back to reality when she returned home from one of these
retreats. Under normal circumstances she was a sexual submissive, and was
his
sexual submissive. But she only submitted to him sexually, not in any other
way. However, when she returned from a retreat she always had at least four
days home and they had both discovered that it worked for him to completely
dominate her in all ways for two or three days when she was trying to recover
from a retreat. It was not only a way for him to take possession of her again
after not having her around for a week or more, but it was a way for her to
de-stress after the retreat. After being in charge of so much, she could let go
and be in charge of nothing for a little while, knowing she is loved and taken
care of. He'd told her he was going to take her even farther this time, was
going to push their limits again, and she was both excited and a little
apprehensive. Almost scared, but not scared of him, just nervous of where he
was likely to take her.

The pilot must have been in a hurry,
because a mere thirty minutes later she was walking down the steps of the
company's private plane and saw her husband waiting for her on the other side
of the fence. Most everyone else left their cars at the airport and drove
themselves, but Victoria's husband wanted to take care of her, wanted to see
her the first moment he could, and that was at the airport, not home. She
walked to the back of the plane to retrieve her luggage and then walked the
final 20 yards that stood between her and Gordon.

Gordon respected that she couldn't
fall into his arms in front of her coworkers. She was talking to them as she
came out of the door and she said goodbye to them as she reached for his hand
and let him direct her to the car. He put her into the passenger side and gave
her a peck on her cheek as he said, "Take your shoes off before you put
your seatbelt on, please."

He closed her door and then she heard
him putting her bags into the trunk as she did as he'd instructed. It felt so
good to get her shoes off, and she felt grateful to him for telling her to do
it. He got into the driver side and visually checked her over before buckling
himself in.

* * * *

Gordon already knew from talking to
her on the phone that she hadn't had much sleep this week, but she really
looked like hell. Not so much that her coworkers would notice, but he knew her
inside and out, so of course he knew it. He'd watched the others and they all
looked exhausted, so it wasn't just his Victoria who had burned the candle at
both ends. The company had offered a big bonus if they could get the project
complete before the weekend, and was giving them a few extra paid days off next
week on top of the bonus. Victoria's bonus would be around five thousand
dollars, so it wasn't like she hadn't been adequately compensated... but still,
part of him was angry that she'd been put through a week of all of that work,
hardly any sleep, and no time off for herself at all. Not even to get a break
from things for meals.

But now she'd been returned to him,
and it was his job to take care of her. Gordon had never wanted a relationship
that required him to micromanage someone, and under normal circumstances he
didn't tell Victoria what to do in any way except sex. Their agreement was that
she had to be available for him whenever he wanted sex, and in whatever way
turned him on. Luckily for them both, what turned him on also turned her on,
most of the time. But in the days following one of these retreats he'd figured
out that he didn't mind spending a few days micromanaging the love of his life.
After nine years of marriage, a few days of going over the top with things
helped them reconnect again. He would never want to do it full time, but a few
days of it two or three times a year worked for them.

* * * *

Victoria
rested her head on the headrest of
her seat as the sounds of Bach's Air on a G String filled the interior of the
car. Gordon had told her to concentrate on her breathing, to think of nothing
but how the air felt going into her body, and then leaving her body. He was
holding her hand, but was being silent, wanting her to feel the music, feel the
oxygen entering her body as she breathed it in. She floated away with the
music, and the next thing she knew they were pulling into their spacious
garage. When he'd shut the engine off and closed the garage door he squeezed
her hand and said, "Who are you for the next couple of days?"

"I'm your Pet. And you're going
to take care of me."

"That's right. I know you know
the rules, but I'd like to remind you of them anyway. Your safeword will make
me take a closer look at what is going on, and will perhaps make me back off
and talk to you, but it won't end the scene, and it won't necessarily make me
stop what I'm doing. You've agreed to that in the past, do you agree to it
again?"

She knew he wasn't asking this as part
of the scene, so she didn't answer that way. "Yes, Gordon. I trust you to
know the difference of when I'm hurting in a bad way, and when I just need a
little help getting through whatever you're doing. I know you won't completely
ignore my safeword, even if you give me that impression."

He nodded and smiled and said,
"Okay then. Formal speech, no arguing allowed, and you do nothing without
being instructed to do it. That means no going to the bathroom, no getting a
drink of water, no touching yourself, no orgasms — you do nothing except
breathe without being given instructions by me that you should do so. And on
occasion I may even take that right away for very short periods of time. You
may let me know of any need you have, but you won't satisfy the need. If the
need is to be satisfied then I will make it happen. Not you."