Your erotic stories

Too many erotic stories. Erotic stories free to watch. Only the best porn stories and sex stories


Category: BDMS
BadFairGoodInterestingSuper Total 0 votes

My first memories are of being a slave. Perhaps I was one in a former life, perhaps not. In one of my memories I was bound and stood on a box in front of men. There was smoke, the click of ice in glasses, course laughter and my fear. My fear was also my arousal.

The men bid on me. I was torn by the fear of who would get me and what he would be like, the surreal pleasure that men were bidding on me — competing to see who would own me and use me. I was sold and moved back to the waiting area. I had no idea how long it would be before I meet my Master, before I was under his control. Would I please him? Would he arouse me? My body throbbed with desire and for that moment there was nothing that I can do but squirm and wait.

I waited in the cold room, my hands bound above my head. I was naked, defenseless, and vulnerable. I moved my head to feel the touch of my long hair across the small of my back. I shifted my feet. My arms ached. My body had cooled since the sale.

The door behind me opened and I tried to twist in the bonds to see Him.

“Do not move!” His voice was velvet over steel. The command in it froze my movement. He must have been able to hear my heart pounding. This was the man that owned me now. My Master. I was his to do with as he pleased.

I jumped as his fingers touched me. The skin tingled with the electricity in his touch. He moved my hair over my shoulder so my back was bare to him and then he began to touch me. His hand was warm and strong but gentle. He ran his hand down my back to the curve of my buttocks and squeezed with the pride of ownership.

“Delightful,” I heard him murmur softly. Then louder, “Spread your legs for me.”

I hesitated at his order, half turning in the chains. The sting of the crop was fast and left a lick of fire on the curve he just caressed. I parted my legs, trying to balance on my toes, fighting back the hot tears that sprang to my eyes.

His fingers caressed the wetness between my legs and I heard him chuckle with pleasure. The deep laugh made me wetter and I whimpered in embarrassment. He laughed again at the soft noise I made and walked around to look at my front.

I looked at him boldly and then dropped my eyes at the intensity of his look. I felt the blush spread from my face down my chest and felt my nipples harden. I could do nothing to hide my reactions and I hated it… I loved it.

He caressed my breasts and sucked briefly on each nipple, taste testing me. He was my height and there was nothing about him that screamed “Master” except this aura about him.

“What is your name?” he lifted my chin with his finger so I was forced to look into the cool blue eyes.

“Whatever you want it to be Master,” I whispered the reply I have been taught.

He sighed, “I bought you because you did not look like a doormat. Tell me your name.” There is a cold chill to the command.

“Rosemary,” my voice trembled.

“Hmmm… ” he stepped back and walked around me, looking, weighing something about me in his mind. “A good name for you, for I am sure there are some thorns, and I will make you bloom.”

He had not taken me down yet. Instead he was once again behind me. I strained to decipher the sounds. Something was placed on the floor — two clicks — briefcase — my mind recognized the sound. I heard the movement of cloth, felt his arm brush against my skin and there was darkness. I had not been blindfolded before and fear welled up inside me. I cried out in wordless panic and twisted in the chains, frantic to free my hands and remove the cloth from over my eyes.

“Hold still, girl,” his command was soft and punctuated by several strong lashes on my upper thighs. The pain gave me a chance to regroup and I found myself still, trembling. The darkness was terrifying, yet, at the same time, there was something oddly comforting. Not anticipating it, I flinched as his fingers brushed over the swell of my breast and toyed with a nipple. He kept his hand on me until I was reasonably still again.

“Good girl.”

I was filled with such pleasure that he found me good. I felt my eyes fill with tears.

“You are a lovely thing my Rose and I will whip you now. It will hurt, and it will also be pleasurable. Your pain and your pleasure will please me very much. When I am done with you here, I will take you home to your new life.”

I felt him step back and wait. Was it seconds or hours before the hot lick of the whip brought a welt to my skin? He worked the crop over my body and each time it struck me there was liquid fire of pain and liquid fire of need until my body throbbed with the need of his physical touch, the feel of him in, the need for release. I heard my voice like someone far away, begging to serve him. He entered me hard and thick. I fought against the chains, not for escape from him, but for my need to touch him. I could not hold back the orgasm any longer, and I felt him explode in me. The darkness made each sensation magnify a hundred times.

I dangled there, the cool air soothing each hot welt on my body. “I will forgive you this time,” He spoke softly, but I detected no true displeasure in his voice, “You will soon learn only to come when I allow it. They have not trained you for that.”

There was a clasp of cool metal around my throat, the click of a lock and I felt the solid weight of a collar around my neck showing his legal ownership. I gave a small shake of my head and heard the jingle of a tag. I was a slave by law and I could not remember what the crime was that I committed to be made one. My Master lowered me to floor and removed the chains. I felt a soft silkiness on my skin…fabric.

“Keep the blindfold on, girl and put on the robe. I don’t hold to dragging new slaves around town in nothing.”

My arms tingled with pins and needles as I blindly felt the cloth and deciphered how to put it on. Silk brushed against my bare skin and I recognized a kimono style robe. I stood, swaying in a combination of dark disorientation and the wash of sensations, waiting for his next command.

The trip “home” seemed endless in the darkness my Master wished. He had not touched me since he used me back in the waiting area of the auction house, except to bind my hands behind my back once we were in the car. If I moved, I could feel the silk kimono slide open a bit more. I ached to speak and question him and to know more, but his silence was daunting.

I thought of what I remembered and there was so little. There was the training center, the trainers and before that… gray nothing. I knew that Master had been given a list of my skills. I could still read and do sums, but I am not sure where I lived or even who ruled the government. I knew how to cook, but could not remember what my favorite foods were. I was a blank slate for my Master. The center removed as much of our past as they could.

The car stopped and his door opened. I felt his strong hand guide me out. My steps were hesitant. There was no reason for him to hurt me, but the blindfold forced me to trust him with a trust I didn’t have yet.

“Four steps and then stop, Rose,” I heard the jingle of keys, a door unlocking. The air was bitter cold and I shivered. He guided me inside and the warmth was a welcome caress. He removed the blindfold, but leaft my hands bound.

“Follow me and I will show you the place,” He seemed to have relaxed on entering his home. The robe I wore gaped open in the front and I wanted to close it, but I could only move to keep up with his long steps. He showed me both floors. The top floor had a study, a large bedroom, a well appointed bath and two walk in closets. One had been converted to a small room for me. He told me I would only sleep in here if he was displeased. The lower floor had a living room, dinning room, kitchen and a door to the basement. The basement was his playroom. The equipment was familiar from the training center. Here he released my hands and had me remove the robe to kneel in front of him.

“It’s a good time for the house rules, girl. I spent a great deal of time being certified to own a slave and a great expense to get you. You will obey me. First, you wear no clothing in the house unless I have specifically said you may. Second, you will call me Master at all times. Third, you will call all other people, Sir or Ma’am as is appropriate. Fourth, any disobedience real or imagined will be punished. Fifth, you will not leave the house unless I specifically tell you to. Sixth, There is no eating unless it is something I have given you. Do you have any questions about my rules?”

“No Master.” I looked up at him, the man that was my whole reason of existence.

“Good,” His smile reached his eyes and it warmed me. “I want you to go upstairs and cook something for us to eat. Prepare two servings, but only set one place at the table. You will eat from my hand for the time being. I will be in my study working. Do not hesitate to ask me, but do not pester me.”

He turned and went up the stairs, leaving me to move at my own pace. I cast a wishful look at the robe on the floor and headed up to start this new life.

* * * * *

I knelt by the side of the table, my eyes on Him as he ate. I watched for any sign that he needed something more, that he was displeased or pleased. Occasionally he offered me a forkful of food, but otherwise he read the papers he brought with him. Not a word about the dinner I had made, the place setting, the candles. I knew I was supposed to please him, but a little appreciation would be nice, maybe a kind word or two.

“You could at least say Thank you.” I finally muttered sullenly.

He turned to look at me and raised his eyebrows, “So soon? Go to the basement and wait.”

I glared at Him and stood, gathered his dishes and toke them into the kitchen. He watched me and followed a second later. I was not prepared for his hand curling in my thick hair and pulling my head back sharply. I dropped the dishes and struggled to keep my footing, crying out in pain. He was stronger than I, so much stronger — I fought but he easily won and in a few minutes I was back in the basement, chained with manacles around each wrist spreading them far apart, a short chain held my collar against the wall at an uncomfortable height. I was pressed face first against the wall still struggling. My anger burned hot.

“You can’t do this to me!” I screamed, “I am a person, not a slave!”

Unable to stop him, he slid the blindfold over my eyes again. The darkness made my anger worse, or is it now my fear? I struggled, headless of the pain I caused myself. There was only silence, such a long and cold silence. When I was exhausted with my fight and had no strength left he spoke.

“You are right, Rose. No one should be forced to be a slave, but that is the law. You are a slave and there is nothing that can change that. You are and will always be one. I will teach you to be a good one. I will not tolerate disobedience, I will not ask you to do something a second time. How many rules did you break?”

The cold wall seeped the warmth from my body, but did nothing cool the lingering anger. “One,” I snapped.

“Obviously you need to think about it more. I will be back before bed to see if you have it right.”

I could hear his footsteps and the door shutting. I struggled again; I screamed my anger; I cried my fear.

* * * * *

Alex sat in the leather chair in his study and watched Rosemary on the monitor. He turned the sound up now that her anger seemed to have burned itself out. She hadn’t said anything that would be of use in the report, but it was only her first day. He had almost given up hope of finding a pleasure slave with as much personality left as she had. Most seemed sort of blank; as if the treatments removed much more than just the memories of the past. He had much hope for this woman.

He glanced again at the papers in front of him. Her retinal scan had brought back a lengthy list of crimes from petty to severe that seemed plausible enough unless you knew. If this report were true, the judge that passed her sentence to slavery had done so while in a coma. Rosemary was his first hard link of what he had suspected. Innocent women kidnapped, treated and sold for pure profit. He just needed to get Rosemary to remember.

Still, he mused, it would not change her legal status. She was a slave, and she belonged to him. It would take some time, but his goal was to get her to serve out of love rather than government induced law.

He watched her until her body showed the slackness of total exhaustion. He tucked the papers away in the drawer, turned off the monitor and went downstairs.

He smiled at the view of her. Her body was lovely, beautifully curved and sleek. It glistened in the light and he could smell her fear like a faint and pleasurable musk. He ran his hand down her smooth back and repressed a delighted chuckle at her sharp intake of breath and the unconscious movement of her body toward him.

“Well girl?”

“Please, Master,” her voice was a ragged whisper. Her throat must be raw and tender from her screaming earlier, “Please forgive me.”

He detected a hint of strain in her voice that indicated she was close to hysterical panic again. His eyes narrowed as he evaluated the cause. He reached up and removed the blindfold and saw the sharp edge of tension in her body move away. The blindfold, he realized, how very interesting. She had a panicked fear of the total darkness. He would have to investigate this more later, but right now, he had to deal with her behavior.

“Tell me what you did wrong,” he spoke gently.

“I did not obey you Master, I spoke out of turn, I demanded of you what I was not due, I did not have permission to clear the dishes, I did not go to the basement, I fought you, I…” she squirmed in her bonds trying to think of anything else she did, “I… think that is everything.”

“Yes Pet, you did all that. You are a good girl for remembering. Now I will punish you for it and that will be the end of it. I get no pleasure from this punishment, nor shall you.”

He took from the wall the punishment whip, “You have admitted to six separate offenses. I am going to give you five lashes for each offense you admitted to. You forgot to confess not being truthful when I asked you the first time and for your anger. I am going to five you ten lashes for each of those. Fifty lashes, Rosemary and you will count each one of them for me. Miscounting will add another five each time.”

He could still see the red marks from the earlier whipping she had gotten. He gave a sigh and lifted the whip, bringing it down with a hard stroke across her back.

“One….” she gasped, her fingers clawing at the stone wall.

He lifted his arm again.

* * * * * * *

He finished his shower and peeked in the door of the closet. She was asleep, but made a soft moaning noise. She was beautiful lying there naked, hands bound behind her, the chain from the wall to her collar snaking on the floor near her. She would be painfully sore for days. Some of the last lashes had broken skin, but the ointments, while they stung, would keep there from being scarring. Tomorrow morning, he would unleash her and take her to the bed and give her pleasure, a reward for not losing count. He smiled and turned off the light.

* * * * *

I spent the entire day cleaning. My body ached horribly from last night, but it actually felt better the more I moved. Master’s tender touch in the morning and the pleasure he had given me, still warmed my body.

Master’s house was tidy, but he still had a long list of chores for me to do. There was an odd feeling about cleaning naked. It is not a feeling of “wrong” per se, but more of surreal. All the items felt familiar to me, so I must have cleaned before. I cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen and was vacuuming the floors when I felt his eyes on me. I stopped and knelt. I had an odd series of feelings ranging from fear to excitement. I ached from the beating last night and I wanted him to see that I had done a good job. My mind raced to think of anything I may have missed that would displease him. I couldn’t take another beating tonight.

“You have done well, girl. I want you to go clean yourself up and then prepare dinner for five people. I am having guests tonight and you will serve.” I must have looked horrified for he gave a soft laugh that caused my insides to burn. “No Rose, I am not going to let you wear clothing yet. These are close friends and will do nothing but look at you. Besides, I want your back healed nicely before you have something against it.” He proceeded to let me know what he wanted fixed and the setting for the table.

I could feel my empty stomach gurgling with hunger. My last food had been what he had fed me last night before my rebellion. Cooking food and not being allowed to have any was an agony I could have done without, but I didn’t dare risk another punishment.

At the appointed hour, I had the food ready, the table was set, and was kneeling, waiting for Master’s instruction. I realized that I was trembling and bit my lower lip trying to calm myself. I had been naked before other people before, but they were trainers, these men were different. I could hear Master’s voice greeting them, their voices, coming closer. I fought with myself to keep my place, the memory of the beating still far too fresh in my mind to risk another.

“She’s lovely, Alex,” said one. I could see his feet and I dared not look up. I heard the others seating themselves.

“She is,” Master agrees and sat, “Rose, serve the dinner.”

I stood and realized that my face was damp with silent tears. I hurried into the kitchen and got the salads. Silently I served them. I was shaking so hard, I almost spilled a plate on one of the man. I knelt by Master’s chair. Somehow being near him was comforting. I leaned closer to him as if his nearness brought with it safety.

“What did she do to get the marks on her back?” the man opposite Master asked. “She is still learning what it is to be a slave,” Master said smoothly and I was grateful He did not go into detail. He offered me a slice of tomato and I tried to be dainty in eating it, keeping my hands on my thighs as I have been taught. He lifted my chin so I could look into his eyes and he smiled warmly at me, his thumb brushed away some of the tears.

Why did I melt at this tender gesture? Why would my head throb and my insides twist in confusion? Without conscious thought, I leaned my head against his leg. What was I and what had I been that I was here now?

Dinner seemed endless. When the men had finished, Master ushered them into his study. He came back and made up a plate of food for me and instructed me to clean up and have coffee and the dessert ready for later.

They stayed in the study for some time and I had plenty of time to eat, clean the dishes and have the coffee and dessert ready. Only one of the men touched me the whole night. I was pouring more coffee into his cup when his hand caressed my rear and squeezed. I yelped and jerked the pot back, splashing some coffee on the pristine tablecloth. The men laughed and I dropped to the floor in terror.

“Please Master, I am sorry, I am so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, Pet, the tablecloth will clean. Go into the kitchen and wait there for me.”

I hurried into the kitchen and there was more laughter around the table. The men left shortly after that and I spent the whole time, kneeling on the floor, trembling. I couldn’t take another beating, I had to make him realize that I hadn’t meant to spill.

The kitchen door opened and he stood there, tall and strong and smiling at me. “You seem worried, Rose. Don’t be. Paul should not have touched you without my permission. Come upstairs. I wish to take a bath. The cups and plates will wait for morning.”

He turned and went up the stairs. By the time I got up there, he already had the bath water running and was pouring green crystals into it. I could smell the piney scent of them and froze… pine trees… cold… a memory of something pushed on my mind…pine…

I am not sure what happened next, but I found myself lying on the floor, my head in Master’s lap, his hand brushing my face.

“You have come back to me,” he whispered, “What happened, Pet? Are you in pain?” “No Master…. my head…” I could feel the throbbing and the scent of pine seemed to push harder at it, “I thought I remembered something… the pine smell… it hurts.”

He picked me up and carried me into the bedroom and tucked me into the bed. Concern shone in his eyes, “Just lie here. I will bathe myself and join you in a bit.”

* * * * *

Alex returned from the bath still worried about Rosemary. She had gotten this look of total horror on her face, turned white and crumpled to the ground. She lay now curled in the bed like an abandoned kitten. He got into the bed and moved next to her. He ran his hand over her smooth skin and she moved closer to him. He smiled. Her trust of him was growing quickly. Gently he massaged her arms until she relaxed them. Being gentle and moving slowly, he moved her arms over her head and fastened them to the headboard. He loved the way she looked stretched out for him that way. Determined not to wake her yet, he moved carefully, massaging her legs to get them to relax and then fastening each ankle until she was opened for him.

Kneeling over her he began to lick and suckle her nipples, his fingers playing gently between her legs, feeling the moisture grow. She moaned under him and her body tensed as she woke fully. Her breasts moved at her surprised gasp. There was a moment of struggle and he could feel her give into the bonds. He lifted his head and looked at her, “You are far too beautiful my sweet Rose. I want to taste you.”

He moved his fingers to her breast and teased the nipples, grinning at the responding arch of her body toward him. “What do you feel?”

Rose tried to twist under his hand and whispered, “I feel…pleasure…and agony. I ache and throb. It isn’t fair to do this to me.”

He chuckled, “Oh it is fair, you are a slave Rose. You are a slave to your passions. I control them as I control your body. It is my pleasure for you to ache this way. In time tonight, I will give you what your body aches for. I am your Master.”

He touched the moistness between her legs and wiggled two fingers inside her until she danced under his hand in need. He brought her to the edge and the backed off. She cursed him softly for it.

“Who am I?” he asked bringing her to the edge again, toying with her to keep her there, unable to push herself over the brink to orgasm.

“Master… you are Master, please… God, I can’t take this…”

Alex laughed deeply, “Oh yes you can, Pet, and yes you will until I am ready.” He moved his hand away from her, delighted that she strained her body toward it, desperate for more of his touch, loving the frustrated noise she made, “What are you?”

“Your slave.” She spit out angrily.

He ignored the anger for now and reached over to get the clamps he had placed there earlier and suckled her right nipple until it was rock hard. With skill, he clamped the right nipple, watching her strain against the bonds, her body an exquisite arch of flesh. He clamped the left nipple and sat back to watch her. Her body gleamed in the low light with the silky sheen of arousal. The look she gave him was a combination of hatred and lust. He gave a tug to the chain that linked the clamps together and she twisted in desperation, her breath was short and he could tell she was on a hair’s edge of coming. He made himself get up and get a drink of water, leaving her spread open for him in aroused agony. When she was cooled down a bit he came back and mounted her.

He slipped his cock into her and sighed with pleasure at the tight fit. She was hot and throbbing around him, squirming wildly to feel him thrust into her. He looked down at her flushed face, “You enjoy that, Pet?”

“Yes….” she hissed. He knew her anger was at herself for giving into him, not at him for using her, as was his right. He began long strokes into her, taking care not to let her go over the edge. He came in her with a long cry of pleasure and then lay back next to her.

“Damn you!” she began, trying frantically to twist her body to have more of him.

“Don’t make me gag you, Rose,” he gave his voice the edge that let her know he was serious. He toyed with the clamps and whispered into her ear how he was her Master and he controlled her body. He brought her to the edge time and again until she was almost delirious with need.

He was hard again and when she began to whisper his mantra back without prompting, “You are Master, I am your slave. You own my body, you control my body…” He took her again, this time pulling on the clamps until she exploded in an orgasm that had her screaming in delight. She came again when he removed the clamps and a third time as he teased her body with a dildo. She was beyond comprehension as he released her feet and hands. He made sure her collar was attached to the length of chain fastened to the bed before he let himself drift into an exhausted but pleased sleep

* * * * *

I knelt in my Master’s study with paper, paints and a brush. I decided that I had one of the oddest Master’s in the world. I remembered what he did to me last night, but I had never imagined there could be such wondrous feeling and such agony at the same time. Thinking of it now, I throbbed with desire for him. Was this part of the conditioning I had or some spell he had placed on me?

In the morning, He brought me to the study and quizzed me. Question after question, most of which I had I could not answer. What was my earliest memory, what colors di I like, if I could be free what profession want to be. Each question was thrown at me fast, giving me no time to think. If I did not answer fast enough, He would flick this switch of his and there would be a sting of pain. My head throbbed now like something was trying to escape. I was now supposed to paint. I didn’t understand, but if it pleased him, who was I to say?

I found I painted trees, pine trees. I thought of the scent from last night and added in a cabin. The shape was wrong, so I added on more cabin until it looked right. It was still missing something. A lake? No, a stream. I painted it in and found I had added a shape behind the trees. A dark shape, something lurking.

“Very interesting.” Master took the painting, studied it and then sat in his chair and looked at me. “I am afraid I have to go on a short business trip, Rose. It will only be overnight. I have asked Andrew to come over to make sure you are all right. He will sleep in the guest room. You will serve him food and do any tasks he asks of you, but he will not touch you. No one touches you but me.”

“Where is Master going?” I asked curiously.

“Los Angeles. I am meeting with a client.”

“LA is great. You should go to dinner at the Sunset Tower. It’s pricey but the food is good,” I suggested without thinking. At the look on his face, I prostrated myself, “Please Master, forgive your slave for speaking out of turn.” The fear of punishment drove every other thought from my head.

“Forgiven, Pet.” He lifted me up and looked intently into my eyes. “You remember this place?”

I blinked, realizing that I did. I could see myself there, the table setting, the food being placed in front of me. I wore a black dress and there was someone else…. someone….

The pain in my head was worse. I described the brief memory and trembled. Was he angry? Would I be sent back for more treatment? I didn’t want to loose this bit of memory, this bit of who I was.

“I am not angry, Pet,” He kissed me on the forehead, “Go make some coffee for both of us and bring it back here. I have a phone call to make.”

He played with me again that night, driving me to the edge of sanity with his touch; teasing my body until I am begged him to take me. When I awake he was gone.

I did my chores and the exercises he had outlined for me. I had just finished with my shower when I heard the door open and then shut.

I hurried out and saw Paul standing in the hallway. He had Master’s spare key and was shedding his coat and scarf. I remembered my place, took them for him, and hung them up in the closet.

“Master is not here,” I took a step back from him, uneasy with his presence for no apparent reason.

“Yes, Andrew couldn’t make it, so I offered to come over and take care of you.” There was something about his smile that made me cold.

“Yes, Sir,” I knelt, “What would Sir like for dinner? I can cook well.”

“I will worry about dinner,” he moved toward me and ran his hand over my hair. When I tried to move away, his fingers tangled in it and yanked down sharply, pulling me down until I was bent backward at his waist. “I plan to have a good time with you while I can.”

“No!” I struggled to free myself, but his grip is like iron, “You cannot touch me! I belong to Master!”

“And he is not here,” he pulled me to the basement door and shoved me down the stairs. I fell hard, rolling and lay stunned at the bottom. He moved down the stairs with a deliberate step, grinning.

I leapt to my feet and swayed with dizziness, looking for a way to escape. I waited until he was off the stairs and then bolted for them. He caught my by the hair again and swung me around into a table. I hit it hard and couldn’t breathe. Darkness crept in for a moment and then cleared, but he has used the time to push me to the table. I fought him, trying to scream but I still didn’t have enough air. He easily bound my wrists while I tried to kick him. I wanted to hurt him; I wanted to kill him.

Pain, blinding light, my head rang and my face ached where he hit me. I lay in stunned pain, unable to fight as he fastened my legs to the table.

“God, you’re a bitch,” he muttered.

I could see with some pleasure that I have drawn blood on his face in the fight.

“No slave tells me, ‘no.’ I am your Master for the night and I will have you. Who is Alex going to believe, you or me?”

I could taste the blood in my mouth from his backhand and watched helplessly as he removed his clothes. He gave no warning, no foreplay, and no concern if I was ready. He shoved himself into me hard, scraping the dry passage there. I turned my head away, not wanting to see his face, but he forced me to look up at him, to watch his rape. I could see that he enjoyed the pain I was feeling.

The humiliation of it seemed to last forever. When he was done, he walked off, leaving me there, naked and helpless on the table. It was cold, but the air soothed my body. I cried, aching from the abuse and I remembered.

There had been pine trees and a cabin. It had been a weekend trip away from the city. I was just stepping out of the shower when I found them standing there. My confusion and shock played to their benefit and they caught me easily. Roughly they bound my hands behind me and then blindfolded me. Oh God, the darkness made everything more terrifying. First one took me and then the other; then the first one again. It couldn’t be happening to me. The memories of that night tumbled back. I screamed as the memories that assailed me.

Paul was suddenly back, hitting me again, screaming at me to be silent. I forced myself to stop, fear paralyzing me. He had the punishment whip and lifted it up.

I waited for the blow that did not come. My eyes were closed tightly in anticipation of the agony. Instead, there was a scuffle. I open my eyes and saw Paul being held by two policemen. Master was there, worry in his eyes as he fumbled with the knots that held me.

“Rose, oh my God, Rose.” He whispered, struggling to loosen the knot my panic had tightened.

I did not care that the police saw me like that. I cared only that Master has come for me. When he had untied me, he picked me up and carried me upstairs, holding me. I curled against him, safe. My body screamed with each movement, but I held back the cries. I didn’t want to upset Master more than he already was. He held me while the police questioned me. He stayed near as they photographed my body as evidence. Master refused to leave my side at the hospital where I was treated. I finally slept in his arms as the morning light tried to shine through the curtains.

When we woke, he soothed my aches with an ointment and we talked. I told him what happened and what I had remembered. He told me that Andrew had called him to let him know that Paul would be stopping in. Not trusting Paul, Master had come home right away. I slept more, feeling safe in my Master’s house.

* * * * *

Alex watched Rosemary as she lay curled on the floor by the fire reading. Sometimes she was so feline in her movements that he had taken to calling her “kitten.” He knew she didn’t really care for the name, and yet at the same time it pleased her. She had healed well from the attack and seemed content with her life. He had avoided the basement for a time and then introduced her slowly again to its pleasures and sweet torments. On the surface things were good. He also knew of her nightmares and noticed she still flinched at sudden movements.

He glanced back at the computer screen and the report there. With the few things Rosemary had remembered, he had started the investigation to see if he could find out who she really was. Finally, there was something. His man in Los Angeles had shown her picture at the restaurant she had remembered. Claiming to be searching for her to give her an inheritance, he was able to find one person who thought he remembered her and her date. Further investigation led to some bare information.

If this were true, Rosemary was really Alice Carter, a legal secretary who had worked for a large law firm in LA. According to interviews with the people at the law firm, Alice didn’t come in one Monday and mailed a resignation with a forwarding address. No one had questioned it.

The forwarding address was a post office box. Soon he would know who had rented the box. Once the participants of the plot were uncovered, he would take the information to the police.

But what to do about Rosemary…or was it Alice. He preferred Rosemary. She was not a criminal and should not then be a slave. The courts would probably free her. He was startled to see how much it hurt to think that she would not be there.

“Kitten-love, come here,” he turned off the monitor of the computer and smiled a bitter smile as she came over, happiness on her face.

“Yes, Master, how can I serve you?”

“I’m fine, I just wanted you by my side,” he petted her hair as she snuggled next to his leg, agony ripping his heart in two.

* * * * *

Alex kissed me goodbye and stepped into the cab. I waved until I could not see him anymore and then went back inside.

The warmth inside felt good. I kept the kimono on. Master had given me a few and told me to wear them as I wanted unless he specified otherwise. It felt odd at first to have clothing on my body. I worried that he was tired of me, but I realized, as the weather got colder, that his house could be a bit drafty at times. He was protecting me, and that touched me. He was off again on business and promised to check in on me several times. I would have time to work on his birthday present now.

It isn’t an easy thing for a slave to make a surprise gift for her Master. First I had to tell him I wanted to make him something, that I wanted it to be a surprise, and that I would need some supplies in order to make it. This did open up some new chores for me in the long run. I now did the shopping. Master had dressed me in the warmest of the kimonos and taken me to a number of stores and introduced me to each of the owners, making sure that I would be able to put purchases on his accounts. Now I went out as needed and got the food and other things we needed. The stores were all close and walking was easy.

Now that I could get the supplies, I had to find time to work on in where he could not see. This was harder. When he was home, he liked me near him. When he was out, I often had housework to do. Still, I had managed now and then to get it going well. I put on some music and curled up in the sofa near the fireplace and took out the knitting. I was making him a sweater of dark green wool. I remembered that I knew how to knit while I was recovering from the attack. That had been some months ago and the fear of it has faded.

I had remembered a lot since that day. I remember bits and pieces of my life before I was sold, and none of it seems to fit a criminal that would be sentenced to slavery. Master told me the other night, that there is some evidence that I might not have been a criminal. That is where he was going now, to investigate that. I am not sure how that made me feel. Was it the conditioning or was it me that loved my life now? I loved caring for Master, and I loved his care and touch. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be sent away, alone. I pushed the thoughts from my head. There was no need to worry about that now.

When it was dark, I made a small meal for myself, I toke a long bath and went to bed. It was hard to sleep alone now. The only times I was alone, was when I was being punished. That still happened now and then. I was lucky that Master did not punish me for imagined slights, but was instead exceedingly fair. That made the punishment all the worse, for I know that I have disappointed him greatly. So, now alone, I did not sleep well.

Perhaps it is that restlessness that alerted me to the noise. I could hear someone downstairs. Master had called earlier so I knew that he was far away from here. I slipped out of the bed, wrapping the kimono around my naked body. I was torn between running down the stairs to confront the person and hiding. Whatever I choose, I need something to protect myself. I remembered that Master has golf clubs in the closet. Moving as silently as I could, I got the one that seemed the heaviest. What next? I forced myself to calm down and to think.

The police. I need to get to the phone. Master refused to have one in the bedroom, so I needed to get to the study, but I heard the person moving up the stairs. I stuffed the pillows under the covers to make a body and I got behind the door. It’s a lame place to hide, but so is under the bed, the bathroom or the closet.

In the darkness, I saw the person slip into the room. He was big and though it was dark I knew it was Paul. I wanted to run, to scream, but at the same time, an anger I had never known began to brew inside me. It was white hot and brilliant. I saw him move toward the bed, something in his hands. I saw the knife gleam as his lifted it and drove it into the pillows. He froze in confusion.

The anger reached a peak and I leapt at him, the club swinging. I would not let him hurt me again! I would not let him hurt another person! The club connected with a resounding thud and he fell to the ground, the knife skittering across the floor. I swung the club again and brought it down on his back. I heard his angry scream like an oddly distant noise.

His hand grabbed my ankle in an iron grasp and pulled. I lost my balance and hit the floor hard, the club gone from my hands. Panic fueled the anger in me, as I knew what he would do to me this time. I clawed and fought; I ripped at his skin and tried to find his eyes. He would not rape me again. I must have hurt him, for his hands released me just long enough for me to get up and run.

I knew the house better than he did, the darkness giving me an even greater advantage. I made it to the study and grabbed the phone, hitting the speed dial for the police. It rang, and rang and rang. I heard the dispatcher’s voice as Paul found me, grabbing me from behind and swinging me away from the phone. I screamed as loudly as possible, praying the woman would hear me. I fell hard against the bookshelves; books falling around me.

Paul was saying something, but it is just noise as I tried to scramble to my feet. Something hit me across my stomach and I fell to floor gasping for breath. No! I would not let him win. I threw a book at him as I struggled to crawl away. I felt his hand in my hair, ripping, pulling me up even as I fought like fury.

He threw me on top of Master’s desk, scattering items to the floor. He easily backhanded over and over. I tried to curl up to protect myself from the onslaught of his blows. He forced me back and tore the kimono open. He punched me in the stomach with a curse. The wind knocked out of me, there was little I could do to stop him from thrusting into me. He kept slamming his body into mine with a cruelty that was all too familiar. I could do nothing but lie there.

As he called me names, raping me, my fingers found a length of smooth, cool metal. It was if the coldness of the metal filled me and in one smooth movement, in the hiatus of time, I moved. Time seemed to crystallize. I could not see him perfectly, but I knew where he was. His scream echoed off the walls and then there was silence.

I rolled painfully from the desk and began to crawl from the room. I had to get away before he could get me again. I was in the hallway when the lights flipped on. A hand reached out to touch me, but I clawed back in self-preservation. I don’t remember what they said, but somehow they managed to convince me that I was safe.

As they helped me down the stairs, I saw into the study and body of Paul, lying on the ground, the letter opener protruding from his eye. He would never touch me again.

I don’t know how much time passed. I know I slept. I know they never bothered to bring me any food or to remove the chains they had put on me. Why should they care? I was a slave that killed a free person. It didn’t matter what he was doing; I was a slave.

By the time Master stood in the doorway, my right eye had swollen up enough that it was difficult for me to open it. I was not sorry that I had killed Paul; I doubt I ever would be. At that moment, seeing the look on Master’s face, I was sorry that I had caused this trouble for him.

“Can’t leave you alone, can I?” he asked softly, coming over to my side and sitting on the edge of the cot. He trailed his fingers through my hair.

“I am sorry, Master,” I whispered.

“I should have foreseen the possibilities. It is my fault, Kitten.” There was a long silent pause as he stroked my hair, “They are not going to let me take you home.”

I turned my face away from him. I was amazed at how that hurt. It was not staying here or the possibility of death, but the pain from not seeing him again, to be taken away from him.

His firm fingers forced my eyes toward his, “In a few minutes, they are going to come in here and remove the chains. I will remove the collar and tags.”

“So I am to be executed?” my voice was dull.

“No, Rose” his smile was sad, “I have found proof. You were not a criminal; you should not be a slave. You are a free woman — a free woman with the right to defend yourself. You will be free tonight.”

“To go home with you, Master?” my head was spinning with this news.

“No,” he pulled his hand away from me and stood up, distancing himself from me. “I am not your Master. You will be given some clothing, some money….”

I sat up on the cot, “But I don’t remember who I am…or was… or what I did? Where am I supposed to go?”

Alex shrugged, “They don’t exactly have a reintroduction program, but they may. I doubt they will toss you onto the street. There will be someone to walk you back into your life.”

“What about you?” I asked. Who would do for him all the things I had done? Who knew him like I did?

“The same as before I had you. But I did what I set out to do. I proved there was a ring of officials that would kidnap young women and get them into the criminal system for profit. Even now, the ringleaders are being arrested. I have the scoop on it, I have already had a book offer,” he reached around and unlocked the collar from my neck. I felt naked.

The cold realization hit me, “I was just part of a project? An investigation?”

I could see a quick range of emotions cross his face. His reply was cold and brittle, “That’s about the sum of it. Take care kitten.” He walked out quickly, but I saw the tear he tried to hide.

I wondered why men think that if they make you mad, it’s somehow better than anything else? Didn’t he realize that I had come to love him? Not just the sex, even though it was great. Not just the way the cool command of his voice could get me wet and eager, nor the utterly confusing way I looked forward to the caress of leather on my skin, holding me down and open for his use but for everything. I loved him for waking up next to him in the morning, feeling his warmth, for the wondrous contentment of evenings reading or painting near him until he shifted just so, closed his book or turned off the computer and looked at me. For the way he smiled when I served a meal I knew he liked. I had come to love everything about him…. and now he was leaving just like that?

The guards came and with much more courteousness than before they released me. I began to cry. They thought I was crying in joy. They had no idea. I was given clothing and it felt so terribly odd to be that covered. I was taken out; there were papers I signed, not caring.

Days passed in a dull blur. I was given identity papers and brought to an apartment they told me was mine. In time, I was in an office, doing computer work, pretending that this was normal, when my heart ached to be back at his feet. I would get home and remove the clothes and curl up on the floor by the chair, pretending, but it did not work.

Seasons came and passed until I could take it no longer. One day, I did not go to work, but found my way to the airport, and from there to his city. I spent several days wandering the city, walking, thinking, feeling more alive now than I had since that night in the cell.

One afternoon, I found myself in front of his house. Unable to stop myself, I walked up to the door and checked the place he used to keep the spare key for me. My fingers touched cold metal. Was this some dream? I unlocked the door and entered. It was the same as I remembered it. I wandered from room to room, seeing what had changed or not. He had framed one of my paintings. My knitting remained in a basket near the fireplace.

The clock struck five. He would be home soon. I could leave and return to my life as Alice. He would never need to know I had visited. I laughed at the thought. Unless he sent me away again, I would not return to that dull and colorless life. I removed each layer of my clothing, carefully folding it up and setting it on the couch. It felt wonderful to feel so free again. I hurried and put together a tray of afternoon snacks for him and placed them by his chair. And then I knelt and waited, hearing his familiar steps outside, the rattle of his key, the opening of the door. I could feel my eagerness jump and almost smell my own arousal. I trembled in eagerness and fear. Would he order me to leave?

“My Pet!” he breathed the two words in soft amazement. I knew I was home.

Leave a Reply* Marked items are required