Fast asleep.
For about the tenth time she debated whether to call out and wake him up, but his final words to her as he checked the straps on her body and prepared himself for bed, had been quite unambiguous, “If you make any noise and wake me up, I shall gag you.”
From where she sat, Moira could see the thick leather cylinder sitting on the bedside table and knew it could be in her mouth in seconds if she chose to disobey his instruction.
Or, rather, would be in her mouth, because David had proven himself to be a man of his word.
If he said he would gag her if she woke him up, then he would.
She definitely didn’t want to be gagged as well as tied to the chair and so, also for about the tenth time, reluctantly gave up the idea of waking him.
To judge from the light filtering through the drawn curtains, she thought it must be around late morning, which wasn’t a surprise because David hadn’t gone to bed until the early hours, after spreadeagling her to the same bed he now occupied and toying with her and arousing her and taking her for hours and hours.
The memory of his hands and lips on her defenceless body kindled a warm glow in her belly and she wriggled her bottom on the hard seat, wondering what else he might do to her when he woke up.
Tied as she was, there were any number of possibilities and she was in no position to resist any of them.
Stimulated by her thoughts, time passed quickly for the newly enslaved brunette until, at last, the bed covers were thrown back and her husband and Master sat up, his eyes going immediately to her tightly tied body.
“Good morning, my beautiful slave-girl,” he grinned, “I hope you had a pleasant night.”
Moira hadn’t, but knew there was no point complaining.
“Good morning,” she hesitated fractionally, “Master.” She dropped her eyes, feeling the tingle of excitement she always felt when she used the title he insisted upon.
His eyes wandered to the clock and he started, “Good grief. It’s nearly two o’clock in the afternoon. We’d better hurry, Moira. There are things to do if we’re going to have you ready.” He jumped out of bed and padded, naked, across to her.
“Ready, Master?” she asked cautiously, “Ready for what?”
“No time for that now,” he replied briskly, “I’ll tell you later.” He began to untie her.
Moira tried again. “Master?” she began, “What are you...?”
“Not now, slave-girl,” he interrupted sharply. “No more questions, or I might decide you need help to keep quiet.” He nodded towards the gag on the bedside table.
She shivered and shut her mouth tightly, her curiosity unsatisfied.
As soon as she was free, he helped her to her feet and steered her towards the shower, following her into the glass-walled cubicle.
“Wrists behind your back, please,” he ordered calmly and when Moira obeyed, locked her cuffs together and switched on the water jets.
When the warm sprays had thoroughly soaked her body and streamed in rivulets down her body, he turned the water off and began to soap her, his fingers sliding easily over her shoulders and down to her offered breasts, toying with her nipples until they hardened and she began to pant to the delightful stimulation.
His bathing of her had become a daily routine and Moira enjoyed it almost as much as he did, although at first she had been terribly embarrassed to be tied up as he played with her.
Especially when she realised that he would continue to arouse her breasts until she could stand no more and spread her legs, submitting herself voluntarily to his touch.
When she had challenged him about it, he had simply smiled and agreed that she was right and she had felt a thrilling helplessness as he told her that it was an essential part of her training as his slave-girl and ignored her weak protests.
As always, Moira tried to control her increasing desire as her nipples stiffened and sent waves of arousal through her body, but her surrender was inevitable and by no means unwelcome, for she loved David and, despite everything that had happened, still harboured a fond belief that his avowed aim of enslaving her was just some kind of male domination fantasy.
One which she was confident she would be able to persuade him to give up as soon as they were at home together and away from what she was sure was just the unreal atmosphere of the Bondage Hotel.
His right hand slid between her legs and as his fingers explored her, she moaned in pleasure and melted against him, her tongue licking his broad chest as he brought her to climax and her belly pulsed in delicious spasms of surrender.
David chuckled softly. “You’re getting used to this, Moira,” he grinned,” You really like being my sexy little slave-girl, don’t you?”
Moira smiled lovingly up into his eyes, “Mm, yes darling. I love it when you make me come for you and when I’m tied up, I don’t have any choice, do I?”
“Not much,” he agreed cheerfully. “That’s why I do it. So that I’m in charge and you have to obey.”
“Yes, I know,” Moira smiled brightly. “And I do obey, don’t I, Master?”
“You’d better,” he told her firmly, “Or I might just have to spank you or something.”
Moira blushed and wriggled, suspecting that he really would spank her and wondering how it would feel, then thrust the preposterous idea away.
He had better not even think about it, far less actually do it.
Real slaves like Hazel and Giselle might perhaps be spanked, but she was married to David and that was completely different...or so Moira assumed.
As David fetched a fluffy towel and dried her, Moira convinced herself that she was right, but couldn’t help feeling a sneaking excitement at imagining herself tied up and face down over his knee with his hand smacking across her defenceless bottom.
Maybe, just once, she would let him spank her.
Just to see how it felt.
Not as a punishment, of course, but for fun.
An experiment.
He would no doubt love it and who knew, she might like it, too.
She’d think it over it and make her mind up later.
After they left the Bondage Hotel.
Back in the bedroom, Moira watched as David dressed, then giggled as he went to the wardrobe and selected her most blatantly sexual underwear.
He unlocked her wrist cuffs and handed her the two filmy garments, “Put these on, please.”
Smiling, Moira fitted the scarlet lace of the strapless half cup bra to her breasts, the firm underwiring pushing her breasts upwards and out and proffering her barely covered nipples lewdly, then took the matching G-string, stepped into it and positioned the tiny triangle of fabric over her sex, ensuring the three thin straps fitted snugly over her hips and between her thighs and the crack of her exposed buttocks.
Finished, she made a slow twirl in front of him, well aware of his eyes drinking in the brazen thrusts of her breasts and the strap bisecting her naked bottom cheeks.
“Well, oh mighty Master,” she laughed, “What do you think, then?”
David grinned widely, “I like it. Very suitable for a slave-girl. Come here a moment.”
His hands went to her wrists, pulled them behind her back and locked her cuffs, “Yes,” he went on, “Highly appropriate for a slave’s first public appearance.”
Moira froze, then gasped, “P...Public appear...appearance?”
“Mm,” David said softly, “This afternoon, when we go down for tea.”
Moira’s jaw dropped and she goggled at her husband, her shock absolute.
At last, she found words, “I can’t go down like this.” she yelped, “Dammit, David, I won’t. I just won’t.”
“Won’t you, my love?” he asked gently, “Not even if your Master orders you?”
Her eyes bulged and her throat worked convulsively as Moira understood that she could not actually stop him if he was set on taking her downstairs.
He was bigger and far stronger than she was and her arms were chaine
d behind her back.
“Now, hold on, David...” she began, but he broke in, “Master. You must call me Master, my sweet.”
Moira gulped and changed her tact, “Yes, Master,” she whispered, “I w...will call you Master and...and I will o...obey you, but please, please don’t make me go down like this. I’d be so ash...ashamed for anyone else to see me like this.”
“Very well,” he agreed, “If you would rather be completely naked...?”
“No. Oh my God, no.” Moira’s shrill squeal of horror told what she thought of his alternative. “Not naked. You can’t. You can’t do this to me. Please, darling, please, I’m begging you. I’ll...I’ll do anything you want. Anything, but please, please don’t strip me.”
“But you are my slave-girl, Moira,” he teased her cruelly. “Slaves are often kept naked if their Masters choose, aren’t they, darling? And I love to see your body.”
Moira whimpered in anguish and terror, her eyes filling with tears and she fell to her knees before him in desperation. “Yes, Master,” she groaned, “I’m your slave-girl and I’ll do whatever you say. Really I will. But...But I only want you to see me naked. Not other people. Please, Master.”
She stared pleadingly up at him as he rubbed his chin consideringly.
“All right then, slave-girl,” he said at length and Moira exhaled in relief. “Not naked. You can keep those things on. But,” his voice hardened, “In return, you must promise to do exactly what I tell you. Right?”
Moira swallowed nervously, weighing the small concession she had won against the unknown risk of promising to obey. “Uh. Wh...What do you w...want me to do, M...Master,” she stammered.
“All you have to do is promise to obey,” he told her curtly.
“Well, yes, but...”
“Make your mind up, it’s nearly time to go down.”
Thrown into a panic by the thought of being naked in front of the other guests, Moira made her hasty decision, hoping against hope that it wasn’t the wrong one. “I’ll...I’ll obey, Master, I promise,” she said licking lips that had suddenly become dry as dust.
“Good, that’s settled, then,” David reached down and helped his anxious wife and slave-girl to her feet. “Now this is what we’re going to do……..”
As he explained what he wanted and her role became clear to her, Moira was at first stunned, then outraged.
Her protests grew more and more furious and increasingly loud, but were met with smiling inflexibility until she at last lapsed into a sulky silence, understanding that he was quite determined to make her do as he wished, no matter how strongly she objected.
Ordered to kneel, she watched glumly as her ankle cuffs were locked together, then could do nothing as he strode to the door and went out, assuring her that he would only be a moment.
His return brought another shock for Moira and her jaw dropped as she saw the tethering chain rising from his hand to the track in the ceiling above.
More protests rose to her lips, but remained unspoken as she had to accept that they would do no good and she shivered in anguish as he snapped the attached padlock to her slave collar.
“There now,” he said cheerfully and bent to release her ankles. “All set for tea.”
Moira stared up at her husband and Master and her eyes grew round to the knowledge that her chained, collared, nearly naked body was to be put on display to the other guests.
At the command...and for the pleasure...of the man she loved.
Deep in her belly, fear and excitement mingled inextricably, kindling a fierce blaze of heat and Moira gasped, her face reddening as she felt the power of her own shameful and unwanted arousal.
David smiled sympathetically as Moira’s face and body betrayed her desire and he lifted her to her feet, his lips crushing hers in a passionate kiss.
“Yes,” he said, releasing her, “I know, my darling. It is exciting, isn’t it? Ever since we grew up I’ve always wanted you as my slave-girl and now you wear my collar and call me Master. It is my greatest fantasy, my love and I am so proud and grateful.”
Moira’s eyes sparkled with tears as he spoke and her voice quivered with emotion to the racing of her pulse as she whispered softly, “I love you, Master. I have always loved you. Free or enslaved, I am yours and will always be yours. I...I am...ready, Master.”
He nodded slowly. “I am a very lucky man,” he told her sincerely. “Come, slave-girl, let us go down and show the others just how fortunate I am.”
He walked to the door and waited as Moira prepared herself for the ordeal before her.
She took a deep, calming breath and straightened her spine, then, with a rattle of chain from the tether linking her to the ceiling track, Moira, the slave-girl, walked from the room and towards her destiny…
The dining room was full, every guest present, Hazel and Giselle serving tea under the watchful gaze of Miles and Anton, the air full of conversation and good-natured laughter.
As Moira entered and followed her Master to his table, the hum of talk died away and every head turned to watch the slim brunette, experienced eyes drinking in her trim body and the glittering chains adorning her limbs and throat, each brain assessing the extent of her submission.
Moira fixed her eyes on her Master’s broad back, not daring to look right or left, her face crimson with embarrassment, intensely aware of the eyes upon her body in its revealing costume…..and of her suddenly changed status within the group.
As David sat in his chair, she hurried to his side and went to her knees, spreading her thighs and pulling her shoulders back into the submission position she had been taught by him.
At the last second, running out of nerve, she could not quite bring herself to raise her head as she knew she ought, but hoped it would not be noticed.
It was.
“Head up, slave,” David commanded softly, “Show your full beauty to your Master,” and Moira had no choice but to comply, crushing down her shame and feeling her arousal building higher as she displayed herself as a complete and obedient slave.
As she did so, there was a brief round of applause from all sides and while Moira blushed redly, her Master basked in the congratulations of the other dominants as he explained the details of her subjugation and enslavement.
Kneeling as a slave-girl and not having been given permission to speak, Moira had to endure the humiliation of hearing her submissive tendencies discussed as if she was not even present and her body trembled as the dominant men and women gazed openly at her out-thrust breasts and naked buttocks.
“Congratulations, Mr. Lawrence.”
“Yes, well done, old chap.”
“Where did you get her collar and cuffs made? They’re delightful.”
“A bondage bride, I hear? What a sensible way to begin a marriage.”
“Yes, but what about after the honeymoon? You won’t set her free, surely?”
“You’d be a fool if you did. She has all the makings of an outstanding slave.”
Moira shuddered as David explained that her slavery was indeed permanent and could not prevent her belly quivering as he confirmed that their new home already had a dungeon built into the cellar and that there were more than enough chains and locks to ensure that her life of captivity and subjugation was to continue indefinitely.
“Excellent. It would be crazy to waste such potential.”
“I agree. She’s a natural. Look how aroused she already is.”
Moira could not have denied the words, even if she had been allowed to speak, for her belly burned with all too obvious need and her nipples pressed shamefully hard against the scarlet lace of her flimsy bra, the erect buttons plainly visible to even a casual glance.
At length, their initial curiosity sated, people drifted slowly back to their own tables and Moira began to relax slightly.
Hazel hurried over, bare breasted and with her tiny black and white apron offering tantalising glimpses of her curly red pubic hair, “Would you like tea, Sir? Anything els
e?”
David ordered toasted teacakes, a favourite of Moira’s and as Hazel took the order, her eyes strayed to the kneeling brunette and she gave a brief, almost conspiratorial smile as if to cheer up and encourage her new sister in bondage.
The kindly gesture, from one slave to another, extinguished Moira’s last, lingering doubts.
Hazel was, without the slightest question, a slave and so too, now, was Moira herself.
She looked up at her Master and nodded her head as he smiled calmly down at her.
His smile broadened, but he did not speak and she knew that he understood.
He knew, as she did, that the final decision was made, the unspoken pact agreed.
A new slave-girl knelt beside her Master’s chair, content in her willing submission to his dominance.
Hazel returned with a tray and as Moira caught her eye and smiled, the redhead grinned back in delight before hurrying away.
David buttered a teacake and took a large bite, then broke off a piece and held it out towards his slave-girl.
Moira flushed, but hesitated for only a second, realising the significance of being fed by her Master, then bent gracefully forward and took the food from his fingers, the deliciously submissive act adding to the erotic warmth coiling in her belly.
He fed her several more pieces and as the strangeness of being hand fed wore off, she began to thoroughly enjoy herself, daring to kiss and lick his fingers each time.
With her hands chained behind her back, she could not feed herself and there was definite excitement in being so totally dependent on her Master.
Without him, she would have to go hungry and she even found herself wondering if he could ever be strong enough to let her go hungry deliberately, in order to strengthen his hold over her and make her do whatever her commanded, no matter how shameful, or how unwilling she might be.
She bit her lower lip anxiously, suspecting that he just might.
He was certainly very, very determined.
Perhaps it would be better not to test him...
“Last piece,” he said, holding it out to her and when she took it, added, “Don’t move. I won’t be long.”
Bondage Hotel Page 17
