Kingston, Sara - Grace's Final Submission [Locks and Chains] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Sara Kingston

  “Again, slave, your pleas will not help you now. You’ll serve your punishment and learn your lesson. Accept it with grace and honor.” Michael pushed her forward and forced her head into the largest cutout in the middle, followed by her wrists in the other two cutouts. He lowered the top panel, locking it in place with a padlock. He removed the key and put it in his pocket. Taking a few steps back, he shook the stockade, making sure everything was secure.

  Grace realized as she felt a breeze on her bare pussy that she was exposed and immediately closed her legs tightly, trying to hide as much of her as possible. Michael made a tsking sound and immediately picked up a bar that had restraints on either end. He positioned the bar at her feet, and she felt him tightening the restraint around her ankle. He pushed her legs apart and did something to the other ankle as he let her leg go. Grace tried to close her legs but the bar kept them apart.

  It then dawned on her that he had placed a spreader bar between her legs, which stopped her from being able to close them. She had no option but to be openly displayed to everyone. “Do you want to use your safe word, slave?” Grace had to think. She was feeling very uncomfortable and embarrassed. In fact, she was overwhelmed. So far tonight she had suffered one humiliating event after another. However, was it really humiliating, or were they truly trying to get her to accept and be proud of her body? Maybe her shyness and fear was holding her back. What would it feel like to love and be proud of her naked body?

  Resolved, she replied, “No, Master.”

  He took what looked like a whiteboard marker from his pocket and walked over to a glass wall in front of her. Grace realized that the wall was used like a whiteboard. It had four columns, and each was numbered. She then looked to her right and saw three other stockades next to hers. Each column represented a stockade. Michael proceeded to write in the first column obviously for her stockade position.

  Slave must learn pride and acceptance of her naked body. A slave shall never hide her body and must display it for anyone her Master commands. Without hesitation!

  Grace’s face paled as she realized the board was in front of her, so not only she could read it, but anyone else who walked past. What a sight, the writing above her head and her pussy and ass on display. At least they can’t see my face. She really was stupid. Did she really think Michael was going to let her get away with disobeying him? He had warned her he was going to teach her about accepting her body, but she’d held on to her fears and didn’t see the big picture.

  To think she thought walking through the club naked was unacceptable. But this, being locked in a stockade naked and on show was a humiliation so deep, she felt shame wash over her. But she had to admit to herself as she stood there and thought through her feelings. The shame was not at being naked or on view for everyone. The shame was for the sexual heat that pounded through her veins. The thought of being so helpless and on display and everyone being able to see her body started a heat in her pussy, and she could feel the moisture building and starting to seep. She groaned at the realization that everyone would soon see just how excited she was.

  She could hear conversations murmuring behind her, and the sounds of the dungeon doors opening as more people entered the room. “There we go, slave, nicely displayed, as every disobedient slave should be.” He patted her behind, and she wanted to scream. She knew she’d gotten herself into this mess but…

  “Now you’ll remain here until you’ve learned pride and acceptance of your body.” On that final note, she heard Michael leave the room and the door close behind him. She tried to turn her head, but she could only look directly in front of her and slightly to the sides. Grace was frustrated and angry. How dare they leave her like this. What did they think she was? Stupidly, she remembered they thought she was a slave. Actually, she was a slave.

  She prayed that Michael and Jason would come back. They couldn’t mean to leave me for long. Obviously, her prayers weren’t going to be answered, and time wore on. So did the many people who walked up behind her. “Look at the slave. What a beautiful pussy. Why on earth would she try to hide this? It was meant to be seen. Her pussy is like a piece of fine art.”

  She then felt hands sliding over her ass cheeks and down her thighs, and she tensed in fear at whose hands they were. “Now, slave, how’s your lesson going?” Jason’s voice calmed her, and she melted into his touch. He started rubbing his fingers on her pussy lips over and over. Grace felt herself getting wet as her juices flowed, and two fingers were pushed inside her overheated core. All thoughts of being on display faded, and a slow simmer of lust burned as Jason’s fingers commenced fucking her pussy. With every inward thrust, the hand’s thumb brushed over her clit, and as the minutes passed, Grace started to thrust back against the hand. “Well, my little slave, see how only your Masters matter, see the joy we can give you if you follow our commands. Now come…Come for your Masters.” Grace felt like her clit had just been delivered an electric shock. With those words, she moaned with the waves of pleasure that engulfed her as her orgasm erupted.

  As she felt her orgasm subside, she became aware there were a number of people behind her and had watched her orgasm. She had no idea how many, but she could hear some of the comments. “It was beautiful that this slave shares her pleasure. When she climaxes, she should be sharing it with everyone, not hiding it. What a waste.” She felt Jason’s hand leave her body, and again she was alone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Grace had no idea how long she’d been in the stockades, but her legs began to cramp. Shuffling from one foot to the other was not relieving the pain anymore, and her body was sweating and shaking. She’d become accustomed to being naked and displayed, and she no longer felt the heat of embarrassment. All the compliments she’d received about her body and the scolding of why she would want to hide it were changing her thought processes. Society as a whole may not accept nudity, but wherever and whenever possible, why not feel the freedom and textures of being naked? Tribes in Africa and the Amazon don’t have an issue with nudity. My body is no different from any other woman’s in the world!

  Michael slowly approached Grace and, seeing her body’s position, knew she would be feeling cramps and stiffness. He needed to push her to her limits to reprogram her mind. She needed to learn to let go of her fear of the rejection of her body. Even though this was a punishment for her, he and Jason had suffered, too. His territorial nature was screaming at him for putting her in such a vulnerable situation and displaying her so fully. He had to push Grace. She was so strong willed only extremes would make her take notice.

  “Slave, have you learnt your lesson about pride and the beauty of your naked body? Have you learnt to accept yourself and not be affected by others’ opinions of you?”

  “Yes, Master Michael.”

  “Very well, then you will need to prove that to me. I’m sure you’re quite hungry by now. Let’s go upstairs and get something to eat.”

  “Yes, thank you, Master.”

  After he removed Grace from the stockade, she straightened and stretched her poor muscles. Michael helped her get circulation back into her arms by rubbing them. Once he was certain she was okay, he walked toward the stairs. Grace followed Michael silently.

  She was no longer concerned about her nudity as they passed people in the club. She was who she was, and her body was what it was, and if anyone didn’t like it, then they could look away. She began to feel pride in her body and enjoyed seeing lust in the eyes of people as she passed by. How many years had she wasted worrying about those few extra pounds or whether gravity and age was stealing her sexiness? Her sexiness came from how she viewed herself and how she moved her body. Straightening her back and pushing back her shoulders, Grace walked with pride in her nakedness. I am woman. I am power. I am beautiful!

  They walked up the stairs to the dining room where Jason was waiting. “Slave, you look beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Master Jason.” They sat down and ate their meal in relative silence. Grace had
many things to think about, things to put to bed in her mind. Master Craig walked over to their table.

  “Good evening, Master Michael, Master Jason, and dear Slave Grace.”

  Grace didn’t know if she was permitted to speak to Master Craig or if she should stay silent. She gave Michael a pleading look, hoping he would understand her unspoken question.

  “Yes, slave, you may speak freely to Master Craig,” he replied, and again Grace was surprised at Michael’s perceptiveness.

  “Good evening, Master Craig. It’s good to be here,” she replied, her smile wide.

  “It seems you’ve found your calling and both your Masters look just as happy,” he commended.

  My true calling, what the hell is he saying? Is it true? Was I born to be a slave to Michael and Jason? Is this my true life path? Am I a slave? She had to admit she did feel a great deal of pleasure from submitting to them. Not having to worry about the little things in life, knowing that someone would take care of everything. Her only real concern was to care and love her Masters. After a few minutes’ conversation with Michael and Jason, none of which Grace heard as she contemplated what Master Craig had said and how it affected her future, she then watched as Craig said his farewells and left them.

  They moved back downstairs to the seating area, and when Grace went to sit down on the chair next to Jason, Michael stopped her.

  “No, my dear slave, you don’t sit there. You are to sit in the rightful place of our slave.”

  Grace turned and looked around the room at all the collared subs and slaves who were sitting on cushions at the feet of their Masters. Great, I don’t even get a chair! Michael kicked a cushion toward the edge of the couch, and Grace lowered herself, positioning her cushion between Jason’s feet and where no doubt Michael was going to sit. She settled herself on the cushion and waited. She took a moment to look up into Michael eyes and saw the pleasure and pride at having her naked at his feet. She glanced at Jason and saw a similar expression. She noticed he gave possessive glances to anyone who looked toward her. He was marking his territory for everyone to see.

  “Masters Michael and Jason, how are you this evening?”

  “We’re very well indeed, Mistress Karen, is this your new pet?” Michael said.

  Grace looked at the man collared at Mistress Karen’s feet. He was blond and blue eyed and had the look of a classic pretty boy. It shocked her, seeing a man, a tall one at that and naked except for a cock ring, collared with a lead to the stereotypical dominatrix. She was no taller than five foot five with a lovely, delicate face and long black hair in a high ponytail. She wore thigh-high black leather boots, a leather corset, and a short leather skirt.

  They looked like the poster couple for BDSM male submission. She tried hard not to look at the slave’s cock, with the small cock ring attached. Which, after closer inspection, she realized was more like a cage. It was hard not to stare. Grace, get a grip for Christ’s sake. You’re staring at another man’s cock. The slave winked at her, and she gasped in shock, at not only being caught staring, but at his obvious satisfaction at the fact that she was.

  “Yes, he’s behaving very well for me. So how is your new slave working out, gentleman, are you enjoying her training?” she asked.

  Grace felt a sudden pang of fear. Did Michael play with male submissives? He did say that he and Jason didn’t play but maybe…What if he wanted to play with another female sub? Could she deal with that? Waves of jealousy flooded her. Was it fair considering he shared her with Jason? She felt jealous about both her men. Racking her memory, she tried to remember in the contract if it stated other persons were allowable. So lost in her thoughts, she missed the entire conversation with Mistress Karen.

  Grace watched as Master Frank moved toward their seating group and sat next to her Masters. She felt her face redden in embarrassment, not that she was ashamed of her body. She had truly resolved that issue. However, to meet someone she’d met before, now naked at the feet of her Masters. What must he think of her? The feelings that bred into her from generations past were still difficult to resolve.

  “Master Frank, and how are you this evening? I saw you having a session with Jane earlier,” Jason said.

  “Yes, I do enjoy playing with the slut now and again,” he replied. Grace jolted with shock at the use of such harsh language. She knew that here, in the Lifestyle, the word “slut” was sometimes used as an endearment or even just a statement of fact, like someone had blonde hair and some had black. Some were pain sluts, some were just sluts.

  “So this is Slave Grace. May I?” Frank enquired.

  “Yes please,” Michael replied. From her training before the auction, she knew that no Master could speak to her directly or touch her without asking permission. As her head was lowered she didn’t know which Michael had given permission for. She prayed that it was not to touch. She definitely didn’t think she was ready for that.

  “Slave Grace, I know that you’re new to the Lifestyle and are in training. How have you adjusted so far?” Frank asked.

  “Yes, Master Frank. I’m very happy with my Masters. I admit it’s been an adjustment, and I have a lot to learn. I’m fortunate that my Masters are patient and forgiving,” she replied.

  The rest of the night was like watching some strange world unfold. People were not ashamed of their desires and needs. It was close to two in the morning by the time they got home and fell into bed.

  Finally, the morning of her first day working in the office had arrived. She had woken them up with her mouth to ensure they were relaxed and sated. Never the selfish lovers, well, Masters really, Jason had returned the favor, and her body was still buzzing from the pleasure. Looking at herself in the mirror, she tried again to pull the hem of her skirt down. While it came to midway on her thighs, she had never worn office attire this short. She knew that questioning them on this would be a mistake though. God, without panties and a skirt this short, I must remember not to bend over in front of anyone or I’ll be giving them a flash.

  “Are you ready to leave, slave?” Michael asked.

  “Yes, Master,” she replied.

  “Now, slave, once we leave this house, we will cease to call you slave until we return. However, you are still our slave and do not forget it. Slave is only a name we choose to use in the privacy of our home, and it wouldn’t be acceptable in the vanilla world,” Michael said as he held a box in his hands. “Master Jason and I have bought you a special gift.”

  Michael opened the box and inside lay the most beautiful gold choker she had ever seen. He withdrew the necklace and placed it around her neck. He then took a gold padlock charm and fixed it to the lock of the choker. It was then Grace realized it was not a charm at all but a jeweled padlock. The necklace was a golden and very expensive collar. To anyone else it would look like a beautiful piece of jewelry, but anyone who understood the Lifestyle would see that she was permanently collared. Grace felt her eyes glisten as she processed her feelings of being owned. Her Masters wanted the world to know that she was owned by them and she was valued. The wedding ring that she had worn faithfully from Duncan never gave her the feelings of safety and security that the collar was giving her right now.

  “Master Jason and myself are the only ones with the key to remove this collar. It cannot be removed by anyone other than us,” Michael commanded.

  “Yes, Master,” she replied.

  “This collar will remind you even in the vanilla world that you are our slave. No name, no title can say more than this collar. It defines who you are to us and your position,” he added.

  “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.” She turned and kissed his hand in a sign of humility and thanks. She turned and did the same to Jason.

  “You are most welcome, Grace,” Jason replied.

  Hearing her name said by her Master after being called slave for so long gave her a jolt, and her hand immediately rose to finger the collar as reassurance.

  She realized she was already using the collar as a
safety line to them at times when she needed reassurance.

  “Let’s get to work,” Jason declared, moving toward the garage.

  The commute to the office didn’t take as long as Grace had thought. Actually, it was a bit too quick. She was very nervous about meeting the staff and was worried they might find out the true nature of her relationship with Michael and Jason. Calm down. No one’s going to point and laugh. No one will know unless you tell them or if they tell them. God, I hope they don’t tell anyone.

  They walked through the lobby of a typical corporate building and rode the elevator to the top floor, which had a large open-plan layout. All the staff they saw on the way through wished a good morning to both of them and a hello to her. She started to relax a little. Grace stroked her collar repeatedly as they walked down toward the executive offices at the end of the corridor. Half of her wanted the world to see it and know what she was. The other half, she didn’t know. She wasn’t ashamed of it. She just didn’t know what she felt.

  “For your first day you’ll be working half the day with me and half with Jason,” Michael declared, pushing open the door to what must be his office.

  Grace was taken aback by the rich dark wood of his desk and other office furniture. In the corner near a leather seating area was a small desk with a computer and phone. Ah! So I’ll be in his office with him, and there I was worrying about working with others.

  Michael walked to his desk and sat down, turning the chair to the side. “Come, Grace, and kneel before me,” Michael demanded in his Dom voice. Grace looked at Jason and back to Michael. Here? She had to kneel here in the office? What the? “If I have to repeat myself, you will be punished,” Michael added. Grace was confused, her thoughts frozen. She was to continue her slave role when out in the vanilla world. What if someone saw her? Why was she supposed to be kneeling?

  “I was worried, Grace, that bringing you here and the name change would set you back,” Michael said, “but I have a fix for that.” Jason took hold of her arm and led her over to Michael and bent her over the desk.