by Diana Hunter
“I know you did…Master.” She stressed the last word, grinning. Swallowing the last of her drink, she stood to clear the plates. “I think I just put it out of my mind, however.” She stopped and turned around. “But you’ll teach me? So that I know what to do?”
“That’s important to you, isn’t it? Knowing what to do, what to say.”
She nodded and came back for the glasses, clearing the rest of the lunch stuff as well. “It is.” She grimaced and there was no mirth in her eyes. “I don’t play the fool well. That’s probably why I’m not a very good storyteller. Being the center of attention and then messing up is one of my worst nightmares.”
He stood and kissed her on the top of her head. “Well, then, slave. Since tonight you will definitely be the center of attention, we’ll just have to make sure you don’t ‘mess up’.”
Her nerves calmed somewhat at that. Of course she was going to be examined tonight—just as he’d been given a thorough going over the night before. But if he was going to show her the ropes, figuratively speaking, then maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.
In the living room, he began pushing furniture this way and that, and she helped, creating a rather large space against the short side of the room. Finally, he was satisfied and he led her into the bedroom. She now wore the wider collar she actually preferred. Symbolic as they both were, this one’s presence around her neck was a more physical reminder of her status—a status she increasingly enjoyed.
“Time to put you on the shelf, slave.” A thrill ran through her—he was finished with her for now. Of course, as soon as she knew that, desire peeked its head out. But she said nothing, simply holding out her hands and legs in turn so he could attach her wrist and ankle cuffs, locking them into place on her limbs. Locking wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle, he had her lie down on the bed. Taking up the “Y” chain she had worn the weekend before, he fastened her arms to her neck and bid her roll over.
She complied, awkwardly, but with his help, got onto her stomach. He now fastened a length of chain from the headboard to her D-ring—then fastened her ankles with another short length of chain to the footboard.
“Sleep if you can, slave,” he told her on his way out the door. “Tonight will be a long night for you.”
The directions sounded ominous, but he was gone and she did not call him back. She recalled the words he had spoken a while ago—after a particularly erotic evening. Phillip had warned her then that someday she’d meet other masters—apparently ‘someday’ was today. And now he expected her to sleep?
Sarah’s mind tossed from one topic to the next as she lay still, chained to the bed. Wait! He hadn’t trained her at all yet. Was her role as a submissive hostess different from that of a normal hostess? She was sure there must be protocols she should follow. But she was on the shelf and her master did not expect to hear a sound from her.
There was a certain excitement at being thus treated and she had already accepted the fact that her body fell first to his control and then her mind. Every handling of her took her to new places inside herself—a journey of discovery that stretched her boundaries and taught her insights about her personality she never before considered.
Take what he said last night, for example. That her shyness was just another form of submissiveness. That had rankled for a bit, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized he was right. Long ago, she had accepted her nature as being the ‘quiet type’ and had not delved any deeper than that. But Phillip was not satisfied with only surface reflections. His observation made her see that she had always been the observer—she watched people, and when they needed something, she was there. In fact, Beth had commented on it several times—how Sarah always seemed to know what people needed without being told.
Sarah also thought about how she always gave in to Beth’s desires when the two of them planned an evening. Even with her husband, if Sarah wanted one thing, but her partner wanted something different, she usually caved in. Of course, with Tom, it was more equal—he acquiesced to her as often as she gave in to him. But not with Beth.
A sudden thought occurred to her and her jaw dropped open. Could Beth be a Dominatrix? Was it possible? She thought about her friend’s relationship with Paul—he was so easy going, could he be…No. Her mind would not go there.
What about Phillip’s friends tonight? If there were masters coming, would there also be slaves? What would they look like? Her mind conjured Hollywood images of slave harems. No, she decided. Phillip’s living room didn’t look any more like the stereotypical harem than his dungeon looked like the stereotypical dungeon. Try as she might, she had no idea what his friends would be like.
In spite of herself, she knew that her thoughts, along with her helpless position, were working their magic on her. Her thoughts continued to swirl as desire ached between her legs. Like an itch she could not scratch, it remained just under the surface as finally, she fell asleep.
* * * * *
His gentle kiss woke her. Breathing deeply, she smelled soap on him and her eyes flew open, momentarily confused—was it morning? No, the light was wrong. The party! He was releasing her, removing first her ankle cuffs, then the bindings on her wrist. She rolled over and he undid the chain from her collar.
“I checked on you several times, and you were sound asleep,” he told her. “I even took my shower and dressed—you never moved.”
“Cleaning is tiring work, Sir!”
He sniffed the air. “And sweaty—go take your shower and be sure to run the razor over all important parts. Your clothes will be on the bed for you,” he called after her as she hurried into the bathroom.
In short order she had freshened up and taken her shower, returning to the bedroom to dress. Her black garter belt and stockings waited for her—and a black bra. Quickly she donned them, slipping into the heels he set out for her. Usually these were her church shoes, but she had to admit, they added to the overall sexy look.
She fastened the bra in place, then turned it around to pull the cups up over her breasts. Except there seemed to be something wrong with the undergarment. A huge hole was cut in each cup. Well, maybe the hole wasn’t huge, but certainly as big as a quarter. Upon closer examination, she realized they had been designed that way; the hole was neatly finished off. Blushing, she understood what must go there. With another twist, she seated her nipples in the center of each hole. The exposure to the air when the surrounding breast was covered caused the nipples to stand straight out. His intention, no doubt, she thought.
But there were no more clothes on the bed. Surely he did not mean to make her greet his guests looking so wanton. Hearing his step, she called out to him, “Master, I don’t see the rest of my clothes—what else did you want me to wear?”
His hands on her waist made her jump. She hadn’t realized he had entered the room. “No need to shout,” he murmured into her hair as he put his arms around her and ran his fingertips over her exposed nipples. While such a fondling usually caused her to grow weak in the knees, tonight she was too nervous to settle. When she didn’t relax, he turned her to face him.
“You are my property and I wish to show you off. I told you I would. Last week you said you would be willing to be naked in front of people. Are you saying now you aren’t?”
She opened her mouth with the intention of saying exactly that. The sane and rational side of her raged against appearing in public like this—even if it were only for six people other than themselves. Yes, she said last week that she wanted to do this—someday. Not now! How could she? But even as the rational side railed inside her head, the wanton side of her wanted this—and not only wanted it, but was pleased that he was proud of her and wanted to show her off. The wanton got the words out first: “I can do this, Master—for you.”
“Good.” He bent down and kissed her. “Let me fasten your collar.” She obediently lifted her hair and raised her neck, lowering her shoulders as he wrapped it around and fastened it, the snick of the lock sending sh
ivers through her for an entirely different reason than normal. This was no game tonight; this was for real and she was scared.
He attached the heavy chain leash to the D-ring and had just finished putting on her ankle cuffs when there was a knocking at the door. He checked his watch. “Figures. That’ll be Aleshia and Anton—she’s always early.” He stood and started for the door. “Finish putting on your cuffs, then sit there till I come for you.”
She suddenly wanted to sit here all night. With trembling fingers, she attached the cuffs, having to make several attempts in her nervousness to close the locks. By the time she was done, she was sure everyone was here. Still, she sat on the edge of the bed, balefully watching the door as if her doom were about to enter.
But it was only Phillip. His manner was brusque. “Stand, slave.” She did so, her hands at her side, opening and closing, clenching the air in her fear.
“Sir…you didn’t, I mean, there wasn’t time for training this afternoon. I don’t know what to do—or say to them.”
He nodded. “You do what I tell you to do—and nothing more, slave. Understood?”
Her lip trembling, she nodded.
“And as to what to say, I’ve given that some thought and have come up with a way to calm your anxieties.” He turned her by the shoulders and she felt his hand press something against her mouth. The bit! Automatically, her mouth opened and he seated it quickly, drawing her hair back and letting the straps hold her mane away from her face. She heard the snick of a lock close and realized her mouth was bound. He had indeed taken care of the problem: she could not speak to the guests tonight.
He pulled her arms back and fastened her wrist cuffs to one another. With her shoulders now pulled back a bit, the bra cut into her breasts slightly and pushed her nipples out for all to see. In spite of her fear, or maybe because of it, she felt a gush of fluid between her legs.
Turning her to face him, he gave her one last instruction, “Just do what I tell you to do, slave. I will not let you come to harm.”
She nodded, her butterflies showing in the whites of her eyes. With pride, he pulled on her leash and she followed him out the door.
This whole evening was so out of her purview, she had given up trying to imagine it earlier. There were just too many unknowns. But now reality spread itself before her as she entered the brightly-lit living room.
Three couples sat ranged around the room. Two men sat in the chairs she and Phillip had put against the front wall earlier. She was struck, not so much by their appearance as their bearing. Both sat with the same ease and grace she’d seen in Phillip—a natural grace that emanated power. A woman sat on the floor beside each of them.
On the couch opposite, reclined a beautiful woman, her black hair pulled away from her face in a soft bun that accentuated her rather sharp features. She also had that aura of power. Beside her, a man knelt on the floor. Sarah’s eyes grew wide at that. She was just beginning to understand her own need for submission—why on earth would a man want to submit to a woman?
And then her gaze fell on the space that had been empty when Phillip had put her “on the shelf.” It was empty no longer. At the far end of the room, lit with all the spotlights from the track lighting above, was the tall cage. Black iron bars gleamed in the soft light, its open door just waiting for someone to cross its threshold. She almost cried as she realized who that someone would be and what her master had meant when he had told her she would be on display.
“May I present my new slave, Sarah Jackson-Parker,” he announced and a shock went through her being—he told them her name. How could he expose her like that? But then rational thought took hold. What else did she expect him to say? Didn’t she introduce him the night before by his whole name? It was what normal people did. Except she did not feel normal. Not at all.
She trembled and he knew it. Moving his hand up her leash, he pulled her forward. While he stood in the center of the room, he guided her so that she was forced to make a full circle around the room.
“Meet my fellow Masters and Mistress, slave.” He knew this was hard for her, yet she was enduring it beautifully. Her steps were tentative and slow, but he was patient. Once she had made a full circuit, he pulled her into a second one, this time pulling up on her chain and making her stop before the first master.
“This is Master William, slave. Bow to him.” He had not warned her of this, wanting to test her resolve. In future meetings with his friends, he would test her much more severely. But tonight it would be enough just for her to acknowledge their presence.
She didn’t want to meet them. It was hard enough being displayed so wantonly, her nipples standing out straight, her freshly-shaven mound glimmering in its nakedness. She wished he would just put her in the blasted cage and be done with it. Her mind could slink off then, pretend she wasn’t really here, wasn’t really mostly naked before so many strange eyes.
But he had given her a command—and she didn’t want to embarrass him by not obeying. So she turned, keeping her eyes downcast so she wouldn’t have to see Master William looking at her, and bowed from the waist, her legs pressed tightly together.
“Look at me, slave Sarah.” Master William’s voice held the same raw power as Phillip’s. She didn’t want to look, but found her gaze drifting upward until her eyes met his. His eyes looked at her kindly, with no trace of the lewdness she expected to find. He smiled at her and her face softened.
“This is my slave.” He gestured to the woman beside him who knelt in a very familiar position. She was clothed, Sarah noted, in comfortable jeans and a pullover sweater, a pretty leather collar around her neck. Short, wavy hair neatly framed her pert face. “Her name is Jillean.” His hand brushed the top of his slave’s head. “Jill, say hello to slave Sarah.”
The woman stood with the practiced ease of one who had been rising from such a low level for years. Sarah watched her face and saw a welcoming calmness in the woman’s deep brown eyes. The slave put her hands on Sarah’s shoulders and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek.
The tender understanding in the gesture touched her and tears formed in Sarah’s eyes. As Jill pulled away and returned to her former position, Sarah wished she could thank her, except the bit prevented her. But a nod from the now-kneeling slave made her realize the slave understood.
Phillip was also touched by Master William’s gesture with his slave. Will and he had been friends for over a decade—in fact, the other master had been Phillip’s mentor when he first admitted his need to dominate in a relationship. As Phillip pulled on Sarah’s chain to take her to the next master, Will winked at him and he knew he had his mentor’s approval.
“This is Master Dominic, slave. Bow to him.”
Master William and Jill had done a great deal to ease her mind, so this time Sarah was able to turn and bow without hesitation. She looked up into Master Dominic’s eyes, but did not find the same kindness Master William had shown her. His eyes flashed when she looked at him—was it anger? Had she done something wrong?
With a curt gesture, Master Dominic waved his hand in the general direction of the woman at his side. “This is Cora.”
Sarah looked down at the slave-woman kneeling rigidly beside her master. She was dressed more provocatively than the others in the room; a short skirt barely covered her ass, the neckline of the sweater plunged about as deep as it could go and still remain fastened in the front. She also wore a collar, but one of steel. A leash attached to it, the other end held casually in Master Dominic’s hand. As Cora stood, she teetered just a bit, then straightened. She did not look at Sarah—in fact, she looked at no one, just kept her gaze straight down. So Sarah saw what Cora did not—a slight narrowing of Master Dominic’s eyes at her ever-so-slight lack of grace. Now Sarah was glad for the bit, or she would have had a few words for the man who slouched in the chair.
Sarah was not in a position to initiate anything, but if she had been, she would have given Cora a hug for being beside such a lout. First impress
ions were important, she knew—for her first impression of this man was not a good one. Cora barely came to her shoulder, her shoulder-length black hair hanging loosely about her face. Executing a simple bow to Sarah, Cora returned to her position.
As Phillip tugged on her leash again, she tried to catch his glance to signal a question to him, but he studiously avoided her eye. Master Dominic and he had had several disagreements on both how to train a slave and how to keep one—and that was the reason he had invited him tonight. Part of him was vain enough to want Sarah to see what life could be like if he wasn’t such a nice guy.
“Lady Aleshia, this is my new slave.”
Sarah stopped before the woman and bowed as she had to each of the men. Like the Masters, she was simply dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, but Sarah could easily imagine her in latex, thigh high boots and all. Red nail polish gleamed on the tips of her fingers as she idly played with her slave’s hair.
“And this is my slave, Anton.”
Anton stood…and stood…and stood. Sarah’s eyes traveled up and up as the slave towered over her. The man must stand at least six foot six! She had no idea how tall the other masters were, as they had remained seated. Gazing back and forth between Phillip and the slave, she realized he had several inches on her own master. She saw he also wore a simple leather collar that looked quite attractive on him.
The male slave bent down and kissed the opposite cheek that Jill had welcomed. Like the other slaves, he did not speak, but as he pulled away, he grinned and dimples graced his cheeks. In spite of the bit in her mouth, Sarah found herself answering his smile with one of her own.
Some of her tension melted away as Phillip pulled again on her leash, taking her to the cage. Lightly she stepped inside, turning to face the front. Phillip swung the door shut and turned the key.
For a moment, Sarah relaxed. She made it. She had crossed the room and gotten into the cage where she expected she would remain for the rest of the evening. Nothing to do, and with the bit in her mouth, nothing to say. No way to mess things up. Quietly, she sighed.
