(C) 2007 Rachel Gumm. You may freely distribute this story digitally, but only in full, crediting me as the author. Please send feedback to me through the link below- it makes writing these worthwhile.
"This is it," said Cheap Toy defiantly as soon as she heard her master unlocking his front door. "I'm leaving you. You hear that? We're splitting up. You and I are finished. I mean it this time." She closed the novel she was re-reading for the fifth or sixth time, an erotic tale of a naive young woman's descent into forced sexual slavery, and returned it to its place on her master's bookshelf before sitting back down again on his couch.
After locking the front door behind him, Trent simply stood there, facing her. She hated the way he looked at her, like she was merely a possession, or perhaps a pet animal that needed to be trained. She could tell he was also admiring her body, although he never told her how fond he was of her curves.
Cheap Toy shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her arms for warmth. He'd picked out her bright turquoise bikini for her to wear again today, and although she'd resolved a few hours ago not to play along with his stupid mind games anymore, he always locked their wardrobes, the same way he locked the cabinet with the TV set inside it. As her only other choice had been to take the bikini off and walk around completely naked, she'd left it on.
"No, you don't. You'll never leave me." Trent's voice was as calm as ever.
Cheap Toy felt her frustration growing. "Look, it's been fun in places, but this relationship isn't good for me. I need a lover, not just a heartless master. So get this damn collar off me, and these cuffs, and I'll just go."
She would have simply walked out while he was at work, never to return, but she couldn't leave in her current condition. For a start, he always locked his front door, and it needed a key to be opened even from the inside. Then there was her lack of any real clothes. It had been months since she'd last worn something she could be seen wearing in public.
Most importantly, there were her restraints. She was permanently locked in a steel collar and matching wrist and ankle cuffs that had all been screwed shut. A long chain currently connected her left ankle cuff to a floor hook in the middle of the lounge, tethering her to the flat. She could still reach everything that wasn't locked away, but she couldn't leave her master's home.
She had full access to the kitchen and bathroom, but not to any clothes or entertainment except what her master permitted her to wear, read, or watch. For far too long her life had consisted of menial housework, reading erotic novels about slaves and occasionally being allowed to watch sadomasochistic pornography or even a proper film. The only alternative was to sit and stare at the walls, try to sleep, or pleasure herself. Given her only available entertainment, she'd been pleasuring herself more and more as the months drew on, looking at herself in the bedroom's full length mirror as she groped and fondled herself, her chain rattling to remind her of what she was: someone's possession.
"Where would you go?" Trent placed his bag on the floor and hung his coat up before walking slowly towards her.
"That's none of your concern," scathed Cheap Toy.
Trent grabbed his slave's leash from a nearby shelf and connected its snap hook to her collar. He gave it a tug, and out of habit she obediently slid off his couch and crawled forwards on her hands and knees, following him to the middle of the room. "You can't leave if you don't have anywhere to go."
When Trent stopped walking, his slave automatically assumed the position he'd trained her to adopt, kneeling down with her legs spread wide open and her back straight. He let go of her leash, watching it dangle down in front of her, gently swaying under her firm breasts. He walked behind her, then knelt down with his knees either side of her. Without warning, he started to squeeze her breasts, relishing how her soft skin felt in his hands.
"Please don't..." begged Cheap Toy as she looked down at his big, masculine hands. She felt her resolve slipping as he fondled her vulnerable, scantily clad body's most pleasurable parts.
"Shut up, you worthless whore." Trent's voice was strong yet never raised, as if he was giving advice rather than arguing. He slid one of his hands down to her crotch and started to rub it, his palm pressed tightly against the smooth fabric of her bikini bottom and his middle finger sliding between her legs. She responded with an encouraging moan and for a second closed her eyes. "You love this, don't you, my little slut?"
"Yes," she whispered, starting to lose herself in the pleasure. She tried to keep focused. "But I deserve more. I deserve a loving partner."
"You don't deserve anything, slave. Only I, your master, can give you what you crave. If someone loved a cheap little whore like you, he wouldn't be able to control you like I do. He wouldn't be able to push you beyond your limits. No lover would be able to satisfy you." He stopped moving his hand.
Cheap Toy started to gently sway her hips, pressing her groin against her master's hand, trying to pick the rhythm back up. "Please, master," she whispered.
"You're pathetic. Please, what? Please cast you out into the cold night, or please resume rubbing your eager little cunt?" He moved his hand away, lifting it up to his face as he closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet aroma of her growing desire. He alternated between kneading her breasts again and tickling her nipples, their outlines just visible through the stretchy fabric of her bikini top.
"Please, master..." repeated his slave as she shivered, but she didn't even know what she was begging for anymore.