Chapter 1: Taking Her Breath Away

7

When she finished putting away her underwear, she showed him through her other drawers and her closets. He selected a few things to discard, some that were older or poorly made, and a business suit that made her look somewhat frumpy. He held up a ratty t-shirt with holes in it and she said, "No, please, that was from college. It's my favorite." He put it back. He looked through her drawer of sweats and fleeces and said, "The sweatpants will have to go."

"But I wear sweats all the time at home," she said.

"I'll buy you new ones, the boy's kind, with a fly," he said. She understood. Easier access.

"I'll adjust further as I see you in different outfits, and I will certainly be buying you some better suits. Do you have detailed measurements?"

She didn't.

"We'll deal with that later," he said. "If you want to buy anything, look for casual skirts or dresses, and more shirts or blouses or dresses that open in the front. You won't be wearing t-shirts as often, and you already have enough jeans. Think about accessibility in everything you buy."

"Yes, Sir," she said. It was starting to sink in further, what she had agreed to, and it was both intimidating and arousing.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her back straight. She could not bend, and she could not lean over very far without the front of the corset pressing into her pubic bone. But she was also getting used to it, enjoying this entirely new form of restraint. Every breath reminded her of his control.

He took her hand and helped her up, then led her into the living room and knelt her down facing the couch. He had to support her as she dropped to her knees because she could not bend over. With a simple pair of handcuffs he took from his pocket, he cuffed her hands behind her, and then used a small carabiner to clip them a ring in the back of her corset.

He nudged a knee with his foot, telling her to spread her legs wider, then stood behind her. "I'm going to blindfold you now," he said. "Close your eyes."

She did so, and felt soft pads press gently into each eye, held in place by a leather strap he buckled behind her head.

He stepped away and he heard the couch creak slightly as it took his weight. Her legs spread, her breasts raised by the corset and emphasized even more by her arms held behind her back, she waited. After a few minutes, she said, "Sir?"

"I'm here," he said. "Do you need anything?"

"No, Sir," she said. She was to await his pleasure, bound and displayed for him. She felt her juices start to run down her leg. She heard him stand, and felt his presence directly in front of her. She heard him unzip his pants. "Open your mouth," he said.

She obeyed, and felt his cock at her lips. "May I?" she asked. His hand on the back of her head answered her.

She took him in slowly, as he'd been training her, descending his cock as far as she could. She'd been training, practicing with a dildo he'd had her buy, attaching it to the wall and pushing it down her throat as far as possible. She could take it deeper, for longer, and had even developed a technique of breathing around it when it was still buried in her throat.

But she was already short of breath, so when his hand prevented her from lifting her head, she felt a momentary panic. The corset enclosed her so tightly that it was an effort just for her to lean forward and suck his cock. Held down, she tried to relax her throat and open her mouth enough to take a breath. She succeeded but in this position did not feel like she could get enough air. She started to struggle, and he released her head.

With the head of his cock still in her mouth -- his belt had taught her quickly not to let it leave her mouth while she was serving him -- she breathed slowly, as deeply as she could. He waited, his hand in her hair, but did not push her. When she was ready she took him in again, using her tongue on the underside of his cock. She took him all the way, paused, working her tongue, and lifted her mouth to the head of his cock again.

"Very good," he said. She thanked him as best she could with her mouth full, and descended again. His hand held her down again, and he pushed his cock even more deeply into her, making her eyes water. "Tongue," he commanded, and she reached her tongue out to lick, trying to reach his balls and at the same time to draw a breath as her spit ran down her chin. She could not catch her breath though, and started to choke. He again let her up.

She panted, her breath quick on the head of his cock. "It's very hard to breathe, Sir," she said, speaking slowly so as to be understood around his cock. "I'm sorry."

"You're doing very well," he said. "Are you feeling what it means to be an object? To have no control over your own breath?"

"Yes, Sir," she whispered, her tongue touching the tip of his cock as she attempted to make the sibilant. She sank her mouth down on his cock again, gulping as it pushed into her throat, pausing and just barely not choking, before coming up again. She sucked him worshipfully, being his good cocksucker, working harder than ever in her steel-and-leather cage. She felt his hand on her head, knowing that at any moment he could choose to hold her down again.

He was enjoying the feel of her mouth and throat on his cock as she struggled to breathe, but he did not force her too hard. He watched her working, bending stiffly against the stays, tears running down her face from under the blindfold and drool dripping down her chin. He came slow and hard into her mouth, holding her down briefly at climax and releasing her when he was satisfied.

She took a shuddering breath when his cock left her mouth and almost swallowed his come, but caught it in time and displayed it for him on her tongue. He caressed her face, then slipped his fingers into her mouth and forced her jaw wide as he bent her head forward. His come and her drool ran from her mouth, onto her breasts, pushed up and out by the corset. It dripped down over her nipples, down into her cleavage, and he held her like that, as she caught her breath.

She said, "Thank you, Master," as best she could with her jaw held open, and he released her, kissing the top of her head. He wiped come from her breasts and smeared it on her face, then used her hair to wipe his hand and clean her mess off his cock and balls.

He refastened his pants and watched her carefully as her breathing slowed, making sure she wasn't hyperventilating or feeling faint. He said nothing, just watched her.

She could not see him but was sure she could feel his eyes on her. She knelt up straight in the tight restraint, her face and breasts covered with come and drool, her hands still cuffed behind her back so she could not wipe her face. She panted, taking shallow breaths, recovering from his usage of her mouth, aroused by having had his cock in her mouth and by being bound and displayed for him, being a mess for him.

Most of her underwear was in the trash, and her dresser was now full of the expensive slutty underwear she'd be wearing for him from now on. He might fuck her or at least play with the wet cunt displayed to him, but she didn't know what he was doing or where he was looking or what might happen next. She didn't know when he'd allow her to get dressed or what she would be wearing when he did. She didn't even know when she'd be able to take a deep breath.

She breathed evenly. The handcuffs clinked as she shifted her weight on her knees, repositioning herself as best she could in the restraints and without closing her legs. The air cooled her wet cunt and dried the come on her face.

8

She heard him moving around her apartment but he didn't know what he was doing. Then she felt his hand cradle the back of her head and the spout of her water bottle against her lips. "Drink," he said, tilting it for her. She drank most of the bottle as he held it at an angle that didn't flood her mouth. Some did spill, but he did not wipe her face, and she could not.

"Would you like more?" he asked.

"No, thank you, not now," she said. The hand at the back of her head gripped her hair and pulled, tilting her head back.

"Language," he said sternly.

Being corrected like this was new for her, and so was this tone of voice -- the same one he'd used when she'd questioned him about her clothing rules, or tried to select something to wear for herself. She had started calling him "Sir" after only a week or two, because it felt natural and she loved the feel of it in her mouth. But he had never before demanded it. It made her wet and it made her want to comply.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she said. "I meant 'no thank you, Sir.'"

"You started using that language naturally," he said. "I appreciate it that about you. But proper language will be mandatory, and you should get used to that. In general, you need to get used to doing things because they're required, not because you enjoy them."

"Yes, Sir," she said. If her hands were free she would have been stroking herself. Although that probably wouldn't be allowed, she reminded herself.

"When did you eat breakfast?" he asked.

"Right after I got up, Sir, around 7:30," she said. "I had yogurt and a banana. I'm getting hungry."

"That wasn't the question," he said, "but that's good, because I'm going to take you out for brunch."

"Thank you, Sir," she said. She heard him leave the room, and remained on her knees, hearing her closets and drawers open. He returned. She felt a warm wet cloth wipe her face, her breasts, and between her legs. The coolness as the water evaporated made her shiver involuntarily. He uncuffed her wrists.

"Stand up," he said. She did so, and he started untying and loosening the laces of her corset. "You don't have the clothes to wear over a corset like this, and you haven't had enough experience with it to wear it out yet."

It had not occurred to her that she would ever be taken out restrained like this. It was a little frightening and more than a little exciting. So was the implication that she'd be kept like that for longer in the future.

As the laces loosened she was able to take her first deep breath in an hour or two, and when he unbuckled and removed it entirely, she felt like her body took a little extra time to re-expand. Then he removed her blindfold.

She blinked, then looked down at herself. As soft as the leather had been, the corset had left deep marks on her, below her breasts, and vertically where the stays had been pressuring her through the leather. There was another red line just above her mons, where the front of the corset had pressed into her every time she tried to bend over.

He lifted her chin and kissed her. "You look lovely." She saw that some clothes were laid out on the couch. "Get dressed," he said.

All that was on the couch was one of her dresses, a casual sleeveless denim that buttoned up the front, and a cardigan. She looked at him. He said nothing.

"There's no underwear," she said. Hadn't he just spent a fortune on underwear for her?

"That's correct," he said. "We're going to the diner around the corner and we'll get a booth. The sweater will give you enough cover on top."

She picked up the dress, which was already unbuttoned, and pulled it on. It wasn't scandalously short but it wasn't that long either. It fell to an inch or two above her knees when she stood, and quite a bit higher when she sat. She buttoned it up past her bare cunt and over her breasts. The sleeves were cut high, so she wasn't exposed from the sides. At her size, she could comfortably go without a bra, but she usually did so under more layers of clothing. The rough denim stimulated her nipples, making them clearly visible. She pulled on the cardigan and buttoned it, which did indeed conceal them, but she still felt naked.

She went to the door and got her casual canvas sneakers, then stopped when she saw the look on his face. "Sir, may I wear these to the diner?" she asked.

"Good girl," he said, nodding. Those two words went straight through her. She loved his praise. She wanted so much to be his good girl. She pulled on the sneakers and asked, "Should I wear a jacket?"

He turned to the closet and took out a belted coat she hadn't worn in a while, and held it out for her.

9

It was warm out, so she left the coat open, enjoying the tantalizing feel of the breeze on her shaven cunt as it found its way between the buttons of her dress and cooled the wetness there. She was conscious of how her breasts were moving, without the camouflage of a thick sweater or oversize sweatshirt.

The red line beneath her breasts, marking where the corset had been pressuring them, would be visible through the buttons if she leaned over too far. In not much more than half an hour she'd gone from being bound so tightly she couldn't breathe normally, to feeling more naked than she ever had in public.

In the diner, he held her coat as she took it off, and hung it on the booth's hook as she slid into her seat. Had he deliberately picked this side for her because the open side of her buttons would be facing the wall? She pulled her sweater a little tighter and crossed her legs, very conscious of the gaps between the buttons at her waist and the seat's vinyl on her bare legs. She'd have to move carefully or she'd be feeling the vinyl on her cunt as well.

He sat facing her and took her hands. "Being dressed is not just about what you wear," he said. "It's also about how you wear it and how you comport yourself. To begin with, uncross your legs."

She complied. One of his hands reached under the table and between her knees, pushing them open a few inches.

"When you are with me, if you are wearing a skirt or a dress, I expect you to keep your legs open," he said. "I don't want you exposed to anyone but me, and if you need to cover up to avoid that you should do so. But I want you accessible to me at all times, whether or not we're in a place that I can take advantage of it."

She nodded.

"You don't have to use language that would be inappropriate in public," he said.

"Thank you," she said. "I wasn't sure." Under her breath, she added, "Sir." He smiled.

The waitress appeared, and he put his foot between hers to remind her not to close her legs. He ordered eggs and asked her what she wanted, so she ordered waffles. The food came at diner speed, and she picked up her knife and fork as the waitress turned away.

"One moment," he said. She looked up and he leaned toward her. "Put your knife and fork down, and fold your hands in your lap," he said in a quiet voice.

She did so.

"Another rule you should start getting used to is that you don't begin eating without permission," he said. "Until I tell you, or nod to you, you don't pick up your utensils. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Sir," she said quietly. He leaned back and said, "Begin."

They ate for a while and then, when the couple in the next booth left, she asked, "will there be many rules, Sir?"

"Will you have a problem obeying rules?" he asked.

"No sir, she said. "I'm just worried about forgetting them."

"I don't expect you to be perfect," he said. "You'll forget and you'll be corrected or punished. But the rules aren't the point. They're meant to remind you of what you are, or rather, what you want to be. Eventually they'll become second nature."

"Punished?" she asked.

He looked at her with his eyebrows raised.

"I'm sorry. Punished how, Sir?"

"I'll decide that at the time, depending on what you've done wrong and where we are," he said. "Right now, because you've forgotten proper language several times today, I want you to unbutton the bottom two buttons of your dress."

She hesitated, and he kept his eyes on her. She looked around, then reached down quickly and obeyed. The dress was now open enough that he would be able to see her bare cunt if not for the table.

"You'll also learn to obey more quickly," he said. "When I tell you to do something, you do it, without hesitation. If you don't understand then you may ask, and if you're scared or worried you may use your safe word. But otherwise you do what you're told."

"Yes, Sir. I was just nervous," she said, looking around. There was still no one within earshot, and no one who could see how exposed she was under the table.

"I understand," he said. "But I had already checked. I am going to push you out of your comfort zone quite often. That kind of discomfort is another way you'll work for me, just as you did wearing the corset today."

"Work for you?" she said. "Sir?"

"You're a slut who likes to be treated roughly and told what to do when you're having sex, correct?" he said. She reddened and looked around again. "Look at me and answer the question."

"Yes, Sir," she said.

"When I ask you a question, answer in a complete sentence," he said.

"Yes, Sir," she said again. "I am a slut who likes to be treated roughly and told what to do."

"That is only part of being a slave," he said. "You'll be told what to do whether you like it or not. You'll be obedient whether or not you're feeling sexy or enjoying yourself. And you'll be a slut only when I allow you to be."

That took a little while to sink in.

"Are you starting to understand why this isn't going to be a quick process?" he said.

She nodded. It was overwhelming and for the first time she started to wonder if this was a good idea.

"I'm dropping a lot on you at once on purpose," he said. "I want you to think about these things, and ask questions as they occur to you. I want you to start thinking about what it means to obey, what it really means to be owned."

"I am thinking, Sir" she said.

"There's one more thing to remember, probably the most important," he said. "I will take care of you. That is my job, just as it's your job to obey. I will never put you in danger, I will never mistreat you, I will always ensure you are OK. I will take very, very good care of such precious property."

She smiled and felt her eyes getting wet. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. She had never had the kind of rough treatment she liked without the fear that it might go too far, or nagging doubts about whether the other person was truly in control.

A chill between her legs told her that it wasn't just her eyes getting wet. She leaned towards him and said, "Sir, I think I'm getting my dress wet. I think it's going to show."

He motioned for the check. "That's why I told you not to wear the jacket," he said. He paid, stood up, and held the long coat open for her. She slid across the booth seat, and turned to stand up, seeing his eyes go down to her crotch where she had completely exposed herself for a moment. That made her wetter. Shielded by the open coat, she turned and put her arms into it, then pulled it around her.

One thing she'd noticed about being shaved was that it felt different when she got wet. With underwear, it felt squishier and wetter. Now, without underwear, she was realizing that she not only felt the air on her nakedness, but also that there was nothing to prevent it from dripping down her legs.

The day had turned cloudier and colder, and the air between her legs made her shiver.

10

As she unlocked the door of her apartment, she said, "I'll have to make you a set of keys."

"Do that when you're ready," he said. "It's another thing you'll be surrendering."

She looked a question at him over her shoulder as he closed the door behind him. She pulled off her coat and went to hang it up. He was still standing by the door. After the coat was on the hanger, she took off the sweater. He pointed at his feet. "On your knees."

"I really need the bathroom," she said. She'd been unable to go at the restaurant because of how she'd been dressed. He stepped forward and took her by the hair, turning her around.