Rachel's Retrospect

The torture Master slowly and pleasurably performed on me was exquisitely painful. He would place a large vibrator inside of me, and pump it in and out of me until I bled. While this was going on, Master would use a metal-studded whip and hit my stomach and breasts until large red welts rose up. Each time I screamed in pain through the muffling gag, he would hoist the chain attached to my collar an inch higher. I soon learned to fight the urge to scream – like with Mistress – and endure the painful training silently.

I did not realize it at the time, but all of this was meant to break my will, my spirit, my self-confidence, and my sense of freedom. In time I came to willfully endure the abuse, the torture, and came to eventually look upon my captors as my true Owners. Likewise, I truly thought of myself as their possession, their slave. They even gave me a new name – “jane”.

Time passed in my slavery without the ability to judge it. Some periods of time passed when I did not know if it was night or day. I lived by the routine Master and Mistress established. I was fed twice a day, bathed twice a day, and endured long training sessions that increased in their intensity. I was allowed to sleep in varying degrees of length. At times the training sessions went on for days during which I was not allowed to sleep; at other times I was allowed to sleep for short periods of time – usually tied to the bed on my back. Mistress told me I was doing very well, which pleased me in some strange way at the time I did not understand but took to heart. Despite myself, I was beginning to feel an unusual ‘affection’ for Mistress and Master. I was now relying on them for my food and my shelter, was told what to do, what to wear, how to speak, how to stand, how to act. Rachel was slowly disappearing and in her place jane was emerging. And jane was a willing, obedient slave to her Owners.

My rewards for obedience were both freedom and pain. The freedom grew to allow me access to the upstairs of the house in which I was kept. Little by little Master and Mistress allowed me to spend time upstairs. I was permitted to cook for them, ankles shackled but my hands uncuffed – Mistress always a few feet away with her whip and holding the leash attached to my collar. Master and Mistress liked my cooking, and I was rewarded with two hours of flogging tied to the Frame. And with each strike of the whip against my bare back, buttocks and breasts, I said “Thank you, Master” and meant it.

In all this time, not once did Master ever fuck me. He had used dildos, vibrators and other penetrating devices on me, but had yet to fuck me himself. I had begun to think a lot about it, and soon began hoping he would. I had fallen in love with him in the only way a true slave can love their Master, and I sincerely wanted him to Use me that way. I wanted him to fuck me to orgasm. I wanted to please him in that way so much, but I could not say a word about it. I just had to try to patiently wait for him to do it. I knew in my heart the time would come.

Mistress, on the other hand, had frequently used me to orgasm; I had come to love pleasing her sexually. She would often use ropes to tie me to a chair in a very sophisticated procedure. Using a simple wooden chair, she would tie my ankles to each front leg of the chair; bring the rope around each thigh and tie it to the back legs of the chair to pull my legs apart. With another rope, she would bind my upper arms to the back of the chair, and tie my wrists up to the middle of the back of the chair. Two shorter ropes would be bound tightly around each of my breasts to painfully enlarge and engorge them; at which time she would clip several wooden clothespins to my nipples and the aureoles. Mistress also would clip clothespins to the lipfolds of my vagina. I did not cry from the pain but I would gasp in heavy breathing to try to endure the exquisite torture.

Once she had done this to me, she would stand in front of me with legs spread apart, pull my head forward, and order me to lick her clitoris until she orgasmed. Her pussy was shaved clean, so I would start by gently licking the bare skin above her vagina, and slowly move down in between the folds. My tongue would find her clitoris and I would feel her body jolt and quiver as I quickened my licking. Mistress usually came fast and hard, and would yank my hair when she did. Mistress would then push me back in the chair, my face covered in her warm, aromatic sticky cum, and would make me sit there unable to clean it off.

“You like the feel and smell of my cum, don’t you, girl?” Mistress said.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I responded quietly, my head bowed before her; “I love your cum on my face.”

“Good girl, jane,” she said; “You will sit there for 20 minutes and think about how much you love to obey and please your Mistress.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I instantly responded.

And I was left for 20 minutes, bound tightly and painfully in the chair with Mistress’ cum on my face, thinking about all of the pleasurably painful things she could do to me to make me please her.

Master had now started using me in more elaborate ways. In the dungeon, as I now thought of it, I had watched from my cell as he had constructed a suspension device. Attached securely to the ceiling were four long, strong chains, about six feet apart each way. Another shorter chain was attached in the middle of these. Master attached a number of leather straps to the ceiling in a somewhat random fashion, with clip hooks at the dangling end of them. On the sidewall near the chains, he nailed a large metal hook, and tied a five-foot long leather strap to it. Underneath all of this, Master placed a small stool that stood about three feet high.

Mistress sat in her favourite chair nearby smoking cigarettes as Master cuffed and shackled me and brought me out of my cell. He ordered me to sit on the stool underneath the hanging chains. Master uncuffed my hands and attached each of my leather wrist cuffs to two of the outer chains. He then unshackled my ankles and attached my ankle cuffs to the other two outer chains. At that point only my buttocks were resting on the stool, my arms and legs were spread out and suspended by the chains.

I did not resist as he placed the ballgag in my mouth and secured it. I knew what was going to happen to me and I also knew there was nothing I could do but endure it.

He took the leather strap tied to the wall and secured it to my collar. Now my head was pulled back and painfully hanging four feet over the floor. I could not fully see in the mirrored ceiling above me, but I could feel everything being done to my body.

Master then took each of the leather straps he’d randomly secured to the ceiling beams, and attached the clips on the ends of them to my nipples and vaginal lips. I could feel the exquisitely painful pull on my nipples, and whimpered with gasping breaths into the ballgag as quietly as I could manage without letting go screams of pain.

Without warning, Master removed the stool from beneath me, and I sagged slightly as my whole body was suspended solely from the chains and leather straps. My whole body was in agony, and I could not help but release an intense moan of pain.

Master came around to where my head was hanging, and I watched him undress in front of me. Even with my view upside-down, I could not help but stare at his erect and engorged penis. I could suddenly feel myself getting wet at the sight of it, my vaginal muscles beginning to constrict and relax with a tingling sensation of anticipation.

Master then took another wider leather strap and blindfolded me with it. Sensory deprived and painfully suspended three feet from the floor, all I could do was listen to Master and Mistress, and wait for release.

I could feel Master’s presence near my open legs. In a moment, I felt his hard, wet member forcing its way into me, and I moaned openly and constantly.

As he thrust harder in and out of me, striking my stomach and breasts with a bamboo cane at each thrust, my body swayed on the chains, the straps pulling my nipples feeling as if they would rip me apart. I felt so much pain I thought I would faint or die, and hoped for either to escape the torture. However, I also felt myself rising to orgasm as Master fucked me harder and harder. The cock ring around his penis was pushing against my clitoris with painful teasing, and I could feel myself getting wetter.

Master was starting to moan, and I knew he was near orgasm. I was beginning to love the feeling of it all, even the pain. Master was finally Using me for his intimate pleasure, and I desperately wanted to please him. I was also rising toward orgasm, and it was blinding me with ecstasy.

I felt Master release inside me with a choking grunt, and slowly pull himself out of me. I was so close to orgasm at that moment my whole body was quivering and jolting. I had to bite into the ballgag to fight back the pain of the physical deprivation of not reaching orgasm. That perhaps was the worst torture of the whole session.

I was still gasping and moaning when I could smell the perfume of Mistress drifting toward me. The clicks of her high-heeled boots against the cement floor were intoxicating.

“Girl,” she said in her smoky, harsh voice, “did you like what Master did to you?”

A muffled “Uh huh” was all I could manage through the ballgag.

“Do you want him to do it again?” she asked.

I replied instantly in the same strangled way.

“Good girl, jane,” Mistress then responded; “You will now be rewarded.”

I then felt the sharp edge of her crop cut into the skin of my stomach. My whole body arched up in an uncontrollable reaction, a gasping moan escaping my parted, gagged mouth. She whipped me four more times across the stomach, each time with more intensity. I could feel the blood trickling across my skin and rolling around my waist. Mistress then took what felt to be a wooden clothespin, and clipped it onto my clitoris. I could not contain the scream of pain.

“You know not to scream, slave!” she exclaimed in a commanding, fierce voice, and moved to bring the whip down upon the sides of my strained, pulled breasts.

I could feel the tears rolling down the sides of my face. I didn’t know whether I could endure much more without passing out. I knew if I struggled it would only pull on the chains and straps and be even more painful. But just hanging there suspended was more pain than anyone could survive.

Mistress whipped me two more times against each breast, then moved away. I could not stop the moans and gasps produced by the unbelievable pain I felt coursing through my entire body. But I knew I needed to try to control myself and stop my voice from making any noise, or I would be whipped again.

“You did good, girl,” I suddenly heard Master say somewhere near me. “I will now reward you for behavior and obedience.”

I felt his hard member thrust inside me again, and instantly felt that growing ecstasy of impending orgasm. Now my moans were sounds of pleasure, and those I knew in this case were allowed. The feeling of Master inside me, using me, was all I lived for now. He was truly my Master, the Owner of my body to Use as he saw fit.

Master fucked me five times that session, and during the last one finally let me cum. It was exquisite, and when he removed the ballgag from my mouth I thanked him. He just smiled at me and caressed my hair. I will never forget it.

Mistress now also was becoming more intense in her Use of me. By now I was in love with her and loved whatever she did to me. In my previous life I had never felt any tendencies toward lesbianism; I liked men and considered women as only friends. But Mistress was a beautiful, strong, sensual woman, and I could not help but develop strong feelings for her. She was my Mistress and Owner of my body; she took care of me, took pleasure from me, and gave me pleasure. As I grew into accepting my life as a sex slave, I also grew to accept and enjoy the painful sexual pleasures my Owners took from me. And Mistress was exceptional at inventing new ways of sexually torturing me.

I had just been bathed – a ritual that never changed and still remains the same to this day – and Mistress ordered me to lie on the bed in the main chamber of the dungeon. By now the old brass bed to which I had first been tied upon abduction had been replaced by a large wooden four-poster bed. Mistress had placed a red velvet bedspread on it, red being her favourite colour. I silently laid down on the bed and awaited her orders.

Mistress lit the large collection of scented candles on the table, and then sat down on the bed next to me.

“Put your arms up, jane,” she ordered, to which I complied by lifting my arms up over my head and placing them both near the head posts where the bondage handcuffs had been bolted.

Mistress attached the cuffs to my wrist cuffs and secured them tightly. She then got up and moved to the foot of the bed, where I offered her each of my ankles for her to secure them to the end posts. Once again I laid there nude and open for her, gazing up at my reflection in the mirror. I now loved what I saw – a young, pretty sex slave, her skin scarred by the lashes of her Owner’s pleasure and punishment – bound tightly to a bed, ready and willing to be used by her Mistress for her Mistress’s dark desires.

Mistress sat by my side on the bed and took a candle from the table. I watched as she held it six inches over my right breast, then slightly tilted it. A trickle of hot red wax dripped down upon my erect nipple, and I gasped at the white-hot pain. My body arched and pulled against my bindings.

As the wax quickly dried and formed a tight covering over my nipple, Mistress moved the candle over my left breast and dripped more wax upon it. I tried not to cry out in pain, and bit my lip to stop the scream.

“Good girl,” Mistress said approvingly, and moved the candle down the length of my stomach, a trail of trickling wax hitting my bare skin as she did. My body arched and jolted with each painful hot drip of wax, but I managed to stay silent.

Mistress then lowered the candle just an inch or two above my now-shaved crotch, and I watched in the mirror above with barely contained anticipation as she dripped the hot red wax onto my vagina. The pain was so intense that a short cry escaped my lips. I could not help but struggle at my bondage, my eyes squeezing shut with exquisite pain.

“Shut up, girl” she commanded as she let more wax drip onto my vagina. She took one hand and spread open the lips of my vagina, then dripped the hot wax directly onto my clitoris. I uncontrollably arched and struggled, trying desperately not to scream; I just gasped audibly in laboured breathing that only served to make the pain of the drying wax on my nipples intensify.

Mistress stopped for a moment and spoke.

“Do you want me to gag you, slave?”

“No, Mistress,” I managed to gasp.

“Then remain silent,” she ordered, the previous softness in her voice disappearing.

I tried to relax and calm down, and she allowed me a few minutes to do so. She reached for a cigarette and lit it, smoking it quietly as she sat next to me, the burning candle still in her hand.

Once my breathing had become calm and my body ceased to uncontrollably struggle, Mistress spoke quietly to me.

“Do you like being our slave?” she asked, gazing at me with her dark green eyes.

I nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Tell me who you are,” she quietly commanded.

“I am jane, your sex slave.”

Mistress was thoughtful for a moment, staring into the candle’s flickering flame. Then she spoke.

“Yes, you are, jane. And it’s time to make it official…”

My piercing ceremony was a dramatic event. I was not told what was going to happen to me until the day it had been arranged. Master had been Using me on the Horse and had left me chained there alone for several hours until Mistress came to retrieve me.

The “Horse” was a wooden sawhorse, over which was suspended a metal rod chained to the ceiling. Master cuffed my wrists over my head to the bar, my whole body weight resting on my vagina spread over the top of the rough wooden top plank of the horse. My feet dangled about a foot from the floor, my ankle cuffs attached to another bar underneath to weight me down. The pain was amazing. Master used weighted nipple clamps on me to further the sensation of increased gravity. He also used a wooden bar gag in my mouth that he chained around my head. As I bit into it to muffle my moans of pain, I could feel the indents of teethmarks from what I guessed where previous slaves who had endured Master’s torture.

Mistress came for me at a point I thought I might pass out. She released me and took me to the shower where she washed and oiled me in patchouli. The sensation of her hands slipping over every inch of my body with the slick scented oil almost caused me to orgasm. I contained it as best I could, and waited for her to finish.

She dressed me in only a black satin robe that fell just below my knees. As I stood in front of the dresser, I watched in the mirror as she brushed my long blond hair.

“You are a pretty slave, jane. Master and me are going to perform a ceremony to make you a better slave. Do you understand?”

I shook my head.

Mistress grinned.

“You will soon, jane.”

Mistress cuffed my hands in front of me, shackled my feet loosely enough so I could walk, and took me upstairs. I kept my head lowered and remained silent, still not aware of what was about to happen.

The diningroom was lit brightly lit, the large oak table covered with red satin cloth. The chairs had all been removed from the room. Glancing for a moment at the sideboard cabinet, I saw laying on top of it a variety of metal tools - but I did not know what they were or how they were used. I also instantly was aware of the presence of other people besides Master and Mistress. There were two men and two women. It was obvious by their attire that they were in The Life. One of the men held an expensive-looking digital camera in his hand. At that point I could feel my heart begin to race with fear.

Mistress stood behind me and gently pulled on my hair to make me raise my head and look up at the room. I gazed silently and tried to look fearless, strong and confident.

“Sirs, Madams,” my Mistress spoke, “this is jane, our slave.”

With that introduction, Mistress untied the belt of my robe and slipped it from my shoulders. I now stood partially nude in front of everyone, and suddenly felt very helpless. I knew they were staring at me, exploring my body with their eyes, seeing the scars and welts.

Mistress then unlocked the cuffs on my hands and allowed me to stand free, the sleeves of the robe now falling free and revealing my entire body. I lowered my head in the customary submissive way.

Master then approached me and led me over to the table.

“Get on the table, jane,” he quietly commanded. I obeyed, managing to sit up on the table with Master’s assistance.

“Lay down,” he then ordered, and I moved around to lay on my back on the hard table. I closed my eyes and pressed the palms of my hands against the slightly rough material of the flannel sheet under me. I had no idea what was about to occur, but I could feel all eyes on me. I tried to breathe as calmly as possible, but I could feel my heart beating fiercely against my chest.

Suddenly, unfamiliar male hands took hold of my arms and legs, and pulled me spread-eagle on the table. I tried to fight my instinctive desire to struggle as the other men removed my ankle and wrist cuffs, and wrapped rope around my ankles and wrists. I opened my eyes for a moment to see Master and Mistress standing next to the table, watching. The other two women in the room stood nearby, also watching silently.