Signing Up for a Life of Slavery

My name is Angelica, Angie for short. I am a petite but well-built 27-year-old, with medium length brown hair. I'm mostly white in ancestry but with just a touch of African that gives my skin more of a faint bronze glow than you see on most white people, especially in winter. I like to work out and keep myself in shape, well-muscled but trim. My breasts aren't really large, but my overall muscle tone keeps them perky and inviting. But the important thing about me is that I really, really enjoy being bound, gagged, and fucked.

On the day I first want to tell you about, I was lined up to have all of the above, and more, happen to me. I was in a large well-lit room, standing naked except for a pair of high stilettos, my wrists in leather cuffs behind my back and my ankles cuffed into a sixty-centimetre spreader bar that kept them invitingly apart without making standing unbearably uncomfortable. A wide strip of white microfoam tape sealed my mouth, contrasting alluringly with my slightly golden skin. Most important, I had a large steel dildo mounted on a floor pole stuffed far into my pussy.

If the stilettos were not already forcing me forward on my toes, I might have been able to get off the pole by standing on tiptoes and rocking sideways. But since the shoes had already forced me onto my toes before the pole had been inserted and locked in place, I clearly wasn't going anywhere at all.

As I looked to my left and right, I could see a line of six other women, all shapes, sizes and skin colours, and all kitted out exactly the same as I was, staked out on either side of me. They all seemed to have a resigned, dispassionate expression on their faces, or as much of their faces as I could see behind the tape gags, as if they'd been through this dozens, maybe hundreds of times, and it was now just the inevitable background to life.

By contrast, I felt a strange mixture of apprehension and nervous dread mixed in with a strange excitement. There was a door set into the wall in front of us, and I knew that whoever came through that door, if he (or occasionally she) chose me, he could take me to a room and do absolutely anything he wanted to me. For the first time in my long career as an eager sub, I would have no say in my fate, no safe word, no limits except a few that my captor had imposed on his clients to protect his slaves from permanent damage.

This was my first taste of true slavery, which I had previously only played at in weekend bondage sessions before going back to my admin assistant job on Monday morning. "Be careful what you wish for, Angie," I told myself as I waited for the door to open. Although I didn't have much range of motion, I flexed my knees a little and straightened back up to make the steel dildo, now warm and wet with my own running juices, massage the inside of my pussy in anticipation of what would most likely be a royal fucking to come shortly.

"What the fuck is going on?" I hear you thinking. "Who is this weird woman and how did she end up in this weird predicament?" I'll have to go back quite a way and fill in a lot of back story to make this all make sense.

If you've read Theo's story, "Theo's BDSM Slave Service," you'll have some idea what to expect from this story from the other side of the master-slave divide. If you haven't, you'll still be able to follow this one, but be aware that it involves some occasionally nasty and brutal non-consensual sex, bondage and torture, and that not all the characters - perhaps Theo least of all - are very likeable. In fact, probably the best way to describe Theo is "miserable sociopathic asshole." Why, then, would anyone willingly put herself in his power - for life?

**

I don't know why, but I've always enjoyed being retrained. Even as a child, when my friends and I would play games like cops and robbers, international spies and such - cowboys and Indians was long over by then - and someone always ended up being tied up, I usually managed to manoeuvre things so it was me who was tied up. It wasn't all that kinky - we kept our clothes on - but even then, I got a strange kind of pre-pubescent rush from it, and when I eventually got "rescued" at the end of the game, I was always a little bit disappointed. When I got older and started fooling around with boys, I would sometimes suggest some light bondage, and while a few guys were kind of grossed out, many of them jumped at the chance. As I got older and the fooling around turned into full-blown sex, I found that I was also turning to heavier and heavier bondage. I started trying out mail-order bondage gear, from cuffs and gags to spreaders and nipple clamps. I also experimented with various kinds of sex - oral, anal, vaginal, with toys and without - and discovered that I enjoyed each and every kind, just as long as I was also in bondage at the time.

I also gradually discovered that I liked some pain with my pleasure. One night a guy spanked me, hard, on my bare bum. I was shocked, and started to struggle, but then I found that the more I struggled, the more he kept spanking me, and the more he kept spanking me, the hornier I got. By the time we got around to actual sex, I had one of the quickest and most intense orgasms of my life. From then on there was no looking back as I experimented with ever newer and more different ways to ask guys to hurt me.

I won't bore you with the parade of guys I tried out for size. I tried picking up doms at S&M bars, but a few of them genuinely scared me, going well beyond the limits I had discussed beforehand, and occasionally making me fear for my life. I went back to men I met at parties, from friends of friends, and such, and eventually found one who was just about perfect: Jonathan.

Jonathan and I met at a party and went home together for what I thought would be a one-night stand. It turned out that he loved being a dom just as much as I loved being a sub. He had his own collection of equipment, some of it different from mine, and by much later in the evening I found myself chained to the wall in his basement, naked and spreadeagled, my panties shoved in my mouth and taped in place, and a butt plug vibrating in my ass. I was in heaven as he teased my nipples, played with my clit and labia, and eventually shoved his more than excellent cock into my wet, waiting pussy. As I screamed my orgasm behind the gag, I decided that tonight would turn into a weekend, and that we would keep meeting up for more. This guy was a keeper.

**

Be patient, I'll get back to Theo's slave showroom eventually. But to give you the full story, let me fast-forward a bit to a particular night when I finally managed to articulate something that had been nagging at me for a while.

We had both been working pretty hard all week, and hadn't seen each other except for a few Facetime sessions that featured some dirty talk and flashed body parts. By Friday night I was more than ready to bust loose, and I could tell that he was, too. We had a pleasant dinner together at a local diner, nothing too fancy so that we could get on to the evening activities that we were both looking forward to. We left separately, as we had arranged. He went off somewhere to do something or other, and I went straight to his place to prepare.

He had a smallish but very nice two-bedroom townhouse close to downtown Windsor Ontario. It was in an older building from the time when people built with brick, not flimsy drywall. We knew that sounds didn't carry through the walls, so that we could cut loose as loudly as we wanted without worrying about the neighbours. He had a dungeon in the basement - that was where he chained me up the first night I told you about - but often we just spent our time in the bedroom. He had a little ornamental weathercock on the bannister where one set of stairs went up and the other down, and he would leave it turned to point to whichever venue he had chosen for the evening. It felt titillating to have him control me even in trivial ways like which room we would use. Tonight it was pointed to the staircase leading up to the bedroom, so up I went.

I stopped at the bathroom and had a good pee and a small drink of water. I knew that I wouldn't have a chance to do either for a little while. When I was finished on the toilet, I gave my whole pubic area a good scrub with a washcloth. If he decided to bury his face in it, I didn't want it to smell or taste like pee. Then I turned the corner to the bedroom.

Jonathan likes to vary our sessions. Sometimes he wants to arrive and find me totally naked. Sometimes he likes me partly or fully clothed, so that he can have the pleasure of pulling or ripping them off (I've learned not to wear anything but my cheapest outfits just in case). Sometimes he leaves out his own selection of sexy lingerie for me. There is a Barbie doll that sits on the pillow - one of the anatomically correct ones that used to be popular - and I am to wear what she's wearing. Today the Barbie was totally naked, sitting smugly on the pillow with her legs spread wide to show off her little plastic pussy.

Sometimes Jonathan likes to tie me up himself; other times he likes me to do self-bondage so I'm all trussed up and ready for him when he walks in. If he feels like self-bondage, he leaves the equipment he has chosen for me on the bed. Today there was a spreader bar with wrist and ankle cuffs, a black ball gag, a roll of wide black bondage tape, a bottle of lube, and a large black butt plug.

"This is going to be fun," I said as I surveyed the spread. He had picked some of my favourite toys. I love being fucked while plugged in two out of three holes, and a spreader bar makes me feel much more exposed and helpless than simply having my ankles tied together.

I shucked off my clothes and hung them over the back of a chair. Then I picked up the butt plug, lubed it, squatted, and put a generous dollop of lube on my asshole and worked it inside. I placed the tip of the butt plug against my asshole and started to press gently but firmly, turning it back and forth to help work it in. At first, my asshole automatically tightened against the intruder, but then I could feel it relax and I was able to work in more and more of the plug. Each time it started to hurt a bit, I stopped, pulled it out a centimetre or so, and when the pain subsided, worked it in a bit more. I felt the familiar burning pain as I got it in to its widest point, unpleasant but pleasurable at the same time, until the plug slipped right in and my sphincter clamped down on its narrower shaft, just before the flange that kept it from getting sucked right up. I took a couple of turns around the bedroom to savour the sensation of the plug working around in my ass as I walked. Perfect! Then I went on to part two.

I sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the ball gag. It was pretty big as well, but I could work it into my mouth so that it was mostly sitting behind my teeth and my lips could partly close over it. It had a Velcro fastener to make it easy to do up behind my head, and I pulled it until it was good and snug but not too tight - I suspected I would be wearing it for a while. It filled my mouth and held down my tongue so that I could barely get out some slurred words.

I like the sensation of a ball gall, and they make a pretty sight, but I found the fact that you can still sort of talk around them to be a bit disappointing. That was where the tape came in. It was the kind that mostly sticks only to itself so I could put it over the ball gag and wind it around my head several times without getting it stuck forever in my hair. I snipped it off the roll using the pair of scissors that always sits on the side table and smoothed it over my mouth. I knew that if I looked in the mirror I would see the ball gag outlined in the soft tape, a look that always drives Jonathan crazy. I tried experimentally to say a few words but could only get some grunts out my nose. Also perfect!

Finally, the spreader. I buckled myself into the ankle cuffs, which held my feet a little under a metre apart. Then I turned over on my face, doubled up so I could reach it with my hands, and buckled my left wrist. The remaining wrist would have been impossible, except that Jonathan had come up with an ingenious fix. Instead of a flexible strap, the last restraint was a wide solid cuff, padded so as not to cut into my skin. It sat open in two pieces, and when I put my wrist in place, the spring-loaded pieces came together with a snap and locked. Since it had been custom built for me, it fit my wrist perfectly, snug but allowing lots of circulation.

Now I was ready for whatever Jonathan chose to do to me, my asshole and mouth plugged, and my ass in the air to reveal my pussy, which was already slick and starting to drip with anticipation.

I could see the bedside clock from where I lay. I waited ten minutes, twenty, thirty, my anticipation growing by the minute. By forty minutes my anticipation was beginning to be mixed with some shreds of worry. He was never this long. What if he had gotten held up somehow and wasn't coming for hours? What if he had had a heart attack or an accident, and no-one was coming for me ever? The worry mixed with the anticipation started to drive me insanely horny, especially as I couldn't reach my pussy with my hands to relieve the tension.

To distract myself, I began wondering about what Jonathan would do to me. Along with tying me up and fucking me senseless in various ingenious ways, he usually added some source of pain into the mix to juice me up even further. What would it be this time? Sometimes in was just a good bare-hand spanking, or nipple twists, or both. Sometimes he worked me over with a flogger. A few times, he caned me viciously on the back and ass, hard enough to bring out some genuine wild screams of pain behind whatever he had shoved in or over my mouth, hard enough to leave welts that lasted for weeks but never left permanent scars - Jonathan was an expert at controlling a cane, even when he made it look like he was totally out of control. Fortunately, I had talked my boss into an adjustable sit-stand desk, ostensibly for my back but actually because I occasionally turned up for work on Monday unable to sit for mor than a few minutes at a time. Occasionally, just to keep me guessing, he did nothing painful at all. The uncertainty was yet another layer to my rising libido.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, I heard a key click in the lock and the outer door opening. "Not a moment too soon," I thought, my jaw and my legs already cramped from their confinement.

Jonathan came into my line of sight, his face wearing a wide grin. "Well, what have we here. Angie trussed up like a Christmas turkey. And stuffed." He ran his hands slowly and approvingly down my body, pausing to reach around for a double handful of breast. My nipples had been hard ever since I heard the key in the lock, but now they were like little rocks. He ran his fingers around them slowly, searching for just the right touch to drive my desire to new heights. I don't usually cum from nipple stimulation alone, but the tension had been building for so long that I felt an orgasm beginning to build in my breasts, spreading quickly down my body to my clit. My teeth clamped down on the ball gag and my sphincter clamped down hard on the butt plug as my first orgasm of the night burst Into a muffled scream, partly but not entirely stifled by the ball gag and the tape that covered it.

Running a finger over my dripping cunt, he said, "I see your pussy has been waiting for me," as the last shudders ebbed from my body. "Let's not make it wait any longer, shall we?" He stood by the head of the bed so that I could watch as he undressed, achingly slowly. When he finally got to his underwear and pulled them off, the magnificent cock I had been waiting for all night was forced down as the elastic waistband slide over it, and then it popped up to attention. It had obviously been waiting for me too. I could see a tiny drop of precum forming on the tip.

Stroking his cock gently with one hand, he positioned himself behind me and began to run his tongue slowly down my body. He started at the nape of my neck and moved down my back, his lips and tongue working together to send little electric shocks through my skin. When he came to the top of my ass-crack, he started working his tongue up and down inside the crevice, intensifying the fire that had been burning in my pussy all evening. When he came to the end of the butt plug, he gripped in his teeth and pulled it out just a centimetre or two so that my sphincter was forced more open by the wide part of the plug. He never pulled it far enough for it to slip past that widening and right out. Instead he pulled back a little and then let my sphincter suck it back in, basically fucking me in the ass with the plug. I felt another orgasm building, but he always stopped just before it burst over the dam. He waited a few seconds for it to start settling down, and then resumed pulling the plug in and out.

When he knew he had me built up to the point of madness, he let the plug settle back into position and went to work of my pussy. He tongued my clit and then explored my vagina as far as his tongue would reach. He sucked my pussy lips one at a time, stretching them out until they almost hurt and then releasing them. My orgasm quickly built again, and this time, he let it finish with another shuddering, barely stifled scream.

"I might get back to that hole," he said with what I assumed was a smile, "but for now let's let it relax a little and move on. How about this one?" He reached down, grasped the end of the plug, and this time pulled it all the way out, leaving me with a gaping, empty asshole.

He admired the view for a minute, gently massaging my breasts, pussy and asshole. Then he moved around behind me and started to press the end of his cock against my furthest-back hole.

I started to get a strange premonition. I hadn't seen him use the lube from the nightstand, and I hadn't felt him lube me up. That was unusual. He was always generous with lube, especially when ass-fucking me. I still had some gape from the plug, and a bit of residual lube from the same source, but I clenched down on the ball in my mouth nonetheless, suddenly apprehensive about his next move.

He made me wait for it. He worked just the tip of his cock gently past my sphincter and left it there, not moving in or out and gently stroking the side of my face from behind. Then, without warning, he shoved his entire length all the way up inside me until I felt his balls bounce against my pussy.

That ended the suspense about how he would choose to hurt me this time. My entire rectum erupted in a gigantic, painful spasm, my sphincter turning into a ring of red-hot fire and all my innards contracting sharply. I let out the shriek of the damned from behind the gag, and instinctively tried to slam my legs together. That was obviously pointless with eighty centimetres or so of spreader between my ankles.

Jesus, Mary and all the saints! This was the most painful thing he had ever done to me, worse even than his most vicious caning. Jonathan didn't move his cock any more, just left it shoved all the way up and waited while I tried to get out in front of the searing pain in my asshole. Gradually the spasm subsided, and after three or four minutes I was able to breathe more or less normally again instead of taking huge, shaking pant-breaths.

Once he saw that I was settled down, Jonathan went to work with long, slow strokes, pulling almost all the way out and then back in balls-deep. As it always does, the residual pain started to shift over to pleasure, starting gently deep in my abdomen where his cock-head was massaging my G-spot from the rectal side. The feel of his shaft sliding rhythmically over my sphincter and up my rectum became more and more intoxicating, and the pain pants gradually turned to pleasure pants as the orgasm spread through my entire pelvic region. He thrust just fast enough to keep me building, not rushing but gradually picking up the pace as he sensed me building toward my third climax to the evening. Soon my attempts to hold back to savour the buildup were defeated and the orgasm burst through and broke over me. I stiffened, my sphincter clamped down hard on his cock, and I threw my head back in another stifled cry of ecstasy.