Slave Ella Ch. 04 - Documentary Pt. 01

"It's about her I'm calling, actually. I have to go to Dubai next week on business, meet some rich Arabs looking to build a property portfolio in the UK. I was wondering if you could take care of her while I'm gone?"

"It would be my pleasure," I said, and meant it quite literally.

"Great," he answered. "I need to leave early Monday morning, so can I drop her off Sunday evening?"

"Sure, no problem, I'll be here."

"About six?"

"Fine."

"Great, thanks, I appreciate it. Of course you can use her while I'm gone."

"I was rather hoping you'd say that."

"This morning I fitted her with a chastity belt, so you won't be able to fuck her ass or pussy, but you can use her mouth as often as you like. And of course you can whip her whenever you want."

"I'll make sure of it."

"Great, see you Sunday."

The next few days passed in the usual routine. If it was a 'no food' day for Ella I gave her a breakfast of cum, shot deep into her throat, and another helping in the evening, with whatever perversions I could imagine in between. On the Wednesday I supervised as she shaved her pussy bare, then licked her smooth snatch - the 'tongue test' - until she was very worked up, before putting her back in her cage frustrated once more. On Thursday evening I let a local retired schoolmaster come and use her, his usual £100 fee for an hour alone with her. I didn't need the money but it pleased me to take money for her degradation - he was a lonely old boy and this was the only sex he got; it was a social service, really. He knew I was recording the session - ostensibly to ensure my house rules were observed, but really so I could upload it to the pay-per-view website I ran where any video involving Ella was a guaranteed seller - and as I watched on the screen in the office I stroked my hard cock as he did what he always did, invariably: he dressed her in skimpy lacy white panties, white ankle socks, white high heels, hooded her, trussed her with her ankles tied to her wrists so she was completely immobile, then lashed her buttocks until they were red, pulled her panties aside and fucked her in the ass. My only stipulation was that he couldn't come inside her, so at the last moment he pulled out and shot his come up her back. I left her like that as I saw him out, then came back and fucked her in the ass myself, except that I could and did come inside her, leaving her trussed as I then made her suck me clean through the hood.

On the Saturday morning I dressed her for a trip into town to the local farmers' market, to buy a few luxuries. Luxuries for me, obviously, not for her - most of her diet consisted of porridge, fresh fruit and vegetables, and vitamin tablets. I chose black seamed stockings and suspenders, black high heels, a mid-thigh leather skirt which hinted at her stocking-tops as she walked, and a white blouse. She wore no bra or panties; if she leaned forward, from behind her pussy was clearly visible, and her breasts and nipples could easily be seen through her sheer top. I put a small princess plus into her ass, its jewelled end occasionally visible as she moved. I told her to make herself up and she did: the final result was stunning with a hint of blusher on her cheeks, carnal red lipstick, and eyeliner and mascara which accentuated her piercing green eyes. I thought again how lucky I was to have such a beautiful woman as my property.

In the past I've often left Ella's daywear slave collar on when out in public; a strip of black leather with a metal ring on the front, it is certainly no more shocking than what you see worn on the high street of any large town or city these days. But today I took it off and replaced it with a thin circular metal hoop collar. To anyone who didn't know it looked like a fashionable necklace, but we knew.

We drove into Winterborne, parked in the Waitrose car park, and I took her hand as we strolled to the Methodist church where the farmers' market took place every other Saturday. I bought some organic free-range eggs from a local smallholder, venison fillets from the game dealer, some roqeufort cheese and green olives from the delicatessen, and a pain de campagne from the bakery stall.

We stopped for a coffee - cappuccino for me, white filter coffee for Ella, and sat outside at a table on the pavement, watching the world go by as we sipped our drinks.

"Open your legs slightly," I told her, and of course she obeyed. She was facing into the street, and anyone walking by could look straight up her skirt at her bare cunt. I saw several men steal repeated glances as they walked by, unable to quite believe what they were seeing.

"Dan!" I heard a familiar voice say, and turned to see Mike and Amanda walking towards us. He was dressed casually in jeans, a light blue shirt and loafers, but Amanda was dressed to thrill, as always, in leather hotpants, suede ankle boots and a denim tied shirt, knotted under her breasts and exposing her navel. Her smooth shaved legs seem to go on forever, even though she wasn't more than five feet eight. She wore the same slave choker she'd been wearing a few evenings before.

I stood and shook Mike's hand.

"We're just having a coffee. Why don't you join us?"

Mike went to buy drinks while Amanda pulled up two chairs and sat down.

"Have a good time the other night?" I asked her.

"The best," she said. "I loved having you and Master inside me at the same time. And the spanking was awesome." She turned to Ella; "And how is Ella today? Being a good girl?"

"Yes Miss," Ella answered. Her form of address depended on who she was talking to. I was always 'Master', other doms were 'Sir' unless instructed otherwise, and all other men were 'Mister'. Dominatrixes were 'Mistress', fellow slaves "Miss', and other women 'Madam'.

"What brings you to town?" I asked.

"I'll let Master tell you about that," she replied coyly.

We made small talk about the weather and other typical British subjects. After a few minutes Mike returned with an espresso for him and a herbal tea for Amanda.

"So what brings you to Winterborne?" I asked Mike; "Amanda was very mysterious when I asked her."

"I'm running a bukake session for Amanda this evening, in a room above the King's Head, and we just came to finalise arrangements with the landlord."

"Cool!" I said. "How many men?"

"We've sold twenty tickets so far, £30 a ticket. Should be a good crowd."

"And how much to hire the room?"

"That's why we're here. I told the landlord if he let us have the room for nothing he could use Amanda for an hour. I'm going to drop her off when we've finished this, and I've got a massage booked while she pays for the room. Why don't you come along tonight, if you're free?"

"I'd love to. I'll bring Ella, maybe she can lend a hand?"

He laughed at the joke.

"Well we might need a fluffer, to keep them occupied and hard until they get to Amanda. Even she can't suck off twenty guys at the same time. Eight o'clock sharp."

"We'll be there," I said.

I told him about the call from Sarah and the documentary, and he said he'd be interested in being interviewed too. I gave him Sarah's number and and he said he'd call her - they may as well do two interviews in the same area while they were here.

They finished their drinks and left for Mike to whore out his slave.

We spent a few hours browsing the shops, then strolled to the Kings Head to buy tickets for the evening's entertainment.

I knew the landlord, Dave, quite well, and he nodded acknowledgement as we walked into the dim public bar.

"Hey," he said, "Long time no see,"

"Hi Dave," I said. We made small talk for a while, then I said "I bumped into Mike - he said you were holding an event here this evening, upstairs."

"Ah, yes," He grinned lasciviously. He jerked his head back. "Amanda's still here - Mike's car broke down on the way back from his massage and he's waiting for the repair truck. Go say hello if you like." He lifted a flap of the bar and we walked through into a back room.

Amanda sat in a hard wooden chair, her ankles and shins tied to its front legs, her arms pointing straight down at her sides tied to its back legs. She wasn't wearing her hotpants any more, which lay discarded on the floor, and her shirt had been untied exposing her tits. She was gagged with a hankerchief, and her face and tits were caked with drying cum. She tried to say something, but couldn't get the words out: I suspected Dave had shoved her panties into her mouth before applying the gag. Her pussy lips were flared and her clit looked swollen and aroused.

"Hello Amanda," I said; "I'd ask if you want to go shopping, but I can see you're a little tied up."

Ella giggled at that.

"Did I tell you to speak?" I snapped. Immediately she lowered her eyes and the smile vanished from her face.

"No, master."

"If you have nothing better to do, make yourself useful. Lick that cum off her face and tits."

"Yes, master." she answered meekly, went to keel beside Amanda and started to lick and kiss her face and tits, lapping up a stranger's cum. She paid particular attention to Amanda's breasts, sucking and nibbling at her nipples quite unnecessarily, I thought, but I let her carry on anyway. After a minute or two Amanda's cheeks, chin, neck and tits were glistening with Ella's saliva and her chest was heaving with excitement.

"Good work. Now lick her pussy." Ella crouched before the chair, kept her ams behind her back - I hadn't told her to use her hands - and began to lap at Amanda's perfect quim, probing and stabbing Amanda's clit with her tongue..

"Nnng! Nnng! Nnng!" Amanda started saying through her filled mouth.

"I think that's enough," I said. Ella immediately stopped and sat back on her heels, awaiting further instruction.

"NNNG!" Amanda said through the gag. I went over and stroked her head.

"If you want to come, you'll have to take that up with your master," I said. "See you tonight." We left the room and went back to the bar.

"Two tickets for this evening, please Dave," I said.

"Are you bringing her?" he asked, running his eyes up and down Ella's body. It wasn't hard to tell what he was thinking.

"I am."

"Then the tickets are free. Any man who brings a woman doesn't have to pay."

"Great. So eight o'clock then?

"Eight o'clock."

"Thanks, Dave, see you then."

We walked back to the car, put the bags of shopping in the boot.

"Back seat." I said, and opened one of the rear doors for Ella to climb in. She moved across so she wasn't sitting behind the driver's seat. I got in and started the engine.

"Play with your pussy," I commanded.

"At once, master," she replied, and in the rear-view mirror I saw her ruck up her skirt, lick the fingers of her right hand and begin stroking and massaging her pussy lips and clit.

It was only a ten-minute drive back to the house. About halfway back Ella said

"May this slave play with her nipples as well?"

"It may," I said, deliberately using dehumanising language.

"Thank you master," she said. She unbuttoned her blouse, pushed each tit in turn up to her mouth and began running her tongue around its areola and then sucking and biting at the nipple. The other hand still worked in her lap.

"Four fingers," I instructed, and she inserted almost her whole hand into her pussy and began bucking up and down on it. In my trousers my cock was like iron.

"And stop," I said when the house came in sight. Reluctantly she removed her fingers from her sticky cunt, let her breast fall from her mouth. She sighed slightly.

I got out, opened the rear door. Stupidly I realised I had forgotten to bring a leash.

"Crawl and follow," I ordered, and Ella clambered from the car on her hands and knees and followed me into the house. The gravel of the drive must have been painful on her palms and through the stockings, but of course that wasn't my concern.

I walked into the lounge, Ella still following. I bent, lifted her bodily and threw her on her back onto the couch.

"Raise and spread your legs," I commanded, and she did as she was told. I unbuckled my trousers and without any preamble or foreplay I entered her sopping cunt. I thrust hard and deep, pushing her legs back against her breasts, leaning forward to kiss her hard on the mouth. She seemed shocked - I very rarely displayed any signs of affection towards her, and we very rarely had 'vanilla' sex, but she returned my kisses hungrily like the emotion-starved fucktoy she was. She wrapped her stocking-clad legs around my waist, urging me deeper into her. She began to pant.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Please may this slave come?"

"No," I replied cruelly, thrusting even harder as my climax approached. She gritted her teeth against the tide of pleasure engulfing her.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! I love you!" she cried, eyes closed, face screwed up with the effort to avoid coming. She certainly didn't want the cane and the sybian again, or whatever even worse punishment I could think up if she dared come again without permission.

"I know you do, you worthless slut," I answered, as I began to pump cum deep into her twat, grunting with pleasure.

When I had recovered my breath I withdrew, moved my body further up the couch so she could clean me with her mouth.

Then I told her to kneel behind the couch where I couldn't see her, switched on the television and tuned it to a sports channel showing rugby.

"You may finger your cunt to orgasm." I instructed Ella.

As I watched the game I heard her pleasuring herself, humiliated and out of sight, and when her rapid gasps told me she had come I ordered her to kneel before me and suck me back to hardness.

And so we spent the afternoon.

At 6.30 I told Ella to scrub her face and re-apply her makeup. I left her outfit as it was, the buttplug remained in place, and I dropped a few wooden clothes pegs into my pocket, just in case.

At 7.45 we entered the Kings Head. There were a few regulars at the bar to whom I nodded hello, but who weren't really looking at me but at Ella. A few couples sat at tables, some eating, some just in conversation. I wondered whether any of them would be joining us upstairs.

I walked up to the bar and the barmaid Jade came over, a cute short goth/industrial girl wearing a Ministry t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing her tattoos - on her right arm a celtic band running all the ay around her arm, her left a full-sleeve built around a flaming demon's head on her bicep. She wore a tight PVC skirt with a latex belt from which hung rings and a pair of handcuffs, fishnet stockings or tights and DM boots. Her nose and tongue were pierced and her eyes heavily accentuated with kohl and green mascara. She wore purple lipstick. She had large tits made even larger by the bra she wore which pushed them together and up. Over her left breast were tattood the words Do what thou wilt...

"Hi," she said, "What can I get you?"

I ordered a diet coke for me and a tap water for Ella. When she came back with the drinks I nodded down at the words on her chest:

"Shall be the whole of the law."

"Sorry?"

"Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law. Aleister Crowley."

She smiled widely. "Yes, that's right. Do you know, nobody else in this backwater town has ever got that quote before?"

"And do you?" I asked; "Do what thou wilt?"

She laughed, brushing the question aside.

"We're here for the event upstairs," I said

"Oh, OK," she answered, re-appraising us; "Stairs are out the back."

"I know the way," I said. I looked straight into her eyes; "Will you be joining us?"

"I can't, I have to work."

"That's a shame," I said. I took a card from my wallet, black with gold-embossed writing. "Drop me a line if you want to talk some more about Crowley and doing what thou wilt." The card said

Dan S---

Corrupter of youth

With my mobile number and email address. She looked at my job description and laughed;

"I might just do that," she said.

I finished my drink, told Jade I'd see her later, and Ella followed my upstairs. She made no comment about my attempt to pull the barmaid; it was absolutely none of her business. But I was already idly beginning to wonder what Jade might look like naked, writhing under the lash.

The bukake party was taking place in a function room often used for wedding receptions, wakes and the like. It could hold about 50 people comfortably, but there weren't that many here this evening, at least not yet. A few groups of men stood around, as well as several couples, the women dressed in variations of slut - stockings, transparent blouses, boots, high heels. They ranged in ages from mid twenties to late forties, and none of them were especially beautiful. A mattress had been placed in the centre of the room, and next to it a wooden post with a chain attached - on the free end of the chain was a clip for attaching to a collar or cuffs.

Over the next few minutes another couple and several more men drifted into the room, and I recognised some of them from the bar downstairs. On the dot of eight o'clock, Mike led Amanda into the room, and Dave shut the doors behind them. Anybody who was late would not be admitted, and would have to settle for having a drink downstairs.

Amanda was dressed as a schoolgirl again - the most common male fantasy, and the one guaranteed to get as many men as possible as hard as possible. She'd changed it up a bit though; this time she wore white stockings, suspenders and high heels, with a knee-length pleated navy-blue skirt, a white blouse, no bra, and a red-and-blue-striped school tie. She also wore a straw boater, although I didn't think she'd be keeping that for long. She wore a different collar to her usual choker; a wide one that went up at the front, pushing her chin up. All the better to suck cock, I supposed. The word SLUT was picked out in fake diamonds. At least I assumed they were fake. Her hands were cuffed behind her, and her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. As a last detail she wore a pair of round black-framed glasses, emphasising the impression of an innocent, bookish nerd schoolgirl. I wondered whether any of the men in the room had been or were her clients at the estate agent she worked at: if so she was sure to get their business again and recommendations - but not necessarily for her skills at selling!

Mike, dressed in the same jeans and shirt as earlier, walked her to the mattress, and told her to kneel. The room had gone entirely quiet. He unclipped the leash he had led her in by, and instead attached the chain running from the post to her collar. She had plenty of leeway for movement: the chain was more symbolic than practical, since she didn't want to go anywhere anyway. She was exactly where she wanted to be - on her knees, surrounded by cocks to suck. He uncuffed her hands and removed the cuffs. She looked around the room and I saw a flash of annoyance cross her face at the presence of other women: doubtless she had thought she would be the only one there, the centre - and target - of attention. She didn't like the thought that other women might drain the cocks she regarded as hers for the evening.

"Good evening, gentlemen and sluts," Mike said, "And thank you for coming. The rules for this evening are simple. This whore," he indicated Amanda, "Is here for your oral pleasure. She will use her hands and her mouth to make you come. You may come in her mouth, over her hair, her face, her body, her tits - in fact anywhere you like. You may not use her ass or pussy. And no pissing. This evening will be filmed, as I believe was explained to you when you bought your tickets. That is all - have fun!"

Mike took a digital video camera from a satchel and began panning the room with it, then back to focus on Amanda.

The room paused, nobody wanting to go first. Amanda hitched up her skirt to reveal she wasn't wearing any panties and began to stroke her already-wet pussy.