The Slavemaker

Her voice was subdued where she snuggled against me, happy even. "Yes, Master, anything. But you already know my schedule from Ash and can set whatever time frames you think best, as well."

Crazy, impulsive Deirdre. She was really giving over everything to me and I found it more interesting than anything that she only seemed to be softer and sweeter with everything she gave me. "Reckless little slave girl." She sighed with lust and something that seemed a lot like relief when I stroked her hair, while I wondered if I'd ever want anyone else with her in my possession.

As much as I'd have loved to keep showing off my new slave in the hallway where anyone could see, I needed her in private for the moment, damn it, because I was losing myself in her. I finally managed to get both of us in my office and locked the door.

And then I absolutely took a little selfish advantage and lost myself in her. Some of it was for me, but a lot of it was because Deirdre really looked like she could use it at the moment. "Let me teach you a little bit before I have to take care of the bar. For instance, when you make problems for Master, little slave girl, you fix them." I said it teasingly so that she grinned with happy mischief. "Stroke me," I said softly, undoing my black pants to free myself for her to please. "Get on your knees while you do it, Deirdre."

She obeyed and her eyes were still just as eager as they had been before. She looked up at me, thrusting her tits out, her hand soft on my cock, and I groaned. There was nothing like seeing Deirdre King on her knees. She fisted me and I fucked myself against her, getting close, so... close... I had to stop when I didn't want it to end too fast, had to tease her and I both with stroking her hair while she watched my cock as if worshiping it, as if waiting eagerly for what she knew I wanted. God, I had to remind myself that I couldn't make this last forever and get on with it, working myself in her hand again until my blood started to roar.

At the last minute, she tugged her T-shirt off and I realized why when I groaned with orgasm and she thrust her tits out farther. Because she didn't want to waste my cum by letting it fall on the floor. She moaned with pleasure when it hit her flesh, her wide eyes looking up at me with reverence.

Jesus fucking hell. "Good girl. Such a good girl you are, little Aurora. I have to watch the bar for a little while, now that you've effectively distracted me." I gave her another teasing smile and stroked her hair again, fixing my leather back while she watched and grinned back, biting her lip. I touched her nose. "While I'm busy, I want you to lay on the floor and massage all that cum into your tits. And every time you stroke your nipples, say, 'Thank you, Master.'"

Her eyes came alive with lust and she lay back on the floor obediently. "Yes, Master. Master?" I paused at the door, wondering how my little dove was going to taunt me this time. She was already stroking her chest, rubbing the cum there into her flesh like lotion and the sight made me feel this feral possession. "You look really good in leather."

I laughed, running my hand through my hair. "Always a need to please a slave," I answered.

She moaned behind me and I heard a soft, "Thank you, Master," when she stroked her tits.

And apparently I was now a Master with a will to start down the path to monogamy. I had to make myself focus on Sulfur's for the first time in my fucking life because I had a wildcat in my office and all I wanted to do was start training it. It was like I was an obedience trainer for dogs and I had been given a wolf mix. It was the ultimate test. How adaptable was I? How good was I, really?

Deirdre came to me as a well adjusted submissive and she had healed a lot. I had seen a lot of her at the other Sulfur's and she played safely to meet her needs. She didn't need my help, it was true, but if her erratic actions and jealousy were anything to go off of, she seemed interested in me and willing to accept my help for more than just having me. I found it interesting that she asked for a goal that was conscious of the fact that she did not indulge in her true desires out of fear.

My thought string made me smile because it was a good line. I was already planning, already considering how to approach it, already thinking of how to keep that consciousness in Deirdre. I didn't want to do damage in trying to help. Even if I failed in what she wished, then I wanted her to leave the experience with more knowledge. Tricky, that, when using slavery and conditioning.

It was strange how the knowledge of how careful I would have to be with her made me more careful in every other aspect of my life as well. It was as if, by some proxy, the nature spread into my mindset.

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Deirdre

Once I decided to give in to that fantasy of the girl in her happy cage, it got easier. The violence I felt when I thought of how Christopher Love was the perfect Master from my dreams was turned to a kind of acceptance. But it didn't feel like giving up, exactly. It felt more like understanding the fact that my life was good.

But maybe it could be better. People were flawed, it was true, and they could cause pain, most often without even realizing it. But sometimes good things, amazing things, came with the bad and sometimes they even far outweighed the bad.

Like Christopher's having other slaves in his possession. That had been a thought I had struggled with a lot over my few days after our wild night. Jealousy was hot in me and I didn't know why, but then when I imagined myself at his knees, watching him fuck the mouth of another slave... I had to admit that I hadn't just felt jealousy. I had burned alive in other fires, too. I had denied my slavery fantasies for so long that I wasn't even aware of some of their natures anymore, but the way that had made me feel made me consider the fact that I was jealous, yes, but maybe there was a lot more to it than that. I had masturbated so freaking hard to the thought of making my Master ready when he needed to fuck, of being like Gracie on her knees before him, lubricating Todd so he could better serve.

I milked my nipples, whimpering, "Thank you, Master," while I realized something else. Things like my jealousies could be overcome with fantasies if those fantasies were done correctly. It seemed like, if any Master could do those correctly for me, then Christopher Love was the most likely to make me burn with fire so hot that even the green jealousy flame wouldn't be felt anymore. I writhed on his floor like a sex kitten, thinking of other things, stroking his cum into my skin to wear it like a good slave. I stroked my nipples again and sighed the words, "Thank you, Master." I wanted to say those words more because they came with pleasure when I stroked myself, so I did, rewarding myself for knowing better than to let his cum fall on the floor.

I also considered another thing he'd said, that we had to trade health information, and had to smile because I appreciated him for that. He had eaten me out in a frenzy already and I knew he had my sexual health information. Anyone with a Sulfur's card logged it regularly, along with a signed agreement that the information would never be abused by either party. So he knew my health.

He just wanted to let me know his for my own comfort. "Thank you, Master." I had to smile when I said it. It felt nice to finally stop with the angry personal struggle and to just let it happen. Slavery. Terrifying word for a lot of submissives. It wasn't what they were into, which was understandable. I had always been a little jealous of their resolve, actually. My resolve was shit and my fantasies ran to things like being locked in a cage, decorated with a sexy collar, pierced for my master's pleasure, having my hair styled as he found most visually pleasing. I let those fantasies back into me, let them have sway again. It felt like maybe I was unlocking floodgates I'd kept chained and welded shut for far too long because it was a relief, so much a relief. That girl craving a fluffy display cage wasn't gone from me and never would be.

Maybe Christopher could make her believe again. If not, then I would suffer some heartache, but I wouldn't be at a loss.

I opened my eyes when the door opened and looked up at him, my perfect Master. He was smiling his approval, so I tugged my nipples again and breathed, "Thank you, Master."

He chuckled. "You're welcome." He moved one of his chairs to sit beside me, bending forward with an elbow on his knee to reach down and stroke his fingertips up my arms. And then his eyes flashed with desire and he pressed two fingers to my lips. "If you want to do this together, I would love to. More than anything, Deirdre. But we start with talking and we'll start with rules right now because I have a lot of rules, little Aurora. For this night, I want you to speak freely and by that I mean you may use words like 'I'. Don't get used to it and it would probably be better for you in the long term to make a conscious effort to use them as little as you can. You'll learn the times when I will directly ask you to speak about yourself and, in those times, I don't want you to worry about it. Clarity is important for some of what I'll ask with you as my slave."

"Yes, Master." He stroked my lips and smiled when I gave him a look that was slightly worried. For a moment, I almost said 'I'm scared' out loud, but I stopped it.

He didn't miss a thing and my faith in him grew a little more. "I know it's daunting at first, Deirdre. I am strict and harsh, it's true, but you'll find me fair."

I smiled up at him, feeling a little better and horny all over again. "Yes, Master. Thank you for the reassurance."

"You're welcome. Let's start with a few basics." He tapped his fingers against my lips. "You should think of your mouth and your asshole the same way you think of your pussy because both of those are going to be fucked like one. I've had to train slaves by having them refer to their mouth as a cunt. What's more, you open up for whatever I press to any of those holes. My fingers, my cock, a toy. If I press anal beads to your lips, you open up and suck as if you were fucking it. Think of how you'd react if I filled your greedy little pussy with two fingers right now." Jesus mother of fuck. I could imagine alright because every filthy, profane word out of his mouth made me burn in need. "Let's try it with your mouth." And I suddenly understood the gist when he pressed two fingers to my lips again. And this time I opened, thinking of how I'd writhe and moan and arch for more of him if he'd fingered me.

I lifted on the floor, whining greedily, obediently fucking those fingers between my lips as if he were using my sex. I moaned as if in ecstasy, like he wanted. "Jesus, Deirdre." His words were a husky purr of approval and he shifted off the chair, spreading his legs to sit up on his knees and straddle me instead. I stared up at him, burning, but his eyes were lit with his own possessive fire. "Yes, that's it exactly, you good little slave girl. Take it like you'd take a fucking and moan as loud as you would if your little pussy was taking cock for relief." He thrust his fingers down into my face while I sucked, so that it was nearly impossible to think of the act as anything less than what he described. I arched, writhing beneath him, moaning loudly. And I stroked a hand up his leather clad thigh, as if I couldn't resist the need to touch him anymore because I couldn't. I did it like one would grasp their partner to pull them closer, as if too hot to think of anything besides "more". And when he pulled away, I whimpered as if in loss, "Oh, please, harder!"

"Good girl. What kind of hole is this Deirdre?"

I opened my eyes back, blushing for once and ignoring it for lust. "Another pussy, Master."

His eyes were dark with pleasure and it hurt how happy that made me. "Good girl. And what am I doing to it?"

"Fucking it, Master."

"That's it." He pierced my lips again and he gave me what I'd asked for, harder. He added a third finger so that I cried out at being filled and he worked me with a fierce pace so that I pant around him as if close to orgasm. Jesus, I thought I might have been close to actual orgasm from how hot this made me. I whimpered when he pulled away, shaking, staring up at him. He cupped my face. "Remember how you loved it when I ate you out, Deirdre?"

"Yes, Master."

He smiled wickedly and bent over me, pressing his lips to mine.

I grabbed his shoulders as if starved for him and whimpered as if in pain because... I was. He thrust his tongue between my lips and I clasped him closer, remembering how I grabbed his hair when that same tongue fucked me. I lay back when he pulled away, as if waiting, submissive with sexual greed. "Good girl." His voice was a coo of pure delight. "I couldn't ask for more perfection than that. Obedient, eager slaves get rewards." He moved again to kneel beside me instead of over me and I whimpered at the loss of him. "Let's make sure we drive the idea home, though. What hole is this, Deirdre?" He stroked my lips and I parted them automatically.

"Another pussy, Master."

"Good girl." Once again, he thrust his fingers into me and I squealed, lifting.

And then I arched with a shout because he cupped me between my legs over my jeans. "Oh, please!" It was a mockery of the words around his fingers, but it made his eyes light with heat anyway.

He chuckled over me with approval when I sucked harder, lifting my face to meet his motion even while I spread my legs wide and writhed for that as well. "That's what we like to hear and see. You learned that lesson so well that you've made me curious. Why don't you show me how the pussy in your face feels when you cum?"

One slap. That's all he gave me between my legs and all I needed and I went off like a firework, shouting around his fingers, so that he growled and stuffed another in me. I sucked all four he gave me, lapping at them in my gratitude for his pleasure and how intense it burned me, sucking him with hunger. Pleasure came from taking him in the hole in my face, so it wasn't even an act. He gradually stilled his hand and pulled away, so that I whimpered in greedy loss, staring up at him with wide eyes. My lips were swollen and I left them parted, as if in invitation for more of his wonderful abuse.

He smiled at the sight and kissed my forehead, leaning down and stroking my hair. When he pulled away, he cradled my face. "Thank you for your trust in asking me for this, Deirdre. I don't take it lightly and I will ask for more trust from you. Sometimes it will feel painful, especially with your past, but I will always try to make it worth it for you."

I made to tell him many things that involved those words he disapproved of. Things like "I trust you" or "I'll try my best anyway" and those things were good things to say. But there was something better. "Thank you for your promise, Master."

And it sounded more perfect than any of the others. Christopher stroked me, lifting me up, and then he cradled me in his lap in a chair to the side. His voice was gentle when he spoke and he started to ask me soft, methodical questions. He asked about my schedule, asked about any true terrors I had, commanding me to speak freely about myself. I answered questions about myself as he asked them, but otherwise didn't speak more than I had to.

Except to ask one question. It occurred to me that he wasn't asking much about my past. "Master?" He inclined his head to indicate I should continue and I kept my voice as respectful as possible, using careful wording. "Will you teach me why matters of the past aren't so important?"

He gave me a look full of pride and my heart felt like it would burst. "That was beautiful. And yes. It's because they don't matter. I'll learn whatever effects it's had in the same way I'd learn any slave and I'll act accordingly. For now, dwelling on it feels counterproductive to getting past the fear it's given you. I'd rather hear about your fantasies instead. Tell me ones you had before your previous slave relationship. Speak as free as you can for this one."

He laughed at how I grinned eagerly and I told him. It felt like a confessional of some kind when I told him about all those hidden desires, including the cage, while he watched me with his piercing, hazel eyes. After a while, I softly asked, "Will you tell me some of your fantasies?"

At first he blinked in something like shock, but then he started to talk and it was his turn where he described the rooms he'd made in his brand of Sulfur's, where he spoke of having a horny slave who was greedy for his cum and piss and cock, one who reacted to a throat or ass fucking with the exact same lust she had for her pussy. We spoke well into the night, even after his bar closed, and every second felt like a dream come true.

He finally said in a soft voice, that if I wanted to take my offer back of no limits, no restraint, and no time constraints, then I had better say so now. His gaze held me still with its intensity when he finished with, "Because, Deirdre, I really want you and I'm going to be a very selfish and demanding Master with your time and body if you give yourself to me so totally."

I stroked his hair back, loving with the same amount of flame as I had been so jealous and scared with before. "Master should decide his slave's limits and times."

He growled his pleasure and kissed me, violently. "Very well." And then he set it.

Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights I was his property from 7 to 10 at night. Come Friday, I was his at 7 again and I did not leave his possession until Sunday at noon.

"This is mine," he whispered over me, stroking between my legs. "And these." He toyed with my nipples. "Mine."

My answer wasn't actually necessary because he very clearly said those words for how much the thought aroused him, but I answered anyway, for how much the thought aroused me. "Yours, Master." His eyes lit up with desire. I partially expected him to use me that night. He didn't.

He showed me his up to date sexual health exams and I gave him mine as well, though he already knew it. And then he started with more rules.

Like he'd warned, he had a lot of motherfreaking rules.

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My orgasms were his in their entirety, for a start. Though my body would leave his possession outside of the agreed hours, there were some rules that followed outside of those times. That was one. During certain times, starting with a few days from when we started, I was to go to someone he knew to be waxed. "My slaves are all hairless from the neck down, male or female, Deirdre." And God, the way he said that? I whimpered eagerly and there wasn't even jealousy in a single one of my thoughts. There was just hot arousal.

He definitely noticed, his eyes sparking with his amusement. He gave me hair care products or lotions, commanding me in uses and how often. "Slaves are for pleasure," he said softly. "Is that clear, little Aurora?" He stroked a hand between my legs so that I cried out, arching in his arms. "We want every inch of you smooth and soft. Whenever anyone so much as strokes my slave's hair or body, they'll beg me permission for another touch."

It made me tremble where he held me, made me whimper. It was true I was rough around the edges and true that I was mean when I had to be, but the slave in me didn't want to ever have to be. The slave in me was vain enough to crave the things he described, to want to be desired and adored and fawned over.

What was more, he had me entwined in his arms while he described these things, so that I was in a sinuous dance with him, grinding his body with need while he chuckled as if cool and unaffected.