Two Do Ron-Ron Ch. 03

He carried me into his bedroom, fastening my collar to a long chain that ran from the foot of the bed. He was obviously eager to exercise a master's rights upon the body of his slave, for he took me dry, without any warm-up, just slammed into me and had his pleasure, and although it was a painful rape, I loved being used by him in that way, and later, told him so.

He laughed and kissed me. "Women are made to be used by men, owned by men. Don't you always respond better sexually when you're in the hands of a man who really knows what to do with you? Of course you do. A woman senses her master in the man who's using her, and yields to it, and the man responds to her submission with greater mastery. It works for them both. And you, my lovely little piece of tail, are a natural slave."

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

He laughed again. "I wanted to own you from the first minute I saw you dance; long before I fucked you. Then once I paid for your use that night at the club, I knew I had to have you permanently."

I snuggled up against him. "You could have just asked me out."

He slapped my ass, but I could tell he was smiling. "I didn't want a relationship with you, silly slut, I wanted to own you! It all came down to connections: a friend of Chet's knew the slave trader, and Chet knew David wouldn't hesitate to sell you if he had the chance, and I'd told Chet the morning after I'd had you that I wanted to buy you if I could, so it was all set up. The slavers handled the kidnapping and sale: we thought selling you direct from David to me would have been, ah, indiscreet. Though he does know I bought you, of course, and is very pleased with the price you fetched. But the auction worked out perfectly."

"Yes, I think it did." I realized now why the auctioneer had said he'd had me: he had been one of the dozens of men who had fucked me at the birthday party that night.

My training began the next day. It was fairly simple: various slave positions, how my master liked to be approached, how to address him. He informed me early on that I would be given to other men whenever he felt like it, and that I would be expected to please them as well as I pleased him.

"You will kneel at all times in the presence of men. On entering a room where I am, you will prostrate yourself by the door and not move until acknowledged. You will not speak unless spoken to or commanded otherwise. You will address all men as 'master' and all free women and senior slavegirls as 'mistress'. You will be naked in my various homes at all times, except for your collar or if I order you to wear specific items. You will not leave the house, ever. With my permission, you may go in the gardens or the pool or down to the private beach, and you will let me know where you are at all times. You have no name until I give you one. You have no rights, no freedoms, no will of your own, no chance of escape. I may chain you in the house as it pleases me. You're an animal, valuable livestock, my property to do with as I please. I own you the way I own my car or my dog or my shirt. You will obey me perfectly and please me completely or you'll be disciplined. And you can be sold to another master at any time, for any reason or no reason."

I was happy to obey him; he was so beautiful and he owned me so completely. I had never realized it, but I truly was a natural slave. Maybe David and Chet had known, but though I knew I liked men to overpower me, take me by force, the slave aspect had never crossed my mind. But now that I had no choice, I found I loved it.

My master thought my body already perfectly to his taste, and I was already pierced just about everywhere a female body could take a piercing, but he had a few more rings put in, on my inner labia, so he could lace me completely closed at his will. He gave me slim steel shackles at wrists and ankles, to match my collar, but the rest of me, brand included, was fine just as I was.

He was full of strength and vitality, and often used me three or four times a day; my body was being trained and conditioned to respond to his. Ever since my first sexual experiences, once I figured out what to do to make sex fabulous for both my partner and me I'd never failed to have an orgasm, or several, every single time I was fucked. But he forced my body to climaxes that ripped us both apart and left us gasping and trembling, and we both loved it.

He entertained frequently, and to my great surprise, often his friends had slaves of their own they brought along; we slavegirls got along fine, trading stories of use, sharing techniques, boasting of the strength and beauty of our masters, how perfectly they had enslaved us.

Sometimes he'd give me to one of these friends for the night, or a weekend, trading me for another slavegirl, and I took pleasure in serving with perfection, and hearing my prowess and obedience praised to my master the next day. But I was always jealous when another slavegirl served him instead of me.

He did beat me from time to time: if I spilled the wine serving him, if I wasn't sufficiently alluring as I danced for him or submissive to his guests. But the whippings were always deserved, and he wasn't angry with me; he just punished me correctly for my fault and the thing was over.

I've been his slave for a year now. After a couple of months, my master allowed me to go back to work at the club a few times a month, dancing for private audiences under his watchful eye, and I was so happy he did. We have a wonderful life together: I never thought I could find such joy in being a man's slave, and he says the same of being a girl's master. We're very lucky, I think.

Then last night he told me to expect an overnight guest, and when I opened the door, naked as usual except for my collar and my brand, David stood in the entry hall. I dropped to my knees, as I would have done before any man, and David raised me up, smiling.

"Hello, Ronnie," he said. "Nice to see you again."

"Thank you, Master David," I replied. "But my master calls me Veronica."

"Veronica, then. A good slave name."

It was strange, serving David at dinner in my nakedness, being ordered to his room by my master, given to him to use for the night. We had once made love as equals and partners; now I was a slave anxious to please him. Which I apparently did.

"I really like fucking you as a slave," he said, thrusting into me; the feeling of his hard cock after so long was both weird and familiar. But the dynamic was different now, and we both sensed it. "You were a great fuck as a girlfriend, but you're a much better fuck as a slave."

"I am pleased if master is pleased," I said in correct slave mode.

He laughed and continued to pound his cock into my dripping cunt, feeling me writhe under him, hearing me moan. "You really always were a natural slave, you know. Did you mind being sold?"

I smiled. "Not a bit, really." Then I couldn't speak as he used me hard and well, his cock drilling me the way it used to, his motion on me making me wild, my body spasming under his.

After we were finished, David laid a hand on my smooth pussy, moving it over my hipbones, my soft inner thighs, toying with my rings. I love everything about fucking, but there's something about a man idly stroking me and talking with me after he's used me that makes me feel totally female and complete.

"You didn't know it, but the sale was for a year only. Basically, Mark here bought you on contract, like hiring you for a year, but with the understanding that you should believe you were a slave and he could train you as he pleased. From what he tells me, you were well worth what he paid for you, and I got a nice price for you which came in very useful with some deals I was working. But the year's up. I can claim you back now and you'll be free again. Do you want me to?"

My master—Mark! I'd never known his real name before—had been in the room watching the whole performance, and I hadn't even known. But I was pleased that he'd seen me serve another man so well, pleased that he knew what a perfect slave he owned.

There was laughter in his voice now. "Well, do you want him to, slut? Answer honestly, or I'll have to whip you."

I slipped from the bed and knelt at my master's feet. "No, master. I want to stay here as your slave, if you still want me."

I looked up at him, teasingly, and began to run my hands up his thighs, rubbing my head against his crotch, feeling him harden through the jeans he wore.

"And that's an honest answer. But please, will you whip me anyway?"

My master laughed, and so did David. "Oh, I think that can be arranged."