Blaine

Blaine Part One

ARRIVAL

The red Chevrolet corvette roared along the highway, the only car for miles. Behind the steering wheel was Blaine Carson, 42 years young, and as hot as she had ever been, in her aviator sunglasses, short-cropped blonde hair, tight red top, and her black leather trousers. Blaine Carson had just won the lottery, and was determined to live life to the full, to do all of those things she had never done before. The first thing she intended to do was to find some cock.

She loved cock. She loved hard, teenage cock thrusting between her shaven labia, spurting deep inside her. She loved hard male cock covering her face with sperm. And she loved to see male cocks in pain, the face scrunched up in agony, as she rewarded a big cock with hit, sexy agony.

She was meeting some young, eighteen year old stud who had been positive for her internet advert asking for an eighteen or nineteen year old good-looking guy with a cock of at least nine inches, and a good body. She had the details of Johnny Fletcher on her knew smartphone, the undraped photo which he had sent her, showing a cock big enough for her. And he had looked ripped, with the sort of abs which she could just bite.

She had been totally honest in her post: she was looking for a young man who would be her slave, 24/7, 365 days a year. A guy who she could fuck, and who she could dominate and hurt. Somebody who would be happy to disappear from the world. Somebody who had no limits. Somebody who had no safe words.

Fuck, but she had had a lot of replies. They had gone into three figures. But that vast majority of them weren’t ripped; were clearly older than eighteen or nineteen; and had pathetic little cocks. Losers, the lot of them. Except for Johnny Fletcher. He had been almost exactly what she had been looking for. Which was why she was roaring across Arizona, on her way to meet this stud.

She neared his home town, only to see stud walking along the side of the road, holding a sign with “Blaine” written with marker pen on cardboard. She had arranged to meet him at his house. She roared to a stop beside him.

“Get in.” she said, opening the passenger door.

“I had a row with my parents…” Johnny began to say, putting a small rucksack in the footwell were he was sitting.

“I don’t give a fuck about that.” Blaine said. And she didn’t care about his familial problems. “You’re mine now. Your family is part of your past, a life which no longer exists. Close the door.”

Johnny pulled the door shut. He was even more gorgeous in real life than on a computer monitor. But he was just one of the new things which Blaine had acquired. Her little red corvette was another one. So was her new home, built to her specifications, under a confidentiality clause. Her new house was in Wyoming, a few miles away from the town of Eden – close enough so that she could drive into Eden, but far away that she shouldn’t be disturbed. It was a very fine one-story building, miles away from the main highway, nothing else around. It was a place which would be both Heaven and Hell for Johnny Fletcher.

It looked like a one-storey building. But the basement was as extensive as the building above ground. It had everything which a dungeon should have. It had every cock and ball torture toy she had been able to find.

Blaine put the radio on, finding a rock station. Yeah, she had been a rock chick in a former life. She turned the radio up loud When Joan Jett and the Blackhearts came on, blaring out “I Love Rock and Roll” as Blaine drove north through Arizona. She had about half the state to cover, then Utah, and then into Wyoming. She was not gonna do it all in one go. She had a motel lined up in Richfield, in Utah. There she intended to see just how good Johnny’s cock was. She doubted whether, at eighteen years old, he would be a very good lover. But she intended to teach him. He would soon learn – if he knew what was good for him.

As she drove Blaine lit up. Smoking cigarettes was one bad habit which she had never been able to kick. She’d probably die of fucking lung cancer. So be it. She was gonna cram in every possible experience before that happened. And there were a lot of men who liked to see sexy women smoking. From the email exchanges with Johnny she knew that he was one of those guys. She bet that he wouldn’t find cigarettes so sexy when she put one out on his scrotum. But she wasn’t going to do anything like that until she had her prize catch safely in the dungeon of her house. She didn’t want him to be the one who got away.

Blaine was very aware that Johnny was watching her smoke. She tried to smoke the cigarette as sexily as she could, almost imagining that it was a little cock. She blew smoke out, exhaling in a way that made her breasts – her best features – move around a little in the bra that struggled to contain them. Yes, she caught a glance at her big tits. Johnny was definitely a tit man. And nature had blessed her with large breasts. They were one thing on which she had not had to spend any money (unless you counted the cleavage-creating bras from Victoria’s Secrets).

“You said that we’re stopping over in Beaver.” Johnny said, trying to make small talk over the rock music.

“Change of plan.” Blaine said. “We’re gonna go all the way to Richfield.” Blaine had deliberately given this young man the wrong information, just in case he told some family member, and they came after him. Blaine didn’t want some scene. But he was eighteen, so he was an adult. But, anyway, this was effectively an abduction.

Johnny got a phone out, an old mobile. Blaine snatched it out of his hands and threw it high into the air. It landed behind the car and smashed.

“Hey!” Johnny said, turning in his seat to look at the remains of his phone, now disappearing behind them.

“I told you, no fucking phones!” Blaine snapped. He had to learn to obey her, completely and utterly. Otherwise it was going to get very painful for him. He had no idea of just what she could do to a set of cock and balls.

They carried on, towards Blaine’s home and Johnny’s fate…

That evening, in the motel room, Blaine tied Johnny naked to the bed, after they had both showered. She used her softest pieces of rope to tie him spread-eagled. He did not complain, which was good. Even better was the fact that the act of tying him up caused him to have a full erection. But it didn’t take a lot for an eighteen year old to get a rock hard erection. He was at the peak of his sexual abilities – which was why Blaine had only wanted an eighteen or nineteen year old stud. Why pick somebody in their forties who was way past his peak? Plus it should be easier to train him. At eighteen he was not to set in his ways. He could still be trained.

Blaine rode Johnny until his big cock spurted deep into her cunt. He came far too quickly, as far as Blaine was concerned. He would have to be trained to hold back his orgasm.

Her cunt full of spunk Blaine sat on his face.

“Clean me up.” she ordered. But Johnny turned his face away.

“I’m not gay.” the idiot said, infuriating Blaine.

“Listen here, you little shit,” she hissed “you are anything which I fucking say you are. You will clean me up, or I will rent you out to every gay club in the USA, so that you drink more spunk than you have ever drunk water. You will obey me from now on. That is what a slave does.”

She dug her sharp fingernails into his nipples. She saw his semi-hard cock twitch. It seemed that pain turned him on. That was good, as he was going to experience plenty of it, in the years to come.

Johnny began tonguing Blaine’s cunt, licking her out, swallowing his own cum. At first he was hesitant, not wanting to perform this duty. But, as he continued, he became more eager, and his cock, having cum once, became rock hard again. It was clear that humiliation, as well as pain, turned on Johnny, even if he had not been aware of that fact before. It was all well and good.

Blaine finally came on Johnny’s face, his inexperienced tongue inside her, as she thought of all the things that she was going to do to him. She carried on sitting on his face until he brought her to a second orgasm. She did nothing about his hard cock. Let it be hard. Let him get blue balls.

She slept in a chair, not wanting to release Johnny from the bed. Let him have his first taste of orgasm denial.

The next day Blaine and Johnny continued on their way. He was very quiet. But he obeyed everything that Blaine asked of him. That was a good sign.

By the evening they had arrived at Blaine’s one storey ranch in Wyoming.

From the outside it looked like a normal one storey building. No other houses were anywhere near. The drive led up to the front of the place, and a large garage next to the house. Blaine intended to get more cars than her little red corvette. She felt the need for speed. A black Jaguar would be nice, or maybe a yellow Porsche Boxster.

Blaine got a black dustbin bag out of the glove box. She got out of the car.

“Take all of your clothes off, slave.” she said, firmly. “From now on I will decide what you will wear, or even if you will wear anything at all. Put the clothes in the bag. All of them.”

Johnny Fletcher opened his mouth, then thought better of objecting. Good, he was learning. He put all of his clothes in the black plastic bag. His cock began to get hard, standing there, naked, next to a fully grown woman old enough to be his mother. He put his hands in front of his body, as though to hide his cock.

“Hands behind your back!” Blaine snapped. “You are not to hide your cock from me. You are never to hide your cock from me.”

Johnny blushed, but put his hands behind his back, as his cock became fully erect. At least he was circumcised. But there would have to be some changes. His pubic hair would have to go, for a start.

“I like my lovers to have hairless bodies.” Blaine said, as she walked around the young man, studying his almost perfect body. “Every morning you will shave off every single hair on your body. If I find a single hair you will be punished.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Johnny said, submissively.

“Furthermore, your name is no longer Johnny Fletcher.” Blaine continued. “Johnny Fletcher no longer exists. You will be called Slave. You are an object, not a person, and as such, you have no rights. No rights, no limits, and no safe words, remember.”

Slave nodded his assent – not that it was required. He had already consented to a life without consent.

“There is one final rule – for the moment – and that is that you are not to cum without my permission. In fact, from this moment on, you are not allowed to touch that cock without permission. The cock is mine, not yours, and you will be punished if you disobey me. And I do mean punished.

“You will suffer light beatings – and other things – because such things turn me on. I want to see your ass reddened by a strap. But those minor beatings will not be punishments. Consider them to be part of your training. And you will need a lot of training. Your skills at cunnilingus are sadly lacking. That will be the first thing in which you will be trained. After you have achieved a respectable level of ability I will train you in other pleasures.”

Slave looked a little crestfallen.

“Don’t worry, Slave, you will be allowed to cum a lot – if you please me. If you really please me I will allow you to cum inside me. But I like to see a large cock spurt lots of white cum. I like to watch. And you will have to drink every single drop of cum from now on, whether you cum inside me or not.”

“Yes, Mistress Blaine.” Slave murmured. His cock jerked at the thought of being made to swallow his own cum for the rest of his life.

“Good. Now I will show you where you will live when I am not playing with you. I am a highly sexed individual, and I will be playing with you a lot, so you will not get bored. But I won’t play with you today. I want you to get used to your new surroundings, and settle in to your life as a slave.”

That had been the plan, and Blaine decided to stick to it, despite her pussy creaming at the thoughts of all the things she would get to do to this young man with the big cock – her cock, to fuck and torture, she reminded herself. Oh, yes, she was going to have a lot of fun with Slave.

Blaine got out her wallet, and extracted a key card. She slid it down the door at the front of her home. Everything had electronic locks. No keyholes to be picked.

The glass door slid silently to the side. Blaine and her slave entered her home.

“Wow.” Slave said, looking around. It was, without doubt, the most luxurious house in which he had ever been, far better than his old home back in Arizona. It had every device a person could wish for. The living room had white leather sofas, a carpet you could sink into, and a 72” ultra high definition flat screen TV attached to one wall. The kitchen had a walk-in freezer and a cooker that Blaine doubted she would use. The days of cooking over a stove were over, as far as she was concerned. The microwave would do for her and Slave. But she liked to have a top of the range cooker, just in case. It was flaunting her wealth.

The bathroom was massive. It had a sunken bath, a shower, a toilet, a bidet and a sauna area. Blaine’s bedroom was equally vast, with the biggest bed she had been able to find. But she did not intend to share her bed with anybody. When she fucked Slave it would be elsewhere.

“Come with me.” Blaine said. Her naked slave followed her into a corridor with wooden panelling on the wall. Blaine pressed one of the panels. It slid in backwards around an inch. Then a whole section of panelling slid to the side, revealing carpeted stairs going down. A light came on above the steps.

The steps went down some thirty feet, to the dungeon area of Blaine’s home. Anything which occurred down here would not be heard on the ground level. Blaine had tested it, playing Metallica at the highest volume. She had not head a thing.

At the bottom of the steps there was a door covered by wood panelling. The door had a metal core, however, and no human being could break through it when it was locked. A keycard unlocked the door. Beyond was a passage with walls with wood panelling on them. It did not look like a dungeon. But that was what it was. It was a dungeon where a person could be held and anybody searching the ground floor would never be able to find them.

There were several doors leading off the main passage, in this underground complex.

“This is your room.” Blaine said, unlocking the door to “Slave’s Room” with a keycard. It said “Slave’s Room” on the door, just in case anybody was in doubt. The room beyond was not some prison cell, but quite luxurious, with soft carpet on the floor, a double bed in the centre of the room, a television on the wall, and a DVD player. The room was very warm, and Slave would not need to wear clothes in here. There were no clothes on the bed, however, although there were a couple of pillows. The bed was bolted in position so that it could not be moved. A CCTV camera on one wall was trained on the bed.

There was a small en suite bathroom with a shower cubicle and a toilet. There was another CCTV camera in there.

“You will have no privacy.” Blaine said. “The cameras are to ensure that you do not masturbate without permission. Believe me, I will know if you do, and you will be punished. There is one exception.”

Blaine pointed to a large, life-sized poster covering one wall. The poster was of a stern-looking, semi-naked Blaine Carson. She was wearing only thigh-high leather stiletto boots, and she was brandishing a nasty-looking riding crop. The picture had been taken from a very low angle, the camera lens looking up at her naked body. Her legs were spread wide, revealing her pouting labia. It was a very dominant picture.

“Each morning, after you have showered and shaved off any hairs on your body, you are to kneel in front of the picture of your Mistress and to masturbate your cock. You are to masturbate, but you are NOT allowed to cum. You are to remain in that position until I open the door and give you your breakfast. If you are not in the position when I open the door you will be punished. Also, I want you to come up with some mantra as to how much you desire me, and how you are willing to suffer for me. I suggest that you write it down and learn it by heart. If it is not sufficiently submissive you will be punished. As you are a new slave I will give you three attempts to come up with something suitably submissive. If none of the first three are good enough I will torture you each day until you create something expressing true submission.

“I do not want you to get bored, so when I am not playing with you you are allowed to read books or watch DVDs. That television only functions as a monitor for the DVD player. You cannot get any channels on it.”

Blaine did not want her slave watching the news just in case there was anything about him on it. She needn’t have worried. Nothing ever appeared on the news about a missing Johnny Fletcher. He was just one more person who had disappeared without trace, and for which nobody would ever search.

“The lights, and the power to the DVD player and monitor, go out at ten o’clock at night.” Blaine continued. “They come on again at six o’clock in the morning.”

There was no clock in there, and Blaine could easily override the controls from her computer on the ground floor. Everything from the CCTVs went to the computer. Her computer could store petabytes of data. It could hold thousands of hours of video.

“I will leave you to get accustomed to this place.” Blaine said. “If you are a good slave, this is where you will sleep. If you are bad, then you will not sleep here, but cramped up in a metal cage in the dungeon. I suggest that you obey me.”

Blaine left Slave to get used to his new life.

The DVDs were all ones which had been approved by Blaine. They were all films with strong female actors: Mae West, Bette Davis, Glenn Close and so on. There was no porn. Blaine wanted her Slave to only be aroused by her.

The books were only by female authors. None of them were porn. Slave did not bother reading them yet. He looked for a clock, but there was no sight of one. He had no way to judge the passage of time. He lay on the bed.

Blaine was watching him, through her computer. She turned off the light a little before ten. But she kept watching for a little while, his body showing up whitish-green on the special camera. Blaine watched as one of his hands stole down to his big cock, and he masturbated to orgasm, coming on his chest.

Blaine smiled. The slave had disobeyed her. And he would be punished for that.

She went to bed, thinking that her life was about to get very interesting.

DAY ONE

The next morning Blaine entered her Slave’s room just after he had finished showering, and shaving off all the hairs on his body. At lease he had got that right. She was naked apart from the same leather boots in the poster. She held a thin, long piece of wood, like some wooden version of a skewer.

“YOU DISOBEYED ME!” she shouted at Slave, in mock anger (although a part of her was thrilled). “YOU MASTURBATED TO ORGASM, DESPITE THAT NOT BEING ALLOWED!”

Slave took a step backwards. He looked very nervous. But he did not deny what he had done.

“It is my cock, not yours.” Blaine said. “It disobeyed me. Therefore it must be punished. You may arouse yourself. I need an erect cock for this. Know that this will be the least punishment you will suffer, and that if you disobey me again, any further punishments will be much harsher.”

Slave wanked until his cock was rock hard.

“Now, I want you to hold the side of your glans with your fingers, and pull on it, to open your urethra as wide as you can. You are to get six of the best. You must count out each stroke. If you do not count it out it will be repeated.”

Feeling very nervous Slave did as instructed, getting his pisshole to flare. Blain held the little stick with one hand, bending it back with the other. Her eyes shone with arousal. She positioned the stick carefully. Then she let go of the end. The wooden stick sprang forward, to impact with Slave’s pisshole, whipping onto the very end of the glans. Slave screamed in pain, and moved back, holding his cock. He felt as though his glans had been cut open. But there was no blood. Only pain.

“You didn’t count.” Blaine said. “We will have to start all over again. Resume the position.”

Slave did as he had been told, presenting his cock for punishment. Blaine bent the flexible stick backwards again.

Whhhih.

“Aaaah! One.” Slave still moved away, but that was acceptable, as he had at least counted out the stroke. And he did not need to be told to get back in the correct position.

Whhhih.

“Aaaah! Two.” He screamed so prettily, Blaine thought. It was so sexy when Slave was in pain. She managed not to giggle. But she was really enjoying hurting his cock.

Whhhih.

“Aaaah! Three. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“No swearing, slave.”

“Sorry, Mistress.”

Whhhih.

“Aaaah! Four.” Yes, he really was wonderful when he was in pain. His cock and balls were going to be in pain a lot.

Whhhih.

“Aaaah! Five.”

“Just one more, Slave.” Blaine said. She pulled back the flexible piece of wood even further, and waited, before releasing it, letting Slave fear the impending pain.

Whhhih.

“Aaaah! Six.”

“There, all done.” Blaine said. Slave’s piss slit looked very red. It was bound to be in a lot of pain. But it was not bleeding. It would recover, although Slave would remember the pain for a lot longer than it had lasted.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“Who owns that cock?”

“You do Mistress.”

“So will you masturbate without permission?”

“No, Mistress; never, Mistress.” There was genuine fear in his voice. He was learning.

“Good. I will bring you breakfast in a bit. But you did break a rule so, tonight, you will have to sleep in the cage, I’m afraid, as you will any day when you break the rules. A little later I will show you exactly how to adore your Mistress with your tongue. I suggest that you begin working on your mantra of how you worship your Mistress. Tomorrow morning I will judge whether it is acceptable or not.”

Blaine left Slave to his own devices. She was confident that he would not touch his cock.

After breakfast Blaine began Slave’s training as a pussy-licker. This took place in one of the other subterranean rooms. The room had a large, circular bed, on which Slave could be chained in position, for when Blaine wanted to fuck Slave’s cock; a metal framework over which Slave could be bound when Blaine wanted to fuck Slave up the ass with a strap-on; and a queening chair, although Blaine intended that it serve other purposes, when Slave was further into his training.

Blaine handcuffed Slave’s hands behind his back. She helped him lie down, his head supported just below the seat of the throne. The seat was partially hollow. If Blaine sat down on the seat her pussy would be at the perfect distance to be tongued by Slave. If she shifted forward in the seat she could present her anus for adoration. But analingus was not yet on the menu for slave. For the moment Blaine wanted Slave to master cunnilingus. It was not just about sticking a tongue in between a pair of labia and wiggling it about.

Blaine taught Slave everything she knew: how to explore all of the creases of a pussy; how to not go diving in; how and when to either swirl a tongue around, or flick it over, a clitoris; which areas were the most sensitive; and so on. Within minutes of beginning his adoration of his Mistress’s pussy Slave had a raging hard on. It pleased Blaine to see it. But she did nothing with it, until Slave had given her at least three orgasms.

In a gap between orgasms, when Blaine gave Slave a rare breather, she spoke to the face between her thighs.

“I think that we need a new rule, Slave.” she gasped, looking down at the face stained with her pussy juice. “Since you are only a Slave in training you are to give me at least three orgasms before you are even considered for an orgasm of your own. That is fair, isn’t it, Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Slave said, submissively. He felt that he had found his new station in life, his face between Blaine’s thighs, bringing her to orgasm after orgasm. Why would he want anything else.

“In future, when you are trained, the number will slowly increase; and you will never get to cum more than once per day, no matter what. But you have given me three. Would you like to cum, slave?”

“Yes please, Mistress.”

Blaine gave Slave the best handjob of his life. She had brought a plastic cup with her. She caressed the length of his hard cock, no worse for wear, really, for the whipping of his piss hole. Soon Slave was spurting a LOT of cum into the plastic cup. Blaine made sure that she caught it all in the cup. She loved to see men cum, the hot white sperm bursting out of the piss slit.

She got up off her throne. Her eyes were bright.

“Open your mouth.” she commanded. Slave opened his mouth wide, despite knowing what was coming. Blaine dripped the spunk in Slave’s waiting mouth. Then she made Slave lick the cup clean. Well, she had already turned him into a cum-drinking Slave. He would be drinking down all of his cum for the rest of his life. It was a good sign that he no longer found it distasteful, considering some of the things which would be going in his mouth in future.

Slave was to spend the rest of the day pleasuring Blaine.

That night, instead of being allowed to sleep on his comfortable bed, Slave was taken into the dungeon, to spend the night in the dog cage. It was the first time that Slave had seen the dungeon. His eyes widened as he saw the rack, and the X-frame, and the other nasty pieces of equipment in the place. This was a place of pain and misery, and Slave decided that he wanted to spend as little time as possible in the place.

The floor was bare concrete, and the ambient temperature was set to be colder than the other rooms, so that the Slave would be aware of the chill temperature, but not so cold as to do him any harm. He soon had goose pimples on his body.

He was led over to the stainless steel cage. It was set into the concrete, so that it could not move around. Dull pebbles had been set into the concrete on the floor of the cage, so that it would be uncomfortable for anybody kneeling in the cage – and the cage was so small that anybody in it would have to kneel.

Slave had his hands handcuffed behind his back. He then had to shuffle one his knees into the cage. His head was pressed up against the front bars, while his butt was pressing against the bars of the cage door when it was locked. The cage was too small to move around in.

“The cage bars can be electrified.” Blaine said. “So be thankful for small mercies. Also, the next time you are in the cage, you will have a buttplug all night.”

Blaine left Slave shivering in the chill air, his legs on the uncomfortable stones, bent over unable to change his position. She left the light on all night. Slave got little in the way of sleep.

DAY TWO

The next morning, when Blaine released Slave for his morning body shave and shower, Slave begged her never to put him in the cage again.

“You know the rules, Slave.” she said, firmly. “Behave and you can sleep on your bed. Misbehave and you will sleep in the cage. It is up to you where you sleep.”

Slave resolved to obey Mistress Blaine in all things.

After breakfast, Blaine asked Slave to recite the mantra which he was supposed to be working on.

“I’m sorry Mistress, I forgot.” Slave admitted.

“That counts as a failure, slave.” Blaine said. “You have two more attempts to get it right. Fail a third time and you will be punished. However, you will be allowed back onto your bed tonight – as long as you don’t misbehave later in the day. However, since you did not complete your task, you will not get to cum today, no matter how many orgasms you give me. This is but a reminder. That is fair, slave, is it not?”

“Yes, Mistress, it is fair.”

“Now, I said that you are to get daily strappings. This is not a punishment, and is because it turns me on to redden your ass. You want me to be turned on, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Slave sighed.

He was taken to the Queening chamber, and strapped to the metal frame in there. The frame presented his ass perfectly for fucking – or for punishment. Mistress Blaine chose one of her lightest straps, a wide strap of soft leather. The crack of the leather hitting Slave’s backside was far more impressive than its impact. Mistress Blaine kept going until Slave’s buttocks were a nice pink hue. She did not bother counting the strokes. This was not a punishment. And it did turn on Mistress Blaine. She was a natural sadist. She liked hurting Slave. Ah, but if he could just have seen inside her head, then he would have shrieked in terror, at some of the things Blaine had planned for him, in the fullness of time.

Apart from food Slave spent the rest of the day under the queening chair, bringing Blaine to orgasm after orgasm. While he brought her pleasure Blaine teased his cock and balls mercilessly, bringing him to the edge of orgasm more than a dozen times, but never letting him cum. By the time Slave was allowed to retire for the night he was exhausted.

He had time to do the first draft of his mantra of adoration of his Mistress before the light went out. Slave curled up on the bed and went to sleep.

DAY THREE

Slave woke. Slave had a shower, went to the loo, and made sure that there were no hairs on his body. Slave sat in front of the poster of his Mistress and stroked his cock in worship, being careful not to cum.

Mistress entered the room, wearing jeans and tee shirt, but still exuding an aura of dominance.

“Read out your mantra of submission.” Mistress said. Slave scurried over to his bedside table and grabbed the piece of paper on which he had been working the previous evening. He returned to a position kneeling, facing the poster.

“I adore Mistress Blaine. She is a Goddess to me…” he began. But Mistress Blaine was not pleased. She ran over to him and grabbed the piece of paper from him.

“YOU ARE NOT I!” she shouted at him. “YOU ARE NOT ME! You will only refer to yourself as Slave, in the third person. You are an object, not a person. You have failed. Start again!”

Blaine tore up the paper, letting the fragments fall on the kneeling Slave.

Slave spent the morning giving cunnilingus to Mistress Blaine. As he had failed he was not allowed to cum, and once again Blaine had great fun in teasing his cock, edging him over and over again. The fact that he gave her at least three orgasms did not matter. He would have to wait at least another day for release.

In the afternoon Blaine sat in a slightly different position in the chair, and began to teach Slave the beauty of worshipping his Mistress’s asshole. He spent the rest of the day giving her analingus, something which she clearly enjoyed. He was instructed how to rim her, and how to bury his tongue deep in her anal ring, savouring her musky interior. Tonguing her anus turned him on even more, if that was possible, than giving cunnilingus, and Mistress Blaine dared not touch his cock, less he explode in orgasm. By the end of the day Mistress Blaine was satisfied with his analingus skills.

Once he was free, in his room, Slave hurriedly rewrote the mantra, wanting to be allowed to cum the next day – and not wanting to be put in that cage for a night. It had been too uncomfortable. You couldn’t sleep when your knees were pressing into hard stones.

It was still not perfect when the light went out, plunging him into utter darkness.

DAY FOUR

Slave woke. Slave had a shower, went to the loo, and made sure that there were no hairs on his body. Slave sat in front of the poster of his Mistress and stroked his cock in worship, being careful not to cum. He was already in a routine, and he was only beginning his fourth full day of slavery. He had a lifetime of enslavement ahead of him.

After breakfast Mistress Blaine had slave read out his mantra.

“Slave worships his Goddess. Slave wants to please his goddess, and will do anything to please her. Goddess is never wrong. Slave will suffer to please Goddess. Slave never wants to be released. Slave begs his Mistress to do anything that arouses her, no matter how much it hurts the unworthy Slave.”

“That is much better, but it is not yet there.” Blaine said. “You need to be more subservient. What if I decide to turn you into a toilet? What if I want to beat your balls? You need more details of the things which you desire to suffer in order to please me. Do it again.”

Slave groaned. He had failed a third time. That meant that he would not be allowed to cum that day. It meant that he would be punished. It meant that he would have to sleep in the cage that night. But he did not complain.

It did not occur to Slave that Blaine had decided to fail him, no matter what he had written. All that he could think about was another painful night in the cage.

That was not yet, though. For now his training continued. Blaine had decided that he was good enough at analingus. She wanted to fuck him.

He was taken into the Queening Room, but he was strapped into the metal frame, rather than placed under the chair. Blaine started with the soft leather strap first, though, giving Slave his daily beating. She carried on until his buttocks were a nice pink colour, and Slave was moaning due to the pain. But there was part of him which clearly enjoyed it, as his cock was hugely erect.

Blaine did not untie Slave. Instead she strapped on a seven inch long hard rubber strap on around her waist. She walked in front of Slave so that he could see what was about to penetrate his ass. He groaned.

“Oh, don’t be a baby, Slave.” Blaine said. “This is the smallest strap-on I own. The biggest I’ve got is twice as long as this. And you will take it all, eventually, as we open up your ass. You will eventually take every inch of the biggest strap-on, and you will like it.”

Blaine began fucking Slave’s ass with her seven inch strap on. The thing about a strap-on was that it never cums, it never goes soft. You can keep on fucking the fuckee for as long as a Mistress desires.

Slave, though, did cum. He groaned and spurted white cum all over the floor beneath the metal frame.

“YOU HAVE CUM WITHOUT PERMISSION!” Blaine shouted, summoning enough fake anger to sound very angry. Secretly she was pleased that Slave had cum from having his asshole reamed out. It showed that being fucked up the ass turned him on – and it gave Mistress another excuse to punish him.

“Sorry, Mistress, I couldn’t help it.” Slave moaned.

Blaine released him from the frame.

“GET UNDER THERE AND LICK UP YOUR SCUM!” she shouted. Slave did exactly that. He got on all fours and licked up every bit of his own cum. Mistress felt he was quickly becoming very submissive, a true slave. It all boded well for the future.

When Slave had finished he stood up. The humiliation of licking up his own cum meant that his cock was hardening again.

“You have disobeyed me again, Slave.” Mistress Blaine said, coldly. “What happens to slaves who break the rules?”

“They get punished.” Slave said.

“And what part of your anatomy disobeyed me?” Mistress asked.

“My cock – I mean, your cock, Mistress.”

“So what part of the male anatomy should be punished?”

“The cock, Mistress.”

Mistress Blaine fetched a riding crop this time. It had a nasty little leather tassel at the end. She swished it through the air, making Slave jump. But it did not affect Slave’s arousal. His cock was now rock hard again, as though welcoming punishment.

“As half a dozen did not impress on you the need not to cum without permission, I think that we will try a dozen this time.” Mistress Blaine said, giving another practice swing through the air. “You are to present your cock level, for punishment. You may hold the base of your cock for this. You are to count out the strokes. If you do not count out a stroke it does not count. And you are to thank me afterwards.”

Slave, looking nervous, bent his hard cock a little so that it was perfectly horizontal.

Swish!

Blaine hit the cock on the shaft, near the base, not far from Slave’s fingers.

“Aaaargh! One… Thank you, Mistress.” Slave jumped in pain, but did not break his position. Nor did his cock begin to droop. Slave was clearly a masochist as well as a natural submissive.

Blaine waited, to let Slave feel the pain, and get ready for the next stroke. A deep red mark began to appear upon the whipped cock.

Swish!

Blaine hit the cock again, a little further down the shaft, not quite overlapping the first mark

“Aaaargh! Two… Thank you, Mistress.” Slave struggled to contain the pain, as another red mark appeared on the cock. He would not have believed anybody if they had told him that Blaine was holding back and not quite using her full strength.

Swish!

“Aaaargh! Three… Thank you, Mistress.” Three became four became five, all of the way up to eleven. By then Slave’s cock was striped with deep red and purple marks all of the way from Slave’s fingers, to just behind his frenum. But his big, purple glans had not yet been hit.

Slave looked very nervous, and in a great deal of pain. But his cock was still rigid – and Slave still held it level.

Blaine gave a few more practice swishes of the riding crop, making Slave jump. Then Blaine brought the end of the riding crop down with all of the strength in her arm, right on Slave’s swollen glans.

“AAAARGH!” Slave screamed, as he fell to the floor, curling up in a ball, his hands on his wounded glans.

“You didn’t count it out.” Mistress pointed out. With a great act of will Slave got to his feet, and presented his cock again, for punishment. The end of the glans was already discolouring. But it was not bleeding. It would be very sore, though, for quite some time. Slave braced himself, now fully cognisant of the agony to come.

Swish! Another full strength blow.

“AAARGH! Twelve… Thank you, Mistress.” He did not curl up into a ball. But he was clearly in agony.

Blaine was really turned on. Her sadistic impulses were growing, with each passing day, with each cruel whip stroke. She had to have Slave’s bruised cock inside her, not just because she really needed to cum, but because she knew that fucking her with this whipped cock would be exquisite pain-pleasure for Slave.

She chained him spread over the bed, and rode his cock until she came. Then she left him chained over the bed for the rest of the day, only releasing him for his meals, and to attempt to write out an improved mantra of how much he adored his cruel Mistress.

At ten o’ clock he was put in the dog cage for the night. Mistress did not yet electrify the cage. But she did introduce a six inch long buttplug to his arse, one which he would have to wear all night. She left Slave shivering in his cave, and turned out the light.

End of Part One.