A Kitten and Her Master

Megan struggled to make it to the end of the hallway while balancing the full breakfast tray. Not only had adding her captor’s desired amount of creamer brought the coffee’s level to the brim of the mug, the chain linking the leather cuffs on her ankles only allowed for about 18 inches of movement. It also would have been easier to hold the tray by the edges, but the chain binding her wrists was even shorter, forcing her to carry the whole thing palm-up in the middle. She stopped and took a few deep breaths through her nose, deciding it was better to take her time and step carefully rather than rush the process and risk spilling anything. The newly minted prisoner knew by now that just one stream of coffee over the side would result in a far worse spanking than mere tardiness.

Eventually, she made it across the carpet and onto the hardwood of the bedroom, where her “master” was sitting upright in bed in his bathrobe and expecting his meal. He briefly glanced up from his iPad, snapped his fingers and motioned toward the night stand, then resumed scrolling through his news feed. Megan shuffled over to the edge of the king-size and delicately placed the tray on the stand.

“Very good, kitten.”

She stood there quietly and stared down at the floor while he took the first few bites of scrambled eggs. The dish turned out better than expected: fluffy and well-mixed, with just the right amount of pepper on top. For a suburbanite brat, this new slave was a surprisingly good cook, and as much as he enjoyed having his own sexy chef, he had also been looking for an excuse to punish her and hoped a botched meal might give him one. Then again, her ass cheeks still showed a few red marks leftover from earlier, so perhaps another round of caning at this point would be overkill.

Master reached over to the chain that connected Megan’s collar to the leather harness buckled around her stomach and pulled her closer with a quick yank. She perked her head up immediately and waited nervously for his next command.

“Still feel that?” he asked, tickling around her panties and pinching her ass. “From our little mishap this morning?”

“Mhhmm.” Megan nodded. A large silicon ball secured into her mouth limited her options for communication to nodding, shaking her head, mumbling and pleading with her eyes. The straps were uncomfortably tight, but what was even more frustrating was the added chin strap; a four-inch piece of leather that helped guarantee she couldn’t maneuver her jaw to spit the gag out.

“Good. Maybe you’ll remember it next time you’re thinking about misbehaving.” He gave one of her welts a light smack.

She winced and nodded again, too busy fighting back tears to even try and speak.

“We’ll see. Now go tidy up the bathroom.” He ordered with another snap.

Megan obediently trotted off to clean the mess he left during his shower. Not exactly fun, but any step out of line resulted in corporal punishment, and his preferred method was forcing her to kneel and lashing her bottom with either a black cane or leather paddle. That morning had been no exception: he uncuffed her from the bed after his alarm went off and took her to the bathroom for her toilet break. While she was washing up, he fondled her breast and pinched the nipple, pushing her to growl “fuck you” and try running away. She made it one step before he caught her, of course, and thirty seconds later she was face-down with his knee digging into the small of her back and his instrument of pain raining hell on the skin of her backside. When finished, he let her lay in the fetal position, sobbing, and took his time binding and gagging her.

The man demanded to be referred to as “master” and, even more nauseating, addressed as “daddy”. Calling him anything other than a long string of curses took every bit of willpower, but it was obvious that agitating him would only make things worse. After a Friday night and full Saturday of sadistic torture, she decided to just go through the motions of this sick game, hoping it would create the illusion of docility and present an opportunity for escape once her captors let their guard down. Doing whatever he said seemed like a good place to start, so she pressed on.

Megan could bend over, but her hands couldn’t reach more than 12 inches past her torso; her “master” had ensured that when he shackled them to the harness. She was forced to squat as low as possible just to pick the towels up from the floor, and hanging them back on the towel rack proved to be a whole other burden. It was incredibly frustrating how difficult such simple tasks had become. Prior to this hellish weekend, her ability to succesfully balance a high GPA with an active social life and exercise regimen had been the envy of her classmates. Suddenly, she was hardly able to do the basic house work that her “masters” forced, with both hands and feet restrained, and beaten if anything went wrong.

On top of that, her boyfriend Austin and best friend Gabby were getting similar treatment in some other wing of the mansion. She hadn’t seen them since afternoon of the day before, when all three of them were tied up, gagged and tormented in the living room for several hours before being hauled off to separate corners of the property for further abuse. Their captors kept referring to it as “training”, though none of the unfortunate victims could have fathomed what kind of nightmarish future they were being trained for.

The thought of her friends being hurt made her want to cry, as did looking into the bathroom mirror and being reminded of her new reality as somebody’s prisoner. Bondage gear she had only seen in internet porn and a few adult boutiques was now gripping her ankles, waist, wrists and neck in the form of black, padded cuffs with silver rings that were connected by chains. Whereas the collar was clasped around her neck purely out of cruelty, the ball gag served the function of keeping her quiet. She hated both how it looked and how it felt; the way the sphere forced her cheeks to puff out was degrading, and the material was quite uncomfortable on her jaw.

Except for the thin area covered by lace panties, her lower body was naked and exposed for anyone to see, including her bare butt and the injuries it bore. She still wore her aqua-green sorority t-shirt, which spared her the discomfort of being completely topless in front of her captors and now sported an embarrassing saliva stain around the neckline. Being unable to control her drooling was another thing she hated about the gag, besides the obvious part about being unable to speak.

This visual aid strengthened her resolve to get the hell out of there no matter what it took, but in the meantime all she could do was avoid punishment. The toilet didn’t need any attention, which gave Megan some much-needed relief, but everything else did. She straightened the floor mats with her toes, awkwardly tossed one towel back onto the rack, organized all the grooming products scattered around the sink, then used another dropped towel to dab up the puddles left on the counter.

Master walked in just as she was finishing, presumably done with his breakfast. He was a fairly muscular man of about six feet, with sandy brown hair and a square face that helped him qualify as exceptionally attractive in the everyday world, though the enslaved people exposed to his true personality would have begged to differ.

“It’s nice to see you’re learning, kitten.” He said upon surveying the room. “Certainly much better behaved than you were yesterday, aren’t you?”

“Yecchh ayyee.” Her best attempt at ‘Yes, Daddy’ was rendered unintelligible by the gag, but sufficient for Master.

“Maybe it’s time for your treat.”

Megan’s stomach turned at the thought of what that could mean. The man smirked, recognizing the disgust in her expression, and nudged her to face the mirror.

“But first, there’s just more thing…” He rubbed her shoulders for a minute then, maintaining a grip on her right arm, stroked her thick black hair and tucked it behind her ears with the other hand. She stood stone still and kept her composure, as much as she hated this sudden, bizarre gesture of affection. “I thought this’d be a cute piece to go along with your new persona.”

He presented her with a hair band, only this was a custom one: pink-and-black cat ears made of felt adorned the top. She cringed and met his gaze in the reflection, as if to ask “Seriously?”

“Just try it on.” He said. “You need to keep your hair out of your face, anyway.”

He affixed it to her head gently enough, but she couldn’t get over the humiliation of it all. There is a major difference between trying out a fetish accessory to go with a sexy costume on Halloween or use in bedroom roleplay and being dressed up like an inanimate doll, and the latter simply felt violating. She loathed this whole “kitten” business anyway; not only did she have no desire to take on a cat ‘persona’ (as he put it), but the way he kept saying it was so unnerving and possessive.

“See? I’d say that really goes with the rest of your…outfit.” He paused to caress her hips and playfully rattle the chains on her harness.

Master took a moment to admire his newest, picturesque handiwork. The restraints he had picked out hugged her slim figure and complimented that pale, smooth skin very well, and would leave no chaffing. Each piece was plenty tight, but nothing severe enough to dig into the skin or cut off circulation. Though it wasn’t just good looks and tasteful bondage that made her so appealing; it was the way she struggled against it and looked at him with those beautiful green eyes that let him know she was an exceptional find.

A more impulsive man would have tossed her over one shoulder, taken her out to the bed and fucked her all morning, especially one as aroused as he was, but he knew better. Most people found it easiest to simply stun their slaves into submission right away, and that was a fine approach if you valued efficiency over pleasure. He took a more skilled, long term approach; one that takes time and requires finesse, not just brutality. To truly break a slave, you must create an incentive to submit and serve other than fear. For Megan, he knew exactly how to begin such a process: he would tease her and deny her orgasms until she craved them more than she did freedom. There would be far more additional training in the months to come, but for the time being it was best to start out simple and have some fun along the way.

“Tell me, kitten…” He began teasing her hair, twisting a strand here and there between fingers. “Was that boyfriend of yours taking good care of you? What was his name again?”

“Ooffnnin?” She spoke meekly.

“Whatever.” Master sneered. “My colleagues and I have just been calling him ‘bitch boy’, and I think that’ll stick. Anyway, Katelyn…you remember her, right?”

She shuddered and nodded. That was the one woman in the crew of slavers who broke into the house on Friday night, and she was the most outright sadistic of them all. Megan had felt the brunt of this the day before, when the evil bitch hogtied her on a couch then spent the next hour either choking her or testing tasers out on her helpless body. After that was over and Megan lay their gasping for breath and reeling from the multiple shocks, Katelyn unbuttoned her shorts and molested her in front of everybody, even teasing the idea of raping her with a strap-on. It was only when Austin’s roaring protests of “Mmmpphh” got her attention that she decided to forget about the girl and focus all her perverse energy on him.

“That’s what I thought. Not many people forget her.” Master continued, “Like I was saying, Katelyn texted me this morning about the fun she was having with bitch boy over in the game room.”

Megan let out a long whine, not wanting to believe it.

“She took all his measurements.” Master said, ignoring her plight. “I gotta say, doesn’t sound like his cock is anything to brag about. She’s putting it to good use, though.”

It was becoming damn near impossible to act calm, and that last comment of his truly jolted her. She mewled into her gag and tried jerking away from him.

“Shut up.” He grabbed the back of her collar and twisted her head rightward, forcing her to look at him. “Unless you want another spanking. Just let me know if you like that, ’cause I sure as hell do.”

Remembering her former resolution and considering his threat, she took a few deep breaths and stopped resisting his hold.

“You’d better get used to this, kitten.” He hissed. “This is your life now, and it’s going to be really painful unless you do what you’re told. Don’t believe me?”

He backhanded her across the cheek before she could answer. “The next step is to call one of my associates and tell them that you require extra discipline, and I’m guessing you don’t want that. I just thought it’d be nice for my pretty slave girl to get a glimpse of a real man.”

His free hand quickly untied the sash on his bathrobe, at which point he flung it open and turned Megan’s head slightly downward. Her eyes went wild at the sight of the monster hanging between his legs, and she gulped loudly. She had a satisfactory sex life with Austin, but he maxed out at just a few notches under six inches; this penis looked like it must reach eight or nine, and had a girth wider than her own wrists.

“Uh-uh, uhh-nuhh.” She begged, shaking her head rapidly. “Nuh, eeezzze!”

“Please?” Master tried to clarify, clearly amused by this.

Megan sniffled and nodded.

“How polite of you to ask, kitten, but no dick for you today. I think we ought to make you work for it a little more. Speaking of…”

He grabbed her right arm and placed another hand on her back shoulder, nudging her out into the master bedroom.

“I think our next…eh, ‘project’ will cheer you right up.”

She had obvious doubts about that, but was also too dejected and frightened to say anything. He marched her over to a plush ottoman at the foot of the bed and directed her to sit, which she was more than happy to do after being on her feet since sunrise. Master tossed the robe onto the floor and started changing into his preferred leisure outfit of jeans and a plain black V-neck. He dropped his duffel bag full of toys and bondage gear next to the ottoman, took out a satin blindfold and tied it over Megan’s eyes.

“You’re only wearing that for a second, kitten. All part of the surprise.” He knelt down and un-chained her fetters. “Stand up.”

She wiggled over from her relaxed position to the seat’s edge and got back on her feet. Not knowing what else to do with them, she folded her hands and kept them at waist-level in case part of this surprise was having her cuffs removed.

“Panties off. Now.”

She was prepared for the worst, mentally. Physically, she trembled as she slid the underwear down her legs and slipped them past her feet.

“Ahem.” He cleared his throat audibly. “Get your legs farther apart.”

Before she could comply on her own, he drummed against her inner thighs with a polypropylene rod, which leaves quite a sting. She squeaked in pain and spread them as far as she could while remaining balanced, hating that her vagina was even more vulnerable than before.

“Hold still, kitten, or it’ll get a lot worse.”

Megan felt another leather contraption being wrapped around her torso, though this one was lowered to her hips before being tightened. It was a snug fit, “not so bad” she thought to herself, but she had no idea there was more to come. Another flap, wider than a standard belt, was pulled down to her ass, between her legs and up against her taint before being threaded through a steel buckle right below her navel. She gasped at the cold sensation that suddenly pressed against her anus, vaginal lips and entire bikini line; not only was it shockingly intrusive, she couldn’t imagine what it was possibly for.

Master was impressed with how well she was taking this, considering it was only her third day. Most young women took about a week of training and correction before they reached this level of compliance, though the feistiness hadn’t been stamped out of this one completely. She still sassed him and fought back on occasion, which led to occasional punishments. Without that, where was the fun?

He squatted down and fished around the bag for the last toy: a pink, jelly-textured vibrator that was specifically designed for the clit and had the bonus of being remote-controlled.

“Almost done. By the way, this is the ‘treat’ I was referring to back there.”

Megan whimpered nervously and squirmed, so he cupped his right hand around her ribs to steady her and slid the rubber bulb, now warm from his touch, down her lower stomach, under the leather and onto her clit. She inhaled sharply and moaned, utterly confused. Master put the finishing touches on the apparatus; tightening both the horizontal and vertical straps an additional few centimeters. A clockwise turn of the key in the front lock, and that vibrator wasn’t going anywhere.

“There we go: your own chastity belt, kitten.” He announced while pulling her blindfold off.

“Huuhh?” Her face bore the cutest mix of bewilderment, naiveté and shame all in one expression. Her captor dragged her over to a full-body mirror by the closet and explained.

“It makes sure nobody – yourself included – gets to your pussy or ass. I know you can’t reach down there thanks to these,” he tapped her shackles, “but these aren’t gonna stay on forever. And I don’t want you playing with yourself.”

She blushed miserably and turned her head away. Did they really make these? She had heard of their use in medieval times, but even in that context they were purported to just be a myth. There wasn’t any denying it now, though: this was a locking belt, and it blocked her nether region like a steel plate.

“Not to mention, my colleagues are going to get bored of Gabby and bitch boy over there, eventually. Wouldn’t want them tearing into one of your holes, would we?

“Nuh.” She mumbled, hanging her head.

He gripped the chain at the base of her collar and pulled her face to his, snarling “Still forgetting something, kitten.”

“Nuh, ayyee.”

“Damn right.” He slapped her hard across the face. “And you’d better look at me when I’m talking to you.”

“Yecchh, ayyee.” Megan managed to choke out.

“I haven’t even gotten to the best part, kitten.” He took out a plastic knob with five blue buttons and dangled it in front of her. “This is the remote for your vibrator.”

“Mmmffff…” Megan started to whine.

“I’ll be deciding when it starts jack-hammering your little nub, and for how long. It’ll be a nice little surprise every now and then when you’re doing chores and training.”

With her stance back to normal, it was easy to re-chain the ankle cuffs and tempting to tickle and tease her inner thighs, though he resisted the urge of the latter.

“And don’t think you’ll be getting off anytime soon, kitten.” He taunted. “You don’t come until I say so, and right now I say that belt’s not coming off for a while. You’re gonna have to work for that cock.”

She couldn’t think of any response, so she just looked into his eyes in stunned silence. Her mouth would have hung open if not for the gag.

“Allow me to demonstrate.”

He pressed the ‘on’ button and heard the buzzing immediately, while Megan felt it. She shrieked and popped into a half-squat position, not knowing how else to alleviate the humiliation.

“What’s the matter, kitten?” He asked mockingly, “Too low?”

He clicked the button with a plus sign a few times to crank the intensity up, and Megan moaned louder. There was absolutely nothing she could do about it except stand there and endure, but it felt so good that part of her wanted to simply embrace the sensation. Straddling the bed post would have been heavenly, as would rubbing the front of the belt with her fingertips, but any movement without his permission was sure to result in another whipping. She clenched her thighs together as best she could, stood up straight and leaned back. This stretching helped the leather press deeper into her pussy lips and squeezed the toy even harder against her clitoris. Master got about two minutes of entertainment in before her eyes rolled back and it looked like she might be nearing a climax, at which point he dialed it down and shut it off.

“Playtime’s over for now.”

She regained control of her rapid breathing and groaned in disappointment, finally begging “Huheeezzze” while batting her eyes at him. It would be torturous to not finish after she had gotten so close, especially with her organs still burning.

“I know you want to come, kitten, but you’ll just have to learn to be more disciplined.” He placed one hand on her back and patted her stomach. “I’ll let you when you’ve earned it.”

“Yecchh, ayyee.” She mumbled. Megan would not have thought it possible for her captor to make her even more miserable than she was that morning, but this guy kept on out-doing himself.

“Atta girl. Now, I believe you have some dishes to wash.” He smacked her ass then gave an authoritative shove toward the nightstand with the finished breakfast platter. She yelped and managed to not fall over; she had grown too accustomed to the fetters to let that happen. Such familiarity with her unwanted bonds was disturbing and brought her mind back to the hope of either rescue or a chance for escape.

Megan sauntered off to the kitchen dutifully, praying that none of the other kidnappers were there already, while Master sat back on the bed and decided to browse Tumblr. He was subscribed to dozens of blogs dedicated to bondage and knew that a quick trip through his feed would present him with hundreds of ideas for the next round of punishments. Such an activity was guaranteed to arouse him, though, and he had already pledged to not penetrate Megan until she reached a certain level of desperation to complete an orgasm. One image offered a possible solution: a young woman was blindfolded, kneeling in front of her ‘dom’ with her hands zip-tied behind her back and her mouth propped open with a ring gag, unknowingly awaiting the erect member in front of her. Oral sex wouldn’t spoil his plan, he thought to himself.

It was a solution he would consider, but before he could check to see if he remembered to pack such a gag, another image caught his attention. This one of a submissive in a French maid outfit (sans the top), with nipple clamps attached to a tray of champagne glass she was holding, mercilessly weighing down her bare breasts. As much as he loved the whole girl-next-door look Megan pulled off in her casual ensemble, he couldn’t help thinking of all the different costumes that would enhance her bondage.

This would have to wait until they brought the new slaves to their main compound, as his crew hadn’t brought any equipment other than the essentials for the job, but there was plenty of fetish clothing in his own collection that he knew she would look delightful in. Just imagining that nubile brunette bound, gagged and serving him coffee while dressed as a slutty nurse or cleaning his boots in a bunny costume was enough to get him stirring again. He also considered the cat ears she was already wearing; perhaps they would go well with a basic maid outfit, especially if he had her wear a butt plug with a fuzzy tail attached to the end so it could dangle below the back of her skirt.

Then there was her blonde friend, Ms Bolton, to consider. The heiress was the entire reason they were here, though it was easy to forget with Katelyn and their hired goons, Chris and Sully, breaking her in to her new life in a distant wing of the mansion. Megan's boyfriend was over there, too, subject to the same combinations of beatings, spankings, and who knows what other torture, as the young woman, but Master spared him no mind. His thoughts were fixated on how hot Gabby would look in the bunny or nurse costume, and how fun it would be to alternate between tall, skinny, B-cup Megan and her short, thick-butted, full-cheekboned friend. Of course, that was all dependent on whether they decided to keep her as a slave, sell her off or ransom her, and he knew the latter two were more likely.

The running water from the kitchen sink could be heard faintly in the bedroom, which led Master to wonder what else might be audible. He had never checked to see what the range on that remote was, either, but realized that clicking the ‘on’ button would answer both questions. Judging by the volume of her groaning that echoed down the hall once he pressed it, the range was considerable.

Megan tried to focus on scrubbing the dishes with a sponge, but with the tiny motor reverberating against her, that was like trying to study while music blared in your ears. It was also difficult to stand, given that her legs shook considerably whenever she was stimulated this intensely. Her increased heartbeat was expected, yet made unpleasant by the collar that restricted her throat and the ball gag that forced her to exhale mostly out of her nose. Eventually she gave into the sensation, as she did before, figuring she might as well find some sort of pleasure wherever she could if her captors were so intent on depriving her of it. She gripped the side of the counter and straddled one the bottom cupboard’s metallic knobs, rubbing her leather-clamped crotch up and down. It was a gratifying 30 seconds until the vibrator stopped right as she was on the cusp of release, turning her moans into cries of frustration.

“All part of the plan.” Master chuckled to himself. He took a considerable risk by having these sessions when he couldn’t watch and monitor her, but was confident that a time length of two minutes or less was safe.

Everything was hand-washed and placed on the drying rack by noon, at which point Megan realized something. He hadn’t ordered her to come back by a certain time and was probably too occupied with his tablet to notice the sink being turned off. Plus, all his ‘associates’ were hanging out in a different side of the house, possibly leaving the front entrance unguarded. If there was going to be a time to check for an opportunity to escape, this was it.

She walked as quietly as possible through the kitchen and dining room, past the bathroom and to the steps of the foyer. Peeking carefully around the wall, she saw there was no one else in sight, nor could should hear any other footsteps or voices. Her restraints wouldn’t allow her to run or scream effectively, but she figured it was little more than 100 yards to the public road where she could wave somebody down for help, and that wouldn’t take too long to walk. She was just about to sneak over to the front door when a different one slammed behind her.

“Hey, shithead.” Katelyn snapped.

Megan gasped and turned around, then froze upon seeing who it was.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The domineering redhead walked over in long, angry strides and seized her, gripping her lower jaw and forearm.

“Mmmm…uuhhhhhh.” She garbled and pointed toward the bathroom, hoping Katelyn would believe she had simply gotten lost trying to find it.

“Yeah, okay. Why don’t we go tell your new master that?” She took the chain hanging between her breasts and dragged her back to the bedroom, making sure to pull on the slave’s neck whenever she fell behind, and continued “He spoils you, that’s for sure. No fucking way would Gabby or your little boyfriend dare try and escape, not after the night we gave them.”

Megan furrowed her eyebrows and growled a few unintelligible curses.

“Just wait til I get five minutes alone with you, bitch. You thought our little playtime yesterday was bad; you haven’t seen anything yet.”