A Kitten and Her Master

Back and forth, clockwise, back and forth, counter-clockwise, as she’d been taught. Thankfully, the smudges on the glasses were mostly fingerprints or water marks and came off easily. On to the next; back and forth, pressing her thumb down and wiping clockwise, again and again, over and over. Megan didn’t mind such monotonous and repetitive chores, at least not as much as she used to. They offered an escape from her horrid everyday life, albeit a brief one that existed in mind only.

She made sure to take her time with them, too. No point in finishing a task early when another one waited, especially since finishing them all early meant more time in the evening for whatever degradation “Daddy” had cooked up that day.

‘Chris’ was his real name, she had learned by overhearing a conversation between that evil woman Katelyn and one of the guards, Sully, who somehow bested her in terms of depravity. Chris…huh. Almost surreal to think he had a human name. A man who called himself “Master” was a caricature of a villain, but Chris could be anyone. She imagined him in some alternate universe, same face and stature, but dressed in garish clothes from TJ Maxx and living as a suburban dad, perhaps an engineer with two children. Not only was it chilling to think how evil ordinary people could seem on the surface, she couldn’t run through this scenario for long without realizing she drew much of this inspiration from her own father, at which point she would start crying.

As glad as she had been to be out of the house and surrounded by like-minded, sexually active peers when she first arrived at university, she now found herself dreadfully homesick. Who wouldn’t?  She had considered her parents strict for grounding her for sneaking out and not coming home until the next morning, drunk, which now seemed absurd in a house where one could be spanked and slapped for rolling their eyes or answering a question incorrectly.

Megan tried her best to maintain hope that she and her friends might be rescued eventually, though as time went on that seemed like a vanishingly thin possibility. Chris and his partners ran this place, “The Compound” as they called it, with impunity and had no concern for legality or morals, at least not as far as she could tell. How they operated so openly and freely was a mystery to her. Nevertheless, operate they did, with her and the other prisoners along for the ride.

Chris told her something that still resonated with her, something designed to dash all such hopes. “Think about it,” he said one afternoon, “if any slaves had escaped before, you would have heard about us, right? We would have been busted and made national news, right?”

This litmus test was indeed a distressing thought. You heard about people going missing, but Megan had never heard of them being held in a place like this. Maybe a shack in the wilderness or a makeshift prison in some weirdo’s basement, but certainly not a mansion in the middle of a vineyard filled with beautiful people. Even if someone did escape and the police never busted them, she would have at least heard urban legends about a place in California where young women and men disappeared without a trace.

Megan tried to focus on some other topic, imagining herself sunbathing in her own countryside villa as she wiped the wine glasses down. Unfortunately, she lost track of time daydreaming and couldn’t elongate her chore any further. Chris had ordered her to be finished by 11:30 and the clock on the wall read 11:27. She flipped the glasses upright, arranging them in a straight line above the charcuterie board on the dining room table, and snapped her latex gloves off. They were throwing a party, set to start in an hour, and she was tasked with preparing some of the refreshments. Other than the board with assorted crackers, cheeses and fruits, she had also made a platter of finger sandwiches and cold cuts, and had a batch of chocolate-caramel tarts still in the oven.

As she washed her hands in the kitchen sink, she wondered how she grew so accustomed to being in bondage. Small chains attached each of her thick leather cuffs to her waist harness and allowed 12 inches of reach maximum, a distance that seemed impossibly restrictive the first few times she was bound. Now, bending forward to turn a faucet on and limiting her hands to slow, controlled movements directly in front felt like second-nature. “Crazy what you can get used to in a few weeks” she thought, until she realized she didn’t know exactly how long she had been there. Had it been a few weeks, or a month? Maybe more?

However long, Megan knew one thing for sure: it was too damn long to go without an orgasm. She no longer itched from the artificial leather or shivered at the cold steel, but that wretched chastity belt was the bane of her existence. Besides the utter humiliation at having her bodily functions controlled and her bathroom breaks regulated, it made sure she couldn’t relieve herself in any way. Which may not be so bad for slaves in a more prudish environment, but in this house the reminders of pleasure were everywhere. At least once a week, her master would tease her by taping a bullet vibrator over her clit, letting buzz, and shutting it off right when she started to truly enjoy herself. These people had it down to a science. The exact amount of pleasure to give someone before denying it again; the exact amount for maximum torment.

She found herself straddling pillows at every chance, any time she got some privacy while cleaning and on mornings she was allowed to sleep in. It didn’t do much other than mildly stimulate her, but any small joy had to be savored. She had never been this horny before, at least not for this long. In her previous life, when she was between boyfriends and feeling a bit antsy, Megan could simply lubricate her fingers, pull a comfy duvet over her lap, and rub and stroke herself for the next 15 minutes or so until she climaxed. What she wouldn’t give for the opportunity to do just that…

Thanks to this torment, she had been predictably irritable for the past few nights, though she did her best to keep it under control. Constantly fidgeting, stamping her foot and whining into her gag at the slightest inconvenience, starving for some affection and pleasure. Megan did everything she could to please her master, even taking deep breaths and accepting levels of degradation she would have loudly rebelled against just a few weeks prior. Still, he denied her. She cried, not just at how frustrating it was, but at how cruel he could be despite her obedience.

Other accessories were less miserable, but still a pain. The cat ear headband holding her straight, black hair back caused uncomfortable pressure behind her ears and made her itch after so many hours.  The black-and-yellow cat tail that dangled out the back of her miniskirt came attached to an inflatable, rubber butt plug. She didn’t know how much more it could inflate, nor did she care to find out. She had already made the mistake of sitting down to take a break, which delivered an extra burst of air into the damn thing and sent her straight out of the chair.

Bondage wasn’t the only thing she had become familiar with. While Chris had the audacity to lecture her about self-control, he could hardly be described as a role model of virtue. Megan found herself on her knees whenever his sexual appetite called for it, three times a week at least, honing her blowjob skills. He fancied himself deprived because of her belt, imagine how deprived he would feel if he had to wear something similar, she often muttered to herself in anger. Her mouth wasn’t his only means of release, either. He had plenty of toys if he felt like masturbating, and made a habit of visiting his colleagues the Mistresses to see if “Princess” needed some oral practice.

Hearing her best friend referred to by such a smarmy and condescending nickname made Megan’s skin crawl. Knowing that Gabby faced the same brand of dehumanization as she did; treated like a pet, an object to be controlled and played with, stripped of all agency and spoken to like an idiot child. She choked back a sob thinking of the time she had been taken to visit the mistress' chamber and seen it all first hand. Especially upsetting was the sight of Austin dragged around on a leash, forced to crawl on his knees thanks to heavy duty cuffs binding his thighs to his calves. All he could do was squeal and squeak into his gag as his owners prodded him along with a bamboo cane, which, judging by the horrific bruises all over his lower body, had been used liberally.

In the early days, she often begged them to not hurt him. That ended once they made it clear that her fixation on her ex was considered rude to her master who worked so hard to train her, and if she kept it up, they would both be sent to “the farm”. She didn’t know what this euphemism referred to, since they were already in a remote area that may as well be a farm, but she didn’t dare press it any further. That evil woman barely older than herself, Mistress Bianca, described it as a place where bad girls and boys were shipped off to, to become “pony girls”. She couldn’t quite figure out what that term meant either, only that it sounded nightmarish.

Her redhead captor joined in, quipping “Bad girls and bad boys go in, and once they’re nice and settled in the barn, they all come out good girls. Well, the geldings are still technically boys, I guess.” Megan had no idea what they were talking about, since she had never been around horses, but judging from the sinister cackle both women shared over her last remark, she didn’t want to. She shuddered and promised to behave, and Katelyn put her promise to the test by cleave-gagging her and marching her over to the bathroom sink, where an assortment of dildos and plugs waited to be washed.

“Lysol, warm water, soap, then hydrogen peroxide. Wipe ’em down and lay ’em on that towel to dry, and I better not be able to smell anything once you’re done. No excuses, got it?”

Megan nodded and flinched as the woman waved a flogger in her face. Those rawhide tassels didn’t even need to touch her skin to make her backside clench up, and her mistress knew it.

“I keep a clean house, bitch. You’re lucky I let you in here with that stinky pussy of yours, so you better start earning your keep unless you want to go live on the farm. And make sure you really scrub this one,” she smirked and handed her a rubber dong soiled with brown and red smears. “It’s Puppy’s favorite.”

Any time she felt ashamed about her increasingly submissive behavior, all she had to do was glance around her captors’ home. A rack of switches, canes and paddles adorned the wall of every bedroom. Restraints and gags littered nearly every surface, from bookshelves to coffee tables. At least one piece of furniture per room was designed to hold unwilling occupants. However palatial the Compound appeared, the ubiquitous theme of torture and abuse reminded her that a prison is a prison no matter what. And even the toughest men in prison eventually accepted their fate, didn’t they? Perhaps there wasn’t so much shame in it after all.

From down the hall, she heard the chamber doors open and knew Chris was coming, right on schedule. He entered the room as she finished drying her hands over the sink. Megan smiled as best as she could in her current state, and as always he found her adorable, though he would have pulled her in for a hug regardless. She suppressed a groan as his muscular arms gently enveloped her. This was another form of teasing as far as she was concerned; he knew damn well how much she loved being held, and being held like that only increased the burning between her legs. He looked down and met her big green eyes, fluttering back at him, as his left thumb reassuringly rubbed her cheek.

“How’s lunch coming along?”

“Most of it’s ready, Daddy,” she gestured at the table, “but the tarts needed more time.”

“That’s fine.” He said, noticing her twiddling her fingers nervously. “Better late than never, eh Kitten?”

“Yes, Master.” She bit her lip and nodded, relieved. Aside from the orgasm denial, he had lightened up during the past few weeks and became more lenient on most other things. Recently, he had begun letting Megan have an edible to help wind down in the evening if all her chores were completed and he had nothing else for her. Sometimes he massaged her back if her muscles were tense or sore, which they often were. If he felt particularly generous that night, he would let her chill on the couch and watch Hulu for an hour or two, which was certainly a welcome treat. Still, it would take more time to get used to this slightly-more-mellow version of her master.

“Excited for the party? I know how much you must miss getting to socialize.”

“Oh yes, thank you for letting me attend.”

“Of course. I have a couple friends looking forward to meeting you.”

She grinned politely, but the tension in her expressions gave off an uncomfortable vibe. Chris wondered if he had been too rigid lately and hoped he could loosen her up a bit before the party started.

“I’ll try to make a good impression.”

“Don’t sweat it.” He patted her shoulder, “They’re a weird bunch, but I’m sure they’ll behave. That’s what the guards are for.”

Megan exhaled quietly and nodded again, responding with another “thank you”. It did help to know that she would be safe despite the company these people kept, and she appreciated him addressing her fears. With her stomach no longer in knots, the muscles of her mouth eased into a healthy smile. He unclipped her cuffs from the belt, allowing the chains to dangle at her sides. She gasped in surprise as he lifted her up, holding her with one arm around her back and another supporting her butt, right as his lips landed on hers and they kissed. Once, twice, and soon they lost count, smacking passionately until the oven timer went off.

Megan’s lips weren’t so eager to quit, and her eyes looked hungry for more. Chris merely smiled and set her down gently so she could take the desserts out of the oven and let them cool on the stove. He stepped deeper into the kitchen to pick the bottles of wine they would be serving shortly, and noticed a solitary cinnamon roll sitting on a saucer.

“Did you make this?” He asked.

“Yes, I had some leftover ingredients this morning. I…I made it for you, sir.” She felt pathetic sucking up to him this brazenly, but reminded herself what her pride had earned her so far: nothing.

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” He took half the roll off in one bite. “C’mon, have the rest.”

Megan didn’t need to be told twice. Her strict, newfound diet consisted mostly of lean meats, vegetables, and complex carbs; dessert or any kind of junk food was a rare indulgence. She gobbled up the buttery bread and warm, gooey icing, taking as much time as she could to chew and savor it, and happily obliged her master when he held up his messy hand to her face. Being the good kitten she was, she licked it free of the sticky icing that had drizzled down off the roll, and took his index and middle fingers into her mouth, sucking them clean. She smacked her tongue loudly and looked up at him with those big, pretty eyes as she did so.

Chris helped her unstrap her harness, eliciting a happy sigh, and bent down to kiss her forehead. “Let’s find you something more comfortable to wear out there.”

After removing her plug in the bathroom and washing up, Megan sat at her well-stocked vanity table and happily plucked her headband off. She brushed her hair back and collected it into a loose, bouncy ponytail while Chris laid some items out on the bed. As she touched up her mascara and lip gloss, she eyed the bed in the mirror with envy. With all its plush layers and pillows, it looked like an absolute dream compared to the stiff Wayfair sofa she had been “gifted”. Which, to be fair, was an upgrade over the plain, thin pad rolled out on the floor she slept on for the first week or two.

The new outfit proved a welcome change: floral-print board shorts instead of a leather skirt, flip flops over stiff ankle boots, and a low-scoop white tee that seemed appropriate for the warm weather, thin and flowing. Her wrist cuffs and matching black leather collar were her only remaining restraints, an unusual amount of freedom for her. She quickly slipped into the shirt, after which he handed her a key and prompted a confused look.

“This is…the key to my belt, right?”

“Indeed. Why don’t you take it off before you put your shorts on, and don’t bother wearing any panties.”

Chris enjoyed watching her state of shock slowly morph into a look of excitement. Megan had never been given the key or allowed to remove it herself, and she half-expected him to say “just kidding” as she slowly pulled her skirt down. When he didn’t, she happily let the belt fall to the floor and sighed in delight at the release of pressure. She tossed her underwear into the nearby hamper, stepped into the shorts and tied the drawstring on them, relishing in the cotton’s cool tickle against her skin.

“Alright, I…guess I’m ready, Master.” Her heart buzzed.

“Shall we?” He took her by the arm and led her out the sliding glass door to the pool area.

“You don’t want me to bring the food?”

“Nah, we’ll get one of the other servants to do it. You’re attending as my guest.”

“Really?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise. This is your time to relax.” His hand planted firmly on her lower back and guided her forward. Her heart beat even faster as she followed him outside and wondered what kind of attention she might receive next.

* * * * *

Katelyn paused while buttoning her blouse and reconsidered. The thermometer outside already read 82 and the forecast predicted a high of 86, so closing it all the way to the top seemed impractical, not to mention stuffy. Better to stop right above her bra and let herself breathe, she decided.

“Okay,” she strode over to Austin and pulled his blindfold off, “how about this?”

“That looks great on you, mistress.” He remained standing by the mirror with his hands cuffed behind his back, stone still except for his eyes, which followed the tempting figure in front of him.

She took one step left and checked herself out in the mirror, twisting her body left and right to examine how this outfit would look from different angles. She had promised herself to wear the white lace skirt at some point this summer, but didn’t care for the color scheme it created with the creamy, beige blouse.

“Eh, I dunno…I like the skirt itself, but not with this top.”

She knew having a slave help pick an outfit was useless; obviously he would always compliment her and this kind of situation called for an honest friend. Regardless, she got a kick out of teasing him and this was just another of several activities that served as a good excuse. It seemed merciful, actually, considering the other things he could be doing.

Normally, being blindfolded also meant being strapped to a chair, gagged and forced to wear noise-canceling headphones for torturous amounts of time. Whether they kept him trapped in silence or forced him to listen to their “introductory” audiobook, the effects were the same. Sensory deprivation sessions always turned Austin into a whimpering, skittish mess who jumped at the slightest touch and sat there crying, apologizing for whatever he did. Most importantly, they made him a little more submissive each time. Everyone pictured a whip and paddle as a mistress’s main tools, but true power came from the punishments that don’t leave a mark.

One of the first things she taught a young Bianca was “Plenty of women are capable of spanking someone and berating them; that doesn’t make you special. Conditioning them mentally and emotionally is the real art.”

“So…brainwash them to think they actually want to be your slave?”

“Not quite. The goal is to make them think they should be your slave. They don’t have to like it; they just have to believe it’s what they deserve.”

Based on the cute, emasculated servant standing obediently behind her, the results spoke for themselves. Katelyn slipped the velvet mask over his eyes again and returned to her massive, walk-in closet to scan her collection once more. Perhaps keep the skirt and change the top instead? She considered pairing it with a black mesh tank, but realized that would come off as too casual versus what she wanted to convey. An array of rich, powerful acquaintances from the criminal underworld would be attending their party, and as the senior mistress of the Compound, she needed to present herself as mature and dignified.

Ever since the legendary Mistress Alicia retired and moved to Italy, Katelyn had worked hard to fill her role. She knew the majority of their peers didn’t agree with her methods. As much as she told herself she didn’t care what others thought about her eschewing the traditions of slave-training, events such as this one forced her to admit otherwise. Her school of submission wasn’t just legitimate, it reigned supreme, its results spoke for themselves, and she aimed to rub everyone’s face in it. There was that competitive streak coming out; varsity volleyball all over again!

Senior…the term brought great pride. Some women might welcome the authority and wisdom it denoted while secretly feeling self-conscious about its implications of age, but Katelyn bore no delusion that 32 constituted ‘old’. Her days of recklessness and all-nighters were well behind her, and she accepted this, looking instead to the future. The years flew by no matter what, so she figured if the future was coming anyway, she might as well make it one where she commanded respect and enjoyed herself.

In the middle of her pondering, she spotted a draped leather skirt she hadn’t worn in almost a year and snatched it off the hanger. How didn’t she think of it sooner? It felt cool against her skin and hugged her figure, ending just above the knee.

“Surprise.” She pulled his blindfold up to his forehead and twisted left and right a few times, letting the hem of the skirt flow and sway about. Austin inhaled sharply as he checked her figure out. The fabric fit her perfectly, showcasing the body she spent so many hours of exercise working to achieve.

“You look beautiful in that, mistress.”

“Very flattering, puppy.” She cooed, “But you always think I look beautiful, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, mistress.”

Katelyn tilted her eyes downward and grinned at the sight of his strangled cock pulsating against the walls of its cage. The outfit was a success!

“You know you’re never gettin’ any of this, right?” She gestured at her whole body, up and down.

“Yes, mistress.” He blushed miserably.

“You didn’t actually think you were, did you”

“No, mistress.”

“Good,” she giggled, “because I have this little thing called standards, and speaking of little things…” she slid the tip of her riding crop between his swollen balls and chastity cage, “this ain’t cuttin’ it.”

He cringed but remained silent, bracing himself for a sudden smack from the leather square. Instead she flapped it up and down, giggling at the jig his wimpy genitals performed for her.

“Bet you’re sick of being locked up, huh?”

He nodded.

“Silly slave boy…” she sighed. “Probably should’ve appreciated your ex-girlfriend while you still had her, huh? Something tells me you weren’t making her come with your tiny dick. Never went down on her, did you?”

He opened his mouth to apologize until a hard slap across the face silenced him.

“Bad boy.” She snarled through gritted teeth. “Kitten may be a brat, but that’s fucked up.”

“I…I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“How long were you together? Six months, right? Maybe I’ll keep your cage on for another five so you can see how it feels.”

He gulped audibly and barely contained himself from blurting out a plea before taking a deep breath and composing himself. The past month had taught him, that hard way, that there was no point in arguing with her decisions or demands, no matter how hellish. If she decided to keep him in chastity forever, he could either accept it and hoped she changed her mind later, or voice his complaints and be beaten into a pathetic, sobbing mess, on top of being kept in chastity forever.

“If you think that’s best, Mistress. I trust you.” He said, struggling to hold back tears.

She stared at him with her nose wrinkled in disgust, thinking of all the girls he must have sweet-talked into letting him flop around on top of them for five minutes. How disappointed they must have been when he finished before they could have any fun! His good looks and easy-going personality undoubtedly got him laid in his previous life, but being a prolific lover didn’t necessarily make you a good one, did it? Quality over quantity, Katelyn always said when it came to sex. He had claimed to ‘totally’ know where the clitoris is, though his first attempt at servicing her orally told a different story.

As the seconds passed and he could do nothing but stand there looking dumb, she viewed him as pathetic more than anything else. She reminded herself that he was still quite young; plenty of guys his age had to be taught to not be selfish in bed, and teaching him these things was part of her job. Austin was not too bright; in fact she often wondered what kind of learning disability he must have. Nevertheless, with consistent discipline and guidance, he had gone from “barely tolerable” to “competent slave” in just over a month. Perhaps in another month or two he would be her greatest success story.

“I’m not really going to.” She said with a sharp jab to his shoulder. “You’ve been making up for it lately, haven’t you?”

“I’ve been trying…”

“That’s right, and you’re a lot better than when you started. You love all that extra bonding time eating my pussy, don’t you?” Her lips curled into a sadistic smile.

“Yes, mistress.”

Such a delightful process. The first time she politely ordered him to get on his knees, Austin actually thought he could refuse, and soon learned that the alternative to ‘polite’ involved hanging from his wrists for four hours and having his ass whipped. It took days for his bruised flesh to heal, especially the spots where Bianca’s chopstick-thin birch switch broke the skin. His next chance came after his benevolent mistress took his backdoor virginity. Katelyn fitted him with a rubber ring gag, let him have some water and viola, he dutifully crawled between her legs and licked away. Not exactly a performance worth moaning over, but satisfactory by ‘first time’ standards and most importantly, it marked a milestone in his submissiveness. As a reward, she allowed him a generous dose of Percocet to help with the throbbing pain inflicted by her strap-on.

Since then, the lessons alternated; pegging one night, eating pussy the next.  Katelyn took charge of most lessons, since she relished any and every opportunity to remind him of his place, with her partner filling in whenever she felt bored. Austin feared them both. His primary owner fulfilled the stereotype of a passionately angry redhead, but at least her expressive face and changing tones helped you guess what kind of mood she was in. Bianca on the other hand, showed minimal emotion whether she was spanking him or peacefully getting ready for bed. While she had her own moments of tenderness, her near-chronically flat voice gave the impression that she found hurting people as banal as anything else.

“Your attitude is so much better. I’d say we have you acting…mostly like a gentleman these days. But now that we covered the basics, we’re gonna focus on some finer details.”

“Uhh…okay, Mistress.” Austin did his best to appear confident, though his tone made his confusion evident.

“What I mean is, you already know what I expect you to do day-to-day, hmm? I shouldn’t have to remind you of every single little thing. From now on, you’ll get your chore list for the day, and it’s up to you to manage your time and get everything done. Got it?”

“I think so…”

“Good. It’ll help me feel a lot more appreciated if you do nice little gestures here and there, ‘ya know, without being asked. Try being more considerate of your owners who work so hard.”

“Yes, Mistress, of course…”

“Awesome; next thing: I want to start helping you…how should I say this, develop some empathy for the women in your life.”

Austin found this surprising, as empathy was hardly this woman’s strong suit, but went along with it nonetheless.

“You neglected your girlfriend, didn’t you? Tsk tsk tsk, only thinking about yourself. And you whine about being caged, but you’re the only guy who lives in this wing of the house. Bianca doesn’t want to have to worry about you raping her. Or Princess. I know how horny you get.”

“Oh…” he cast his head down slightly, “Yes, Mistress.”

“You’re not very considerate when I’m on my period, either.” She continued, recalling an incident from the week prior, “You know it’s very rude to ask me dumb questions and give me a headache when I’m already dealing with cramps, puppy.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress, I’ll try to do better with that.” He felt a bit relieved, since being addressed as ‘puppy’ typically signaled an ease in her attitude.

“I’m sure you will.” She stepped behind him and un-hooked his wrist cuffs. “You’re definitely not as much a ’lil douchebag as you were before. I’m open to letting you out of your cage and having some fun, eventually, but you’re gonna have to earn it from now on. Your days getting what you want just by looking cute are over, got it?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“And you can start 'doing better' today.” She stepped in front of him again and placed a firm hand on his upper arm while staring him down. “You and Princess are going to walk around offering drinks and snacks for our guests, and making more when you run out. Any questions?”

“Am I supposed to ask them if they want anything?...”

“No, just offer what you have on the platter and respond politely if they say anything. Don’t worry; they’re not gonna expect you to be their slave. They know we have a pretty strict ‘look don’t touch’ policy.”

“Oh. Yes, mistress.”

Katelyn held a black ball gag with the straps fully extended up to his face. “Normally I would gag you, but it’s gonna be hot today and it might be harder to breathe with this in, with you running around and all. Since you’ve been pretty good lately, I’m gonna trust you not to embarrass me.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“So let’s keep this around your neck, okay? It can stay there if you’re good, and if you’re naughty, we can strap it in nice ’n tight real quick.”

He felt for the first hole and buckled it loose behind his neck, letting it hang underneath his collar. It had been buckled for him earlier and locked into place with a tiny padlock, and while he appreciated them no longer cinching it as tight as the first ones he had been forced to wear, the rhinestones spelling “BOY TOY” on the front made it just as humiliating.

“We’re putting a lot of trust in you by letting you go out there ungagged and with no chains or anything.” She kept her hand on his arm but began rubbing it back and forth. “I hope you’re not gonna do anything stupid. Promise me you won’t?”

“Yes, Mistress, I promise. I wouldn’t want to betray your trust.” His reasoning may have been a lie, but the statement was as sincere as possible. It had been made abundantly clear there was no escape from this place and that any attempt wouldn’t be worth it; the consequences would either be fatal or too horrific for him to want to live through. Right from day one, he realized that even if he managed to somehow flee on foot, Gabby and Megan would still be left behind. He couldn’t bear to do that, but there was no way of getting all three of them out at once. Megan was kept in a separate wing of the compound he had never entered before, and Gabby spent half the time alone with either Bianca or Katelyn. That didn’t even account for the burly armed guards who monitored every exit and patrolled the property’s perimeter, or the fact that slaves weren’t allowed to so much as look at each other without permission, let alone have conversations.

“Not that you could…” She wiggled a remote control in his face. “Not with those bad boys on.”

He nervously sucked in air and shook his head emphatically. “No, Mistress.”

The miniature, unassuming black box had a dial with buttons that could activate the shock lining of his collar at any time. They had never demonstrated that feature while he wore it on his neck, though the first night he was introduced to it, Katelyn wrapped it loose around his forearm and showed him what being zapped at 5 out of 10 felt like. It resulted in a painful spasm and a high-pitched yelp. Of course, the heavy-duty electrodes taped to his inner and outer thigh on each leg were the real security measure, and those had indeed been tested. If they ever needed to stop him from running or using his legs at all, cranking the dial up and pressing the red button sent an excruciating jolt of electricity through his legs that caused all the muscles to seize up and him to instantly collapse on the ground, twitching in agony.

In the early days he had often cried when thinking of how hopeless the whole situation was, and how much he missed Megan, how much he hated himself for being too weak to help her. As the weeks went on and trauma mixed with monotony, his mental state numbed and he became less emotional, more apathetic. His mistress’s warming attitudes had helped change that, as well as his resolve to make the most of his new life.

“I’m just trying to make sure you behave yourself.”

“Yes, Mistress, I will.”

“Mhhmm, that’s what I thought. And I know it might be kinda awkward, but Master is going to be there with your ex. I hope I can trust you to be mature and respectful, right?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. Key word is ‘ex’. And why is that?”

“Because slave boys don’t have girlfriends.”

“Correct, and why is that?”

“Because they have a goddess instead…” His voice trailed off with a slight inflection, hoping he worded his answer correctly.

“Mhhmm, and who’s your goddess?”

“You are, Mistress.”

“Damn right.” She beamed with pride and promptly steered him over to the closet where his outfit waited.

“Okay, first things first…” Katelyn stretched out a pair of black lace panties in front of him and soon lost her patience. “Let’s go, step into ’em.”

Austin cringed as he complied and the panties were fit tight against his hips. The double-padded, elastic material at the bottom helped to mash down his bulge.

“Perfect.” She mused, “Black lace means you’re a slut. I don’t want our guests thinking you’re too innocent. ’Ya know, you’re gonna meet some other mistresses at the party, friends of mine. Maybe one of them will rent you out for the night.”

“Rent me, mistress?”

“As in, she’ll pay me and you’ll stay with her for the night, and you’ll be a good boy and do what she says ’til I pick you up the next morning. Remember what I said, a ‘Mistress’ is a unique role. It means an authority figure, a trainer, a sexual mentor, and sometimes a pimp.”

Austin nodded, stifling an obvious look of terror.

“Which makes you my ’lil ho.” She squeezed his butt and burst out laughing.

She checked her phone and frowned when she saw the time: half past noon, right when the first guests were supposed to arrive. He donned the clothing laid out on the bench for him, khaki shorts and a white polo, and stood still and attentive with his hands folded in front upon seeing her snatch her riding crop off the floor. His black leather collar, matching wrist and ankle cuffs looked minimalist compared to the more intricate restraints he normally wore, yet she felt confident those were all he needed to remember his place.

“Let's go over how you greet the guests real quick.” Katelyn handed him an empty silver tray. “Okay, let's say I'm an older mistress."

Austin daintily offered up the tray and spoke softly: "How do you do, ma'am?"

"Good, now show me how you would greet a master."

"At your service, sir." He bowed slightly.

"Very good. If it's a younger woman, just speak to them like you would to me, okay?"

Austin nodded, "Yes, mistress."

She spun him around to face the mirror with her again. The outfit wouldn’t have been his first choice, but it was less embarrassing than just about everything else he had been forced to wear at the Compound, and he knew better than to voice his actual opinions anymore.

“Mmm, such a sweetie pie; can’t wait to show you off.” She stroked her crop’s leather flap up and down his legs, rested her chin on his shoulder and hissed directly into his ear. “My friends are gonna be so jealous.”

He cracked a nervous smile as she gently ran her free hand up and down his back. Between her sexy voice, her sweet-smelling body lotions and her red hair brushing like silk against his skin, he couldn’t help getting turned on. Even when she snapped a carabiner onto his collar’s ring, gave his ass a hard whack with the rod and led him outside on a leash, his cock swelled inside its plastic prison. Why did she have to be so hateable and so sexy?

* * * * *

The pergola’s shade kept the loungers underneath considerably cooler than the space around it. Spending some time in the sun sounded great, until Megan realized her past month spent mostly indoors had rendered her pale as a ghost and felt herself burning up within an hour. Luckily, one of the guests kept a bottle of suntan oil in her purse.

“Thank you, Mistress.” She gushed, squirting a handful of the lotion out and rubbing it into her arms and neck.

The woman said nothing in reply, just smiled politely and turned to her own slave. “Watch my stuff.”

Chris’s acquaintances were certainly an interesting bunch. A stern, middle-aged woman in a lavender pantsuit, a vapid tech millionaire, an erudite 60-year-old with a folksy accent she couldn’t quite pinpoint, and an obnoxious Italian socialite were merely a few of the characters she encountered so far. Some of them brought their own subs as their plus-one, such as the young women ordered to wait while her mistress fetched a drink from the bar. She wore an interesting blend of white satin with lace trimmings and red velvet, and introduced herself as Charlotte.

“I love your dress.”

“Oh, thank you. I just finished it last night.”

“You made it yourself?”

“Yeah, I’m the seamstress at my estate. Miss Snow’s taste is kinda old fashioned, but she lets me experiment a lot in my workshop.”

“That’s so cool.”

Megan caught herself admiring the other girl’s body as much as the fabric covering it. She had wavy, shoulder length hair dyed scarlet-red and appeared the same age as her, maybe a bit older. They continued chatting and Charlotte, shocked to learn Megan had only been there for little more than a month, had plenty of advice to share as a full-time submissive of three years. She assured her it got better over time and told her about some of the perks she could look forward to, even floating the idea of showing her around the Snow estate if she ever visited and teaching her to sew.

Having a friendly peer to talk to helped her decompress. At the same time, Charlotte’s pretty face and gentle tone titillated another part of Megan’s brain. She was horny to the point of embarrassment but couldn’t help her imagination from drifting into naughty territory when the other girl, the first person to speak to her like a normal human being in what felt like forever, mentioned things they might be able to do together.

“We’re not too far away. If he ever complains about you not doing enough, tell him about my offer.”

“Good idea. Speak of the devil…”

Chris arrived, now wearing nothing but black swim trunks and carrying two tall glasses of iced tea. Charlotte winked at her and returned to her magazine, though Megan noticed she kept one eye in the corner to ogle the man’s body. She had done something similar many times before; never wanting to admit that the brute dominating her life had a picturesque physique, never being able to deny how it caught her lustful eye. Might as well indulge herself, she figured, since he sat back on the lounger and opened his legs invitingly.

She scooted into his lap and leaned back into him, resting her head right under his chin. A cool breeze passed through and blew gently on her skin as she sighed and relaxed her body. She had never appreciated the simple pleasures of fresh air and sunshine like she did after being deprived of them for weeks on end. Being able to sit there peacefully and not stress about what happened next felt like its own blessing, with the muscular arm holding her by the waist as a nice bonus. They sat there silently for another 15 minutes or so, enjoying nothing but each other and the occasional wind.

Outside the pool area, the Compound’s other slaves tread carefully in between groups of guests and minded their manners. Platters full of craft cocktails and hors d'oeuvres quickly emptied at the hands of guests who kept their hands to themselves, but still managed to let their intentions be known. Austin couldn’t take one step without a new set of possessive eyes scanning him up and down, or clear one table of dishes without the occupants telling him how sexy he would look bound and gagged in their own dungeon, while all he could do is avoid eye contact and play along.

Princess, the former aristocrat known as Miss Bolton, received the most attention as she shuffled about nervously. Hilariously inept at serving others, her constant fumbles and mix-ups led to jeers from the guests and pretend spankings from Bianca, usually a single slap to her big butt. She didn’t mind the outfit, khaki shorts and a white square neck top with cleavage to spare, so much as how vulgar and mean-spirited everyone seemed to be. Would it kill them to say they liked how she styled her hair instead of making the same ‘dumb blonde’ jokes? Couldn’t they just call her pretty instead of licking their lips and leering at every part of her body except her face? Even her mistress, normally committed to insults, had remarked how beautiful she looked once her hair and makeup were complete.

Before having her wardrobe dictated, she tended to avoid wearing anything too tight or revealing. No matter how often other women complimented her plump dimples or envied her bouncy C-cups, her chronic love handles and thick thighs always left her self-conscious about her weight. Not so anymore. Katelyn’s slave training regimen took her from chubby to curvy, and her new clothes showcased all that hard work. Both women agreed they didn’t mind her being “a ’lil soft around the edges” (their description of 5’4” and 140 pounds), as long as she remained fit and flexible.

The conditions of Princess’s captivity improved over time, but almost inversely, her hope diminished with every passing day. Why hadn’t her father paid the ransom yet? It had been so long, including ‘yet’ in that question was starting to seem absurd. She had never been close with her tycoon father, she knew she had daddy issues, that didn’t mean he would abandon her…did it? He had funded far more extravagant and unnecessary things than saving his daughter’s life, and on shorter notice than five weeks! Her captors had been discussing making her earn her keep by “entertaining” their friends and clients, as if she hadn’t been violated enough already.

“Hey, slut.” Bianca tapped her shoulder, “Take these up to the table on the top deck.”

“Yes, Mistress.” She picked two ice buckets full of Stella Artois cider off the bar floor and carried them away, trying her best to appear perky, something easier said than done. At least her friend seemed to be enjoying herself.

Megan hummed contently while Chris nuzzled her neck and kissed her. His lips slid up to her cheek, then her ear. She rubbed his arm and squirmed inside its grasp as his free hand rubbed her lower stomach, another erogenous zone of hers. More rubbing turned into more squirming, which turned into play-wrestling on the lounger. She giggled and trashed about as her hormones screamed louder and louder, until she couldn’t take it anymore, and her giggles became an angry groan.

“Alright, alright.” He stopped the tickling and kissed her on the cheek, sensing her frustration. “You sound like you’re gonna burst.”

“It’s just…” She struggled to phrase her complaints without breaking any of the million rules she had been indoctrinated into, “I feel like no matter how good I do, you keep stringing me along.”

“Look, I’m sorry. Guess I just got carried away.” His gravelly voice suddenly had an apologetic tone, the first she ever heard. “You’ve been doing good lately, and I’m proud of you.”

“Really?” She sighed, still sounding doubtful.

“I brought you out here to show you off, didn’t I?”

“Hmmm, true.” She leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

“Do you really think you earned your release this time, Kitten?”

“Mmhhhmmm, yes, Master.”

“Do you really want it?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Then show me how a good kitten asks.”

Megan wriggled away from his teasing arm and planted herself on all fours on the ground. Shaking her head at the ridiculousness about to follow, she crawled backwards until her butt bumped into his shin and slid up and down, scratching her crotch against his leg. Exaggerated whining soon followed, over and over, as dramatically as her throat could manage. Her face flushed red as a nearby table of men playing cards took note of this and laughed, and still she grinded away. Was this not convincing enough? Her desperation grew along with the friction and heat inside her shorts, and her cries intensified.

“Nnnnnyyyeeerrrhhh! Wwhhaaaa…” She brayed.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Chris chuckled, finally satisfied.

He tugged on her collar until she sat up, and signaled one of his friends to toss him a spare gag they had lying around. Members of the nearby poker game watched in anticipation as he carried her over to the hot tub and gently lowered her in.

Megan moaned softly at the luxury of warm water enveloping her. In the last month she had only taken showers, never a hot bath. He sat next to her on the steps and rubbed her back. “Ssshhh, breathe in and relax. You’re really tight back here, huh?”

“Mmmm…kind of, sir.”

Combined with the heat and feeling of weightlessness, Chris’s powerful hand pressing into her knots allowed her body to tingle and loosen up. She ran her hands over his body in turn, exploring all the different grooves and bulges his muscular frame was composed of. After a few minutes, he couldn’t wait any longer than she could. He hooked his hands under her armpits and lifted her up excitedly, spun her around and reached around to untie her board shorts and tug them down her legs.

Megan whimpered and bit her lower lip as he nudged her to lean forward, and rested with her forearms against the ledge. He clipped her wrist cuffs together and popped the gag into her mouth. Unlike the usual fare, this rubber ball came with a rectangular leather panel that covered her lips completely. The straps tightened around her head, the hot tub jets came on, and Chris yanked his own shorts down to let his massive erection pop out. He guided it carefully, grazing the tip against her lips back and forth.

“Mmpphh…NNUUGGHH!” Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull when his tip slid inside. He plunged deeper, slow yet potent.

“BBRRRGGHH!” Megan moaned into her gag as he filled her. It hurt a bit at first, but any pain was immediately overridden by waves of pleasure. He held her by the hips and made sure to not bottom out on her, carefully stopping before he went balls-deep.

She propped herself up on her elbows and wiggled her knees closer to the jet to position her clit in front of the smooth stream of bubbles, sending her further into ecstasy. Several onlookers turned to watch the spectacle, since they had to listen to it anyway. Dominants and submissives alike delighted in the view; a young, stubborn fairy being shafted by a beast, confessing her love of cock through a series of squeals.

Chris alternated his movements between slow and fast, gentle and savage. She shook too hard to even notice how hard her elbows kept scraping against the concrete, and once his hand drifted down and rubbed her lower stomach again, neither of them could last much longer. Her throat gasped and her stomach heaved with every thrust, and the frequency only rose when his fingers joined the jet stream and massaged her sweet spot. She wished it could last forever, but it took no more than a few more minutes for her toes to curl and her eyes to roll back as she finally climaxed.

“HHHRRRMMMGGGHH!” Drool gushed out of Megan’s gag. She shook her head furiously and thrust her own pelvis downward, determined to impale herself on that thing. He soon felt a familiar spasm himself.

One hand grabbed hold of her shoulder right before he came; the other grabbed a handful or her hair and tugged it firmly. He shuddered and wheezed, pulled out slowly, caught his breath and sat back down on the step. She collapsed into his lap and rested her head on his shoulder while he untied her gag and un-clipped her cuffs. Multiple eyes were upon them, and she didn’t care. She had just earned the best orgasm of her life by being a good kitten to her master, and it felt great.