The Seduction And Enslavement Of Young, Innocent Eric

The Seduction and Enslavement of Young, Innocent Eric

I knew what I was thinking was wrong. But still, I couldn’t talk myself out of it, not with the sexual excitement that I felt when I thought about it. Marion, my office assistant of nearly five years had just died prematurely from cancer. She had been a single, overprotective mother of a shy 16-year boy named Eric. They had had no other relatives.  The father, if he was even known, was long gone and never heard from. When she had been diagnosed, Marion asked me if she would become Eric's guardian in the event she did not recover. I agreed. None of what I am thinking about occurred to me then, when I said yes, so I am not sure why I did. I guess you don't say no to that kind of request when someone has just been given the worst news of their life. But I had agreed.

The Idea

I am Helen and I am 35 years old. I am rising in my profession in the business world, but I never married, never really met a man I was interested in marrying. I am career-driven and consequently do not have much of a social life. I have a few close friends of like-minded women, but we'll come to them in time. But now I had Eric. He was my responsibility—and my opportunity. I gradually decided that I did not want to raise a teenager. What I really wanted was to utterly control him, to subjugate him, to make him into my slave—to everything and anything I wanted. The fact that Eric was a young male—malleable, manipulable, virginal as it turns out—seemed to make the idea doubly appealing. 

The more I thought about it, the more and more I wanted it. When I looked at him, I didn’t feel love or even a sense of protectiveness. I mean, how could I?  I barely knew him.  What I saw was more akin to…prey.  Ironically, becoming responsible for Eric is what gave me the idea: his unique isolation and dependency on me. Why not make it complete? Why shouldn't I have someone who is totally devoted to me, satisfying all of my sexual and domestic needs?  I mean, I’m not a wallflower. I am aware that there are couples in this world who live lives like this, where one member of a couple willingly enslaves themself to the other.  The more I thought about it, the more I rationalized that in doing this, in making Eric my slave, he would lead a very useful and productive life—for me.

I realized that to do this right I would have to start slowly, but also quickly enough to take advantage of his emotional vulnerability. I wanted no trouble from any outside authorities, whether that was the school, police or the boy's friends. Turns out, he really didn't have any of the latter, his shyness having been an obstacle to them. But that very same shyness would be a valuable tool for me. 

I suppose I should backtrack for just a moment.  Eric had moved into my house about a week before Marion died, and it was when he was first there, those first few days, that my thoughts about this occurred to me and took shape. It had started simply by the fact that I encouraged him to help out in the house and keep it clean, which being the polite one that he was, he agreed readily. As I watched him work, I thought: I need someone to do this all the time.  And it helped that he seemed eager to please, but that is probably not unusual for someone in his position. 

He was also cute and decent-looking. His butt in particular, I noted with satisfaction was tight and rounded. He was also deliciously thin—lithe!  With apparently very little body hair, which I hated on men.  It was my staring at his butt while he worked is what made me see him as my prey—prey to be captured, subjugated, and enslaved.  I first thought how I’d love to spank that butt—and then my mind wandered further and further on the subject.  

Still, few would think of him as a stud. Just was well, I thought, those types are always so full of themselves. He was short:  5’5” and 130 pounds when he was wet, whereas I was 6'2" and a voluptuous 185. I towered over him in my bare feet and even more so in my 4” heels—and I outweighed him by over 50 pounds.  Our physical differences made it clear to me that I was far stronger and I would have no trouble enforcing whatever physical discipline that I deemed necessary—or desirable.  Yet, as I thought about those physical differences more, I realized that they would also prove to be fun. I am very fit and pretty good looking myself. One man, whom I had dated very briefly, called me sultry. In the beginning though, my height and size advantage simply reinforced my authority.

The Plan

The key strategy to Eric's seduction—it had to start with seduction—and eventual enslavement, I soon realized, was going to be his total isolation from other people, reinforcing his dependence on me for everything, combined with careful sexual provocation on my part. I know how teenage boys think. Most of their idle thoughts are about sex, and here I was quite sure Eric was no different. When we had originally packed up his things from his mother's apartment, I had offered to carry a carefully tied stack of magazines he was saving, but he quickly refused and stuffed them in a box he carried

I was counting on the boy's genetically inspired lust to carry him a good part of the way to me. I first needed to severely restrict any outlets for that lust, until I was the only one he had. The first step was to restrict the TV. Easy enough. The only one was in my room, behind a locked center. The other was school. I needed to get Eric away from those nubile young girls, not because he was dating them—he wasn't—but when he masturbated at night (as all boys do, as I knew he was doing), I didn't want images of Bambi the cheerleader tart in his head. I wanted images of me. So I told Eric that he would be privately schooled at my home by a tutor. The school guidance counselor agreed that this might be beneficial for him, one-on-one education. I couldn't have agreed more!

The selection of a tutor, because the school would check up initially, was important. I rejected out of hand a number of relatively young, fresh out of college education majors. They wouldn't do at all. I rejected all men, of course. The last thing I wanted was some male role model for the boy. Finally, I settled on Mrs. Fitzpatrick, a 60-year, very heavy-set retired teacher with thick glasses and a smoker's cough. Perfect.

We settled into a routine for a few weeks. I would go to work. Eric would be tutored at home. In the evenings, we made dinner together. Then I started making some subtle changes. My evening casual wear became, slowly, more provocative. I had hidden cameras installed in Eric's room. I needed to know what he did and when he did it. I also made sure that the house was always quite warm, but his room was the warmest. I figured that would increase my chances of seeing what I wanted to see when he was in there alone.

I began to discover Eric's habits. After our dinners, during which I wore subtlety revealing outfits, Eric would go to his room for 15 minutes or so and masturbate. Then he would come out and we would do normal things in the evening. After spending more time with me, when he went to bed, he would pleasure himself again before falling asleep. Once I had this figured out, I could take the first crucial step.

I came home one night as usual. I changed. I was wearing tight black cotton running shorts and a tight black tee-shirt, absent my bra. God blessed me with large round breasts and the tight tee-shirt made them protrude provocatively, if not dominantly.  My long, athletic legs were bare and the boy was increasingly looking at me when we were together. I wasn't a magazine or a television screen.  I was the real thing, I was feeding his raging hormones by constantly finding excuses to brush up against my prey. We made and ate our dinner together as usual. After we cleaned up, he excused himself and went to his room. 

I waited five minutes, very quietly walked to his room, and then burst in on him. There were no locks on any rooms in the house except my own, something I explained to Eric in the beginning, but I had never made a big deal about it. Convenient, now, however. He had his pants down, his penis was fully erect and enjoying the ministrations of his hands. He, of course, was mortified, and quickly pulled a sheet over his lower body. I apologized but did not leave (inwardly I was ecstatic at having arrived at the right moment). I had come in ostensibly to discuss some administrative detail of the house. He appeared almost afraid at first of what was going to happen. This was the key moment.

"Eric, dear, don't be embarrassed. There is nothing to be ashamed of. What you're doing is perfectly natural and understandable." I moved toward him. "I told you from the day you arrived here I would take care of all your needs and protect you. I am certainly not going to scold you." The fear started to evaporate from Eric's eyes, though he was still very unsure what would or should happen next. I sat down on the bed and gently pushed him by the chest onto his back into a lying down position. 

"I will help you with everything you need. I'd rather help than not know." With one hand gently but firmly holding his chest down, I masturbated him with my other hand. A couple of times he started to speak but I shushed him. Not knowing what to make of the situation or what to do, he simply obeyed. It was, I was pleased to see, his natural reflex. When we were done, I smiled at him and then got up to leave. The look in his eyes betrayed a puppy-dog look of love as I exited the room.

This started to happen more often. The next day, we made dinner as usual, but Eric didn't talk much. He was, however, stealing more than the usual number of furtive glances at my breasts and legs. When dinner was over and we had cleaned up, Eric lingered a bit longer than usual but finally, quietly excused himself. His difficulty was showing quite readily.

“Eric," I asked as started to leave the kitchen, “would you like me to go with you?" He looked at me as if the light in his eyes had been turned on. He gave me an impish smile and replied, "Yes, Helen, please." I smiled back and followed him to his room. "I think when we do this, however, I’d like you to call me 'Miss Helen. In fact, maybe you should call me that all the time. I am your guardian now." Eric did not yet realize that he would now always have to use a title with me. It is just that the title would change in time.

"Yes, Miss Helen." As we entered his room, Eric looked at me. "Go ahead, dear, do what you always do." He sat on the edge of the bed and laid down, lowering his shorts and underwear to just below his groin. His penis was a raging erection. As he reached for it, I took his hand and moved it away, replacing it with my own. I put my other hand on his chest and held firmly.  I started very, very slowly.  I wanted to draw this out and make it an experience for him, to try to delay it, to tease his cum out of him.   I wanted to hear him him beg for it.  But I didn’t want to tell him to beg for it. I wanted the begging to erupt naturally, from his deep realization that I was now in control of his pleasure and through me, by my permission, could he enjoy relief.  

I slide my fingers up and down his erect shaft for bit, stopping after a minute to squirt a small amount of lube on my hand, which I had brought with me.  Letting it warm for a few seconds, I returned to his member and wrapped my whole hand around his cock, covering it with lubricant. Eric shuddered and exhaled as I did. Up and down, slowly, I went. When I sensed he was near, I would slow down or let go.  Each time I stopped, Eric would groan. After several stops, he would raise it to a whimper. I relished this control!  I loved the feeling of torturing him this way, knowing that I was this boy’s world right in this moment and could play with him like a fine musical instrument. I could feel myself getting soaking wet.

I varied my technique.  I wouldn’t stop, but go so lightly, often with just a fingertip to bring him to the edge of orgasm without sending him over. Once he tried to intervene but I slapped his hand away gently but firmly telling him that I was in charge.  After almost 30 minutes of this sensual torture, I finally elicited the response I wanted.

“Oh, God, Miss Helen!  Please, please let me come!  I can’t take it anymore!”

“What’s that, Eric?  Are you begging me to let you come?”  I continued to lightly run a single fingertip underneath the helmet of his beautiful circumcised cock.

“God, yes, I’m begging!  Please please please please! I can’t take it anymore!”

I chuckled lustily. “That’s right, Eric, I am indeed the Goddess of your world right now.  But you are only allowed to come when I allow it. And only after you beg for it a bit more!”  His begging had made me very, very aroused. I could feel the wetness of my panties.  As much as I wanted more right now from Eric—I started then to think of him as my slave even though the process of his enslavement had just begun—I knew I had to be patient.

I continued my erotic torture of him for just a few more minutes, heard Eric beg for it several times more, before I relented. I fully wrapped my fingers around his impossibly hard cock and sped up until it erupted in orgasm, shooting several feet away, pouring out sticky white come for at least 30 seconds. Eric screamed and cried at the top of his lungs in relief and ecstasy!

After he came down to earth, I told him:   "Let's clean up, now, and go back downstairs."

"Yes, Miss Helen. Thank you." 

"Your welcome, Eric." I knew he would do it again later. But my goal at this point wasn't to control his every movement, but just get myself past that bedroom door. 

After several days of this routine, I was determined to make a couple of changes. On Wednesday, after we entered his room, I said: "Eric, I think it would be better if you undressed completely for this. There would be less risk of messing up your clothes." 

He seemed to hesitate for second, but then quickly complied. First his shirt came off, then his shorts and underwear. I inhaled silently and nearly wet myself. Eric did not in fact have a sculptured body, but it was as thin and tight as it appeared with clothes on, and he had almost no body hair, except at his groin. More importantly, he was now naked in my presence, while I still remained fully, if provocatively, clothed. The power I felt in the situation excited me as never before! My bare hand held down firmly a naked chest. And occasionally even tweaked his nipples, which he seemed to enjoy and make him a bit harder.

I continued making this event a long, sensuous, torturous affair.  But before I brought him to completion, when Eric was excited, desperate, compliant, I announced the second change.

“Eric, in addition to you removing your clothes for these…experiences, from now on, I don’t want you pleasuring yourself anymore without at least my permission and, frankly, I am going to insist you don’t do it all.  I must do it. When you need it, you must come to me and ask for my help.” I slowed my fingers such that they barely were touching him now, but they were touching and he could feel it.

Eric groaned a bit but very quickly agreed. Then I finished him.

Afterwards, he asked, “Does this mean, does this mean, I can only come once a day?”

I smiled.  “No, Eric, we will figure out together what you need and how often.”  As it turned out, visiting his bedroom in the morning before I left for work also became part of my day.

The plan was working beautifully!

Helen's Room

After more than a month together, I had completely taken over the lascivious aspects of Eric’s existence.  Then the day came for the next step. He need to start serving my needs. After dinner, as Eric lay naked on his bed with my hand on his chest, lightly pinching his nipples, I started to stroke him but then soon stopped. 

"Eric, have you enjoyed staying with me, you know, my taking care of you, taking care of what you need." Eric's eyes widened as if he were shocked at the question. "Why, yes, Miss Helen. Very much!"

"Would you say, Eric, that it would be fair of me, after all I have done, to ask you for more help in doing things that need to be done around here?" 

"Yes, of course, Miss Helen," he replied very eagerly. 

"I have needs, too, Eric, for which I would enjoy your help."

Eric's eyes widened again. "Miss Helen, I want…I want to do whatever you want me to do."

"Very good, Eric." I nearly came right then and there, but all he saw was me smiling. "Why don't we go down to my room and you can help me…in a way similar to how I am helping you. We'll take care of you, too, of course, but afterwards." He nodded. He reached for a robe, but I stopped him. "No, dear," I smiled, "come as you are." He walked down the hall, naked, with a raging erection pointing the way.

Eric entered my room cautiously, reverently, as if he were entering a shrine. I had never permitted him in my room before, for any reason, not even to clean it.  By design.  It was a beautifully appointed room with a large four poster king bed. (You recall, I am not a small woman!) But the bed—posters and all—would be useful in due time. Just not today. 

“Turn around, Eric, I wish to change into something more appropriate for this moment, and a young man shouldn't watch a lady change." He did as I asked. I took off my shirt to reveal my very ample bosom encased in tight black lace bra, while I eyed his gorgeous behind. My bra would stay on. I took off my shorts and revealed black silky panties. I put on a pair of fishnet stockings and ankle-high, high-heeled black shoe-boots. I then sat in a large, comfortable sitting chair. 

"Turn around, Eric, and come to me." 

The boy turned, stared, and blurted: "Miss Helen, you are the most beautiful woman I have even seen!”  Of course, by this time I was the only woman he had seen since he had moved in, except for poor old Mrs. Fitzpatrick, his tutor. I thought at that moment that the tutoring would soon have to end. The old bat was no rival to me, but what she was teaching was. I wanted Eric to have no opportunities, no prospects other than me. Education was independence, but without a high school diploma, there would be nothing available to Eric but me!

Eric came over, but he did look a bit confused. "Come and kneel in front of me." He did so and my juices just flowed. "I need you to please me, Eric, pleasure me with your mouth, here," as I pointed to the front of my panties. "I’m sure you’re familiar with the idea, thinking about his porn stash. It is a most important way for any gentlemen to assist a lady. Come, take my panties off." Eric gently pulled my panties down over my fishnet encased legs and black shoeboots. As he did so, he revealed my large black bush. I had always been quite hairy there and never felt any reason to do anything about it. In light of my stature, my bush was probably almost as big as Eric's head. He hesitated, but he looked more uncertain as to what to do rather than unwilling. I fondled his cock with the heel of my boot.

I drew him in closer and whispered in his ear, "don't worry, I’ll guide you, just do what I tell you." With both my hands having a firm grip on the back of his head I guided his mouth to my folds. I showed him wear to lick, told him how, and gave him thorough encouragement. He quickly picked it up and we proceeded apace. After my first orgasm, I explained to Eric that women are different from men, superior in the sense we can and need to come more than once. As he returned to his duties, I locked my long, powerful legs around his small, thin torso. One of my thighs alone was almost as big as his waist! He wasn't going anywhere even if he wanted to! 

Eric spent more than an hour pleasuring me with his mouth and tongue, mostly on his knees but in other positions as well.  When I had had enough, I gave him the relief he craved but again only with my hand.

A Virgin No More

We had spent almost two hours together the previous night. I had had Eric work until I had come four times and then I relieved him. We did this nightly for several weeks. But the time had come to complete his final seduction. I was anxious to move on to get on with his enslavement. I was wanted to play my games with him—games I had been studying and researching since Eric had arrived.  But those games needed to be a natural extension of our relationship and the relationship as yet was incomplete.

"Eric," I said one morning, "I had to let Mrs. Fitzpatrick go yesterday. From what I have seen of your work, I don't think she has been doing her job very well." Eric looked ashamed but said nothing at first. (There wasn't really anything wrong with his work, of course.) 

Finally, he asked: "who will do it now?" 

“I don't know and it may take me some time to find someone suitable. In the meantime, I am going to have to ask you to take on more responsibilities around the house while I work. Since you won't be doing much in the way of studying until I find a replacement, I expect you to fill your days making sure the work gets done and the house runs smoothly. I will leave you a list each day of what to do. This is fair, don't you think?" 

"Oh, yes, Miss Helen. I'll do whatever you ask!" Eric answered. His eagerness to please was unabated.

And so he did. For another week, our routine continued, Eric kept the house clean, fixed things (as he had for his mother), and maintained the yard. Finally, on a Saturday late in the month, after Eric had finished his duties in my bedroom, I suggested a change. 

“Eric, you have worked so hard this week and we have helped each other so well, I thought we could stay here in my bed for the night." I took off my bra and laid beside him. "You deserve more than what you have been getting, don't you think?" Eric nodded slightly but the lust in his eyes and the smile on his lips were quite emphatic. This was it!  The moment was now!  Both of us were well primed after an hour of foreplay, and his erect cock bobbed haughtily in front of us.  I climbed on top of him, pinned his wrists with my hand, and forced his cock deep inside its proper sheath—mine! I did it quickly before either one of us said or did something that caused us to hesitate. Eric came long before I was ready, but that didn't matter. We mated repeatedly that night, always with me on top.  My large athletic body seemed as if it could and would devour my small, young lover.  In light of my height and weight dominance over Eric, it seemed all too possible!

Now, our nightly routine changed to this.  Eric was still required to serve me on his knees first, for as long as I wanted. I needed him to do that to reinforce his new station in life as my boy-toy. Eric's seduction was complete: he was an enthusiastic and energetic lover!   After another month of training Eric to be the perfect lover, the time had come accelerate his decent into slavery!

Subjugation, Enslavement, and Servitude

"Eric," I said one evening after I had had several orgasms but while Eric was still on his knees performing his duties. "Do you enjoy your life here with me?"

He looked at me, once again a little surprised. "Oh, Miss Helen, very much! Why do you ask?"

"Well, Eric, it is just that while I have enjoyed our time together, I must be frank and admit that our relationship, for me, isn't working quite right." There was a fear in his eyes, a fear of loss, as I said this. Perfect!  

“I have never really had a conventional relationship with a man because they just don’t work for me. And our relationship is becoming so conventional." This wasn't really true of course. There was nothing conventional about our relationship or what we were doing.  But I knew Eric's experiences with girls were very limited if not downright nonexistent and the routines I allowed us to fall into reinforced the idea. "I need someone completely devoted to me, Eric, someone who will do whatever I say and do it the way I say it."

"Oh, Miss Helen!  I am completely devoted to you! I mean after everything, I can’t tell you how happy I am..here…with you! I promise to do whatever you say!" 

I knew, of course, that he meant that.  He’s a teenage male with essentially an unlimited supply of sex with a voluptuous, infinitely more experienced woman.  He wanted that to continue.  But I doubt he had ever contemplated where I was intending to take him. I looked at him skeptically and said: "Really, Eric? Do you really mean that? Because what I want Eric is total control of our every moment spent in this house, total control of everything we—you—do. For all practical purposes, Eric you must become like a slave to me, willing to do what I want, when I want it, without needing a why. And failure to do so would bring consequences. For example, my first demand would be to get rid of your little pornography stash."

Eric looked mortified that I knew about that. "Oh, yes, I have always known. I have tolerated it because I understand what it is to be a teenage boy, but if we are to continue I cannot tolerate you having such distractions from me. It's demeaning to me, Eric."

"I'll throw them away right now! I'll do anything for you Miss Helen. If you need me to be your slave, I will be your slave!" 

I smiled at him. "Very well, let's do it now—before we continue here." He got up and walked to his room. I was following closely behind. With my four-inch heels, I towered over Eric by a foot. I stood in his doorway with my arms crossed as he removed the stash from a box hidden under his bed. He gave them to me. "Very good, Eric," and the boy was positively beaming, if not still a little embarrassed. "Let's go back to my room now. When we got to my doorway, however, I stopped him. "Things are going to change now, Eric. Remember, you agreed." He nodded. "The first change is that when we are in this room, you will call me 'Mistress' or 'Mistress Helen' Is that clear? Elsewhere you may continue to call me 'Miss Helen.' I will call you whatever I like, my little slaveboy. Clear?"

"Yes, Mistress Helen,” came his answer and my groin warmed at the first sound of those words.

“Come, slaveboy, we are going to pick up where we left off a few minutes ago, but with some slight changes." He got back on his knees by the chair and I went to my closet for the box of items I had been collecting over the past two months. I pulled out a thick leather collar, a posture collar the store owner had called it. I only knew that slaveboy Eric would look handsome in it. I put it on him and attached the small padlock. I then put leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles and a leather harness on his chest. I nearly came right then when I surveyed my diminutive 16-year old slave, kneeling before. I attached a leash to his collar. 

"Oh Eric, what wonderful games we will play now!" The rest of the night was spent forcing Eric to worship my boots, my legs, my groin, pretty much every inch of my body. I then tied him tightly to the four posters of the bed. In that inescapable position, my little slave worshiped my breasts and ate my pussy some more. I smothered him completely with my ample frame over and over, which became another game. Eric soon realized I could from that position smother him for real. So I began to test Eric's ability to hold his breath. The power and control I felt at those moments was unlike anything I had ever experienced in my life! It was addicting and I knew at that moment that I would never give it up and Eric's reality had truly changed forever!

Humiliation and Discipline

That is the way it went for weeks. I would come home from work and Eric and I would prepare dinner (his cooking skills would take time to improve). He would, of course, clean up. Then we would adjourn to my bedroom where for the next three or four hours I would sexually subjugate Eric and rape him repeatedly. I liked him sexually exhausting him every night and it was common for us to mate three or four times a night (the virtues of a young slave!).  I was virtually insatiable in these settings, but his youth and his hormones allowed him to keep up with me. Typically it would begin about 7:00 pm and then we would go to sleep around midnight. In between my bouts of overt sexual conquest, Eric would service me in any way I saw fit. He was required to spend long periods licking between my legs, giving me massages, pedicures, manicures, brushing my hair, and readying my clothes for the morning. I often left quite early in the morning, and did not disturb the slaveboy's sleep anymore. I left a long list of chores and he needed the rest to do them. I made sure to feed him healthy and nutritious foods so he could keep up his nightly performances. I had never been so sexually, physically, and mentally satisfied with my life!

As the weeks wore on, however, I wanted to go further with Eric. I wanted his total and complete enslavement to me and to accomplish that, several more steps were required. The first was to provide Eric with appropriate outfits in which to do his chores and, depending on how that went, the second would establish once and for all that there were absolutely no limits to my authority over him, that there was truly nothing I could not do with him if I wanted.

I typically gave fewer chores to Eric on Friday, because I wanted him busier on Saturday when I was home to watch him scurrying about his tasks. As we were lounging in bed Saturday morning, I was fondling him in a rather possessive way, I announced: "Eric, I think the time has come for you to wear more appropriate clothing when you are doing your chores." Until that time, he had still been wearing the clothing he had brought with him from his previous home, which now seemed so long ago even though its was only a few months. He looked quizzical as I got up from the bed, still wearing the black lacy underwear I had put on when we went to sleep the previous night. I returned and laid on the bed pink skimpy lacy woman's panties, a satin pink corset, white hosiery, and garters. Over top of that, he would wear a white lacy apron and hat, just like a French maid would wear.

Eric looked mortified. "Ms. Helen, I can't wear that, I am a guy!" It was really quite cute to look at. Here was this diminutive teenage boy, wearing nothing but a slave collar, harness, with cuffs still attached to his wrists proclaiming his masculinity to his Amazon-sized mistress! Stifling my inner laughter, I look annoyed. "You WILL wear this outfit, my little slave, as befitting your place in my home." If Eric caved immediately it would tell me that there were really no barriers left in the exercise of my will over him. But in reality, I was hoping for bit more resistance, so as to have the perfect excuse to expand the repertoire of games I would play with my slave. Either way, with my overwhelming physical superiority the final outcome was never in doubt.

Eric obliged. He got up from the bed, said only "no" and left for his room, starting to take his accoutrements off as he went. I gave him a little head start and then charged after him, still wearing nothing more than my sexy black underwear. I caught up to him in his room, where he discovered I had removed his day clothes the night before. He no longer had anything to wear, except that which I provided to him. I grabbed his arm. "Eric, you are making me angry and I have no wish to be angry with you. You will come back and put your day clothes on now!" 

But Eric broke free from grasp, and I immediately tripped him with one of my long legs. I dove down and started to wrestle and manhandle my young victim. Eric tried to put up resistance, but I was nine inches taller, 50 pounds heavier, and in better shape. Eric could do little more than struggle pitifully in grasp, my arms and legs soon twisted around his and captured his body—they became his bondage. I rather enjoyed his struggling, especially as he realized how inescapable it was.  As he continued to struggle, I said to him, "Eric maybe you think that what we have been doing together has just been a game, but I assure you, it is not. You are indeed my slave in every sense of the term and I am your life! This little act of rebellion on your part will now be put down firmly. You clearly are in need of some discipline to remind you who is in charge here and who must obey." 

I began to manipulate Eric's body into a spanking position on my lap as I sat on the floor. Realizing what was happening, Eric screamed "NOOOOOO!!!!" I was quite sure that that overprotective mother of his had never laid a hand on the boy. That now needed to change.

Finally, Eric's face was pressed into the carpet by my left thigh, which was on his back, my left hand twisting his right behind his back. My right thigh was underneath him, propping his delicious behind into the air. He tried to kick with his feet, but I twisted his arm harder put a stop to that. 

"I don't really want to do this, Eric, but clearly this morning showed I need to take a firmer hand with you." I began to smack his behind, slowly at first, not too hard, and rubbing his ass erotically in between strokes. I wanted to sexualize the discipline in the boy's mind, for it would be a part of his life now. I worked up the intensity and stopped at 25 smacks. His butt was quite red and Eric was crying. I got up and not unlike a small child, Eric remained on the floor crying. I picked him up and carried him back to my room, forcing his new clothes on him. 

"Do we understand each now, Eric?" Sniffing his last, he nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back.  

I bent down, kissed him on the lips, licked his cheek and whispered in his ear: "I have always thought how sexy a MAN is in pink. Now, off you go." He gave me an embarrassed smile, but clearly happy that he could rationalize this as something that made me happy.

I dressed in my tight black tee-shirt and tight cotton black shorts for the rest of the day. I spent most of it relaxing and watching Eric do his chores. Watching him do work that I used to have to do, in a lacy and satin pink outfit, kept me wet most of the time, as I knew it would when I got dressed. I periodically made sure that Eric could see the dark moisture stains on my shorts as I watched him. My house is on a very secluded lot in the country, so Eric could also safely do his outside chores in his outfit—minus the apron and with pink, feminine sneakers. You don't know how good life is until you've watched a 16-year old male mow the lawn and trim the hedge in a pink corset, panties, stockings and garters. It was clear that the clothes Eric had brought with him, that were safely locked away in the trunk would last for years to come, as they would rarely ever be worn again.

The Final Chapter

For the past four months Eric has served me this way. It was more than 7 months since I became his guardian.  But guard him I did.  On his 17th birthday, I gave my slave a chastity device. There were times when I had to go away on business, but Eric was to have absolutely no sexual activity unless it was with me or supervised by me. He wasn't really keen on his present, but he did not argue for fear it would add to his weekly discipline sessions. 

Yes, Eric was now spanked weekly. I would catalogue his mistakes for the week and administer his punishment on Friday nights. There wasn't usually much to spank him for, as Eric worked hard. From time to time I had to make a few things up. While Eric still found the spankings painful, they were becoming erotic to him, as I had hoped. One day he had asked if we could recreate the first discipline session we had had. He wanted to be chased, wrestled into submission, and then spanked. 

Since he had arrived, I had thought he was naturally submissive and slave material, but this made it clear. My heart leapt with joy at his request, because that was the way I wanted things to go, too. More and more I am aroused by the size and physical advantages—complete superiority, really—that I have over him.  Clearly, it excites Eric as well!  Our Friday night discipline sessions took on the character of a hunt, of a race between predator and prey. I would give Eric a 5-minute head start to run and hide anywhere in the house and—in the summer when it was still light outside—property. I would then proceed to track him down, physically overpower him, and then discipline him. Sometimes it would be right where he was caught, other times I took him back to out bedroom so I could proceed instantly to fucking him!

Still, that was a bit of a digression. As I said, Eric has served me for some time. But now it was time for him to be seen serving me. It was the final crucial step that would cement my control over him and ensure that our relationship would be permanent. I was going to have two close friends, Eileen and Heather, over for dinner. Eric would serve us all, in his domestic capacity. Whether I would have him service them sexually in some way remained to be seen. I wanted to see how the evening would go. They certainly wouldn't be having sex with him!   The only bliss of that kind Eric would ever know would be me!  Still, after six months of intense and extensive practice, he has a very talented tongue now.

Eileen and Heather were good friends of mine from the business world. They didn't work for me, but rather for other firms with which mine did business from time to time. They were peers. We enjoyed each other socially, but they had commented in the past few months why I had been unavailable so many times. While I did see them, usually at lunch, I hadn't explained that enslaving Eric was taking up literally every evening I had. Then one Friday in a quiet restaurant at an out-of-the-way table, I explained everything that had transpired in the past seven months.

Eileen's first response was, "My God, Helen, that isn't legal. The boy's too young. Couldn't you have waited until he was 18 or something?!?”

"Is that what you're concerned about, legalities? Those didn't seem to concern you when you acquired the McBraken contract last year. Besides, 16 is the age of consent in this state." Eileen blushed at the reference to a sexual indiscretion of hers in order to advance her business interests. 

I continued, "You know how most of the men we meet have no interest for me, with their gushing testosterone. The last thing I wanted was a husband like one of them. This is the ideal solution. I will take care of Eric forever and ever, although I admit it wasn't exactly what Marion had in mind."

Heather hadn't said anything, but then blurted: "Are you kidding?!? This is great! I am envious as hell. Will you show him to us? I wish I had the same opportunity!”

"That is why I suggested lunch. I want you both to come to dinner tomorrow. Eric will serve us all—in his uniform." Heather looked as if she were having an orgasm right there. "And Heather, as for looking for opportunities, you might want to take a closer look at the young man who mows your lawn. He works hard, is quiet and polite. He is being raised by his grandmother, who is in ill health and has little time to devote to him. Those are the key ingredients you need. He just might respond to the concerned ministrations of a professional woman." Heather look blankly at me and then seemed lost in thought.

"In any event, tomorrow at eight."

"Have you told him, yet?" Heather asked.

"No, I'll tell him tonight. Friday's are discipline nights. It is right the setting."

"Discipline night?" my friends queried.

"I catalogue Eric's mistakes, omissions, and inadequacies in the week's tasks and behavior. We review them and he is given a punishment for each one, in the form of spankings. It is usually 10 to 25 strokes with my hand, even if I have to make something up to get to 10. It is when I am in my most dominant mood and doing my most dominating activities," I said. Eileen was amused, but Heather looked downright envious.

"I wish I could be there for that," Heather stated. But I just laughed. "It is a favorite time of mine to be sure."

Later that night, my slaveboy received the consequences of his misbehaviors—15 smacks over my lap, with his hard cock held tightly by my muscular thighs. Usually, at that moment, I rape him. It helps to further eroticize his discipline. Following his expectations I turned him over and quickly sheathed his penis inside me, but before grinding him to ecstasy, I stopped to talk. 

"Eric," I said with the weight of my body on his groin and my hands clamped to his wrists holding him down, "I am having two friends to dinner tomorrow. We shall prepare it together tomorrow and you shall be serving." 

“By 'serving' you mean..." he asked hesitantly. 

“Yes, Eric, you shall be in your pink uniform and I will even provide you with an appropriate pair of shoes for the occasion." The boy went deep red and seemed to squirm ever so slightly, but simply answered "yes, Mistress." After all, what else could he say with 185 lbs of Amazonian female controlling all his movements. I then rode him roughly to our finish.

Saturday was spent preparing for the evening's dinner. Eric was quiet at first, pensive, but as the day wore on he seemed to get his mind wrapped around the idea of what was expected of him that night. He wore an older uniform as we worked together, but would shower later and change into a new, exceptionally fine version of his pink slaveboy outfit that I had purchased earlier in the week. I wore only my skin-tight black tee-shirt, without a bra, the black lacy panties, and fishnets stockings. I tried as much as possible to eroticize all my interactions with Eric, even when we were doing mundane things.

It was a little before eight and Eric had cleaned up and changed into his new finery. I was wearing a beautiful new cocktail dress, underneath I had on my usual lace underwear but with my own black garters and stockings, and three-inch heeled shoes. What a sight it must have been! An Amazon reaching 6'5" into the air beside a 5'5” man-boy in his pink slaveboy maid's uniform, replete tonight with pink flats. Eric was clearly nervous as I addressed him. "You will address them as Miss Eileen and Miss Heather, do you understand? Do not address them unless they address you, with the exception of when you are serving." At this, the door bell rang. I made Eric answer the door. In walked Eileen and Heather, both looking wide-eyed at Eric and giggling a bit. Eric's face turned quite red, but stuck to my rules.

"Eileen, Heather, this is Eric. He is my guardian.” (I had told Eric that I would not call him a slave on front of my friends.). “He will be serving us dinner tonight."

"Oh, Helen," Heather said, "he's adorable. I love his outfit."

"He certainly is," Eileen added. They both handed Eric their evening jackets for him to put away.

The evening proceeded quite smoothly for a quite a while. Eric served cocktails before the meal and we chatted amicably about work, politics, current events. Occasionally either Eileen or Heather would strike up a brief side conversation with Eric about his duties and how he does them, when I was otherwise engaged. But Eric answered correctly and made no effort to draw it out, as was proper.

I had watched the food carefully (Eric would eventually be sent to gourmet cooking classes, but I wanted him past his 18th birthday first.) Eric served the meal well, but nearing the end of the main course he tipped over Heather's wine glass as he attempted to refill it. He had spilled pinot noir all over her white evening dress. Heather cried out at the shock of the wetness all over her front and I was utterly livid!

“Eric, you clumsy boy! Look at what you have done to Heather's dress! Go get something to help clean it up." Heather was making noises that it was no big deal, but she was clearly annoyed by the situation, as I would have been, as I was. "Eric," I said as he came back from the kitchen with items to clean up, "go get Heather a robe from my room, we must take steps immediately to prevent that stain from setting. Then, I will see you in the kitchen." The look in my face was stern and unforgiving I am sure, because the look in Eric's face was one of fear and embarrassment at the mess he had caused. Eric left and came back relatively quickly with a robe for Heather. She got up from the table and excused herself to the bathroom. Eric then headed for kitchen, which was both adjacent to and in plain view of the dining room.

For five minutes I carved him a new asshole verbally. Ordering him on his knees, berating him the mess he made, embarrassing me in front of my friends, criticizing his other quite small errors from earlier in the day—long enough until I saw Heather return to the dining room in the robe. Eric's head was downcast, but he was apologizing profusely and begging for forgiveness. After I had finished my tirade, I then winked at her and Eileen and said to Eric: "Not good enough. You must be punished for such carelessness, punished here and now." 

I grabbed Eric and dragged him over to a kitchen chair. The boy whimpered in fear because he had never been disciplined when I was clearly so angry. But over my lap he went, down went his panties, and I started smacking. There was no erotic rubbing between blows this time, however. This was all business. All of this was quite deliberately in plain view of Heather and Eileen.

Eileen watched in what could be described as fascination. Heather had a shit-eating grin on her face, like a child in a candy-store. Eric received 20 hard smacks on his bottom, which was still a bit sore from the previous night's regular discipline session. He soon whimpered and cried and begged me to stop, which I did when I said 20. "Now, you will march into the dining room and apologize to Miss Heather and beg her forgiveness." I was tempted to make Eric offer Heather the opportunity to spank him, too, but quickly decided that he had just been punished enough for his crime and, more importantly, only I should ever discipline him. It would reinforce the bond between us if, after tonight, he realized that only I would ever deliver correction.

Eric walked over to Heather who had been leaning against the dining room table with her arms crossed, enjoying the show. Eric sank to his knees, with his head staring at the floor, and between a few sniffles, said "Please Miss Heather, I am so sorry I ruined your dress. I didn't mean it; it was an accident. I was clumsy and stupid. Please, please forgive me." Heather shot me a mischievous look, at which I nodded an approval at what I thought she had in mind. 

"Very well, Eric, I forgive you. But how will you compensate me? You have no money and it doesn't look like to me that your clothes would fit me." Heather was by no means fat, but she was a size or two larger than Eric's diminutive frame. Eric, if it were possible, turned even redder at this statement. "How about this. Watching Helen spank you has got me a bit hot and bothered and she tells me you have had six months to become an expert cunt-lapper (Heather had always been more crude than me). Why don't you show me how sorry you are," and she parted her robe to reveal her trimmed but very blond bush.

"Wait," I said, let's retire to the sitting room for this and, to do this properly, Eric needs something first. I left and soon returned with Eric's collar and leash. "Put this on, Eric, and give the leash to Miss Heather." He did so and Heather pulled him by the leash on all fours to the sitting room. She settled onto the large arm chair and pulled the boy in, who indeed made my friend very happy.

"I'd like to join in on this fun," Eileen, who had been silent since the spanking, suddenly declared. "Why not," I answered. "We've had our dinner; Eric will be our dessert." And so for the next three hours, until one in the morning Eric gave the three of us many orgasms with his tongue. And we played a good many other humiliation games with him. Both Heather and Eileen left (Heather in a borrowed outfit), saying it had been the best dinner party ever and they hoped we would do it again sometime soon. I told them both we would do it regularly. Eric and I adjourned to the bedroom. We would clean up in the morning. He did in fact deserve a reward for the last three hours and intended to give him one.

Epilogue

I love Eric, not quite as a lover, or a child, or a pet but something like all three. I love him as my slave. He worships me, of course. He is totally submissive to me and his life now is one of total sexual servitude and adoration of me. When Eric turns 18, we will be married. It will be a quiet civil ceremony at a courthouse across the state, (where they didn't know I had been his guardian), ensuring his rights to my estate in the unlikely event something would ever happen to me. Still, having cut off his every option in life but me, I will need to appoint a guardian of sorts for him, even if he is an adult. For all intents and purposes, he is my property, but if something were to happen, he would be lost without a new owner. I have trained him in sexual and domestic slavery. He doesn't know anything else and I doubt he wants to do anything else anymore. Not that that matters, because that is not a choice he has, or has had since the day he moved in with me. Perhaps Eileen or Heather would be willing?

The more important ceremony would be at home where he will formally commit to a life of slavery to me. It will be just between the two of us. Eric will wear only his leash and collar, his corset and panties. He will read a statement I will have written for him about how he will love, cherish, honor, and obey me; be willing to be disciplined by me; be willing to serve in any way that I command for the rest of his life. I will promise to love and cherish him, protect and take care of him; to enslave him and place him in bondage to me; to use him as I see fit for the rest of his life. Oh, what a glorious life I will have! After all, isn't this what this is all about? Me!