The Seduction And Enslavement Of Young, Innocent Eric

The First Year of Marriage

Eric turned 18 this past Saturday.  More than a year and a half has passed since his mother died and he became my guardian.  More than a year and half has passed since I first seduced him and then enslaved him to me.  I am his entire life.  He doesn't know anyone, does not even have a high school diploma, no skills other than domestic—it's almost as if he were a mail-order groom from a foreign country!  The very thought is exciting to me, knowing how completely I have arranged and control his life now.  That control itself is an intense aphrodisiac!  He is the proverbial fly in my the spider's web, but one that is never eaten, just forever controlled—so fully controlled—and used, so fully used by me.  

When I first seduced Eric, he was virginal and innocent.  I am 37 years old and everything he has ever experienced about our very special kind of love and sex has been taught to him by me.   I am the only woman he has ever experienced or will ever experience in this special way.  As a tall, strong, athletic woman (6'2", 185 lbs), I love to physically and sexually dominate my young slave in every way I can.  He, in contrast, is only 5'5" and 130lbs.  When I wear my black boots with 4-inch black, which is often, I tower over him by more than a foot.   Eric's thin body, boyish looks, and impish smile make a wonderful contrast with my overwhelming Amazonian power.

When his 18th birthday arrived, I told Eric we would first celebrate and then we would be married.  I had a number of gifts to give him.  They included some new domestic outfits for around the house.  Until then, when Eric, my slave, would take care of the house—cleaning, fixing, gardening—I had required him to wear a pink satin corset, pink shoes, pink hosiery, a maid's hat and apron.  Now I gave him the same outfit in a new more colors:  baby blue, lavender, and bright red.  He could now choose what to wear, except, of course, on those days he wasn't allowed to choose.  

To truly celebrate his birthday, however, I told him we would take the day off from mundane household work (although there is nothing mundane about watching a boy of 18 dust and vacuum in a pink corset!) and make love for 18 straight hours.  That would mark his passing into the age of "manhood," even though I would never call it that.  And so we did.  We got a good night's rest and began 18 straight hours of lovemaking.  It wasn't all activity, of course.  There were periods of rest, eating, and short naps, but for 18 hours we played sexual bondage and discipline games of every kind.  Eric was forced to bring me to more than a dozen orgasms and I brought him to maybe half as many.  At the end, we fell asleep for more than 12 hours.

When I told Eric that now that he was 18 we would be married, he cried with joy.  "Oh, Miss Helen, I love you so much.  I can't wait to be married to you."  I, on the other hand, said to slave Eric, "You understand, of course, that it doesn't change anything here.  I will still dominate our relationship and you must still obey everything I demand?"  He said he perfectly understood and would not have wanted it any other way. 

I explained further:  "Eric, our marriage ceremony will be small and private, at a Justice of the Peace some distance from here.  Afterwards, however, we will have another commitment ceremony here at the house.  I decided Ellen and Heather will attend, as witnesses.  We will exchange a set of vows I have written for us and I will give you tokens of our marriage."  (Ellen and Heather were special friends who knew about and approved of the special relationship I had with Eric.)  Eric thought that sounded like a wonderful wedding day.  

"We will also have some special wedding pictures taken, some traditional but some more reflective of our true relationship.  I found an open-minded photographer who understands what I want."  

"Yes, Miss Helen."  Eric isn't thrilled about the prospect of exposing himself to others, but he understands he has no choice but to obey.

The following week we drove halfway across the state to a courthouse in one of the larger cities.  I wore a tasteful black conservative suit with a pair of black boots underneath.  I had bought for Eric a pure white suit and tie, with lacy white woman's underwear underneath.  When our turn came, I discussed with the Justice of the Peace our desire for small quiet wedding.  I told him that we wanted to word "obey" to be included in Eric's vows.  The judge raised his eyes at this, but Eric merely stated, "oh, yes sir, I like it that way."  I am not sure whether the look the judge gave Eric was pity, disgust, or envy, but it didn't matter.  That was why we drove half-way across the state.  We were done quickly after.  I promised to "love and cherish" Eric, and indeed I would because there wasn't a man alive who could hold a candle to him now for me.  Eric promised to "love, honor, and obey."  We put on our rings, kissed deeply (which must have been quite a sight in light of the height advantage I had over Eric (or the judge for that matter), and left for home.

When we got back, Eileen and Heather were already there and the photographer arrived shortly thereafter.  At first, I wanted a variety of conventional poses.  But when they were done, I wanted a variety of unconventional poses—ones that showed off my complete sexual domination of Eric—as well.  I had already made the arrangements with the photographer before, so he wouldn't be shocked, but as I sent Eric to change, I followed to change as well.  In the bedroom I told him that as symbols of our everlasting relationship, I wanted an album that would excite me every time I looked at it.  

I ordered Eric to strip off his clothes and put on a very tight-fitting but lacy pair of white woman's underwear, white stockings with garters, a slave harness, and thick black collar.  I put on fishnet stockings, calf-high black boots with 4-inch heels, a black leather low-cut halter, tight black leather shorts, and gloves.  I looked truly magnificent!  I carried with me a leash, wide black cuffs, and a long riding crop. For the next half hour, we posed in the ways I wanted while the photographer took the pictures.  The leash was attached to Eric's collar.  My new slave-husband posed worshiping my boots while I smiled triumphantly, he posed as I was making to crop him, he posed on his knees, head prostrate to the ground with my heel planted on his neck while I pulled at the leash, he posed as he was bound and I sat on his back as if he were a chair, and on it went for more than two dozen of my favorite images.  Eric’s cock was noticeably hard the whole time and often wonderfully evident in the pictures. Heather and Eileen enjoyed watching this show, of course.  After we were done, I sent the photographer on the way and we all proceeded to our little commitment or, shall we say, life enslavement, ceremony.  

After the photographer drove away, I had Eric remove his panties. I had originally thought he would keep them on, but I decided at that moment that he needed to be totally exposed before me, albeit with the humiliation of stockings, gartars, and a collar.  His cock bounced out in hard, bold erection! In the center of the living room, before my friends, Eric then kneeled before me and read his slave commitment vows—something I had written for him a year ago when I knew Eric would become my slave forever—out loud:  

"Mistress Helen, I promise to love, cherish, and obey you, to worship you as my superior, to be placed in bondage to you, to be disciplined as you see fit, to take care of all your needs, to be humiliated by you if that is your pleasure, to love no other, to submit to no one else unless you so command, to do whatever it is you desire, to be your slave in every sense of the word for the rest of my natural life."  He then handed the leash attached to his collar to me.  It might have seemed a little corny to some, but I was so happy as he was speaking because he was saying it with a lot of heartfelt emotion.  Eric’s happy, enthusiastic embrace of his subjugation was a greater outcome than I had imagined when this began.

As I took the leash, I replied with my own vows:  "My beloved slave Eric, I accept the gift of your very life with great love and emotion.  I promise to love and cherish you, place you bondage to my body and needs, discipline when you misbehave, dominate you during every waking moment, indeed enslave you for the rest of my natural life!"  I then pick Eric up off the floor, embraced and deeply and passionately kissed him as his feet dangled in the air.  When I finally sat him down, Eileen and Heather applauded as I pinched his round bottom and gave it a smack.  Afterwards, we had a nice lunch, with Eric serving, of course.  

Honeymoon

Eric had spent little time outside of my property since he had coming here, but I was determined to have a honeymoon with him.  But a beach resort was out of the question—having him ogling other female flesh would not do.  It was in the winter months, so I had decided on a skiing honeymoon.  We arrived at the chalet around six in the evening, unpacked and went down to dinner.  Eric and I enjoyed ourselves very much, even with the occasional stares and whispers when people were obviously commenting on the differences in our physical characteristics and age.  Some might have even thought us mother and son, but others clearly knew better.  After dinner we retired to our room.  It was a quiet, out-of-the-way room, with a gas fireplace, large pillows, comforters, and furs on the floor in front of it, clearly meant for a relaxing time.  Eric and I showered after dinner and I put on a lovely silk robe (I had turned up the heat quite a bit).  Eric was completely naked.  

"Eric, my pet, do not put anything on.  For the entire time we are together in this room you are to be completely naked in the presence, unless I put something on you."

"Yes, Miss Helen."  The boy had an erection, a state he was frequently in once I had started to seducing him those many months ago.  We sat on the soft pile in front of the fire and we began our first night of lovemaking as wife and husband, mistress and slave, predator and prey.  It was, however, going to be a gentle experience for Eric—we would play some rougher games soon enough.  Tonight he would enjoy erotic domination more than the physical kind.  

As we embraced, I kissed him long and hard, thrusting my tongue repeatedly into his mouth, exploring every inch of it, my arms around him, my legs snaking around his until they were firmly in my grip.  After a long bout of kissing, during which I frequently held Eric's mouth with a fistful of his hair, I moved his head to my breasts, one of which was half the size of Eric's entire head.  I had Eric suckle me for what seemed like an hour, unable to move any distance at all from the bondage of my arms and legs.  

Eventually, I forced Eric's mouth down to my pussy to worship me there as well.  I slowly, inexorably drew my legs around Eric's head and onto his back. I held his arms up at my sides by their wrists, and I folded my silk robe over Eric's head, placing him in sexual prison. I kept Eric there for what seemed like an eternity, making him bring me to orgasm after orgasm.  If he tired, he could rest his head on my groin like pillow—I wanted him seeped in my feminine scent at all times.  Finally, I released Eric from that position, turned him over and made slow methodical love to him.  He came quickly the first time, but we simply rested in that position until we resumed.  At his age, Eric never lost his erection, although it took a while before he came again.  I held Eric down by his wrists or smothered his face with my breasts.  We continued like this until after we both came again.  We finally fell asleep exhausted, with Eric firmly in my grasp all night long.  The next few days would bring rougher play.  It was a glorious, glorious honeymoon!

Married Life 

When we returned from the honeymoon, we settled back down into our former routine.  Eric was now my husband, my lover, but especially my slave.  Eric performed all of the domestic duties of the home, as if he was always destined to be the slave-homemaker to a successful, ambitious, dominant woman. He was always wearing a slave outfit:  a satin corsett, garters, nylons, a French maid's hat and a lacy apron—and his slave collar. 

I was also willing to out with Eric now from time to time.  We enjoyed going to a restaurant or the movies—naturally I always ordered for him and always chose what movie to see.  We attracted the occasional stares of course.  I was still twice his age and obviously much taller and stronger.  I suppose if I had wanted I could have made it appear that Eric was my son rather than what he was, my slave-husband but I saw no reason for that.  I would never reveal the full and true extent of our relationship to the outside world.  That is, after all, a matter between only the two of us.  But I saw no reason for other men and women—other couples—not to see that we had a romantic relationship and that I clearly was the senior partner 

Eric's day-time duties were usually followed every night by extensive encounters—our bondage and discipline sex games.  Even now, though we were now married and shared the same room and the same bed, Eric was not allowed to stand in our boudoir.  He was required to always remain on his knees or crawl on the floor.  By only allowing him to crawl in our love nest, even if it was just to go brush his teeth, constantly reinforced his submissive and subjugated status.  Every night Eric performed at least an hour of cunninglingus on his knees with his arms cuffed to a leather belt attached to his waist and with my infinitely long muscular legs clamped to his body.  

When he wasn't performing that all-important task he was attending to my other personal desires, massages, stroking, hair brushing, finger and toe-nail polishing—he was in every way my personal body servant.  He would spend more time pleasuring me after I tightly bound him to our king-sized four-poster bed and I repeatedly encased his entire head with my large black bush and powerful thighs.  On many occasions I would pretend to smother Eric and not let him breathe for increasingly long periods of time.  We were practicing extending his ability to hold his breath. The very first time I did this him, which seems so long ago now, Eric was frightened but now that he understands the nature of the game it excites him even more.  The absolute power I have over him is on full display in these moments.  Eric has even joked how if he ever had "to go" that was the way he wanted it to happen.  I laughed with him when he said seriously:  "Oh, no Eric, we don't want that.  I am looking forward to the decades of enslavement to me that we will have."  And with that, I would fuck  his brains out once or twice before we both collapsed and went to sleep.

Friday nights were still discipline nights in my house.  Direct physical discipline was an important part of our relationship.  But increasingly, after we married, we made it less of a formal ritual and more of the predator-prey games we had occasionally played before.  I maintained a list of the infractions Eric had committed over the week against me rules.  Usually it was a few minor failings in chores, sometimes a muttered comment about something he didn't like under his breath (he is human, after all!)  The list established the number of spankings he would receive from my hand.  The game now was that I let him crawl out of the bedroom, completely naked of course, and run through the house with a 3-minute head-start.  Then I would to follow him, capture and subdue him, and then proceed with his discipline. Eric clearly enjoyed this game as much as I.  He was always turned on by the height and strength advantage I had over him.  His full erection was always on display.  I would find him, wrestle him to the ground, twist him into a spanking position (which I always made sure took a long, long time) and then proceeded to remind Eric who was always in charge.  The strong do what they want, the weak suffer what they must.  It described my marriage to sweet, innocent Eric to a tee.

The Playroom

Six months went by and this is the life Eric leads.  Occasionally we would have Eileen and Heather over for dinner but on those occasions Eric served them their meals and then served up his talented tongue after dinner.  He was now exceptionally experienced at cunninglingus. We sometimes played the hunt and chase games with him although the deal was that once Eileen or Heather captured and subdued Eric with their lovely bodies, the discipline would be administered by me.  I had always promised Eric two things:  one, only I would ever physically punish him and two, he would only ever have intercourse we me.  Of course, that didn't stop Eileen and especially Heather tormenting him in other ways.  Heather in particular, when she captured him, would make sure he stayed quiet while she stroked his penis.  Never enough to make him ejaculate but enough that he would beg her to let him and she could deny him.  Eric naturally was not ever allowed to have an orgasm without permission and Heather knew I would never give him one until after they left.  She utterly enjoyed the sadistic tease and denial torment she inflicted on him at our dinner parties.  When she was done with him she would let him speak, "Miss Heather, please, please let me come," and it was her delighted laughter, "oh, no, Eric, you know I can't do that without Helen's persmission," denying him signaled  that she was ready for me to come and redden his gorgeous bottom to my guests' delight.

Nevertheless, after a while I began to grow concerned that maybe our relationship would become too boring.  After all it had been nearly two years now since I first seduced and then enslaved the diminutive boy to my Amazonian body.  For the past year, partly on Heather's recommendation, I had begun reading several bondage and female domination magazines.  

"If you enjoy what your doing with Eric, Helen, you'll enjoy those types of magazines.  You probably will find ideas of things to do and try with him," she said.  "What have you got to lose but a few dollars?"  

I had to admit she had a point but at the time she made it, I had a clear path I wanted to take Eric down and things were not yet complete.  Now we are married and "settled," so to speak, albeit in a far less traditional way than that phrase generally implies.

Reading the magazines was intriguing and sometimes a little offensive and revolting.  There are a number of activities I would never want to participate in or would want Eric to participate in. But the magazines did provide many ideas of delightful and wicked games I could play with him.  Above all, I decided I wanted a playroom for us, something with more room, more "equipment" than my bedroom has or could hope to offer.  So I decided we would renovate the basement and transform it into an erotic, kinky playroom for us—oh, I should call it what it is—dungeon!  A place where I would be able torment and torture Eric for the rest of his life! That thought alone, that prospect warmed me and made me excited!

The first steps were straightforward.  I hired a contractor to put in the basic finished room and bath.  It would have thickly padded red carpeting, recessed lighting, plain unpainted walls and ceiling, and large cabinets and shelving along about half the walls.  Eric would do the rest of the work as I planned on what purchases would be made for the room.  It was not a trivial investment but it provided great possibilities.

Part of the basement was devoted to a large thick pad and with padding on the walls.  Then I introduced "wrestling night" to Eric.  We had of course continued to play our chase, capture, and rape game on a regular basis, but I never made the "capture" part too long.  Most of that fun was devoted to the "chase" as Eric was good at hiding and moving fast and to the "rape" where after I had conquered him, I made him pleasure me before I took him.  The purpose of wrestling night was to have long drawn out sessions in which we exerted ourselves physically, to weekly demonstrate how much physically superior to Eric I was.  It was great fun for me!  And most of the time for Eric, too, although occasionally I got carried away and bruised him a bit more than I intended.   

Once it was completed, on wrestling nights Eric and I would descend to the basement, he wearing only a pink jockstrap and me wearing only a black thong and a low-cut athletic bra.  I wanted complete freedom of movement for me and as much access to Eric's body as safety would allow.  The rules were simple and always the same:  we would wrestle and whoever wins by pinning the other gets to make any demand of the loser.  In light of my Amazonian stature and strength, I of course never lost.  But Eric knew he had to try as hard as he could on each and every wrestling night or I would be unhappy and that was something he did not want. The first night went like this.

"Eric, my pet," I called to him.  

"Yes, Mistress," he answered.  He was finishing cleaning up after dinner.  

"Eric, tonight I am introducing our first 'wrestling night' to take advantage of our new playspace.  The rules are simple:  we wrestle until there is a winner and the loser must submit to the winner's whims.  What do you think of that?"  Not that what he really thought really mattered.

"Well, Mistress Helen, I confess it sounds like fun but I don't think the odds are in my favor.  But I love playing these games with you."

 "True, my little love slave, but you will try your hardest to win just the same.  The fun here is the wrestling itself, not necessarily what comes after!"

We went into the basement and walked over over to the pad.  Eric was still wearing he frilly pink day clothes and I was just in a set of sweats.  "Take your clothes off Eric and put this on," and I handed him his pink jock strap, which I made sure was just a bit too tight.  As he did so, I stripped out of my sweats—my thong and bra were already on.  Eric has a difficult time keeping his eyes off my body when I am dressed like this.  He is 18, after all, and with no TV or magazines and very few outings, I am pretty much the only female flesh he ever sees.  It has become impossible for him to resist getting aroused.

We begin by circling each other a bit until I approach and make like I am going to grab Eric's arms.  He in turn sees that, ducks my grasp but falls victim to my tripping him with my legs.  In a second I am on top of him on the floor, pulling his arms behind him, slipping my legs around his body and squeezing him until he begs for mercy.  Letting him go, we start again.  Eric lunges at me, but I sidestep and lock his head around my arm while I have him bent in half.  He grabs at my leg but he simply isn't strong enough to take me down.  I am amused at how he tried and his abject failure to budge me is exciting! And I fondle his groin awhile as he is this position, distracting and weakening him further.

One of my favorite positions is to get behind Eric on the mat, grab his left wrist and his right foot and position my legs on his back and pull, threatening to snap him like a breadstick.  I shriek in delight as he struggles pitifully in my Amazonian thigh squeeze.  We wrestle—more accurately I manipulate and bend his body into different and uncomfortable positions, stimulating his cock or spanking his exposed bottom.  Usually I let Eric escape repeatedly only to recapture him and place him in bondage with and to my body.  I love to tickle Eric as we wrestle and I control him.  Tickling, too, if done enough can be a form of torture and I love to torture Eric this way.  The utter control I have over him, physically, is a narcotic that I cannot seem to get enough of!

 Eventually Eric tires from his futile battles with me and as I sense that happening, I pin Eric on his stomach with his arms behind his back.  I remove my panties and rip his jock-strap from him.  I then turn Eric over and stretch his arms above his head, with me now naked from the waist down, sitting on his chest, pinning his arms with my knees, and placing my crotch over his mouth.  In the post-contest cool-down, Eric must lick my pussy for as long as I demand.  Only when I am satisfied with this do I mount him and ride him to orgasm.

I am now thinking of adding more variety to our sex life.  I have molded Eric's sexual makeup to be devoted to me, to be sexually aroused from being dominated.  He is now incapable of anything other sexual behavior other than being a submissive sexual lover.  He would have no idea what to do.  And Eric's obvious sexual enjoyment when in various uncomfortable physical positions makes me determined to cultivate a masochism in him. To train his sexual arousal to associate it with the infliction of pain. Some of that is already there—his hard-ons during spanking for example.  But if I do this right, he will learn to become sexually excited from my torturing him, hurting his cock and balls, painfully pinching nipples, perhaps even full-up whippings. The thought excites me!  Whole new frontiers for us to explore!