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From: tmquin@ibm.net (Thomas M Quin)
Subject: {ASS}SSK: A Slave's Story  Pt 3 (M/F, NC, Bond, kidnap)
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*****************************************************************
                                     STANDARD DISCLAIMER
                                     ===================

The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and 
has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is
found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author.

The author explicitly prohibits.

1) The posting of this story in an incomplete form. 

2) The use of this story in a larger work without his express 
    permission.

3) The use of this story on any CD, BBS or Website without the
    written permission of the author.

This work is copyright J Snyder 1998. 

All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to 
persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this
story, some of which are dangerous or illegal.


Snyder 1998

snyder@micronet.net
*****************************************************************

		A Slave's Story By Snyder
                ============================

Chapter 3
==========

But enough "fond memories." I have things to do. 

First the harness gag. (He used to have several of these, but heís
down to just his favorite one now.) Thereís a dresser and wardrobe
just outside my cell to hold all "my" clothes. I have to reach through
the bars with my wrists still chained to open one of the drawers with
the "toys" to get the gag. (As I said, I CAN remove the cuffs to get
dressed, but if I have them off any longer than absolutely necessaryÖ,
well, see the part above about "hell to pay.") I fumble around and
find the harness gag and manage to get the straps positioned properly.
I have to make sure all the straps are as tight as I can get them for
"inspection" later. 

Now to find the tan business suit. From his choice of clothing, my
guess is that heís going to want to play either "Secretaryís lunch
break" or "Deposing the lady lawyer." In any case, he left the choice
of underwear to me, so I select a basic white bra to match the panties
I already have on, and of course stockings and garter belt. 

I must dress in a particular methodical order. First the garter belt
goes on. Then one of the ankle cuffs comes off so I can slip on one
stocking and immediately replace the cuff. Repeat with other leg. Now
I pull on the skirt. Lastly, I get to work on the bra, blouse, and
jacket: Take off one wrist cuff, slip arm into bra, and replace the
cuff. Take off other cuff, slip bra on the rest of the way and fasten,
then replace cuff. Repeat with blouse and jacket, making sure to have
both cuffs on in between each item. And of course the slip I was
wearing comes off as the bra goes on. 

This rather tedious process ensures that I always have at least three
cuffs on at all times. I always follow his dressing instruction to the
letter. I donít know if heíll watch his little video tape on any
particular day, and I have no intention of finding out the hard way by
taking any shortcuts. And at least it give me something to do. 

With dress-up time done, I wipe the spittle from around my mouth, and
lay down on the cot to wait. My jaw is already starting to ache from
the gag, so I try relaxing the muscles as best I can. I try to occupy
my mind by imagining ways to escape, but I must admit I also find
myself daydreaming about the days when he comes home in a particularly
good mood. It infuriates me when this happens, because I know thatís
just what he wants, but I canít help myself! You see, Iíve learned
that, besides being a madman who doesnít hesitate to beat me, my so-
called "master" can inflict pleasure as well as pain. 

It was the very next morning after my painful lesson with the switch.
I thought I would never fall asleep that night while so tightly tied
and in such pain. But I know I did sleep, because I definitely
remember waking up to find him leaning over me, gently stroking the
matted hair away from my face. I was startled, and tried to crawl
away, which he let me do for a moment. Then without a word, he slowly
walked toward me, bent down and continued brushing my hair back. Then
he removed the gag, waiting patiently for me to try to get some
feeling back in my jaws, and offered me some water. He removed the
cruelly tight ropes from my wrists and immediately retied them - but
now he tied them firmly, not cruelly. Likewise, he retied my ankles
leaving a short length of rope between my legs. 

Then he put some type of ointment on the welts on my buttocks and
thighs, and whispered that he had something "special" in mind for
today. I tried to ask permission to speak, but he just shushed me,
perhaps knowing that my jaws would need a little more time to recover.


Helping me to my feet, he led me, hobbling, up the stairs to the
kitchen where he had a generous breakfast ready. He encouraged me to
eat and drink my fill, and even allowed me a semi- private "potty"
break. Then he instructed me to kneel in the proper slave position and
asked if I had anything I wanted to tell him. 

"Master," I said. "Your slave is very, very sorry for speaking out to
you. Your slave will never do it again, so please donít beat your
slave again, Master." 

Apparently this was the right thing to say, because he grinned broadly
and said Iíd learned my lesson very well. He then commanded me to get
up and led me into a bedroom in a part of the house I hadnít seen
before. Producing a scarf, he blindfolded me, and had me lie down on
the bed. He fastened my tied wrists to the head of the bed, and, after
cutting the rope between my ankles, tied them to opposite sides of the
foot of the bed so I lay spread wide. 

My immediate thought was "here it comes," because I suddenly realized
he hadnít raped me yet - even though thatís what I assumed this whole
abduction was all about. But even at that moment, with me tied down,
helpless and available, he continued to surprise me. Just as I was
preparing myself for a quick "wham- bam," I instead felt a gentle
sensation on my right nipple. He was licking my breast! 

He continued licking my nipple, and sucking on it, and nibbling on it
with his teeth. At the same time he was caressing my other breast and
stroking my hair with his hands. His mouth continued to work on both
breasts, and then up to my neck and face. He licked my lips and kissed
me long and deep, all the time kneading and pinching my breasts and
nipples. My breathing and pulse quickened and I realized I was
becoming aroused in spite of myself. He began tracing my lips with his
fingers and I found myself hungrily sucking on those fingers like I
used to suck on my boyfriendís cock in what seemed now like another
life. His other hand reached down to my clit and I heard him chuckle
to himself upon finding such a warm moist welcome to his strong firm
touch. But then he suddenly stopped. 

"Not quite so fast, my little vixen," he said, as he withdrew. 

"Uhhnn!" I moaned, as I thrust my hips around trying to find those
fingers. 

"Iíll be the one to decide if and when you cum. Today, youíre going to
learn a whole new meaning to the word Ďtorture.í" 

Before I could say anything, he placed a gag in my mouth. But instead
of a ball, this one consisted of a short penis- shaped plug attached
to a strap. Then he proceeded with his "torture," toying and teasing
every part of my body, coaxing me to a fever pitch, but never letting
me cum. Being blindfolded, I never saw exactly what he used that day.
One moment I would feel the soft tickling of a feather inside my
thighs, then a gentle scratching of sandpaper on my nipples. Sometimes
he filled me with a dildo, sometimes he used a vibrator on my clit,
and sometimes his own teeth and tongue. I felt ice cubes hardening my
nipples, and squealed in shock as hot wax fell on my breasts and
thighs. I know that several times it was his real hard hot cock that
entered my pussy, but with slow, shallow thrusts, only to withdraw
before I could gain satisfaction. 

I became delirious with desire, raw animal lust filling my entire
being. My consciousness was consumed by my unfulfilled need. I found
myself writhing madly in my bonds, screaming through my gag, begging
and pleading for release. I donít know how long he continued, but
eventually he mounted me one last time. His enormous throbbing cock
found its entry, while he grabbed my hair and, pulling my head back,
began thrusting, thrusting, faster and faster. I was screaming through
my gag, "Yes, yes! Fuck your slave. Fuck her!" 

And at last he was finished. I lay on the bed, a panting, sweating,
quivering heap of spent sexual energy. He softly caressed the length
of my body, while whispering what a good slave Iíd been. Then he
removed the gag and again asked if I had anything I wanted to tell
him. 

"Yes, Master," I gasped. "Thank you, Master. Your slave wants to be
tortured like that again! Please, Master, please keep torturing your
slave!" 

"Oh no, I think youíve had quite enough for today. But I want you to
learn from this lesson, as well as the one last night, Slave. Think
about the pain yesterday, and remember what a little slut youíve shown
yourself to be today." 

"Yes, Master. Your slave is horny slut. She's a bitch in heat, who
needs to be used, and serve her Master." 

"Excellent, Slave." 

And with that, he untied me from the bed and had to carry me back to
my cell, as my legs felt too weak to walk. He replaced the rope
bindings with the leather cuffs, and generous lengths of connecting
chains. I was allowed to eat dinner with him later that night, and
when he locked me in my cell for the last time that day, he kissed me,
wished me a good night, and said what a good slave I was going to be.
Thus I spent my third night as a madmanís slave, in a deep contented
and satisfied sleep.

 To contact the Author Please remove the _NS_
from the return address.

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