0 comments/ 16344 views/ 1 favorites Perfect Slave By: RavenBlood Written by Ericka Addison Hearing a voice in the darkness, I turn my head towards you. Bound by the chains, I worship the sweet pain you give. I hear the door close and the lock turns, sending a shudder of anticipation through me. Your boots tap lightly on the floor and I feel your breath on my skin. Your hands glide across the reddened trail you forged earlier, causing me to fight back a wince. I can't cry out. It would displease you. You increase the pressure and move around front. I see you smile as the tears leak from the corners of my eyes. "Does that hurt?" you ask. Like a good slave I reply without hesitation, "Yes Master." "Good. And you like it, don't you slut?" Again I answer, "Yes Master." I wasn't always this way, a slave whose greatest desire is to please her Master. If you told any of my friends about my life, they would say, "What?! Are you sure we're talking about the same chick? Ericka would never be into something like that." I lead a double life. Professional, focused, demanding English major by day, perfectly trained personal fuck-toy by night. I'd had my twentieth birthday a few months before and Master's twenty second was just around the corner. We had spoken online for about a year and a half with frequent phone calls in between chats. I finally got a chance to go to him and he took me in as soon as I arrived at the airport. The first thing he said to me was, "You will not fight, you will obey me, and you will continue to call me Master." I was ready for this and answered quickly, "Yes Master, I understand Master." I grabbed my bags and he showed me to the car. He opened the trunk and pulled out a set of police issue handcuffs. "Hands behind you." he growled. I set my bags on the ground and clasped my hands behind my back. I felt the cuffs tighten until they were just barely cutting into my wrists. He put my bags in the trunk and guided me to the door. After I was seated, he went to the driver's side and slipped into the car. I had expected a more eventful ride. I had actually hoped I might have the opportunity to taste him: A chance to show that I could satisfy my new Master as well as my own curiosity. I'm sure he knew that because he never even looked in my direction. That is, until I stepped out of line. I had never liked long periods of silence, and I figured this one had gone on long enough. Permitted or not, I was going to say something. "How much far..." and the first blow fell. He hit me so hard that my vision blurred and I could barely make out what he was saying. "Did I say that you could speak?" I sputtered, "Nnnno Master." "Then why did you?" "I'm sorry Master." Another blow. My world spun, but I recovered more quickly this time. "That is not what I asked for. I asked you why you spoke without permission. Now answer me whore. Why did you do it?" I faltered for a moment, not knowing the answer he wanted, but fearing if he were to strike again, my world would go completely black. "I wanted you to look at me" I mumbled. "What did you say?" he yelled, raising his hand to strike. I cried out in fear, "You wouldn't look at me. I just wanted you to look at me" His expression softened a little. Not much, but it was a small comfort to know that he had told the truth when we had spoken before. We met through a mutual friend in an instant message chat. We were all online and our friend thought we would get along famously. Little did he know it would lead to this. We hit it off great right from the start. We had the same tastes in books, music, science, and poetry. Oh God yes, the poetry. It impresses me to this day that such an aggressively dominant man like Master can make a string of words sound like a melody. We spoke of normal things until an innocent misunderstanding led to an in depth discussion on bondage. We spoke on the topic enough that we discovered we were nearly a perfect match. He was a bit too violent for my liking, and I was a smart assed rule breaker. Otherwise, we were like the last two pieces of a puzzle. You know where they belong; you just need to add a bit of pressure before they click into place. That little bit of pressure ended up being one of our last conversations before my trip. We had spoken of pain, and my liking for it, but he had never addressed the matter in terms of what I could withstand. When asked, I explained that I had an extremely high tolerance for pain. "I'm one of those people who can be thrown from horseback while racing, receive a concussion, sprained ankle, and a neck brace, and still make the trek to the University for classes the next day." I said with a laugh. He was quite pleased, knowing that, although I did not like the extent of his violence, I could take it. He said that if he ever did break that threshold, I was to let him know. That bit of kindness has never been of much use as I am also unbelievable stubborn. Though it has grown higher over time, he still reaches that threshold on occasion, sending me spiraling into darkness. I find myself waking to feel the chains remover and his arms wrapped around me, holding me close. Master is very kind in that he allows me to live a life that feels mostly normal to me. I attend classes to reach my dream of becoming a writer. I spend time with my friends, though always accompanied by Master. He even allows me to use his given name. David. It's a grand name isn't it? A good strong name right? Wrong. That name is just a mask. The slight smirk, soft touch, and warm laugh are all real, but his name is not David. Not to me. It still feels so foreign to call him something that does not show, in the name itself, that I am his, but he insisted. When he decided that I should go back to school, I was stunned. That meant going back into the world. A world that knew nothing of what we had. I was terrified, and he knew it. He slowly coaxed me back into the 'real' world where he had a double life, just as I would. It took time, but at some point, he knew I was ready. I applied, and was accepted into a nearby college and my double life began for real: Ericka Addison by day, and a menagerie of terms by night. Even now, there are times, when he knows I am too exhausted to reply, that he whispers softly in my ear, "How did I find you, my perfect slave?" Then he pulls me close and we drift into a peaceful sleep, each dreaming of the other. Perfect Slave The perfect Slave Denise really was the perfect slave. The level of submission and compliance was far beyond that of any I had experienced before and I have been training slaves for a long time. The golden rule is establishing a safe word at the very beginning. It can be anything that wouldn't be used in the context of sex so a word like "apricot" is good. Denise had never used her word even though I had taken her to extremes of torment. Never once had she complained when my whip slashed at her skin, raising deep red welts across her tits and buttocks. Using a speculum on her hadn't fazed her at all. She seemed to relish the harsh slap of the paddle and had never once resisted the pinch of her manacles. Taking her to the precipice of orgasm, only to be denied the pleasure, never once brought forth a word of complaint. Even when she had been passed over to the ministrations of other Dom's in the club, had she mentioned her safe word and they all knew it before being given free access to her body. Even the extreme of electro-stimulation produced nothing more than the twitch of her muscles where the clamps bit into her pussy lips and the current passed through them. Denise would be waiting for me when I returned home from work, kneeling just inside the front door, with her knees apart as she had been trained to do, wrists locked together, in manacles, behind her back and her rhinestone or steel choker on. Her head would be held high, her back straight. She would be naked and ready to do my bidding and eager to please me. No hole was out of bounds with Denise. She would have me in her ass just as easily as her cunt or mouth. She didn't seem to mind if my seed filled any of those orifices, or spilled out over her chest, back or face or between her toes, just grateful for the attention. She would sit all day, chained to the bed or the banister, waiting for my return. As long as she had a chamber pot and some bottled water, Denise would be in the same place that I had left her, even though she could activate the release of her manacles. If I set her to do the cleaning, then I could be certain she would have polished every surface, naked as I insisted and, if by some miracle, she had missed a spot, for I would check thoroughly, she would run to fetch a paddle or whip, accept her punishment silently and then do the thing she had missed, with the redness of her punishment fading on her skin. She didn't even use the safe word when I strapped her to the railings of our balcony at the hotel we stayed in, on holiday, in Cyprus, even though everyone who passed by, could see her nakedness, see clearly, her sex held open, spread as she was by the ties. Not a sound escaped her as I whipped her ass in full view of those total strangers, not a tear, nothing, only a renewed eagerness to make me happy when I released her. I had not reached her boundaries in the eighteen months she had been with me. I am sure she had them, but I had not found them as yet and I wasn't sure I wanted to go very much further in searching for them. Perhaps my boundaries were narrower than hers. I left her with a leash on, tied to an eyebolt in the wall in the kitchen. Her instruction for the day was to defrost the fridge and prepare dinner for that evening. The leash, attached to her iron neck ring, was long enough to give her complete movement around the kitchen, but nowhere else. She would be naked, her natural condition, with the exception of an apron so that she didn't burn herself. I left for work, shutting the front door after slapping her ass and leaving a red mark that would gradually fade. Thank you Master was all she said as the door clicked shut. Later that day, I was having my customary latte in Starbucks while I read the paper. As usual, it was busy and seats were hard to come by. Suddenly, a nudge on my elbow from behind, knocked the whole steaming cup full of coffee into my lap, more importantly, over my crotch. The hot liquid reached my cock almost straight away. I had to jump up to pull the wet fabric away so I wasn't scalded. "I am most dreadfully sorry" She was stunningly beautiful, even more so that she was blushing in embarrassment. "Please, let me get you another." And then she looked at my hand, frantically holding the steaming hot fabric away from my groin. She laughed and it was pure music to hear. "It's okay." I heard myself say. "Well can I help in any way?" She managed to ask as she stifled her giggles. I couldn't help it, I laughed to, knowing how silly it looked, with me hopping from foot to foot, clutching my flies like they were on fire. "Alice." She held her hand out. "Um... Robert... pleased to meet you." I couldn't shake hands right at that moment. I still had the cup in one and my trousers in the other. "Please let me buy you another coffee." I declined, but took the opportunity to look her over. Her beauty was more than just her face. Her body was in great shape. Neither too large, in the areas that matter to a man, nor too small either. Proportionally, she was perfect, with auburn hair and freckles on her shoulders. My cock hardened in its wet haven. I have long been a sucker for freckles. "Well let me make it up to you in some way. Why don't I buy you dinner? In fact, why don't I make dinner for you later? What are you doing tonight?" I found myself accepting her invitation, already anticipating the date. She gave me her card with her address scribbled on the back and left me with a smile as she turned towards the door. "Make it nine she said over her shoulder." She paused and then asked, "Is there anything you don't like?" "No, I'm easy. Bye" I waved and then she was gone. Denise had cleaned up, the fridge gleamed and something smelled really good on the cooker. Suddenly, in her presence, I felt guilty, which was completely irrational. Surely, as the Master, it was my prerogative to do as I pleased and, if that meant pleasuring another woman, then so be it. Somehow, I wasn't convincing myself. Later, once dinner had been eaten and she had cleaned up, I took her to the bedroom and manacled her wrists to the bedstead. Although I felt guilt, I was determined to meet Alice tonight, knowing that a meal was not really the offer. I told Denise that I had to go out on business and would likely be some time. She said, "Yes Master" and looked up at me... trusting, a stab of guilt, almost had me change my plans. I found Alice's apartment block easily, being in the fashionable part, in centre of town. The concierge opened the door for me as if I were expected, and directed me to the lift. She was waiting for me as I stepped out of the lift. Her plain, figure hugging red dress was framed in the entrance door of her apartment. She had let her hair down, the light from behind gave her a halo effect and also a shadowy outline between her legs as it weakly leached through the fabric. My assumption was correct, dinner wasn't really the offer. As soon as the door clicked shut, we tore at each others clothing like children with Christmas presents. Before more than a few minutes had passed, we were completely naked, on top of her bed, mouths stuck together, while hands searched and tried to gain as much information as possible, as quickly as possible. Nowhere was left unexplored, tits, back stomach and pussy were all subjected to my questing fingers. Her nipples pressed against the palm of my hand, suffused and aroused. Her clit, protruded from its hooded enclave to meet pinching fingers, producing excited shivers from Alice. She in turn, had my raging cock in her fist, pumping and smearing my pre-cum over the purple headed gland. Then her cunt was creaming, filling my mouth once we had changed positions. She came copiously, coating my tongue and chin with her essence as she in turn, was swallowing my cock, cramming it in until her nose was hard up against my anus. It was a desperately heady session. Our breathing was snatched between filling our mouth with each other, hearts raced and banged. She was astride me, pinioning her self on my rod, driving me deeply into her body. Then, she was below me, her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me into her with an urgency. And, then I was filling her cunt from behind, ramming myself against her buttocks that rippled slightly from the shock force of my thrusts. She dripped and dribbled and covered me with her sweet smelling cream until that moment of climax, when it all comes crashing down to the last few thrusts as my semen pumped, unseen, into her body. We fell, exhausted, clasping each other, onto the bed. Alice was asleep in seconds, but couldn't drift off. Instead, after perhaps an hour, I gently extricated myself from her clutches and quietly searched for my clothes, aware of the smell of her sex and my spunk as it dried on my skin. I left Alice snoring at around two in the morning and returned home, hoping that Denise would be asleep. She wasn't. I suppose she heard the key in the lock. She was kneeling on the bed as she had been taught, knees apart, head up, back straight and her hands clasped behind her. Her steady gaze tore right through me, leaving me bereft of words and a hard lump in my throat. Making an excuse, I showered, removing the stink of Alice' and my combined juices from me. Then I came back to Denise who was still kneeling, waiting patiently, trusting and completely ready for my pleasure. I wanted to hit her suddenly. Really beat her until she bled or was unconscious. It was a completely irrational rage that raced around and so help me, I even had my hand raised to smack her face with as much force as I could muster. As suddenly as the rage came, it went. One look into her unflinching eyes killed it, snuffed it out as a candle flame. I took her manacles off, freeing her. She looked quizzically at me, but didn't question my actions. Then I laid her down on her back. Denise's eyes followed my every movement, uncertainty obvious by the slight frown of her eye brows. I laid down along side her and cupped a breast, rubbing a nipple with a thumb pad, feeling it harden and respond. I made love to Denise that night. Made love in a way we had never before, gently, as equals, sensuously and satisfyingly. We slept in each others arms, sated and replete, but just before sleep over came me, I heard her say softly, I knew you would come back to me. It is you who really are the slave. She is right. I am a slave to her love and always will be.