1 comments/ 4610 views/ 1 favorites The Janus Trap By: Justrex The huge desk taking up most of the floor space in his office was one of a kind. Constructed mostly of Carpathian Elm and Ebony, it had cost him somewhere in the neighborhood of two hundred thousand. The ergonomically designed chair he sat in was covered with fine smooth black calfskin that both cradled and supported his body in comfort and in style. That had set him back almost ten grand alone. The computer where he sat idly scrolling through web pages was a top of the line machine he'd had custom built. Another ten grand. Looking around the room, Joshua Michael Halyard was satisfied with this portion of his life. His office, like most of his house, was finely appointed with expensive woodwork and antiques that had caught his eye. And books, of course. He had a love of actual bound books. Unlike most of the people of his generation he had never succumbed to the lure of electronic reading. He preferred having and actual bound book in his hands when he read for pleasure. He loved the feel and smell of paper and ink and the tactile pleasure of turning actual pages as his eyes consumed the words printed upon them. Three walls of his private office were floor to ceiling bookshelves piled full of rare and first edition books by all of his favorite authors. The last insurance audit had placed the value of his books alone at five million dollars. Not as much as some of the professional "collectors" but more than enough for his own personal library. In pursuit of his own personal gratification and to flaunt his new status, Joshua had laid out over fifty million dollars in purchasing, remodeling and furnishing to his tastes the old four story brownstone on W. 35th street in New York City. The upkeep of the house and the salaries for his staff cost him a quarter of a million dollars a year. And let's not even talk about taxes. There were accountants for all of that. He paid them enough each year not to be bothered with the details. The woman in the office with him at the moment had cost him nothing at all. Not a thin dime. As a matter of fact, she had transferred her usual ten thousand dollar fee to his account before she was even allowed in the door. Millions of adoring fans all over the world knew her face and her name. Posters of her in tight clothes and negligee adorned the walls of adolescent boys the world over. All of her movies were blockbusters and the paparazzi swarmed wherever she went. She was only seen in the "best" places, usually on the arm of one or another hot and upcoming Hollywood stud or billionaire CEO. There had to be at least eight figures in any movie contract before her agent would even show her the script. She was, at this point in her career, a brand unto herself and at the top of her game. If her adoring public could only see her now... That elegant red hair which was always seen so perfectly coiffured was disheveled and limp with sweat, adhering to her forehead and trailing over her shoulders and back. Not a speck of makeup could be seen anywhere on her face, something that she would never have allowed in the public eye. Those elegant green eyes were red and bloodshot, the lids above and below puffy and wet with tears. Close to a hundred grand in jewelry and another ten in designer clothing lay stuffed in a locker down in his basement. She was such a good customer that he had graciously put her name on the locker for her. It was the least he could do. That sweet little body... The body that made tens of millions of males hard and almost as many females wet... The body she spent millions on with gym equipment and personal trainers and yoga instructors and cosmetic surgeons... it was a sight to see. The girl was naked except for a plain leather collar around her neck. A simple chain leash dangled from the collar down to the floor. Abrasions around her wrists and ankles showed evidence of her having been restrained. Even though he used soft restraints for her to keep the damage to a minimum, she always fought back and struggled, injuring that fine skin however slightly. She was, after all, an action movie kind of girl and quite strong for her frame. There wasn't much of that exquisite skin which wasn't marked in one way or another. Even her beautiful face bore the imprints of his fingers where he had slapped her. Something no man in her life had ever done except if it was written into the script. Looking down her body, Joshua could catalog and identify each of the red marks and small bruises on her skin. Even the order they had occurred. The general redness of the flogger. The small red kisses from the clothespins and clips which made little tracks all the way down her body. The rectangular imprints from the crop. The circular signature of the paddle laid over with the longer stripes from the leather tawse. And of course the long angry red welts from the whip. He didn't care that much for the whip himself but she begged him for it each and every time. As much as he didn't like using the whip, he did so love listening to her beg and plead for more. Then there were the marks that weren't quite so evident without a much closer and personal inspection. If a doctor were to examine her he would most likely come to the conclusion that she was the victim of a particularly vicious rape. Patches of her scalp were red and traumatized from where he had pulled her hair. Small bruises on her neck and shoulders showed the size of his fingertips and the length of his fingers. Both her vulva and anus were raw and swollen, showing signs of multiple penetrations with objects of various sizes. Her body chemistry would reveal signs of exhaustion and slight dehydration. She was in heaven. Even though a good portion of her body was radiating waves of pain in varying degrees, the endorphins rushing throughout her system were disguising the aches with the twinges and little sparks of a slowly fading sexual bliss. That was why she came to Joshua, of course. None of the pretty boy actors or sports figures she occasionally shared her bed with had ever given her as deep an ecstasy as one visit to his basement wonderland. After the first session she'd been hooked. So much so he had been forced to limit her visits to once every three months. Longer if she was away filming a new movie. Once she had offered him first one hundred thousand, then two, then five, to fly to California and stay with her while she was working. Knowing that was impossible, he naturally declined. With him, she was not going to get her way. No matter what. So now she was in the final act of their sessions. Naked and bruised wearing nothing but a collar and a leash, swollen knees pressed into the hardwood floor. Those million dollar eyes begging him for what she wanted. What she needed so very badly. Her hands and lips working on him in desperation, every inch of her body pleading with him for this last boon. The one last thing that no other man had ever done to her in her life. Rather that she had never allowed another man to do to her. Naturally it was the one thing he demanded each and every time. "Mmmm..." He murmured. "Yes, girl. Such a good slave." Joshua lifted his hips and shot his seed into her throat. "Swallow it all, girl. Don't lose a drop." Breathing deeply through her nose, she dutifully swallowed his come over and over again as she had been directed. The final act of humiliation and submission that always ended their sessions. For her, it was as if he had flipped a light switch. As soon as he trickled to a stop and began to go soft in her mouth, her eyelids began to droop. Moments later his member slipped from her lips and she softly toppled to the floor, asleep in seconds. Sighing, Joshua zipped up his pants and pressed a button under the edge of his desk as he stood. Once he left the room his servants would slip in and take the unconscious girl back down to the basement dressing rooms. There they would wash her and tend to her abrasions and get her dressed again in her clothes and carry her out to place her in the back seat of her waiting limo which had been summoned when he pushed the bell. In six or eight or ten hours from now she would arrive in Aspen or Switzerland or Tuscany on a "sabbatical" for a few weeks while she healed and rested and studied the script for her next film. He always thought that his sessions gave her new energy in her movies. She always seemed so vibrant and alive... While the servants were tending to that one, Joshua ensured the digital recordings got stored in his secure server in the basement vault. Each and every recording of each and every client was filmed from several different angles from beginning to end and stored in his server. Not for the purposes of blackmail. He was making more than enough money as it was. For his own protection in case one of his clients tried to cover their activities by falsely accusing him of assault. After all, that sweet body he had so brutalized was insured by the studios for millions. If she was unable to fulfill a contract due to injuries at his hands any court in the world would agree she had sustained them willingly. And paid him handsomely for his time and effort to boot. He was covered. Then it was off to the shower and bed. Ten hours at a thousand dollars an hour was good money and good fun, but it was still almost as exhausting for him as it had been for her. It was a good thing she only came by every three months. One The internet. Boon to some and bane to others. Fortunes rose and fell through it's real and virtual connections each day. Pundits, politicians and plain folks debated it's utility and publicly abhorred it's seamy underside while making use of it to do so. Not one of them even acknowledged the hypocrisy of their actions. To a young Josh Halyard, twenty years old and living on his own for the first time, the internet was a treasure trove. A treasure trove of treasure maps, each leading to more and more. When he wasn't working, Josh buried himself in the internet, diving deep into things that drove his imagination and wonder. Many of the things he researched, like many millions of others his age, were the things which drove his sexual fantasies. The world wide web was there waiting to welcome him with open arms. As long as he could remember, Josh was fascinated with bondage. When he was young, bondage was the only word he knew to describe his fantasies. Then he discovered S/M. Then BDSM. Then B/D and D/s and all of the permutations in between. So many flavors to choose from, it was a bit intimidating. When he was young and he pondered on his sexual proclivities, he would think "I'm a weirdo." Then as he began to dive into the strange world he had chosen to abide in his impression changed. Now he thought "I'm not really all that weird. Tons and tons of people do this stuff. Most of them just don't publicly admit to it." And he wondered "How many beds in this world have a pair of handcuffs hiding underneath? How many nightstands contain rope and blindfolds and those cheap leather whips? Millions?" Multiples of millions, as it turned out. All of them seeking more titillation for their private little kinks. Erotica. The literary bent. It was what grabbed him and kept Joshua the most intrigued. While pictures on those porn sites were sometimes titillating, the pictures in his mind were so much sharper and more exciting. A well written story could keep him entertained for hours. In keeping with his tactile love of the printed word he had spend the best portion of an entire paycheck on the best and fastest printer he could find, several cases of paper and a small binding machine so he could keep his favorite tales always on hand, even when he wasn't online. What dismayed him was wading through the piles and piles of trash to find those small gems which so fit his needs. Hundreds and hundreds of stories were scanned and discarded and Joshua's frustration often reached the breaking point. Several times he had walked away from his computer in disgust, vowing to never again wade in the cesspools of the internet. But like any addict, he always returned. Wanting more. And more. Interlude One Dog was in pain. In several places. So much pain which caused whimpers of distress to leak unheeded from it's lips. Dog was in heaven. The Trainer was what the device was referred as by Dog's Owner. A metal frame on the floor with steel cuffs locked around Dog's wrists and ankles, keeping it on knees and elbows. A bar with a wide pad came up in the middle, pressing into it's lower belly, keeping Dog's bottom up in the air. Another bar came up with a steel shackle which was always locked around Dog's neck. The Trainer kept it from wiggling around too much when Owner wanted to give it some special attention. Dog spent quite a lot of time in The Trainer. Dog was an "It." Dog had no assigned gender, even though Dog was anatomically male. Those bits which defined it's gender by societal agreement were always kept locked away in a cramped little steel device held shut with a padlock which caused Dog quite a bit of discomfort when those bits began to swell and try to reassert Dog's discarded masculinity. On occasion those bits oozed dribbles of Dog's joy on the floor. For those indiscretions it was always severely punished. Dog existed only for Owner's pleasure, not it's own. Dog was in heaven. Two Slowly, Joshua Halyard began to write. He'd despaired so many times of finding stories by others which hit that right spot. If there was one part or one certain scene which did make his blood pressure rise, they were almost always accompanied by something which made him recoil and say "Oooohhh... Ick. No." Some additional twist in the author's psyche which absolutely did not make Joshua happy. So... he began to write his own flavors. They tended to taste better. So many places, both to read and to write. He finally settled on one of the more well known sites and began publishing his own short little tales, written in his own style. They were well received and he got compliments, which fed his ego. He ventured this way and that, trying out different things in his writing. Some of those things stirred his libido in ways startling to him. So he tried more new things and look for more ideas. Research took up so much of his free time. Joshua corresponded with Doms, Dommes, Dominants, Dominatrices, Masters, Owners, Sir's and Ma'ams. He wrote to pets, puppies, ponies, kittens, littles, pigs, submissives, slaves and... things. Of all types, stripes, genders, cross, trans, bi, tri, ambi and those who claimed to be nothing at all. All in the pursuit of more fodder for his writing. To give it more flavor. The copious notes he kept in both his computer and countless notepads scattered around his apartment, if organized into a coherent system, would have made an impressive compendium of the BDSM community in general. But then writing reference books wasn't his thing, so it never crossed his mind until much later on in his life. When he wasn't working, he was working. Joshua wrote and wrote and wrote story after story until he began to achieve a bit of notoriety on the site where he published. Readers began waiting greedily for each new tale, grabbing them up as soon as they were posted and demanding more. They wanted sequels and back stories and more details about this character and that one and more and more and more. Eventually some of his fans began asking "Who are you? Where do you live? Can I meet you?" Fortunately he'd been smart enough when he started not to publish under his real name. While nothing he was doing ever smacked of illegal in any sense, it was deemed unsavory by the public in general and if he'd been discovered he would have been looking for another job rather quickly. In public people tended to be rather stuffy. Even if his employer had been a fan of his writing he never would have admitted it out loud and would have made a show of "letting him go for his own good and for the good of the company's image." So in his own defense he reinvented himself and an entire biography. He invented the town of Bay City, Oregon and described the sleepy little beachfront community as his base of operations. That kept the curious at bay, though apparently some few had actually gone looking. Really... Three Fame... or even just infamy, depending on how you looked at it, carried a heavy price. The brownstone in Manhattan was closer to Hell's Kitchen than Murray Hill to be in the "posher" part of the city but nonetheless it was purchased under the name of a dummy corporation and buried under several different accounts to keep his name off of the title and out of the hands of the press. In the years he had lived there, Joshua Halyard had never once entered or exited through the front door. In a reversal of the accepted roles of the rich, only his servants came and went through the front door while Joshua and his "clients" used the rear entrance exclusively. Even then they all tended to use umbrellas of heavy coats or even disguises when ducking in and out to avoid prying eyes. It was often tiring, but necessary. Even his name was no longer his own. Of course he could go into any store or eatery dressed in jeans and a t-shirt as Joshua Halyard and nobody would even look twice. The people who "knew" Joshua Halyard were many years and many many miles in the past. Though he could do what he wished as himself with impunity, he preferred not to risk it. If he wanted something, he sent someone for it. If someone wanted to see him who wasn't on his very exclusive list of clients, he saw them somewhere else. Those people never wanted to see Joshua Michael Halyard anyway. They wanted to meet the famous Jax Greyfox, author of the widely acclaimed "Sculpted" series of BDSM novels which had burst onto the literary scene and taken the world by storm. For his transformation he had invented a persona. All in black, of course, as was fitting. A silk suit which was so deeply black it seemed to suck the light from any room. A long ebony walking stick with a silver tip and ravening wolf's head clasped in his hand. Sharply raked black felt fedora and glasses so dark one could never tell where he was looking, even if you dared to peer up into the shadows under the brim of his hat. Like any celebrity, people wanted to meet him for various reasons. They wanted to know his life story and learn all the fascinating little tidbits of his character which so engrossed the general public. For that he gave them bits of his invented biography which he stuck to religiously, even though everybody already knew his home town was a fiction. They wanted to know where he got his ideas and anecdotes from his experiences in the odd and dark world of BDSM. In response to which he gave them recollections from his research. Stuff anybody who bothered to look could find for themselves if they weren't lazy. Some of them... Some of them wanted a more... personal view of his world. There was the occasional one who came and knelt at his feet and begged to be His. All ages and all sexes and a few in between and all walks of life. There were those who would not be satisfied with just reading his words. Some experienced in one way or another with the fetish world and few complete beginners. Those who managed to make it past the maze of private secretaries, assistants, business managers and lawyers always deserved at least a little bit of consideration. Maybe one out of a hundred would be added to his client list. For the others, he always had a list of professionals all over the country and the world who were willing to pick up his slack. Rarely was anyone left unsatisfied, in one way or another. The Janus Trap Take these three for example... Even though he was in his early sixties, the man was in pretty good shape for his age. He worked out regularly and took good care of himself and there was only the slightest hint of the sag of time in his skin. He had a full head of steel gray hair kept neatly trimmed. His square jaw and movie star looks still made the women's hearts flutter when he spoke. He was a mover and shaker in his corner of the world who got things done. He fancied himself a leader of men and when he spoke people listened. Except for his monthly visits to Joshua's basement rooms. The platform the man knelt on was five feet square. The center had thin padding covered with leather. The outside edge was lined with rings every six inches as attachment points. His strong wrists and ankles were tightly restrained in steel shackles connected to thick chains leading to the four corners, only allowing him about six inches of movement in any direction. The lower part of that handsome face was covered by a leather mask which went from the bridge of his nose to under his chin. Slits in the leather allowed him to breathe through his nose. A plastic tube about six inches around was inserted two inches into his mouth, keeping his jaws open wide. The opening of the tube was blocked by a rubber plug attached by a small chain to the lower part of the mask. Restrained. Mute. Powerless. All he could do was watch. And want. They knew what he wanted so they made damn well sure he could see clearly. The other two, in contrast, were quite young. Completely legal, of course. One was nineteen and the other twenty. Joshua always had color copies of their identity papers on file before they were ever even allowed in the house. They were both fit and trim and quite pretty if you were into that sort of thing, with dark hair and eyes and slightly olive skin. And, of course, the vigor of youth. One lay face down on the padded floor with his butt stuck invitingly up in the air while the other knelt behind him, slowly feeding his young thick prick into the others tight ass. They both groaned in pleasure as he went deeper and deeper. "Ah fuck Manolito... Mmmm yes... Fuck me." He turned his head to look at the restrained older man. "Make the old bastard watch." The other gripped his hips hard and thrust the last inch of his prick inside, rubbing his belly against his partner's firm little ass cheeks. "Mmmm yes, Dominic..." He panted. "I just love fucking your sweet little ass. I won't let him have you like I have you. No pretty little boy ass for him. He can just fucking watch... Aaaahhh..." He began thrusting his prick in and out while the other boy groaned and sighed. A whimper of desire leaked out from behind the leather mask and the rubber plug. Those bright blue eyes scarcely even blinked as he took in each and every second of the scene unfolding right in front of him. The muscles in his hips flexed ever so slightly and beneath his body he was completely erect. While the entire scene was being recorded by the cameras built into the corners as always, the little vignette in the center of the room was surrounded by six more video cameras standing blatantly on tripods. One of Joshua's servants also walked around the room with another on his shoulder like a news cameraman at an auto accident, filming from all angles. It looked for all intents and purposes as if they were filming a porn movie. None of the footage would ever see the light of day, naturally. For the three players involved just knowing such film existed was more than enough. Dominic cried out over and over again while the other young man drove into his ass hard and fast. The deep grunts coming from Manolito's chest laid down a bass line and the frantic slap-slap-slap of flesh against flesh was the rhythm to Dominic's chorus of delight. But the main verses came from the older man who moaned and whined a sad yet appreciative ballad of love. At the last possible moment the man on top pulled out of his panting partner, hand moving up and down his shaft as he stood. His entire body was taut and he jacked his cock frantically then with a groan began spewing thick ribbons of come all over the restrained man's back. Dominic likewise rose and stroked his own prick until he shot his own load all over the man's face. He didn't even blink at first, though it must have stung as at least one salvo landed in the corner of his eye. His hips flexed and his own member began leaking his own contribution to the sticky mess on the platform. There was already quite the puddle beneath him for it wasn't the first time during the session he'd reached orgasm. His body was spattered all over with the residue from his two partners since neither of them had come without spraying it all over him. Or inside of him. There was seminal fluid leaking from his asshole and drying on his sack and cheeks. Both young men had taken him roughly that way at least once and the rubber plug in his mouth was slick and salty with the same fluids since he'd been unable to swallow with his jaws held open by the tube. Between the three of them they had managed to make quite a mess in his room. The servants who did the cleaning were going to need a bonus for this one, probably. The reek of sex made Joshua's nose twitch. It was thick enough to cut with a knife. Personally, he was glad this session was over. These monthly games bored him slightly as he had nothing really to do. He'd been sitting in his chair watching for three hours. They had never once required or even needed him to participate. All they wanted for him was to observe. All they required was an audience. And a place to play, of course. For the money they were paying, he was happy to oblige, even if it was boring. There was no need to press a button this time to signal the end of the session. He just rose from his seat and left the room without a word. The cameraman was part of Joshua's cleanup and after care crew and his partner was waiting behind one of the doors to direct them to the showers. They would get cleaned up and dressed and ushered out the back to waiting cars and back to their outside lives. None of them would ever see or even speak to any of the others until they met again the following month. Manolito would get up in the morning and go back to the shoe store where he worked. Provide for his wife and their infant daughter. Dominic would attend classes as a journalism student. Take his girlfriend out for pizza now and then. And John would go back to his congregation. Tending to the souls of his flock and occasionally denouncing the sinners and the pornographers of this great city. He'd even preached a rousing sermon against Joshua and the popularity of his books, calling them "A pernicious blight on the souls of mankind." He didn't take it personally. John always paid in cash. Interlude Two Dog knelt on the floor and wagged. Dog was happy and allowed itself a bit of pride as it had satisfied Owner well with it's body. In Dog's mind and heart Owner was a God. The sole reason for Dog's existence. It gazed upon Owner's face in rapture, feeling it's heart swell with love and adoration. Of course the leather mask covering it's face didn't allow Dog to see out of both eyes at the same time so it turned it's head from side to side. The slight movement made the springy rubber tail attached to the plug in Dog's butt to wag back and forth, sending little waves of pleasure up and down it's nervous system. Dog was assured of it's place in the universe. It fully understood down to the very core of it's being why it was placed on this world. Dressed in it's mask, collar, harness, tail and boots, Dog was the most contented creature on the planet. It knew what was required of it at all times. It's life was defined by rituals and schedules and strict rules Dog was to always follow. As always, there was a little bit of pain here and there. Dog's body was pink and mottled red with abrasions and welts. There were even a few bite marks lingering here and there. Owner tended to bite in passion when Dog was especially good at it's job. There was one in particular at the back of Dog's neck which stung even now. The slow motion back and forth as Dog looked out the holes of it's mask kept the sting alive and fresh while easing it just slightly. The wagging of it's tail also helped. Dog reveled in the pain as a sign of Owner's love. Dog accepted Owner's punishments as it's due and tried it's best to learn to be a better pet for Owner. For Dog, there would be none other than Owner. Owner was intelligent and successful. Owner was a published author with a band of loyal readers who hung on Owner's every word. Owner knew how to bring Dog to the heights of ecstasy with a touch or a word or a gesture. Owner was the brightest star and the most beautiful person Dog had ever encountered. Owner was what Dog had been looking for it's whole life. Dog was in love. Dog sat by Owner's chair and wagged it's tail. Four If you could bring yourself to call him a hero, The Artist was the hero in the "Sculpted" books by Jax Greyfox. If more accurate descriptions were called for, he was a high-functioning sociopath with hyper-sexuality and delusions of grandeur combined with an ego which always demanded to be fed. His bronze sculptures were always lauded by the critics as being the most evocative they had ever seen. The faces and expressions and bodies all portrayed The Artist's favorite themes, which were generally pain, passion, ecstasy and unbridled lust. Or any combination thereof. What neither the art world nor his customers knew was that for every five or six sculptures The Artist produced a new person disappeared from the streets of New Orleans, never to be seen again. When he purchased the long-abandoned monastery to be his studio, The Artist had discovered the network of tunnels excavated under the abbey a century ago. Used back then as storage for the monks, the stone rooms and tunnels became home for The Artists unlucky models. He kept them handy both for their physical forms to copy and to feed his twisted sexual desires. It was The Artist's desires for pain and severe forms of bondage which made the faces on his sculptures so exquisite and realistic. The first book had been put out in the world just to see if there would be any interest at all. To Joshua's immense surprise and delight it caught on and "went viral" through word of mouth and over the internet and the first printing went quickly out of stock. Even digital copies were selling at a phenomenal rate. A movie deal was discussed inside of the first year. He cashed the first royalty check and hired an attorney. He rolled up his sleeves and went back to work, producing one more volume each year for the following three years. Interest never waned and the money kept rolling in. He bought the house and hired the staff, at first in the interests of his own comfort. Suddenly everybody was talking about Jax Greyfox. They all wanted to see him and speak to him and hear his words and they speculated on his life and his tastes and who he was seeing and what he was wearing and where he was eating. Quite a few more of them wanted to get a taste of his world, even though for Joshua it was completely fictional. He'd never once even tied up a partner during sex and had absolutely no actual hands-on experience with BDSM. It didn't help any when he would say "I am not The Artist." They thought he was just being picky. And those few began to grow insistent. In response Joshua took two year's vacation, away from the city and the fans and the writing. He traveled to Tokyo and Bangkok and London, Paris and San Francisco. Using Jax Greyfox's money and influence but his real name, he apprenticed himself to as many professional Dominants as he could find, learning the craft and perfecting his techniques. When he returned he began remodeling the brownstone and hiring more staff and writing. "Weeping Angels" was the fifth and final book in the "Sculpted" series. It was acclaimed as his finest work ever and the first check from the publisher was in the tens of millions. His very first paying client was a certain redheaded action movie star who gave him much needed experience while fattening his bank account all the while. Her fees alone had repaid all of the money he had spent remodeling the basement into his private playground. Now he was in hot demand not only as a writer but as a professional Dominant as well. It was a role Joshua had never quite expected. In public he still said "I am not The Artist." Though nobody believed him. While in private and only to himself he also said "I am not Jax Greyfox, either." But there was nobody there to listen. Five The girls name was Dusty, of all things. Kind of a tomboyish name, but then Dusty was kind of a tomboyish girl. The youngest child in a family with five older brothers she had learned from an early age to run and play hard and fast if she wanted any space or any respect at all from her older siblings. She'd grown up to be strong, self assured and fearless. A girl who had excelled at anything and everything she had put her mind to. Class valedictorian. Cheerleader. Softball, volleyball and lacrosse. Always courageous. Never looking back. Always moving forward. One year ago she had begun a new adventure in her life as the new bride of a freshly drafted pro quarterback whom she had met and fallen in love with their first year of college. It had been a whirlwind romance which had swept Dusty off of her feet and left her dazed but happier than she had ever been in her life. She vowed with all of her heart to do anything to keep her new husband happy. But this... She wasn't so sure about this. For the first time in her life Dusty McClure was frightened and uncertain and was seriously considering running away. From her perfect life and her perfect husband and definitely from this. Even if Jeremy's favorite secret fantasy was owning a trained slave who would serve him in any and every way he wished. Perhaps she'd gone a little too far in her quest to please her husband. One month, he'd said. One month and two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Jeremy and Dusty had looked at each other, searching their hearts while her hands clutched his on the sofa of their hotel room. She couldn't believe they were actually talking to him... She couldn't believe they were actually going through with this. "We don't have to do this, D..." Jeremy was always so gallant. "I will love you no matter what." She squeezed his fingers nervously. "I want to make your dreams come true, J. All of them." Dusty tried hard to sound braver than she really felt at the moment. On the table in front of them was a lengthy contract. It was several pages long and basically stated they agreed Dusty was going to belong, body and soul, to Jax Greyfox for the period of one month and that they allowed him to do anything he wished to her for that period as long as it did not involve any kind of permanent or disfiguring injury or death. In return aforementioned Jax Greyfox agreed to spent the period of one month training her to be the perfect submissive for her husband, able to serve and please him in any way he wished. Of course it wasn't really as simple as all of that. Before they were even allowed to meet the man himself both of them had spent several sessions over the period of a few weeks with a psychologist on his payroll. Through a series of interviews and some hypnotherapy they had spilled all of their deepest fantasies, fears and desires. A rather thick report was submitted. It seemed they had passed. It should have been a good thing. Dusty was going forward with this to make her husband's dreams come true. So why was she so frightened? Her hand shook as she signed her portion of the contract. It gave her a little bit of satisfaction to see Jeremy fumble a little as he signed above her name and filled out the check. Her strong and handsome quarterback husband was trembling slightly, teetering on the edge of nervous excitement. She could see he was also about half hard. That long thick tool of his which had given her so much pleasure was twitching on the inside of his thigh through the thin material of his flannel pants. As kind of a preview of what was to come, they had been given very specific instructions before Mr. Greyfox arrived. None of their personal possessions were to be in the room when he arrived. The only item allowed was their checkbook and a pen. Both of them were to be wearing flannel pajama pants and white t-shirts with absolutely nothing underneath. Tennis shoes and white socks. They were not allowed to have sex for 24 hours before their appointment, which they thought was cruel and unusual. The both of them were so edgy by the whole thing it would have helped greatly to calm their nerves. The final part of his instructions very nearly made them back out of the whole deal. "If Mrs. McClure is accepted, she will depart with Mr. Greyfox then and there and belong to him for the duration of the contract. She will leave with nothing but the clothes on her back and whatever He deems to provide her with. No jewelry, no wedding ring. No clothing, toiletries, computers, books or cell phones. There will be no contact of any sort for the duration of the contract. She will be taken to an undisclosed location and remain there until her training is complete. Any attempt to insist or to force disclosure will result in the termination of the contract and the training and forfeiture of the fee in full." No contact at all? For an entire month? No phone? No... wedding ring...? Dusty swallowed hard and looked at her husband. "I can do this..." She thought. "For him." Throughout the entire process the man himself had sat quietly, not saying a word. Never removing those dark glasses. Merely turn the walking stick, seemingly rapt in gazing at the silver chased wolfs head. All of their questions had been answered by his "associate" who was either an attorney or a private secretary or possibly a bodyguard. The check and contract were swept into a briefcase and the other man left the room. Jax stood and pointed at Dusty saying "Stand up." When she did he turned her with a hand on her shoulder. A pair of steel handcuffs went around her wrists, the sound as he secured her hands behind her back loud in the stunned silence of the room. From another pocket he produced a slim metal collar. It was as big around as a pencil with an ingenious hinge in the middle and a ring attached. He placed it around Dusty's neck and closed it with an allen wrench. Shrugging, Greyfox pulled off the long leather jacket and draped it over Dusty's shoulders, hiding the restraints and the fact her nipples were so hard they were ready to rip through the material of her shirt. He pointed at the young quarterback, who had sat red-faced and taut as a bowstring, as if he were considering leaping up and killing the man who was about to take his pretty little new wife away from him. "Stand up." He said. "Kiss her. You have ten seconds." Those strong sure quarterback hands trembled a little as he cupped her face in his palms. "Oh my god, Dusty. I love you." "Five." "Me too, J... I mmmmph..." Jeremy kissed her hard. His wife struggled against the cuffs, wanting to hold her husband and a little moan of mixed frustration and desire came from her chest. As frightened and nervous as she was, Dusty was completely amazed at how incredibly horny she was at that very moment. Her whole body was vibrating like a guitar string and if Jeremy had touched her the right way... hell, if he'd even just brushed against her nipple she was sure she would have fallen on the floor and had an orgasm right then and there. The Janus Trap Even if a complete stranger was standing there watching. A complete stranger who was about to take her away and make her his sexual slave for a month. Oh god... "Time." A hand on her shoulder pulled Dusty away from her husband's lips. "Come." He clipped a leash to the ring in her collar and led her towards the door. Just before the door shut one finger raised and pointed at the young man standing forlorn and alone in the hotel room. "Go home." He ordered. "Come back in a month." Oh god... Interlude Three Things to do. There were always things for Dog to do. Schedules to follow. Certain rituals to observe. The majority of it's time in Owner's home Dog spent on all fours, as a proper pet should. Almost always in Owner's presence, anyway. A sign of proper humble obedience. But for certain things it was allowed to stand and walk like a person. The Tea Ceremony. It wasn't styled after it's Japanese counterpart, though it bore the same name. Owner rarely had guests to comment on a certain piece of art or poetry hanging on the wall, though it was known to happen now and then. If there were guests, Dog had different rituals and duties to perform. Owner's tea things were kept in a wooden box in the kitchen. Dog lovingly unpacked each item and set them on the counter in the order they would be needed. It had learned to compensate for the visual impairment of the mask by this time and set the pieces out without error. The stainless steel kettle emitted little wisps of steam as the water came to a boil. Perfect. Everything was arranged on the tray in exactly the correct place. Owner's tea cup was a fine and delicate thing with a painted dragon chasing it's own tail around the outside. On the inside if one were to tip the cup up to look was pressed the image of a Geisha girl naked to the waist, her kimono in a pool around her hips. Dog had never seen anything like it. The saucer below had a matching dragon. Boiling water was transferred to the ceramic pot. The tea leaves were in the strainer next to the metal whisk on the drip tray. Owner's cup and saucer were in place. To one side sat a small plate with one freshly baked cookie. Chocolate chip. Owner's favorite kind. Dog was proud of it's baking skills. It had learned them all from Owner. On a paper napkin in the lowest corner was a bone-shaped cookie. Except for the chocolate chips it looked just like any biscuit one would buy in the pet food aisle. Dog made that one too, of course. It really hoped Owner would be happy enough with it to let Dog eat it's biscuit. It rarely got sweets in Owner's house. Treading slowly and carefully, Dog carried the tray into the living room and knelt in front of the low table next to Owner's chair. It waited until Owner said "Yes" before setting it down on the table. The strainer was placed in the cup and water poured from the pot over it. The calming aroma of green tea quickly infused the room. Dog sat patiently for the allotted time, reciting to itself a little poem it had learned early in it's service. "Allow this pet the strength to answer questions it cannot fathom. Allow this pet the spirit to know Owner's needs. Allow this pet the serenity to serve Owner in peace. Allow this pet the love to show Owner itself. Allow this pet the tenderness to comfort Owner. Allow this pet the light to show the way. Allow this pet the wisdom to be an asset to Owner. Allow this pet to be able to show Owner each day it's love of service. Allow this pet to open up and belong completely to Owner. Allow this pet to accept Owner's punishment with grace. Allow this pet to please Owner beyond itself. Allow this pet to love itself through loving Owner. Allow this pet to make Owner's life complete." Dog removed the strainer, letting the drips fall back into the cup then placed it back on it's little drip tray and gently stirred the liquid with the whisk twelve times. Taking the cup and saucer in both hands, it lifted them towards Owner and bowed it's head. "Good Dog." Beneath it's mask, Dog smiled. Once again as the ritual demanded, Dog waited until Owner took a sip before it offered the plate with the cookie. It sat and waited until Owner took a bite. "Mmmm... very good Dog." It felt an overwhelming urge to wag it's tail. Owner waved a hand. "My pet deserves a treat, I think." Dog almost wept at Owner's generosity. Slipping the little bone shaped cookie up through the opening at the bottom of it's mask, Dog nibbled on the treat, savoring each and every crumb. Six Despite leading what might be considered by many as a life of wealth and privilege, Joshua actually ended up with very little time to himself most days. Appointments, clients, demands for interviews. New and interesting bits of equipment to be ordered to keep his clients... satisfied if not exactly happy. No sooner would he be ending one thing when his assistant would be whispering reminders for the next in his ear. Some days it was exhausting. Plus he always took time out to write. He had discovered a few years earlier of he stopped writing he got mentally and emotionally constipated. After spending so much time behind the keyboard it was now a part of who and what he was and Joshua wasn't able to stop for any length of time. Besides, his fans were always clamoring for more. Another one of those things which kept the money rolling in. That was something important he had discovered early on in his rise to fame. With big money came big bills and just like the average Joe on the street making minimum wage he had to keep working or the bills would pile up. One day soon, he thought, I will retire. Buy me a farmhouse out in the country somewhere. Sleep as late as I want. Drink coffee on the porch and spend most of my time writing, but only when I wanted to, not because I have to. Joshua looked around the shelves in his office. When I go, I am taking my books with me. It was a dream of his. But not his only dream. Seven The wooden stocks. Of all the equipment in his dungeon the stocks were his favorite. He'd had them custom built to his specifications. The wood was thick and stained dark and marred and scratched and gouged as if they were centuries old, each nick and claw mark crying out the echoes of the misery and humiliation of all the pour souls who had been trapped inside. The hinges and fittings were all heavy iron and the noise they made when they clanged shut sounded final and forbidding, as if once in there you would never be released again. Aside from the fact they held whoever was in them almost completely immobile, the stocks always had a deep effect on whichever sub or slave or pet was placed there. It made them quickly and desperately ready to do whatever was required to be freed. Pitifully pleadingly eager to please. It had taken Dusty less than ten minutes to get to that point. The one thing she despised and feared above all others was being unable to move. All of her life she had been active and athletic and on the go. Sitting still had never been one of her greatest strengths. Naturally, Joshua used it as often as possible. Whether it was putting her in the corner or in restraints or standing in one place or merely kneeling on the floor next to his chair waiting for his instructions. It had taken almost three weeks, but Dusty had finally managed to achieve that zen-like state of a sub waiting for her Master once or twice. She was getting it. Understanding what being a trained and loyal pet was all about. The stocks still got to her, though. She'd made a little whine of fear as soon as he had her step into the contraption and locked the board in place to trap her ankles then another as he lifted the top and had her place her neck and wrists in the little curved indentations. When the heavy metal hasp clanked shut and he slid the locking pin home her whole body trembled and she whispered "Ooooohhhhh... god..." What didn't help her discomfiture any at all was when Joshua began tapping on the inside of one creamy firm thigh with a thin wooden rod, interspersing it with sharp little smacks, all in exactly the same place. Tap... tap... tap... "Who is your Master, girl?" Smack! "Aaaahhh! My... My husband, Sir!" Tap... tap... tap... "Who is your first priority, girl?" Smack! "Oooowww... My Master, Sir!" Tap... tap... tap... "Who owns your body right now, girl?" Smack! "Eeee..! Owooooo... Y-you do, Sir! P-please!" She writhed in pain as the red spot deepened in color. It began to burn as if her were branding her thigh with a white hot poker, rather than just tapping her with a wooden stick. Tap... tap... tap... "What will you do to please your Master, girl?" Smack! "Aaaahhh! Ow... ow ow ow...! Anything! Anything my Master wishes! Please!" Tap... tap... tap... "And what will you do to please me, girl?" Smack! "Anything!" She shrieked. "Please, Sir! Anything you want, Sir! Oh god... please..." When he laid the stick down and gently stroked the inside of her thigh she shivered hard and moaned, breaking out in goose bumps all over her body. Joshua chuckled again and patted her bottom. "Such a good girl." The girl really had a pleasing little body. She was well toned and firm and compact, just the way he liked them. Having her bent over like that, along with having her really nervous, brought out all of the definition in her muscles and it was fun watching them clench and tremble as he walked around and around her. Those firm little titties hung down and her tiny little nipples were almost hard enough to cut his flesh as he pinched them. Stopping in front of her, Joshua ran his fingers through her short dark hair, occasionally tugging on it. In her position Dusty could plainly see the bulge running down the inside of his pants. "P-please... Sir... a-allow this girl t-to please you..." He chuckled. On the very first evening of her training Joshua had discovered just how well the girl was able to use her mouth to please a man. Of course it had taken quite a bit of... convincing... to make her part her lips for him willingly. Dusty had never been with any man other than Jeremy at that point. He'd been forced to paint her pert little bottom, thighs and even the soles of her little feet with angry red stripes from various of his "toys" to get her to submit. He'd had to admit she was pretty good. Now, after three weeks of intensive training she was even better. If nothing else her husband would be pleased at her progress. "Would you please me with your mouth, girl?" He walked behind her and Dusty wiggled and squirmed in the wooden stocks, trying to keep him in her view, which was of course impossible. "Oooohhh... y-yes, S-sir. P-please allow m-me to please you, Sir." As part of her psychological conditioning, Joshua was always referred to as "Sir" and whenever she spoke about her husband he was called "Master." She needed to be constantly aware of where her priorities lay and who her real Owner was. In all likelihood Joshua would never see this girl again once her month of training was over, but Jeremy would be more than happy to keep her forever. One hand smacked a bottom cheek making her squeak and flinch. It then moved immediately between her thighs, one finger slipping between her pussy lips. Dusty raised her head and moaned and squirmed. Even as much as she hated some of the things he made her do, she knew what was coming and by this time all Joshua had to do was walk into the room and she would start getting wet. This time was no different. Dusty was dripping wet with her own natural lubricant and his finger slid up inside her easily, those amazing muscles gripping him tightly. Joshua was always amazed and pleased at how tight her little pussy was. And how receptive and sensitive she was. It only took a moment or two before she shivered all over and reached a small but not inconsiderable orgasm with his touch. Chuckling, he said "Good girl." Then he pulled out of her, walked around and placed the finger glistening with her juices to her lips and added "Please this with your mouth." "Y-yes... aaahhh... mmmm..." Dusty sucked the finger into her mouth, tongue lashing around and around with her head bobbing as little as she could move, sucking on it as if it were a miniature cock. One of the things Joshua had learned from her was up until the time she contracted herself to his service for training, Dusty had never once tasted pussy. Not even her own. She refused to go down on her husband after he'd been inside of her without washing first. She whined if he kissed her after eating her pussy. She had never tasted another girl, either. Never more than chaste kisses with her girl friends at school. Now she had discovered there were definitely worse things than the taste of pussy. Her own or someone else's. Three times since then he had brought in other girls for her to play with and to teach her the joys of sapphic love. Not clients, but trained submissives who belonged to other Dom/mes in the city who were more than happy to grant a favor to the famous Jax Greyfox. Dusty was a fast learner in some things. She had learned it wasn't as nasty as she had thought and rather pleasant to bring another woman to orgasm with her lips and tongue. She'd learned it was even nicer being on the receiving end. She'd also learned it was kind of comforting having another submissive with her, sharing her experiences. Someone to lean on for comfort. As an added bonus, Joshua had arranged for a chit with the Owner of a girl about Dusty's size and temperament. They were close enough to be sisters. If he wanted it, Dusty's Master would get to experience his first threesome with two willing and submissive pet girls. He thought it would be appreciated. When he pulled his now clean finger from her lips she sighed softly and said "Thank you, Sir." as any good pet should. "Let's give you something else to be thankful for." His fingers went to the top button of his pants, undoing it slowly and sliding down the zipper. Her big brown eyes watched each movement hungrily. "Mmmm... please, Sir. Allow this girl to please you." While Dusty had often pleased her husband with her oral skills and even learned to enjoy it to a degree she had never really "wanted" to do that. Like most humans she was a bit greedy and selfish about sexual pleasure and preferred activities which gave her stimulation as well. Now she had learned the pleasure of service and would happily spend ten or fifteen minutes or even up to an hour with Joshua's prick in her mouth doing her level best to make him happy and be just as content with the outcome even if he didn't fuck her afterward. Really, he could have sent her home to her waiting husband at this point and consider her well trained. He was sure Jeremy would be appreciative of his bride's new attitude toward so many things. And happy about getting her back a week early. "Open wide, dear." "Yes, Sir! Aaaahhh... mmmmph... Mmmmm..." Her mouth was small and he filled her completely. She immediately began bobbing as best she could, her slick tongue whipping back and forth as he thrust slowly in and out of her mouth. He could send her back early. But the contract was for a month, after all. And he was enjoying this. "Mmmm... good girl." Interlude Four Dog really liked Owner's house. It was a small and simple house, easy to move about in and easy to keep tidy. Dog did it's chores and kept things neat and clean for Owner at all times. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, kitchen, dining room, living room and garage. One bedroom was the playroom where The Trainer and other like equipment was kept. It had a cabinet full of toys and things. Dog's mask, collar, leash, harness and tail were kept there when Dog wasn't home. The other bedroom was naturally where Owner and sometimes Dog slept. It really enjoyed sleeping in there, even if it was curled up in it's little basket by the side of Owner's bed. But on those nights when Owner was exceptionally pleased with it, Dog was allowed to curl up under the covers with Owner. Sometimes to provide additional service to Owner and sometimes just to sleep and dream happy Dog dreams. Dogs life was simple and it liked simplicity. Owner and chores and obedience. Sometimes Dog wished it could stay with Owner all the time. Sometimes life wasn't always simple. Eight Jeremy McClure's hands shook just a little as he tried to slip the key card into the slot in the hotel room door. He could barely contain his excitement and he felt as a child anticipating Christmas morning. His Dusty was coming home. Jeremy could hardly wait. At this point he didn't even care if she was trained as a submissive. Even if the time and money had been completely wasted he didn't care. He loved his wife with all of his heart and missed her for every second of the month she had been gone. He missed her soft skin and sweet lips and her scent and her voice and the little snores as she slept. He missed looking at her and touching her and talking to her and he very much missed having her warm and willing and naked in his bed. After such a long time apart he was more than willing to put his little fantasies aside and just be happy having her in his life again. Dreams were meant to be dreamt, after all. His Dusty was coming home. The door shut behind him softly. And there she was. Kneeling on the floor in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but a black leather collar. Eyes down and one hand held up offering him the handle of a leash. "Master." She said softly. Her head lifted and those gorgeous soft brown eyes looked up at him. He could see the love in her eyes. Her submission to him. And her need. "I've missed you." Nine Dexter Henry reclined in his chair, a cup of tea steaming softly on the side table and the local newspaper open in his hands. He squinted through his reading glasses at the small print and despaired of getting old. Even if he was enjoying himself even more lately. "Hmm..." He frowned. "It seems that Jax Greyfox has retired and disappeared completely. Says here he gave his staff large severance packages, put his house up for sale and... poof. Gone. Nobody knows exactly where he ran off to. Interesting..." He read some more and chuckled. "All kinds of mixed reactions from society, it seems. That hot little redhead actress has checked herself into some Hollywood clinic for emotional exhaustion. And that preacher upstate who used to talk so bad about him has gone on a retreat for an extended period with no firm date when or if he might return." He chuckled again. "Very interesting indeed." Dexter looked at the silent figure kneeling by his chair. The soulful brown eyes watched him and listened to every word through the eye holes cut in the leather. Though he never spoke, Dexter talked to him often. "I knew him, you know. Well, only through emails and stuff, if that counts. We started publishing on the same website way back when. His stuff was way better than mine, though. He had a way of making his characters seem so real... so human... Ah, well." The paper was folded shut and tossed to the floor and he rose from his chair. "I guess we need to finish unpacking your stuff now that you've finally moved in." He looked down once again, admiring the fine body in its leather harness and mask kneeling there. One hand caress the back of his head between the straps of the mask. "I hope you know how happy you have made me, boy." He shook his head. "Now let's figure out where we are going to put all of those books. We may need to buy some more shelves..." Beneath its mask, Joshua smiled happily.