Chapter One - JO

 

Jo hung, naked, from her widespread ankles, her wrists fastened to rings set in the bare wooden floor, sweat streaming down her slender, nineteen year old body and soaking into the thick blindfold that had consigned her to darkness during her punishment.

In the two years since she had given herself to her Master, Mark, this was the worst flogging she had endured, he had swung the crop harder and for a longer time than she could remember any beating lasting, her body was criss-crossed with long welts. He had spared no part of her body except her head and neck and her flanks where the kidneys lay close to the surface. He had specially worked on the tender undersides of her breasts that were so temptingly exposed. After the beating he had left her hanging to contemplate her sins.

In truth, Jo could think of no reason for her punishment, or why it had been so severe. True, Master Mark had occasionally beaten her for his personal pleasure, or for no reason whatsoever, save to teach her that she was a slave and at the mercy of a Master.

Jo had been fifteen when she first met Mark Grayson. One day her father's car failed to start when leaving work and Mark had offered to drive him home. Mark was invited in and his wife insisted that he stay for dinner. At this time Mark was twenty one, handsome in a moody kind of way, tall and broad, smartly dressed with neatly cut dark hair. Sitting at the table, Jo gazed at this God-like man until her mother scolded her for rudely staring at their guest. Jo blushed furiously at this admonition, but still kept stealing a glance from time to time. Mark conversed with his hosts and also tried to bring her into the conversation, but she was too tongue-tied to say much. In the morning, Jo rose early to catch a glimpse of Mark when he collected her father, but he did not leave his car, her father was ready and waiting when he arrived.

Mark became a good friend of the family, to Jo's delight, and on her sixteenth birthday he bought her a present which she considered too young for her, but she thanked him gratefully and was rewarded with her first kiss and she hung on to him for too long. Although the present, a small teddy bear, was to her mind childish, she slept with it by her side.

One day her parents were out when Mark called by. She made coffee and they curled up on the sofa and chatted. Mark was cool and made no move towards her and she was so desperate she finally threw herself at him, kissing him long and hard on the lips. He pushed her away, but not too quickly.

"Hey!" he cried, "steady on."

"Oh Mark, I love you, don't you know that?"

"Of course I do, silly, your body language has been telling me that for months."

"Then why have you not told me? You know I'm yours if you want me. I'm still a virgin!"

"I don't think your parents would appreciate me de-flowering their only daughter on their best-room sofa," he said as she blushed.

"They needn't know, it will be hours before they get back, plenty of time to do it and clean up."

"Has it occurred to you that I may not want to fuck you?" Again she blushed at the profanity.

"Don't you think I'm beautiful?"

"Yes love, you are very beautiful, but that's not the point."

She burst into tears and he took her into his arms until, comforted, she went quiet. Later, when her parents returned, Mark greeted them cheerfully and accepted the invitation to eat with them.

"I wonder if you might let me take Jo to the cinema on Saturday?" he said during the meal.

"Oh, can I, Dad, please!"

"I don't see why not, I'm sure you will be quite safe with Mark," her father said.

 

Later, in bed, her parents discussed the new situation.

"Mark's very nice, but he's six years older than Jo, I think we should try to ..."

"I'm six years older than you, and it's only a cinema date," her husband replied.

"But you can see she's infatuated with him and besides I was older when I first met you."

"You were only just seventeen and just as infatuated as Jo. We got on all right, didn't we?"

"But I'm still worried!"

"It probably won't work out anyway, she will discover that he's too old for her. Then she'll meet another nice boy; it's good experience to play the field when you're young."

"I didn't, you were my first love."

"You got lucky then."

"Big-head," she laughed, grabbing his stomach and tickling him.

Mark collected Jo on Saturday afternoon, but instead of driving towards the town, he took her to the outskirts where he owned a small house. Once inside he wrapped her in his arms, carried her upstairs and dumped her on his large bed. The top covers had been removed and a scarlet silk sheet covered the bed.

"Undress! I'll be back in a moment."

Jo was in shock, now the moment had come she was frightened. His command to strip had come so suddenly and in a tone that expected her to obey. With shaking fingers she unbuttoned her blouse and removed it, laying it to the side. She unzipped her skirt and removed that also then removed her shoes and short white socks. Jo decided not to remove her bra and panties just yet; she sat on the side of the bed and waited. He was wearing a pale blue dressing gown and a pair of battered slippers when he returned with a tray loaded with food, very interesting and unusual items, pate, caviar, thin slices of venison and a mixture of fresh fruit in a bowl, swimming in clear honey. There was also a coffee-jug, sugar and cream, cups and saucers. After placing the tray on a small table he took her head into his hands and kissed her deeply then reached around her back and removed her bra, whistling with delight as her very grown up breasts tumbled out; her nipples had already gone hard.

"Stand up a minute," he said. She obeyed. He slipped his fingers into her panties and slid them down her thighs. Kneeling before her, he examined her belly and the sparse hair on her pubis that failed to hide her sex lips.

"Sit down."

He moved the table close to the bed and sat down beside her, admiring the pink flush of embarrassment that covered her features and chest. Taking a small triangular slice of toast he loaded some caviar on to one side with a silver teaspoon and ate it, biting the toast in half. Placing some more on the remaining toast he held it to her lips.

"Don't smell it, just taste it," he ordered when he saw her turn up her nose at the offering.

She took it into her mouth and after a minute started to chew.

"Nice?" he enquired.

"Unusual," she replied, "fishy." He gave her a slice of venison: she liked that much more.

In silence the pair ate, Mark finishing off most of the fish eggs and the pate, she the cheese and venison. He took a grape out of the bowl, holding his hand underneath it to catch any drips and pushed it into her mouth. Jo tasted the sickly sweetness of the honey and then the refreshing flush of juice when she bit the grape. There were small pieces of fresh pear and squares of melon in the fruit salad and they ate, he choosing and placing in her mouth what he wanted her to taste. When all the fruit except one grape was finished he lifted the tray away and spread a white towel across the bed.

"Lie on that, darling." He had never called her darling before. Shivering with fear and anticipation she lay back and spread herself across the bed. Mark left the room, returning with a bowl of hot water, shaving cream and a safety razor. She shuddered as he smeared the soap over her pudenda then slowly scraped the blade across her soapy skin. After two passes he washed her clean and dried her. With his tongue he tested her for smoothness, she was as soft as a baby's bottom. By this time Jo was quite aroused. He kicked off his slippers and removed his dressing gown; he was already hard. He kissed her, stroking her face and neck then moved his hand onto her shoulder and finally her breast. Fingering a sensitive nipple he watched her face turn from fear to pleasure. After a while he slipped his hand between her legs, finding them wet with passion; then he found her hymen.

"I have to burst this little barrier," he told her, "it might hurt you and there will be a little blood, but once it's done it will be much better." He mounted her and slipped the tip of his penis inside her.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes. Do me now," Jo gasped. She screamed as he broke through then relaxed as he gently rocked to and fro, caressing her body with his hands and allowing his body weight to hold her down. She started to return his thrusts and he became more urgent, finally spilling himself inside her. Mark rolled off her but continued to play with her body, now able to reach her clitoris and labia. Jo became more excited and orgasmed, something that was totally unexpected.

"Oh!" she said, "how did you do that?"

"I tickled your clitoris, have you never done that to yourself?"

"No, never, I had no idea."

"This little piece of meat," he said, fondling her clitoris, "has only one purpose, to give a woman pleasure, did they not teach you this in sex lessons?"

"No."

"Now you know you can get pleasure anytime you like. Wait there."

He returned with a sponge and hand towel and washed away the blood from her thighs.

"In a few days you will heal and then we can make real love," he promised as he towelled her dry. Mark reached over to the table and picked up the fruit bowl. He took up the last grape and placed it in her navel then poured some of the liquid honey over it until it formed a pool on her concave belly. Lowering his face he started to lap the honey up, rolling the grape around inside her deep belly button. She gasped at the sensation. When all the honey had gone he bit into the grape, allowing the juice and pulp to fill her navel before lapping it up and kissing her dry. Jo lay stunned at this lovemaking, she loved how he had taken control and made all the decisions, teaching her something about sex in a slow and sensual lesson.

They lay side by side until it was time to take Jo home. On the way he explained the plot of the film they were supposed to have watched, just in case there were any questions.

Jo's mother knew what she had been up to the minute she saw her face, but decided not to approach the problem until she had discussed it with her husband. He pointed out that they had done the same and she argued that they had been older.

"Damn it all, she's just gone sixteen," she complained.

The next time Mark called, Jo's father took him on one side and handed him a packet of condoms.

"Just don't get her pregnant, Mark."

Mark blushed as he took the packet.

The second time he made love to her he held her hands over her head as he used her. She enjoyed that; it made her feel so helpless. The third time he asked her if he could tie her up. She agreed and loved the feeling of helplessness it gave her. Her wrists were bruised when he untied her as she had struggled, enjoying the feeling of total vulnerability. She had to wear a long sleeved sweater for the next week, despite the hot weather.

One day he took her out for a walk and took her deep into a conifer plantation. He looked around until he found a suitable tree, one with a branch jutting out just above head height. He placed her back against the tree and lifted her arms up, bringing them around the tree and tying her wrists together over the branch. She stood there, helpless, while he removed her skirt and panties and unbuttoned her shirt, tucking it behind her back. He loosened her bra, exposing her breasts and then strolled away. This really frightened her; somebody might come across her, tied there nude and available. Had Mark gone a long way away or was he just standing quietly a few feet away? An hour later she saw a movement in the trees in front of her. She froze then breathed a sigh of relief; it was Mark.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked.

"No, please release me."

"I will, when I've made love to you."

An hour later Jo screamed a cry of joy into the silence of the forest.

 

Jo found a job in a local solicitor's office. On Fridays she handed her pay to her mother and was given some spending money. She handed this to her Master and he spent some of this to buy her clothing. But what he bought was clothing befitting a slave, sleeveless cropped tops, short skirts and skimpy underwear; all her knickers were thongs.

Mark was now regularly tying Jo up at their weekend meetings and she gradually got used to more stringent bondage and harsher sexual demands. She had enjoyed swallowing his seed when he employed her mouth, but hated it when he demanded that she wash his bottom with her tongue. But she obeyed and after that humiliation he asked her to be his slave.

He gave her a week to decide. She was just seventeen. In two days she agreed to be his slave and he took her straight to the forest where he had tied her before, tied her to the same tree, this time stripping her totally and using her before abandoning her. When night fell Jo's fear turned to terror, the forest woke up and she could hear all the small creatures moving in the undergrowth. Morning came and she was still standing with her back to the rough bark, her arms and shoulders aching abominably.

Jo stood there all day and spent a second frightening night before he came to release her. He gave her some water then produced a leather whip. He delivered twelve strokes across her breasts and abdomen.

"Now you are my slave you must expect to be whipped and tied, do you wish to be released from our contract?"

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, Master."

He quickly used her and then released her bonds and bandaged her sore wrists.

 

Just three months after her seventeenth birthday Jo and her Master returned to her home to find the police waiting. Her parents had been involved in a road accident; they had both died.

Mark was a pillar of strength, dealing with the hospital, the undertaker and all the paperwork. Before the funeral he had her pack a suitcase and drove her to Scotland and married her.

"You are under eighteen, they would take you into care. Now you are my wife I am your guardian. You will remain my slave, of course."

Jo was happy that he intended to keep her as a slave as she really enjoyed being under Mark's power.

Jo was an only child and had no relatives so she inherited her parent's effects. Mark made her sign the house over to his name.

"Slaves do not own property, they are just owned," he explained.

He sold his house and most of her parent's belongings and moved into the bigger and more comfortable house. He converted the large cellar into a torture chamber.

An insurance policy had paid the mortgage and there was further money from life policies. All this went into Mark's bank account; she owned nothing. Now, just nineteen years old, she hung from the beam, her body covered in livid weals, wondering what the beating had been for.

Mark let her down in the evening and took her to bed where he made gentle love to her for several hours. In the morning he dressed her in a mini-dress and sandals but no underwear or stockings and led her out to his car.