Chapter 1

The phone rang.

Not your ordinary phone; the special one Sir Guy had installed in the apartment. The one that had a speaker and microphone in every room that I could answer merely by speaking since it was attuned to my voice.

"I am here, Master."

"Are you naked, slave?"

"Yes, Master."

"Describe your position, slave."

"I am on my knees, Master. They are spread as wide as I can get them. My breasts are down on the floor as are my forearms so that my bottom is pointing up and my vagina and anus are properly displayed."

"What was that?"

The voice, previously low, cultured and urbane, now rose a tone or two. I quickly corrected my mistake. "I am sorry, Master. My udders are pressed to the floor, my arsehole and cunt are properly exposed."

"Better," he said grudgingly. "What are you doing?"

"I am polishing the floor using the beeswax rag, Master."

"Good. You may now rise and move into the Inspection Room."

I did so, quickly jumping to my feet and hurrying into the tiny room that contained nothing but a cheval mirror, moving up to it and assuming the position required: legs wide apart and hands clasped up behind my head.

"I am in position, Master."

"Describe your body, slave."

This was routine to me and I went straight into the standard patter: "I am fully naked, Master ..."

He interrupted me at this point: "Did you obey my order and go to the salon?"

"Yes, Master."

"Describe the event."

"I booked myself in as you ordered, Master, informing them that I would consent to the session being used to train student technicians and also that I wished to have my whole body done at the one session."

"What was their reaction?"

"They welcomed the first stipulation but told me it would be far too painful to have it all done at once."

"And you replied?"

"That it was my wish, nevertheless."

"And they consented?"

"Yes, Master."

"Describe the procedure."

"They asked me to take off my clothes and lie on the table. I asked them to strap me down so I wouldn't make things difficult for them. They did so. There were about a dozen student technicians there, all of them ogling my nakedness."

"Were you embarrassed?"

"Very embarrassed, Master. They then started with the ruby laser machine, doing my armpits, legs and my cunt until every part of my body was permanently smooth, Master."

"Did it hurt?"

"Not at first, Master, but as the day proceeded, the pain began to mount and at the end they kept asking me if I wanted to go on. I told them yes."

"Good. You have done well, Katrina. Resume your description of your now very naked body. Begin with your udders."

"They are smallish, Master but are well-formed and are perfect half-orbs, capped with pink aureoles and slightly darker nipples which are quite small."

"Now describe your skin."

"It is a creamy colour, Master, and is smooth and blemish free ..." I was always embarrassed at having to praise my own body but he had told me I was always to be scrupulously honest in these descriptions.

"Now describe your cunt."

I blushed as I always did when he used such words and when I had to use them for those parts of my body for they had always been taboo and before becoming his slave I had never used them - not ever. But I did now for he became very testy with me when I called my body parts by their proper or more decent names. He had told me that slaves had cunts and arseholes and I had better remember it.

"It is now quite smooth and hairless, Master. There is a slight but not too prominent mound and the outer cunt-lips are not fleshy. They totally hide what is inside unless you pull them apart."

"Do that now," he said, his voice again smooth and urbane, ever the cultured English gentleman.

I cringed but lowered my hands to my sex and pulled the outer lips open. "I can now see the inner lips, Master. They are dark pink or even red and they are fluttering slightly."

"Play with your clit," he ordered, and again I cringed - but obeyed for he had told me if I failed him, I would have to leave his apartment and never ever get to meet him.

I did as he ordered, aware that he could hear the slightest sound throughout the apartment although he had purposely not installed a CCTV system.

"I am coming now, Master," I gasped.

"Very well. Stop it - NOW!" Again I obeyed although it was hard to stop working on a climax in mid-stream. "You may now kneel, slavegirl," he said softly.

He paused for a few moments, almost as if he was watching me but then he went on again. "You have now reached a new plane in your slavery, slavegirl," he said slowly. "It is now time for you to move on to a new level of humiliation."

"Yes, Master," I said but my mind was now racing. I had sought him out not the other way around but each new stage in our relationship meant more shame and I wondered what was coming now.

"How many bras do you have, Katrina?"

"Three, Master."

"You are to go into the bedroom and take them out of their drawer, together with each of your panties, singlets, slips and any other undergarments you may possess. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Master."

"Then do it."

I crawled on my knees, since he had not given me permission to rise, into my bedroom and opened each of the drawers containing the items he had mentioned and laid them on the bed.

"It is done, Master."

"Now stand up and go and fetch a pair of scissors." I did this too and when I returned and told him, he spoke again. "You are now to cut each item so as to destroy it."

I sobbed, realising the implications but I obeyed him again and then reported when it was done.

"From now on, Katrina, you will wear no underwear of any kind. You will wear a skirt and a woollen jumper or a suit top but there is to be no other garment under either item. You will wear no stockings. You will now go to the front door where you will find some packages. These contain your new clothes. All others - and I mean all others are to be donated to charity."

I gulped. "Yes, Master."

"Then do it. I will speak to you again in a week."

 

By that time I had been under his thrall for a couple of months - but perhaps I should start at the beginning...

My name is Katrina Sumner and ever since I have understood such things I have been enraptured by the idea of slavery - mine. Ordinary relationships with boys of my own age never interested me although I went along with them, more to satisfy Mother's incessant questions than anything else. I was never able to achieve anything like it in real life of course since my family was very strait-laced about such things and I didn't even dare purchase a bondage magazine and try to hide it in my room.

I was an only child and when, in the nature of things I left home to go to university to do the library course, I began to look around. I was very careful of course and didn't find anything or anyone that might have led me to experiment in my fetish. The course was only for two years and I now worked as an assistant in a branch library, renting a bed-sitter nearby.

It was in the apartment building that I met Penny. She had the flat next to me and we became quite good friends. So much that I eventually confided in her of my strange quirk about slavery.

"You mean that you really and truly crave to become a slave to some rich man - your Master?" she said but there was a definite glint - or was it a sparkle in her eye as she said the words.

I nodded. "Yes, I know it is ridiculous. In this day and age there aren't slaves, not real ones anyway and I wouldn't want to play-act at being a slave. If it was to happen, I would want for it to be real."

"You are serious, aren't you?" she breathed, her eyes now wide, although the quirky look was still in her eyes and around her mouth. I decided she was keeping something back.

"What is it, Penny? I can see it in your face!"

"Well, I can't decide if you really and truly are serious about this, but if you are, I may know of a man who would take you."

"Tell me!" I demanded. "Who is he?"

"Not so fast, young lady," she said. "I will contact him and let him know of your interest. He will no doubt investigate your background and then, if he is satisfied, may contact you. If the two of you agree, he may take you on."

"Tell me more," I said excitedly. "What would it involve? Who is he?"

That and many more questions tumbled from my lips but she just shushed me, saying she couldn't answer any of my questions and I would just have to be patient. "You do realise though, don't you, Katrina, that if you once embark on this course, although there will never be any real compulsion, you will never be able to leave it. A normal life would be impossible after a year or two of slavery."

"I know that, Penny, but it is something that has been in the forefront of my mind all my adult life - since puberty anyway and it is something I have to try - at least to get it out of my system. I suspect though that it is something I will want for the rest of my life. Marriage, kids, career - they're all humdrum to me. I know I want to be a slave to some demanding Master. That is my aim."

 

It only took a week and then Sir Guy rang me at home in my flat. His questions were penetrating and covered every aspect of my life from my family and my commitment to them, to my schooling and university and my employment.

"That will continue, at least for the time being, girl. You will, if we both agree on this course, move into the apartment I keep for you slaves and from then on, every single aspect of your life will be controlled by me. If you pass this probationary period, I may then invite you to become a full-time slave at my estate..."

"When may I meet you, Sir?" I asked.

"Not now, maybe never. All my instructions to you will be by telephone until the time we both decide slavery is the life for you and you move to the estate up here in the country."

He was rather evasive about his identity and the whereabouts of his estate. All I knew was that he was 'Sir Guy' and perhaps even that was a misnomer.

It was a weird scenario but it intrigued me - and so did his voice. Every time I heard that cultured voice I went wet between my legs and I couldn't wait to agree to his terms. I moved into the apartment immediately and then it started.

First there was the nudity. I was required to be naked at all times from the moment I got home until I went out. I was never to wear anything ... anything at all whilst in the flat. Then there was the naked toil. I had to keep the apartment spotlessly clean and all by hand. I wasn't allowed to use a mop, for example. I had to get down in the manner described above and clean and polish the wooden floors on my hands and knees and with my bottom up high and my chest down near the floor.

He would also make me bathe in his 'presence', his voice demanding to know my innermost thoughts and desires while I used my hands (washers weren't allowed) to clean all over my body and while I later masturbated. I had to sleep on a satin sheet but without any covering over my naked body. The apartment was kept at a steady twenty-five degrees Celsius so it wasn't cold, but I lived in mortal fear that someone would come to the door for he had ordered me to answer it in the nude and brazen out any shock or criticism of my state of undress. Neither was I allowed to dissimulate about the reasons for my nudity. I couldn't, for example, pretend I was just out of the shower.

Every week he called me on the strange phone whose hidden speakers followed me everywhere I went in the apartment and which he instructed me how to tune to my voice only so no-one else could answer it. Not that that was likely for he also told me not to bring anyone to the apartment - ever. During these phone calls he probed further and further into my mind and into the weird fetish I had to be a slave and each week he pushed me a tiny bit further down the track into real slavery, the last two being the permanent depilation of all my body hairs and then the giving away of all my own clothes and the ban on all and any underwear.

There was no compulsion. I could have backed out of the agreement any time I liked by the simple expedient of dropping the key into the concierge's office. I only had my own clothes for he had forbidden me to bring anything else into my new life with him and after I had given them away I had nothing of my own. Nothing at all.

But each new stage, while frightening, was also thrilling. I was beginning to live out my life's dreams at last.