Introduction

 

If you visit a local horse farm and take the big stud out of his stall, he has only one thing on his mind. All he wants to do is breed that little, long-legged filly that has been prancing back and forth along the paddock fence. Man isn't any different.

Sex drives him along, day after day. A pair of skin tight jeans, a short, low cut top or a little mini skirt triggers something in a guy. There's a lust that surges from deep inside the male of the species. Given a choice of any of his beloved past times, he will take a roll between the sheets every time.

There are a few individuals, however, who just don't get turned on by just natural sex. They need something more. It starts off at a very early age. They find that ropes and a little bondage stir their inner souls. Plain old masturbation takes just a little longer than it does for their friends. When they are finally old enough to have sex, they sometimes have trouble getting enough feeling to ejaculate. However, these young men soon discover that by jerking off harder, sometimes even causing a little discomfort, they have faster and better orgasms.

One thing leads to another. They like fetish magazines far better than Playboy, getting aroused by pictures and stories of sado-masochistic rituals. These men discover the immense pleasure of orgasm when bondage and discipline become a part of their sexual experience. They soon experiment with self-bondage, which increases the excitement of their sexual pleasure. It's interesting that all of this happens within a few years of puberty, before ever graduating from high school but they are hooked for life.

At an early age, these individuals are addicted to the sexual pleasure of their pain. It starts very moderately but it turns them on, it excites them. Visions of a Mistress, clad in a black leather corset, garter belt and knee-high leather boots while wielding a long, nasty whip, is better than any centerfold. They have become masochists.

When other men look at a beautiful woman, their first thoughts are her breasts, her round ass and having sex with her, but the masochist dreams of how good it would feel to be whipped by her before he is allowed to kiss her feet. He is willing to do anything to be dominated and punished by a woman while being allowed to serve her.

Most masochistic men live frustrated lives, never finding that special person who will give them what they want. If they are married, they seldom tell their wives about their special needs. They are either too embarrassed or are afraid that they won't be understood. They are right, they won't.

Jack, the main character of this novel, is lucky. After years of unsatisfiable sex, he has discovered someone who understands his needs. He finds a beautiful, sadistic woman who needs him just as much for her own satisfaction. She demands everything, and he willingly gives it. He becomes her property. Jack becomes her complete slave - body, mind and soul.

Samantha's Slave highlights his first year of servitude. He revels in the joy of his slavery, the satisfaction of his Mistress's needs, and the pain and bondage he loves and endures. Life is always interesting as he journeys through a variety of pleasant and painful experiences that takes him deeper and deeper into his life of slavery and servitude.

Chapter One

Initial Encounter

My cock was pounding with excitement as I drove closer to the city. My mood was not dampened by the weather. A cold rain splattered against the windshield of my coupe as lightning flashed off in the distance. It was one of those nights. You know, it was like the beginning scenes of an old-time horror flick or a mystery on television. The thunder rumbles and the lightning flashes, while the wind howls, blowing the curtains of rain against the dark stone walls of the ivy covered mansion.

The ominous, black-clouded sky was illuminated by brilliant streaks of electricity whipping its way to the ground in a violent multitude of strands like a fiery cat-o'-nine-tails. With each strike, shadows brightened with the ever-deafening roar.

Down through the grey, empty streets, I traveled. There was an absence of life as I approached the large, concrete parking garage. It even resembled one of the haunted places where evil lurked in those gruesome films.

Dark-shadowed castles with blood-chilling dungeons of pain and pleasure captivated my mind. I envisioned its victims cruelly chained within the cold, damp, stone cells, awaiting the whip or cherry red hot irons. Helpless captives, willing Masters, pain-loving Mistresses...Oh God!

It's strange. As I drove closer and closer, I shivered and a cold chill went along my spine. My palms were sweaty. I was excited, yet it was a kind of nervous feeling that consumed me. My cock had steadily grown as large as my snug fitting clothes would allow. It wanted to come to a full erection, pushing and prying against my unmoving, unforgiving underwear. I rubbed my crotch and adjusted my clothing, thus allowing my hungry pecker to reach its fullest potential. Hot blood poured through my engorged shaft. With a mind of its own, my cock was ready for tonight, but was I?

I didn't know what to expect. Was the horrible weather a bad omen? Was tonight going to be just another dead end or an absolute nightmare?

I was looking for the ideal Mistress. Answering ads in magazines had completely drawn blanks. Those who responded were often people into the domination scene who were not really sincere. They were just in it for the money. All they wanted to do was take advantage of the needs of certain individuals and attempt to get rich quick. I didn't mind paying for what I needed but three or four hundred dollars for a couple dozen cracks on the ass while licking someone's smelly feet is ridiculous.

"I'm sorry shit head, but your hour's up," was the typical response. "Come back again if you want some more of the same."

That's not what I wanted. That's not what I needed. I had to have far more than that!

In desperation, I finally took out a carefully worded ad in the local newspaper. I got some response but was quickly striking out. Maybe tonight would be different.

After several conversations with her on the phone, I felt down deep that she might be the one I sought. She was looking for a slave. I needed a Mistress who would satisfy me. She knew that I craved both bondage and discipline. Maybe tonight I'd meet someone who cared. I was looking for someone who would take an interest in me, my fetish and my desires. Perhaps this could turn out to be a long relationship of servitude and love. She said that she wanted someone to spend his life serving her with unquestioned devotion and wanted to train him to absolute perfection with both pain and love. Maybe this would be the right thing for both of us. Soon I'd know if she was different than all of the others.

My raging hard-on pounded steadily with the excitement of the upcoming encounter. It was hungry for the strange lust that consumed me and drove me ever onward. The craving for bondage, submission and pain was surging through me like hot, boiling oil.

I approached the dark structure, as another lightning bolt slashed across the sky. My excitement was leveling off a little and a sense of nervousness took its place. My fate was waiting just down the street.

After parking on the third floor of the parking garage, I walked quickly to the restaurant. It was mid-June, but because of a cold front, it felt more like October. Even though dinner reservations were for seven, I arrived a few minutes early, just in case.

It took twenty dollars for the maitre d' to seat me at a secluded table. Time passed very slowly as I waited for her arrival. At seven-thirty the waiter brought me another Scotch. I sipped the Glenfiddich slowly. Where was she? I can understand her being fashionably late, but I began to wonder if I was to be stood up. I'd have to make a decision pretty soon. What would I do if she didn't show up? God, I hope she comes, but it's not looking good. Maybe it's the weather - the bad omen!

At a little after eight, I decided to leave. I guess she wasn't going to show. When the waiter brought me my check, it was interrupted by a stern voice. I was taken totally by surprise.

"If you expect to serve me and be my slave, you'll wait all night if necessary. Most of you pussy lickers are just the same. You think life revolves around you, but it doesn't. Maybe I should just leave, or maybe I should give you the pain you deserve and crush your worthless testicles right here in the middle of this restaurant."

The waiter quickly departed.

I immediately rose from my chair and tried to apologize while courteously seating her at the table. It was hard to find the right words, for her beauty was overwhelming. She was a Goddess.

"I wasn't sure you were going to make it. I - ah - I'm very sorry. I really am. Here, I brought you these." While handing her a dozen long-stemmed roses, wrapped with black leather and silken bands, I dropped to my knees and continued my apology. "It won't happen again. I promise. Please forgive me for not being patient enough. I - I'm Jack."

She didn't speak, but just looked down at the menu.

I stared at her. Who was she? There were so many things about her that intrigued me already. She was young, probably in her very early thirties. Being so attractive, why was she interested in me? She could have anything or anyone she wanted. Was it for money? Why would such a magnificent creature want to fulfill my strange desires? What does she really need? It was very puzzling, but I was going to find out.

Her long, lightened hair outlined a very pretty face. Large, emerald eyes and perfect lips highlighted her lustful appearance. She wore just enough make-up to highlight her beauty, not so much as to make her look cheap. Her black leather dress was elegant, tight enough to accentuate her breasts, sexy, yet not gaudy. There was something about her that possessed me immediately. I continued to stare and wonder. My God, she was Aphrodite.

The waiter interrupted the silence, bringing me back to reality when he said, "May I bring you a drink before you order?"

I waited for her response.

She finally looked at me, smiled, and said, "A bottle of Stag's Leap Cabernet and a pitcher of ice water will do fine, thank you."

I continued to study the Goddess, who was actually ignoring me. There was a presence that seemed to surround her. She was one of those women that you can't take your eyes off of - she mesmerized me. But, there was something else. Right then I knew that she was the one. This woman would be my Mistress. I would be her slave.

The waiter returned with the chilled wine and crystal glasses within a few minutes. As is customary, he offered me a sample of her choice before pouring the delicate vintage. I approved of the wine, and he filled her glass.

John, I believe was his name, then returned to fill my glass, but she reached out and covered my goblet with her hand, thus preventing him from serving me. He understood without a word.

"Would you care for an appetizer?" the waiter asked.

"A jumbo shrimp cocktail for me please. Nothing for him, thanks!" she replied.

"Yes, Madame," A strange look came across his face as he left the table.

As I started to speak, she looked directly into my eyes, stopping any words that I wanted to say. Her dark green eyes were not cold, they were warm and caring. I remained silent as a multitude of thoughts passed within our stares. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. She took control of mine that very moment. There was nothing to say to her for I understood completely.

The waiter returned. A cut crystal goblet with six gorgeous coral-colored shrimp, cascading over its sides was carefully placed in front of her. I felt envious. I was hungry.

"Are you ready to order?"

"Yes, I'll have the filet mignons, rare, with the lobster tails. He's on a special diet, just bring him a couple of dinner rolls, please."

"Yes, Madame."

She's drinking a fine wine and eating the best on the menu and all I get is bread and water. It was the meal of a prisoner in the dungeons. These and other thoughts made me wonder what she had in mind for me tonight.

"While we are waiting for our dinner, I have something for you to do."

"What's that?" I asked inquisitively

She reached down and picked up her black leather handbag. As she slowly opened it, I couldn't help noticing the large, glistening bright diamond on her finger. She placed a pair of black satin and lace panties and a large gold-colored padlock on the table between us.

She carefully watched my eyes as I studied the two objects. They are so different. Her silken panties are hot and feminine, beautiful and so secretively personal. The brass lock is cold, hard and permanent. They are nothing alike, yet both of these items excited me. Both are symbols of my lust and fetish. To have the panties and the treasure they hold I must have the lock and the bondage it represents. These visually opposite objects are keys to my needs and desires.

My attention was focused on the lustful one - the soft, silky, sexy garment. I remembered back to the early days of grammar school, when we boys took every possible advantage to look up girls' skirts, hoping to just get a glimpse of their pretty little panties. The girls learned at an early age to almost hide them from us. It's funny how such a simple act was so exciting when you are young. Hmm...Maybe it's not so different when you get older.

Now here they are on the table exposed to everyone in a fancy restaurant, and I can't take my eyes off of them.

My hand slowly reached out to her offering. Gently I rubbed the smooth fabric between my fingers.

"You like them, don't you?" she inquired softly.

"I don't know..."

"Oh, you like them. There's no doubt. You even touched them first. Go ahead, pick them up. You'll especially like these. I wore them for a couple of days, just for you. Put them to your nose and breathe in deeply. Inhale me. I know you want to. You want them, and you want me."

She sipped her wine, as I drowned in her sweet, musky aroma. I took a deep breath, savoring the aphrodisia of her loins. It was absolutely heaven!

"Kiss them," she whispered. "Kiss them passionately, the same way you'd kiss my pussy."

Ever so gently, I placed my lips against the slightly soiled fabric that had previously encased her treasured lips.

"Oh...!" A whisper-moan escaped my lips. Samantha had removed her shoe and rubbed her stockinged foot against the hard bulge that had grown in my pants. As I caressed her panties, she continued to rub my cock.