Chapter One

 

 

Wearing nothing under her long coat but a latex bra and panties accompanied by a set of garters with stockings, and having remembered to put the panties outside the garters this time, Emma knocked on the door to the hotel room, desperately hoping she'd written the number right. She checked the paper in her palm once more. Room 311. Yes. Still, when Master Malachi opened the door, she gave a huge sigh of relief. She'd made it.

Her relief was short-lived, however, as he slid a blindfold over her eyes as she stood in the doorway, but not before she caught a glimpse of movement in the room. He pulled her inside, her high heels making her totter a bit, but she was sure she'd seen another person here with him. That couldn't be right...he hadn't said anything about bringing in other partners, although she'd confessed to a guilty fantasy involving multiple partners a few weeks ago...many partners and all of them men who wanted to use her for their own sexual gratification. He'd promised he'd make that dream come true. Someday.

Before Emma could get her bearings, he tugged the coat from her shoulders, effectively trapping her arms. The slip of paper floated to the floor as he spoke softly into her ear and she strained to listen.

"It is eleven o'clock, Saturday morning. Per our agreement, you are mine for the next twenty-four hours. Mine to play with, mine to command, mine to use and abuse."

She nodded her assent, though nothing he said was phrased as a question. His hand groped her pussy, rubbing the latex into her slit. She moaned, her lips parting...and a ball gag pushed against her lips. Without thinking, she opened her mouth for it before realizing his hands were busy...who was gagging her so tightly? She tried to speak, but only garbled sounds came out around the rubber ball.

"Mine to use, mine to abuse."

The mind-fuck already worked on her. "Abuse" - she loved that word. It implied so many naughty things he could do to her. They'd negotiated this, talked about it at length. Was it abuse if the action was consensual? She wanted her boundaries pushed-and pushed hard. At his hands she already knew she liked sensory play; a good flogging started her descent into subspace like nothing else. And being bound and helpless. Vulnerable. Open and unable to prevent him from doing whatever he wanted.

She leaned against his strong chest and a soft moan came from the back of her throat as he palmed her covered mound. Two weeks ago he'd asked if she'd ever thought about shaving her pussy and she had admitted to a higher than needed bikini cut, but hadn't had the courage to go further. As a result, short brown hairs curled under the red latex. He pressed his hand against her mound, the pressure establishing his possession of her body as her mind wheeled. He assailed her senses before she was even four feet into the room. Her breath quickened around the gag when she realized again that another set of hands other than his touched her. She tried counting as fingers caressed her skin, ran over her breasts, her neck, then gathered her hair off her shoulders to twist into a rough ponytail. With her arms still tangled in the coat, she couldn't stop them. But then again, with such wonderful twinges going off in her pussy, why would she want them to?

Her nipple rose to meet the finger that slipped under the latex to fondle the nub. Another moan, one she couldn't suppress, filled her throat and her head tipped back. But her mouth was full of saliva she couldn't swallow-the gag effectively trapped her tongue-and she tipped her head forward again, widening her lips in an effort to release the liquid.

"My slave." Her Master's palm on her cheek. She'd recognize that touch anywhere. His thumb ran over her cheekbone, claiming her face as his own. Pressing against his palm, she tried to let him know every part of her belonged to him. He pinched her lip, pulling it away from the gag and letting her drool.

"I own your mouth. You swallow-or don't-at my whim."

Emma's knees felt weak and she gave him her mouth. It no longer belonged to her. It was his to play with, to use in any way he wanted.

Letting go of the self wasn't something she could easily do. It took practice. A discipline of both mind and body. But over the past six months, she'd gotten better at it, more able to allow that letting go and, therefore, faster at letting it happen. And Master Malachi helped. She loved going into trance as he hypnotized her so he could speak to her subconscious. His words helped her strip away her inhibitions, her shyness, and society's strictures regarding sexuality.

Still, losing the sense of self and moving into a state where she was no longer the center of her own being, took some time. His words, his actions, everything he did to her and for her, were steps to help her go deep inside, find the self, and release it.

Her face, her mouth-they were gone to her already today. They belonged to her Master and he would use them as he wanted. Two bodies shifted around her. Hands that were not his pressed against her breasts and she felt the rock-hard chest of someone behind her. Someone tall and muscular, similar to her Master, yet not him. Someone who smelled of soap and leather with strong, powerful hands that now slid down along her arms, holding them as her coat fell away and revealed her body to their eyes.

She knew what they would see. A young woman a few months shy of her thirtieth birthday with brown hair that curled at the ends where it brushed her shoulders. Although currently hidden from view, her brown eyes, normally curious and intelligent, already lost focus as the two sets of hands on her body made themselves familiar with her curves. Because those she had.

The youthful body of her twenties had morphed into the mature body she'd take into her thirties-and beyond, if she was careful. Her breasts, more than a handful for the man who dug his fingers in deep, had always been full and her wide hips were, according to her gynecologist, "perfect for breeding" should she so desire.

She didn't desire. Having children wasn't in her future. Some women had the patience and fortitude it took to raise the little creatures. Emma did not. She had a whole different lifestyle she'd recently discovered and would much rather explore that.

"Reverse prayer."

Master Malachi's instruction, quietly delivered, brooked no disobedience. She wanted to show off for him, show the stranger how well she fulfilled her Master's commands. The strong hands let go of her wrists and she stood upright, putting her fingertips together behind her and pushing upward.

She was supple enough to do so easily. Her arms lay against her back, the palms of her hands facing each other. It was not, however, a pose she could hold indefinitely.

She didn't have to. One of them, she thought the stranger but couldn't be sure, wound a scratchy rope around her wrists, tying them in place. Another rope around her upper arms drew in her shoulders so that her breasts stuck out in front.

"I have taken your eyes." A finger brushed over the blindfold. "I have taken your mouth." The finger spread saliva over her lips. "Now I have taken your arms. Shall I take more?"

She thought she nodded, but wasn't really sure. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing, breathing that became deeper as she let go of another part of her body. Bit by bit, his words wrested her will away from her own control and she let it go, wanting him to take it all.

The stranger stepped behind her again, pressing himself against her nearly naked body. She felt the roughness of his jeans against her ass, the hardness of his cock pushing into the small of her back. Definitely tall. A thrill made her pussy tremble as she understood how large his cock was.

But that was her thinking of herself again. Thinking of how she was going to get off on whatever he had in store for her instead of how she might best please him. Drat. She'd nearly touched subspace and now it was a mile away again.

The feel of leather around her neck changed that. A high collar that wouldn't let her look down, the stiff chin rest forcing her head up. The high sides came to just under her ears. She felt him lacing it up the back, not so tight that she couldn't breathe, but tight enough that she was aware of every breath.

With it in place, she couldn't move her head. Up, down, right, left. She tried them all, testing the limits of this new device. No movement at all. The thought forced another whimper from her throat.

"You have but one desire: to please me." She felt Master Malachi's body before hers. He pulled her close and she went willingly, showing her desire in her eagerness. "I will bind you to me, mind, body-and soul. You are mine."

I am yours, she repeated in her mind, unable to express even such a simple truth out loud. I am yours.

But the pronoun felt wrong. Not "I." First person kept the sense of self and that's what she strove to expel.

"Follow me, be my slave."

Her Master tugged at the front of the collar. Must be a ring there, she surmised. Without the use of her eyes or arms or hands, unable to look down even if she wanted to, she stepped into the darkness, totally trusting her Master.

Three steps, four. Five and he stopped her. She heard a chair dragged across the carpet somewhere in front of her and then silence. No one touched her, no one spoke. Was the stranger still behind her somewhere? What were they doing?

The silence stretched from thirty long seconds to a minute. Still no one spoke, no one moved to her. She tried to move her head again, only to be stopped by the high collar. Her arms were equally immobile. She dared not take a step in any direction for fear of falling over something. She had no way to catch herself.

At first, the sound was so quiet she didn't realize she heard it. But it grew in intensity and she realized she'd been hearing it for quite some time. A slow ticking, like a clock that needed winding. Tick....tick....tick....

It skipped a beat and she frowned under her mask. The steadiness of the beat soothed her and when it missed, the world tilted for a moment. But then it resumed and she relaxed into it again.

"Listen to the rhythm, slave. Let the sound sink into your psyche."

Her breathing slowed, moving to the beat of the slow tick...tick...tick...Her mind emptied of all thoughts, hearing only the steady sound.

It skipped a beat again, a mild irritation that she should be so disturbed. The ticking resumed and her shoulders relaxed. The muscles of her face became slack as the rhythm maintained a steadiness once more.

"You are entering a trance, slave. Listen to the ticking...let it take you deeper."

Her Master's voice came to her as if down a long tunnel. It didn't disturb her, in fact, just the opposite. Going into trance was familiar and she clung to it as a lifeline. He said "deeper" and she drifted lower. She thought she felt hands on her, lowering her onto something soft, but they, too, were far away and didn't matter.

"Deeper now. You want to go deeper into trance. Listen and go deeper."

Yes, this was what she wanted. Peace. Floating in a world of nothingness. Her Master's voice continued to speak, part of her brain knew that. But this other part, it felt like being asleep and awake in the same moment. Drifting contentedly, time held no meaning. She simply breathed, knowing he spoke to her but not really aware of what he said. But then...

"Come back to me now, slave."

She didn't want to leave this wonderful cocoon he'd put her in, yet she felt lured upward by his voice, his command controlling her even in this deep place.

"I will count to five and as I do, you will become more and more awake. One...two..."

She really didn't want to wake up. This dreamlike state held her in thrall. "Three...four..."

A deep breath filled her lungs and she was aware of lying on her side on a bed.

"Five."

Her eyes flew open, although she still wore the blindfold and all she could see was darkness. But she was awake. Fully awake and as eager to please as she had been when she'd stood outside the door and knocked, hoping she had the right room.

Two sets of hands helped her to stand, then one set gently pushed her down onto her knees. But she didn't try to figure out what was going to happen next, like she usually did. Often her mind would run in six different directions and Master had to work hard to get her to focus. Right now, however, she simply waited, a small voice of hope singing in her heart, This slave is here to serve, Master. How may this slave please you?

She didn't even notice the lack of first person pronouns.

"Face down."

The stranger's hands took hold of her shoulders and guided her down so she lay on the carpet. With her bindings, her face was off the floor, but the nap was rough against her belly. She heard a metal clink, then something cold lay across the backs of her knees. Leather wrapped above the knee and a small click let her know her legs were being cuffed and locked open wide. A metal spreader bar that would keep her from putting her legs together.

The stranger did the opposite with her feet. Cuffs locked around her ankles, yes, but this time brought tightly together.

"I took your arms, now I take your legs." Her Master's voice came from far above her. Once again, she started the descent into subspace.

But that relaxed her shoulders which became a problem. The tall collar was tight when she was standing, now it was positively restrictive. She hadn't realized it before, since she held her head up. When she relaxed those muscles, however, her throat pressed against the leather and she couldn't breathe.

She didn't want to fight him, but her body had other ideas. Raising her head as much as she could, she breathed deeply. But then the muscles ached and she'd have to relax until she needed breath again and would again raise her head. Already she tired, however.

"Bring her legs up."

The stranger tugged on her ankles, tying them so they were connected to her arms. Arms that resisted the strain. If he pushed on her knees, she'd rock with the forces balanced as they were. Gagged as she was, Emma could make no protest.

But this position did nothing to help her breathing. She tried not to make noise but her tired muscles didn't pull her up fast enough and she choked a little before she got her head raised.

In answer, the stranger tugged her hastily-made ponytail, forcing her head up and away from the leather at the front of her throat. "Should've braided this first," he growled in a low voice and a tremor ran through her at the sound of his voice. Until now he hadn't spoken. It was a voice that allowed no room for discussion.

Her Master took her chin, holding it in his hand. "Do it now." His voice held the same tone, that tone of command she always loved. A tone she'd do anything to obey.

The stranger brushed her long brown hair into his hand, banding it together at the top. Something slapped against her cheek and she started. But it was gone quickly and she rested her chin in her Master's hand without protest as the stranger braided her hair.

And then he pulled her head back by her hair, fastening it to her feet and she could no longer move at all. Not a single part of her body was left for her to control. A sliver of drool slid down her chin.

"You are beautiful like that, slave."

The only sense left besides touch was hearing and it seemed the two men circled her, examining her from all angles. Her breathing was necessarily shallow in this position, her pussy spread open for them to examine, her legs raised to allow them access. But she lay on the floor and that would limit their use of her, she thought. Envisioning herself, hogtied and at their disposal, moved her deep again. The ties bound her to them as much as they bound her body.

"Lift her. I want that pussy."