Becoming a Submissive Ch. 15

-- Author's Note --

This is a novel-length story with well over a dozen chapters, and it often takes a long time to get to the smut. I strongly suggest you start with part 1, as there is a lot of character building and background.

Comments are greatly appreciated as they inspire me to keep writing.

---

Week 2, Early Saturday morning

Vic looked upon the half-dozen sleeping bodies that covered the oversized mattress in the master bedroom with a dazed feeling of disgust. Disgust with himself mostly, but the dried musk and semen clinging to his skin that he was all too eager about shortly before didn't help. It was early morning, at least an hour before dawn, and he was feeling shame and regret for the sexual acts he had just committed. This was a common emotion for Vic after a bit of kinky fun, and tonight the feeling was especially strong. He and four other men sharing two women with all of the bodily fluids and sounds that come with it were at the forefront of his mind. While at the time he was lustful and eager, now that his vitality had been spent and his lust at its lowest ebb, he felt nothing but shame and regret.

Carefully extracting himself from the tangle of limbs, Vic picked up a towel off the floor to clean himself, then thought better of it. There was no doubt this towel was dirtier than he was. Instead, he stretched, took in the view from the great bay window opposite the bed, then admired himself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, lit only by the light reflected off the snow. He took care of his body, and it showed. He, like many of the more kink-minded people he knew, liked to show his body off to all who wanted to see him. Perfect abs framed by bulging pecs and cum-gutters that ran straight to his much larger-than-average cock, which was all the more obvious as his mistress demanded he keep himself completely free of pubic hair. At least tonight he wasn't wearing a chastity cage. His mistress was passed out on the mattress between two young men and had omitted that particular part of their post-coital ritual.

Vic headed into the living room in search of something. Maybe a shower, maybe a fresh towel; he didn't know what he wanted; he just didn't want to be in that bedroom for a moment longer. He wandered into the main living room. What he found was two women, both sleeping nude on opposite couches in the glow of the last embers in the fireplace.

The first was Jen, a woman in her late 20s with her shoulder-length hair a complete mess and her limbs spread, exposing her sex for all to see. She wore no jewelry except a single leather collar around her neck. Jen was all curves and hips. By Vic's standards, she was just shy of chubby, but it was hardly noticeable with her bountiful breasts and wide hips. Jen was ostensibly owned by Cristina, his mistress as well. But Jen couldn't really be contained, let alone owned. Their mistress-sub relationship was more lip service than practice. Cristina had given Jen to him many times, and he had enjoyed every encounter. Vic smiled as he gazed upon her, recalling her body fondly. Time had worn away the shame and regret of the morning after from those memories, leaving nothing but appreciation. He knew the shame he was feeling minutes ago would fade as well.

On the opposite couch was Ashley. A college-aged petite girl with long blonde hair and good-sized breasts for such a small frame. Ashley was wearing a metal collar and barbell nipple piercings. Ashley was also wearing a chastity belt; that particular belt was one Vic recognized. Jen had arrived at tonight's party wearing it. As he casually studied the belt, Vic noticed Ashley had slipped a hand down the front of the belt and was gently fingering herself. Apparently, the girl wasn't asleep after all. Vic stood motionless as he watched Ashley's fingers tease herself with the smallest of motions. Moving her fingers up and down only a few millimeters in a very slow rhythm that matched her breathing. She clearly wanted more, but the belt prevented any penetration beyond just a fingertip teasing her clit.

The girl was absolutely gorgeous, and Vic looked forward to the next time he would be given a chance to have her. Ashley was Master Jack's newest acquisition, and Jack had so far proven to be very reluctant to share his pet. Jack had his heart broken by his previous submissive. He had sworn off taking a new sub. But apparently that heartbreak was forgotten upon meeting Ashley; within a week, she had moved in with him. While her master was infatuated with her, he still kept her as a submissive, a sex slave who must obey his every command and a certain set of ground rules. The same rules that Vic's own mistress had him follow.

Vic leaned in close to Ashley's ear and whispered. "You're not about to break Rule One, are you?"

Ashley let out a soft shriek in surprise, then yelped as the sudden motion pinched her hand in the belt. "Vic! You scared me."

"What are you doing?" He kept his face stern, but inwardly, he smiled.

"It isn't obvious? Trying to get off." Ashley said softly in frustration, not wanting to break the quiet of the room or wake Jen.

Vic grunted in exasperation. He raised an eyebrow, but the room was too dark for Ashley to see the expression.

Ashley smiled back with the slightest look of consternation. "I woke up to the sounds of you all fucking in the master bedroom; the moans practically shook the house. Unfortunately, I also woke up to see Jack had put me in chastity... again."

"With good reason, it seems. You know you're forbidden to touch yourself without permission." Vic chided her.

"Technically, it's an orgasm without permission, and I definitely wouldn't be able to do that with this on." She arched her hips slightly. "But ugh! I swear this thing is designed to tease me with every move I make."

"Yes, it is." Vic, being a man, had obviously not experienced it himself, but he had seen its effect on many women. That particular belt had been used on at least a dozen, by his memory. The fact that it was so well used probably would disgust most people, but both Mistress Cristina and Master Jack appreciated that the object had a long pedigree. The submissives come and go, but the belt continues onward. That, and a good chastity belt like that one, was expensive. Neither of them could afford to replace it with each new sub.

Ashley sat up and wrapped her hands around the small of Vic's back, pulling him close as she rested her cheek on his hip, her mouth mere inches from his still limp manhood.

"Hold me then. I don't like sleeping alone. Master is..." She paused, resentfully, and nodded her head in the direction of the master bedroom. "In there."

"I'm sure you would rather be in his arms. I can get him for you, or you can slip in and take my place. He won't mind."

"No," she said, just the hint of bitterness in her voice. "He wouldn't want that. I want you to hold me."

Ashley had put extra inflection on the word "You", and Vic realized Ashley was jealous, or at least feeling a bit rejected. She might not be consciously aware of it herself. Her desire for Vic was perhaps genuine loneliness, or perhaps a petty act of revenge to make Jack jealous in turn. He didn't know Ashley that well; if this was Jen making such a demand, he was certain it was for petty revenge and an excuse for Cristina to punish them both. Jen seems to be incapable of enjoying sex without feeling pain at the same time. To Vic, Ashley seemed to be timid, more of a natural submissive. Vic wondered if Ashley was having doubts about her new position in life as a slave, or perhaps she had a natural brat behavior like Jen lurking deep inside, ready to reveal itself.

He pushed her away slightly. "How about instead we slip into the kitchen for a drink?"

"I suppose." Ashley relented while drawing her hand out from the inside of the chastity belt. The back of her hand was red from her efforts, but undamaged.

Vic started walking towards the kitchen, expecting Ashley to follow, being careful not to disturb Jen's sleeping form. Pulling up a pair of mugs and setting hot water to boil, he motioned for Ashley to sit at the table across from him. A small part of him wanted to ask Ashley if she was okay, if she was having second thoughts about her life with Jack, but he resisted that urge. It wasn't his place to ask, and he certainly didn't want to get blamed for planting the seeds of doubt in her head. Instead, he focused on finding out more about her without letting her think he thought of her as anything other than a fellow submissive that could, and probably would, be easily replaced.

It wasn't long before the water was hot and Vic scooped a generous portion of cocoa into each mug and filled them with water, then gave each a cursory stir.

"Does Vodka make you horny or sleepy?" Vic asked while brandishing a bottle he took from the shelf over the fridge.

"First one, then the other," Ashley said sheepishly. "I'm kind of a lightweight."

"Hmmm," Vic said while setting a mug before her and giving her a small pour. "First one", he paused and smiled at her. "Then the other." He concluded as he gave her a second pour.

Vic looked at Ashley's naked form from across the table and how her long blonde hair ran down either side of her head, covering her nipples just enough, but the reflection of the barbell piercings still shining through.

He was starting to feel the need to talk to someone. Vic was normally the silent type. English not being his first language made him hesitate for fear of saying the wrong thing. But at this moment, he was ready to speak. Just being in Ashley's presence was comforting, relaxing. He could speak to her from one slave to another, as equals.

"You don't talk like this when your Master is present. You're more snippy. Like a little puppy." Vic said with a smile.

Ashley didn't see his words as an insult and had her own quip ready to go: "You're actually talking for once."

"It's true." He paused before continuing, "Being in their presence," He said while waving a hand towards the master bedroom, "it's easy just to let things be."

Ashley also paused for a moment of reflection. "Yeah. Just let things happen and ride it out."

They sat in silence for a while before Vic brought up the courage to ask another question: "Do you even go home anymore?"

She shook her head. "Not at all. There isn't much to go home to. Just an empty apartment."

"Your master's house is much nicer; it is true," Vic said matter-of-factly.

She sighed, lamenting her knowledge of what is to come. "But he says he is going to sell it. He says he cannot afford to keep it for very long. I don't want to leave."

"Then he will find a new house, and you will follow him. Your home is his home." Vic said, silently cursing at himself for his weak English skills. He was quite content to visit Cristina's home, which was a two-bedroom ranch house in a bad neighborhood. His own house was much nicer.

"But it won't be a mansion, will it?" She said ruefully, staring into her mug.

"I wouldn't call that house a mansion. Just very old and very big. You must like being his maid, and a big old house feeds that..." Vic paused, looking for the right word. "... imagining?"

"I think the word you're looking for is 'Fantasy', and... yes, I like pretending to be his maid."

"Then you must help him find a way to keep it." They took long sips of their cocoa while looking at each other. It was clear to Vic that Ashley was still horny and wanted him specifically, but between the chastity belt and him being completely drained, they would have to content themselves with looking at each other across the table for the time being.

Vic was trying to think of what to say next when Ashley saved him from his own indecision with a question of her own, "Can you tell me how you became Cristina's submissive?"

"Hrpm, Sure." Vic wasn't much for talking and especially disliked talking about himself, but he needed the distraction.

A Warm Summer Evening, Last Year

Vic had never understood the men who would sit at the bar and drink alone until tonight. He had always concluded that if you're going to sit in silence and get drunk, you may as well do it at home for less money and hassle. But tonight was different. He didn't want to go home; it was, in fact, the last place on earth he felt he could be himself, because his wife was there.

He had been married for three years. What had started as an intense love affair when they met in his home country had soured into boredom and indifference. His wife would rather drink a bottle of wine at a time and watch BBC period dramas in her sweatpants. She was a gorgeous woman who wasted her youth and beauty feeling sorry for herself, and she was dragging Vic down with her. None of it was his fault as far as Vic was concerned; at least he didn't blame himself anymore.

He had tried everything he could to get her to show the least bit of interest in him; every romantic gesture, lavish vacations they couldn't afford, he even worked out until he had killer abs and monster biceps in the thin hope he just needed to be more attractive. Nothing worked. They hadn't had sex in over a month, and it had been over a year since she showed more enthusiasm than lying in bed like a starfish. He was fairly certain she had checked her watch the last time. He knew he should divorce her, set himself free. But he had nowhere to go; most importantly, he wouldn't know what to do with himself. That kind of freedom was intimidating.

He was lonely, he was horny, he was frustrated, and most importantly, he was bored with life.

So tonight, Vic sat at the bar of the Mermaid, a combination bowling alley, restaurant, and hotel which seemed to exist solely to host weddings and birthday parties. Its one redeeming feature was that it was within stumbling distance from home. He could get blind drunk and still find his way to his front door.

Vic seethed over his predicament as he ordered another drink. At just that moment, a young woman sat at the bar next to him. She had shoulder-length brown hair and was full of curves. She wore a short skirt and a button-up blouse made of a thin material. Cotton? Polyester? Vic didn't know anything about clothes. What he did know was that he could see the bright red of her bra through it. She had the kind of body structure you saw in old paintings of nude women frolicking in gardens among dryads and cupids: wide hips, large breasts, and a big, round ass. Utterly gorgeous despite the modern beauty standards that focus on thigh gap and visible collarbones.

"Sorry, I'm not buying." He said gruffly. He wasn't accustomed to random beautiful women approaching him, except for the working girls. He didn't expect prostitutes to show up in a place like this, but everything in America was just a bit different.

"I'm not selling," the woman said with a coy smile. "I'm giving it away."

"Everyone's always selling something." This was something he understood about Americans instinctively.

"Okay, I'm not selling anything for money." She chided.

Vic raised an eyebrow and glanced over. Offering her the opportunity to keep talking.

"I'm not a whore. But unlike most women, I'm not insulted that you thought so." Again, she gave him a coy smile that stirred the libido deep within him.

"Then why are you bothering me?" He asked dismissively.

She gave him a wink and a smile. "We think you're cute, and you look lonely."

"We?" He asked as he turned to face her.

The woman gestured over to a booth on the far side of the bar. Another woman sat facing them both, her arms outstretched, splayed over the full length of the thickly padded booth bench. She too was beautiful. Long dark hair and an off-the-shoulder top, but most intriguing, she wore an underbust leather corset. Framing the woman's breasts perfectly. Vic was more than a little curious about what was covering her legs, but the table blocked his view.

"My mistress and I," the woman purred, letting the word "Mistress" slide off her tongue.

Now genuinely curious, Vic asked, "Mistress? What do you mean?"

"Come over and find out," the woman said as she started walking back to the booth.

He couldn't even lie to himself anymore; he didn't want to be alone, and the attention of two women was too intriguing to pass by. He followed the not-a-whore in the short skirt and took a seat across from the pair.

The woman waiting in the booth spoke first, "Hi. I'm Cristina, this is Jen."

"Uh, Hello. You can call me Vic." He said, stumbling over the words. He was always a bit nervous talking to beautiful women.

Cristina spoke again, "Well, Vic, you're very handsome. But I'm sure you get that all the time."

"Not really." He said honestly, thinking of the lack of attention he got from his wife.

"Not even from your wife? Why isn't she here? We have been watching you for an hour. A man like you shouldn't drink alone. So why don't you keep me company for a while?"

"She is... not here," was all he could muster. Whatever tone of voice he had used, it sent a hidden signal to Cristina.

She leaned forward as a predatory grin spread across her face. "What a shame. Drinking alone like this."

Jen slid down the booth until she was touching him, letting her hips touch his, taking his arm and draping it over her in an overly familiar embrace he wasn't going to refuse.

"Feeling a bit less lonely now?" Cristina asked, with as much sincerity as a spider.

Vic couldn't help but smile. "Yes, I think so."

Jen's hand slipped under the table and found his knee, pulling his legs apart. It was only moments later that he felt a soft foot pressing against his crotch.

"How lonely are you?" Christina asked, pulsing her foot against his crotch slightly with each word.

Vic was turned on, and he began to stiffen to her touch. But he was also wary. This kind of encounter didn't happen to normal people. This may have been how porno movies started, but it was also how horror movies started. His mind flashed to images of waking up in a bathtub full of ice and missing a kidney. But ultimately, his libido betrayed him. He couldn't say no. He hadn't gotten this much attention from a woman in a long time; losing an organ almost seemed worth it.

"She..." Vic said haltingly as he nodded towards Jen under his arm, "... said you were her mistress?"

"Yes. Jen, here is my slave." Vic raised an eyebrow. He vaguely knew about BDSM relationships, but he also knew how sensitive Americans were to the word. "Willingly, I assure you. She can walk away whenever she pleases. She chooses to serve me, and I reward her greatly."

"Oh?" Vic asked incredulously.

"I was hoping tonight you would be her reward." As she said this, she slid the plastic keycard for a hotel room in this building, the number "212" scrawled across the top in black pen.

Without another word, the two women got up out of the booth, but not before Jen planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "Hope to see you soon."

Vic sat in silence for a few minutes, just staring at the keycard in front of him, afraid to even touch it. He knew what would happen if he picked it up. He knew whatever happened in that hotel room would be more than he had ever experienced before, more than he could handle. His rational mind warned him of danger, that he would be cheating on his wife and going past a point of no return. But he couldn't resist. He realized he wanted to cheat. He wanted a good fuck with a stranger, if for no other reason than to punish his spouse for ignoring him.

He picked up the card.

Walking over to the bar, he ordered a double whiskey on the rocks and carried it with him towards the hotel room. Despite having the key in hand, he knocked. He was always polite and never acted without permission. Obedience to authority was beaten into him at a young age, literally. But there was no answer. He knocked again and waited; again, no answer.

Finally, he took a deep breath, swiped the keycard, and opened the door himself.

Inside was a slightly larger-than-average hotel room with worn carpet and faded drapes. The dreariness of the setting was offset by the scene before him. Cristina sat in a chair facing the door, her feet propped on a man kneeling on all fours before her. The man was wearing a full black latex bodysuit that covered him from head to toe. Around his neck was a leather collar, also black, that nearly disappeared among the latex covering his neck. There was just one section of exposed skin: his manhood dangling between his legs, and even that was covered by some kind of metal cage. Standing behind Cristina was Jen, her back perfectly straight and dressed almost exactly as she was before. Except now her blouse was unbuttoned, her bra removed, and she now wore a thick leather collar that matched the man in latex.

"You made it inside the door. I am pleased." Christina quipped, as if knowing that crossing the threshold took as much effort as climbing a mountain.

Vic mumbled. He was at a loss for words as the scene before him was far too distracting.

"Like what you see?" She purred.

Vic mumbled again, this time in affirmation.

"Good. You're speechless. I prefer a man who knows when to listen." She sat up in the chair, crossing her legs but not taking her feet off the kneeling man. "Now listen very carefully."

She paused and stared at him, taking his measure and reading every muscle in his face like it was a high-visibility road sign. "You can leave whenever you wish. Tonight I will not bind you or restrain you. You need only obey my every command."

He grunted in affirmation.

"I need to hear you say the words." She said, raising an eyebrow and using a slightly motherly tone.

"Yes, I will obey." Vic didn't know why he agreed; he was almost in a trance. The booze and his neglected libido were now in full control. What was left of his conscious mind wanted to see where this went, and he knew saying anything else would end the encounter.

"Strip off your clothes." Her voice was a command, not a polite suggestion.

He paused, unsure. His own modesty momentarily made the best of him.

Cristina raised an eyebrow, and after only another moment's hesitation, he obeyed. With timid haste, he did as ordered. Then he stood before her, nude. He took the opportunity to flex his abs and pecs; he couldn't help but show off just a bit.

She stood up and walked over to him, running her fingers along his chest, then letting them brush against his stiffening cock ever so slightly.

"Ooh, you are firm. Good. You are an excellent piece of meat." She paused and tried to whisper in his ear, but he was a full head taller than her, and she had to settle for whispering into his shoulder. "What are you?"

"A man," Vic said with false bravado.

"Wrong, you are meat. You are flesh, you are nothing but a fucktoy." As she said this, Cristina gave his buttocks a firm squeeze, her long nails digging into the skin, stopping just short of breaking the skin. "Now say it."

"I am meat, I am flesh, I am a fucktoy." Vic said with the countenance of a recruit at boot camp.

Cristina was still running her fingers over him, taking her time to examine her guest. Meanwhile, Vic stared straight ahead at the other man encased in latex across from him. The man remained kneeling motionless before the chair, awaiting her next command. Vic couldn't help but wonder who this man was. What had he done to humiliate himself like that? Deep down, Vic knew the answer: The man did so willingly, and Vic was being led down the same path.

"Good. You learn quickly." Cristina's words brought him out of his momentary reverie. "Jen, bend over the edge of the bed and display yourself."

"Yes, Mistress." Jen purred; the two words oozed with sex and anticipation. As if she were perfectly in control of the situation, despite being the one taking orders. She slinked slowly over to the edge of the hotel bed and bent over at the waist, pulling up her short skirt in the process, revealing she had no panties beneath. Jen spread her legs wide and stretched her arms out along the bed in front of her. The woman was on full display for Vic's benefit, and he involuntarily stiffened at the sight. Her smooth pussy and round ass were waking that animal instinct that slept deep within him.

Cristina's hand reached around and gently caressed Vic's stiffening cock. "Oh, you are a big boy, aren't you?" Vic just grunted in agreement. He knew he was well endowed, but he never felt it was something to brag about. He was more proud of the rest of his perfect physique. His body required daily attention from a lean diet and constant exercise. That was something he created himself; the size of his cock was just an accident of genetics.

She reached down and squeezed his balls. The momentary pain made him flinch in shock, but as soon as she released, he found his cock was even firmer, even more at full attention. "Do you like what you see? Does my slave appeal to you?"

"Yes." Vic gasped in a whisper.

The breath had no sooner escaped his mouth when Cristina's hand tightened in a vice-grip, and Vic gasped again, this time in true pain. "Wrong answer. Try again."

"Yes... Mistress." Vic said. What was expected of him seemed obvious, almost natural. As soon as he said it, her grip on his balls relaxed, but she did not release him. Instead, she pulled his ballsack downwards towards the floor, forcing him to follow. "Now kneel for me."

Vic was kneeling in a position much like the man wrapped in latex, who remained silent and motionless, staring at the floor. But Vic's eyes were still firmly fixated on Jen's exposed pussy, which was now at eye level and just a few feet away.

"Do you want to leave?" Cristina asked, her voice a sultry purr Vic couldn't refuse.

"No, Mistress." He replied in a gasp; he was starting to breathe heavily from his own arousal.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" She asked, knowing the answer.

"Yes, Mistress." This time with just a bit of hesitation. If he was truly being honest with himself, he wasn't entirely sure he was enjoying it. But the promise of sex was too powerful. He couldn't have walked away now, no matter what she did to him.

Cristina smiled as she spoke, pausing between each word. "Do you want to fuck my slave?"

"Yes, Mistress, Please." That last word escaped his lips without conscious thought. He wasn't accustomed to begging for anything, but at this moment, his libido was screaming for his chance at the female body displayed before him.

"Have you ever been flogged before?" As she said this, he could hear the sound of leather gently striking skin behind him. She was casually slapping a flogger against her own hands.

"No, Ma'am." He knew what was coming next. He was starting to wonder if he was in a horror movie after all, but he was too proud and horny to back away now.

"I am going to strike you..." She paused, looking for a number she felt was appropriate. "...25 times. You are going to do the counting for me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress." He gasped.

"Begin!" She shouted as the first strike lashed his exposed back. It stung, but it wasn't the worst pain he ever felt, not even close. She was giving him her full strength, but a lifetime of hard living had given him a more unique perspective on what real pain was like, and she wasn't particularly strong. This was nothing.

"One," he said firmly.

She kept swinging as he kept count. As the number grew, the pain intensified as subsequent strikes began landing on the same skin that had been lashed before. In normal circumstances, this experience would be painful and uncomfortable. But his nudity and his proximity to a woman's spread legs and exposed sex waiting for him awoke more of the animal instinct that lurked within him. His fight-or-flight response to pain was replaced by an urge to fuck. The pain was barely a distraction now; if anything, it stimulated him. His cock grew harder, and his breath shorter. By the time he counted to 20, he was starting to flinch, not from the blows, but from the repressed urge to leap forward and have his way with Jen, who was waiting for him.

"Twenty-Five," Vic growled with satisfaction. He was ready to pounce on Jen, and it took every bit of concentration to restrain himself.

Cristina leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Fuck my slave, and fuck her hard. I want to hear her scream. But..." she paused, letting the word hang in the air for several seconds. "You cannot cum until I give permission. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress," Vic growled.

"Now get to fucking, man-meat." She commanded. Her words were sultry and dominating. They were utterly irresistible.

Vic immediately stood up and gripped either side of Jen's hips and pulled himself into her. She squealed with delight, then gasped as his full length filled her small frame. She was already wet and more than ready, listening to his lashing had excited her as much as him. He knew she was in just a little bit of pain from his size, but Vic didn't care, and it was clear Jen was enjoying it nonetheless. He pounded his hips into her at a rapid pace, letting his mind go blank and letting his instincts take over, his eyes rolling back in his head as he lost track of every sensation except for the flesh around his cock. Jen was just as much of a piece of meat to him now as he was to Cristina.

Cristina sat on the edge of the bed to watch Vic's performance, letting one hand slip between her own legs to softly touch herself. She was nowhere near ready to get off, but she knew what would happen next. She briefly considered reminding Vic he didn't have permission to cum, but she wanted him to lose control. She wanted the excuse to punish him.

Vic let out a sudden moan as he came, filling Jen with his seed as his rapid humping came to a close. Jen, in turn, let out a squeal of delight and a moan of her own, enjoying having a man cum inside her for the first time in weeks. As his mind came back to reality, Vic was a little embarrassed about how little endurance he had, but he felt waves of relief and pleasure wash over him. He felt utterly satisfied for the first time in longer than he could remember. Vic took a few steps back and collapsed into the chair Cristina had occupied when he entered the room.

Christina walked over to the latex-wearing man and pulled him forward to Jen's pussy, now dripping with Vic's spilled seed.

"Clean my slave, dog," she commanded, and with no other prompting, the man eagerly began lapping semen from Jen's sex and bringing forth a new set of moans from her. With the man fully engaged, Christina produced a key from around her neck and unlocked the steel cage that encased the man's cock and balls. The cage fell to the floor; the man's cock instantly began to stiffen. He paused from his tonguing of Jen just long enough to groan, "Thank you, Mistress," before returning to his duties.

Vic sat in the chair, utterly spent and slightly dazed. He listened to Jen moan and watched her writhe in pleasure at the man's tongue through half-closed eyes. Normally, he was quite clear-headed after sex, but this time, he was still hypnotized. The thrill of the best sex in years was now expressed through sheer exhaustion.

"And now for your punishment," Cristina said with glee as she stood before Vic, blocking his view. She grabbed the latex man by the collar and pulled him over towards Vic's crotch.

"Clean him, dog," Christina commanded. The man leaned in, opening his mouth with tongue outstretched, ready to give the same attention to Vic's manhood as he had done to Jen's pussy.

Vic flinched, instinctively closing his legs and becoming fully aware of his surroundings. "This is punishment?"

"You're having a negative reaction, aren't you?" Cristina said with satisfaction. "Feeling a bit humiliated and uncomfortable?"

Vic stammered and mumbled before finally working up the courage to say, "Yes."

"Good, that's the point. Humiliation is a punishment all its own. And remember the door is right there. You can say no. You can leave."

Vic started to get up, but stopped himself. For reasons he didn't understand, he felt more shame at the prospect of leaving, of disappointing Cristina, than having another man's mouth around his cock. He relaxed and spread his legs again and let out a sigh. "Fine," he said in resignation to his fate.

Her hand lashed out and struck Vic across the face in a flash. "Wrong! That is not how you address your Mistress."

"Yes, ma'am." Vic struggled to find the right words in a sea of conflicting emotions. Submitting to her seemed less appealing now that he had his orgasm, but he couldn't bring himself to end the encounter either. "My body is yours to do as you wish." He said haltingly, growing accustomed to the proper manners she expected.

"That's better." She gave the latex-wrapped man a soft tap with her fingers. "Resume."

Vic closed his eyes and leaned back, doing his best to relax as a man's mouth and tongue ran around every inch of his cock, balls, and inner thighs. After a few minutes, the feeling of shame subsided, and he started to begrudgingly enjoy it. Reminding himself he was the one being serviced after all, this other man was far more humiliated.

He slowly opened his eyes as the mouth was unexpectedly removed; Vic watched Cristina take the discarded chastity cage and place it around Vic's limp manhood. She produced the small padlock that she had unlocked before and re-locked the enclosure with a firm "click". His cock and balls were now caged exactly as the latex-wrapped man was when Vic entered the room.

He didn't flinch or object to her doing this; Vic simply watched it happen with dazed indifference. As if his penile imprisonment wasn't real and wasn't happening to him, just a vivid dream and nothing more. He was too drunk and relaxed to be fully aware of the implications.

Vic looked up to see Cristina guiding the latex man onto the bed, taking Jen's place as Jen slid onto the floor in a post-orgasm daze of her own. The man now lay on the bed with his cock fully erect. A pale tower contrasted against a sea of black latex. In a well-practiced motion, she unzipped her skirt and let it drop to the floor. Revealing that she, like Jen, wasn't wearing underwear. Her pussy was shaved smooth and perfectly framed by a garter belt and stockings.

Not bothering with more foreplay, Christina climbed onto the bed, her knees straddling either side of the man. Using one hand, she guided herself onto the waiting member, then brought herself up and down upon it in a slow rhythmic motion, keeping her eyes locked on Vic.

Vic's eyes widened as he realized she wanted to see his reaction, to see how he responded to watching her fuck another man before him. To both of their satisfaction, he enjoyed the show. He liked listening to her soft moans and the arch of her back as she fondled her own breasts and hair in rhythmic pleasure. The latex man tried his best to lie still, straining to keep his own pleasure under control so that he wouldn't release before being given permission, as Vic had.

He could feel his own cock begin to stiffen, ready for a second round when it hit the limits of the cage. His cock began to strain against it, but the shape of the device made it impossible. The feeling reminded him of being aroused while wearing tight pants, uncomfortable but not unbearable. He soon realized he would never be able to cum while wearing the cage, but his breath still quickened in pace with her gyrations, and after watching Cristina writhe for several minutes, she broke eye contact and looked down at her plastic-wrapped slave.

"Cum for me." She commanded between gasps, and the slave obeyed. With a loud moan, the man's hips bucked hard, and Cristina let out a moan of her own. Semen flowed out as she kept humping the rapidly softening cock. The man had produced more semen than Vic had thought possible. With just a bit of jealousy, he wondered what kind of diet or orgasm control gave the man such prowess. It was clear Cristina enjoyed the bounty as she pulled herself free and just let herself drip over the man's abdomen. A white river running freely along the smooth black latex.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" She asked. She was looking alert and refreshed as she ran a single finger through the fluid before licking it off her fingers.

He was in such awe of the performance that it took a moment for Vic to realize she was talking to him. "Yes," was all he could muster.

"Do you want to see me again? Do you want to continue to be my slave?"

Vic paused. With his lust satisfied, he was suddenly reminded he had a home and wife to return to. He felt immensely guilty for what he had just done. He had cheated on his wife; affairs were something other people did, bad people. Not people like him. But another darker thought crept into his mind: Satisfaction and revenge. All of that bottled-up sexual frustration was released, and his wife probably wouldn't even notice if he came home tonight smelling like sex.

"Yes." The word escaped his lips before he fully realized the implications. With that one word, a one-night stand was now going to be an ongoing affair.

"Are you going to tell your wife?" Christina asked with an evil grin in her eyes.

Shaking his head with what he thought was an obvious answer. "Of course not."

"What if I command you to?" She asked, her grin widening.

"What?" Vic stammered in surprise.

Cristina licked her fingers again before continuing. "I want your wife to know. I want to look her in the eye and tell her I fucked her husband. That is the only condition under which you will see me again."

Vic immediately realized that the prospect of cuckolding was a massive turn-on for her, but not just the action itself, but to see the emotional reaction of the victimized spouse. Demonstrating her control and domination not just in the bedroom, but also in their social lives.

Vic wasn't sure how to proceed; he didn't know what was going to happen next, but he knew he wanted to see Cristina again.

Sensing his hesitation, she began laying out his instructions. "You are going to invite your wife out to dinner tomorrow. Get a table for three, and I will join you. After a few drinks and being sociable, I will tell your wife what we did." She licked her lips and tilted her head back, her eyes focused on something very far away, as if recalling a fond memory. "Then the fireworks start."

The blood ran from his face as he contemplated the prospect. His wife would probably leave him on the spot. Possibly make a scene at the restaurant. She tended to throw tantrums when she didn't get what she wanted. While she neglected him, he knew she saw him as a possession. Something she kept on a shelf to be admired, but never shared.

Once again, the evil grin spread across Christina's face as she watched Vic's horrified reaction.

"And this... thing?" Vic asked, gesturing to the steel cage around his cock.

"If you want to enter my service, you will still be wearing it at dinner." Sensing his predicament, Cristina purred. "You can, of course, walk away. I will take the cage off you, and we will never see each other again."

She then leaned in and ran her fingers along his inner thigh. "But you don't want that, do you? You're already mine. You just haven't admitted it to yourself."

"What if my wife notices?" Vic asked incredulously.

She smiled with utmost confidence. "I think we both know she won't."

Vic let out a long, deep sigh. While his manhood was physically caged, he realized he was in an emotional cage far more unbearable. He would throw the die and see how they land.

"I should go." He said while getting up and pulling his jeans, struggling for a minute to get the cage tucked inside them.

Christina pulled him forward with one hand while running the other along his ass, then kissed him deeply on the lips before pulling back. "Call me Mistress one more time before you go."

"Mistress." Vic gasped. He wanted her again; he couldn't resist.

Week 2, Saturday Morning just before Dawn

Ashley's spiked hot cocoa had long since been drained, and she listened to Vic's story with rapt attention. When he concluded, her jaw hung slightly open. Vic had stopped talking and just stared off into the distance absent-mindedly. He wasn't one to let his mind wander like that, but being reminded of how he entered the lifestyle caused him to have a bit more introspection than he was accustomed to.

"But what happened when you met with your wife? Who was the man in the latex? You can't stop telling your story now!" Ashley exclaimed in a whisper, being careful not to wake the household.

Vic smiled, ready to continue. He opened his mouth to start speaking again when a yell was heard from the living room. They both got up, their moment of quiet camaraderie over, and rushed to the living room.

"You fucking bitch!" Daisy was wearing a bathrobe while shouting at Jen, with one hand grabbing Jen's hair, the other raised to strike the submissive. Jen was still lying naked on the couch, a cackle of glee clearly on her face.

"You selfish, useless, horrible bitch." Daisy screamed as she slapped Jen across the face again.

"What happened? What did she do?" Shawn asked, genuinely confused as he fumbled with his own bathrobe.

"She carved the word 'Slut' across the mold of Ashley we made yesterday. It's ruined." Daisy slapped Jen again, then demanded, "Why? Why did you do it?"

"Because Ashley gets all the attention lately. And I wanted some. Punish me. I've been bad."

Ashly walked up to Daisy and gave her a hug. "I don't mind that it says 'slut'. I... I kind of like it actually. I am a slut now. Just leave it as is."

Daily gently pushed Ashley away as she spoke, "I appreciate the thought, sweetie, but this is a mold, not the final product. If I use it now, it will say 'TLUS' across the front of your otherwise perfect chest."

"We can make another then. We can do it today." Ashley persisted. Trying her best to be an intermediary.

Daisy let out a sigh. "We can, but it's not going to be the same. It will be a replica."

"Stop being such a drama queen," Shawn consoled her. "Ashley here can be your muse for many pieces to come."

'You're supposed to punish me!" Jen shouted, while stamping her feet like a toddler. No one understood why she was suddenly acting this way. It was a complete personality shift from the demure but bratty sub she was the night before.

Cristina finally came into the room, with Jack following close behind. "We heard the whole thing from the bedroom. I'm sorry my slave acted out. She gets like this sometimes. She usually calms down," Cristina paused and let out an exasperated sigh, "... in a few hours at most."

Daisy would not be placated and spoke gruffly, "This isn't your fault, and you don't need to take responsibility for her actions. Playing Master/Slave is done for the day as far as I'm concerned. This crossed from fun and bratty to malicious."

Jack smirked. "Now you know how I feel." The memory of Jen doing a similar act of vandalism to his antique desk was still fresh in his mind, despite it happening so long ago.

Cristina turned to Jen, her own anger rising. "You want punishment? You want attention? Is that it?"

"Yes!" Jen said with a manic laugh. "Do it! I need it. I am a very bad girl." Ashley was familiar with masochism before, but never had she seen someone so desperate to feel pain.

Cristina leaned over and had a short whispered conversation with Jack. He nodded along, then he took the key around his neck and passed it to Cristina. Then they both turned and looked directly at Ashley.

"Present!" Jack barked at Ashley. She obeyed. She spread her legs apart slightly and placed her hands on the back of her neck. The submissive positions had been drilled into her and the movement came naturally, but she was confused about why she was suddenly the one being given commands instead of Jen.

Cristina stepped forward, brandishing the key. With practiced hands, she unlocked the chastity belt around Ashley's waist and immediately moved towards Jen.

"Present yourself, slave." Cristina barked at her own submissive. Jen obeyed eagerly, the manic gleam still in her eye. She was eagerly anticipating the coming punishment.

"Don't smile quite so wide, my pet. You crossed a line today." She walked around Jen slowly, in a circle. "We both know what you really want is to get the fucking of a lifetime. To have all the men here put their dick in every one of your holes and make you beg for mercy."

"Yes, Mistress." Jen unabashedly wanted exactly that. Her face was a mixture of defiance and glee. "I need punishment for what I have done. I deserve to be abused."

"Well, you are going to be very disappointed." Mistress Cristina then put the chastity belt around her misbehaving slave and locked it in place. Then, she did something that surprised everyone watching. She twisted the key back and forth until it snapped off inside the lock.

"You are now in permanent chastity," Christina said with malice. "Your pussy isn't going to have so much as a finger for a long time."

Jen simply smiled. "I still have my mouth, and this belt leaves a space for my asshole. You only have one hole covered." She then smiled again, before adding, "Mistress," in mocking defiance.

"For now," Cristina said, an evil smile rising on her lips. "I normally enjoy your brattyness. But you not only vandalized a work of art, but you embarrassed me. Shaming me is something I will not tolerate."

Cristina walked around Jen again, slowly, like a predator circling her prey. "I don't know what to do for the next phase of your punishment. Everything I can think of, you will almost certainly enjoy." Then her face lit up with a flash of inspiration.

"Paul?" Christina said over Jen's shoulder. Paul, the man who was as new to the group as Ashley, had been quietly watching in the background.

"Uh, Yes?" He said with genuine shock on his face. He didn't want to get dragged into this altercation.

"How would you punish someone who enjoys pain more than pleasure?" Cristina asked the man in a tone like he was a student in a classroom.

He paused, not dumbfounded, but in genuine concentration. Paul, despite his otherwise meek demeanor, hid a quiet and contemplative mind. After a long silence, he spoke. "Make her do something boring. Exceptionally boring. No pain, no sex, just doing nothing."

Cristina smiled back at him. "This man knows how to handle this wildcat." She then turned to Jen. "Go stand in the corner facing the wall until I release you. You may not touch or lean against anything. Both feet must remain on the floor at all times. Understood?"

"Pfft. Make me," Jen retorted as soon as Cristina finished speaking.

Cristina raised a single eyebrow high while keeping the other furrowed, a unique expression she never practiced but few could replicate. "If you do not obey. I will release you from my service. We are done. You have crossed the line from being a playful brat to being a nuisance. Now stand like a good little slave until I forgive you."

This statement actually stopped Jen short. A scenario she had never considered. Losing her mistress. In her world, everything she did was playful fun with few consequences. The thought of losing her Mistress was a dagger to the heart. She walked to the corner of the room and just stood there, both motionless and in silence.

Then Cristina clapped her hands. "Well, now that unpleasantness is out of the way. Who's ready for breakfast? Vic, I apologize for the short notice, but can you whip something up for us all?"

Vic simply smiled and bowed slightly. "Yes, Mistress." With the tilt of his head, he indicated that Ashley should follow him. He then turned and retreated to the kitchen.

They went into the kitchen together. Vic handed her a pair of long undyed strips of cotton cloth. They resembled scarves, except they were heavily stained and well worn.

"What's this?" Ashley asked, genuinely curious. Vic had taken one for himself and began wrapping it around his waist and between his legs. Within seconds, he had fashioned a very primitive loincloth out of it.

Vic gave a quick reply in his thick Slavic accent, "Wrap yourself. Shawn and Daisy dislike nudity in the kitchen. Body hair gets into food."

Ashley held the bundle of cloth incredulously before asking, "Isn't there an apron? I'd like an apron."

"No." He replied without looking up, "Just these. They like it when the slaves look like slaves."

"The house elf doesn't get any clothing," Ashley mumbled to herself cheerfully as she fumbled with the fabric. Vic ignored her while he began taking food out of the fridge. Before long, she had fashioned her own loincloth and even managed to take a second strip to make a reasonably functional bra. She had become more than accustomed to nudity, yet she had to begrudgingly admit that the whole getup was very comfortable. She wished there was a mirror nearby to admire her new look.

"Less fussing, more chopping," Vic said sternly as he pushed a cutting board loaded with a mix of vegetables towards her.

They worked in silence. Vic managed to put together a half dozen plates of omelets. Ashley was even able to scrounge up orange juice and champagne to serve mimosas. When they exited the kitchen together, loaded with trays of food, they found the rest of the snowed-in guests had made themselves comfortable. Everyone was either fully dressed or still in bathrobes. Except Jen, who still stood naked in the corner, in silence. Pete and Robbie were nowhere to be seen.

Ashley knelt on the floor next to Jack as she presented him with his breakfast. She raised the tray above her head while she looked down at the floor. She didn't bother preparing a plate for herself. She knew he would eat less than half of what was presented to him, leaving her with his leftovers. "Every movement, a reminder of my servitude," she reminded herself. Being useful to her master calmed her; She could focus on her submission instead of the dull ache of her new tattoo below her belly button and the commotion of Jen's outburst.

The Doms in the room, or more correctly everyone who wasn't wearing a collar, chatted amiably as they enjoyed a lazy Saturday morning. Ashley wondered where Pete and Robbie had gone when she heard the familiar scrape of a shovel against concrete and realized the truth of the matter; the young men had been put to work shoveling snow.

Ashley leaned against the couch as Master Jack played with her hair. She mostly ignored the conversation and instead daydreamed about her new life as a submissive. Wondering what her new tattoo would look like and what was in store for her next. The previous night had been hard on her body, and her throat was still a little sore, but it was exhilarating. She had never been held in an orgasmic trance quite like that before. She got a little lightheaded just thinking about it, causing her to curl up closer to Jack as she let her mind wander. Jack fed her small bites from his plate as he kept absentmindedly touching her, playing with her hair and gently caressing her bare skin. Each gentle touch was a reminder that he was thinking about her, even if he wasn't acknowledging her. She relaxed into being his pet, content to be still and enjoy his company.

But she did pick up one interesting tidbit: They were all planning on meeting at Ground Zero tonight: The Goth and BDSM club where she had met Jack. She had not been back since they met. That put a thrill of excitement in her. She wanted to dance; she wanted to show off her new collar; she wanted to show off her new master. Ultimately, she wanted to just show off. Be seen. Be the center of attention.

As the couples chatted, Jen would make the occasional moan of boredom, which her Mistress would admonish her for, and she went back to being ignored. Eventually Pete and Robbie returned from outside and happily devoured the leftovers. With the driveway cleared and the roads declared passable, Nate and Sarah went home, offering to drive Pete and Robbie home in the process.

As the morning wore into early afternoon, Jen's moans of boredom had transitioned to moans of pain. By this point she had been standing in place, without moving, for hours. Everyone else played cards and gossiped as if Jen was just part of the furniture. Enjoying each other's company. Ashley realized from her spot on the floor this was a family, a very strange, probably very broken, family. Everyone had fucked everyone else many times. Everyone knew everyone else's deepest secrets. There was an openness among them she had never seen with her own friends, and certainly not her own family. When someone made a joke about cock sucking, ass fucking, infidelity, or any other taboo that would be considered outlandish among polite company, here it was genuine experience.

The jovial camaraderie ended when Jen finally collapsed. The conversation stopped immediately, everyone concerned for Jen's well-being. Except for Cristina, who simply mocked Jen's collapsed form, "She's probably faking it."

Shawn bent down to check on her. "She hadn't passed out; she just couldn't be on her feet any longer." His voice was still laced with concern.

"Well, that's too bad," Cristina said derisively. "I didn't give her permission to collapse."

"Seriously?" Shawn admonished. "This little game has gone on long enough, I think. Her feet are swollen and red."

"Don't care," Cristina said, genuine malice in her voice. "She reached my annoying brat limit. It's time I traded her to another Dom."

Upon hearing these words, Jen let out a cry of protest. "No! Mistress please! I can stand again. One more chance!" Jen tried to stand, but her feet simply would not allow it. She collapsed back onto the floor. She wouldn't be standing any time soon.

"Sorry. But I keep my promises." Cristina said with an evil smile. It wasn't clear if she really meant she was releasing Jen from her service, or just dragging the little game on a bit longer. She turned to address Paul, who was the architect of Jen's current predicament. "Paul?"

"Uhh. What?" Again, Paul was dumbfounded that he was getting pulled into this little drama play again.

"Are you interested in having a slave?" Cristina asked mischievously. Glancing over to Jen to gauge her reaction as she said it.

"Please, Mistress, no!" Jen cried, kneeling before her mistress and kissing her feet. "Don't give me away. I'll be good, I promise."

Paul was as new to this lifestyle as Ashley, but he had not dived in headlong as Ashley had. He had only picked up Jen at a party and somehow kept getting pulled back into their little group. He always stayed at the edges, hiding in the background, keeping quiet, but otherwise enjoying the hedonism these gatherings always had on offer.

He cleared his throat after a few seconds of consideration, "I guess, but not if she's unwilling. That's not how this works. You taught me that."

"Oh, I think she is willing." Cristina chided him. "Jen, you are owned by Paul until I decide to take you back. If you are unhappy with this arrangement, you can just say 'No' and go back to being an uncollared nymphomaniac with no one to protect you. But you are not my slave anymore."

Jen sniffled back a genuine tear. "I... I am okay with that. I know you'll take me back eventually." She then crawled over to Paul. "I will be a good slave for you. I will do as you say." As she spoke, she reached out her hands to start rubbing his crotch from outside his pants. Desperate to demonstrate how appreciative she would be.

"Not likely," Jack chortled. As he spoke, he pulled Ashley closer and wrapped a hand around her waist. Both reassuring Ashley that he would never give her up so easily, and that he appreciated Ashley's version of demure submissiveness rather than the attention-seeking brat of Jen.

Paul was still unsure if this entire drama was theater for his benefit. The tears, the emotion, actually giving a human being away as if it was an unwanted pet. It all seemed so unreal. But one thing he had learned over the years: Fake it until you make it. He stood up a little straighter and looked Cristina dead in the eyes. "And the chastity belt? What's the point of a slave if I can't fuck her?"

Cristina licked her lips slightly and smiled her most wicked grin. "Not my problem. Keep it on her for as long as you like. All you need to do is hose her down with warm water to keep it sanitary. Drop her off at Jack's place when you're bored with her; she becomes his problem."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Like hell I'm going to take her in." Giving Ashley another firm caress as he said it. Ashley wasn't sure if he was pulling her in to protect her, or himself.

Cristina laughed and spoke to Jack mockingly, "Isn't this the situation you built that darkroom for, when Jen is acting out, and we don't want to deal with her?"

Jack signed, resigned. "Ugh. You're right. I have no idea why I built that thing. Waste of time and money."

"Well, I enjoyed it." Ashley chimed in, slipping her own arm around her master. Speaking and reaching out to her master was a breach of protocol. But for some reason she knew he needed it right then. She could sense something was bothering him, even if he didn't know it himself.

As if taking a cue from Ashley, Jack reached out and put a hand on Paul's shoulder. "She's impossible to handle, but you'll figure it out. Keep her off her feet for a day or two. Then stop over Sunday afternoon. I'll get the key out of that belt, then you can have her back or leave her with me."

"Ha! I'm cutting that belt off as soon as we're home." He looked down at Jen and gave her a grin. "I know exactly how I'm going to keep her off her feet." He chuckled at his own joke, which drew a few titters from the others.

Jen looked up at Paul and gave her first real smile of the day. "You will?" She paused and corrected herself. "I mean, You're going to keep me off my feet for the whole weekend... Sir?"

"Yes," Paul said with growing confidence. "Your legs are going to be in the air all weekend."

Jen let out an excited shriek and hugged Paul's legs, her own legs still too weak to stand. "I'll be a good slave for you, master. I promise."

"No, you won't," Paul said jovially as he picked her up and started carrying her to the door. The small man was surprisingly strong.

Shawn rushed over and wrapped Jen's naked form in a jacket. "For god's sake, don't carry naked women through the front lawn!"

"Goodbye, mistress!" Jen said with glee. "My new master is going to spoil me with the dick you don't have!" Cristina crossed her arms and glowered in response as she watched Jen get let out the front door.

The change in Jen's attitude was a whirlwind for Ashley. The woman went from tears to joy in seconds. As if she never gave a single thought to anything other than the current moment. She was transfixed watching Jen be carried out the door in her new Master's arms. Cristina had dismissed Jen so easily. Her most beloved pet to nothing in a day. She wondered if perhaps this was all an act. Everyone in on the joke except her. But deep in her gut she knew it was real. At least some of it. It was only her master's soft voice that broke Ashley away from her reverie.

"Come, my pet, it's time we head home too. We have just enough time for you to make dinner and get ready before we head out the GZ tonight." Jack said as he grabbed her by the hand and led her towards the door.

"Sir," Ashley asked softly, with just a little bit of worry in her voice, "Did Mistress Cristina really just give away Jen like that?" What was left unspoken was her own fear that she too would be traded away so easily.

"Not really," Jack said as he untied Ashley cloth wraps, restoring her naked form and attaching a collar. "It's all an act." He paused, then added, "Well, mostly an act. Jen is a wild child, but she's still a consenting adult. Breakups among this crowd are... complicated."

Ashley chuckled to herself at that last part. "It's complicated" had become the mantra of most normal relationships of her generation. Polyamorous kinksters made everything else look easy.

He put a finger under her chin, lifting it and forcing Ashley to look him in the eyes. "You understand that, right? This is all a giant game we play. You're not really my slave. You can leave whenever you want."

"I..." Ashley paused as she touched the bandage over her new tattoo, her permanent mark showing her commitment to being owned by her master. "I know. I think a part of me wishes it was real."

Jack laughed. "It is as real as you want it to be, my pet." He bent forward and kissed her on the lips. "You're my slave until you choose to leave. I won't trade you away so easily."

Ashley looked over her master's shoulder and gave a longing glance at Vic, who was helping his own mistress into her coat, and asked, "But would you give me to other men sometimes?"

"Probably, when the mood suits me." He paused to kiss her again before continuing, "But I see you as my precious treasure. Not to be thrown away so easily as Jen was today." He said softly, reassuring her. "You can always say no to that too. It's okay to say 'no' sometimes." Ashley nodded as Jack led her outside and to his car. She took a deep breath as the cold winter air filled her lungs and slipped under her coat. Dancing against her naked skin beneath. She didn't know what she wanted. She was not just content; she had never been happier in her life. Yet she still wanted more.