My Masters Collar - Ch. 18

My Master's Coat of Arms

I sat in an armchair in the living room and smoothed down my new dress. Dark blue silk, a beautifully shimmering fabric. It tapered into a corset that emphasized my waist and lifted my breasts a little. I had had it made for this day, and in my opinion I looked shamelessly good in it. But today it was absolutely appropriate that I stole the show from everyone, because it was my day.

Placein my hand on my lap I imagined to feel how smooth and soft my skin was underneath. This morning, for the first time since my enslavement, I had been allowed to shave my pussy again, and I had enjoyed it. It was smooth and soft again, just the way I liked it, except for a narrow strip along the labia.

The day had gone perfectly so far. In the morning I had prepared a little surprise for my Master. We were lying in bed and my hands were still chained to the bed frame when Mette served us morning coffee. She wore a charming maid's costume with a narrow waist, bare breasts, and an exposed crotch. But that wasn't what caught our Master's attention. He looked her over: "Have you been ringed?" "Yes, Master," Mette replied, blushing a little: "My Mistress had my tits and my cunt decorated with rings." She opened her legs and pulled her outer labia apart. It was clearly visible: her inner lips bore four small rings, just like mine. After our Master had examined her, she lifted her breasts and presented her ringed nipples.

"Your Mistress has excellent taste."

"Thank you," I replied, flattered, and turned onto my side, facing the two of them: "We'll hang little bells on the nipple rings later."

My Master looked impressed, then frowned: "How long can't you be used?" he asked Mette abruptly.

She flinched slightly; she had feared the question: "The cunt has to heal for two weeks," she answered.

He pointed first at me, then at her: "You'll both be punished for that, count on it."

"Yes, Master," I said submissively; I hadn't expected anything else. "Does my Master still permit me to use the slave?" I asked.

He nodded: "It's your big day, go ahead."

"Come here, slave," I commanded Mette, "lick me clean!" I turned onto my back again, opened my legs, and she obediently began to clean my pussy of the traces of the night and the morning fuck while our Master drank his coffee and watched us with interest.

After breakfast my Master took me to the tattoo artist to mark me as his property. Now, above my pussy, halfway to the navel, I wore our combined initials and his coat of arms with the date of my possession. The same tattoo was also on my right shoulder blade. I was incredibly proud. No matter which of my fuck-holes was used, one would always be able to see whose slave I was.

I felt as though I had wings all day at work. I was forbidden to touch myself, but during my lunch break I had let Mette lick me during the lunch break and enjoyed it.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Any moment now, my Master would arrive to collect me. We were meeting our friends that evening, and he would claim me in front of them all. I would show everyone that he had marked me and that I now belonged to him irrevocably.

I was standing once again on the diving platform, but this time I was not afraid. I knew where I would land and who would catch me.

Nervously, I wrung my hands and checked for the hundredth time that my clothes were clean and my hair was in place. When the doorbell finally rang, I sighed with relief, picked up my little jacket, put it on, and went to the front door. On the way, I noticed the parcel that had arrived that day. Deliveries were ordinary enough; I had noticed this one only because it bore a large red sticker reading "Personal and confidential!" There had to be a reason for that, and my Master would know what it was.

Two bearded men in work overalls stood outside when I opened the door. "Morning, ma'am. We've got an oversized delivery here," one said, gesturing toward a van parked in our driveway with its side door open. I frowned. "I haven't ordered anything." He silently handed me a clipboard with a delivery slip, and I skimmed it. The address, my Master's name--everything was correct. "Come along, then. I'll show you where it goes." We walked to the van, and I leaned curiously inside.

Suddenly, everything went dark. I cried out--someone had pulled a hood over my head! Before I could understand what was happening, two ruthless hands grabbed me and shoved me into the van. I stumbled, fell onto what felt like a mattress, and heard the metal sliding door roll shut behind us. I struggled and tried to scream, but someone clamped a hand over my mouth. My arms were twisted behind my back, and I felt them binding my wrists and ankles. Seconds earlier, I had been standing unsuspectingly outside my home; now I lay helpless on the floor of a vehicle. "Come on, get the package!" one man shouted. Then someone climbed in and shut the door. We drove off. I stopped struggling; it was useless. The men held me firmly against the floor.

I could not tell how long we drove. It seemed endless. Eventually, the men let go of me. I lay helpless on the mattress and heard the sounds of city traffic. They had stopped covering my mouth, so I shouted for help as loudly as I could.

"That screaming is getting on my nerves," a man said. "Let's gag her again. I've got an old pair of underpants that'll do the job."

I heard the others laugh and stopped shouting. There was no point. "Please don't," I said desperately. "I'll be quiet."

"Will you be nice to us then if we leave the gag off?" Under my hood I nodded. "I mean really nice?" I nodded again. "All right, now you can show us what you've got," said the voice. I felt the hood being pushed up a little until my mouth was free.

"Open your trap!"

I obeyed. The next moment I had a half-hard cock in my mouth. I gasped, wanted to pull my head back, but a hand held it firmly, pressed me forward. "No drama now, doll. Come on, spoil me." When I hesitated I got a slap on the ass: "Get on with it, we don't have forever," said the voice. Resigned, I began to suck on the member until the unknown man was satisfied. I had to service three cocks with my mouth until we finally arrived.

A garage door opened, then the car rolled slowly inside and the door closed behind us. "Shame," said one of the men, "it was just getting good." He sighed and pulled his cock out of my mouth. Then someone pulled the hood back over my head and clipped a leash to my collar. "Time for you to meet the boss. He's already very curious." They led me out of the car through a building; my heels clattered over a tiled floor - a sharp, unmuffled echo; it sounded as if we were in a cellar or an industrial building. Then they pressed me into a chair, tied my hands and feet to the armrests and the chair legs, and withdrew

Alone in the darkness I heard people moving, chair legs creaking, fabric rustling, someone clearing his throat now and then. The room smelled of cheap cologne and stale smoke. No one spoke. Then footsteps approached, a chair scraped noisily backward, and someone sat down heavily. Two switches clicked. "Come on, let's welcome our guest!" a voice said.

The hood was pulled from my head. A harsh light blinded me. I blinked, trying to adjust, but could barely see. Two lamps stood between my chair and a long table, shining straight into my face and leaving the people beyond them as little more than silhouettes. I made out what looked like five men in broad-brimmed hats. The sounds around me told me someone was standing behind my chair; I smelled his aftershave and felt his breath. I stayed silent, waiting for my captors to make the first move.

"I'm Little Bonaparte," said the man in the middle, his voice deep. "And these"--he spread his arms--"are the Friends of Italian Opera." He paused dramatically. "To my left, the Troubadour and Radamès." The two men nodded. "And to my right, Don Carlo and the quiet Stiffelio." The other two acknowledged me. "We've gathered here to hear you sing, my little dove."

I tugged at the restraints holding me to the chair. "What do you want from me? What is this about?" I shouted. "I have no idea what you want."

Bonaparte laughed mockingly. "Of course you don't know what this is about. And you've no idea what this is, either." He gestured, and the man behind me held a parcel in front of my face. My eyes widened. It was the mysterious package from our hallway.

"I don't know what it is," I insisted. "It arrived today."

"Do you hear that, my dear friends?" Bonaparte said. "It arrived today." Laughter rose from the group. "Of course the little doll doesn't know what's in the package." More laughter. He rested his arms on the table, and his voice turned sharp. "You can fool someone else. Toothpick Charlie knew exactly why he sent it to you."

"Toothpick Charlie? I don't know anyone by that name. Ask him what the package is about."

"I'm supposed to ask Charlie?" he shouted. Another roar of laughter followed. He waited for it to subside. "You see, sweetheart, Charlie got in my way one time too many. Now he doesn't talk to anyone. Ever again. And his suit has a whole lot of new holes in it. A shame--it was practically new." He paused theatrically. "You have to be careful. Something like that can happen to anyone. Even you."

I felt both hot and cold. No matter how hard I struggled, the restraints held me mercilessly. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Let me go before the police find out about this."

"The police!" he cried. "Are we supposed to be afraid of them?" The group laughed again. "Listen, doll," he continued gently, "no one here wants to hurt you. We can all remain friends if you help us a little. But if you're stubborn, we'll have no choice. If it has to happen, it has to happen. This is your last chance." He gestured, and the thug behind me reached into the parcel, took out a small vial, and held it before my eyes. "This is only half of the thing. It's no use to me on its own. Tell me where the other half of the secret formula, X34 minus 5R1 plus 6-X36, is, and we'll part peacefully. No one needs to get hurt." His voice hardened. "Tell me where Toothpick Charlie hid it."

"I don't know any secret formula. I don't know any Charlie. Let me go!" Whatever I did, the restraints held. A rough hand grabbed me from behind. I tossed my head from side to side, but could not break free.

"Very well, little one. If we can't settle this amicably, we'll have to try something else." Bonaparte stood, walked around the table, and stopped directly in front of me. He wore a mask and smelled of stale cigars and back rooms. He grabbed one of my breasts and squeezed it. "You're a pretty thing, doll. Here's an idea: let's all do something we'll enjoy." He turned his head. "Bring in the floozies. We need them!"

A door opened, and a line of masked women entered the room. Rough hands released my restraints and dragged me out of the chair. One man turned me so my bare back faced the table. "Well, what have we here?" he said. "Look at that tattoo, boss. She isn't an ordinary girl--she's a slave!"

"Oh," Little Bonaparte said in a slick voice. "That's very interesting. A slave, is she? Then we'll have to be rougher to get her in the right frame of mind." The others murmured their agreement. "Get her ready!"

They stripped me and fastened cuffs around my arms and legs. I fought with all my strength, but they showed no mercy. They turned me around, and I saw a punishment trestle.

Helplessly I lay on my stomach on the trestle, pussy and ass accessible to everyone. A hand patted my buttocks, then I felt a finger penetrate my asshole, testing how well I was stretched. Then the finger entered my pussy and felt how wet I was. I heard approving murmurs behind me.

"Let's warm her up first," Bonaparte said. "Show the slave what's coming. She'll enjoy it."

I screamed when the whip struck my ass. There were maybe ten strokes, not really many, but the skin burned. The arousal I always felt after a chastisement spread through me and I felt my pussy grow wet. Very good.

Behind me I heard the sound of a zipper. With force a cock penetrated me. I expelled the air in shock and at the same time felt my slave instincts kick in: I massaged the shaft with the muscles of my pussy to increase my rider's pleasure. He thrust into me faster and faster. The scoundrels cheered their comrade on while he took me. I felt my arousal growing, but before I could come I felt him shoot into me. He stepped back, slapped my ass, and called, "Hey, slut, do your duty!" I heard him high-five his accomplices and boast about how well he had fucked me.

Something moved behind me, then I felt a tender tongue on my pussy. One of the floozies, presumably. She licked me clean, prepared me for the next use. She played with the tip of her tongue on my clit, longer and more skillfully than would have been necessary for cleaning. Whoever was licking me was trying to give me pleasure. I enjoyed the tender touch, allowed my arousal to grow again until it overwhelmed me. I finally came with a blissful moan.

When the next crooks took me, I let my lust run free, enjoyed the fuck, screamed and came when I felt like it. The Little Bonaparte mounted me last. His buddies cheered him on, shouted his name while he penetrated me. I milked him with my pussy as best I could and came especially intensely. He pulled his cock out of me and they celebrated him for his masculinity; I heard him zip up again. Quiet returned behind me.

"Well, did you enjoy that?" Gamaschen asked smugly from behind me. "Are you ready to talk now?"

"I still don't know anything. And if I did know something, I definitely wouldn't tell you!" I turned my head back as far as the bonds allowed: "I'm waiting to finally have a really hard cock inside me. How do you limp-dicks plan to satisfy a woman?"

There was stunned silence. I heard excited whispers as the thugs conferred. "We'll show you who's in charge here," Bonaparte growled, plainly furious. "You'll regret your insolence. You two," he waved to a pair of floozies, "take the slave and clean her up. I want her ready when I deal with her again. Everyone else, take a break in the next room." Chairs scraped back as the men got up and left.

Two masked women came for me. "Tell them everything they want to know," one hissed as they dragged me by my lead into an adjoining room. "It's your only chance!" "She's right," said the other. "Stop resisting. There are too many of them." I gave them a grim smile as they washed me and removed the dried semen from my skin. I was given food and water and allowed a short rest. Then someone knocked at the door. "Remember my advice," the first woman said. "Tell them everything!" I turned toward her. "The devil I will!" Then I walked back into the large room with my head held high.

Tied on the trestle again I received another round of whipping. "If you think you can get away with this act, you're mistaken!" Gamaschen's voice told me how angry he was. Good. "Now we'll show you what we can do." His voice rose to a crescendo. "You'll curse the moment you decided to defy us!"

They had restrained me but had not gagged me. I soon understood why. One of the scoundrels positioned himself in front of me and forced his cock into my mouth while another busied himself behind me. I was already licking the first one's shaft when I felt a cool prickling starting at my asshole--lube. Two cocks at once were supposed to break me. When the shaft penetrated my ass I let my lust run free, licking the cock in my mouth even more passionately. I matched the two rhythms: the way my ass was thrust into from behind, I licked and sucked in front. It felt incredibly pleasurable. I came already when neither of them was even halfway to the goal. When the one in front pulled his cock out of my mouth I mockingly asked him whether that was all, and heard him growl in disappointment. The next ones also fucked me in pairs and I loved it. As in the first round I now also had the feeling that Stiffelio was less rough and genuinely tried to arouse me. Strange.

When that round was over, they dragged me back into the adjoining room. Semen flowed out of my pussy and ass; they had granted me no cleanings. That was what I got for my mockery, but I could live with it. Nevertheless the last hours had left their mark. While the sluts cleaned me I felt how the many orgasms had exhausted me. But I was firmly determined to hold out.

They dragged me back into the main room and threw me onto a bed placed in the middle of it. The five thugs stood in a semicircle around me, naked except for their hats and masks. The floozies knelt in front of them, and tried to get the cocks into shape again. The men growled darkly and looked determined; around me I heard sucking and slurping. Curiously I looked around. Don Carlos was the first who was ready to mount me again. He climbed onto the bed, grabbed my hips, and turned me over. He lifted my ass so that it was high in the air and my face was pressed into the pillow. Lustfully I moaned; one of my favorite positions. He labored behind me, but I already felt that his cock was no longer as hard as in the first round. He gave it his all, but I had already come screaming long before he finally shot into me. One after the other from the group now took me, turned or lifted me into a position of his choice, and fucked me as well as he still could. It was wonderful; I enjoyed every single round, screaming with lust, and reliably came long before the crook finally shot his load into me. No matter how hard the sluts tried, the crooks and their cocks reached their limits; the members hung limp and lifeless no matter how severely they whipped the sluts.

"Damn it!" Little Bonaparte finally roared, stamping his foot. "We're going to confer!"

The women dragged me back into the adjoining room, pulled the hood over my head, and left. I heard angry voices and shouting from the large room while I lay bound on the floor, thinking over everything that had happened. If only I could free my hands.

Suddenly, a door slammed. There were shrill screams, probably from the floozies, followed by gunshots. One, two, three, four, five--then silence. I sat up, trying to hear what was happening. Hurried footsteps; chairs or tables being knocked over. At last someone rattled the door. There was a pause, and the footsteps moved away. Then they returned. A key turned, the door swung open, and someone came in. I held my breath. Then the world grew bright again as the hood was pulled from my face.

My Master stood before me, looking worried. In his gloved hand he held a smoking revolver. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you?" I glanced over his shoulder and saw pools of blood and motionless bodies in the other room. Then I looked back at him and threw my arms around his shoulders. "My rescuer!" I cried. "I'm all right. I'm so glad you're here!"

He held me close, then shut the door with his free hand, hiding the terrible scene in the other room from my sight.

I stepped back, remembered my duty, sank to my knees, and opened my mouth in the customary greeting of a slave to her owner. He stroked my hair approvingly, then opened his trousers. With devotion I spoiled his beloved member, licked and sucked on it until my owner moaned and shot into me. He pulled me up; I opened my mouth and showed him his delicious seed, then he nodded contentedly and I swallowed it down.

After he freed my restraints, I embraced him. "How did you find me?" I asked.

"There's an AirTag in your slave collar," he said with a grin. "That made it easy. I couldn't very well lose my most valuable possession on the very first day."

I looked at him admiringly. "And are they all gone?"

"Yes. They're no longer a danger to you. The secret formula--X34 minus 5R1 plus 6-X36--is safe. Come on. Let's get out of here before the police arrive and start asking questions." He went back into the large room and returned with my dress and shoes. I got dressed, offered him my neck, and he fastened a lead to my slave collar. He led me to another door. We climbed a staircase, opened another door, and found ourselves in the garden of a detached house, beneath an extended awning. The summer sun shone brightly, and after the shadowy basement the warmth felt pleasant. High tables had been set out, and I saw a buffet and a cooler.

When the patio doors burst open and our friends spilled outside, I turned and gave him a long kiss. In their little 1920s dresses and rumpled gangster suits, stained with red ink, they looked heartbreakingly ridiculous. My girlfriends rushed over, hugged me, and congratulated me. Their Masters followed, looking exhausted and battered.

"You've finished me off!" Björn said, kissing my cheek. I grinned. "Me too!" Lennard groaned, offering his congratulations. "You're a force of nature!" But Sonja pushed him aside. "You've wrecked my husband, chica. He won't be able to take me for days, you beast! Come on, show me your mark again." I turned so she could see my shoulder blade. "Very nice!" she declared, wagging a finger at my Master. "He certainly took his time getting that done! So, was it worth it?" I turned to look at my hero, who was grinning contentedly as our friends congratulated him.

"Yes," I said. "Every single second!" And I clinked my glass against hers.