Christmas was a lavish affair. Abi was allowed to dress a large tree in the room in which they had dined. And to her Chamber were brought all manner of decorations and baubles and beads, together with a small ornate tree in the shape of a heart. On the day itself she was woken early by the sound of bells, and discovered Santa had filled a stocking with all kinds of childlike sweets and surprises left at the foot of her bed. Pleasant hours were filled with the sharing of gifts, listening to music, and eating a feast fit for royalty. Her wardrobe and drawers were stocked with matching underwear and dresses, as well as a strange array of fetish wear mostly in black and silver, with the most beautiful basque she had ever seen, a zip riding the front. She yearned to try it, to put it on, and in doing so felt radiantly different, her sexuality flooding through her whole being, leaving her breathless with desire and a fire burning deep in her belly, spreading through her pussy, making it wet.
And yet, in amongst all the merrymaking, was the shadow of an even greater occasion, The Calling Ritual, official ceremony and acceptance of Abi to her calling as slave.
No one talked about it, or even answered questions which preyed on her mind. But then, on the eve of a new year, Shadow and Dream Catcher came to her Chamber.
‘It is time,’ began Dream Catcher, ‘to prepare for the end of one journey and the beginning of another. Over the next few weeks there will be much to do, and you will be assigned tasks to complete as befits your calling. April was the month in which you gave yourself to us, and it will be April one year on, a time of new growth, new beginnings, when we will complete this contract between us. Are you ready to fully commit?’
Abi stood naked, legs apart, hands behind her back, right over left, as she had been taught. ‘Yes, Master, I am ready. But...’ She hesitated, knowing it was not usual to question her Master. ‘May I ask something?’
Dream Catcher exchanged a look with Shadow, knowing what her question would be, but wanting her to ask it herself. ‘Yes, you may ask.’
‘Am I to serve two Masters, you and Shadow?’
It had come to her a while ago. Shadow was more than a trainer and companion. He worked with Dream Catcher. He appeared his equal, with his equally commanding presence and air of authority, demanding respect and absolute obedience from her. In her eyes, he had become a Master too.
‘You have observed well. Yes, there will be two. You will be our slave. And yet the relationship is not quite as clear cut as you suspect. There are things you are not aware of and do not know, and it is not necessary that you do know everything.’
Abi accepted the words, perhaps not needing to understand their full meaning, and smiled across at Shadow to show there was no ill will meant by her question. ‘I’m glad this is the way. Thank you. Thank you for giving me... life.’
She was too taken up with her own thoughts and feelings to hear the undercurrent in his words. An ocean of tears was ready to flood her eyes, and a joy, a vibrant warmth was already filling her body in the certain knowledge she was to live the dream she had craved after for so long.
‘You mean so much to me; both of you. This past year has been the best of my whole life. I feel so liberated, so free, so protected, so loved... and yet I am controlled. I don’t fully understand all the implications, but then I don’t need to. I simply welcome the experience and want to carry it on.’
They embraced her then, each in turn. And it was Shadow who broke the silence. ‘You will become a fully fledged slave. But that will take nothing away from the fact that you are also our friend, our lover, our soul mate. Together we become the One, the Whole. And it is together we will agree final arrangements and prepare for a ceremony in celebration of all that has been, and what will be for the future.’
Dream Catcher withdrew a sheaf of papers from a case. ‘Let us begin. Sit with us. We will explain.’ He waited while she sat at the table, before spreading papers before him.
‘The way a Master and slave commit to one another is special and unique to them, to commemorate the very special relationship between them. But there can be three main elements to the commitment. A Contract. A Marking. A Collaring Ceremony, otherwise known as a Calling Ritual. The collaring of a slave by her Master is a serious affair. It’s like a wedding, a marriage between them, with vows as befits their relationship decided beforehand. The basics should be included - devotion, honesty, trustworthiness, love, and the promise to remain faithful and not participate in any play with another without his, or in this case our, express permission. The slave’s body, mind and soul become those of her Master, and in return the Master - or in this case, Masters - will promise in turn to love and protect and care for that body, mind and soul, until death do us part. In which case there are provisions to turn the slave over to a benefactor, as in a will. The vows should reflect the depth of their relationship and the unique love that is between a submissive slave and Master.
‘The Collaring Ceremony is more meaningful than marriage. It is a commitment between them, bound by a contract. And more, for the slave it is a calling. For she is giving herself - everything she is, everything she has - in service to her Master.
‘You should also know this; a slave cannot get out of this ‘marriage’ as easily as any ordinary couple get divorced. A slave is collared and marked as a sign that she belongs to him, that he alone is responsible for her. The marking will be such that it will show her as a true slave, and will be unique to the Master who takes her. He will also give her a slave name by which she will be known from that point on. Mind you, there are provisions made, in the event of problems, for annulment of the collaring, but this has to be very serious indeed.’
Dream Catcher leant forward, catching Abi’s face in his hands. His touch was gentle, as he brought her face to his. ‘Do you hear and understand these things which have been explained to you?’
She nodded, still digesting the information.
‘Are you certain this is what you want? It is not too late at this point to simply walk away. I have continued to pay for the upkeep of your home and it is there for you if you should wish to return. But you need to say now, for once this ceremony has taken place...’
She was already nodding, aware that his touch was creating a tremble of emotion, a wetness in her groin.
‘Then let it be so.’
He withdrew his hands and turned to Shadow, waiting for him to speak.
‘The ceremony itself requires preparation and there will be much to do before the event takes place. You will have to work hard, for there will be much to learn before the day. There will be tasks to complete, and I will instruct you in the way you behave and move. A collaring is not something to be entered into lightly. It is a very serious affair.’
They watched Abi’s jaw open as she wondered exactly what the ceremony entailed and the part she would play. Then suddenly they both smiled, knowingly.
‘It will be a wonderful day for all of us. And we promise a celebration with plenty of fun thrown in. You will enjoy it as an equal participant of this marriage between us.’
There was a pause which stretched into long moments.
‘First, however...’ Shadow watched with interest the expressions flit across the sub’s face. ‘First, however, we are going on a trip, when you can visit your family while Sir Richard and I buy necessary items and provisions. It is on our return that preparations will begin in earnest.’
‘Sir Richard?’
‘Yes, that is me,’ said Dream Catcher. ‘I own this island. But you will address me only as Master.’
He took her hand and touched it gently to his lips, sending an electric shiver of delight tingling down her spine. ‘We will be happy, Little One, have no fear. You bring to this house and island the wonder and innocence of a child, the beauty of a lover, the open heart of a soul mate, and a willingness to serve and to please.’
It was a few days on when she was instructed to pack for their trip to the mainland. She was nervous, excited, suddenly wanting to see her family again, but wondering what to say after so long. There were no words to explain. It would be strange going places with people, having to remain clothed.
Abi prepared inwardly for the many questions she knew would be asked, and as she fingered her collar, she tried to work out answers and what she could possibly say.
Shadow and Sir Richard collected her at dawn the following morning, allowing her unrestricted movement and a chance finally to see the way ahead. She marvelled at the smoothness of Free Spirit, and as she boarded the craft felt suddenly so alive, reenergised, reborn, she threw her arms wide, embracing the sea air as they crossed to the mainland. Without a blindfold she saw for the first time the majestic landscape of Scottish mountains rearing up on either side, great beasts standing tall and proud. She watched the tilt of seagulls’ wings and knew what it felt to feel free, to experience and explore, pushing boundaries, venturing beyond the horizon.
Her family was pleased to see her, eager for her to expound on her experiences, or at least on what little she told them. They wondered at her appearance. She had a new confident way about her. Her new way of life obviously suited her well. She answered questions as best she could, describing the island if not her life there. She was staying for a week, after which Master and Shadow would return for her and their journey back to Arcana.
In their absence they issued strict instructions about diet, which she tried to obey. But temptation was everywhere. Without their constant attention she nibbled biscuits and chocolate regardless. There was so much to see and do, so much of the world she had to catch up on. Things had changed and moved on. News of the world outside crashed in on her, and with it worry and stress of what the future might bring.
She tied up loose ends with her own home, allowing those renting it a contract for another year. But more and more she found she was unable to settle, clock-watching, lacking concentration, unable to focus. She missed the simple day-to-day existence of the island. Something was missing. Nights were particularly hard when the sense of being alone was acute, and she felt isolated, insecure, vulnerable, alone; almost overwhelmed by an acute sense of abandonment and loss without Dream Catcher and Shadow.
Finally came the day. She waited eagerly at the door, knowing they would come for her, back to the controlling relationship where she knew she belonged. Oh how she yearned for the protection, specialness and love she had in their care. She watched the car pull up the driveway, and bidding her parents farewell, climbed into the back beside Sir Richard, unable to hold herself from hugging him, gripping his hand tight.
The car ate up the miles as she chattered on about all she had seen and heard, and she was so engrossed in her stories that it was with surprise she realised they had turned off the main road and were following the line of trees which led to Hartington Hall.
She was confused, upset even, aching to reach the cocoon of Arcana. Why hadn’t they told her and included her in their plans?
‘You will spend the rest of the day here, being pampered, making you special for what is to come. This interlude is important. Use it well. We will leave you now and come back this evening.’
‘But, this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be!’
A finger touched her lips. Master and Shadow got out of the car with her and kissed her on both cheeks. They left her then, on the steps of the Hall. She felt like a child on her first day at school, decidedly wistful, watching their awful departure.
‘Hello, Abi. I said we’d meet again.’
She turned to find Alex at her side, and remembered how good he had been for her. ‘Oh, Alex, it’s good to see you. Are we doing the same as before?’
She greeted him like an old friend, and he took her hand as they went to the familiar room to change from her clothes into a robe.
‘Come through when you’re ready. A cuppa will be waiting for you.’
Abi was glad. It was as if the dream was starting all over and she welcomed the chance of experiencing it again, knowing what might come, aware she knew so much more and could carry herself with a confidence that was as new as the experience of being a slave. She wondered just how much Alex understood about her.
Later his hands moulded her shoulders, smoothing down her spine, sending ripples of pleasure permeating to her toes. Her groin was already wet. She turned to look him directly in the eyes, and caught him admiring the curves of her figure and the sensuous way in which her body now moved.
‘You’ve changed, Little One. Now you are supple, much more at ease with yourself and those around you. You can more easily relax. And yet at the same time, I feel you have an inner strength you never had before.’
‘So much has happened since I was last here. It’s been like a dream...’
‘Shhh, Little One. Shhh.’
This time he plucked her eyebrows, manicured her nails, and then with her feet paid special attention to creaming and softening, before trimming her toenails. She felt groomed, newly born, pure, whole, sensuous; a true woman in every way. And yet within, still a child, retaining innocence and an eagerness to learn. The true sign of a submissive.
A hairdresser cut and styled her hair, softly onto her face rather than swept back. It gave her an elfin look, especially with her eyes dancing and sparkling as if they had seen things she could not tell. She watched her face in the mirror, knowing it betrayed the secret feelings of a lover. Her eyes shone and the shape of her lips twitched upwards as she remembered things told to her before she left the island, and the way it would be.
Finally she stood at the door, reaching towards the sun setting in the sky, wondering what the morrow might bring. The car drew up alongside, and apart from a stopover meal they continued driving, in silence, until almost daybreak when Free Spirit carried them back to their island retreat and the start of a new and very different life.
The sun rose majestic and glorious from the ashes of the night, fanning its tail across the horizon like some great bird embracing a new dawn. The orange-yellow spectre lit up the heavens, touching everything in its path with the magic and splendour of a new and wonderful day.
Abi watched from her window, in a new wrap given to her by her parents, following the rivulets of colour streaking the morning sky. She smiled. It was going to be a good day. The best! From deep down within her heart, she knew she was finally Home.
Her arms opened wide, caught in the moment and embracing the magic that soon would be hers. She closed her eyes, hugging close the scene set before her. Then, throwing the catch on the windows, she drew a sharp intake of breath at the snap of cold air that nipped her cheeks, giving her a rich glow, as if she too had been touched by the dawn.
As she pulled the wrap close around her she turned to find she wasn’t alone. Shadow stood silent and still.
‘Shadow, how I’ve missed all this, and you.’ Excited, she drew close to him, and then impishly pulled away, seeking instead the trolley he brought laden with food.
‘You left me a whole day and night,’ she chided. ‘I was lonely, and I’m so hungry. Shall I butter you some toast?’
Shadow held the teapot and sat opposite her at the table, letting the steaming liquid fill her cup. He accepted the toast and watched the plate empty before her.
‘Shadow, I’ve so much to tell you, to share. So much I’ve seen and learned while I’ve been away.’ She scarcely noticed his silence, much less the deviant gleam in his eye as she chattered on like a child, filled with the newness and wonder of life.
She followed him to the gym, and ‘ouched’ and ‘ooohed’ her way through her paces, pouting as he asked more and more from her, pushing her to her limit and beyond.
‘My sister has a new boyfriend...’ she gasped between press-ups. ‘And dad’s changed the house around again. And did you catch on the news the bit about... oh no, Shadow, do I have to?’
At last she was done, and while a hot shower sent pinpricks of pleasure across her body, she too fell silent as Shadow held her head down and then back, washing her thoroughly and completely, before pulling out the couch on which to lie. This time, however, he placed leather like a bridge arcing from one side to the other, clipping it in place.
‘Shadow, what is it?’ she asked.
In silence he helped her climb up on her back, placing her over the arc in the centre. Her head fell back. Her legs parted. Deftly he secured them in the brackets on either side, and because of the arc he now had more access to her groin.
Aware of her vulnerability she crossed her arms over her breasts, but he pulled her hands apart and clamped them above her head and to the sides. He stood silent and still, watching her struggles slowly cease. Then, moving close, he pressed a finger to her lips, looking deep into her eyes.
‘You will be silent now.’
In his eyes she caught a glimpse of the depth of feeling he felt for her, but something else too; a look, sad and distant, as if she had somehow let him down. There was also a new sternness to his words, which demanded they be obeyed.
She watched his face as fingers felt her scalp, moving down to her eyes, which he held open while using a pencil torch. Fingers felt down the line of her jaw, opening her mouth as he examined her teeth. He reached up and flicked the switch of a powerful lamp. There was a whirring noise, and he held her upper lip while an instrument whitened and polished her teeth. She felt disorientated, her head hanging back too far because of the arc. She closed her eyes, hoping to cut off the sickening dizzy sensation she felt inside.
A different noise started as the humming instrument of before was brought down to encourage her nipples into hardness, and then they were clamped. Her body stretched out across the bridge of the arc, and fingers firmly manipulated stomach muscles, sending shivers of delight into her groin. Her pussy was wet, and he spent time examining its inner secrets, holding back the labia and inserting three fingers, testing how far they reached. Then moving down they prized apart her cheeks to inspect her anus while Abi, unable to keep still, squirmed to the intense feelings of being powerless, and deeply aroused.
Released from her fetters, Shadow left her to struggle unaided to turn onto her front, stretched along the arc, leaving her head to hang low. He manipulated her neck muscles, slowly moving down each vertebra in turn, confirming before moving on. As he reached her bottom a finger slid into her anus. She gasped, a shudder lifting her body, filling it with a delicious feeling of warmth and pleasure. Juices flooded the finger, now joined by another, and for a moment, caught on a climactic edge, she felt the slow spread of deeply aroused emotion churning her stomach. Her innermost being rose up to greet it when the fingers withdrew suddenly, and a well-aimed series of smacks landed squarely on each cheek.
She was hurt, disappointed, confused. Raising her head she caught a look on his face of which she had no understanding. Only when she was standing did she search his face again for the look that had been, wondering at the intensity and what it might mean. But instead of the explanation she hoped for he pushed her legs apart and walked around her three times, then placed himself in front of her, looking her straight in the eye.
‘We will go now for a meeting with Sir Richard. He is waiting.’ He took hold of her chin and, tilting it, kissed her intensely. ‘Come.’
She followed him down the corridor, past the gym at the end, and on down the stairs to where the air felt warm and close. The room they entered through the archway at the bottom was decorated in rich golden satin. Drapes hung from ceiling to floor, and between the drapes were stout black beams, and it was to these beams that her eyes were drawn, trying to take in the leather harnesses, bindings and straps that hung there. The room was large, extending into antechambers divided off by more satin curtains. On either side were couches of black leather, with all manner of straps attached to them. And in the centre of the room were two winged chairs divided by a black polished table, a plush pouf and a mat.
‘Welcome to the Dungeon.’ Dream Catcher stood by one of the chairs. As he spoke his arms extended towards her. ‘Today you will see and experience everything.’
With a flourish he signalled to Shadow, who pulled apart the surrounding curtains to reveal walls of mirrors. It was strange standing there with other selves moving as she did, with the same mannerisms, the same look of confusion on their face.
In an anteroom Shadow prepared mugs of steaming tea, which he carried to place on a tray on the table. It was as if she’d stepped into the shoes of Alice in Wonderland; a fantasy wrapped in a surreal world.
‘You will kneel on the mat, back on your heels, and wait for tea to be given to you.’
She accepted the words as a reprimand, already in the act of reaching for a mug and settling herself on the stool. She stopped, feeling for a comfortable position on the floor. It was Dream Catcher who finally handed her a mug of tea before sitting, and Shadow waited before joining him in the adjacent chair.
‘Do you still wish to serve us as a slave?’
She was surprised at the question, believing it already answered. ‘Why, yes, I do. Yes...’ How else would she answer? They smiled back at the child she had become.
‘To serve a Master is a Calling. It’s not for everyone. You must be very sure before accepting, as we must be sure of you.’ Dream Catcher raised a finger as a warning against interruption as she opened her mouth to reply.
‘Up until the point of the Calling Ritual you are free to say at any point that you no longer wish to become a slave. You can walk back into the life you had. Equally, up until the ceremony we have been free to let you know you are not The One we seek. As has been explained before the ceremony is a serious occasion, when we each commit to the other through a series of vows and rituals. That commitment is absolute and is not easily broken on any side. Do you understand?’
Abi nodded, her head teaming with unspoken thoughts.
‘You have fulfilled our dream, and we are happy to have you share our life, to become one with us. To that end we have planned the ceremony to take place on the first day of Spring, and in the weeks leading up to it there are things you must learn, tasks you must undertake for this to be possible.’
They watched the smile creep across her face, pleased in the joy shining from her eyes, knowing she was ready for the next part of the journey to fulfil her destiny.
‘But listen carefully and take note. This is a conditioned life. Obedience and loyalty must be at all times, whether you are here or away. If it is not, then you will be punished, and punishment, when it comes, will be because you deserve it. We will always tell you the reason for it, answer questions you may have, and when it is done it is finished and specialness will follow. Just as an adult continues to love an errant child, punishing for the deed but still loving the child, so it is that punishment takes nothing away from our guiding love for you. It is a necessary part of the learning, the obedience, the respect, and...’ Dream Catcher paused a moment, ‘...you will find there can also be pleasure in the pain. Have you not already found this to be the case?’
Abi let out a tiny gasp, but was careful to allow her Master to continue.
‘While you were away it was too easy to go the way of others, to follow those around you. To become the way you were, and you failed your Calling in a number of ways. You did not keep to the strict diet set by Shadow. You did not continue the regime that has become a necessary part of your training. You have forgotten, it seems, how to greet your Masters, and in conducting yourself as a slave. You have played with yourself at night. You have clothed yourself, and since your return, it seems your nakedness brings shame. You are therefore going to be punished, here and now.’
His final words were emphasised more in the body language which accompanied them than the words. She shivered in anticipation. She had finished her tea, and as Dream Catcher and Shadow stood she prepared herself as best she could, knowing something would follow that wasn’t about to go in her favour. They each took an arm and led her to a point between two beams, manacling both wrists to a chain. Her legs were spread wide, each foot strapped firmly to the floor. She looked towards the mirror opposite and saw herself as a big white cross emphasised by the darkness of the beams, stretched and secure, waiting for the punishment to begin.
‘You have not yet felt the true keenness of the whip, the cut of the crop. Feel the pain. Know the experience. Remember why.’
She focused on Shadow, who moved to sit in one of the winged chairs directly in her line of vision, as if to see more clearly the affect on her. She had expected him to do the dastardly deed, and for Dream Catcher to be there for her with soothing hands and words, and in her confusion she completely failed to see Dream Catcher slip behind her, so the first crack of the whip caught her completely unawares as it slashed around her bottom. The smallest cry escaped her lips before she could prevent it, bringing with it tears and a stinging burn to both buttocks. The break between the first and second blow only made the pain keener. As it came a gasp and scream rose in her throat, tears flowing freely.
‘Please, please not again,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’
She was sure saying sorry would work. Sorry always made everything better... didn’t it? Kiss and make up, just as she’d always done as a child? But her words fell on deaf ears. Her reflection awaited the next bite of the crop to burn again her tender flesh.
A third and fourth slash followed mercilessly. Her screams were loud, uncaring. She no longer held back, accepting it would only end when he had finished with her. She was breaking every taboo, letting go with her emotions as they rode her, dragging from her all the pain and frustration and shame built up through the years. And yet at the same time, somewhere deep within, she touched on a kind of pleasure, and a pride in surviving the ultimate test of submission. She could end this at any time by shouting ‘stop’, and walking away, back into the life that was. She had no doubt at all in her mind they would release her and let her go.
Home.
But then, this was Home. Here she was allowed to be the person she really was instead of having to pretend, to wear a mask, to fit into someone else’s mould. Always she had been made to bear her submissive nature with shame, while others tried to change her, telling her she needed to be strong, independent, decisive, sure, when she was none of these things... not really. Always her submission had been seen as a weakness, not a strength. She was by nature a pleaser, a giver, strong for others but not herself, passionate and compassionate, with an ability to feel intensely, and without the ability to say no, needing someone else to take control.
It was only here she could develop her submissive nature, and through it know the strength to fly free. They would give her wings and teach her to fly. They were her companions, her soulmates, her lovers, her Masters. And she would obey, because of everything they shared together. Now she desperately yearned to live as One, and together, embrace the Dream. The change taking place in her was obvious, as was her complete submission to them. It was time. The Ceremony of Commitment needed to take place.
Six strokes of the crop lashed her bottom, then Abi held her head high as, with tears flowing freely down her face and her buttocks smarting, the manacles were removed.
‘Now, stand facing the wall, on tiptoes. Closer, so the tip of your nose touches it. And don’t move.’
She’d expected the punishment to be over, the sixth strike of the crop to be the last. She had learned her lesson, after all, but she followed the instruction for fear of making her situation worse.
‘Hands behind your back.’
She obeyed immediately and felt them being bound.
‘This button is being placed here, between your nose and the wall. You will keep on tiptoe, and you will hold it there until you are told otherwise.’
Her breasts pushed against the wall in an effort to maintain her balance. Her head moved forward to support the small button and ensure it didn’t drop. It was easy at first, but as they left her, not knowing when they would return, her ankles and calves started to ache incessantly.
She began to panic a little. Surely they would come soon. They would know, wouldn’t they, that she couldn’t stay there for long. But the button was slipping, and still they didn’t come. Her face grazed the wall as she struggled to maintain balance and keep the stupid little button there.
She lost track of time, increasingly bored with the exercise. Wanting to simply let go, to ease her aching legs, to walk, to sit, to know once again what it was to be independent of the damn wall and the button so dependent on her. But she didn’t dare for one moment lose concentration or let the button drop. And the more she stood there, stretching, legs numb, she realised this was an exercise in obedience, in discipline, a further testing for the slave that was to be.
She remembered what she’d read about having the right mindset of a slave, focusing on respect, obedience, rituals, withdrawing from all else. That was why here, at Arcana, there were no outside influences to distract her from her Calling and her servitude as slave.
When finally they came, taking the button, Abi fell to a kneeling position at their feet, parting her legs wide, stretching her arms, touching her head to the floor in complete submission to them.
For long moments there was silence. She wondered fleetingly if she had done wrong in not waiting to be told. But then hands held her there, while fingers gently rubbed soothing cream into her throbbing buttocks. Then they helped her rise, holding and comforting her as she cried in their arms.
They took her back to her Chamber and lay with her, caressing her into a state of arousal. Dream Catcher lay naked beside her, and coaxed her to take hold of his penis, showing her how to fondle it, pulling back the foreskin and taking it right to the back of her mouth.
As she knelt Shadow knelt, scratching down her back, holding her head in position over the rigid cock. He inserted a finger in her anus, matching the rhythm she was making with her lips.
She was aware that Dream Catcher was in control. He was instructing Shadow. Shadow was instructing her. There was a chain of command. It was something to remember, and to think on.
After a time they lay her gently on her back amongst soft cushions, and with Shadow kneeling over her face she took his penis in her mouth and continued the sucking rhythm of before, while he manipulated and massaged her breasts, pinching her nipples, causing an unbearable pleasure to build in her groin.
Seeing her movements heightened, her hips rising and falling, her body swaying as she was taken to the edge, Dream Catcher positioned himself between her feet, bending and parting her legs, positioning his cock at the entrance already seeping with juices. He awaited his moment, and then, parting her labia, pulled her onto him until his erection was totally embedded.
Her belly rose to greet him, and together, all three came in unison, Abi, Dream Catcher and Shadow, caught in the throws of an erotic wave carrying them towards a faraway shore, beyond rational explanation or reason, a place where their spirits fused to embrace the missing parts of their selves; parts they had waited a lifetime to discover.
This was their Destiny. To become one with the other, each a part and yet separate. Each united in the common goal. And in that orgasmic moment all three knew that one could not live without the other. They were part of the same journey.
One Whole.
One Love.
One.
It was a strange feeling, wanting to live the life of a slave. To be owned by a Master. To be open and available to him at all times. To know he is aware of everything about you, every nuance of your body, every thought, every feeling, every emotion, every truth. To want to give yourself and to please. To be willingly conditioned and controlled.
Abi dwelt on these thoughts swirling about her head, and decided that true submission must be born into a person’s character. Life experiences can mould and shape someone, can change and develop in a negative or a positive way. But to want to submit, to make that commitment and to be a slave takes a certain kind of person, and a very special relationship between slave/sub and Master to make that work.
To feel aroused by the idea of smacking, whippings, beatings, while at the same time being afraid, is a contradiction in itself. And yet it is the way it must be for the slave who is truly serious about her vocation. And all the time, within this controlling relationship, Abi felt empowered with a tremendous sense of liberation and freedom she had never experienced before.
With this in mind she knelt before her Masters to discuss her submission and preparations for her commitment to them.
‘Ownership is about belonging. And for that belonging to be total and complete means testing who you are, how you feel, and what you are capable of, building up that trust to such a degree that you are able to place your whole self in our hands, knowing you are safe, protected, loved. We will know how hard to push and what you are capable of. We will know what is best for you. You must trust us to know. We will never cross the line and create an unsafe environment. For this is your Home every bit as much as it is ours. And you need to feel that here you are accepted, that you are loved just the way you are.’
Dream Catcher emphasised these final words to make his point clear.
‘Here you can be as open and as creative as you like. You are an equal and a valued part of this power exchange and the relationship we share. We recognise that there are submissives who have an overwhelming need to be possessed by a Dominant. And that your submissive nature - gentle, vulnerable, sensitive, giving, open as it is - makes you such a person. What you have is a gift. Given the right environment it means you can be coaxed from behind the protective walls built during your lifetime out of a need to protect yourself and to survive the pain of abuse. For it is these very walls that became the prison from which you crave release. And within our protective love, care and control, in exposing all of your true self to your Masters, you can be free, secure in the knowledge that no harm will ever come to you again.
‘For this to be possible it has been necessary to achieve a deep understanding of your emotions. Now more will be asked of you, including an emotional history and your view of what you feel is happening in the relationship we share. Armed with this information we will then be able to ensure we have effectively created and can maintain an environment which matches your needs in terms of protection and control.’
Dream Catcher raised a finger as he saw Abi was about to comment. She closed her mouth and maintained her silence.
‘We will introduce as a part of our commitment to you such things as safewords, time out, contracts, negotiated limits and anything else we consider appropriate to formulate our relationship and make it acceptable to all our needs.
‘Do you understand these things, and are you willing to complete the process and commit yourself fully and absolutely to your Calling?’
Abi made sure she was fully alert, kneeling before him in her nakedness, back erect, hands resting in her lap, before carefully formulating her reply.
“My Masters, I so want to commit myself to you, in every way. I don’t fully understand my need; I only know that being a submissive has, until meeting you, only led me into pain. Pain is a part of who and what I am. But there needs to be the pleasure, the pleasing, the protection, the love, otherwise it is assault and abuse. Here you have made me whole. It has been a healing as well as a learning process, and I feel valued, respected, loved, and allowed to be the person I was meant to be. All I ask is that I stay to continue my development and to live out my Calling. I welcome a life shared with you.’
‘A good response indeed. You have been initiated into this life and found it suits you then. Therefore we will now go on to the second and final stage in making this marriage between us. The few weeks we have left before the first day of spring will be spent in preparation. Shadow will begin with your Position Training this morning, and set you a task on which to work.’
Dream Catcher left the room, and Shadow bid her stay in the position she was, but to turn and face where he sat in the chair.
‘Position Training is about obedience, humility, respect. It is aimed at teaching a submissive to assume a set of standard poses when the necessary voice command and signal is given. We will go through the moves one at a time. You must learn them well and be able to automatically give the correct move at any given time. You may be asked to assume a position by a word or hand signal given by either of your Masters. It is a necessary part of the discipline of being a slave. It is particularly important that you know these positions and can perform them without hesitation for the Collaring Ceremony.
‘The position you are in now is the standard slave position. A Master will either snap his fingers or utter the word “Standard”, and you will immediately obey. Your hands must be one on each knee palms up, your chin up also, but your eyes downcast. This is a position used when instructing or talking to you as we are now.’
Abi immediately adjusted her position to accommodate his words.
‘Now, submit to your Master. Bend fully, knees well apart, head to the floor, arms outstretched. This you will do whenever a Master enters the room, and you will remain until told otherwise.’
His hand was on her neck, firmly pressing her down. His fingers ran along her spine until they reached the valley of her bottom. And not for the first time she was surprised at the thrill of being held, tight and secure.
He felt her buttocks, massaging them before spanking them hard. Her groin ached all the more with need, but he released his hold on her, ignoring the shiver of her body as a wave of desire welled up from deep inside.
‘A slave will not come without a Master’s permission,’ he admonished, before proceeding with the lesson.
‘Stand up, legs apart. Hands clasped behind your head. Arch your back. You will come to this position when commanded by the word “Inspect”, or a single hand clap.’
Shadow came up behind her, and involuntary she turned.
‘Keep your head to the front, back arched. Do not ever move unless instructed.’
His hands began to stroke her flanks, taunting and teasing, almost forcing her to move, to go against his instruction just so he could have the excuse to punish her. But no, that was stupid. He was on her side. He only had her best interests at heart... didn’t he?
She shuddered, trying to maintain the position, failing miserably. He moved to hold her tummy with one hand while fingers pressed down her spine, now hurting, prodding, pushing, making her want to break free.
Then in a sudden movement he tilted her sideways, bending her from the waist to the left, thumb and fingers pressing their way down to her bottom.
‘Still some stiffness in the joints; we’ll need to work to make them more supple.’
She had the oddest feeling that they were not really the sentiments behind the words. There was something else, something she had sensed before, but which was now coming through more and more. She couldn’t get an angle on what it was. Only that he had a different agenda to Dream Catcher. He was tricky. He was not always what he seemed.
She regained her upright posture, only to find herself pinioned in turn to the right while he prodded down her left side in the same way.
‘Present.’ He faced her squarely, at the same time making a turning motion with his fist. A hand pushed her head well down, bending her down to her knees.
‘Spread the cheeks of your bottom, and keep your legs wide. This is the “Present” position; remember it and the signal used.’
Holding her firmly, not only with his hands but also with his legs entwined around hers, he spanked her bottom before a finger gently caressed and then pressed inside her anus. ‘Open yourself, slave. You’re tight, but you won’t be that way for long.’
Why did his words sound like a threat? Or perhaps they were meant as a pleasurable experience to look forward to.
‘Now lie on the floor the way you would when I examine you. This is the “Examine” position, indicated like this.’
Holding his hand parallel to the floor, he moved it sharply from left to right. Abi hastened herself into the position, and he moved her hands to her sides, palms facing upward, legs spread wide.
‘You will in future adopt this position when instructed, and it will be used to examine you.’
He knelt down with her and parted her labia, sliding one finger, then two, into her vagina. He watched the expression on her face change, and a single gasp escape her lips as he set up a rhythm using the thumb as a pivot.
‘Remember, slave, you cannot come without permission from your Master.’
He was teasing her. She knew it, but still she couldn’t help the spasms, the tingling, the flow of emotions. His fingers withdrew, glistening with her juices. For a moment, just a short fleeting moment, she held herself on the edge of a climax, and then frustrated by his withdrawal, writhed in a state of high agitation on the floor.
At once he pulled up her knees, widening her legs and holding her firm, and in deadly earnest smacked her several times on her pussy. She knew, even though she couldn’t help herself, that she had once more tested the boundaries, the limits of control he had over her, and failed. She was being punished.
He held her until she was still. Then turning her over quickly, spanked her buttocks with a series of hard and calculated smacks until both cheeks glowed warm and red.
The lesson then continued just as if there had been no interruption at all. But Abi was wary, uncertain about the mood which seemed to have taken Shadow over, or where it might lead.
‘These final two positions will play a major part in the Ceremony, and the movements must be fluid. Now kneel as before, but a shoulder width from me. Back straight. Arms behind your back. Head and eyes lowered. This is the “Collaring Position”, and a hand motion will be made by one or other of your Masters by placing our right hand to our throat. Your new collar, that of true slave, will be placed around your throat as a sign of commitment, together with the words that will pass between us.’
It was the first time she’d had any part of the Ceremony explained, and she listened carefully to his every word.
‘Finally, when cuffs are placed about your wrists you will hear the command “Cuffs Front” or “Cuffs Back”, indicated with the hand signal of an index finger and thumb encircling the left wrist, front or back, depending on which way it is to be.’
Shadow smiled at her look of confusion. ‘Don’t worry; we’ll go through this many times, and I’ll leave a list for you to study so it’ll be perfect on the day.’
Abi let out an audible sigh of relief; it was a lot to remember. For the moves to be smooth it would take time.
‘Now, before I set you your task, come to the couch and let us begin the necessary modifications to your body. It must look the best it can for the Ceremony, and you must be prepared for those things you’ll not know about until The Day.’
Once on the couch her legs were parted and fingers inserted into her vagina, already wet with anticipation. A set of small eggs replaced the fingers, sliding in to vibrate inside her. Then making certain he had her full attention, he uttered the word, ‘Present.’
He made a swift turning motion with his fist, but caught on the edge of a spasming climax it was a moment or two more before she obeyed... too late! He was playing with her again, and she had failed to notice the switch.
He turned her, legs drawn underneath, and spanked her again. ‘Your response must be quicker.’
She hoped his palm stung, but she’d need to watch that such thoughts passed unnoticed by keen eyes. And just to confuse her he added with a wry smile playing about his lips, ‘And yes, it seems we must see to your needs now or we will get no further.’
He held her firmly with one hand, while the fingers of the other returned to her anus and, combined with the vibrating eggs, brought her to a climax within seconds.
But Shadow was not finished. No sooner had she come than he told her to hold her cheeks apart in the true position of “Present”, and using a small hose, bathed the area well before patting her dry. He laughed openly, cruelly, taunting her without hiding what he thought.
‘You are so easy, so relaxed, so ready for what is to come.’
He pushed into her rectum a larger than usual butt plug, and she winced as he manipulated the intruder into place. ‘You need your passage widened,’ he said, answering her unspoken question. ‘But don’t worry; you won’t need it in for long. Now turn onto your back; we need to do the same to your sex.’
The vibrating eggs were driving her crazy, further and further towards another orgasm, but he eased them free and again used the hose to wash her thoroughly before inserting a plug into her vagina.
‘Now stand and assume the position.’ He clapped his hands once, saying, ‘Inspect,’ in a firm and commanding voice. At once she put her hands to the back of her head, legs wide apart, back arched. He placed on her a black leather corset which he tied tight, pulling in the ties, causing her to suck in her breath while ensuring her breasts were on display. Then he clamped each nipple again, causing her to wince, but she knew any protest would result in another punishment.
He pointed to the floor. ‘Standard,’ and she positioned herself at his feet while he sat on a chair.
‘We will finish this session with a task to complete over the next week. You are to pick and prepare a switch. Now the selection of a switch is very important both physically and psychologically. A good switch is taken from a tree in bud, about three-eighths of an inch thick at the handle end, and green, in the interest of bending as it strikes your bottom. You will prune it free of buds, breaking off all twigs, and then you will scrub it with anti-bacterial soap to assure its cleanliness, and leave it to soak in a bathtub of warm water. It will be your duty to check the switches at intervals, for yes, there will be more than one, ensuring the water does not cool. Are there any questions? You may speak freely.’
Abi was bursting with hidden fears she could not easily put into words, and so Shadow, in an act of comfort and strength, added, ‘It is the task which is important in this instance. Whether or not the switch is actually used is irrelevant.’
‘How will I know when the Ceremony is to take place?’ she asked. ‘I’ve no idea of time or even what day it is.’
‘You will know. Trust, remember? When the time is right we will come for you, and you will be ready. So complete the task which has been given. Learn the moves, positions and hand signals. In that way you will be prepared.’
He took her gently in his arms, cradling her in an act of unexpected affection, showing at least some of the deep feelings he had for her as a woman and as a slave soon to commit herself to them. He felt her panic, her fear, her anticipation, and her wonder. Beyond all doubt she would match the name they had chosen for her. He kissed her, an achingly passionate kiss.
‘Trust, my Little One. Know you are in safe hands. You have come Home.’
And then he left her, feeling just like a child waiting for Christmas.
Christmas was always going to come early, Richard chided himself gently. How could it not when he had such a beautiful protege living alongside him? His thoughts endlessly shaped and shifted around all the possibilities. It was just like having the best ever menu and not knowing which to choose - fillet or rib-eye, or then again leg or breast when it came to chicken. He liked them all.
Suddenly he laughed as he realised the route his thoughts were taking him. It was hard to concentrate, to focus on anything but the body... her body... the lines... her curves... the way she held herself, the way her breasts invited him to explore, to hold, to feel...
The times when he shared breakfast with her almost drove him crazy, not reaching out to touch, not drawing her in, having to remain separate, aloof, detached, as if his emotions weren’t really a part of him. And all the time churning, aching, erect... admiring from afar...
He was a man obsessed.
Finally, finally he had a slave within his grasp, it was a lifetime ambition - well almost - and he was keen to embellish the experience. The more he watched her through the screen the more he wanted her; to touch, to taste, to feel, to know everything there was to know, and more, much much more, to see how far the experience might go.
Business was good, the Christmas party season well underway. There were persistent rumours he was picking up of foreign investors looking for a restaurant chain, and it had been alluded to, it was his chain that was being targeted. Perhaps they were false, but if they were or not he may have to reassure his investors of any situation affecting the share price. Whatever the reason it meant he may have to be away from the island to visit his chief exec and the city. He had no option. Profitability was good. He was making money hand over fist. He didn’t like rumours, and he didn’t want the business threatened in any way. He didn’t like to compromise. He could put off the time of his departure until after the Ceremony, but no later. Meanwhile, the aching need within him was growing daily. It was driving him to distraction, so much so that perhaps he had taken his eye off the ball.
He glanced at his desk. Usually he was organised, and yet his in-tray was unusually full. Something had to be done - and soon.
And where was Shadow? He should at least have been keeping papers in check, putting the most urgent in a separate pile for his attention. He checked the CCTV images being relayed to his computer. The camera displays in front of him showed his manservant in turn gazing down at a screen. Shadow’s back was towards him.
What the fuck was Shadow looking at?
He watched with concern, and then a growing sense of envy as Shadow’s unseen hand obviously slipped between his legs to stroke his cock slowly up and down, becoming more and more urgent, his body carrying through the rhythm. It could almost be termed a dance. He was monitoring Pandora, but what was Pandora doing to generate such lust? Not for the first time he wished he had more time to train her himself, rather than have his trusted sub do it.
But what was Shadow seeing on his screen? It reminded him of when a boy at the fair watching his friends being titivated by peep shows. He’d listen enviously to their excited chatter about what they’d seen, how they felt, what they wanted to do after. Why hadn’t his father allowed him the experience? What could be so bad? After all, wasn’t it part of a growing boy’s education, part of his carnal knowledge, to know such things? Shame he’d had to wait so long for the answers...
He clicked on the screen to maximise the camera watching Pandora. She lay naked on the bed. One hand was wrapped around the head of a hairbrush, while the handle disappeared between her legs. Her other hand pinched the shy left nipple, and even he could see it was round and ripe, and obviously the instrument of an arousing pleasure-pain experience. Pandora looked achingly beautiful. Her eyes were closed. Her lips parted. Hair fanned around her head on the pillow, and she snaked across the bed, caught in self-induced abandon. No wonder Shadow was so excited.
But now what was he to do? Between them they had just exacerbated his problem. While his manservant was fixating on his slave and in no way attempting to castigate her, she was breaking all the rules and masturbating. Both should be punished, but was that necessarily the right action to take?
Angered and even slightly jealous by the images on the CCTV, he pressed the pager button to summon Shadow. But the figure on the screen didn’t move. He pressed the button again... and then again. Still he seemed oblivious to the pager. All his attention was focused on the ‘peep show’.
It wasn’t the first time Richard’s commands had gone unheeded. His reactions were getting slower. For a period of time he had known Shadow was following his own agenda, and he’d let it go unchecked. That had been careless of him. But then his own mind had been distracted. It was also apparent that, since introducing Pandora into the household, Shadow was getting above his station. He would think nothing of questioning a command when his immediate response should be to act without thinking. He knew well enough the first rule of a slave: to act immediately a command is given.
But what was he doing now? He’d moved out of the line of vision. Deliberate? Was he daring to play with him? Had he learned the trick of where he could be just out of sight of a camera? For a long while he’d been thinking of installing additional cameras, but with Shadow present all the time on the island how could he? Perhaps this was the time and he should create a window of opportunity by making Shadow ‘absent’ for a while.
He mused on the idea while his fingers tapped the keys irritably, trying to locate his missing servant. This would need to be played carefully. Shadow wasn’t stupid. Shadow must have a hideaway, created when he set the cameras up, a place out of reach, out of sight. Clever. He knew he wasn’t going to find that place now; his mind was still too full of the girl. But soon, Shadow, and in the meantime a plan had begun to form.
‘You called?’
He whirled around, knowing he should have pre-empted that. Shadow stood in the doorway, appearing as if out of nowhere.
‘Master?’
He had adopted the demeanour of a servant who expected to be punished. His manner was subservient, almost obsequious. With head bowed low he appeared humbled, but Richard was not easily fooled.
‘Why did you not come the moment I called you?’
‘I came as soon as I heard.’
‘Now you are arguing, and that I will not tolerate!’
‘Yes, Master... I mean, no... I mean...’
‘You are blustering, man. You don’t have to think. Your place is simply to do. Is that clear?’
He knew Shadow hated to be put in his place, to be reminded of his position. And now he was doing it deliberately, pushing the boundaries of their relationship, aware that he had been deceived at least on this occasion. He wondered how many other times it had happened. It brought in doubt and called into question trust and loyalties and commitment. How far could he rely on his man?
‘I’d like a glass of whisky.’
‘Yes, Master.’ Shadow retreated from the room. In his absence Richard paced, occasionally rubbing his fingers lovingly down the spine of one of the many books lining the oak-panelled walls. This was his inner sanctum. A place where he could think, where he relaxed and dreamed dreams. Occasionally he would have Shadow read to him. It was soothing. But not now. Not this evening. This night was meant for better things, and for Shadow had come the reckoning long deserved.
A gentle rap of knuckles on the door heralded his return.
‘Enter.’ Shadow took three steps into the room and stood, head bowed, glass sitting on a tray, waiting. ‘Come.’
A glass slid into his hand. It had been chilled just the way he liked it. He was obviously trying hard, and then the next moment Shadow was bent double on the floor, hands reaching behind him while he kissed his shoes.
‘Oh get up, for God’s sake. Do you hear? Get up!’ He was irritated by this display of servitude, and impatient to move on.
‘Have you seen Pandora? Do you know what she’s doing right now?’
‘I have no idea, Master. I have been busy in the kitchen. Why, do you need me to check on her, or perhaps prepare her?’
Lies...
‘I’ve been watching you watching her. Very cosy.’
‘Oh...’
‘Yes, exactly. You understand now where I am coming from, why I’m annoyed, and why perhaps we should try out the switch Pandora made to find out exactly the impact it will have if used on her bare bottom.’
‘Master, you wouldn’t...’
‘Go, fetch. You have five minutes exactly. Any longer and the punishment will be even worse.’
‘Master, please don’t make me do this. I’m a loyal and humble servant, and...’
‘Your punishment has just gone up another notch. You are questioning a direct order. Anything more, even a whisper or a frown, and the punishment will be extremely severe.’
‘May I leave the room, Master?’ Shadow bent his head, knowing he was defeated, unsure what might happen next.
He heard the zing... zing... zing whistle through the air even before white hot pain seared across his buttocks. He lay tense. This was not the way it was supposed to be. This was degrading. He didn’t enjoy the position at all. But then, Richard was making a point. He’d pushed the boundaries too far. No, more than that, he’d slipped up badly, not expecting him to catch on to what he was doing so soon.
Thwack...
It came again and he couldn’t help it; despite his resolve he let out a scream. This was too much! He didn’t deserve...
Thwack... thwack... thwack...
How many more might it take before Richard’s anger was satisfied? Or was it something more? Had this anything to do with the girl? If so, by God he would make her pay, and then some, because this was seriously interfering in his relationship with Richard. It made sense when he came to think about it. He’d caught the glitter in his eye, saw the bulge in his trousers as he threw accusations against him, and the fact he’d been watching him watching Pandora; he should have known. He’d no idea that his charge of her would affect them so much.
The air was still around him, as if waiting, drawing breath. He relaxed his body, feeling the welts across his buttocks biting, the heat of the strokes burning through the tender flesh. It would be a while until he could sit down with any degree of comfort. And he would need to be damn careful that Pandora didn’t catch on. It would take away the respect she had for him.
He and Richard, they had dreamed dreams in this room, shared hidden desires, wished for a slave to share between them, a girl they could train, who would do their bidding and keep house, but also see to their needs. It had worked well, until now.
The silence lengthened. It was a favoured ploy of Richard’s, so that he never quite knew whether the session was over. But then again, it had never been this way between them. It was more about control, Master/sub, and friendship. Nothing had jeopardised that before. He was no longer sure of his ground. He knew things were bad in business right now. Perhaps it was the stress combined with preparations for the forthcoming celebrations that had pushed things over the edge.
Suddenly there was a pull on his wrists. A tightness on his arms. ‘Master?’
‘Yes, you might well wonder what’s going to happen. For a while now you’ve forgotten the way it is between us. Acting as equals is for the benefit of Pandora only. In truth you know I am Master, and it is time you were reminded of that fact.’
‘But all the time I’m mindful...’
‘You have been playing games with me under my own roof. But this is no game. You will learn your lesson well, and then things will change... dramatically. Mark my words.’
He was using his favoured bola-bola knot, wrapping rope around both wrists before tucking the bight underneath and pulling it through. Richard was an expert in Shibari. The rope handcuffs were effective. They had been his first lesson in Japanese roping and he loved to practice whenever he had the chance of a willing participant... or not. Now his actions were impersonal, simply a means to an end. They weren’t playing, this was for real. And he seemed impatient to get to the point of what came after.
Shadow wondered suddenly what would follow. He had no idea where this version of events would end. But he had the uncanny feeling it wasn’t going to be pleasant for him, given the way things were developing.
Rope caught his ankle, holding it taut, reaching across to the other and leaving a drag between them to allow small walking steps. To complete the exercise in humiliation, a short length of lead was attached to his collar. Then he was being led down the hallway and through doorways, down into the darkest dungeon and the cage.
The cage squatted in a corner, like some trapped animal. Made of metal, the rungs on top and sides were close together. The metal flooring was cold. The space cramped. Cruelly he was twisted, bent and pushed inside and the door clanged shut behind him. Feeling already the cramps kicking in to his side he crouched and swivelled, cracking his head on the unforgiving bars, trying to find a position with some degree of comfort. But it was hard. Everything about it was hard. And he had no idea how long he might be left alone.
‘Master, you don’t have to do this. I mean, we can talk about things, share the way we used to. I’ve missed that so much. I guess you have too. It hasn’t been the same since...’
He was talking to thin air.
Richard felt good. It had been a while since he had felt so good. Suddenly he felt truly Master again, back in control of his own home. The more he thought about things the more he came to realise that he had been taken for a fool. Shadow wasn’t stupid. They had been friends for many years, but always there had been this need, this untapped source of energy within his friend to dominate, but also to be submissive.
He was a conundrum. He had always tried to hide his feelings, to hold them in check. But Richard had found him out. It had happened quite by chance.
They met at university. They had known of each other in their school years as they’d played on opposing teams in football and cricket. But finally they came together to marry two best friends, Sheila and Beth. Those years were good. Money came in like there was no tomorrow as his chain of hotels and restaurants grew and flourished. And of course there was the acquisition and development of Hartington Hall, where he now had an experienced team offering a range of health and beauty services, creating bridges of wellbeing between him and guests. It had worked well, being able to send Pandora there in the beginning to prepare her.
Shadow, in his own professional field within the medical fraternity in those early years, had become more and more respected as a surgeon. Often they would spend weekends away together with their wives. But more and more through the week they found Sheila and Beth had been feeding their own perverse pleasures, sowing the seeds of visiting a swingers party, ‘just to look’. Then one evening over dinner together plans were hatched, and they found themselves in the house of a wealthy businessman in the middle of the countryside.
It had been dark when they arrived, but the blazing lights and sound of laughter and music attracted them. Men and women of all ages clustered like moths around a flame, displaying a peculiar manner of dress. It was a fetish party, and yet in amongst them had been the swingers. And in rooms set aside at the back, glasses in hand topped up at intervals by a transvestite maid, they became a part of the scene. It was a monthly event. The house had been bought to hire out to such groups, and the owners made such a mint of money that Richard seriously considered taking the same course of action as an investment.
They became regular attendees, but then more and more Shadow crept upstairs while his wife Sheila was involved usually with Dave, a favourite. One day Richard followed him, curious, and in a room at the top of the stairs a man stood naked, fettered to a cross hanging from the ceiling, feet spread, arms stretched, crucified and yet with such a look of ecstasy and devotion it was easy to tell he was savouring the experience. Opposite, through a doorway, a girl rode bareback, a hood covering her head, arms tied tight behind her. A dark-haired Domme gripped her long hair to yank her forward and then twitched a short wooden handle to send a whip lashing across her buttocks. He’d stayed awhile, fascinated by the complex pattern of red stripes crisscrossing pale flesh. The need within him grew, and he wondered what it meant, where it might take him.
Shadow had been in the farthest room. He was splayed full length on a bed, naked, being flogged by a tall bronzed Dom. Richard vaguely recognised him as one who used to bully his friend at school. It was shocking, especially as Shadow’s whole demeanour was about authority and control, and yet at the same time, knowing them both, it made compulsive viewing. Standing to one side of the doorway he remained out of sight, and yet able to see every bit of the scene being played out in front of him. Following the flogging Shadow knelt before the Dominant as if it was the most natural position in the world.
It wasn’t the only time. Again and again Richard discovered him in all manner of submissive positions, and not always with the same Dom, but obviously thoroughly enjoying himself and relishing this secret side of himself. Richard decided then that, rather than reveal the fact he knew, he would keep this newfound information to himself, at least for the time being.
Then came the car crash. The suddenness of it all still made him wince as the pain of losing his wife cut through him, slicing his emotions, leaving him with the same sense of acute loss and panic and dread he experienced at the time. It seemed Sheila and Beth had discovered a new venue. They were checking it out when the car skidded out of control. They swerved to avoid another car on the road, drove over the edge, and far below in the ravine the vehicle caught fire. Almost nothing was recovered. At least, that’s what he’d been told. He’d been overseas, about to close the deal on a new investment, when the news came through. Immediately everything had to be put on hold while he travelled back. He didn’t remember the journey. Only the words; brutal words which cut deep, making him gasp for breath, taking away the best thing to have ever happened to him... Beth.
He missed her. Oh, how he missed her! She would have been so proud of him, his success. And then there was the island. They had dreamed of having somewhere like this, completely cut off from the outside world, theirs to open and shut the door to depending on who they chose. Wishes, dreams, shattered in moments. Every morning still he woke to stretch out his arms, devastated not to find her at his side. Pandora reminded him of her and their beginnings. With her he was certain he could have the same again.
Pandora.
The woman in Greek history who had dared to open the box of secrets, and at the bottom had been Hope.
His feet were already treading the stairs before he properly realised where he was heading. He made no sound on the thick carpets, and when he reached the archway he was able to stand and admire her gentle curves, the long lashes that fluttered, hands moving as if in time to an unheard melody.
‘Pandora...’
The name drifted from between his lips, a murmured whisper mirroring his thoughts. And then, on impulse, he entered the room and, moving softly to the side of the bed, took up the blindfold from the chest of drawers and placed it over her still closed eyes.
‘Shadow?’
It was always Shadow who came to collect her, so why would she think any different? And how would he explain his presence to her? The change in what had always been? But then, it didn’t matter. He was Master. He could do as he pleased.
She allowed him to lead. Even when the path seemed unfamiliar she accepted. Her trust was complete. Only when they stood a little apart in the oak-panelled library did he remove the blindfold and watch her confusion grow.
‘Dream Catcher...’
He watched her confusion grow. She hadn’t been in this part of the house before. He had been saving it until after the Ceremony. Her gaze fell on the switch she had made earlier and he cursed himself for not having hidden it away.
‘Where is this place?’ she asked. ‘And where is Shadow?’
How easily one lie led to another! It was too easy to enter a labyrinth of deceit and struggle with the need to remember the way he had come. ‘A change is called for, I think. Something different. Shadow will join us later... or then again, perhaps not.’
She heard the decisive derision in his voice, and yet sensed something he wasn’t saying. The mood had changed. The room was different. She was out of her comfort zone. She wasn’t sure what might happen next. And suddenly she wasn’t sure.
With a firmness of hand, and yet with great gentleness given her uncertainty, he led her to the sofa. She was naked. It was easy to make her kneel and bend, pushing her milk-white cheeks towards him. She was wet. The unexpectedness of her situation was working well.
‘Now relax, Little One, this is a treat, something which should give us both pleasure, and you some much needed pain also.’
‘Yes, Master.’ Still she was unsure... watching... waiting... wondering what might come.
He held her, smoothing and stroking each buttock, gently patting the area before repeating the pattern again. He continued for some minutes, and then began delivering a series of sharper smacks designed to turn up the heat after the initial warm up. There was a sharp intake of breath. Her body was squirming now, and he knew he had her right where she needed to be.
‘You will not cum until you have permission to do so. Is that understood?’
She gasped, and he brought his hand down sharply two, three times to each buttock, before resuming the pattern of before.
‘Yes... yes... no, I won’t cum, Master.’
‘Good. Let that be understood. You haven’t played with yourself in the interim, have you?’
Again he swept his hand down, smartly smacking each cheek in turn. He sensed the war going on inside her. Would she admit to her discretion?
‘Yes, Master, I’m sorry. I let you down. I had a moment of weakness, and I was missing you so...’
He was gladdened at her response. His heart sang. It meant at least she was still loyal to him. He wasn’t losing the plot entirely. Something must be working. But he couldn’t let it go.
‘You know you will be punished? It is necessary and deserving.’
‘Yes, Master... but how did you know?’
He let the question pass. It was of no consequence. It only mattered if he needed it to. Action would speak louder than words. He gripped her tighter and swept the palm of his hand down again, four times, her right buttock now reminiscent of a ripened apple, the skin smooth and supple, wobbling a little as he upped the pace.
‘Oh, Master, that hurts!’
‘But not enough it seems, because you still have breath for words.’
He mirrored the same on the left cheek, and then with consistent timing he upped the ante, with a series of short sharp smacks steadily progressing to increase the depth of pain. Beneath his hands her cheeks glowed. They were warm to touch. She was groaning; now not with anguish but with a deepening desire for more. He hadn’t cuffed her. He knew he wouldn’t need to.
‘Is this it, Master? Is this the punishment you’re giving me?’
He laughed. ‘No. You think this is punishment? We both know it isn’t. Feel it... understand the sensation. This is about pleasure more than it is pain. Relax into it. Your instinct will be to fight against it, to preserve your body, to hold back, to wriggle away. Instead, ride the emotion and let it carry you on its journey to a place from where you will not want to return.’
He was enjoying himself. Being Master wasn’t just about meting out punishment, being in control, but rather in inflicting pleasure, at least to those deserving. His thoughts fleetingly turned to Shadow, cowering in the cage. He hoped right now he was feeling very alone, very abandoned. It paid sometimes to know another’s breaking point. But then, this was not the time.
‘Come, join me over here and we’ll try something different, something you haven’t had before. I think it’s time. And after the Ceremony there will be still something more special waiting for you. A surprise. But you’ll need to wait until then to find out what it is, and in the meantime...’ She followed him. ‘Now lie on your stomach across the table while I prepare. I think we’ll have you bound so you can more fully enjoy the experience, knowing you cannot move.’
The coffee table was cold. He knew her nipples would stand out proud as they touched it, and he was not disappointed. He leaned down and fondled each of them, before displaying the rope and knotting a wrist to each leg. She raised her head to look at him, and her sparkling eyes reached in and through him, calling to his heart. He was in love with her, and he smiled. It was the most beautiful feeling on earth and one he’d never hoped to find again. But then here it was, staring him right in the face, and he wasn’t going to lose it ever again.
He touched her face briefly before moving down to secure her legs in the same way as her wrists. His hands lightly caressed her body. It was beautiful. He remembered their first meeting in the hotel room, her reticence in revealing herself to him. Now without any hesitation at all she lay in front of him, proud, offering herself as a gift, trusting him to do right by her. They were ready for the final phase in the ceremony that was to come.
From one corner of the room he took a long narrow case and carried it to where she lay. Then turning his back so she couldn’t see, he arranged things just so, and then selected his tool.
The movement, when it came, was gentle and slow, almost mesmerising. Pandora was stimulated by the experience, and Richard was pleased. He recognised the signs. Her body language showed that this was right for her. Now all he needed was to encourage, to develop, to enhance to the point of touching the pinnacle of the pain-pleasure experience.
He exchanged the small multi suede-stranded ‘Hawk’ flogger for a ball chain. He understood from past experience the gentle swishing of it up and down the spine could produce the sensation of a waterfall affect, and was relaxing and yet at the same time invigorating, rather like a massage.
Her body was looking as if it had undergone a gentle tanning procedure. It positively glowed. He stroked and soothed, and was rewarded by appreciative murmurs. It was proving to be an exhilarating experience for them both.
The leather flogger was thick and heavy. It could be used for either smoothing or beating. He did both, and produced the desired affect.
‘Master...,’ she mumbled, ‘please may I cum? It’s driving me crazy...’
‘No.’ His response was immediate. ‘You will hold that thought. I will tell you when to cum, do you hear?’
He swatted the leather flogger down with an almighty thud, and then again and again, landing with precision, listening to her squeals of pain interspersed with what he knew to be pleasure.
‘You haven’t answered the question.’
Again and again he struck, squeezing from her the words, ‘Master... I’ve forgotten what the question was!’
‘I was instructing you that you do not cum until I say so.’ He paused, listening to her rapid breathing. Watching the fire in her belly coarse through her veins to redden her skin, knowing she was struggling to hold the rapidly growing feelings inside.
He changed to a Python rubber flogger. Each instrument brought its own particular brand of pain. The trick was to build the sensations in such a way as to create a tsunami of feelings so great, so overwhelming, she wouldn’t be able to hold back the torrent whether he ordered it or not.
Soon it would be the turn of his favourite tools. He was enjoying the session, the bond it was creating between them, and again he wondered if it had been wise to use Shadow to train her. He concentrated often on one type of play when there was so much more to use to tantalise and tease and draw out hidden feelings. Shadow had the tools of his trade. He used his experience well. But perhaps he had served his purpose. They had shared friendship and the common experience of grief, but maybe it was time to move on.
Pandora was writhing on the table. There was a growing sense of urgency. A need was building and would not be denied; at least not for much longer. She was ready for the grand finale, so he replaced the flogger and grasped his ultimate toy.
He held her ready, preparing her with words, yet knowing that words were so inadequate when she would ride the feelings which, in turn, would carry her to some far and distant place within her mind. He wished he could join her, but it was her own space and he would be an intruder. This was a journey she needed to travel alone. It was what he had promised her from the beginning, and there would be other times, and soon, when they would travel there together.
‘Listen now, my sweet...’ He was aware the sensations were already taking her, but he continued all the same, saying it perhaps more for his own benefit than for hers. ‘A pleasurable BDSM experience depends on an experienced Dom or Master and the bottom or slave attaining the correct state of mind. We have achieved both. We are Givers. This day we have served one another well. And there will be other times, and soon... soon.’
With one hand he took firm hold just below her ribs on one side, and gently with the other hand caressed the soreness of her bottom, where the strokes of his favoured instrument would fall.
‘Together we have played the symphony of love. And you need to think of each sensation as a musical note set in our composition, which we have created together. It belongs to us. To this day. Now you are about to take it to another level and experience those different sensations in a medley of mixed emotions, taking you to our grand finale... and beyond.’
She was raising her buttocks towards him, seeking his hands, urging them on, wanting it... needing it... crying out for The One to finally complete the symphony and to make her cum.
‘Remember what I promised from the beginning; it is now time to release the endorphins and to truly make you fly.’
As an accompaniment to his words he was toying with her, playing with the valley between her buttocks, teasing it with the cane. The rattan was made up of three canes in one handle. Sweet! Anything else was too clumpy. Finally this would push her over the edge.
The swish of air was the only warning that came.
Her scream followed.
The endorphin rush had begun. Steadily it had been building even as she entered the room. Now it was time to give it wings, to let it fly free and take her beyond, to experience euphoria.
‘There will be six, six strokes of this very special cane, and on the sixth you can cum. But I think you will be ready for so much more by then.’
Again he brought the cane down hard across her bottom. The sting curdled a further scream, but in that scream was the sound of something else, something far deeper, and he knew with absolute certainty by the sixth stroke she would be gone.
The third stroke was yielded. He knew this was what being a Master was all about. It wasn’t about the power to do this; the control and having someone subservient under him. This was about giving pain, but teaching the recipient how to give in to it, and to understand and know the absolute experience that comes when endorphins kick in. After all, it’s the reason people dice with death in all manner of ways in order to achieve the kind of experience she was experiencing now; base jumpers, white water rafting, sky diving...
‘Four...’ He felt the surge of energy within her.
‘Five...’ Her body was twitching, gyrating.
‘Six...’
She lay still. At peace. Her bottom was like a badge of courage. Her head lolled down over the edge of the table. Gently he stroked her hair. She really was beautiful, and she was his... all his. No one else would have her or mark her or play with her. She was too precious. Too special.
It would take her a while to emerge from the deepest of sub-space where he’d sent her. He worked at the knots which held her, then gently carried her to the sofa, laying her on cushions to rest.
There was now time to settle the remaining loose end before he shared an evening meal with her.
It was cold, dark and dismal. Not a nice place to be. The cage hadn’t been used in a very long while. The room was damp and smelly, but the overriding feeling was one of abandonment, and Shadow didn’t like that at all.
He might not be a big figure, but he was bulky, fit, muscular. Fitting into the cage was like putting a shark in a goldfish bowl. He hadn’t been there more than five minutes and he was stir crazy. He could well understand tigers caged at the zoo, banging their heads against the walls of their imprisonment, hearing the call of the wild, longing to break free.
Richard had taken the warning bell with him. It was usually kept within reach just outside the cage. The lock was secure. The bars thick and unyielding. He couldn’t even sit comfortably, his back wedged tight while his knees were drawn up under his chin. And there was nowhere at all to put his arms except pushed right in close to his body where his movements weren’t just restricted, there wasn’t room for movement at all. Worst of all was that the flogging with the switch had turned him on. Yes, it hurt like crazy; it wasn’t his chosen means of corporal punishment by any means. He’d been flogged before, many times in all different positions and situations, but always with paddles, floggers, crop or cane, or if he was excited enough, one following the other. But he’d never experienced the switch. The bite was similar to a cane, but much more whippy, and it did something to him deep inside. He hadn’t expected such a powerful reaction. His body rebelled, trying to fight against the pain, and yet at the same time was flooded with the overwhelming feelings of satisfaction. He’d been careful not to let it show, but now, trussed up in the cage, he could do sod all about the urge that continued to grind and growl inside him, setting him on edge, needing the act of fulfilment. And that wasn’t good!
His whole body was wound up like a tight spring. He was ready to explode.
‘Yah!’ he roared into the silence, knowing that sound could not carry beyond the room, except through the speakers installed.
It had been fun in the past to sit in front of the console upstairs and view a tormented victim through the camera. He enjoyed being a voyeur when Richard had his wicked way.
‘Yah!’ he roared in frustration again, begging to be free.
What the hell was Richard playing at? Why didn’t he come to release him? How long was he going to keep up this charade? Okay, so he needed to be seen to be punishing him, but enough was enough.
‘Yah!’ he roared simply because he could. His voice was the only thing he had left, it seemed, the only way of venting his feelings.
But no one heard, no one listened, no one cared.
And yet suddenly he heard the sound he had been waiting for - footsteps on the stairs. He strained his ears. Surely he hadn’t been mistaken. The door was open a crack, and he was sure Richard was there. Perhaps he had never left at all, and this was an exercise in seeing what he might do, how he might cope, just to give him a taste of a punishment and then let him go.
Silence.
And then he heard what he dreaded most - footsteps retreating.
It wasn’t going to be that easy then. ‘Richard, Richard, come on... let me out. Okay, so I was wrong. Whatever it is you believe I’ve done, then I admit it. Please, just let me go, release me from this infernal cage and I’ll do anything required to make it up to you. Please.’
In a corner of the room the light of the camera blinked knowingly, recording these moments, as if they might be needed as evidence later.
A plan was evolving with every step Richard took towards the dungeon. He had been trained to analyse problems, collect, store and interpret data, and to deduce the logical or even pragmatic solution to any problem. The sudden turn of events didn’t faze him. In fact, things had worked well in his favour.
Finding out about Shadow’s devious activities and ways of working to his own advantage meant an end to the relationship they had shared. He was tired of playing his Master. The tantrums and sudden change of mood could be wearing. Yes, they’d had a good innings, they had supported one another since the untimely death of their wives, and the company had been welcome. But Shadow had a habit of moving things along at his pace; pushing him into areas he didn’t really feel comfortable in or want to go. The time was right. He would tell him straight. And for the work he’d put in over past months in training Pandora he would pay him off handsomely, but then tell him to go. He’d take him to the mainland, but after that he was on his own. He had friends. He wouldn’t be alone for long.
He had entered the hallway leading to the steps down to the dungeon when the phone rang.
Sod it! He didn’t want any interruptions now. His first instinct was to ignore it, but the ringing was persistent, shrill, biting into his thoughts, urging him to answer. It could be Gerard, his Chief Exec; his call was long overdue.
He turned and hurried back to the nearby telephone hung under a mounted painting of one of his ancestors, Uncle George. Absently he stroked a finger along the frame, noting the dust. Shadow again, not keeping up with his chores.
‘Hello, Richard? Thank God you answered. We’ve received an unsolicited approach and we need your immediate thoughts...’
The phone call lasted some time. He listened long and hard, and wondered why he paid his Chief Exec such a salary when he couldn’t handle the initial discussions and prepare a brief for him and the City, but his attitude softened and he issued detailed instructions to his subordinate on what he required, with the assurance he would join him when all the facts were known. He demanded absolute discretion and authorised any action to dispel any unfavourable rumours. He knew his Chief Exec well enough to know favourable rumours would be exploited to strengthen their position in any way they could. He closed the conversation, idly wondering what an unsolicited offer for the business would be worth and how much he could up the ante if it was genuine.
He stood quietly once he’d put the phone down, caught between business and pleasure. It would mean bringing the Ceremony forward, and he’d need to leave almost immediately afterwards. That was a blow. He couldn’t take Pandora with him, so he’d need to retain the services of Shadow a while longer and appease him, while making it crystal clear he was not to take advantage of the situation in his absence. It wasn’t ideal, but what else could he do?
This needed to be sorted. He turned and strode with renewed vigour to the steps leading to the dungeon below.
It was an extraordinary feeling of exhilaration, and yet at the same time an overwhelming sense of peace that lifted and held Pandora. At first everything had distanced, voices came as if from a long way off. She was aware of her surroundings but then less and less so as they paled into insignificance. It was hard to find words to describe the experience. It was more about feelings... floating... flying... with a weightlessness that defied all reason.
She couldn’t make sense of it, but then again, she didn’t have to. She felt calm, allowing herself simply to drift and be held and taken to whatever shore she might find herself washed up on. The feelings she held were like the sea, coming in waves, gentle, rocking, lifting, gliding, flowing. She wanted it to go on and on and on.
But then something stopped her.
Something snagged her mind.
A thought tore free from the safety and warmth of the cocoon and continued to prick until she took notice. Something wasn’t right. She didn’t know more, but she should explore, and as the path of reason began to find a way, slowly she started to surface through the bubble of blue, to the realisation of the thought that was now troubling her.
She lay in a nest of cushions on the sofa. It wasn’t a room she was familiar with, and it took some minutes before she remembered the way she had been taken from her own room to this with a blindfold, believing it to be Shadow leading her. That’s what didn’t fit. In all these months always, always it had been Shadow who would come for her. Dream Catcher never did.
And this was different; more different because of how her senses had been aroused, and the acts performed between them born out of love. She was sure he loved her, and she was equally certain there was stuff going on between Dream Catcher and Shadow, stuff she didn’t understand. Shadow’s whole persona had changed. It was like having two people in charge of her instead of one, both living in the same body, both equally capable, and yet one so loving and one so cruel.
She wasn’t sure how long she had been lying on the sofa, but it was strange no one was with her now. That was also different. She lowered her feet to the floor, knowing she was still held by the power of sub-space. Her mind kind of drifted in and out of reality. She wasn’t certain about what was dream and what was real any more, but she knew she was thirsty.
She passed a desk, surprised that Dream Catcher would have so much paperwork stacked in an in-tray, when he seemed such an ordered kind of man. Beyond she caught sight of a curtain. Perhaps it hid a kettle, something to drink. She drew it to one side, and then caught her breath. A computer had been shielded from view, but it wasn’t so much that as what she saw on the monitor that shocked her. It was a small, rather dark room, with all manner of things cluttering the space, and a cage squatted in the farthest corner with what looked to be a man huddled inside.
The figure was knotted, the picture confused. She reached to turn up the volume, and then drew back suddenly at the sound of a voice she knew. Dream Catcher! He entered the frame from the right, already speaking as he approached the cage.
‘So, do you think you’ve learned your lesson?’
The response from the cage was muffled and she couldn’t hear properly.
‘That’s good news. But now things have moved on. Plans have changed, and you need to be aware of the part you’ll play in them, and the way it’ll be for the future.’
Again she missed the reply.
‘This isn’t a discussion, damn it, so listen well.’
She’d never heard Dream Catcher angry, and there was almost a snarl in his voice. But then, with an effort, he seemed to calm himself.
‘I’ve allowed things to slide for too long, but now you’ll remember what I tell you. There is no going back. The past is gone. We are approaching a new year, and with it the dawn of a new age. Business necessitates that I bring forward the Ceremony, so there is much to do in the changing of arrangements. Then I will need to be away. It need not concern you where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing, or indeed who I am going to see. Your sole function in my absence will be to look after Pandora.’
For a moment she lost the trail of words in her confusion. They were discussing her. Or rather, Dream Catcher was putting the man in charge of her while he was going away. No, she needed him with her. He couldn’t go away now, no matter what the reason!
She wasn’t thinking clearly. Her mind was a fog. There was something she wasn’t getting, just out of her grasp. But then as she watched Dream Catcher turn a key in the padlock and the door of the cage swing open, she gasped in surprise at the figure unfolding, struggling to be free.
Shadow!
What was Shadow doing locked up in a cage?
What hold did Dream Catcher have over him?
What was their relationship really about?
She was missing vital information. But then again, her confusion was such that there was every chance she was completely misinterpreting the situation. She stepped back to the sofa, and by the time Dream Catcher returned she had fallen into an exhausted sleep, from which he woke her with a steaming mug of cocoa before leading her blindfolded back to her room.
It was the first day of a new year. Dream Catcher and Shadow entered her room as the sun spread its soft warm glow across the heavens.
Abi had known they would come. The night before helicopters landed on the beach, and shadows moved through the velvet darkness, touched by fingers of moonlight as they made their way up to the house. Far off she’d heard voices, many voices which hung in the air, creating an electric atmosphere of excited anticipation, stirring her into a hopeless state of panic and arousal as she tried to prepare for this day.
Dream Catcher and Shadow stood in the archway, watching her face light up like a child on Christmas morning, eager to open her first present. Used now to the order of things, her attention was caught by the large black case held in Shadow’s hand. To his right Dream Catcher’s arms were filled with a long suit or dress cover, and what looked like a small jewellery case.
‘It is time. The hour fast approaches when we will each make our commitment to the other, and we will be bound together as One. Are you ready to commit yourself to us, slave?’
Already Abi was kneeling on the floor at their feet in the submissive position, just the way she had been taught. ‘I am ready, Masters, to please and to serve you forever.’
As always the two men were struck by her simple act of acceptance, of trust, of faith, aware of the tremendous responsibility she placed on them to ensure her complete protection. They knew how vital it was to maintain the cherishment as well as the control, both to fulfil her as a woman and to be certain she felt special and loved at all times. She was gentle, fragile, vulnerable. Her needs made her a high maintenance slave, and would warrant unlimited stimulation and time to express her creativity, to develop her talents and skills, particularly those in writing and the arts. Time Out would be a necessary provision of their commitment to her, in which she might also spend time with family and even just rest. These needs were not incompatible with her overwhelming need to be owned. All this had been explained to her and was understood and accepted as part of her contract with them.
‘Come and we will begin to prepare for the Ceremony of Commitment when, finally, you will be collared and named as slave under the House of Arcana.’
They refused to answer any one of her pressing questions about what was to happen, who would be present, what was expected of her. Nor would they allow her to examine those things they had brought to symbolise the day.
A special breakfast was shared. Then they showered, removing all clamps and plugs she had been ordered to wear, and laid her on the couch pulled out from the wall. There, carefully and methodically, Shadow shaved her pussy while Dream Catcher took her hands in his and held her arms up, gazing all the while into the bright eyes watching his every move. She fluttered as a bird, unsure, unwilling to leave the nest, uncertain about her abilities, confused about the next step to take.
Softly he brushed her forehead, and the single teardrop which appeared on her cheek as her fears came to the fore.
‘Trust us. That is all we ask, all that is required of you. Know we have only your best interests at heart. Be certain in the knowledge you have been prepared for this day to a high standard. This is your Destiny. Meet it with your head held high. Embrace the dream, for soon, soon, there will come the moment when all your dreams are realised and you are one of us, one with us... slave.’
They examined her, meticulous in their observations, talking to one another about particular aspects of her body, before turning her onto her front, binding her arms and securing her feet, clamped to the corners of the couch.
‘We are now going to mark you as our slave. Accept this as the first symbol of our commitment to you. It is a symbol which will match your slave name and by which others may know you belong to us, your Masters, and to the House of Arcana.’
‘Will it hurt?’
‘Yes, it will hurt, Little One. Shadow will tattoo the symbol we have created unique to you just below your right shoulder, and you will be allowed to see it only when the Ceremony is complete and you are truly slave. Prepare yourself.’
A small humming sounded and a tiny needle pierced her skin. Dream Catcher held her head firmly, soothing back her hair.
‘It will take time, so try to relax and let the experience unfold, as with those others that will be yours this day.’
The needle continued its journey around the designated area of skin. Abi tried to let her thoughts wander to places she had visited, people she knew, and in a half-dream state, brought herself back through the journey which had led her to this moment and the memories about to be created here. The confusion about Dream Catcher and Shadow and the strange relationship they shared she pushed to the back of her mind.
She almost believed the images to be a part of her dream state when the experience of sub-space left her living in a bubble for some time after. She had taken the image of the cage and the idea of Shadow caught inside as part of sub-fever when she knew that, while in a state of euphoria, thinking can become distorted. And yet still a small niggle remained, which increasingly she tried to ignore, unwilling to have anything spoil her very special day.
Finally Shadow finished, and the handiwork was inspected, approved and admired.
‘Come. We will share a light lunch together while we show you what we have brought.’
It was like Christmas all over again.
Dream Catcher displayed for the first time a cloak the colour of sunrise, together with a black velvet dress with a lace bodice which lifted her breasts high, leaving her nipples bare. It laced all the way down past her waist, hugging and accentuating her figure, displaying the small mark of ownership on the back of her shoulder. She found wearing it meant she could move only the smallest of steps, and in doing so create an illusion of grace and stature, and great sensitivity and strength.
‘Now, take off the clothes. It is only the cloak you will wear for the Ceremony, accompanied by the ornaments in this case. But first we have a surprise.’
As if on cue through the arch stepped two familiar faces, ones she could never have imagined seeing here.
‘I said it would not be long before we met again.’
‘Alex!’
‘Yes, and I’m here to arrange your hair for your big day.’
The two Masters left her to the attentions of the masseur and hairdresser from Hartington Hall. They too admired the tattoo which throbbed gently on her shoulder.
‘I’m going to relax you for what is to come, Princess. And then my good friend Shellie here is going to arrange your hair. So enjoy.’
Two hours passed while Abi was transformed, her hair washed and a volumiser used to encircle her face in a titian halo of colour. Her cheeks glowed. She was refreshed.
‘We must go now, but we’ll see you again in a little while. Promise.’
They took their leave as Shadow and Dream Catcher appeared, dressed in black trousers topped with lace shirts and black waistcoats.
‘Come, it is almost time.’
Shadow collected the still unopened jewellery box, while Dream Catcher wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and one on either side, they escorted her beyond the arch, along the corridor, and down the stairs to the largest of the dungeons she had seen only once before.
But as she stepped through the doorway she saw it with very different eyes. Like crossing the horizon, the large hall was bathed in the soft hazy glow of sunrise. Curtains the colour of burnt amber hung from floor to ceiling around the walls, while a carpet led through the centre to a dais on which stood an imposing figure in black. On either side of him were others dressed in a similar fashion, and creating an aisle in front of them slave girls sat on their heels, adopting the Standard Pose. It was an impressive sight.
Abi stood with Shadow and Dream Catcher at the start of the aisle, looking with interest at the girls who looked up to smile, nodding encouragingly, helping her feel more at ease.
Her stomach was knotted and tense. She trembled beneath her cloak, wishing she’d been allowed to wear the beautiful dress that went with it.
‘Approach the Grand Master and let the Ceremony commence.’
The words were uttered by the man in black. He presented an imposing and formidable figure on the dais, waiting for them. He had a presence that commanded attention. As they drew near Abi couldn’t take her eyes from his as they drew her in, holding her gaze, steady and sure. Then, hastily remembering her training, she fell to her knees, submitting herself before the Grand Master.
A hush immediately fell around the room.
‘We are here today to celebrate the submission of a slave and the taking of that slave by a Master. We recognise that to be a true slave is a Calling, and in welcoming her into our wider family we embrace all that she is, knowing she has found her Destiny and her true heart’s desire, that of being owned by a Master.’
Abi shivered at his feet, knowing his words to be true, certain in the knowledge that this was what she wanted, yet aware of the contradiction of the lifestyle and the confusion of loving and being controlled.
‘Woman, come before me in silence. Make yourself naked. Assume the standard position of rest.’
Abi sat back on her heels, mirroring the slaves in rows on either side. Shadow leaned forward and took the cloak from her. For a moment she felt vulnerable. She wanted to curl up into a ball and assume a womb-like state, away from the eyes on all she had become. But then strengthened by the two men at her side she made her back straight, held her head high, and with eyes lowered, maintained her position, hands resting on her parted knees.
‘Who takes this woman as Property and slave?’
The velvety tones of the Grand Master made Abi want to squirm. She was inextricably aroused by both his manner and his voice. What was the matter with her? Was every man likely to have this desirable affect upon her?
‘We do. Sir Richard and Master Paul, of the House of Arcana.’
The words, strong and true, came from the lips of Shadow and Dream Catcher in unison. They were words which brought comfort in her confusion. Looking at them she could see a measure of their love sparkling in their eyes, and knew they were working together in her best interest. The last of her fears was resolved. How stupid she had been to doubt them! She would not let them down.
‘Woman, have you any reservations about entering into this relationship?’
‘No, Grand Master,’ she answered clearly into the space between them.
‘Woman, do you enter into this relationship fully and of your own free will?’
‘Yes, Grand Master, I do.’
Turning to Shadow and Dream Catcher, the same was asked of them.
‘Masters, do you have any reservations about entering into this relationship?’
Together they replied. ‘We do not.’
‘Masters, do you accept the petition of this woman to be your slave of your own free will?’
‘We so do.’
‘Masters, have you brought symbols of your ownership, the collar of submission, the leash of control?’
‘We do.’
‘Turn, woman, to face your Masters.’
Dream Catcher and Shadow moved to one side while her knees shifted around to face them, still with head high, eyes lowered.
‘Masters, you may present your symbols to your slave-to-be.’
The two men took it in turns to stand in front of Abi.
‘I, Sir Richard Armstrong, take thee, Pandora, to be my slave and my Property. I shall love, honour, protect, nurture, discipline and cherish you as my slave.’
The use of her slave name was deliberate so that the gathering might not be able to identify her in the outside world. That knowledge was reserved for her Masters.
Shadow repeated the same words as Richard, placing his own name in the place of the Master.
The commanding and yet oh so velvet voice of the Grand Master addressed Abi. ‘Slave, stand and receive your symbols of ownership.’
She immediately stood, ensuring her legs were well apart, facing her Masters now standing side by side, crossing her wrists behind her back with eyes lowered, body still. She then repeated the words the Grand Master was bidding her speak.
‘I, Pandora, take thee Sir Richard and Master Paul to be my Masters and Owners. I shall love, honour, obey and be the property of my Masters until death do us part or until my Master and owner sells or gives me as property to another.’
It was Dream Catcher who leaned forward to encircle her throat with a locket of the finest silver. ‘Slave, with this necklace of ownership we take possession of you and command that you never remove it so long as we are your owners. With this necklace we pledge our vows as your Masters.’
Shadow then fastened an ornate leather collar around her throat, showing the same symbol as the tattoo on her shoulder, and inserted a leash which hung down before her. ‘Slave, with this collar we command your submission and with this leash we impose our control on you.’
Then making the hand signal, with an index finger and thumb encircling his wrist, he placed on her outstretched wrists the golden fur-lined cuffs with the symbol of the flame.
The Grand Master watched the slave girl known as Pandora closely, caught by the charisma of the figure before him. She possessed a strange, almost mystical aura, presenting someone he would very much like to get better acquainted with and to understand more. Then, speaking in the same clear tones, he assigned her the slave name already decided by her Masters.
‘Slave, from this day forth you will be known as Angel, slave to Sir Richard and Master Paul of the House of Arcana. As slave you have been marked by a flame tattooed on your back, which is also the symbol displayed on your locket and collar. This symbol represents your character, your journey, your Calling. Wear it with pride, for it is symbolic of you and everything you are as slave,’ he instructed. ‘Slave, is there anything you would say to your Masters in response to what they have given? You may speak and address your Masters directly.’
Abi’s words were spontaneous and heartfelt. ‘Masters, I thank you for accepting my submission. I will serve you well.’
She dropped immediately to her knees, legs wide, arms outstretched, and placing her forehead to the floor offered herself in total service to them.
The Grand Master was impressed by this impulsive gesture and the humble way in which she submitted. He nodded at both Masters, acknowledging that they indeed had someone very special. Then, addressing the wider audience for only the second time in the proceedings, he indicated the Ceremony was complete.
‘Masters and slave will now accompany me to the antechamber, where we will complete the Contract of Submission. The rest of the Gathering may help themselves to food and drink as appropriate. We will re-join you later.’
Abi was amazed at how some slaves were able to help themselves to food of their choice, while others remained kneeling, unable to partake because of special diets to which they were restricted. There were slaves who took food to their Masters, and those who sat together in groups, participating more in the art of conversation than eating.
Oh how she longed to join them, to share their experiences, to know what life was like for them. But she followed in the footsteps of her Master to a chamber off the main hall.
‘As a new slave you are under an instruction of silence. You cannot fraternise with the slaves during their stay, and will speak only when allowed by a Master.’
The Grand Master sensed her longing, and caught between the desire to make an excuse for a punishment or to explain the proper protocol to her, he regretfully chose the latter.
‘Slave, you will listen carefully to the words I have here before me, and which constitute the Contract between yourself and your Masters. Then before signing you may discuss any issues with me and we will talk about them further.’
It took a while, in truth it took a very long time. The Contract went on at great length. There was so much to be included to cover every eventuality, and yet the more she heard the more she realised just how well her Masters had come to know and love her. She learned that her safeword was ‘flame’.
The safeword was to be used whenever she felt play had reached an intolerable level and she needed it to stop, but she knew then that she would never use it. What was the point when she had given herself so completely, trusting them to the ultimate level of giving?
The Contract also illustrated a process of learning together, development of self, maintaining a positive self-image and development of goals. It would mean for the future that she was committing herself to absolute openness, honesty and respect, to reveal her thoughts and feelings without shame or embarrassment. Everything that would take place for the future would be consensual, and in keeping with the enhancement of body, mind and spirit, accepting her as a complete and whole person, growing together in friendship, trust and love.
She heard the words and knew they resonated in a place deep within her heart. To have such love, to be accepted and owned in such a complete way made rivers of tears flow down her cheeks. She had to ask Grand Master to speak again the words he had just spoken. Gentler now, he asked her, ‘Are you happy with the arrangements made for you and the terms of your submission as written here? There are other words which do not concern you...’
He looked at Dream Catcher and then Shadow, before continuing. ‘But these are things I need to speak with your Masters about and which concern the future.’
‘Grand Master, it will make me very happy to sign, to give my life in this way to them. I trust them both.’
‘Then, let it be so.’
She was presented with a pen, and signed her name before the two Masters added theirs.
‘So come, let us join the festivities. But remember, Angel, as slave you are forbidden to fraternise in any way with the others, on pain of punishment.’
The Grand Master watched her obediently follow his instruction, entering again the main Dungeon Hall where the sounds of music and merriment showed the party was in full swing. Then he turned to speak privately with her Masters.
The Grand Master could not take his eyes from the woman with the body of a temptress, the innocence of a child, the submissiveness of a slave. She took an obvious pleasure in pleasing. Like other slaves she cast her eyes to the floor, and obeyed a Master’s wishes. But there was so much more in the way she displayed an inner depth and a quality so rare he found it hard to put into words. He suspected she was also talented, with a high degree of intelligence and a Phd in Life. New to the lifestyle she was already obedient and had been taught well. She moved with a confidence and strength that came from deep within which took nothing away from her servitude. Given time and the right environment he could discover if, in body, mind and spirit, she was all that she appeared to be.
Aware people were restless he clapped his hands twice, and bade curtains around the walls be opened to reveal the secret pleasures beyond. Listening to the gasps and cries of the Masters and slaves as they coupled off to familiarise intimately with the equipment, he had only eyes for Angel.
Her eyes were wide as she took in the hooks across the beams, the bars and black crosses, a platform held high against the ceiling, chains and instruments of torture hanging in neat rows, and she recognised the cage. Vaguely she wondered where the camera was and if this was being recorded.
Slaves were strapped in place to all manner of holds, some blindfolded, some gagged, others hooded. Yet all of them obviously enjoyed the experience of being pleasured by their Masters. Amidst the soft lights and music moans and squeals filled the air as whips came into contact with butts, crops made their mark, and senses were heightened, feelings brought to the fore.
‘So let me inspect the new slave. Angel, up on the couch and assume the position.’ Grand Master broke her reverie, widening her eyes at the idea of his hands touching her bare flesh and revealing herself to him. But she obeyed; she didn’t dare do otherwise.
Dream Catcher and Shadow stood to one side as she knelt on the black leather, reaching back to hold the cheeks of her bottom apart before bending her head low.
‘Has she felt the whip or the keenness of the switch?’
Her body tensed at the voice of the Grand Master, remembering the switch she had prepared. It was odd how she had found it in the room where Dream Catcher took her. No further mention of it had been made until now, but then that whole episode was all a bit of a blur. Hands touched and held, running softly across her body, squeezing her waist, her thighs. Immediately she was aroused; he knew it from the shivered excitement that betrayed her, and the wetness of her sex.
‘Already... look, see? We must not disappoint, for she is obviously crying out with need.’
A chain was fed through links on her cuffs, holding them together, attached to a point on the couch. As she tried to raise her head it was pushed down and held, the loop in her collar hooked in place. Other hands cupped her bottom, squeezing and massaging and manipulating, and one finger, then two penetrated her anus.
She couldn’t stop her gasps, mingling with echoes which came from the room beyond. She craved the pleasure, she wanted the pain, and understanding that need, Grand Master started a measured spanking before increasing the severity and upping the pace. A paddle took the place of his palm, followed by a crop, then a whip. Eventually she saw an arm extend to reach for the switch which appeared as if by magic, leaning against the wall. From the corner of her eye she caught the strangest look which passed between Dream Catcher and Shadow, and when Shadow bent his head to gaze at a spot on the floor it made her wonder. But now wasn’t the time for thought.
This was a new experience. She knew she was being tested. Grand Master wanted to see how soon she would use her safeword, and therefore how much trust she was willing to give. At what point might she take back control? Was that the true test of a slave? And in those moments before it began she knew no matter what, she would hold back the word that would stop everything in a moment. Courage didn’t come without fear. Courage meant fear was there, but still you did it anyway.
And so, despite the pain, the beatings, the dread of how much more might come and the amount she could take, she held back the word, curiously aroused and open and pliable, testing her own limits of endurance, and then shouting, screaming, exhilarated and excited and deeply aroused, for the release and for someone to take her and accept all she had to give.
But it didn’t come!
Caught in the throes of passion, in a place between need and fulfilment, he held her right there, on the very edge while she sought the permission he was not willing to give.
Suddenly all hands released their hold. She lay gasping, breathless... abandoned? She felt a wave of resentment rise up in her. She had given herself fully, freely; surely it was not too much to ask that they respond to her need?
The voice of Grand Master was soft yet stern. ‘Be very careful, slave. Hold yourself. Your time will come.’
Despite the implied threat the words soothed, comforted and strengthened her resolve so that she was able, in spite of her highly aroused state, to relax and simply let her feelings go. Like leaves carried on the wind they left her feeling naked, aching and eager for more.
The bonds that held were released. The Grand Master clapped his hands. Automatically she assumed the Inspect position, sitting up on her knees, arching her back, hands behind her head.
‘Very good. Very good indeed.’ She welcomed the praise, taking pleasure from that moment, taking it to heart as a child being told by a father she had done well.
He knew. It was so easy to please, to bring joy to the dark brown pools that gazed up at him. They drew him, wondering at their sadness, the hurt mingled with joy as she offered herself openly to him. He moved behind her, bending her first this way then that, reaching down to her waist, holding her tummy while feeling down her flanks, parting her legs wide, then taking her arms and securing them behind her back.
‘Hold her head firmly.’
Dream Catcher stepped quickly to her, but Shadow got there first. She wondered fleetingly what the meaning of the expression was on Dream Catcher’s face as Shadow made that move, but then Shadow was pulling her head to his chest, holding it there while other hands moulded her breasts, pinching and twisting her nipples.
‘Ah, what have we here? An inverted nipple? It seems you’ve used clamps without affect.’ He focused on her left nipple, arousing and coaxing while her body showed the obvious reactions his activities had on her. ‘It seems this is the nipple which arouses and offers most pleasure. You may like to think for the future about having it pierced, so it cannot hide.’
Abi squirmed at his words and made noises of protest.
‘She has fire and spirit, this one, and that is good. But slave, again, be very careful, for if so desired then punishment will come.’ She trembled at the sudden menace in his voice, and he knew at once his message had struck home.
Fingers teased apart the lips of her sex, sensuously rubbing her clit, inching in to explore before thrusting deep. Immediately her body was on fire. Bursts of tingling sensations made her writhe, and once again she was taken to the edge of an orgasm as the rhythm drove her crazy with need.
But again she was denied. Again he withdrew.
Desperately her body continued to dance to an unchained melody which clambered to be heard, sending her emotions spiralling on an ever increasing journey, her cunt seeping juices, wetting the couch.
‘She is sensuous, passionate, filled with an unmet desire. Taken to the limits there is no doubt she can be made to cum... cum... and cum again, and even then have plenty left to give.’
Grand Master had replaced Shadow at her head. One hand cupped her chin, the other ran fingers lightly down her throat, all the while those eyes mesmerising her own.
‘Can she deep throat?’ He threw the question out and the air caught his words, befuddling the letters, passing them through her consciousness without truly entering. Her head was a mass of emotions with no room for thought.
The men talked to one another quietly, their words passing through her as if she were a wraith. One hand continued to hold her jaw, the other reached for something for her mouth. She could not turn, could not see, unable to release her eyes from the hypnotic power he had over her. But as that something was pressed hard and unyielding into her mouth she gasped and jerked away in protest, frantically struggling to be free. Immediately he released her, sensing fear, deciding to err on the side of caution and not punish, to let it go... for now.
Relieved, she tried to sit still and quiet on the couch despite her high state of arousal, aware of eyes watching her, focusing on that feeling of fear, pushing it back into the black box from whence it came. In doing so she was totally unaware of the small yet significant signals she was giving off to the man experienced in all aspects of control, domination, pain... body, spirit, mind.
‘Angel, rise and follow me. It is time we got better acquainted.’
With a shake of a hand and a nod her Masters were dismissed. She pleaded with her eyes for them not to go, and the Grand Master noted well her deep affection for them as he led her to an antechamber away from the main Hall, laid out in the same rich sunrise gold, complete with a four-poster bed. Devoid of blankets and bedding its sole covering was a lemon satin wrap which hung down on all sides.
‘We will have tea, and we can talk. You will share with me your fears and fantasies, your most intimate thoughts and dreams.’
He faced her full on, watching her body language, the clear signals displayed, the emotion etched across the lines of her face, the wonder and confusion in her eyes. He knew the dilemma she faced; wanting to control the demons within, yet at the same time needing to be obedient to a Master.
Within this Chamber there was no sound of the party outside. The heavy folds of curtain subdued them completely, creating a secret cavern, a womb-like existence all their own. He hoped, with the right stimulus, it might prove a safe environment in which to share.
‘Sit on the stool at the foot of the bed, and drink your tea before it grows cold.’
The stool was long and cushioned. Gingerly Abi sat down. She couldn’t see her deeply patterned bottom, but she could feel it well enough. And it hurt like crazy! She took the hot mug of liquid handed to her, grateful for the tea, milky and sweet, which revived her spirits, allowing her time to formulate in her mind what to say. But when the empty mug was taken from her and the Grand Master started to disrobe she knew it wasn’t just talking he was after, but more, much more.
Drawing up a winged chair in front of her, his knees touching her own, he clasped her hands in his, holding her gaze before opening his mouth to speak. ‘How long have you had fantasies and thoughts about being submissive?’
She looked away, confused. The question caught her unawares. She wasn’t sure how to answer, in awe of this seemingly great man sitting naked before her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
‘Look at me, now. Don’t look away again or you will be punished.’ His words were sharp, firm, pulling her back to his gaze. ‘Now,’ he continued in a gentler tone, ‘share with me openly. Hide nothing. Tell me when you first remember having fantasies and thoughts about being submissive.’
Abi told him, hesitantly at first, about past abuse, controlling relationships, confusion, pain, and the gradual realisation that pain and pleasure were an intrinsic part of her fantasies, never understanding for one instant that this could happen in real life, that she might actually seek to live them for real.
He listened attentively, never moving, his eyes fixed on hers. He didn’t speak until he was sure she had finished.
‘Now describe to me as vividly as you can exactly what turns you on and turns you off, both in fantasy and for real.’
She was relaxed now, calmer, her manner more assured. Her speech became more fluent as trust deepened between them. His response to her sharing made it easy for her to share.
‘And what do you feel makes you a slave? What do you have to offer in service?’
That was easy. There was so much in her life experience which led to this moment. As a giver, a carer, a homemaker, others’ needs had always come first. It was dealing with her own life she found difficult, and without a degree of control she always found herself somehow on the point of pain at the hands of someone else, with no regard to her feelings or the kind of woman she was.
Questions kept coming. It was a cathartic experience, opening the window to her soul. He seemed to understand and had the ability to reach in and feel her pain, making it his own.
‘What are the most erotic parts of your body? What do you feel are your limits? What do you fear most to have happen in a session? Tell me your sexual history from as far back as you can remember.’
His questions were rapid, on the back of her responses to him, and in part she lost her fear, answering honestly and openly, feeling his compassion and his genuine interest in her need. She even shared about the scars crisscrossing her stomach, injuries sustained at another’s hand where control mingled with abuse. Curious, he fingered them, watching her as he did to see what her response might be.
And he left her a few questions to consider long after the interview was at an end. ‘What is the difference between a submissive and a slave, and under which title do you feel you belong? Is submission a weakness or strength?’
Strange how she’d never considered either of them before. It hadn’t seemed important. Were they important now? She was taken. She had given herself to Dream Catcher and Shadow, but she gave them no further thought, storing them in a corner of her mind.
He sat back in his chair. She was emotionally drained. But then, that was the idea. As he watched her mind clear of thought and her eyes become restful, he stood and walked to a chest at one side of the room.
‘Thank you for sharing with me, slave. You have done well. Now we will put some of the things we have talked about into practice, experience the affects. I want you to adopt the mindset of slave. That is about focusing on my instruction, holding your position, and being led only by the emotion with all thought banished from your head. Together we will experience and learn the way it is for you. Lie face up on the bed, feet at the top, head over the bottom touching the stool.’
Grand Master turned away, delving in the chest while Abi assumed the position, and as he moved to her side he found himself admiring just how special she was, looking at ways to enhance, develop and raise her to a higher Calling where her qualities could be best valued. He wished he had more time.
In silence he bound her wrists tight to the bedposts. Her head hung back so she was unable to see where he might go, what he would do first. But instead of tensing with fear she welcomed his embrace, yearning to feel those velvet-soft hands build a liquid sensation inside her and to be brought by him over the edge of desire to experience the orgiastic fullness of a climax, and then perhaps beyond into that place always she yearned to go... sub-space.
These were the hands that now parted her legs, fingers playing with emotion at the entrance to the cave. Fingers teased apart the shaven lips of her labia, feeling, rubbing, manipulating, causing a wild cascade of sensations to grip her body and make her squirm. He rubbed the upper part of the lips while inserting fingers deep inside her cave. She welcomed them with juices as they moved inside her. She was moaning, nearer, ever nearer that place she longed to be, arching her back for more. He inserted in place of his fingers a couple of vibrating eggs, turned to their maximum force.
‘Remember, slave, you won’t cum until given permission to do so, on pain of punishment.’
His words were distant but she heeded them well, not wanting to risk a further beating. He spent time probing, touching, teasing. Then he moved to her tummy, holding her thighs as she reached towards him from the bed, inviting, seductive, enticing him to share.
He loomed above her, where she could see his hands holding her breasts. He sucked a nipple, gently biting with his teeth, persuading it to stand to attention before clamping it hard. Her moans changed to a gasp as he repeated the process with the left inverted nipple, using a humming instrument to hold the shy one out before it was clamped in the same way as the first. Then sitting to one side he stroked her hair, holding her head firmly, kissing her passionately. The vibrating eggs were driving her crazy with need. She writhed, fighting a losing battle with the scale of sensations driving her to the edge, and beyond.
He straightened, standing over her, running his penis around the lips of her mouth. It was long and hard. She wanted to push it away, to hold back, to take control, but as she struggled ropes knotted in a certain way only grew tighter. No matter how hard she struggled she remained vulnerable, open, able to offer only the smallest of cries of protest.
‘This is difficult for you, I know, but let’s see if we can overcome a major fear together and help you through. This is about trust, obedience, giving all power to me and letting me take control. Can you do this now, for me?’
She gulped back tears of confusion, choking, gagging at the thought of having something so large in her mouth and throat without any ability to stop it, and he saw her trepidation.
‘Trust, obedience, submission; these are what you have committed yourself to, giving openly and freely, the essence of what this lifestyle is about.’
He walked away from her, and suddenly she was more afraid of rejection, of not being able to please, of not feeling the delight of his hands, his fingers, his body on and in hers... his seed in her mouth.
‘Please, I can do this. I can...’ she hesitated a moment, ‘...but only with your help. I trust you, Master, to work with me through this. Please?’
In truth he’d walked away to collect a ring gag, which he proceeded to place behind her teeth, forming her mouth into a vulnerable ‘O’. Then again the cock came at her, slowly, surely, gently moistening her lips with pre-cum... demanding a way in. The foreskin rolled back and the plum of the helmet pressed inside; in and out... setting up a rhythm... not forcing... a pace he judged would be right for her.
He was a Grand Master, an authority, someone other Masters respected and looked up to, and he had learned the value of patience, of tolerance, of understanding and compassion. He had gained through the years a tremendous wealth of experience, shared and otherwise; knowledge and wisdom born of mistakes, knowing in the beginning especially he had let down people who were counting on him.
He was not someone above listening, supporting, learning, walking alongside those who had the gift of giving. In no way would he risk frightening this gentlest of maidens away. She’d been hurt badly in the past. This was not uncommon amongst slaves, given the submissiveness of their nature and ways in which that was mistreated and abused. Gentle handling was the key to unlocking her secret pleasure-pain need. In the right environment it was possible to make her strong, the kind of strength born of a freedom within. He suspected that, alongside this strength, it was possible she could inspire others, and together they might prove a formidable team.
Quiet now, she beseeched him with her eyes to be gentle, to let her come to no harm. He reached a sudden decision and changed tack, letting her go, removing the ring gag from her mouth, the intricate binding of rope around her wrists, and the eggs within. He knelt between her thighs, bound her legs around his waist, and holding her waist firmly, sank his erection into her.
A guttural squeal escaped from her throat. She sobbed in ecstasy and squirmed against him, willing him deeper and deeper, needing the release only he could give.
‘Come then, slave, let me give you my seed so we might be bound as one for this brief moment in time.’
She came then, juices flowing, mingling with his sperm, but instead of release she found her need growing greater, still urging her on, knowing no bounds. Totally out of control, unable to stem the tide of emotion that threw her against him she begged for more, and more, and again she came, her body arched, her hips raised, her nipples standing erect and proud.
He turned her onto her front, pushing her knees up, taking her from behind, slowly at first, feeling his way into her, and then drove his cock deep inside. Again he ejaculated, knowing she was cumming too, and finally she was spent.
Sometime later he bathed her, rubbing Witch Hazel into the cheeks of her bottom and oils to her back and front, massaging, easing the tension the storm of emotions had left in their wake. And then with soothing, encouraging words, he led her back to the main hall.
Music was playing softly. Bodies lay strewn as if a far greater battle had been fought here. Masters sat watchful over their slaves, but with the entrance of Grand Master they became alert as he led the newbie back into their midst, nudging their girls until they sat up on their knees, awaiting the final order of the day.
Abi recognised Alex, smiling at her, together with the hairdresser Shellie, both in various stages of undress. While Dream Catcher and Shadow stood to one side, a part of the proceedings yet apart from them, ready to administer to her needs, aware at this stage that their responsibilities and commitment to her were just about to begin in a way they never had before.
The Grand Master used a pulley to lower the platform which hung close to the ceiling. He bid her lie on her front, while he pulled her legs and arms and tied them to the four corners as if she were a large ‘X’. And as he used the pulley she realised with a sense of shock the centre of the platform had pulled away, and she was being raised from the floor attached only to the surround. And as she hung there, arms and legs outstretched, Grand Master presented her fully to the Masters and slaves at the Gathering.
‘It is my great pleasure to present, finally, our new slave Angel, whom we welcome as a part of our extended family. Make yourselves known to her. Treat her well.’
As he finished speaking, while she was still adjusting to this new and threatening position, without warning he covered her eyes, plugged her ears, and hooded her so that her world became silent and still. It was a strange feeling, hanging, and it came to her suddenly that she was flying, above and beyond, reaching across the horizon to a place where fantasy and reality fuse and everything is One.
Hands touched, fingers caressed. It was not an unpleasant sensation. Gradually her feelings aroused and heightened until she no longer had control over her body or her emotions. She relaxed into the experience, let go, and simply let it be.
At some point she drifted off somewhere in sub-space where she floated; no thoughts, no pain, no pleasure experience, just a gentle sway which took her and held her, suspended in time, unsure if it were night or day. And she didn’t really care.
In time she lost track of who she was, who she had been. Thoughts burst like bubbles in her head, allowing only raw, aching, throbbing emotion to seep in and through her, reaching and fulfilling that aching need deep down inside her soul.
Much later it was Dream Catcher and Shadow who took her down, caressing her gently, and carried her between them to her Chamber. They lay beside her on the bed, cradling her to them, cuddling close so that when she woke she would know them and feel reassured that they were there for her; for always, finally living the dream, committing themselves to her in controlling love.
Finally she was at that place where she had always yearned to be; free to be the person she had always wanted to be, held lovingly in the hands of her true Masters.
And in a room not so far away Grand Master knew he wanted her for his own.
A whirl of activity followed in the aftermath of the Ceremony. Dream Catcher’s time was taken up with preparing for his trip to the mainland. He talked on the telephone for hours at a time, behind closed doors, restricting access to information. And when he did emerge from his study it was to spend time with Pandora or with Grand Master and his other guests.
Grand Master and a couple of others had stayed on. It seemed they were to help Richard with a helicopter trip from the island to the mainland on their way back. They were just waiting until Richard was ready and preparations done. But that only doubled his work, Shadow grumbled to himself irritably. He’d been asking Richard for some time to bring staff in for special occasions, but his suggestion had fallen on deaf ears. Now Richard had admonished him about being careless with everyday tasks, which meant he was overloaded with jobs and still more besides.
It hadn’t been this way in all the years of their relationship, and Shadow didn’t understand what was happening now. He’d become a pressure cooker ready to explode, resentment was growing, and it even alarmed him at just how malicious he felt towards the man he had been proud to call his colleague and friend.
He also had an unnerving suspicion he was being ousted. Nothing had been said directly, but everything about Richard’s manner reinforced this fear, and his instincts had rarely been wrong.
This was his home, or at least it had been for a good many years. They had enjoyed a lavish lifestyle together, had a plethora of friends both home and abroad, and then Richard had brought their long-held dream into reality by bringing Pandora to the island. But it was he who had moulded and shaped and taught her what she knew, and now the man he had thought of as his friend was about to snatch it all away.
He had already been instructed that, in Richard’s absence, he was expected to look after Pandora but to leave her alone. These were his express instructions, told him in a stern and forthright manner. It wasn’t something which could be negotiated. The good times were over, that was for sure. Was he really expected to leave and to create a life elsewhere?
He was being abandoned, rejected, dumped, a tool that had outgrown its usefulness, and it simply wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t going to happen and he wasn’t going to being treated this way. He had to find a way to take control, and he was running out of time.
He’d been in a similar position before, years ago, when his wife Sheila was threatening to disclose his activities. It was she and Beth who had first wanted to explore their darker fantasies, but even so she knew, from the first night they’d slept together, she knew the way he was when she unexpectedly discovered his secret. Caught in the throes of sexual torment he had spanked her bottom. She appeared to enjoy it, and later, when he used a paddle on her, much to his delight she orgasmed. And then when he pressed a crop into her hand, urgently needing to feel the same, it both shocked and excited her. They led a kinky lifestyle which became more and more outlandish. She’d been willing to experiment, to be led. They had involved Richard and Beth in visits to country playhouses, and only later did she rebel. Perhaps she had reached her own limits and felt intimidated. Perhaps she was frightened because his needs were growing, becoming more and more bizarre, pushing the barriers, wanting to experience beyond.
Whatever the reason, it all reached a head one evening. He had heard about knife and needle play. The idea of it excited him, especially as he could fantasise about it during his work as a surgeon. But Sheila freaked at the suggestion, especially as he suggested it when she was restrained and hooded. She had used the safeword, and following an evening of frustration she blurted out that she would go public if he didn’t back off. It began to go downhill from that point on. It was never the same between them.
He knew she had gone to see Beth. He didn’t know why they were in the car together, but did he care? How fortunate then that she had met the drunken driver whilst driving at speed, and later he’d been able to tell Richard that they were going to view another country playhouse with a newly constructed dungeon.
He laughed at the sheer madness of it all.
Already a plan was forming, spurred on by the rapid turn of events. He’d always been at his best under pressure. Richard was moving ahead at speed, and seemed willing to cut him out of his life altogether. So be it! He was asking for what would follow. He had only himself to blame.
It was a Thursday morning when finally Richard and his guests took their baggage to the helicopter. He’d allowed Pandora to see him off, and together with Shadow she stood like a fragile leaf caught in a storm. Tears meandered down her cheeks. Her hands were clenched into balls at her side, and she was shaking. It was easy to see the rapport between them, but then again, over past few days she had also spent time with Grand Master. And he too, it seemed, had his own agenda. Even Richard was taken off guard when he saw the way he held her, whispering into her ear. He had been too busy to notice the number of hours they’d spent cosseted in her rooms, and the keen interest Grand Master had taken in her since the Ceremony.
‘How long will he be gone?’ The words fell between sobs from her lips as she stood beside Shadow. He smiled knowingly.
‘Oh, Dream Catcher has much more pressing matters to think about than you and I. He has a lot on his mind right now. He’ll be away awhile.’
A fresh outburst of crying was drowned by the noise of the helicopter rising from the ground. He placed an arm around her shoulders to appease both Grand Master and Dream Catcher, who were watching them from the hovering aircraft, but inwardly he knew his feelings even towards her had changed. Events had made it so. It surprised him how, in such a short time, everything had turned topsy-turvy. Not so long ago he had felt on top of the world.
‘Go and amuse yourself in your rooms. I have things to do.’
With those few words he left her, knowing she was disappointed, needing him for comfort and strength. She would feel the absence of Dream Catcher keenly. She would crave company he just couldn’t give. He didn’t want to, at least not yet awhile. His urge would rise eventually, aching to be satisfied, and then he was going to have some fun.
It hung on a whisper.
Eyes tight shut; hoping, needing, aching, craving, but not knowing! That is what held her. It focused both her body and her mind.
The blackness excited, aroused, strengthened, but then scared her, clearing all patterns of thought, concentrating only on what might be, what might come, and from where...
Pain, pleasure, or pleasure, pain; she didn’t know what to expect first or what might follow after. And despite her reservations something held her, like the graphic details in a book which tore the heart and repulsed and sickened in the reading of it, yet at the same time gripped and held the imagination, baiting, making the reader squirm and yet hold right on in there until the bitter end.
When finally it came the attack was so violent, so savage it shocked her beyond reason, gripping tight her senses, leaving them reeling, completely overwhelmed. Yet in truth she was aroused beyond measure, excited far beyond any point in her life.
And that worried her deeply.
At first he stroked, caressed, fondled, kissed. It made her cry with the sheer gentleness and softness of his touch. She was being lulled into a false sense of security and, snuggling in, she laid her head on his shoulder feeling protected, warm, seeking that place of solace and peace in his embrace. He’d handled her with care, knowing she was special, needing to feel wanted, loved, missing Richard so very much. She was so vulnerable, so needy, so hurt. She didn’t really know what she wanted at all. Yet hidden deep within the surface in a place she didn’t yet know, there was a very real part of her that sought pain, and with it the release that came after.
And he knew. He knew by the way she reacted. He pulled and twisted, squeezing nipples hard. She didn’t pull away or scream or try to stop his advances. She didn’t slap him or brazenly argue the toss as another might have done, for she accepted she had no choice. Her back arched, her neck stretched taut, her body accepting and so open... there for the taking.
A moan slipped from her lips, caught somewhere in the space between them. Eyes closed, lips parted, and like floodgates opening, her legs automatically separated to receive him. He couldn’t disappoint. Not now. Not for one so willing. She was almost leading him on, almost taking control. It was her need. Always it was her stupid aching pathetic need that led her into such a situation as this, leaving her vulnerable, totally unable to say ‘no’, to stop it even had she wanted to.
Did that make submission a weakness? Or was it a strength; a strength because she was able to give so completely where others held back, keeping a part of themselves secret?
In some remote part of her she remembered the question posed by Grand Master. But whatever the answer the need betrayed her, it was always the way, leaving her begging, aching for him to take her, for her to be saved from herself.
He plunged one, two, three fingers into the juices flowing from her cunt. So wet, so achingly needy. Her clit was already swollen, the pulse pumped against his hand; take me... take me... take me it sang, in words that had become their song.
Her body was speaking to him. They both knew it. He had her right there in the palm of his hand. She was his. He could do whatever he pleased. She would obey without question.
But then suddenly he withdrew. She recoiled, hurt by his rejection, stunned and confused he wasn’t going to take things further. He could read her mind so well. Her thoughts crisscrossed like balls of different coloured wools. Wasn’t she good enough? Was there something wrong... with her, not with him? Why was he pulling away? Why did he not take what she was offering, that which already belonged to him?
A silent scream trembled its way to the surface. Her body was shaking, out of control. She wanted so desperately to be held, to be special, to feel woman, to be loved, just to know she could be loved for who and what she was.
Unwilling to break the connection, believing somehow she was reading the message wrong, she again laid her head trustingly on his shoulder. She sneaked a hand down his trousers to explore the bulge, unzipping, clasping, holding firm, pumping up and down, up and down, her head moving, mouth open, tongue reaching to lick the tip of his cock, to slide it willingly into her... accepting... wanting... needing to give... to please...
He cut her off mid-flow. She tried to regain access but he zipped it away, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back to his shoulder. Again that lost look of an abandoned child needing desperately to be nurtured, shaped, moulded - to be taken in love. She deserved so much better, better than he could give, and yet...
She didn’t know. She didn’t understand. A part of her past was in her now. She’d brought it with her; the pain alongside the pleasure she craved so much. Pain was also a vital part of her need. Someone such as he offered the right combination. He could use it wisely and well. He knew her better than she did herself. He understood. He had the experience also, the same awful abusive past, and because he knew and understood and shared the experience he could take and make her rise, like a beautiful phoenix from the ashes of that past, teaching her how to let go, to be free, to become reborn. Richard couldn’t do that for her. Only he had the wisdom of years, because it was something he had to do for himself; to learn to take control. Some people called him a bastard. Others knew him as a switch. He understood it as surviving, clawing back what had been taken from him.
He left her then and her thoughts played havoc, teasing, taunting, just as he hoped they would. Sometimes the abstinence of action was far better than anything he could do himself.
He returned in the early hours of the morning and her mood was very different. Now she was a blank canvas waiting to be spread with a vibrant blend of colours to bring out the sensuous emotions caught in the tangled web of her mind.
Hands on her neck he pulled her to him, kissing her on that place which spiralled tingles down her spine. Her full red lips parted, opened, widened, gasping at the pleasure just that small act always brought. He penetrated with his tongue, clutching handfuls of hair to drag her head back, holding her against him. She was pliable, writhing, aching with need; the kind of need which went too deep for self-pleasure, needing another to coax it, drawing it from that place where it had lain hidden for too long... out of reach, out of touch... waiting on the one who knew.
He lashed her wrists behind her, not sparing the ropes or caring about the cruelty he inflicted, knowing they bit deep. Her shoulders strained, neck craned, pushing out her breasts to a position where even the shy one could not hide. He lingered, knowing she would not stop him, pinching, twisting, hurting each nipple between forefinger and thumb.
Using vac cups he tied her breasts so they became bulbous. Quickly they reddened, becoming hard as the blood was partially constricted. They didn’t look pretty any more, but hell, were they a turn on! His cock was like rock; throbbing, needing, aching to feel the warm soft willing wetness of her cunt. It added to the growing excitement, giving it an edge. It was time for something different.
Pushing her roughly to her knees in front of him, knowing she could not help herself because of the ropes that bound, he again dragged back her head, pulling by the hair, forcing her lips apart and pushing his cock directly into her mouth. He fucked her back and forth... back and forth... back and forth. He had no mercy. This was going to be hard and fast, and yet not so fast that he couldn’t pleasure himself along the way.
Predictably she gagged. Suddenly she was trying to pull away, uncertain as pictures of another place, another time, another man seared her memory with his red hot poker... hurting, jarring, clashing with the present and the man who held her now.
Her eyes closed, squeezing tears between the lids. They were silent tears. Her pain was her own, which she would not, could not share.
He knew it would come, and he was ready. They had talked and shared too often for him not to know. He knew her past as well as he knew his own. She had given herself to him in total trust for just this reason; to take and own control over the past as well as the present, and to finally let it go, to expunge what had been.
He was doing this now for her as well as for himself. This after all was the role he played in her life. She was his responsibility and it was his duty to see her right, to take care of his charge. The sub in him was working together with the sadist. They took it in turns, and right now it was the sub in him that was in tune with her sub, remembering the way it was, knowing the way it would be.
He watched the war going on inside her head as her thoughts caught between past and present, like a pendulum, ticking the years back and forth, back and forth, unable to decide where to draw breath or to finally find rest. She was clawing against him, her body held taut by the unforgiving ropes, while from her mouth came mewing noises like a kitten frightened and lost, seeking comfort and strength from a parent.
Completely ignoring her distress as the distraction it had become, he made her take the totality of his cock all the way into her throat. Her head twisted frantically this way, then that, wrestling with him, frantic to get free of the grip he had on her hair. But her attempts were futile. She should simply give it up and enjoy the experience when it came. But instead she tried another tack, using her tongue to bar passage.
For long moments she held firm while he butted and strained, trying to get his cock past the block and further down her throat. And she knew she couldn’t hold the intruder back for long. They both knew the outcome, and the punishment that had to follow.
His fist became cruel, uncaring, unresponsive, curling her hair around it, drawing her face tight against the very thing she was trying to break away from. His cock was swollen and pulsing and hard. Her face was streaked with tears. Eyes peeked up at him, begging, pleading, willing him to release her, to let her go. But then, this was what she was there for; to learn, to grow, to reach beyond, to finally let go of the past and give it all to him.
In the beginning, when she first arrived at the island, and then again more recently, they had talked about these things, and she had been so willing then to offer herself to him.
‘If I try to stop you at any point, please, don’t let me. Please, even when images from the past haunt me please, keep going. Please do this for me.’ She had begged him and he wasn’t going to let her down. She was depending on him to stay strong.
Slowly she was relaxing into him. There, now that was trust, true trust, the giving of herself to him. She’d known it wouldn’t be easy. She knew he could be hard. It was the reason he’d been chosen by Richard, after all, to be the one to guide and teach her. Trust between them secured a safe passage.
Now he held her there on a whisper, the real fun could begin.
Without warning he pushed her head to the floor, grinding her face in the carpet. The familiar thrill of control surged through his veins like lifeblood. He had a driving urge which filled him, of being able to do what he wanted with her. He was a sadist. That part of him had kicked in. She was but a pawn in his game. Her feelings mattered little, if at all. She was there to serve. That was her Calling, her sole mission in life. She had been taught well. She understood the outcome. They were but opposite ends of the spectrum working as one. He needed her every bit as she needed him. It was the way Master/slave, Dom/sub, submissive/sadist worked. One could not be without the other. This was the symbiotic relationship they shared.
Still with handfuls of hair clumped in his fist he straddled her arse, feeling her buttocks rise high. With hands roped tight behind her back the ropes tightened and bit while her knuckles became white as he fucked her doggy style, for no other reason than he could.
The feeling of power was incredible. He felt Master; strong... invincible. There was nothing like it in the world, having a slave beneath him, riding her for all he was worth, feeling her arse grip around his cock, good and tight. He let go her head and took hold of her buttocks as they writhed in a frenzy, caught up in the heat of the moment. She was enjoying it too. That was only right. Just as long as she remembered he was in control, and it was his decision to take the action where it needed to go, and her along with it.
In a moment of rashness he paused to untie the ropes that bound, allowing her the freedom to move unrestricted. Her gasps of relief were audible, but there was an ulterior motive.
‘Reach around with your hands and tickle my balls.’
For moments she relished the ability to bring back feeling into numbed hands, to relieve tension from her arms, stretching and purring like a cat.
‘Now would be good...’
She had little option but to obey, and as soon as she was positioned he again sank his cock unceremoniously into her arse, grunting with satisfaction as he felt it harden and the anal sphincter grip and take firm hold.
The ripples of pleasure her fingers induced in his balls intensified the sensations, and he clenched her buttocks, riding her to the ultimate climax.
Cum oozed out of the valley between her cheeks, while screams echoed in the silence. For moments he wondered if he had gone too far. Was he causing needless hardship and pain? Was this really what was needed... or then again, perhaps something more? For moments the sub in him kicked in, fusing with her experience, enjoying the sensations it gave. But the sadist in him knew the game was not yet over, and he fiddled in a bag he had brought, placed at the side, not wanting her to sense his confusion. A plan could only go so far. In the end what he did next depended on dynamics and the mood of the moment.
Out of the corner of his eye he watched her body movements, they were what spoke to him, telling him how far to go. Unsteadily she raised herself from the floor, tears spilling down her face, and yet, the moon of her mouth told a different story as it lifted into a smile. The brightness of her eyes spoke of triumph, of sub-fever crying out for more, knowing she could, taking strength from what had been, needing to push the limits, to make it edgy, to go to places she’d never been before.
He debated about blindfolding her... but no. That was still to come. For now she needed to see, to feel, to know, to experience, to understand, and to see the marks made. Later they would be there to remind her of what had been, and the triumph over the past they’d shared together.
He made her kneel on a chair and bound her hands behind her, taking delight in her discomfort and confusion, not knowing what might happen next. Two pert nipples peeked at him, daring him to do what they knew would come. But instead he stood behind her, unexpectedly gentle, caressing, patient. Her head swayed from side to side, forward and then back against him, nestling close. She was confused by his sudden change in manner, but at the same time calmed. She thought it was ending, when in fact it was only beginning again. This was but the lull before the storm, while the sub and sadist in him struggled for control.
Tucking a hand under her chin he lifted her head to gaze into those watery pools, so trusting, so pensive and childlike in their aching need. They spoke of the depth of understanding and reassurance she craved. It was the sub she needed to see in him... for the moment. Somehow he needed to push that other self down.
He held her, surprising himself at his unexpected tenderness. This side of him was good also. The nurturing, encouraging, capable father figure, who fostered devotion and fed need. Sheila hadn’t been able to have children. It was the one thing lacking in their marriage, and probably the reason she worked in the premature baby unit at the hospital. He would have made a good father, he thought, holding and fingering her neck. Her body trembled and he stroked down towards those beautiful breasts.
She lifted her body, neck strained back against him, watching his face, his eyes, begging to give what she craved. He held each nipple taut, lifting breasts off the chair-back, straining them high. Her eyes closed. She melted into him. A smile flickered across her lips, while a quiet moan escaped into the silence. Yes, she was ready; the crop... the flogger... the cane? Or the whip? No, that would be too cruel, especially in the mood he was in.
He teased a while longer, lulling her senses into a false sense of security. There was a pause while he reached back, and then a belt came lashing down across her exposed breasts, in response a sharp intake of breath.
The first stroke.
When the next bit he made certain her head was well out the way. No mistakes. He was too good a marksman for that, too practised and experienced to leave a mark where it did not belong. Already a weal streaked across the upper slopes of his target.
He took his time for others to follow, while her screams shocked the silence and filled the room. It was a delicious sound which excited and delighted, his senses curdling for more. The sadist in him had taken control. It was always the way. Always he had the upper hand and could push that other side of him down.
Just as he pushed her head down, and with a hand gentle then firm, deliberately aimed to confuse, swept down on bare flesh, smoothing, stroking, smacking, then replacing it gradually with the paddle, the flogger, the cane, the whip, building the pressure, all the time watching her body language, judging how much it could take.
He marked her bottom until there was no space left to fill. His aim was deadly accurate, delivered with precision. It was something he prided himself on. He took time to admire his handiwork, the chequered buttocks, thin trails of stinging whip markings slithering through the lines. He was reminded of the snakes and ladders board he’d played with as a child. He’d fix the dice and his friend Al had never caught on. It was their favourite game, and each time he’d taken the journey down a snake there had been a forfeit waiting. Many happy hours he’d lain in bed dreaming up all manner of cunning moves. Al had undressed to carry out the many varied and increasingly perverse ideas of his making.
Now the woman in Pandora had reverted to child and she had the same look as Al; needy, vulnerable, helpless, wanting, hurting. He helped her to the bed, laying her on her back to hold her tight to him, setting free her hands and caressing, stroking, whispering, reassuring; then letting her rest.
It pleased him that he could tease her this way, melting away the hardness with a caring response. But it was dangerous. He needed Woman, not Child. He needed to bring her back, to open her like an abandoned parcel left too long, and release the layers one by one by one.
He blindfolded her. Then with a final reassuring stroke across her forehead, brushing back her hair, he secured her arms to a bedpost. His Japanese rope work was good, given that he’d been taught by a Master. He resented the fact that the Master was Richard, but then many things they’d shared had been good through the years, which made it so unpalatable that it had to end now.
Her legs he lifted, pulling them apart, binding them just so, knowing the more she struggled the tighter they would become. He peeled the lips of her vagina open, then pinched her clit, taking her to the edge of an orgasm. The sensation was not a new one for her, but the next one would be.
He knew her past would kick in as he inserted the glass dildo. He rubbed tantalisingly, pushing it in... pulling it out. Her cunt juices were flowing, her stomach spasming with the orgasm drawing her further and further down. Her deep-rooted need had been there too long. The dildo ejected with a sucking sound, but she was wet enough to take more. He paused for only a moment, before he fisted her through the endless flow of juices, to the cervix beyond, exploring and fingering the small hole leading to that place capable of such intense feeling and pleasure. He settled her writhing by placing a firm hand on her stomach while fist and fingers disappeared well into the cave. Her body shuddered deeply, arms and legs dragged taut. Frantically she yanked at the ropes that bound, while her head rocked back and forth. He could sense the war waging inside her; giving and taking, needing and wanting, yet at the same time not wanting, her senses teased and tantalised and left reeling, unravelling like reels of cotton. All the time she was aching, crying out for more... more... more... until he found a way to reach that depth of emotion still rooted deep inside. It was the big one that would finally release the torment he knew was there, to send her screaming to sub-space and beyond.
New strange sensations savaged past thoughts from her mind, lifting, separating, holding then dropping her suddenly down. Even as she gasped, desperate to draw breath, it took her again, up to a place she had never visited before. This was new. This was different. For moments she was afraid; afraid to simply let go and let be. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t touch, couldn’t feel. All she knew was that moment in time.
It was the pain-pleasure experience which numbed and shocked the system.
Past fused with present, folding and unfolding, teasing, tantalising, gradually peeling away to the raw wounds beneath. She remembered a different time, a different place. She was confused by the memory, the pain... falling... blind, helpless, gasping, gagging, to a deep and dark space within. Memories came together, over which she had no control; jarring, grating, holding, hurting, unwilling to let her go.
Each experience he brought to her now was new, exciting, scary, edgy, leaving her breathless, and yet each time she craved more, yet different, reaching out to explore, to touch, to feel, to know every emotion, and to have every feeling twisted and used in whatever way he pleased. She was giving herself to him.
It was his way. He was mind-fucking; climbing right inside her head. Her body was speaking to him in a language only he understood.
She was still trying to catch her breath when something else followed. She couldn’t see. She didn’t know... pain or pleasure, pleasure or pain? It hung on a whisper. She had no time to wrap reason around it; it was just there, savaging thought from mind, holding for the longest moment...
Strange new sensations flooded her body. She gasped, desperate to draw breath, but he took her again and again; the pain-pleasure experience.
Now he controlled her feelings, knew every emotion as his own. Somewhere along the line they had merged and become One.
He also had her thoughts, twisting, turning, manipulating the way she viewed things until she no longer knew. Coaxing her this way, then that, he was finally trapping her in that place where he wanted her to be. And she was helpless, vulnerable, open, aching, reaching, yearning, craving for more. She had never let go, never been so completely open, giving control to another of her own free will, never felt so carried away by the rawness of emotion that flowed through her, catching hold, carrying her in a cross tide of ebbs and flows.
She whimpered, moaned, murmured, and then with an occasional sharp intake of breath, waves carried her to another dimension. What else could she do, tied, held, controlled, helpless, taking the pain or the pleasure of his choosing? Master of her mind, Captain of her soul, he could continue like this indefinitely. He knew pain. He understood the psychology of the mind and just how far to take her. Now he was pushing the boundaries to a place where only she and he might go.
He alone knew the path, and yet he too was suddenly on a deep learning curve. Every slave was different. No two experiences are ever the same. It was about living on the edge and daring to go further.
Weird and wonderful images caught in the shafts of delight sprayed suddenly across her vision as he sank his cock further and further. Her body shuddered, heart racing, pulse roaring as something ripped through her body, shredding her nerves, jabbing, twisting, aching, grinding, gripping, catching her off guard, reaching from a different place in a different way to bring her innermost cravings and needs to the surface; needs that had been hidden too deep too long.
He shifted the emphasis suddenly and deliberately, without warning, upsetting the balance. Her mind reeled with the assault. What was he doing? Where was he going? What had his hands placed there? He didn’t guide her any more, he simply took control.
Her senses had nothing to hold on to, no place to hide, to escape the driving force pushing and surging and carrying her on. Helplessly she was being driven by a flow of energy which danced to an unfamiliar melody, touching and stroking, then paining the pleasure that had been.
Less often now he stroked and caressed away her fear with whispered reassurances in her ear, smoothing her hair, wiping away her tears. Less and less she felt fear, but rather followed where he led. He had taken control. Through pain and pleasure she was right there with him, not knowing, not caring any more, carried by the tide of emotion on which she rode like a surfer on the crest of a wave.
And ever nearer he could sense that need riding its way to the surface... soon he would grab hold, then finally she could be free.
He had fucked every orifice, not once, not twice, but until he was satiated and fulfilled. She didn’t need to be tied any more. The mind-fuck had worked. She was his completely, in every possible way; mind, body, spirit, soul, to do with as he pleased.
Pain seared through her breasts. Marks of pegs patterned in a range of different colours. Now these gave way to needles, used in the same way as acupuncture. They didn’t hurt, in fact quite the reverse, she found them calming, soothing, folding away the pain. Rope binding still twisted beneath each, raising them, two firm balls of flesh with nipples clamped tight. It was the pain of having them taken away that hurt most, as he released her from her outward bonds.
But then what of her mind, her thoughts, past images, past pain? Had a channel been opened through the confusion of pain-pleasure experience for it to pass away from her, like water down a drain, no longer needed, leaving him to explore without it getting in his way?
Her body relaxed. She had given herself completely to him in trust, to do with as he pleased, his way.
As everything was removed from her pinpricks of pain awakened, renewed, aroused, adding a range of sensual feelings to the now gentle touch he offered. His hands were smoothing, caressing, reassuring, where before they had been clasping, twisting, hurting. Instinctively her hips rose off the bed, satiated and yet aroused as fingers once more entered her cunt. He lay beside her, tender now as sadist gave way to sub, holding her close, ready to take her as his own.
‘Dream Catcher told you not to touch me, not to come near me!’ Abi spewed the words, each filled with outrage, confusion, pain.
‘What are you saying?’
She hadn’t meant to blurt out the words, but she was angry and upset.
‘Come on, you can’t suddenly say something like that without the evidence to back it up. Besides, you enjoyed every bit of what happened, that was obvious.’
Shadow was goading her, playing with her. Everything about him screamed at her to be careful. He was dangerous. But she felt stripped of dignity and self-respect, and she was also angry at herself, for allowing him to treat her like that, to take her that far.
‘I’m going to tell Dream Catcher when he returns. You can’t get away with what you’ve just done to me.’
Even to her it sounded like tittle-tattling to a teacher. Shadow laughed, and in his laugh she heard the maliciousness, the sheer evil; he was enjoying even this, having her as a sparring partner.
‘But that’s my job. You are my slave. You do as you’re told. You don’t have any say in the matter. Remember?’
‘But it’s not the way it’s supposed to be. I heard you talking... I know, okay? You were in the cage and he told you things were going to be different. He said to stay away from me. Do you remember that?’
The instant the words were out she knew she shouldn’t have said them. Far better to have kept quiet and wait for Dream Catcher’s return. But then, how long was that going to be? And how much could she actually endure and survive? Shadow was acting as if he alone were in charge and that he had nothing to lose in his treatment of her. Besides, it had never been this bad. And it was because Dream Catcher was away that he could do this. Somehow his perception was that she had enjoyed it, that her screams were of ecstasy and not horror. She’d said ‘no’ in so many different ways, and he needed to believe she had enjoyed it to make it right.
The silence that grew between them spoke volumes. She could tell by his body language he was angry.
‘If you can’t accept your enjoyment of what we have just shared, then consider it a punishment for playing with yourself without permission.’
Again he had that ability to shock and confuse just as she thought she’d got an angle on the situation.
‘How? I mean, when...?’
‘You saw the cage, the Dungeon, you heard the words. I watched you play with yourself as I have many times. Dream Catcher punished me for not stopping you, for not administering punishment when you knew it was wrong. So you had this coming, although I still say you enjoyed it. You’re simply in denial. Perhaps it shocks you that you would want to go that far.’
It was useless trying to talk to Shadow when he was in this mood. But then again, he was giving away the fact that there were cameras in more places than she knew. It made so much sense; he and Dream Catcher had known everything about her because they could see her even when she believed she was alone. She didn’t know if she could trust either of them again.
There seemed so much else going on. She was living in the same house, and yet she still didn’t know what was happening, much less how the peculiar relationship worked between Dream Catcher and Shadow.
She knew!
He didn’t know how she knew, she just did. Somehow she had seen him on camera with Richard in the dungeon, heard their words. When did she do that, and how? What did she actually know? Had she listened to part of the conversation or the whole? And did she know the words that made him feel so insecure?
There had never been a point in his life before when he had lost control. He was a problem solver. He always had answers. To every problem there was a solution, and therefore there was no problem. Emotion had never got in the way of his decision making. Without a thought he’d always been able to cut to the chase.
But now he didn’t have enough information to go on, and he couldn’t ask her without giving away some degree of control. Besides, that would be telling her his dilemma, the fact that he was unsure.
No, he had to work with his own resources, and find a way through. There was one, he was sure.
Shit, shit, shit! How had this happened?
Events had overtaken him and he hadn’t even seen them coming. He had thought his future secure, that he and Richard would continue just as they had always done. Sure, there were times he would be away from the island, like now, and it was during those times when the sadist within him could come to the fore. He didn’t have a problem with that, and neither should she. She should simply be doing as she was told. Besides, she was in denial. She enjoyed the shock tactics; everything about her screamed ecstasy and wanting more, and he was only too willing to oblige. They worked well together. Meanwhile, Richard could continue to be Master. He need never know. Usually he was able to hold his sadism in check. That wasn’t a problem.
Until now.
Now he was pissed off with Richard. He’d betrayed him. He’d waited until he’d moulded the girl into a slave, and then was ready to ditch him and take the reward of his labours. He was certain that was what was happening, especially when he returned and Pandora told him the way she was threatening to do.
There was no way of keeping Richard from seeing Pandora. At some point soon they were going to come together, and the shit was going to hit the fan. There was no way of stopping it...
Or was there?
He’d done it before, he could do it again.
Slowly a plan began to form.
The assaults kept coming. They were happening more and more, and they came suddenly and usually when least expected, as if the element of surprise and shock were a part. Shadow’s sexual appetite was ferocious, but then so was his need to cause pain. More than punishing her, the beast in him seemed to be taking over and there was no doubt now that he was a sadist. But then again something more, something else, because there were those times when he seemed to be punishing himself, or rather, want her to do that for him. He seemed to have a craving to know the sensations of both pleasure and pain as his own.
Why did he goad her and then switch to become... what?
She didn’t know. It had become a game, and he the Games Master. Always he was the one in control, whether wanting the pain or giving it. He made up the rules as he went along, and then changed them ad hoc when he felt like it, or when the mood made it so.
He also seemed keyed up, spurred on by something else, something she couldn’t understand at all. For no apparent reason he would burst out laughing, a heartless laugh that set her nerves on edge, wondering what might follow.
She’d tried to climb inside his mind so many times, to second guess, to understand the needs of Shadow as a Master. But she had failed, just as he was failing her.
Or had he?
More and more she spent time away from the house, choosing to nestle in that special place she had found between the rocks on the beach. She was paranoid. Since discovering that seeing the dungeon and Shadow in the cage was real and not part of a dream, constantly she looked for cameras.
In her rooms she believed she had found all those that existed there, but even far away from the house, even amongst the rocks, knowing she couldn’t be seen from the windows, she sought out lenses which might be hidden. And yes, she discovered one which opened out at the point where the glow of the floodlights might join. She’d continued searching, but found no more.
Following one particular night she arrived at the beach exhausted. Shadow had crept in through the darkness, catching her unawares as she was sleeping. Throwing caution to the winds she had struggled and screamed.
But it was useless. He took her anyway. He didn’t care, except with satiating his own appetite, always greedy for more. It wasn’t until the early hours that he left her.
She knew he would be sleeping, and she took advantage of knowing she was alone, at least for a while, by cuddling the rocks, taking pleasure in feeling the lap of water around her toes.
Suddenly a shadow passed over. The sound of a helicopter made her look up. She was reminded of the day Grand Master had arrived, the excitement she’d felt, knowing she would be collared and ‘married’ to her Masters. How different things were now.
But wait, the helicopter was circling. She caught sight of two faces; the pilot and another. Grand Master? Could it really be?
In a moment of madness she was climbing desperately out of the rocks, grazing her bare feet on the jagged outcrop, suddenly sensing a way to be free. ‘Wait!’ she shouted. ‘Please... wait!’
Was Grand Master going to visit? Was he bringing Dream Catcher back home? Oh, if only... if only!
But already it was passing on. They hadn’t seen her. She was too late. If only she had been in the open. Damn the camera! She could have shown some sign of distress, shown that all was not well. And then Grand Master might have landed. After all, he presumably had a code of practice he expected others to live by. He would be the ideal person to tell.
He was gone, but not so the questions buzzing around in her head.
What was Grand Master doing here?
How long would it be until Dream Catcher returned?
They were the two most important questions which had most impact on what was happening to her. And as she sat to think on these things, a plan began to form.
‘Be still!’ She was getting harder and harder to control. He had to use brute force now while he threaded the rope through into knots to hold her. ‘Remember your place, slave.’
The air quivered with uncertainty, but she was defiant. ‘No, I can’t take this any more. You can’t do this to me.’
Shadow laughed deviously. ‘There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Be careful, Little One. I can always find other ways.’
She was adamant. Sitting on her hands she tried desperately to put them out of reach. There was no door to lock him out. No place to hide. She’d debated about staying out of doors. With only one camera his sights were limited. If it came to it she would. If there was no other way, and if her plan failed, then...
‘You’re making it hard on yourself. Maybe you enjoy the rough stuff. Maybe it’s time to push the boundaries and to try new things; more edgy, more dangerous...’
His words were designed to shock, to jolt her out of her reverie. He turned for the polythene bag he’d brought with him for just this occasion. She needed to be weakened, to have the rebellion taken from her. He hadn’t tried this before, but he’d heard it also aroused and stimulated orgasms. He’d enjoy seeing her response.
In a moment she was gone. It was as if she’d planned it, but how could she know? She was running through the open French window and down between the rocks towards the beach. He let her go, but then on impulse brought forward his plan.
‘I’ve news for you, Little One!’ he called after her. ‘He isn’t coming back... Dream Catcher, that is.’
He watched her falter, and stop. Ah, now he had her attention.
‘Dream Catcher. He’s had an accident. It was a car accident, and his death was immediate.’
Wham!
The news drove home. She almost sank down where she was and he made for the door, meaning to bring her back inside. But as if sensing his intention she pulled herself up and walked fast, then ran somewhere out of view.
He let her go. Why should he worry? She couldn’t get far. After all, this was an island. She’d need to come back when she was hungry. Maybe this was the best way after all.
He gathered up his things and left her room.
‘Dream Catcher isn’t coming back...’
‘He’s had an accident... a car accident... his death was immediate.’
Dead!
The words kept going round and round in her head. She couldn’t take them in. She didn’t want to take them in. They didn’t belong. They couldn’t be true. And yet why would Shadow say them if they weren’t true?
She wasn’t thinking straight.
Again she believed she’d found the answer. Again he had come, just the way he always did, and snatched it all away.
She ran until she had no more breath, gasping and gagging, pushing herself into the unyielding rocks that rose like aliens from the sands, surrounding the bay. They shielded her. They protected. They calmed. Just knowing she was out of the line of the camera lens tracking her movements brought her some degree of comfort.
But then she was crying, wracking sobs that shook her body. Where had the dream gone? Had it always been this way and she’d just never seen it how it really was? How could she have been so blind? She felt trapped. A bird in a gilded cage. She’d been given everything she had ever wanted, and more, and kept, locked away from the world. For months she’d had no stimulus from the outside world. She didn’t even know what was going on away from the island. She was a prisoner. There was no place to go, and no means to get there even if she could.
She thought of the helicopter, and of the plan which had formed. Now was as good a time as any. She knew that now Shadow would prevent her even going outside, given she’d used it as a way of getting out of his clutches. Now the sadist in him had taken over it was as if he were finely tuned, anticipating her actions before she knew herself what she might do. She’d beaten him to it on this occasion, but he wasn’t likely to let it happen again. The French windows would be locked, of that she could be certain. He could be waiting for her even now.
Again she looked to where the camera lay hidden in the rocks. Floodlights were positioned on either side, two more strategically placed so that anyone approaching the bay could clearly be seen. But the sands stretched beyond, and she knew just where she could sit without being in the line of vision.
She could see the silhouette watching from the window. He wasn’t coming out. Why should he, when he knew eventually she would be forced in either through a turn in the weather or by basic needs? Keeping her head low, as if grief-stricken... which she didn’t really have to pretend because she was... she continued following the coastline, and then came back on the same path.
Gulls swooped overhead, no doubt hoping for food. It wasn’t the sound she wanted to hear. She listened to their cackle, knowing they had a language all of their own. She wished she too could make somebody hear at a distance.
The window was empty. Shadow seemed to have given up his vigil, but she knew he would be keeping a watchful eye. She would stay out as late as she could. There was no urgency to return. Shadow would only be thinking up more perverse ways of punishing her, making her pay for somehow taking control and keeping him waiting. Well, let him wait! He wasn’t used to not being obeyed. His payback would be swift and certain.
She settled back in the line of rocks, her favoured place, and looked back to the path she’d followed through the wet sand, the lettering she’d scraped in it with her feet large and bold and clear.
H E L P
Maybe Dream Catcher really was dead and would never return, but Grand Master seemed to have made it his mission to fly over the island, for whatever reason. She would use that to her advantage.
Meanwhile her thoughts drifted to Dream Catcher. Just before he left that time they’d spent in his room had seemed all the more special. He genuinely appeared to care for her, to love her. Out of the two men he had always been the one she would turn to so easily, giving herself freely, without fear. Somehow he instilled trust. She knew she was safe with him. He took control, but went only to a level she could cope with, pushing her that little bit further but always at her pace, and never abusing her trust.
Shadow had always been different.
But given what she had witnessed on the screen once the session was over, she didn’t know if she could trust either of them. They seemed to have each betrayed her in different ways.
What was it that drove Shadow now?
She mulled these things over in her mind, and gradually the day passed, and she drifted, dozing, until the ball of fire on the horizon began to sink into the crimsoned sea.
Suddenly she heard the chuff... chuff... chuff of the air being beaten by rotors. Then came the drone of an engine, and the continual whoosh of the rotors as the helicopter approached.
Grand Master!
Immediately she was on her feet. Who cared now if Shadow saw her? She would only get one chance at this. She had to make the plan work. There was no other way.
She ran the short distance and sat by the lettering in the sand just out of view. Yes, there he was! Grand Master! She watched him lean forward, forehead pressed against the window. His hand raised, his head turned. It was as if he were instructing the pilot. Slowly the helicopter edged towards her. Yes, yes, yes!
But then Shadow was coming from the house, attracted by the noise. Peering over the rocks she saw him start to run. She rose to her feet as the helicopter landed.
‘Quick, take my hand, there’s a good girl!’
‘Grand Master!’
‘No time for words! Just heave yourself up... that’s it!’
Shadow was almost upon them, reaching out, ready to snatch her back as the helicopter rose into the air, hovering just out of reach above him. He swatted at it as if it was an irritating fly, jumping up and down as if he could somehow drag it down. And despite herself Abi laughed. Two arms enveloped her. She was safe.
‘Seems we were just in time.’
‘That is so true!’
‘So what’s been happening? And where is Dream Catcher? Isn’t he back yet?’
Abi didn’t know where to begin. She relaxed back in her seat. Dream Catcher. Again the sadness dragged her down, and suddenly she was spilling out the way it had been.
Grand Master’s face darkened the more the story was revealed. At one point he leaned forward to tap the pilot on the shoulder. ‘Divert to Pentangle. We won’t be going home just yet.’
She wondered where Pentangle was, what it was, who lived there, what Grand Master’s connection was with it.
‘Go on, I’m listening,’ he prompted, and she marshalled her thoughts and continued sharing the way Shadow had become more and more sadistic in his behaviour, revealing the bizarre events that had followed the Collaring Ceremony. As he listened, Grand Master resolved to use this information for his own ends.
While in a room in the heart of the City, Sir Richard Armstrong had just completed the deal - the biggest deal of his life. He was looking forward to returning home... and to Angel.
-oOo-