I am a whore.

In the shower, I cleaned the sweat and what was left of his delicious cum from my body. Under the invigorating spray, the fog of lust started to clear, and it began to sink in.

I am a whore.

In the shower, I cleaned the sweat and what was left of his delicious cum from my body. Under the invigorating spray, the fog of lust started to clear, and it began to sink in.

I am a whore. And I was so good at it, I’d earned a bonus.

My stomach churned with disgust. But, worse, I was getting aroused again. With water cascading over my body, the wanderings of my soapy hands were becoming softer, slower, sensuous.

I am a whore. A dirty slut. I cradled my breasts and squeezed, the breath rushing from lungs. My pussy was feeling left out, demanding attention…

I’d just acted out a scene from a porn movie, and with my past, I had good reason for that thought to chill me to the bone. But it only made me hotter. I’m a dirty cocksucking whore!

NO!! I’m not like this!! I leapt out of the shower, and grabbed a towel to scrub myself dry and to scour away the lust.

Once I was dry, I found myself looking down at the flimsy excuses for clothes. I hated the thought of putting them on – that would lead to walking out of here, back into the club. Where I’d face the lusty gazes of all those patrons. And those gazes would inflame my apparently insatiable lust.

Oh April. What have you done to me? Was this always part of me, just waiting to be unleashed by your kiss, your tongue?

The silence was shattered - the bedroom door opened. Acting on instinct I killed the restroom’s light and swung the door shut. But my T-shirt was blocked the doorway – it remained ajar.

I heard a man and woman entering. She was speaking softly, submissively. “I’ve been such a bad girl, a naughty girl.” There was something familiar about the voice.

I heard them moving around – someone settling onto the bed, lowered voices, rustle of clothing. Curiosity got the better of me and I peered through the crack in the door. What I saw sent a cold shiver through my body.

He was young, maybe still a teen judging by the acne, in crumpled jeans and a shirt covered in food stains. She’d been awe-inspiring, frightening, domineering, and yet, impossibly, here she was - Tigra, lying across the lap of some young, spotty geek, begging him to punish her!

She was looking straight at me, and time stopped as our eyes met. She looked away, ashamed, and my heart – and my pussy - ached for her.

Then she jumped. He swatted her behind with his hand. Again. He couldn’t be hurting her much, but she was on the verge of tears. The sheer humiliation of being brought so low. And then I noticed something else – the way her hips ground into him, the way she lifted her ass to meet each slap.

It was such an arousing sight. I didn’t consciously notice my fingers enter my pussy or the hand squeezing my tit - I just felt the pleasure.

He stopped swatting for a moment, and said, “Now, my little kitty, it’s time for the belt.”

She rolled off his lap and knelt at his feet. He seemed surprised, but not alarmed. “Master, may I speak?”

He was enjoying the view, and nodded. I imagined she looked very good from that angle, still in her leather corset.

Her eyes darted briefly in my direction, and my fingers froze. I felt rising panic.

“Master, we are being watched.” And she turned and pointed triumphantly at me. The bitch! She got up and strode confidently towards me – THIS was the Tigra who’d entered my fantasies. I was paralysed.

She kicked open the door and exposed me standing there, still with a finger in my pussy. I couldn’t remove it, it was all I could do to stop it from moving, thrusting. I managed a weak moan.

He was startled. “Wh – what…”

Tigra continued, a predatory expression on her face, a look that turned my insides to jelly. “She’s a very naughty girl, master. Even naughtier than I’ve been. Shouldn’t she be punished?”

His confusion was quickly replaced by excitement. “I – I guess.” Then more certainly. “Yes, slave, she should.”

She pulled my hand away from my pussy and hurled me to my knees in the bedroom, before him. I couldn’t look at either of them. I looked at the floor. I thought you liked me! I demanded of her in my thoughts, even as pleasure made me weak. Will it never end?

Tigra was now speaking to him, softly, submissively. “Master, I’m so sorry, but house rules are very specific. You’ve paid for one girl, me. You can’t do anything to this naughty slut.” I felt a hot pulse of frustration.

“But I can punish her for you. It’s your choice, Master. We can send her away, and you can have your way with me as you planned. Or you can watch me disciplining her, and then do what you want with me. Shall I send her away?”

I looked up. My fate was being discussed as if I wasn’t present. I had no voice. That would have once made me angry, but now… I saw the bulge of his erection, and knew what he’d decided. I groaned, overcome by an unfamiliar mix of fear and anticipation.

Tigra recognised his desire too, and smiled menacingly. She walked over to one of the walls, and slid back a large concealed panel. From the compartment within, she swung out some kind of frame, bristling with hooks and straps. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Leeza, what have you gotten yourself into?

Then she returned to me, and grabbed my hair, dragging me to my feet. That broke my mental paralysis. “You can’t do this!” I whimpered.

She grabbed the pendant, used and used its chain to drag me like a leash over to the contraption. She whispered in my ear, “Don’t play so coy. We both know: you want what I can do to you.”

She was wrong. I was frightened. I wanted her to escape, for her to let me go. I told her so, pleading miserably.

But she was also right. I wanted her to take me, to crush my resistance, to ignore my pathetic cries for mercy.

She faced me to say, “You could break free of my grip if you really wanted. You could get to the door and call for help. But I’m telling you not to do that. I’m ordering you to stay. And you’re going to do as I tell you. Aren’t you?”

Oh god. How could I even think of refusing her? When she could make me feel like this.

She took my silence as assent, and strapped me into the frame. She made short work of the task, clearly having done this many times before. Soon, I was spread-eagled, with some kind of strap around my abdomen helping to support my weight, and another around my neck to support my head. My body was tilted slightly forward, my tits dangling beneath me. I was helpless, completely at her mercy, no part of me beyond her reach.

On the bed, the geek had lain back, his jeans around his knees. I couldn’t see his member behind his hand, and that bothered me. Cocks were beautiful things.

The bed-sheets were different, I realised with a start. Someone had changed them while I was in the bathroom. My mind was fraying under the tension, and I almost giggled in semi-hysteria, at the absurdity of noticing that detail at a time like this.

What was she waiting for? And why was I so desperate for her to begin? Just get it over with!

Tigra opened another panel in the wall, revealing a variety of straps, cords, whips – I didn’t recognise most of the things hanging there. But I knew in my hot, throbbing heart that they weren’t good for me.

She lifted each implement and showed it to the geek, inviting him to choose what she was going to use on me. He finally selected a rod not much larger than barbell, from which trailed a lot of thin leather strips. I felt relieved – those tassels didn’t look very substantial at all. But the way she smiled gave my pussy a spasm.

“You’ve been a naughty girl.” She said, as walked around me, trailing the tassels over my flesh, my back, my breasts, my abdomen, my ass. I jumped and twitched at the delicate sensation. She was speaking.

She grabbed my chin and turned me to face her. Looking into my eyes, she declared a simple truth: “Naughty girls need discipline.”

Then she looked down at my tits. Oh god, not there, please not there. I knew now how sensitive they were!

She smiled evilly, stepping away, raising her hand. I squeezed my eyes shut and tensed for the blow.

Nothing. And then she was changing position. “You’re going to be a good girl for me.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact. And it was from behind me.

Whoosh! Leather whipping through the air. My body went rigid – but no impact. She was teasing me, tormenting me.

Suddenly, her hand was on my butt, gently but firmly stroking. Preparing the ground, I thought in rising fear.

And then, that whoosh! And still nothing. She did it again, and again. The geek commented on how lovely I looked. “I love the way her tits bounce when she jumps… I’m going to pick her next time!”

Distracted by his words, I was completely unprepared for the impact, the fire erupting in my buttock. It was like being struck by a dozen straps, each landing in a different place.

Then her hand was back, stroking, soothing, as I squirmed in my bonds. She whispered, “Very good. That’s my girl.” I wasn’t able to squeeze my thighs together, but my body tried anyway, to ease a different heat blazing in my pussy.

Such pain. Such pleasure. Is there any perversion I’m not guilty of?

And that’s how it went. She’d tease and torment me, always managing to catch me by surprise, causing me to shriek and shake and writhe in my leather chains. Then she’d soothe me, stroking the blazing heat of my buttocks, her fingers moving closer and closer to the wet heat of my pussy.

How could she be so harsh, and yet, so gentle? As she soothed me, she spoke quietly, telling me I could take it, telling me she knew I wouldn’t let her down. I wanted her to be right. I didn’t want to let her down.

But she wasn’t going to let me tell her. She gagged my mouth with some kind of rod, like something a pony would wear. It forced my jars apart, and the rod bulged in the centre, pinning my tongue against the floor of my mouth. “It’s for your own good,” she told me in that soothing way she used just before inflicting pain.

And I noticed, in helpless horror, that a different sensation was building inside of me. The pain and pleasure had merged together, and now something like an orgasm was building – but something darker, more soul-shattering. And I couldn’t stop it. It was coming, and there was nothing I could do. And so I felt myself letting go, abandoning myself to the feeling. I was completely at her mercy. I belonged to her.

And then he groaned, and shouted, “Tigra, get over here bitch! I need you now!” I’d forgotten he was there.

Her demeanour changed instantly – her shoulders slumped, her expression softened. No! I thought. Don’t stop! You can’t stop now!

She looked into my eyes, sadly, and I had the sudden desire to comfort her, my torturer. Then she pulled a hood over my face, plunging me into darkness, and abandoned me.

I heard her whispers and whimpers as she went to him and abased herself before him. The sounds of leather against feminine flesh. Then the sounds of something being hurled aside, and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. His crude gruntings: “Take it, bitch-slut!” Tigra’s pathetic cries of “Yes! Yes! Yes!” Then came their mutual moans and cries of release, and then silence.

But above all, I was aware of the screaming need of my own writhing, twitching body as I moaned and slavered into the gag – the roaring fire of my buttocks, and the gaping hungry void of my aching cunt, crying out to be filled, weeping at its emptiness.

And so there I hung, forced to listen to him dressing and departing. Unable to move as she lay there, recovering. Then, finally, feeling anticipation, hope of release, as she walked towards me. And then plunging despair as she passed, going into the restroom. No!

I was so overcome, sobbing in frustration, that I didn’t hear her return. “How’s my naughty girl?” I moaned into the gag, incoherent with excitement. She lay her hand against the fire of my buttocks. I flinched, trying to get my raw nerve endings away from her. I couldn’t go far.

She waited, her palm against me, until I settled, and then she gently, firmly squeezed. I couldn’t tell if the pleasure was so great it became pain, or the pain was so great it became pleasure. And she didn’t let up. She was using both hands now, alternately stroking and squeezing – only the buttocks, the raw tortured buttocks.

How my weeping cunt cried out for attention, so close to her fingers. And each twitch or flinch of my body, every vibration, sent my oh-so-sensitive tits a-jiggling, another tormenting source of pleasure.

She whispered, “You’ve been a very good girl. I’m going to show you something amazing. You’re going to cum for me. Are you ready?” Oh god, yes! Please!

“Be a good girl, and cum NOW.” And, amazingly, her hands on my blazing buttocks, and her dominating voice, sent me crashing over the edge; the fire, the pleasure erupting into my brain, wiping out conscious thought.

My body thrashed about in its bonds like a ragdoll, my incoherent screams absorbed by the gag. But Tigra was there, holding me, her hands gently stroking away the fire, her voice bringing me back to earth with soothing, comforting words.

She released me from my bonds, and my weak, twitching body fell into her arms. She removed the hood and the gag, cradling my head against her naked breasts. She stroked my hair as I wept tears of release, of gratitude and love.

“Thank you,” she said. I didn’t understand why she was thanking me - I was still recovering and couldn’t think, let alone speak. She leaned back a touch, and I fell forward, my head slipping down her body to rest comfortably in her lap.

She sounded so sad and wistful. “It’s been so long. I don’t get the opportunity to do that much anymore. I have to savour those moments of being in charge.” Her aroma was all around me, enticing, arousing.

She stroked my hair, and her voice choked up. “I came here with Kristina, my sub. She’d fallen under the spell and it was the only way to keep her. But she’s gone diamond now… I can barely remember what she looked like. We used to sit like this. I’d run my hands through her hair like this. I – I think it was black. But I can’t remember what she felt like any more…”

I opened my eyes, and gasped. I could see her pussy. I knew how to I could make her feel better…

As my head moved up her thighs, she gave a little sigh and planted her hand on my back. “Stop. I want to warn you…”

I felt strange. I’d been threw the wringer, and now I felt calm, satisfied, and aroused all at once. It was like being in a trance. And so I just stopped. I didn’t pull away, I just lay there, enjoying the closeness, and the scent that was growing stronger.

Then she lifted her hand. “Fuck. There’s no point fighting it. Go ahead.” And she lay back, opening her legs, and I felt thrilled at the opportunity to give her pleasure.

I’d never been this close to another woman’s pussy. Is it racist to wonder if black pussy tastes different from white? I wondered dreamily. I leaned over her, my face close enough for her to feel my breath, and savoured the intoxicating scent. My fingers reverently opened the folds of her inner beauty to my gaze. So pink! And so juicy and wet.

My breath caught in my throat as I noticed the ring through the clitoris. It was small, but large enough to ensure the clit could never sink back into its protective hood. I couldn’t resist – I took hold of it and gently rocked it. Tigra immediately stiffened. I looked up, worried I might be hurting her. Her head was thrown back, an expression of lust, while her hands manipulating larger rings through her nipples.

I leaned in close to kissed her lips, and to work my tongue between them. Remembering April, I took a deep breath, and then thrust my tongue into her like a dagger. She stiffened, “Oh fuuuccckkk!”

With my hands on her hips holding her still, I tried to suck as much of her soft wet lips into my mouth as I could. At the same time, I was darting my tongue in and out, as deep as I could, thrilling at her murmured whispers of pleasure.

Then I pulled back, and she sighed in disappointment. I traced a finger of each hand around her pussy, towards her exposed clit and then away. Was it stretched by the ring, I wondered, or just naturally so large?

The sound of her cries and the taste of her filled me with joy and lust. I leaned in, drawing the engorged nub into my mouth, gently sucking, licking, squeezing, rolling the ring with my tongue. I was also jabbing two of my fingers into her cut, repeated rapid thrusts. The combined assault took her over the edge, and I was startled to feel something gushing against my face.

I felt energised, aroused, and at the same time, fulfilled. I’d made her come. I’d given her pleasure.

I now felt her hands on my head, as she pulled my up alongside her, and we kissed. A deep, long, soulful kiss. She broke the kiss, tears in her eyes, and said, “We can’t stay her forever. We’ve taken too long. Angela’s on duty and she’ll notice.”

At the mention of Angela, my heart tightened, and my cunt twitched. Tigra looked flustered by the thought, too. So we headed into the shower, and quickly washed each other. “If only we had more time…” she said.

She saw my eyes glancing to her nipple rings. “Fascinating, aren’t they? You’ll get yours pierced, too. We all do, sooner or later.”

Such pretty lights. I was leaning at the balcony overlooking the clubbers dance floor, captivated by the glitterballs and their pretty lights. As I stood there, rocking my hips to the beat of the music, my eyes often wandered to the dance floor below. So many pretty young things… Men and women. A world of possibilities.

But which of them could afford me? I thought sadly.

At that thought, I cast my eye at the other spectators on the balcony. They were older men, and by their outfits, clearly wealthy. I felt my pulse quicken, and turned by back to the dancers. I leaned back against the rail, and stretched to draw attention to my body. Yes! They were looking.

There was a stairwell leading down to the dance floor. A bearded older man in a suit emerged from the stairwell, leading a girl, a clubber. They were an odd couple. He was twice his age, his Harris tweed jacket probably cost more than she owned. She was young and very pretty, and clung adoringly to his arm. There was something in her eyes, a dreamy dazed look. Like she was in love. It was sexy.

But it also stirred something at the back of my mind. I tried to dismiss it, to turn back to my audience. But before I could, someone grabbed the older man from behind, shouting, “That’s my girl!”

The older man whirled to face two young clubbers - both males, spoiling for a fight. And by the look of them, they knew how to fight, and didn’t take nonsense from anyone.

The talkative youngster said, “Jessie, come with me, we’re going.” The girl seemed torn. She looked at the speaker, and back to the older man.

The older man stared them down. He was certainly brave. “She was your girl. Now she’s mine.” And he put his arm around her, possessively drawing her into his arm. I think I heard her whimper.

“Let her go.” The younger man seemed suddenly less certain of himself, surprised at the ‘old’ man’s confidence .

“She doesn’t want to go with you. You’re mine now, aren’t you, Jessie?” He looked down at her and she up at him, and after a pause, she nodded and cuddled against him.

The older man then turned back to the boys. “Now stop being a nuisance, and run along.” He wasn’t merely confident. He was arrogant and patronising.

And they took it! The two boys looked deflated. They actually apologised. “Sorry, Mister.” Then, heads low, they headed back down the stairwell.

And the older man led the girl, his prize, away.

For some reason, the exchange aroused me tremendously.

But it had also broken through my giddy euphoria. It didn’t make sense.

Those boys looked like bruisers. But they’d backed down, rather than fight for their girl. Maybe they didn’t deserve to keep her. They had accepted defeat so gracefully. Without posturing, they just walked away with their tails between their legs.

And the girl… What was it about that look?

I looked around for them. They were on the other floor, heading past one of the dance stages. Kimmi was on the stage, slowly removing her sailor’s outfit.

Following my instincts, I headed after them, hurrying down the stairs and across the floor. But something else was percolating through my mind. Kimmi – what was it about Kimmi? Was it something Tigra had said?

I found myself remembering my encounter with Tigra, my own submission to her. At the rush that brought, I had to stop and lean against a pillar. My insides had turned to jelly.

Focus, Leeza. Tigra had mentioned something – a warning? A diamond? That thought led me back to Dimples. She’d mentioned a diamond – and April! Kimmi had been a friend of April. I looked up at her on the stage – I needed to talk to Kimmi.

Around the stage, patrons were urging her to come over so they could slide money into her garter. One group of patrons in particular caught my attention. The group I’d seen Kimmi dancing for, earlier. The dusky woman who’d been hiding her interest now had a bunch of bills in her hand and was waving it at the dancer. Her jacket was gone, and her blouse was open revealing the bra beneath. She’d certainly got over her shyness!

Her three friends were around her, one either side and the third embracing her from behind, openly fondling her tits. One of the man at her side grabbed her head, and they kissed, while she was grinding her ass into the man behind her!

They were getting carried away. The dancer was forgotten, as the man behind the dusky girl pulled off her bra and threw it into the crowd. She laughed and whirled to kiss him, and they tumbled to the ground.

Before they could get any further, the bouncers were there. They grabbed the entire party and dragged them away, to some catcalls from the disappointed audience.

I looked around for that guy in the tweed jacket and his girl, but they were long gone. But Kimmi was still here, so I headed to the bar to wait for her. I didn’t mind waiting – I could watch the remaining strippers, and I was in a good position for men to look at me.

I sat carefully, my buttocks were still sensitive. Moving around in these tight shorts was a constant source of stimulation.

Dimples wasn’t around. She must have finished her shift. I missed her.

The mirror behind the bar was very useful. I could study the effect of different postures and poses on my body and face, imagining the effect they might have on any viewers.

The boobalicious Pandy saw me practicing, and came over to offer some tips. We made small talk – she had lots of advice about cosmetics that might be good for me, a subject I didn’t know much about. A fact I intended to remedy.

She took out some lipstick, and painted it on to my lips. “It needs a little extra,” she said, and leant forward to lick my lips. That turned into a kiss. Our boobs pressed against each other, sending surges of pleasure through my nipples.

As we drew apart, I noticed the people sitting nearby were staring. Naturally, we smiled at them and hugged, licking our lips.

Pandy turned back to me. “This rouge is very useful for nipples.” And with that, she lifted one gargantuan breast out from her top, and demonstrated by applying the powder.

I stared, open-mouthed. “They’re so big.”

She nodded, as she put it away. “It’s a result of a glandular problem, apparently. I forget the details. Can you believe I once thought of getting them reduced?”

I didn’t know what to say. I loved my tits, so large, but Pandy’s monsters… They might be too big even for me.

She continued. “Yes, I had an appointment arranged and everything. Then one of my doctors told me of an experimental treatment. Something that would strengthen muscles and tighten connective tissues. My monsters weren’t quite as big back then, so I thought, it was worth a try.

“It was an oil I had to have someone rub into my breasts and back.” She giggled. “It tasted like cum.

“It worked, though. But then he told me the price. I had to become his sex slave. Can you imagine that? There I was – someone who could barely walk, crippled by back pain. Now I was healthy and full of life. And someone wanted me! I was so happy, I fucked him there in the office.”

I was having trouble breathing again. Aroused, but also troubled. I felt like I needed to get away, to think. Something she’d told me was very important. What was it?

“You’re a sex slave? This doctor – he owns you?”

She looked a little sad for a moment. “Not any more. But then, how many relationships really last? He got me this gig. Now I’m surrounded by people who want to have sex with me. It’s heaven!”

“So that’s when you got the necklace - when you came here?”

She looked down and twirled the pendant in her fingers. “This? No, my doctor gave it to me during the treatment. Said it was some kind of ID thing, all the people in the medial trial had to keep them. The sexy liar. But I like it, so I’ve kept it.”

I was so close to something. The facts were all in my head. But how to put them together. I needed to think…

But Pandy suddenly dropping to her knees was a big distraction! I looked around, and saw the nearest bartender lower her eyes respectfully, as someone stepped up beside me.

He reached out a powerful hand, resting it on the bar – and there, on his ring finger, a large red gem. It felt like the breath was punched out of my lungs. An actual ruby, not a pathetic little stamp.

“Slave Leeza.” His voice – so powerful – reverberated through my body. My stomach was churning. My nipples ached, they were trying to pierce the shirt. My hot, dirty snatch was seeping.

I turned in his direction, but I could see only his feet. I wanted to say something, but I could barely breathe, never mind talk.

He told me: “The proper response is ‘Yes, Master.’ Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master!” I breathed, able to talk at last.

He held his hand out to the bartender. She gave him something. My wallet! The one that had been in my jacket pocket, the one I’d left with Angela. Then he said, “Follow me,” and walked away.

I rushed after him, my thoughts racing, as we entered the car park. My wallet – it had my credit cards, business cards, driving license. If Angela had gone through it, she’d know who I was. There was a reason that should bother me, wasn’t there?

Then we’d reached my car. “I’ll drive,” he said. “You won’t be able to find your way home.”

“Yes, Master!” It was such a rush, just saying those words.

I dropped into the passenger seat and winced. He noticed. I was sure he noticed everything.

“Get out.”

I was an a fever, a panic. What did I done wrong? I felt so low, I was almost in tears. I wanted to throw myself at his feet, beg for his forgiveness. Would he let me touch myself?

He walked around the car to where I stood, trembling. “Take them off.”

My mouth opened in shock. But I didn’t dare hesitate. I whimpered a “Yes, master!” and tore off my T-shirt, then wriggled out of shorts.

As I undressed, I glanced around. No-one was about. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

I started to roll down my stockings. “You can leave them on.”

“Yes, Master!” I shuddered in pleasure. “Thank you, Master.” Then I gasped in fear. That wasn’t the proper response! I almost looked at his face to see if he was angry, but I thought better of it.

So I stood there, in the car park, clad only in heels and stockings, my hands clasped behind my back.

He walked around behind me. “I see you’ve been punished.” Then he touched me, his hand gripping my sensitive buttocks. My legs buckled as I almost came.

“Yes, Master,” I gasped, barely able to speak.

“That wasn’t on your itinerary for tonight.” He said quietly, as if talking to himself. I didn’t know how to respond, so I stayed quiet.

“Someone will have to be punished. Who did this?”

Oh god, please not that!. Tigra hated it so much when she was punished. She’d been so nice to me.

But they must have security cameras on the doors to those rooms. They’d be able to figure it out. I’d only be making it worse, if I lied. More people would be punished. And could I even lie to him?

Those thoughts took barely a second to process, then I spoke. “Tigra, Master.”

I had betrayed her, that woman I felt so close to. So why did it feel so good?

“Good, Leeza. Back in the car.”

I was floating, on cloud nine. He was pleased with me. “Yes Master,” I almost squealed.

I started to reach for my clothes then froze. I started to hyperventilate. He hadn’t told me to dress. What to do? WHAT TO DO?

But dressing would keep him waiting, and naked, he could look at me…

I prayed it was the right guess, and entered the car, sitting carefully.

Shaking in abject terror, I waited for his rage.

“Fasten your seatbelt, there’s a good girl.”

Again, I almost came in relief, my breath whooshing out of me.

I wasn’t paying attention to the road. I wasn’t paying attention to anything, I was watching my knees. Were they far enough apart? I wondered. Was I sitting right? Did I look submissive enough?

But it was as if I didn’t exist. His hands on the wheel, his feet on the pedals. What if the car is stopped? What will the policemen think of me, sitting here naked? So horny, I’m dripping onto the seat…

The journey was taking an eternity. It was agony, It was ecstasy.

“Leeza,” he said, casually breaking the silence. “Did you enjoy your first night?”

There was only one possible answer. “Yes, Master!” And it was true. I’d never experienced so much pleasure. And I had a sudden insight. All that pleasure, all that degradation – it had been leading up to this moment. Preparing me for him.

“If you enjoyed that,” he said, “you’re in for a treat. I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. You’ll never be the same again.”

I felt like I was fainting, the world slipping away from beneath me. But I was fully conscious. Keep going! I silently urged him. Please keep talking! Tell me what you’re going to do to me. Just a few more words and I’ll cum. I’m so close!

But he didn’t say anything more, and I was left stewing in the furnace of my lust.

Then the car was coming to a stop, in a parking garage. The parking garage of my building, I realised suddenly.

He unlocked the door to my apartment and ushered me in. On the way up, I’d been fantasising that everyone on my floor would be waiting for us when the lift doors opened. But we’d made it to my apartment without bumping into anyone – not surprising, given the time of night.

And now I was letting this stranger into my apartment, so he could fuck me like I’d never been fucked before. Not for the first time tonight, I was filled with dread, burning with lust. But this time it was different. This time, there’d be no going back.

He didn’t head straight for the bedroom. First, he looked around. Examining the bookshelves, the CD collection, the decor.

He looked at the mantel, and the piece of oriental art above it – a temple I’d visited in China, a place I felt peaceful. “This has to go.”

What? But…

“This is the perfect place for a portrait.” He turned to look at me. “We like our girls to remind themselves of what they are. So, you’ll go to this address,” he held up a card and placed it on the mantel. “You’ll go there tomorrow and get your photo taken. You’ll be given a print, and you’ll hang it here. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master!” I answered without hesitation. Give me another order! , I screamed in my mind. Give me another reason to say those beautiful words.

Then he wandered through the rest of the apartment, looking around, and I followed meekly, hoping he’d speak. I could smell my lust, the scent following me around, filling the air.

I wondered if I should offer him a drink or something. I wondered if he’d be cross. Would he punish me? At the panic that struck me then, I knew that I did not want him to punish me. He wasn’t weak like Tigra.

And then I stopped, my eyes widening in horror. There, slung sloppily over the radiator. A discarded sweater. Not mine. My little sister’s. Jody!

He’d just looked inside the bathroom, and was now turning, heading for Jody’s room. I was paralysed.

Jody! What will she do if she sees me like this? What will he do if he finds her? Will he want her more than me?

I had to stop him. But I was paralysed. And so I watched, as he swung the door open.

He looked around, and then moved on, towards my bedroom. I hurried forward to Jody’s room, and sighed in heartfelt relief. Empty. She was probably still out clubbing, or the little slut had hooked up with someone. Either way, she wasn’t here. Whew!!

And then it hit me: My bedroom.

I hurried after him, what was left of my nerves fraying with excitement. I’m going to get fucked!

He had my wardrobe open, and was shaking his head, sighing in disappointment. Tears filled my eyes. Tell me what to do to make it right!

“That card I gave you,” he said. “There’s a list of approved stores. You’ll be able to find more suitable replacements for these –“ and he gestured absently at my wardrobe and dresser. He wasn’t being specific. Did I need to replace all my clothes?

I didn’t dare ask. I decided I would replace them all. That would be safest.

Then he looked at the bed, and again, I nearly fainted. “Lie down. On your back.”

I scrambled on to the bed, almost falling in my excitement. As I lay there, waiting, he slowly, casually removed his clothes. He folded each item, placing them on a chair.

I stared at the ceiling, the tension eating at me as I waited impatiently. My hands twitched. Dare I lift them to my rock hard nipples? Or slip a finger or two into my molten snatch. Perhaps flick the throbbing clit. Maybe just grind my burning buttocks against the sheets.

But what if he disapproves. Fuck! FUCK! Just fuck me already!!!

Finally - FINALLY!! - he moved to the foot of the bed. He must have finished undressing. I couldn’t be sure, because I didn’t dare look at him. I felt so small, so pathetic, so worthless. I didn’t deserve to gaze upon him.

“Leeza.”

“Yes, Master,” I breathed, so glad to be able to say those magic words again.

“This is your first time with a Master.” As he spoke, he climbed on to the bed, between my legs. The nearness of him was driving me crazy.

“I do not expect you to give service as a slave should.” He lifted my legs on to his shoulders, and even that touch was exhilarating, excruciating.

“Just lie back. Let it happen.” Then his body was above mine. I turned my head and closed my eyes, terrified I might see his face without permission.

Then he felt IT brush against my thigh, his COCK - my whole body went rigid. I couldn’t breathe. His hand slipped down between our bodies, taking hold of himself. I lifted my own hands, clasping them behind my head, straining with frustration. Please, ram it inside me! Fuck me! Make me your slave!

And then - and then I felt the head against my engorged lips. I almost screamed. This was what I’d been waiting for!

Then he pushed into me, and I did scream. My climax ripped through me as he filled me – pleasure obliterating all thought. And it was only going to get better!

And then he was withdrawing, leaving a gaping, empty whole. “NO!” I shrieked, losing the most important part of me.

And then he was thrusting again, and I was complete once more, screaming from another mindblowing climax.

And so it went, each thrust driving me to another climax, each one greater than I’d ever felt before – each one greater than the last. I screamed myself hoarse, my body writhing helpless beneath him, speared on my Master’s cock!

And then suddenly his pace accelerated. He was pumping rapidly, and I was dying! My heart was bursting, my mind exploding with passion! But it wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t pass out! There was no escape! I was going to die! And I welcomed it. If that was what my Master wanted, then it was Right.

Then his body went rigid, and he groaned, and his sacred burning seed erupted inside of me. And with that heat flooding my body, every single nerve screaming pain and pleasure, erupted with in my body erupted the pleasure passed beyond mere pain, beyond sensation, into pure fact – as consciousness left my body, four glorious words were permanently inscribed in my brain: I AM A SLAVE!

That should have been the end of my story. In my craziest dreams – or nightmares – I could not have imagined what was to come. That this was had been merely the first step of a wild, wild journey. Let me tell you what happened next…