A Mistress and Her Slave Ch. 01

Wanted: Male Slave

20-35, reasonably attractive, reasonably fit, NS/ND. Your attitude will be your most important trait. You will live in, 24/7. Please familiarize yourself with the dictionary definition of "slave." This is not about your fantasy or your pleasure. Serious inquiries only. Attach photograph.

The responses were more than Laurel had anticipated. Many she could weed out from their inappropriate tone, many more from the pictures. To those she wished to see, she sent the briefest of replies: "3391 Palomas Dr. 8 PM." So far there had been six. None had passed her first test. She began to wonder if anyone would be up for her particular challenge.

Gradually, as she'd grown into adulthood, Laurel had come to accept that she was not a loving person, that compassion and caring, at least on the level required by a functional relationship, took more energy than she was willing to put forth. And yet her dark desires had only grown in strength as well, something else she had struggled to come to terms with but by now, at 28, had fully embraced. Few of the men she'd dated had embraced her kinkiness wholeheartedly. Even the so-called "submissives" she'd found on local alt personals were more interested in seeing her in tight leather or rubber, of having their own fantasies fulfilled, than they were in actually serving her. In the last year or so, she'd satisfied herself entirely with vibrators and pornography. Not that either of those were entirely satisfying.

When the doorbell rang precisely at 8, Laurel was pleased. Through the peephole she saw an average-looking man, perhaps a bit taller than most, skinny without being gaunt, medium-length wavy brown hair, and a frightened look in his eyes. Not too frightened, she thought, but just frightened enough. She opened the door.

"Jared, I presume?" The man nodded without speaking. Good again, Laurel thought.

Jared felt his cock begin to swell in his pants at the sight of this woman. Her straight black hair, pulled back into a tight ponytail, accentuated the paleness of her face. Her eyes were a very light blue, almost white. She looked more than a little like a vampire, her dark red lipstick accentuating the effect. She was slender but with fairly large breasts and, to his eyes, a perfect curve from her waist to her hips. She stepped aside and ushered him in.

She led him to the living room with a simple, "Follow me" and sat herself on the couch. He remained standing, awkwardly. Good again. And now for the first test.

"Let's see how well you follow directions," she said. She slid a small glass across the coffee table toward Jared. "Masturbate into that." Invariably, the response from previous candidates had been something like, "What? Right here?" In each case, Laurel had terminated the interview then and there. She felt her pulse quicken when Jared, without the slightest hesitation, dropped his pants, picked up the glass, and began to stroke his rapidly-stiffening member. While his behavior pleased her the most, she was also happy at his size. A bit longer than what she'd usually experienced, although the girth seemed about average. Perfectly serviceable, she thought.

Jared's arousal was already at a fever pitch from the situation he found himself in, and Laurel's attentive eyes upon him only pushed him further along. In just under a minute, he was spurting warm semen into the glass.

"Squeeze it all out," Laurel commanded. When the last drop had been wrung from Jared's still-hard phallus, she issued her next test. "Now, pour it into your mouth, but do not swallow until I tell you to." She expected him to balk, at least momentarily, but almost as quickly as she said it, he complied. She rose and approached him. At five-foot-six, she realized, she would not be able to see clearly into his mouth, as he stood a solid six feet in height. "On your knees," she said softly. Again, without a moment's hesitation, he complied. "Show me." He opened his mouth. Laurel felt a warm tingle in her nether parts as she saw the creamy white liquid coating his tongue and teeth. "Very good. Now swallow." Again, his compliance was exemplary. She slapped him hard across the face.

"Thank you," he said quietly. At this she stiffened.

"What?" she asked.

"Thank you." Laurel slapped him again, harder this time.

"Did I ask you to speak?" Jared shook his head. "Then do not do so," she continued. "Now, why do you think I slapped you the first time?"

"I don't know."

"Guess."

"You wished to."

"True. But that is not the only reason. I wanted to illustrate a point. You have, up to this point, apart from your unwanted interjection a moment ago, done exactly as I have asked, without hesitation or question. Your behavior thus far has in fact been magnificent." She paused; Jared said nothing, made no sound, did not even look at her. "I wanted you to be aware that even if that is the case, I will subject you to pain. Granted, this pain will be more severe in intensity and duration when I am displeased. But even when you make me deliriously happy, should you prove capable of doing so, I will hurt you. Your pain is primarily for my pleasure, and only secondarily to teach you proper behavior. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"Can you cook?"

"Yes."

"Can you iron?"

"Yes."

"Show me." Laurel pointed toward an ironing board in the corner, upon which a rumpled silk blouse sat. She was pleased that he made no effort to pull up his pants, but instead hobbled over to the ironing board with them still around his ankles.

The shirt turned out serviceably, though not perfect. Still, all things considered, she felt like Jared had the makings of a excellent slave.

"Where do you live?" she asked.

"I have a small studio apartment near Koreatown."

"Are you in a relationship?"

"No."

"Have you been in the past?"

"Yes."

"Any D/S relationships?"

"No."

"Why do you want this?"

"May I speak freely?"

"Please," she said, returning to her seat on the couch as Jared stood before her, still naked from the waist down.

"I'm recently divorced. There's no single reason for it. In fact, it was fairly amicable as far as those things go. But among other issues, our sex life was very...plain. And very much not to my liking. As time went on, I could only get aroused so long as I was fantasizing about being dominated, something she would not do, at least not beyond a very basic point."

"I am not going to dominate you, Jared. You are going to serve me. There is a distinct difference, and one that I hope you appreciate."

"That's just it. It is the ultimate domination. I want nothing of free will. My choices only seem to make my life worse as it goes on. I want someone else to make those choices for me."

Laurel nodded slightly. She understood, and even more, she felt this was a good place for Jared's head to be at coming into the situation.

"Do you work?"

"Yes. Clerical stuff."

"Parents?"

"Dead."

"Friends?"

"A few. I don't get out socially much."

"Anything you feel you can't leave behind?"

"No."

"Pets?"

"No."

"Strip," she said, and watched him with satisfaction as he removed the rest of his clothes and took his pants from around his ankles. "Turn, slowly." He did so. His body was nothing spectacular. Relatively shapeless, thin, no well-defined muscles. A slight paunch, just enough to let her know he wasn't vain. A little hairier than she might have liked, but all things considered, she though, he would do.

"Here is what I propose," she said. "You will live here. You will perform every domestic chore. Cooking, cleaning, vacuuming, laundry, ironing, folding, dusting, grocery shopping, everything. You will perform it all to the utmost of your abilities. The yard is taken care of by gardeners. If there are things that need professional attention—plumbing or electrical issues, say, beyond your ability, you will deal with the appropriate people to get such issues resolved. Understood?"

"Yes."

"You will call me 'Mistress' or 'Mistress Laurel.' Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"You will, at all times in my presence, remain fully nude, unless I give specific directions to the contrary. You will have no access to or contact with friends or family, unless I give specific directions to the contrary. You will not masturbate unless told to do so. You will be monitored at all times via video cameras. You will serve my sexual needs at my discretion, whenever and wherever and in whatever way I desire, without hesitation. I reserve the right to engage in sexual activity with other people of my choosing. If I desire it, you will also participate with these additional parties, performing as I see fit and regardless of the other parties' gender or appearance. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"In exchange, I will provide you with shelter, food, and clothing. Your room will contain a computer with internet access (whose usage will be monitored – no pornography unless I command it), a TV and blu-ray player, an assortment of reading material. You may bring with you what possessions you wish, limited to four bankers' boxes. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"There will be no restrictions on what I may command you to do. You will have no safeword. This is not a D/S relationship. This is ownership. You will be my slave, and all that that entails. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Excellent. Let me say that you will come to no lasting physical harm, nor will your life be threatened, although you may feel it to be at times. Finally, we have a problem whose resolution I do not see. Legally, there is nothing you can sign which will make you my slave. Legally, I cannot keep you here against your will. Which means, essentially, you can leave whenever you want, that fact of which undermines exactly what we both appear to want. Now, as far as I can see, this only works as long as it, well, works. For both of us. If you don't want to be here, I don't want you as my slave. And if I no longer want you to serve me, I would assume the benefits for you would be equally removed. So we have only our words to each other. What do you say to that?"

"I give my consent to all these conditions, and any others you may impose, freely and cheerfully, Mistress. I will serve at you whim, so long as you desire, and will do nothing to undermine the rigid distinctions between our relative positions."

"Excellently stated, slave. Shall we begin tonight?"

"As you desire, Mistress."

"Follow me." Laurel led him down a hallway to her master bedroom. From a large cedar chest, she removed a leather hood. This she placed over his head, locking it into place around his neck. His eyes were covered, but his mouth exposed. Next she inserted a large rubber ball gag into his mouth, securing it tightly over and behind the hood.

"Take three steps forward," she said. He did so, and as he finished the third step he could feel the bed just above his knees. "Lie down on your stomach." After he was prone, she secured tight leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles, and then bent his, pushing his ankles up towards his ass. She rather expertly connected each wrist to its opposite ankle via the cuffs d-rings and some hardware, and then rolled him onto his side. His cock, semi-erect, stiffened instantly at her touch. She thought about taking him into her mouth, but decided he didn't warrant such pleasure yet. She wrapped a leather cock ring around the base of his balls, snapping it tightly into place to ensure his erection would remain constant. From her chest, she took a large vibrating butt plug. She lubed it up carefully, spreading some of the cold gel around his asshole, and then slowly inserted it. His muffled grunts pleased her ears, and she could feel herself grow wetter and more aroused. Finally, she took a thick leather strap and worked it underneath his hip on the bed, securing it tightly around his ass, holding the butt plug inside him, and then turned on the vibration to its maximum level.

It had been a long time since a man had shared her bed, and she missed the warmth and the companionship. She removed her clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, tending to her teeth, brushing out her hair, and completing her usual pre-bed routine. Jared was gently squirming as the plug throbbed away at his prostate. She lay beside him, taking her favorite vibrator from the nightstand drawer. As aroused as she was, it didn't take long for her to come, and she let forth a long series of moans and sighs as she did so. It was easily the biggest orgasm she'd had in years. She looked at the naked body beside her, at the drool pooling on the sheets, and the erect cock which twitched now and then, and then she switched off the lights and said, "Good night, slave." At that a faint whimper escaped his mouth. She slept as soundly as she ever had.