Slave Ella Ch. 01 - The 5/2 Diet

I awoke in the four-poster bed in the large master bedroom of my house in Dorset. I spent some moments waking up fully, then swung myself out of bed, crossed to the window and drew back the curtains. It was a beautiful summer's morning outside, and as always I drank in the view out to rolling chalk hills, cloud-shadows moving across them like stains. No other human habitation was visible, just hills, trees, and a small river winding through the landscape. One of the major attractions of the house - apart from its size - had been its isolation and abundance of living space, including a very large cellar.

I do not wear any night-clothes when I sleep, so I padded naked into the en-suite bathroom, my bare feet cold on the granite floor tiles, and started a bath running.

While the bath filled, I walked down to the library on the ground floor. As I opened the door and entered, slave Ella stirred in her cage, the shackles at her wrists and ankles clanking slightly. The cage was spacious, long enough for her to stretch out fully and wide enough to shackle her as she was now; arms above her head cuffed to the cage itself, legs spread slightly, each cuffed to a corner of the cage so there was no chance she could rub her thighs together and achieve an unsanctioned orgasm. She fully understood that I controlled her pleasure, and that her only purpose in life was my pleasure and not her own but still, sometimes after many days of orgasm denial she would try and bring herself off, even though she knew the severe punishment that would follow if she were caught.

Ella was 35, with pale skin and raven hair. Her eyes, when they were visible, were jade green, and carried a look of desperate submission sure to inflame the dominant sensibilities of man or woman. She had full breasts with large, dark areolas. Her pubic mound was, of course, bare, and as I ran my eyes over her I noticed a slight stubble. Soon it would be time to shave her again, or perhaps let the hair grow slightly longer and pull it out with wax strips. Ella didn't enjoy the sudden tearing pain of pubic hairs being pulled out by the root - which meant, of course, that I did. I fed her carefully, so that she didn't gain any weight - she wasn't exactly slim, but not by any means overweight either.

She was naked except for a blindfold, a small overnight ballgag, her slave collar - which she never took off, even in the shower, except with express permission - thigh-high black sheer stockings and black patent high-heel shoes. She was laying so that I could not see the buttplug she always wore, but I knew it was there; she would never have dared to take it out without permission, even if she could.

"Good morning, Ella," I said. She mumbled something around her gag which might have been "Good morning, master".

I undid the cuffs which kept her hands above her head in the cage, undid her ankle cuffs, and opened the cage door.

"Out," I commanded, and she slowly turned around in the cage and came out head first, on all fours, her breasts swaying beneath her, moving carefully as she could not see where she was going. I re-attached the cuff chains at wrists and ankles, selected a twisted leather leash from the eight hanging on the wall by her cage, and attached it to her collar.

"Crawl," I commanded, and led her out of the library, up the stairs, and through the bedroom to the bathroom.

I put her in the corner, kneeling, arms cuffed before her, hands resting on her thighs, palms upwards. I looped the leash around her neck - usually I would have put it in her mouth to hold, but she still wore the ballgag.

I lowered myself into my bath, luxuriating in the warm water. After a while I soaped myself, then commanded Ella "Come to the sound of my voice." Carefully she shuffled across the cold stone floor until she knelt by the bath.

"Give me your hands," I instructed, and she instantly obeyed. I placed a sponge in one and bar of soap in the other. "Soap my back," I told her, and she did as she was instructed, rubbing the soap against the sponge and then lathering my back, all by feel. Then I rinsed off and got out. I dried myself - often her job, but not today - and led her by the leash into the bedroom, to the side of the bed. I crossed to a corner of the room where an old record player sat on a small Regency table, riffled through a selection of vinyl records, and the sounds of Mozart's The Magic Flute filled the room. Ella began to whimper gently - she knew what classical music meant.

I instructed her to lie on the bed on her back, and attached each ankle and each wrist to tether points on each of the corner posts of the four-poster bed, put there for just that purpose. I opened a drawer of the bedside table and took out three wooden clothes pegs.

Ella's nipples were semi-erect - she spent her life in a constant state of denied sexual arousal - but I stroked and pinched them until they were fully hard, then placed one clothes peg on each, eliciting two gasps. In the same way I licked my fingers and caressed her clitoris until that too became engorged and excited, then put a clothes peg on that too, along its length: she grunted in pain through the gag as the peg clamped onto her most sensitive part.

Then I left the room, closing the door behind me, the strains of Mozart becoming muffled.

I spent twenty minutes getting dressed in blue cinos, black brogues and a short-sleeved summer shirt, and catching up on my emails and the day's news online in the library. The distant music ended, but I waited another five minutes or so before returning to the bedroom, now silent apart from Ella's deep breathing, a mix of pain and arousal.

I walked to a cupboard in the bedroom, opened both its doors. Hanging there were a variety of whips, canes, lashes, paddles, cat-o-nine-tails, and the cupboard itself contained a variety of dildos and vibrators of various sizes, plugs, hitachi - everything that could be used to bring pleasure and inflict pain. I selected a leather lash, a dozen strips of black weather well-worn and soft from long use, and crossed back over to the bed.

Ella writhed on the bed, trying to escape the torment of the wooden pegs on her nipples and clitoris, but of course there was no escape. I crossed to the record player, flipped the record, and once again beautiful music filled the room. Then I crossed back to Ella, undid the ballgag and unclipped the pegs from her nipples. As the blood flowed back into them she squealed in pain.

"What do you say?" I demanded.

"Th- thank you, master," she replied, turning her blindfolded head towards my voice.

I stroked her nipples, bringing gasps of pleasure from her. Then I said "After each stroke you will count it and say 'Thank you master, may I have another'. Is that clear?"

"Yes master," she replied. She couldn't see the lash in my hand, but she knew from experience what was coming, just not what instrument of correction I would use.

I brought the lash down hard across one of her breasts and Ella took a sharp breath.

"One. Thank you master, may I have another?"

"Yes you may," I replied and lashed her other breast.

"Two, thank you master. May I have another?"

After thirty lashes her breasts were pink and glowing, her nipples rock-hard and jutting from their soft mounds.

"I think that's enough for now," I said. I reached down and wiggled the peg which I had left on her clit. "Ow!" she said, but made no further complaint; she knew it wouldn't do any good.

"Now it's time for your breakfast," I told her. I undid the cuffs from the corners of the four-poster and made her kneel on the floor, arms cuffed behind her back, legs apart, the peg on her clit trailing the floor, causing exquisite agony every time it moved.

"Open," I instructed, and she opened her mouth wide. I unzipped my cinos and took out my cock, hard from the pleasure of causing so much pain. I put it in her mouth.

"Suck," I ordered.

To maintain her figure I had put Ella on the 5/2 diet, so that for 2 days of the week she received no food. On those days her only nutrition came - pun intended - from semen, administered orally. Today was one of those days.

Ella was an expert cocksucker - as she should be, given all the practice she'd had. Sometimes I took her to sex clubs and chained her on her knees in a corner beneath a sign saying "Use my mouth", watching as any man or woman who took the fancy made Ella suck or lick them to orgasm while I enjoyed myself with other partners. I never blindfolded her on such occasions; the look of defeated degradation in her eyes as she was made to suck cock after cock, lick cunt after cunt, was quite delicious. Sometimes a queue formed before her, men standing in line stroking their cocks to full arousal as they waited their turn, women playing with their clits in anticipation: white cocks and cunts, black ones, asian ones; small ones, medium ones, large ones, some cocks so large poor Ella could barely fit them into her mouth, her lips stretched to a submissive O as enormous members thrust mercilessly in and out. I let her flip a coin before going to the sex club to see whether her hands would be free or bound besides her; if the coin-toss came up wrong she couldn't even use her hands to moderate the thrusts, helplessly at the mercy of strange men to use her mouth as it pleased them, without restraint.

She had nobody to blame but herself - she had flipped the coin. I had instructed her that after she had swallowed each load or brought each woman to orgasm she was to say "Thank you, sir" or "Thank you, madam" to reinforce her worthlessness and desire to serve and be used. She would often service more than a dozen men in an evening and as many women, sometimes even two dozen, and by the end of it her face, lips and hair would be caked with dried cum. Some women preferred her like this, grinding their cunts against her sticky, caked face as she lapped at their cunt lips and clits, bringing them off while she remained unfulfilled - she was never allowed to orgasm herself on such occasions; she was there to be used, an object and nothing more.

Her hands cuffed behind her back, she gobbled hungrily on my swollen cock, her head bobbing quickly up and down, saliva dripping from her chin. I felt her tongue lapping along the underside of my cock, as I had taught her. After ten minutes of this, as I felt my orgasm approaching, I grabbed her hair and thrust faster and faster, ramming myself into her mouth and down her throat, jerking myself off with her head. With a final grunt I came, thrusting deeply into her throat, holding her head against my body, balls-deep, her cheeks ballooning as I pumped hot sticky jism into her mouth and down her throat, Ella swallowing rapidly and breathing quickly through her nose not to choke. "Catch every last drop, you worthless cum whore," I snarled, "You know what will happen if you spill any."

"Yes, master," she said indistinctly, forming the words around my cock as she swallowed over and over to catch every drop.

When I had emptied my balls I kept my cock in her mouth. "Keep sucking," I instructed, "Suck me til I'm clean."

"Yes master," she repeated, and kept sucking and licking until at length I withdrew my member and zipped myself back up.

"This can go back on, I think," I said, replacing the ballgag and strapping it tight behind her head, "Until I need to use your mouth again."

As a small sign off mercy I reached down and unclipped the peg from her clit; she actually screamed in pain, which to my ears was sweeter than the Mozart.

"Now, back to your cage'" I told her, leading her out of the bedroom, carefully down the stairs and into the library. She re-entered her cage and I cuffed her again as I had found her that morning, arms above her head, legs slightly spread. She had remained blindfolded the entire time - as she had been for two days now, and as she would be until that evening, when I had plans for her. I amused myself for five minutes by stroking her clit, fingering her cunt and jiggling her puttplug until her breathing grew heavy and I knew she was approaching orgasm, then I stopped, stood up and closed the door of the cage. She made a small mewing sound of frustration and disappointment that she would once again be denied but really she shouldn't have been surprised - she knew she would have to do a lot more than one blowjob and endure a lot more than thirty tit-lashes before she was allowed to come.

"I suggest you rest and gather your energies," I said; "I have some guests coming over this evening to use you, so it's going to be a long night. Between now and then I intend to come and stroke your cunt every hour on the hour to keep you on the edge of orgasm but unfulfilled. By the time I'm finished with you you'll do anything to be allowed to come. But then," I corrected myself, "You'll do anything you're told anyway..."