The Enslaving of anna

Chapter 11

I was quite satisfied with anna's progress. she proved to be brave and resilient, so much so that I felt continually compelled to raise the bar. Despite her many minor infractions during her daily routine — forgetting to keep her lips parted, sneaking a moment to sit in a chair, watching TV without permission, cheating on her diet with the occasional cracker, that sort of thing — she never complained about her punishments or begged off, even when she was sick and felt miserable. And she was always maddeningly honest about it; I could never catch her failing to reveal her misdemeanors. Even when she'd made a serious violation, like leaving the house without permission, she invariably confessed, sometimes tearfully, aware that she was condemning herself to a severe punishment, but doing it anyway and asking not to be spared what she deserved.

Nor did she ever fail to make a daily entry in her journal. In fact, those entries became so automatic to her that she seemed to forget that I read them from time to time. She often poured out her most intimate and passionate thoughts. Those moments of inner truth lay bare the unconditional quality of her love for me and her determination to please. The only thing she feared more than the extreme punishments I sometimes meted out was the possibility that one day I might find her unworthy and sell her.

It was a fine balancing act, keeping anna in line while letting her know she was loved. A slave must be able to depend on the unrelenting discipline of her Master or she will lose respect for Him. She must be absolutely certain in her mind that He will not tolerate the slightest deviation from the rules. If she detects any inconsistency, compassion or hesitation on His part in correcting her, she will, on some unconscious level, recognize it as a weakness and begin to test it. How much can she get away with? Disobedience, trifling at first, becomes belligerence and their relationship as Master and slave is doomed. On the other hand, all humans require some degree of nurturing or they become despondent, or angry, or rebellious, or suicidal — attitudes which are definitely undesirable in a sex slave. For this reason I was careful to introduce very small relaxations of certain rules in very gradual and selective increments so that the changes have come across to anna as rewards for her progress rather than softness on my part.

Perhaps the most humiliating of her training requirements was having to eat out of a bowl on the floor like a dog. Being the dedicated slave that she is, she did it without complaint, but the comments in her journal revealed how difficult it was for her to deal with it, how corrosive on her self esteem. Sometimes I would catch her silently weeping into her bowl. But that's its purpose, isn't it? To impress on the slave that her status is less than that of other humans. Nevertheless, it was a good place to start in making life a little less arduous for gutsy little anna.

"From now on," I announced one morning, "as long as you continue to improve in your adherence to the rules and your efforts to please me, I'm going to allow you to eat dinner at the table with a plate and utensils on Mondays, Thursdays and Saturdays. And, of course, on any day we have vanilla guests." I could see she was about to burst with happiness, so to temper her appreciation I added, "You will, of course, execute flawless table manners to prove you are worthy of such generosity. Any failure to do so will result in a choice of accepting severe punishment or a return to eating every meal out of a bowl on the floor. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

she crawled over and covered my shoes with kisses and tears.

she knew full well that I meant every word of my admonition and that it was inevitable she would fail in some ridiculous detail. But it meant so much to her to become human again at dinnertime, at least three times a week, that she gladly accepted the threat of "severe punishment"and the reality that it would happen sooner or later.

But she certainly did her best to delay the inevitable. It was amusing to watch her struggle to maintain perfect dining etiquette. she sat rigidly straight, a picture of genteel elegance despite her nudity. With delicate and minimal motion she would slice her meat, swap the knife and fork in her hands and lift a tiny portion of it to her mouth. she sipped her water as though it were a fine wine, and transported minuscule portions of broccoli and roasted new potatoes to her lips. At the slightest hint that I might be about to ask for something, she would put down her knife and fork and stare at me with those big blue eyes so as not to miss the smallest clue as to how to please me. I tested her rather nastily the first few times, asking for something, changing my mind, asking for something else, throwing it on the table in disgust, shouting my displeasure. she looked terrified, her voice trembled, but she never lost her cool. Later, during her evening examination, she apologized tearfully for her inadequacies and begged me to punish her as severely as I wished rather than strip her of her new privileges. I punished her, but only a little. I used a box I keep in the dungeon, the door of which is a stock with a hole for the head. I clamped it over her neck, shackled her hands behind her, bent her over and positioned her with her head inside the box. I caned her bottom a little, then left her there for a little over an hour. It doesn't sound like much, but if you're the least bit claustrophobic, the experience is pure hell. Even now at the mere threat of it she collapses and weeps in terror. I have no desire to endanger her sanity so I have not repeated that particular punishment.

I saved the actual "severe punishment" for her first real gaffe. It happened when, in her hurry to respond to one of my demands, she knocked her fork off the side of the plate and splattered tomato sauce all over the tablecloth. The look of horror in her eyes was priceless. Even better, she had another two hours after dinner to worry about just what that punishment would be. I could actually see the tension building in her eyes and her movements as she cleared the table and washed the dishes. I was tempted to stand and glare at her ominously, but she was clearly on the verge of coming apart. So I opted for a slightly kinder approach, but one that would jack up the fear factor.

"I want you to finish the dishes," I said sternly, "and be in the living room in the kneel up position for your evening inquisition precisely on time, seven o'clock. You will have with you a full account of your misbehavior for the day. You will also go to the peg-board at the back of the kitchen cabinet and extract a pair of handcuffs, a short length of chain, a padlock and a riding crop and present them to me at that time."

"Yes, Master," she whispered. Normally for these inquisitions she brought only her journal with the listing of her errors. The addition of the handcuffs and other hardware was a clear signal that this night would be dreadfully different. Let her stew on that, I thought.

She was, indeed, on her knees in front of me at precisely seven o'clock, holding out the required items in trembling hands. She kept her eyes fastened on the floor, as much out of fear of what she might read in my eyes as out of obedience to the rule. At my command she quickly recited the few minor flaws in her conduct that day: she masturbated a little while reading a book during a break and called the fish market without permission to check on the freshness of their haddock before making an authorized trip to buy it. Then she swallowed hard.

"And i committed a terrible offense at the table this evening. It was an accident, but i hit my fork and spattered tomato sauce on the table. It was inexcusably clumsy and i beg you accept my apologies for it, Master, and to punish me severely, if it pleases You."

"I warned you I would revoke your privilege to eat at the table if you failed to demonstrate you're worthy of it, didn't I?"

"Please, Master! i mean, yes, Master. Please may i speak, Master? Please!" her eyes bore into the rug as though she were willing a script to appear in it with the magical words that would save her precious few days a week at the table.

"Do you think I will not do what I warned you I would do?" I managed not to laugh but the poor girl was so distressed I thought she might pee on the rug. That, of course, would raise the punishment stakes to challenging new heights.

"No, Master! You said you would punish me severely, and I beg you to do so. Please don't take my table privilege away, Master! Please! You said you would give me a choice of that or severe punishment. Please, i choose the severe punishment! If it pleases you. Please!"

"When I said 'severe' punishment, I meant really severe . The suffering will be immense! Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Oh yes, Master! i deserve to be punished in any way you see fit. Make it as painful as i can bear. No! Make it more painful than i can bear! Make me scream until i pass out, then again, over and over! Make it last for days! But please, let me keep eating at the table, even just one or two times a week. i'm a bad and unworthy slave, and you are my dear Lord and Master whom i love and obey and whose decision i will always accept, but i pray from the depths of my heart that it will please you to allow me that one mercy!"

Before I could respond to that remarkable speech, she had fallen on my feet and was planting wet kisses all over them. She even pulled off my slippers and was kissing and licking each one of my toes separately. It was such a delightful sight and sensation that I let her keep it up for a few minutes, but when the little vixen began devouring mouthfuls of toes and sucking on them, I started to get hard. It was time to take control again.

"Kneel up!"

she sprang up to her knees instantly, her eyes shut tight, dreading the verdict. Either way she would lose, but she had sealed her own fate.

"Very well, your table privileges will remain as before. you will instead, by your own choice, be severely punished. That punishment will be in two stages. The first part will begin now. The second part will take place this weekend at a party you will arrange for a number of our lifestyle friends. you will do all the work of inviting the guests, preparing the refreshments, and acting as hostess. In addition, you will prepare the instruments for the evening's entertainment in which you will also be featured. The entertainment will consist of your public torture and humiliation. And I assure you, it will be more severe than anything you have ever experienced or imagined."

I let that sink in for a few seconds. her initial smile of relief had darkened at the mention of public torture and humiliation. What had she had agreed to? To help ramp up her anxiety, I handcuffed her wrists behind her back, wrenched her arms up until she whimpered and connected the handcuffs chain to her collar with the spring clips to hold them there. I grabbed a fistful of her hair, which is unusually thick for a blonde, and pulled her to her feet. she mewed from the pain as I shoved her along ahead of me and down the stairs to the dungeon. A thick bit gag strapped into her mouth eliminated any attempt she might have made to complain. Now she could only grunt and drool.

I made her stand and watch as I fashioned a noose out of a heavy length of hemp rope, put it around her neck and threaded the other end through a ceiling pulley. Stationing her directly under the pulley, I pulled her up until she had to stand on her tiptoes to avoid strangling. Now she had two things to worry about: the intensifying pain in her shoulders and arms, and the burning in her calf muscles as she strained to keep the noose from tightening. I decided she needed a distraction and selected a heavy leather belt from the collection of toys on the wall. Walking slow circles around her, I began striking her rhythmically with the belt, mixing medium and hard blows. Her breasts, belly, thighs, bottom, back, calves — no part of her from her ankles to her shoulders was spared. Angry red bands of insulted flesh covered nearly every inch of her body, and tears flowed down her cheeks to mingle with the drool from her open mouth.

Suddenly she began hopping on the toes of her right foot as the left leg stabbed wildly in the air. Then her right leg collapsed as well and the noose tightened around her neck. Terror filled her eyes as she tried desperately to inhale. Obviously, her over-stressed calf muscles had cramped. I released the rope, removed the noose and watched her draw in life-giving air around the gag. With her breathing restored she began stamping her feet and flinging herself about, clearly in terrible pain from the cramps. I took her arm and forced her to walk around the dungeon in circles until she calmed down and was able to signal me that the cramps were gone. I removed the handcuffs to give her shoulders and arms a chance to recover from their full-nelson position and prepared the next element of her punishment.

I dragged a cage to the center of the room. It was about three feet square and made of iron bands. On occasion I had locked anna inside it, sometimes with her hands and feet sticking through the spaces between the bands and secured in place with straps or metal clamps. This time I ordered her to lie on top of it, face up. Using leather straps, I fastened her ankles to the bottom corners on one side and her wrists to the opposite bottom corners. This forced her body into an uncomfortable arch on top of what amounted to an iron grate. I attached fierce clamps to her nipples and ran cords from the clamps to the rings at the side of her bit gag, adjusting them so that she had to had to hold her head up or its weight would tug painfully at her tits. She looked at me balefully, her brow wrinkled as she struggled against the rapidly mounting sting in her nipples and the growing pain of the metal cage edges digging into her back. Soon her neck muscles would begin to tremble and burn, forcing her to let her head fall back and escalate the torture to her breasts.

"I'm going to leave you here to contemplate your choice of punishments," I told her. Then I couldn't resist rubbing it in. "Remember, this is only the first part. The second part will be much worse. I'll come back in an hour or so to see how you're doing."

she made small noises through her bit gag, then squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on dealing with what couldn't be avoided. An "hour or so" of suffering.

I kept an eye on her with the monitor system, but her agony was so heart rending that I decided to end it in just thirty-five minutes. I'm sure it felt like two hours to her. she was crying and choking on her own drool when I re-entered the dungeon. I released the nipple clamps quickly so she could enjoy the tremendous surge of pain that causes. she screamed through her gag, arching up away from the cage, then settled slowly back down, weeping quietly as the pain subsided, waiting for me to undo the straps around her ankles and wrists. I helped her to her feet, but she couldn't stand on her own. I had to help her up the stairs. I even let her sleep in my bed that night, a necessary kindness to show that I love her and care about her, regardless of my obligation to punish her.

 

anna's journal, October 3

All week i've been making arrangements for my own execution. That's what it feels like, anyway. The first part of my punishment was hard, but Master promises me that this second part will be much, much harder. i've thrown up three times since Monday. Master says it's just nerves and if i were a patient he'd prescribe a tranquilizer. But of course, i'm not His patient; i'm His slave. He says it's like being a condemned prisoner: the anticipation, the knowing what's going to happen and when it's going to happen is part of the punishment. i'm supposed to be nervous. And believe me, i am! my stomach is constantly in knots. Which is ironic because the whole reason i agreed to this was so i could eat three meals a week at the table. Now i sit there and barely touch it because my insides are so twisted up i'm afraid i'll vomit.

At the same time, i'm excited, crazy as that sounds. The fear makes me all itchy and tingly down below and i want to masturbate so badly i can hardly stand it. But i know Master must give me permission, so i don't. Sometimes it gets so bad i have to do it anyway, and then Master has to punish me, but i've been really trying to be good this week. Maybe if i'm really, really good, Master will go a little easier on me Saturday. Oh God, i hope so! And yet, perversely, there's another part of me that hopes not.

So far I've sent out eight invitations to couples from the Iron Collar Club and received six acceptances. Master Tom Atkins and slave kristina were first on my Master's list, which is appropriate because i've know them from the beginning of my training. They were in on my very first "public" punishment. Master Tom said He wouldn't miss this for the world. Master Jason Moore accepted right away, too, and He's bringing both His slaves: oriana and mya. Then there were our companions from that unforgettable boat trip to Manassas Island: Dr./Master Jake Lorenz and his wife/slave julie, as well as Dr. Jonathan and Kelly Howells, and Eric Decker with his wife Tori. Rounding out the acceptances were two more full-time Master/slave couples: Blaine Stanovski with slave jessika, and Logan Kapler with His newest acquisition, tatyana.

Under His gruff, burly exterior Master Blaine is a sweetheart. He's very strict with jessika but always entirely fair, just like my own dear Master. They're in their late forties so He keeps her hair styled appropriately short and cute. Like my own Master, He makes her color it a bright blonde. jessika's pretty and sexy but a little chunky, which must be what Master Blaine likes because He doesn't make her diet.

Master Logan is another kettle of fish. He's tall, lean and has a very ugly temper. He keeps poor tatyana rail thin. i've never seen her eat anything more fattening than lettuce. she's scared to death of Him, too, but i don't feel too sorry for her. she knew perfectly well what she was getting into. she's Ukrainian and they met on the web, some kind of an international dating site. she's 23 (to His 48) and about 5' 6" with long, dark brown hair, huge gray eyes and endless legs. Gorgeous! she was 22 when they began e-mailing each other and admits He made no secret of what He wanted in a woman. she must have had a pretty good idea of what her life with Him would be like when she agreed to let Him pay her way over here from Ukraine because she'd signed a preliminary slave contract. she'd dabbled a little in bdsm in her home town of Dnepropetrovsk (yes, it's a real place; she spelled it out very slowly for me) and was all excited to be tamed and trained by a real Master. Kinda like me, i guess. Well, she got her wish. Master Logan is not just strict, he's truly sadistic. He makes her sleep on the hard floor with no pallette or pillow and a one-foot chain locking her collar to the foot of the bed. He keeps her naked all day except for a mean black corset which he cinches so tight around her waist it's a wonder He doesn't snap her in two. He also makes her wear shoes with punishing four-inch heels, locking them to her feet and ankles with straps so she can't take them off. To top it off, he attaches thick chains between her wrist cuffs, then down to her ankle cuffs and up to her collar, securing them with padlocks. That's to make sure she can't put on clothes and leave the house. Imagine trying to do housework in ultra high heels and heavy chains that keep you from extending your hands above your shoulders or below your hips. Makes going to the bathroom kinda tricky, too, especially since He canes her viciously if she doesn't keep herself clean. It also means she has to plan ahead every morning, getting down everything she needs for the day's meals from the upper cupboards before He locks the chains on, because after that she can't reach them. Pity her if she forgets something! And the things He does to her when He exhibits her at the Club! She's always in more pain than any of us. God knows how terrible her actual punishments must be! But Master specifically ordered me to invite "Master Logan Kapler and His slave," and He accepted.

So it looks like my punishment party will consist of thirteen guests plus Master and me. Or maybe the correct wording is "Six Guests and Their slaves." Except that Kelly and Tori aren't really slaves, just bottoms. Don't know what the proper form is. Have to ask Master. i do know that only Masters and Mistresses are acknowledged at the door and served at the table. we slaves and bottoms are invisible and silent until permitted otherwise. At dinner we usually sit on the floor beside our Masters to eat, if we're permitted to eat at all. Not that Master hasn't taken me to dinner engagements and banquets where everyone was invited to the table and we all chatted amiably, but that's always because vanilla folks are present. i've also been to parties where no one spoke to me all evening and i was never given permission to look at anything but the floor. It's a truly humbling experience that puts a slave firmly in her place. Then there are the parties where i've been handed around as a sex toy, which is humbling in a wholly different way!

i don't think i'll be allowed any such use Saturday night. In fact, by last Wednesday i was so distraught i did a really stupid thing. i actually asked my Master what sort of punishment i might expect. He told me i'd find out soon enough, but that every time i ask such a question He will double what He's already planned.

Today i showed him the menu i've planned for Him and His guests: a choice of grilled tenderloin steak with peppercorns and basil, or pan fried salmon with dill. He instructed me to create some extra special hors d'oeuvres, a light dessert and to order a case of champagne. He said i could expect to serve the champaign, hors d'oeuvres and entree myself, but that the other slaves would serve the dessert and after dinner drinks because i would be indisposed.

So you see, i don't know what's going to happen to me, only when it will start. i'm very scared, but i'm also terribly excited.