Jane (Collared and Chained)
Introduction:
She despised me until I became “The Master”
She shook her head silently, “On your knees then,” I insisted and down she went onto her filthy knees on the dusty floor of the the cellar I had made into her prison.
I ran my fingers through her filthy matted long blonde hair as I drew her head towards me, “You stink,” I said, and she did, for she had no bath for the fortnight she had been with me, her shoulders covered with tiny zits from the filth in her hair as she had gradually become filthier and filthier with dirt and dust now covering every part of her shapely body as she knelt naked before me, knowing that now all her clothes were gone all she had left to offer in exchange for her bread and water was her filthy disgusting body.
I extracted my tool from my fly with exquisite care and offered the moist tip to her lips, she opened her mouth wide for me, looked up at me with pleading eyes despite my orders to look away and she allowed me to pull her head towards me until my tip touched the back of her throat.
She winced, threatened to gag and then she relaxed and closed her lips around me and began to suck.
“What do you say to having Fuckslut painted across your forehead?” I asked.
She just sucked and ignored me.
“And fuck on one tit and slut on the other?” I asked.
She concentrated on sucking, “You’re getting good,” I admitted, “But you stink,” she ignored me and carried on sucking.
“Cat got your tongue?” I asked, a stupid comment as she was licking my shaft as she sucked me.
“Jane,” I said, a Freudian slip as she was called fuck-slut, “I’m cumming.”
She nodded gently and she barely flinched as I started pumping and pouring my cream down her throat.
Once she would have fought me but now she tried to smile, was it only two weeks, two weeks from party babe to filthy cock sucking slut, a naked slut with nothing, a hungry thirsty naked desperate slut, who sucked cock delightfully.
She had blue eyes, I liked that, and her straw blonde hair had honey blonde roots, “Do you think Fuck Slut should be in red or black,” I asked as I pulled out and let her lick me clean.
“Red, Master.” she said.
“Yes, good, and your filthy hair, shall I shave your head.” I asked.
“As you wish, master,” she said but she looked so sad and a tear welled in her eye and dropped leaving a trail of clean fair skin down her filthy dusty cheek.
I guessed she had lost track of time, although I tended to come at the same time each day, before and after work, but the dim red light remained on 24/7 and she seemed to sleep most of the time.
I thought she was hooked on drugs when I saw the tracks on her arms when I first brought her here, I thought she would scream the place down, not that anyone would hear, those seventeenth century craftsmen knew a thing or two about building good solid cellars but she was a casual user not an addict.
I decided it was that now or never moment and with a pounding heart I asked, “Fuckslut what would you like if you could have anything, anything in the world?”
“A bath.” she said and I felt a surge of relief.
“But fuckslut, I would lay you down and force my filthy cock up your tight little cunt if you didn’t stink so badly.” I warned.
“I’d still like a bath,” she said and she looked me in the eye like she knew she wasn’t allowed to do.
“Oh, are you trying to seduce me?” I asked, she smiled.
“Yesterday you promised a Big Mac for a fuck.” she reminded me, “I’m so hungry Master.”
“Are you asking me to fuck you,” I asked
“Yes,” she said.
“Begging?” I asked.
“Begging, Master,” she agreed.
“Twenty swats with the cat o nine tails would earn a Big Mac,” I reminded her.
“I’d get infected Master.” she said.
“So you would, then what would I do for a bit of fun, so a bath, a fuck, a big mac, I think we have a deal.” I agreed as I pulled up my zipper, “Shall we?”
“I’m chained to the wall Master,” she pointed out, I smiled, the wide leather collar I first buckled and padlocked around her throat when I stopped in a lay-by shortly after I first captured her when I picked her up at the nightclub in what she thought was a Minicab that she ordered, the wide collar attached to a long rusty iron chain which was in turn attached to a metal ring which I had securely concreted into the floor.
“And I have the key.” I added, and I reached in my pocket and fished it out, it took a second to turn it in the lock and she was free.
She didn’t move, she looked shocked, “You’re going to let me take a bath?” she asked incredulously..
“Oh yes, bathe, wash your hair, splash on the perfume and then one de luxe fuck,” I agreed, “And then and not before, one big mac burger.”
“Where?” she asked stupidly.
“In the Bathroom.” I explained, “And then in my bed, for the fuck that is, the kitchen would be more suitable for the food.”
“You’re joking?” she said, “You’re surely not going to let me go?”
“Bath, fuck, eat, that’s the deal.” I agreed, “I’m quite looking forward to it.”
“God, you’re looking forward to it, I thought I’d never see anything outside this hole.” she said and she forgot to say master. “Master,” she said eventually.
“Just a second,” I said and her face fell, “Stop at the top of the steps, I’ll find you some slippers.”
“Slippers?” she asked.
“Oh yes you’ll leave filthy footprints otherwise,” I explained, “ready?”
She followed through the first door and she seemed surprised that there were concrete steps leading up to another door, the one leading to the passage between kitchen and back door, perhaps she had thought I had a Castle not an old and somewhat isolated farm house.
I let her step out into the cold stone floored corridor with its stained floral wallpaper covered walls and nicotine stained low ceiling and then I ordered her to “Wait!”
She didn’t know what to do, the heavy old oak back door was right there enticingly close, but she was naked and filthy and, “Want to make a run for it?” I joked.
She shook her head sadly, “Probably a wise choice,” I agreed, “Slip these on,” I said as I handed her a pair of my old slippers.
She did as I suggested although the slippers were at least four sizes too large and she flip flopped her way along the passage way and up the stairs behind me, “Bathroom,” I said, and I opened the door for her, she stepped inside, “Hair, teeth, and smell nice,” I told her, “Half an hour!”
I gave her forty minutes, the hair dryer was working when I came back for her, “Wow!” I said as I saw her, she smiled although she had the bath towel clasped tightly around her, she smiled shyly, “Let me see.” I ordered.
“I shaved for you master.” she said quietly as she dropped the towel, she looked divine, not top heavy, but deliciously curved with her puppy fat burned up by her enforced diet.
“Yes, thank you,” I agreed, “Are you ready?”
She paused, “Yes,” she said, “Yes, Master.” so I took her hand and kissed it. she looked shocked. more shocked than the first time I slapped her face, or the first time I slapped her with the whip in fact, she couldn’t handle the tenderness, it scared her, I knew that, it was entirely different to how I treated her before and deliberately so.
“The bedroom is through here,” I explained, and I led her through into the bedroom, “Give me a moment.” I said and I let her sit on the bed, all pink and blonde in her fluffy towel while I slipped into the spare room and undressed to return in my dressing gown.
“Lie back,” I ordered, “Now you did wash carefully?” I asked, as I gently took the towel and eased it away from her, “Legs,” I said and as she eased her knees apart so I dipped my head and kissed her inner thigh.
“Excellent,” I complimented her, “Now the acid test.” I ordered and I kissed her soft pink cunny lips, she tasted clean, slightly salty, very slightly fishy and very very obviously excited.
“Very good, would you like your nipple clamps to help you?” I asked.
“Yes please Master.” she said.
“Well said,” I agreed, “But my darling, it is time, so allow me to bite you instead.” I dipped my head to each of her breasts in turn where I sucked he nipples lightly before my patience deserted me and I moved further up the bed, my knees between her knees as I grabbed my manhood and aimed him between her soaking wet lower lips.
I slid in to her slippery warmth smoothly and easily as she gasped delightfully, “Do you like that?” I asked.
“Yes!” she said “Yes Master!”
“Then hush, I want to rape your mouth with my tongue.” I warned her, as I grasped her cheeks and brought my mouth down upon hers.
She welcomed me, welcomed my tongue, welcomed my thrusts and as I moved within her her hands came to rest on my backside and then all too soon I was cumming.
“You didn’t milk me well enough earlier.” I told her.
“No Master, sorry Master,” she said quietly, “Can I have my burger now please?”
“Burger?” I queried, “Why do you want food when I’m offering sex?”
“Because we can have sex after,” she said reasonably, “Master.”
“Promise?” I asked.
“Yes Master.” she said.
“Then get dressed.” I ordered, “In the top drawer over there, it’s all there.” I explained, “And wipe yourself before you pull your panties up.”
“It’s all clean!” she exclaimed.
“Of course, you were sick all down it, remember.” I asked, she stared, she struggled to remember, she didn’t remember, she hadn’t recognised the bearded Taxi driver who picked her up at the night club as me, she hadn’t remembered anything until she sobered up and found herself collared and secured to the wall in my filthy dirty cellar with a clean shaved masked stranger tormenting her, bartering first her clothes and then her body, her mouth, for food and water.
“Oh, right,” she said but her eyes betrayed her confusion.
“Use the bathroom,” I ordered, “I’ll get the car.”
She stared wide eyed, “Car, oh please don’t leave me alone here.”
“I’ll lock you in the cellar,” I promised, “If you like.”
“I’m sorry Master, you must do what you like with me,” she replied hurriedly.
“Get cleaned up,” I ordered, and she rushed away.
I dressed, smart casual you could say, scruffy was a more accurate description, cord trousers open neck shirt, no tie, jacket pretty average but as always my short hair gave the game away that I was in the military, and then the moment of truth arrived.
My heart pounded, “Shall we go?” I asked as she emerged from the bathroom.
“We?” she asked.
“To Mc Donalds for your burger.” I reminded her.
“I thought,” she said
“No don’t think, just do what I say, so are you ready?” I asked.
“I don’t have a coat,” she said, suddenly embarrassed by the sluttish yellow minidress she had worn to the party a fortnight ago, an outfit covered by her long black coat when she left home that evening which now seemed a lifetime ago.
“No,” I agreed, “There’s one on the bed in the back bedroom, if that helps.” she looked very confused but she padded off down the corridor carrying her stylish black high heeled shoes.
“Yes,” she said, “Where did you get it?”
“Oxfam,” I said, “Master,” I reminded her.
“Oh,” she replied, well I wasn’t going to waste money on getting her coat dry cleaned when I could get a perfectly serviceable coat for £10 was I.
“Ready?” I asked and she nodded.
My palms were sweaty now, my heart pounded, “I suppose I had better dump this ridiculous mask.” I suggested.
“No!”she protested, “Please!” as if I was disfigured or something but my hand was at the clasp and the ridiculous cat woman like mask fell away, “I can’t identify you!” and as the mask came clear she exclaimed.
“Oh, Oh christ.” she said, “John, it’s you!”
“Yes,” I agreed, “Sorry!”
“What the hell did you think you were doing!” she ranted as the relief overwhelmed her, “I was so scared!” she admitted, “I thought.”
“What?” I asked.
“I thought, I don’t know what I thought but for gods sake John what’s got into you!” she railed.
“Do you want me to tear your clothes off and throw you back in the cellar?” I asked and the answer in her eyes shocked me, “You want the Master to don’t you?”
She nodded, “Sorry John, but usually you’re just so boring.” she said.
I almost nodded, “So how about we eat, and when we get back you can change into something old and then I can tear it off you and.”
“That’s boring,” she said, “The Master wouldn’t want to wait, and we can always eat later!”
I reached out and grasped her coat, the buttons flew as it pulled apart, her dress pulled up easily enough and her panties came down even more easily and as soon as I could wrestle my swelling cock from my pants I lifted her up and lowered her onto the tip of my rearing manhood.
“That’s better!” she smiled “Master,” she added as she sank down, “I think with some training you might actually make a half decent boy friend.”
“Master,” I said.
“Oh shut up John that’s getting boring,” she said, “When are you due back in Afganistan?”
“I’m not, recruiting office wallah me for a bit.” I admitted.
“Oh,” she said, “I thought, “Ohhhhhh! John! What’s got into you!”
I decided to walk her back to the bedroom still impaled on my cock and then when I laid her on the bed I just forgot about pleasing her and fucked her like one of the whores that abounded everywhere we went in Afganistan, long black robes with peep hole bras, stockings and suspenders underneath, and an improvised grenade up their backside if you were unlucky.
I was cumming before I realised.
“Oh my gosh John,” she said as I stopped pounding, “What’s got onto you?” she asked.
“Why the questions I thought you were hungry?” I queried.
“Give me two minutes, five if you have some cotton.” she replied.
We took it in turns in the bathroom, she went first and when I handed her some cotton and a needle she had sewn the buttons back on the coat before I was ready.
“Will you go to the police?” I asked as I opened the back door for her.
“Why?” she asked, “You could go to prison for years,” she said as she slid into my Range Rover and pulled on her seat belt, “Whereas if I made you marry me that would be a life sentence.”
“Right, the ultimate threat!” I chuckled, “Are you serious?”
“Why did you do it?” she asked, “Ok you kept asking me out and I kept telling you to fuck off.”
“You were throwing your life away,” I said, “Poor degree, no job, christ,” I started the engine, “Your father was tearing his hair out.”
“Oh my god, you asked his permission to propose?” she gasped, my expression must hae betrayed the truth, “Why should I settle down, don’t I deserve a good time first?” she asked.
“You gave half the men in Swindon a good time!” I reminded her, “Almost every black guy under fifty!”
“White guys are pathetic, you are pathetic.” she said.
“Do you want that Burger?” I asked.
“Ok, maybe you aren’t, but then you were anyway,” she added awkwardly, “Unless you hide behind your uniform or mask.”
She looked beautiful sitting there, the bone structure, the smile, and that self assurance that breeding and a half decent private school brings, she should have been sobbing her eyes out or trying to phone the police not chatting like we were old friends catching up.
We didn’t get to Mc Donalds, there was this pub with a carvery on the way, she suggested a drink, then a table for two and then she assembled this absolute mountain of food on her plate and sat down to eat it.
“You’ll get fat!” I chided.
“I will if you don’t stop screwing me bareback!” she said to the consternation of the old dear sitting opposite, “Eat up!”
“I say John, Jane, didn’t know you were an item,” a familiar voice boomed, Tony Mulholland, Lt Tony Mulholland from the regiment no less.
“Afraid so Tony,” she said lightly, “We’ve been screwing for absolutely ages so we thought we would try a date.”
“Oh!” Tony gulped as he blushed crimson, “I see, make myself scarce then,” he said.
She smiled at me suddenly, “Actually I had a chance to think last week,” she said, “Sort of a reality check.”
“Right,” I agreed, “And?”
“I decided I never want to see a nightclub, or get drunk or stoned ever again.” she said.
“Right,” I agreed.
“I was scared, but, I don’t know, there was something, it was as if you stopped short of hurting me,” she said, “And.”
“What?” I asked.
“I’ll tell you later, can I have a sweet and Coffee please?” she said enigmatically.
“Of course,” I smiled back at her, “My treat.”
“No. I’ll pay,” she said and she blushed, “Actually,” she admitted, “You called me Darling Jane when you were cumming, hardly the words of an axe murderer.”
We finished our meal and sat in the lounge bar for a while drinking non alcoholic wine until she asked, “Take me home.”
“Where to?” I asked as we climbed back into my Range Rover.
“Surely you remember where we live,” she sighed, “Turn left and,”
“Yes, all right,” I agreed.
“You could have locked me up and murdered me,” she said, “You have no idea how scared I was!”
“You were stoned out of your tiny mind,” I reminded her, “You didn’t say anything sensible until Tuesday.”
“Oh,” she said.
“That’s when you got hungry and agreed to sell your clothes for food.” I reminded her.
“I remember.” she said.
“And when you ran out of clothes that’s when we came to our arrangement.” I reminded her.
“Yes,” she said, “How could I forget?” and then she added, “At least you washed it first.”
“Don’t you hate me?” I asked.
“Well, I used to loathe you, you spineless worm but to be honest, I always liked strong men, men who know what they want,” she said.
“Oh?” I queried.
“I rather liked you playing the Master,” she said, “And I think with a bit of training you could make a half decent lover.”
“Right,” I agreed.
“Actually I did some thinking,” she said, “I’m twenty three, really it’s bit pathetic going clubbing every weekend, different man every night, one night stands, no regrets except you do wonder why they don’t want me in the morning.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “One has to grow up eventually.”
“Daddy and Mummy like you,” she said, “Were they in on this?”
“Ah, no actually,” I explained, “Although he did give permission to court you and they did tell me you needed taking in hand.”
“Court me. oh my god that’s positively Victorian, so why were you so sure I wouldn’t make a run for it and call the Police?” she asked.
“Too embarrassing,” I told her.
“Yes, far too embarrassing, but didn’t anyone miss me?” she asked.
“Oh no, one or two left messages, I replied and told them we were in Spain for a fortnight,” I explained, “The woman in the charity shop said you’re sacked by the way.”
“Bitch,” she said, “Well invite her over for drinks and you can rape her.”
“Jane!” I protested.
“We’ll get you an SS uniform and a decent whip, I’ll get a leather cat suit.” she insisted.
“But Jane!” I exclaimed.
“It’s up to you, John, Master, whatever,” she said, “I want a strong man remember.”
We were still arguing when we got home, “So Master tear my clothes off and take me!” she challenged.
“No, you undress properly and fold your clothes up nicely.” I countered.
“No!” she snapped.
“Very well then,” I replied.
“Wimp!” she said and then, “Aghhhh, John!” she protested as I grabbed her wrist and forced it up her back, then I grabbed the spare dog collar from the top of the kitchen cupboard and slipped it around her neck.
The handcuffs came as a surprise to her, and then as I secured her wrists and clipped them to her collar behind her back she relaxed, “Sorry,” she said, as I pulled her panties down, “I didn’t realise,” she added.
I took the felt tip pen from the top shelf and started to write, Slut across the left side of her forehead and then kcuf backwards across the right to get Fuck Slut spaced evenly.
It was easy to get her bra hanging from her arms and her dress over her head so I could kiss her breasts and explore her sex with my fingers, and then with some of the old dog leads from the bottom of the cupboard and various metal rings in the walls a secured her arms separately and undid one at a time so I could ease her clothes off, until finally I carried her her naked down to the cellar.
“Yes!” she said, but I set her down, and attached her wrists to the collar and the collar to a leash attached to a ring on the wall.
I wished her “Good night,” and made my way back to the kitchen.
I made her a sandwich, munched a piece of toast and went to bed to wait for her.
I must have dozed off because suddenly there was an iceberg sliding into bed with me.
“It took ages to realise you hadn’t used the padlocks,” she said, “Bastard.”
“That’s better that being called a wimp!” I agreed.
“All right you’re not a wimp,” she said, “For gods sake hold me and warm me up.”
“You’ll get the bedclothes dusty,” I protested.
“No I had a shower, the bloody water is cold!” she complained.
“Should have turned the heater on,” I told her as I took her in my arms, “Switch is outside in the passage,” I added as I eased her knees apart, “Red light tells you.” I said as I guided my straining penis into the soft warm wetness I felt between her legs., “It’s on.”
“Shut up and fuck me,” she said, “Master!”
“Mmmm,” I muttered, “So what do I call you now?”
“Fuckslut?” she asked.
“Fluffy,” I suggested.
“Yuck,” she said.
“Kitten,” I suggested.
“Um, Kitten, better than Pussy” she said and then we were lost in each other.
“Darling?” I tried.
“Yuck,” she replied, and everything went soft and fluffy and I was cumming again.
She was looking at me when I woke, “It’s lovely here,” she said, “I had a look round while you were snoring your head off, shall I move my stuff in?”
“Yes, if you like,” I agreed, “We can collect it after lunch.”
“Oh no, we will go for lunch, Mummy will be delighted to see you,” she insisted and she picked up the phone..
Quite how she went from Fuckslut to Fiancee in twenty hours or so is something I have yet to work out but in typical form she rang her mother to announce, “Hi Mummy, I’m getting married!” It was a good job I was sitting down or I might have keeled over.
“John of course,” she said, “You keep banging on about what a solid reliable chap he is,” she said, “No I’m not drunk!” she said finally and slammed the phone down.
“Oh well,” she said, “What exactly would you have done if I hadn’t played ball?”
“Got you drunk and dumped you in a back street in Bristol,” I said.
“Really? gosh I might have been gang raped,” she said, “That might have been fun!”
“Well you weren’t,” I reminded her.
“I do need a strong man, though John, you do understand?” she asked anxiously, “Someone I can respect.”
“I understand,” I agreed, “But I’ll get you to clean the Cellar up when you have a minute, oh,and you had better wash Fuckslut off your forehead before your mother sees it.” I suggested.
“Spoilsport!” she retorted.
I pulled the bed clothes away and eased my tool from my pyjamas and lay back, “Suck,” I said and she looked at me and then her mouth came down and she took my whole length like I had showed her.
She looked perfect, as she sucked away well bred, nicely curvaceous, obedient yet feisty, intelligent, well educated, she had a degree even if it was a 2.2 the perfect Army wife, and just what the Colonel ordered, “Can’t have unmarried Majors, Captain, grab yourself a wife if you’re serious about promotion.”
Maybe I’ll tell her what he said one day, maybe not.
