A kinky story written by omegaboi | Chapter 3
I stood naked by the door staring at the detritus of my old life, my shaved skin tingling with vulnerability and my slavecock throbbing with the joy of submission. I was nervous about what was to come but I was also excited, and I wanted to fall to my MASTER’s feet to press my tongue into the hard leather of HIS boots.
I knew however that I must wait silently and obediently for my orders. I had acknowledged that I had no right to reach for my MASTER, and did not even to deserve to look at HIM without permission. From now on I would be HIS inferior subhuman gimp pig, and would beg for the honour of worshipping and serving HIM. Any contact between us would be entirely on HIS terms, and I would cherish every moment of torture and tenderness as a gift.
‘Alright, boi’, HE said. ‘Let’s get started.’ I heard my MASTER move quickly across the room, accompanied by a faint jingling sound, and the next thing I knew a length of thick rubber was encircling my neck. I realised that it was a collar and my breath quickened. Although MASTER and I had met several times before now, to learn about one another and to build trust, he had refused point blank to put a collar on me. In fact when I had begged to be collared in one of O/our first sessions together I had earned myself a severe beating. A collar, MASTER had explained later, was a profound symbol of ownership, domination and submission, and for an unproven sub to even think about wearing one was unforgivably presumptuous. In a cold, focussed rage, he had imprinted this lesson on my arse until it was black and blue.
That day, kneeling before MASTER as a naked beaten boi and thanking HIM for my punishment, I learned that I would only have the privilege of bearing a collar after signing my slave contract. Fortunately I had just done so, and one of my deepest desires was now being fulfilled. I revelled in the way that the collar bound my neck and restricted my breathing. It was gentle enough to ensure that I would not encounter any problems, but firm enough that I would be constantly aware of its restraining presence. As MASTER fastened the collar HE affirmed my new status. I lost myself in the sense that I was a passive object, a piece of property that could make no decisions and which must humbly accept whatever plans its OWNER had in store for it. In a daze of almost incredulous pleasure, I wondered whether this would be the collar that would be padlocked around my neck forever, or at least for as long as MASTER wished to own me. My eyes closed in the bliss of the moment.
But there was no decisive ‘click’ of a padlock to keep the collar in place, and my reverie was brought to an end as MASTER slapped me hard across the face. ‘Pay attention, cunt’, he warned in a low growl. ‘You’re MY property now and your focus should be on ME.’
I nodded submissively, accepting the rebuke but remembering to keep my eyes on MASTER’s boots and not to say a word. There would be a lot to learn in the coming days and months and I knew I must never forget that the MAN before me was now the centre of my existence.
MASTER obviously wanted to make sure that I was back in the present moment and focussed on HIM, as we stood silently for the next few moments. I kept my head bowed and listened to the quiet gusts of HIS breathing. I consciously dedicated myself and my slave being to HIS pleasure and service, happily accepting whatever the future might hold, hoping that HE could see the submissive love and worship in my heart. I was now visibly his bound chattel. The black rubber collar I wore was only the first sign of the unremitting bondage and control that would be the hallmark of my life from now on. MASTER would decide if, how and whether I could move. HE would keep me in the most humiliating and painful of positions and I would thank HIM for it as HIS devoted subcunt. I almost laughed out loud with happiness.
Eventually MASTER seemed satisfied. He gave a slight grunt and clipped a bright chain lead to my collar. ‘Follow’, HE commanded, tugging sharply on the lead and forcing my collared neck down. ‘And remember to keep your eyes where they belong, boi.’
MASTER’s firm grip on the leashed collar around my neck was another dream come true, controlling and disciplining my movements, and I fell into step behind HIM feeling full of slavish loyalty, luxuriating in the absolute freedom of my submission.
This was my first time in MASTER’s country home, as our previous meetings had taken place at HIS flat in the city. My orders had been to let myself in and come straight to a particular room on the first floor, where MASTER had prepared the contract ceremony, and as a consequence I did not know the house at all. I could tell from the outside that it was extremely large, and built on several storeys, and I wondered whether I would get to know its layout better in the days to come. For now however I had to concentrate on controlling my curiosity and kept my eyes down. W/we descended the staircase and moved through a succession of rooms but all I saw were glimpses of walls painted in muted tones, and a variety of pale carpets which felt sumptuously expensive under my feet. Eventually W/we came to a large, warm room filled with daylight. The floor was tiled with beautifully marbled stone in warm colours and I guessed that this must be MASTER’s kitchen. With a furtive glance out of the corner of my eye I saw a large AGA stove radiating its heat into the air.
MASTER led me through the kitchen and into another room floored with white tiles, where W/we came to a stop. I heard the sound of a key turning in a lock, the almost inaudible murmur of well-oiled hinges, and then felt a breath of cool air that raised goose-pimples on my naked flesh.
‘OK, boi’, said MASTER. ‘You can look up for the time being.’ So I did.
I stood with my MASTER in what must have been HIS utility room. There was a washing machine and dryer, a half-open door behind which I could see a small bathroom, and a porch that clearly led to the grounds outside. But immediately before me a large, mediaeval-looking door of stained oak, studded and banded with black metal, had been opened. On the other side of that door, neon tubes illuminated a metal ramp that sloped down to a room beneath the house.
‘Eyes down again, cuntboi.’ MASTER’s voice startled me and an uncontrollable shiver ran through my body as i quickly fixed my gaze on the floor in front of me. Pulling firmly on the chain leash, MASTER led me across the threshold to the basement and then down the ramp with an almost ceremonial slowness. It was a descent from everyday reality into an underworld of control, submission, and dark ecstasy. The metal of the ramp was incredibly cold against my bare feet: an icy reminder that in this world my comfort was of absolutely no concern to anyone.
After what felt like an eternity, but could only have been about thirty seconds or so, I found myself standing on a floor of smooth bare concrete. Out of the corners of my eyes I thought I could see that the walls of the room were also concrete. Everything was harshly lit by the neon tubes and I wondered if this was to be my new home, a brutal prison for MASTER’s worthless slave meat. But MASTER pulled me forward once more by tugging violently on my leash, forcing my neck down and forcing me to gasp slightly. I noticed that HIS treatment of me was growing more aggressive and brutal. And almost before I knew what was happening I found myself in front of another door.
Perhaps I should not have been surprised. In the months and years to come I would learn that my MASTER was not just wealthy and sadistic but a MAN of extraordinary intelligence and creativity who would again and again lead his helpless and devoted property through carefully designed rituals of submission and degradation. This was the first of such rituals: having descended into the basement of MASTER’s house to begin my enslavement, I was now forced to stand and reflect for a moment on the life that awaited me. Devoid of distractions, blank and bare, the purpose of this antechamber was to prepare me for what lay ahead. I held myself still, accepting that I was now utterly vulnerable to MASTER’s will and silently thanking HIM for whatever lay ahead.
Careful as I was to keep my eyes where they belonged, I could only see the bottom of the door in front of me. That was more than enough however, for I could tell that it was a massive slab of polished steel, like one of those bank vaults that you see in the movies. Distantly, I was aware that where I now stood there had once been a human being who might have found that idea comical and even absurd. But MASTER’s consummate powers of psychological manipulation were already at work. In this inhuman, industrial space, the person I used to be already seemed to be dissolving into thin air. All that was left was a new submissive animal who could somehow sense that the sheer size of the door symbolised something important and almost magical. For this monumental piece of metal was really a portal into a different reality shaped solely by MASTER’s desires: a reality of torture, control, and transcendent perversion, where the petty, moralistic rules which govern most people’s lives simply ceased to exist.
I thought about the fact that I was about to enter that universe for the first time and almost came with excitement. I tried desperately to discipline my breathing and to force myself back from the brink when MASTER spoke.
‘Very well cunt. Perhaps you’ve figured out what’s going on. But if it hasn’t worked its way into your slave skull yet, then you’re about to see my dungeon for the very first time. You’ll spend most of your time here – at least when you’re not busy with chores or when I need you serving in the house for some reason. You’ll learn through punishment and training how to behave in this space, but for now all you need to know is that whenever you cross the threshold here you will do so on your knees, and with your head bowed, like the inferior thing you are.’ He kicked my exposed boi balls gently with the toe of his boot. ‘Understood boi? You have permission to speak.’
‘MASTER, yes MASTER,’ I replied, falling to my knees and trying to remember the terms in the slave contract which governed my speech. ‘This slave understands MASTER, Thank You MASTER.’
‘Good,’ MASTER growled. From my place on the floor, where I belonged, I heard a few muted electronic beeps as he tapped numbers into a keypad. Then the great door unlocked with an audible ‘click’ and I was dragged through it on my leash to discover the terrifying erotic universe which lay beyond.
To be continued …
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