Part 1

Darios sat back in his chair, sipped his drink, and looked over at his slave in a contemplative mood. jenny was standing in the middle of the room - well, she was standing on one foot, her other leg was tied ankle to thigh, so wasn't much use to her. With her arms tied out of the way behind her, she was struggling to maintain her balance, which wasn't helped by the rope covering her eyes. Maintaining her balance was important to her though - if she swayed back, the strings holding the nipple clamps would pull tight, causing her significant additional pain, while if she pitched forward, the rope between her legs would increase the pressure over her clitoris and drive the dildo deeper inside her. If she lost her balance completely, or her leg gave way beneath her, at least the rope across her chest would stop her falling, although the subsequent tightening of the harness tightly squeezing her breasts would make that an unpleasant option as well.

He didn't go in for ‘predicament’ bondage much, he preferred to take his pleasures in more traditional ways, using the crop or paddle to warm her, before satisfying his carnal desires. But he had taken her repeatedly earlier and, knowing that jenny enjoyed being in bondage, seemingly for its own sake, he didn't mind indulging his slave in this way from time to time. Besides, it gave him a chance to think.

jenny was a remarkable woman. She had willingly become his slave, domestic and sexual, on a 24/7 basis. As well as being an attractive woman, she was also a smart, funny, interesting conversationalist. Yes, he felt justifiably proud that such a woman had submitted herself to him so completely. They enjoyed each other, physically and socially.

And yet…

There it was again, that persistent, niggling thought, like an itch at the back of his mind. He loved the relationship he had with jenny. But sometimes, just sometimes, he wanted something else, he wanted… well, in truth he wanted pure, unquestioning, blind, instant, total obedience. There was something he found deeply erotic about the idea of a woman, particularly an independent and lively woman, becoming a mindless slave, his mindless slave, willing to do whatever he commanded without thought, without questioning, without judging and without hesitation. With such a plaything, he could do anything he wanted`- unthinkable, disgusting, taboo things… It was the ultimate in control.

jenny wasn't that slave. But, as she struggled before him, small, inarticulate sounds coming from her mouth, held open by the strands of rope stretched between her jaws making her drool down her chin, he wondered if she could be. The thought was just too exciting to ignore. It would be hard for her, of course it would, mentally as well as physically. It would be hard for him for other reasons - he just didn’t have the time to dedicate to it. He also wondered if he could be objective enough, cold enough, when it came to jenny, to put her through the kind of training that would be required. Well, it was a moot point – slave training was a hobby, not a revenue opportunity. Not for him, anyway.

But perhaps there was another way. Maybe he could utilise the services of an old ‘acquaintance’, for want of a better word. Yes, they had… history, but that was a long time ago and they had both moved on from there, he as a very successful investor, she into an altogether more exotic career. When they'd crossed paths at various private, very exclusive shows, Charys had been accompanied by slaves she had trained and he had been impressed, as well as very aroused, by the incredible level of control she had demonstrated over them. It was exactly what he was looking for from jenny.

There had been a certain wariness as they had greeted each other that first time since they had parted, each privately recalling their previous relationship and how it had ended. But he had been reassured by her professionalism and commercial sense, something he always looked for in any business partner. When they’d met again a few days ago, he had outlined his requirements, and she had agreed to visit, assess the situation, and give him a quote. This would be a business deal, pure and simple. It just happened to involve a human being…

As he contemplated jenny’s bound form, Darios wondered if one woman could fulfil the two roles he desired, that of the bright, intelligent, sassy slave he had now and, when he commanded it, the mindless fuck toy. It would be a risk, the risk being that by pushing her to give him unthinking obedience when required, he would lose what he already had.

But it was a risk he had decided he was willing to take. As for jenny, well, she had no say in the matter…



* * * * *

I waited nervously, kneeling on the footstool in the second drawing room of Master’s mansion, wondering what was going on. I had been there for nearly an hour on my own, which was unusual - normally I would be helping the cook in the kitchen at this time. Master didn't use this room very often either, it wasn’t one of his favourites, so I guessed something unusual was afoot.

I heard the door opening and I furtively glanced over to see Master entering, then holding the door open for his guest. I could see immediately that she was a strikingly beautiful woman – tall, willowy, with blonde hair cut in an expensive bob. Her clothes looked simple but expensive as well, black leggings, with a sleeveless grey top. I immediately sensed her power, and my discomfort rose in response.

"This is the slave," Master said as he came towards me and sat to my left hand side. The woman moved out of my sight behind me, and I heard the faint creak of the chair as she sat down. I noticed that Master had the long crop in his hand, the one I don't like, the one I fear because it is so thin that it always leaves a mark, so flexible that a mere flick of the wrist can generate great speed and, consequently, deliver great pain. The silence extended for several minutes, and I could feel the woman's eyes boring into my back as I tried to maintain my position, keeping my back straight. Master idly placed the tip of the crop under my chin, raising my head a few inches, intimating that this was the perfect position rather than the one I had adopted.

My nervousness increased as I felt myself being examined, appraised, and I didn't know why. Who was this woman? Perhaps she was another Dominant that Master had invited to visit? Maybe they would use me for their entertainment? That was an exciting prospect but also one fraught with uncertainty, as I didn't know the woman's style of domination and she didn't know my limits. It would be a learning experience, but one I - the woman spoke at last.

"She's old!" she said, with more than a hint of contempt in her voice. She wasn’t going to make any friends around here with that kind of comment!

"Early thirties,” Master replied calmly, "but she’s fit and healthy and, as you can see, quite pleasing to look at." The woman made a noise which I think could be interpreted as ‘derisory’. I wondered what the relationship was between this woman and my Master. There clearly was or had been something between them, but I had never heard about anyone like her in his past. This sense of a hinterland merely fed my growing unease. I felt like I was being compared to some undeclared standard, and not coming out of it particularly well.

"How long have you had her?"

"A couple years, before that, well, it’s not important, she’s mine now. But she's come a long way in that time." I got the impression that Master was being slightly defensive, as though he wanted to persuade this woman that I was a good slave. There was another long silence.

"What am I wearing, jenny?" the woman demanded, her disembodied voice and the commanding tone making me still more nervous.

"Er… A grey top, Miss, with black leggings… and heels?" I managed to spit out eventually, wondering why she was asking.

"Now, how would a properly trained slave, with her eyes on the floor in front of her, know that?" I blushed furiously, realising that it had been a test, and one that I had just failed.

"She's very quick witted and intelligent," Master remarked, again sounding as if he was defending me. A sudden, irrational thought flew into my mind - was he trying to sell me to her?! It certainly sounded  like the kind of conversation you had when selling a second-hand car – ‘she’s a bit of an old banger, few miles on the clock, but a good little run-around…’ I’d heard of such things, selling slaves, but they weren’t for real, just stories, surely? Master wouldn't do that… would he? We had a relationship built on mutual respect, trust… at least that's what I had thought. Had that changed, did he now think that he owned me and so could sell me? I tried to dismiss the thought as fanciful, but it kept eating away at the back of my mind. I was frightened now.

"Wit and intelligence, not good traits in a slave," the woman stated, the tone of contempt back in her voice. I heard her chair scraping on the floor, and then her heels click-clacking on the polished wood as they moved towards me. I kept my eyes very carefully on the floor in front of me, seeing only her feet as she walked around me.

"Do you think you are good slave, jenny?" she asked sharply, standing between me and Master, her back to me.

"I… I… I try to be the best slave I can be for my Master," I stuttered. As I waited in confusion for the next question of her interrogation, she suddenly turned and whipped the crop, which she had taken from Master, hard across my breasts, perfectly catching both nipples with the firm rod. I let out a cry of pain and surprise, and grabbed my breasts, nursing them as I tried to cope with the throbbing agony. Almost instantly, I remembered my training and pulled my hands back behind my back, hoping that my instinctive reaction had not put another black mark against my name in the ledger I imagined this woman was keeping. No such luck.

"You haven't taught her to control herself?" she exclaimed, with more than a hint of disbelief and disapproval in her voice.

Master didn't reply this time, and a quick glance around showed me his grim expression. Was he disappointed in my reaction? Why? When he hit me that hard, thankfully not that frequently, I was usually bound so that I couldn't react in such a way, and I would either have been gagged or he would have appreciated my cries. How is one expected to react when taken by surprise with such a vicious blow? I could feel tears welling in my eyes and I looked down at the angry red line now beginning to stand proud across my chest.

"I'm not sure she can be trained,” the woman said as she returned to her seat, “she's too old, too set in her ways, too used to her freedom."

"I want it done,” Master said flatly, his voice cold and dispassionate, “what will it take?"

"If she was eighteen or twenty, I would say a couple of months," she mused, "but at this age, with her attitude, much longer, if at all. It will take a lot of time and effort, and that costs money."

"I have money," Master replied dismissively, "when can you start?"

"I'll send someone over to pick her up tomorrow."

Without another word, they got up and walked out of the room. I bent over and hugged myself, still trying to ease the pain across my chest. I felt tears run down my cheeks and drip onto the floor, but they were not just about the pain. I knew now that Master intended to send me away, for at least two months it seemed, for some kind of training. I was dismayed at the thought of being apart from him for so long.

But what filled me with dread was the thought of being under the control of this harsh, cruel woman for the next few months, and of what she was planning to do to me…