"Hello? Is somebody there? Samantha?"

"Oh, hi, Rob, how're you doing?"

"Zoe? What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

"Well, I found something which belongs to you," the petite redhead smiled, "I thought I should bring it back." She led Rob into the sitting room of his flat and, although he had an idea of what he might find, he still stopped dead in his tracks, stunned by the sight which greeted him.

Samantha stood before him, naked, although that was the least surprising aspect of what he saw. Her wrists were tied to a bamboo cane which lay across her stomach, but her arms were pulled back by another cane pinned between her back and elbows, leaving little slack. She was standing with her legs apart and was held in that position by another bamboo stick tied to her ankles and, just for good measure, yet another tied against the back of her knees, forcing her thighs slightly further apart.

"Hello, slave," Rob said, an evil smile creeping across his face.

"Eh-oh, Athter," Samantha replied with considerable difficulty. She looked like she was sticking her tongue out at him, but this was entirely involuntary. Her tongue was sandwiched between two halves of a short piece of bamboo which extended to either side of her mouth, preventing her from closing her lips. A rubber band had been used at either side of her tongue to keep the pieces of cane in place, squeezing tightly and adding to her difficulties.

Her discomfort was also being caused by the clamp which had been fashioned around her breasts by two more bamboo lengths tied together at the ends with string. And, to complete this Asian-themed bondage, two rather painful-looking nipple clamps had been created in the same way as the one around her tongue. As well as all this, he could see that she was wearing chains on her wrists and ankles, joined by chain from her collar. Rob felt that the rather haunted look in Samantha's eyes was entirely justified.

"You seem to have done a very good job in making sure she doesn't get lost again, Zoe," Rob remarked sardonically, "what's she been up to?"

"Well, she put on her slave collar while we were at college and insisted that I be her Mistress," Zoe replied, "and then she got herself suspended!". Samantha gave her friend an astonished look at this blatant rewriting of events, but knew that it would be a very bad idea, as well as very difficult, to try to argue the point - a slave does not contradict her superiors!

"After I had made it very clear that you should not be playing 'slave' again before Friday!" Rob exclaimed, looking genuinely angry and annoyed, "that kind of disobedience deserves severe punishment!" He heard Samantha moan in alarm at this, and even try to say something, but he ignored her, grabbing the long chain hanging from the front of her collar.

He pulled down on it, forcing the bound girl to bend over, and, once her upper body was parallel to the ground, left her there, defying her to straighten up without his express permission.

"I hope you have some more of those canes," he said to Zoe who, smiling, showed him the two sticks she held, handing one to him. They positioned themselves behind Samantha, on either side of her, giving themselves sufficient room to swing and strike the helpless target before them.

"To show that you understand why you are being punished and that you accept it," Rob said sternly, poking the soft flesh of her buttock with the end of his stick, "after each stroke, you will thank us and ask for another. Do you understand?"

"Eth, Athter," Samantha responded, her voice quavering with fear.

WHACK!

The bound slave shrieked as the cane struck, creating a line of white lightning across her bottom. The chain rattled as she convulsed, instinctively fighting against the urge for flight and almost losing her balance. Tears came to her eyes as she tried to process the vicious sting of the blow struck by her Master, so much harder than anything she had ever experienced before. As she struggled to catch a breath, she knew that she must now respond.

"Ank-oo, Athter!" she squeaked, "P'eath 'ay I ha' a'odder?!" Rob nodded to Zoe and watched as she brought the cane whistling through the air to deliver a strike every bit as fierce as his own and, seeing the delighted expression on her face, knew that she was enjoying herself. That, together with the bondage she had created, convinced him that she was a bona fide Dominatrix.

WHACK!

"Aaiyeee!!" Samantha screamed, "Ank-oo, Ithteth! P'eath 'ay I ha' a'odder?!"

As the beating went on, the naked blonde was quickly reduced to tears, her sobs so violent that her nose began to run and saliva drip from her open mouth. After half a dozen strokes, the livid red stripes across her rump made Rob relent and bring the punishment to an end.

"I don't know about you," he said, turning to Zoe," but all that exercise has made me hungry. Let's eat!"

* * * * *

Samantha knelt on the floor, still wearing her slave chains, and watched as her Master and Mistress consumed the food that she had prepared. It was quite a strain, but she managed to keep her buttocks a couple of inches above her heels, not wanting to exacerbate the soreness she was feeling from the earlier caning. It was still too tender to touch, but the searing pain had at least faded to a throbbing ache.

They seemed to be enjoying themselves, laughing and chatting away animatedly as they ate the beef bourgignon and drank a bottle of Chianti, and Samantha felt a strange unease. Is that jealousy, she wondered, am I jealous that they are having a good meal while I can only watch? Or am I jealous of the fun that my friend is clearly having with my boyfriend? Or am I worried that Rob prefers this bright, vivacious redhead to me, his girlfriend, who insists on being dully submissive all the time?

But then she transformed the feeling by realising just how humiliating it was to be forced to watch impotently while her Master conversed with - chatted up? Flirted with? Maybe even made a move on - her best friend. And with that thought came another surge of arousal.

"Come here, slave," Rob barked at her, startling her out of her reverie, "get under the table and do your duty." Samantha crawled under the table and, seeing his trousers and boxers pulled down to his knees, knew what was expected.

She did 'her duty' to the best of her abilities which, in Rob's opinion, were exemplary. Zoe watched in amusement as he tried, but failed, to concentrate on the conversation they were having.

"Mmmh!… Yeah?… Oh!… Oh my God!… Nrrrrgh!… Sorry, what were you saying?!" Samantha appreciated the obvious embarrassment he was suffering while, at the same time, enjoying the ultimate pleasure - so like her own situation! She quickly brought him to climax, and drank his cum greedily, not letting a drop escape.

"Expertly done, as always, slave," he said as he regained his composure, "now do the same for your Mistress." Samantha, still under the table, turned obediently towards Zoe, whose hands reached up under her skirt and pulled down her panties, leaving them around her ankles. She spread her thighs wide, inviting the slave in.

Another humiliating task for me, Samantha thought, becoming ever more aroused. She had never even kissed a girl, let alone done anything like this, but she approached the job eagerly, wondering what Zoe was thinking of this. She got a fair idea when, as she tentatively put her head between the other girl's thighs, a hand grabbed her hair and dragged her in until her face was pressed against the already-wet pussy in front of her.

Samantha may never have licked out a girl, but she had had it done to her and knew what was likely to meet the demands of her Mistress. She found the taste of the juices oozing onto her face quite pungent but not unpleasant, and she licked away at them, not surprised that, as hard as she worked, they were replaced in ever-growing quantities. Leaning forward, she sucked on Zoe's firm clitoris, receiving an appreciative gasp in response.

"So tell me, Zoe," Rob asked innocently, "what's the favourite part of your course?"

"My favourite part? It's… Aaaah!… It's… Jesus, that is so fucking good!… Er… Oh fuck!… I, er… Oh, yes! Yes! YES!… Sorry, what was the question again?" Samantha felt the sudden flood as Zoe came, and she lapped up the fluid eagerly, not wanting to leave any behind. Having completed her work, she crawled out from under the table and resumed her submissive position, a faint self-satisfied smile on her face.

"I think you've served your purpose for tonight," Rob said as he got up from the table, "come on, slave, into your cage." Samantha jumped up and followed him into the box room, before crawling into the confined space and lying on the mattress. She watched as Rob closed the padlock, locking her in and, without another word or even a backward glance, walked out and shut the door behind him.

The room was now only illuminated by the thin strip of artificial light seeping under the door. Samantha listened to the indistinct sounds of conversation, wondering what her Master and Mistress were talking about. She was sure it wasn't her - she was securely locked away and could be safely forgotten until they wanted to use her again. She hoped for the reassuring sounds of Zoe saying goodnight and leaving but, after perhaps an hour, the lights went out and the flat fell silent. Is she still here, Samantha wondered, fucking my boyfriend?! Frustrated at not knowing, she lay back on the thin, scratchy material of the mattress and stared into the surrounding blackness.

The night was hot, and the small, windowless room stiflingly airless. Unable to sleep as she sweated in the stygian gloom, Samantha explored the limits of her confinement. Despite the chains locked to her wrists preventing her from fully extending her arms, she easily reached out to touch the wire roof and sides around her. With her legs bent, her feet were still touching one end of the cage while her head was only inches from the other. With nothing to see or hear, and nothing else to touch, her mind turned in on itself, playing back scenes from the last few days.

She was still struggling to come to terms with how everything had changed so quickly. Contrary to the current evidence, she was - or had been - a shy and conservative girl, whose only real vice was an overwhelming attraction to bondage, something which had grown from her childhood fascination with 'damsels in distress'. It had started with children's adventure stories, read in books and seen on TV. Somehow, puberty had transformed this innocent pleasure into a secret, very sexual, desire, one which she could share with no-one.

No one, that is, until Rob. It had taken a lot to reveal her secret to him and, after the crushing disappointment of his initial refusal to help her satisfy her cravings, she had been overjoyed when he relented and agreed to 'play games' with her.

She was, in some senses, rather innocent and naive, her expectation being only that he would turn her self-bondage games into something more realistic, where she couldn't easily free herself, and also she might be 'forced' to explore all kinds of sexual experiences which she had hitherto shied away from.

But, she now realised, he had come back to her with an entirely different proposition and it had, unwittingly, uncovered a whole new aspect of her personality - her submissiveness. The Master-slave game had first exposed her willingness to be dominated and then, very quickly, explored the extent of her submission. Embarrassment at what he asked her to do rapidly transformed into humiliation at what he ordered her to do. And what had started out as demeaning acts soon became degrading ones. Yet all so incredibly stimulating…

She had sunk to uncharted depths of depravity, as she saw it and, as far as she could tell, had not yet hit bottom. What would make her reach her limits, she wondered. Being forced to have sex with someone else? I didn't even hesitate when ordered to perform a sexual act on Zoe, she thought. Maybe being forced to have full-on sex with another man would be too much? Maybe not… While Rob watches? Or being tied down while his friends fuck me in all my holes?! Samantha realised that these speculations had made her heart pound and her breathing become shallow, while her fingers had found their way between her sweaty thighs, into her hot cunt, and were working hard as the images played before her mind's eye. She didn't – couldn't - stop…

As she slowly recovered from her orgasm, her thoughts took a different turn. What about Rob? He had made out that he was horrified by the idea of mistreating her, even at her own insistence, and was only doing this for her benefit. But his initial, apparent, reluctance bellied his subsequent actions. He is definitely enjoying himself, she thought. Is it really that he is just humouring me? Or does he love to humiliate and punish me? Or does he love my reaction to being humiliated and punished? Whatever, I'm not complaining!

In the end, Samantha decided that it didn't really matter. She loved being treated so harshly while at the same time knowing that, ultimately, she was in safe hands. She loved Rob, both as a boyfriend and as a Master, and was sure that he felt the same way.

* * * * *

She must have fallen asleep at some point in the night, because she was awoken, dazed and unrefreshed, by a loud banging on the roof of the cage.

"Come on, slave, get up!" Rob was shouting, "I don't have all day, some of us have work! Go and do your business - quickly!" Samantha, still half asleep, staggered to the bathroom and sat on the toilet. She stank of stale sweat and sex, and looked forward to jumping in the shower, disappointed that Rob was already dressed, so would not be joining her.

"Finished?" Rob barked as he put his head around the door, "then get back in your cage."

"Master?" Samantha asked questioningly, looking longingly towards the shower cubicle and wondering what was going on.

"Well, you don't have any college to go to, and I don't want to be wondering what you're getting up to while I'm at work, so you can spend the day locked up, where you belong!" Rather stunned, Samantha went back into the tiny room and got down on her hands and knees.

"Stop dawdling!" Rob snarled, putting his foot against her buttock and sending her sprawling into the cage. He put a bowl of water inside the cage door and threw in a stick of French bread, before clicking the padlock in place and leaving the room.

Oh my God, thought the bemused slave, I don't believe it! Now I'm imprisoned, with only bread and water to keep me going for the entire day?! This is too much! Of course, as her stomach churned with excitement at this latest development, she knew it wasn't too much - it was another unexpected twist in the enthralling DiD story her life was becoming!

She fumbled in the darkness for her provisions, then slurped at the water and gnawed on the bread as the heat of the day gradually rose until she was panting for breath and sweating freely. She dozed as the hours dragged by, her daydreams filled with visions of herself as a princess locked in a deep, dark castle dungeon while her cruel jailer cackled in triumph at her subjugation.

As the day wore on, with no way to measure the passage of time or to know when she might be freed, Samantha began playing with herself, as much to relieve her boredom as the sexual tensions being stoked by her hyperactive imagination. After each climax, she told herself that it must be the last, as she became a little sore. But, with nothing else to distract her, her fingers soon crept back to resume the exquisite torture that she forced herself to endure.

Like a dog anticipating the return of its master, she reacted to every slight sound by grabbing the bars of the cage and listening intently to see if it was the turning of a key in the lock, the shutting of the door, the steps of her own Master returning. Time and again, her hopes rose and, time and again, they were dashed, making her throw herself back onto the mattress, once more disappointed.

At last, the moment of his return did arrive, and she waited expectantly for the door to the room to open. But, to her dismay, the footsteps moved on, and she heard the indistinct sound of the television, not loud enough for her to understand what was being said, but certainly loud enough for her to know that whatever her needs might be, they were not a priority. What a bastard, she thought, he really knows how to treat a slave!

She was taken by surprise when, what seemed like hours later, the door finally opened and the light went on, temporarily blinding her. She heard the cage door creak open and crawled out of it before standing and easing the ache in her back.

"I brought you some presents," Rob said, holding up four black leather cuffs, "I think you'll find these a lot more comfortable." Having unlocked the chains and satisfied himself that her skin was only superficially scratched, he placed the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. As he did so, Samantha heard a soft click, and realised that they had small, integral locks which snapped shut as the bracelet was closed.

These are more comfortable, she thought, and also look more professional, more… permanent. As Rob attached the chains to the cuffs, using one of the four D rings located around each one, he reduced the number of chain links between her wrists and between her ankles, severely restricting her ability to separate her limbs. Just a little more restraint, she thought.

"This present is more for my benefit," Rob went on, holding up a black latex hood, "when I look at you, I see my beautiful girlfriend and feel guilty about treating her so mean. But, once you're wearing this, I'll see you for what you are - just a convenient collection of holes for me to fuck!"

He rolled the hood down over her head and face, covering it completely, apart from holes for her eyes, nostrils and mouth. It reached down her neck, clinging tightly like a second skin.

"There, now you look totally anonymous, like a living manequin, the perfect slave. But this now looks out of place." As he said this, Rob removed the dog collar from around her neck and unlocked it from the slave chains.

"I have a new collar for you, slave," Rob smiled as he showed her it, "one to match your nice new cuffs." It was black leather, like the cuffs, and had the same four D rings, but Samantha was shocked to see that it was at least six inches wide and would cover virtually her entire neck.

As he positioned it, Samantha heard the tell-tale click, and realised that it had locked in place.

"This will require a slight modification to the rules of our little game," Rob explained as he padlocked the end of the slave chain to the D ring on the front of the collar, ensuring that he shortened it until Samantha could no longer stand upright, "you will be able to start the game by putting the collar on but, from now on, I will decide when the game ends. Do you accept this, slave?"

"Yes, Master," Samantha said in a quiet, hoarse voice crackling with arousal. She reached up and felt the collar, realising that it covered the bottom of the hood, making it impossible to remove without first being released from the collar. This is totally de-humanising, she thought, he really does want to separate 'me' from the slave he has created! This new level of degradation to which she had submitted ramped up her arousal still further.

"Good, I wouldn't want you to think you'd been tricked into anything," Rob grinned, "because now I feel entirely guilt-free when I do this." As he said this, he took a nipple between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and squeezed, driving his thumbnail into her soft flesh until she was crying in pain.

Releasing her bruised buds, he turned her around and pushed her down onto the wire roof of the cage. He spread her legs as far as the chains would allow and then forced himself into her, thrusting hard. He banged away, not listening to her breathless gasps as the edge of the cage bit into the flesh of her hips. Samantha felt entirely used, nothing more than a receptacle for his cock and, eventually, his cum. Those feelings excited her to the point of orgasm.

"I've had my dinner," Rob said as he straightened his clothing afterwards, "you can eat my leftovers as you clear up." Samantha straightened up from her position, sprawled across the cage, and followed him out of the room.

As she went past the full-length mirror, she paused to look at herself, amazed by how the shiny black latex hood really did take away her individuality, leaving just an anonymous female body in chains. I see what he likes about this, she thought, I look like an animatronic sex doll! And a doll doesn't have feelings, does it? You can do anything you want to a doll…

She took the dishes through to the kitchen and hungrily gobbled down what he had left of the pasta parcels and tomato sauce. It wasn't much, but luckily he had cooked more than he wanted, and she ate that from the pan before washing it. The food was cold but she didn't care, she was that hungry.

When she had cleaned the dishes and the kitchen, she went through to the lounge and knelt at his feet as he watched TV.

"Fancy some dessert, slut?" he asked and, when she saw that his erection was back and protruding proudly from his fly, it was clear what was on the menu. Samantha tucked in to her second course eagerly, partly because she had developed a craving for the taste of his cum, but also because she felt like she needed the extra protein.

"How did it take me so long to discover your true calling, my slave?" he remarked wistfully as he watched the latex sphere bobbing up and down in his lap, his shaft repeatedly disappearing into that delightful black hole.

As he reached the point of no return, he pushed back against her forehead and watched his milky white seed spurt all over the black rubber hood. Samantha, her eyes closed against the semen spraying across them, opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue to catch any drips.

"Okay, I'm finished with you for tonight," Rob said, "go and get in your cage and lock yourself in." Samantha stood up and, once she had wiped the cum away from her eyes and licked it from her fingers, went back into the box room. She crawled into the cage and, with some difficulty, managed to get the padlock into the right place and close it.

I really am his slave now, she thought, even in my little daydreams, I can't pretend that I'm a captive anymore, because I'm such a willing participant in this game. But that's okay, it's sexy as hell! It looks like I'm in here for another night, I wonder when he'll let me out? Ever? Or is this my life from now on? Locked in a cage 24 hours a day, except for when he wants to use me? Not a bad life…

Samantha had been joking to herself with those thoughts, but when she spent the night and then, after a brief trip to the bathroom in the morning to perform the required bodily functions, the whole of the next day locked in the cage, in the dark, she began to wonder if it was a joke at all.

The following evening followed an identical pattern to the previous one, involving her eating scraps, performing domestic chores, and then sexual chores for her Master. Another night sweltering in the darkness was followed, to her astonishment, by a third day locked up and alone.

Oh my God, she thought, is this ever going to end?! What day is it now? I went to college on Monday and Tuesday, then Zoe was here and I was locked away on Tuesday night. I must've spent Wednesday and Thursday in here, so today must be Friday. Does that mean anything? Master won't have to go to work tomorrow but then maybe he'll just keep me like this anyway! He did say he would 'play' with me on Friday, but then that was before he decided to lock me up for the rest of the week…

She felt a deep uncertainty about her future and, being such a submission-freak, that doubt fuelled her arousal again. She spent the day playing with herself as she imagined her life as a real slave, always hooded, always chained, always used and abused. What made it even more stimulating was that it was entirely possible that this really was what her life was going to be.

When Rob returned from work, Samantha nervously waited for him to enter the room and, even when he unlocked the cage and released her, made no assumptions about what might happen next.

"Phew, you stink!" he exclaimed, screwing up his face in mock disgust, "you badly need a shower!" He took out his keyring and unlocked the cuffs on Samantha's wrists and ankles, before finally removing her collar. Samantha rubbed the newly exposed skin and stretched her back, working out the stiffness which had developed from the continuously curled posture forced by the shortened chains.

It feels strange to be free again, she thought, what do I do? Should I call Rob 'Master' or 'darling'? Can I kiss him, or should I wait until ordered to do so? Her confusion gradually passed as she realised that, as she was not wearing the collar, she was no longer a slave and could actually do whatever she wanted. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing, but she knew that what she really wanted right now was to get clean!

"Mind if I join you?" Samantha felt Rob's hands on her wet body, and it felt wonderful to, once more, be the object of his affection rather than his derision. They kissed and fondled each other under the warm spray, exploring each other's body as if they had been parted for a long time. I suppose, in a sense, we have, Samantha mused, 'Master and slave' is so different from 'Rob and Samantha'. But I love them both!

"I've arranged a little party for tonight, darling," Rob said as they dried themselves after the long and highly erotic shower, "you can go as either Samantha, my beautiful girlfriend, and we can have a fun time together, with friends, booze and dancing. Or you can go as Slave, my worthless fuck-toy, and I'll have fun while you exhibit yourself for the entertainment of the guests. I don't really mind either way, the choice is entirely yours."

Samantha looked at him in astonishment. More Master-slave play? She wondered what he had planned - where were they going, what would they be doing, who would be there? She realised she wasn't going to find out until after she had made the decision about whether she would spend the evening as a 'normal' person or as a slave. The jeopardy of her decision became clear. She had to balance the risk of suffering unbearable humiliation against the reward of… enjoying unbearable humiliation? I must have a limit to how much I can take, she thought, will I reach it tonight?!

In the end, it was pretty much a no-brainer. She had loved everything he had forced her to endure so far, and she knew that he had planned this so that it would work if she chose to become his slave again. She trusted him and, with her hands trembling a little, she picked up the wide slave collar and fitted it around her neck. As she closed it at the back, she heard a faint click as the lock snapped shut. With the butterflies in her stomach intensifying their bid for freedom, she knew that whatever was going to happen was now, irrevocably, out of her hands.

"You really are an insatiable slut, aren't you, slave?" Rob sneered, the contemptuous tone of the Master back in his voice. "Well, let's get you dressed for the party."

The first thing he gave her to wear was a pair of black latex stockings, which she pulled on with some difficulty, making her glad that she had just shaved and moisturised her legs. They squeezed her skin quite gently but all over, and there was no danger that they would fall down or unravel from mid-thigh. As she looked down at herself, she had to admit that, with their smooth, shiny surface, they made her long legs look really good.

Next were the ankle-height ballet boots he had bought for her the previous weekend. Samantha laced them as tightly as she could, knowing that the less her feet and ankles could move around within the confines of the stiff leather, the better. She spent a few minutes walking around the bedroom, re-familiarising herself with the slightly unnatural posture required to ensure the maximum comfort and stability while moving. With her back straight, head up and buttocks clenched, she strutted sexily before her Master, to his evident delight.

Once she was fully confident again, Rob produced a waist-cincher - a black leather mini-corset, with straps rather than laces. As he fitted it, Samantha felt her stomach flattened and squeezed tightly, until her waist measurement had reduced by several inches. The restrictive garment sat on the her hips and didn't reach as high as her breasts, as a normal corset would, but Samantha certainly appreciated its confining qualities as her breath became shallower to accommodate the reduction in her lung capacity.

Samantha became even more excited when she saw what she was required to wear next, something she had seen many times in pictures on the Internet but never in 'real life'. She had always thought that the armbinder was a particularly sexy form of bondage, seeming to make the wearer's upper limbs not just unusable but invisible, as if they weren't there. She also loved the way that, once the arms were fused together behind the back, they could be used to control the rest of the body by hoisting up the retaining ring at the end of the binder. She had poured over images of women constrained in such things during many a happy masturbation session.

The black leather of the armbinder matched that of the waist-cincher, though she could see that this laced up. Rob slipped it up her arms as if helping her into a jacket, pulling it as high as he could, before taking the restraining straps over her shoulders and, crossing them between her breasts, buckling them underneath the opposite armpit. Although she was already securely trapped within the leather sleeve, Samantha eagerly anticipated the tightening of her confines.

As Rob carefully worked his way up the single glove, pulling the laces tight, ensuring that at no point was there any slack, Samantha moaned in pleasure as her forearms were inextricably forced closer together until, to her delight, she felt her elbows touch. Excellent flexibility, she thought, congratulating herself. The lacing continued until Rob reached the top of the armbinder and secured the white cords, tucking the excess length out of sight.

"Take a look at yourself in the mirror, slave," Rob ordered, turning her to face her reflection. Samantha, already highly aroused by the feel of her bondage, now looked in wonder at herself and saw the perfect bondage model staring back at her, eyes lidded and half-shut, her full lips pouting. With her arms out of sight behind her back and her waist, neck and legs almost disappearing beneath their black leather and rubber bindings, her gaze was drawn inevitably to her breasts and shaved pussy. She knew that anyone else looking at her would find themselves staring in the same way, and the thought made her even more aroused.

"Okay, ready to go?" Rob said when he had dressed himself in a polo shirt and chinos, "the taxi should be here in a few minutes. Let's go and wait for it on the street." Samantha looked at him in astonishment. I can't go outside like this, she thought, I'll get arrested!

"I suppose I'll need to cover you up," he grumbled, while at the same time enjoying the horrified expression on her face, "wait here, I've got something which should do the job."

Samantha waited nervously as Rob left the bedroom momentarily, and didn't feel very reassured when he returned holding a patterned tablecloth and a pair of scissors. He cut a fairly jagged hole in the centre of the cloth and pulled it over her head, arranging it so that one corner draped down in front, one behind, with the others hanging down from her shoulders.

"There, you look perfectly acceptable," he smiled. Samantha looked at herself in the mirror and saw that the tablecloth was just long enough to cover her groin and bottom although, when she turned to the side, she could see bare skin stretching from the tops of the stockings to the bottom of the waist-cincher, which was just visible. She noticed that the material was thin enough to outline her erect nipples as they poked against it. The cloth also did nothing to hide her black leather collar, with its tell-tale D rings.

Rob hustled her out of the flat and down to the ground floor, the makeshift poncho flapping alarmingly as she negotiated the stairs with great care and attention. Once outside, she wished that she had the use of her hands, as the slightest breeze threatened to expose her. As they waited, a couple of people passed by and gave her bizarre outfit more than a passing glance.

Getting into the back seat of the taxi was a challenge fraught with the danger of either falling on her arse or flashing the driver, possibly both. But she managed it, and watched through the window as they drove across town, wondering where they were going. She noticed the driver staring at her whenever he could in the rearview mirror, checking out the attractive girl who was sitting so uncomfortably, looking at her collar, those perky nipples and the bare flesh between the strange garment and the tops of the kinky stockings she was wearing. Must be going to a fancy dress party, he thought.

Rob helped her out of the car when they arrived, and she looked around to find that she was standing in front of a rather dingy-looking club in a backstreet in Soho. Her immediate thought was that they were at a strip joint, and she wondered whether she was going to be displayed in front of an audience of dirty old men in raincoats.

Rob led her through the door and they entered a small foyer in which a couple of very large and imposing men, clearly bouncers, were standing.

"Good evening, Sir," one of them said, smiling at Rob, "I take it this is the slut you mentioned earlier?" The way the two men leered at her unnerved Samantha, making her look down at the floor rather than at their faces. Suddenly, Rob whipped the tablecloth up and over her head, revealing her naked, restrained body.

"That's right," he replied, "she's just my slave cunt, so be my guest if you want to check her out." To Samantha's alarm, one of them reached out and began fondling her breast, rolling her nipple under his thumb. She started to back away, feeling rather violated by his behaviour, but came up against the solid wall of the other bouncer, now standing behind her.

"Take your hands off me!" she protested as her breasts were groped and the man behind her reached around to slide his fingers between her labia and stroke her clitoris. She struggled to break free but, with their strength and her bound arms, she could do little but squirm against them, rather adding to their pleasure.

She looked towards Rob for help, but at that very moment he was reaching for her and, before she could say another word, had forced the large ball of the gag he was holding into her mouth, prising her jaws apart and stretching her lips. As her cries became indistinct and muffled, he buckled the strap tight behind her head, before stepping back and leaving the two men to continue.

Her bondage, nakedness, and helplessness at the hands of two complete strangers as they mauled her while her boyfriend stood watching began to have an effect on Samantha. She was no longer crying out for help but moaning loudly into the gag, thrusting herself onto the fingers which had now entered her moist vagina and were working her into a frenzy. The man in front of her was now pinching her nipples quite hard, which just added to the stimulation. He leaned forward and, sticking out his tongue, licked from her chin, across her stretched, gagged lips, to her nose, in a wildly erotic parody of a kiss. At that moment, Samantha screamed out her orgasm.

"Your guests have all arrived, Sir," the first man said, having released Samantha and left her with his colleague who, leaning her against the wall for support, wiped his sticky fingers clean in her hair. "If you'd like to go in?"

"Thanks," Rob smiled back at him as he helped the now post-orgasmic slave to walk on her wobbly legs.

He led her through an internal door, and Samantha was hit by a wall of noise and flashing lights. She looked around to find that she was now in a nightclub, with a DJ playing music and controlling the light show, and a long bar down one side of the room. The place was also full of people, dancing, drinking, and shouting over the thumping beat of the music. Her anxiety level shot up as she wondered who they all were. I can't believe I'm being paraded in front of a whole roomful of strangers, she thought, this is so humiliating!

As Rob led her through the small crowd of partygoers, she realised that the 'roomful of strangers' wasn't as unknown to her as she had feared. The first group they approached were all her friends from college.

"Hey there, slave!" Zoe exclaimed, appearing from within the knot of smiling students, "looking super-sexy tonight! I'm glad to see your arse has recovered from that beating we gave it the other night!" This brought laughter from her friends, and Samantha blushed in embarrassment.

"Wow, you're looking even hotter than last Saturday night!" a man's voice said as Samantha was pulled away and pushed towards a gaggle of young men. She recognised Simon and the rest of the rugby team with whom she had played a rather exciting game the previous weekend.

After a few ribald comments, she was whisked away again and, gradually, presented to each of the people in the room. She realised that she knew everyone who was there and, indeed, had already demonstrated to them her willingness to embarrass and humiliate herself.

Finally, Rob brought her to the far end of the club, with the DJ and his equipment on one side of a small dance floor, and a raised circular dais at the other side. He helped her up onto the dais and she stood there, looking out at the assembled friends and acquaintances, knowing that she was on display for their amusement and entertainment, and her own humiliation and arousal.

At least I'm not being paraded before total strangers, she thought, these are all people who know me and my kinky predilections. Except for those two guys in the foyer. What was all that about?! I hope Rob set them up for that! That was amazing!

But now, we're all just friends together. Except for those people working behind the bar, I suppose. They seem to be collecting a lot of glasses around here - that's the third person who's done that in the last five minutes! And the DJ, of course. He seems to be spending a lot of time looking in my direction.

Samantha stood there while the party went on around her. People danced below her, occasionally gathering around the dais and, while looking up at her, discussing her and this bizarre situation as if she wasn't there. Or as if she were just some inanimate statue, a kinky version of the Venus de Milo, perhaps, complete with missing arms. They're objectifying me, she thought, that is so wonderfully sexy!

When she looked around the room, she saw that Rob was circulating, engaging in lively conversations with the various groups of guests, and completely ignoring her. I wonder if he's even thinking about me, she mused, but then why would he? I'm just his slave, fulfilling my purpose tonight merely by standing here, demonstrating his complete power over me to all our friends. He has complete confidence in my submission, knowing that he doesn't have to watch over me to ensure that I do exactly as he commands. Somehow, that just makes me love him more.

Samantha had been standing for what seemed like several hours when she noticed a change. Everyone gathered around the base of the dais, looking at her expectantly, as if she were about to perform in some way. What's that the DJ is playing, she wondered. 'Slave to Love'?! You've got to be kidding me! He's playing our song! At that moment, Rob jumped up onto the small circular stage alongside her.

"Friends!" he called out to the eager throng, "thanks for coming tonight, to join me and my gorgeous slave here, on this special evening. As you all know, Samantha has a particular predilection for submission, enjoying being 'forced' to endure situations such as we have here - public exhibitionism in strict and extremely sexy bondage. At least, if you didn't know before, you sure as hell know now!" This brought laughter from the crowd of friends.

"You can also all see just how beautiful she is," he went on, "whether she's wearing normal clothes or, as now, something a little more revealing. Some of you know how bright and intelligent she is. Fewer of you know how witty, funny, loving and caring she is.

"Over the time we've known each other, I've come to appreciate and value her more and more, and I've fallen deeply in love with her. When she was recently brave enough and, I like to think, trusted me enough to share with me her deep desire to submit to me, I couldn't believe my good fortune: that the beautiful girl I wanted more than anything else in the world was willing and even eager to fulfil my own secret fantasies.

"To use a famous quote, she's an enigma, wrapped in mystery, wrapped in a conundrum - a shy exhibitionist, a demure deviant, a straight-laced sex fiend! So self-assured and confident yet, at the same time, so sweetly submissive.

"The thought of controlling this gorgeous creature and, at the same time, being able to satisfy her hidden needs, is like a dream come true for me. And I certainly don't want to wake up from this dream! So…" To Samantha's astonishment, Rob took a small box from his pocket and, opening it, went down on one knee. She could see, inside the box, a glittering emerald, surrounded by diamonds, set in the golden claws of an engagement ring.

"Samantha, will you consent to marry me? And I need your response as my girlfriend, not as my slave!"

Tears were streaming down the cheeks of the stunned blonde but, as the friends around her could see, her gagged lips were pulled back into a broad grin.

"Esh! Esh! Esh!" she squealed delightedly. Rob smiled with a combination of ecstasy and relief as he wiped the flecks of saliva from his face, delivered by Samantha's explosive shout being forced around the rubber ball in her mouth. Foam bubbled on her lips and drool ran down her chin, dripping down onto her bare breasts but, in his eyes, she had never looked more beautiful, or sexy.

"I wanted to put this on your finger," Rob said as he stood up and removed the ring from its box, "but I don't think that's very practical at the moment - I certainly wouldn't want to spoil the rather elegant restriction of that single glove. Still, I'm sure we can find another way that you can wear my ring and show it off to all our friends."

He took his work security badge from his pocket and, as Samantha and the guests watched in confusion, removed the oblong card from the lapel clip and replaced it with the gold and emerald ring, snapping the plastic clip shut to secure it. He held it up in front of his fiancee, showing her the small metal clamp attached to the loop holding the ring.

"Now, where can we attach this?" he asked rhetorically with an evil grin. Samantha's eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up as she felt his fingers spreading her labia and then, to her consternation, the metal jaws of the sprung clip closing around her clitoris, still sensitive from her earlier orgasm.

Everyone heard her loud and lengthy moan as Rob released the clip and stood back, leaving the gold ring dangling between her pussy lips. But, rather than an expression of sympathy at her clear discomfort, there was a loud cheer and a spontaneous round of applause at this unusual confirmation of their engagement.

Rob carefully helped his restrained girlfriend down off the dais and led her into the crowd, receiving their congratulations and allowing them to admire the ring. Samantha gasped as they pulled and twisted the token of their engagement, every touch being directly transmitted to her clamped bud, stimulating her wildly.

As she was presented to Rob's rugby teammates, she found that, not only did they wish to toy with her nice new jewellery, they took every opportunity to grope her breasts or fondle and pinch her buttocks, until she was lost in a mounting sexual frenzy.

At last, as she seemed on the verge of climax, Rob led her away, wishing everyone a fond farewell and promising to deal with her obvious excitement just as soon as he got her home. Samantha staggered on wobbly legs as they left, still in a stupefied daze at what had just happened. I don't believe it, she thought, I'm engaged! And not only that, but to my Master! Oh, I am going to give him such a good blowjob when we get home!

"I thought we should go and see your parents tomorrow," Rob was saying as they approached the foyer, "tell them the happy news." Samantha nodded her agreement, delighted that he wanted to make things official so quickly.

"I wonder how they'll react when they see their beloved daughter, collared and chained - naked of course - committing herself to life as a sex slave. I'm sure they'll be very understanding and supportive…"

Samantha looked at him sharply, hoping to detect an ironic, mischievous smile to signify that he was joking, but receiving no such reassurance. No no no, she thought, that's ridiculous, he can't be serious!

Can he?!

THE END