Mitch looked out of the window at the trussed figure hanging close to the ceiling of the workshop space below, watching it twitch from time to time, and wondered about what he had done over the last two days, and what he planned for today.

He could not believe the opportunity which had fallen into his lap. He had always fantasised about taking complete control of a woman and using her in whatever way he wished, without having to compromise to accommodate her needs or wants. This woman, Stephanie, had literally thrown herself at him, almost begging him to treat her badly.

Sure, she had regretted it pretty quickly, once she realised what Mitch was into. But it was too late by then, she was already helpless and desperate to find any way to ameliorate the worst of his torture. She had agreed to play the part of his slave and had suffered all of the humiliation and degradation that he had heaped upon her without protest or dissent.

It had been exhilarating to watch her endure the mounting torrent of abuse, to see her obvious disgust and discomfort at the things she was forced to do, but there was something else. He had subjected her to all kinds of sexual assault, including making her partake in group sex with multiple partners. Her face conveyed the clear message that this was happening against her will and was an unacceptable way for her to be treated.

But her body told a different story. She had responded to every situation with wanton abandon. He accepted that she was receiving a high level of sexual stimulation, and that, to some degree, she was complying merely to avoid more violent assault with whip and crop, but he was still amazed by the alacrity, even enthusiasm, with which she partook in these activities. She had taken everything that had been thrown at her and come back for more. She had enjoyed multiple orgasms at the hands of complete strangers.

And it wasn’t just the sex. He had publicly exposed her in highly embarrassing circumstances, and he had expected her to crumble. Instead, he had seen from the look in her eyes that she was getting off on this kind of humiliation. It had surprised him, and now he looked at her, squirming on the winch like a worm on a hook, and wondered - could she satisfy his ultimate fantasy?

He knew there was only one way to find out. It would mean exposing himself emotionally in a way he had never done before, and that thought made him deeply uncomfortable. But he knew he had to take that chance, it could be the only one he ever had to get what he really wanted. As he stared at the naked, suspended woman, he devised his plan. Fixing his resolve, he went downstairs to the workshop and activated the winch to lower her from her eyrie.

“Good morning, slave,” he said as he brought her gently to the floor, supporting her until she was down so that she didn’t get hurt, and removed her bondage, “I trust you slept well.”

“Yes, Master,” Stephanie lied, struggling against stiff and aching limbs to present herself correctly before him. She had hardly slept a wink. The vibrator had kept her awake and forced her to multiple orgasms before the batteries expired.

After that, she had dozed fitfully, waking with a start every few minutes with the feeling that she was plunging to her death. In her confused and terrified state, she fought to put out her arms to save herself, before she remembered that she was tightly bound in leather straps, suspended upside down in the darkness. It had been a long, long night.

Mitch smiled to himself, knowing that she had lied - he had seen the fear in her eyes and heard the desperate whimpers both times he had hoisted her to the ceiling. Her lies were a small, pathetic show of defiance. But, at the same time, she knelt before him submissively, eyes downcast, hands behind her head, and her body made available to him.

“I forgot to ask,” he remarked offhandedly, “do you prefer to be called ‘Steph’ or ‘Stephanie’?”

“Only my mother called me ‘Stephanie’, Master,” she responded, continuing, “my friends all call me ‘Steph’.” Then she realised what she had just said. Friend? Am I suggesting that he can be my friend?!

“’Stephanie’ it is then,” he smiled, “I like the idea that only your mother and I refer to you that way. Would you like some breakfast, Stephanie?”

“Yes please, Master!” she replied with feeling, “I’m so hungry!” She glanced up at him, confused by the question, and by its tone. Is he being nice to me today, she wondered, and if so, why? He’s probably just softening me up for some new torture!

He clipped the chain dog leash he had brought with him to her collar and, holding the leather strap and giving it a gentle flick, encouraged her to her feet. He led her across the cold concrete and up the stairs to the dining table in the living area.

“Slaves don’t get to use the furniture,” he admonished good-naturedly as she moved to sit down, “kneel down here while I prepare the food.” Stephanie knelt beside the table and resumed her submissive posture. I don’t care how much he humiliates me, she thought, I just need that food!

The smell of frying bacon, eggs, toast and coffee soon filled the room, making Stephanie almost drool in Pavlovian response. Her stomach rumbled in protest as he brought the breakfast to the table but, when she saw that there was only one plate and one coffee cup, her feeling of excited anticipation turned to one of dismay. When he sat down and began to eat, she desperately wanted to speak, to complain at her treatment, to beg him to let her eat, but she knew that such behaviour would only anger him. Instead, she sat miserably, hands behind her head, staring at his shoes forlornly.

Aware of her anguish at his side, Mitch tormented her by eating his fill before loading up his fork with bacon and eggs and offering it to her. She looked at the food in surprise, before cautiously leaning forward, taking the fork between her lips and devouring the bacon and eggs, a look of sheer bliss suffusing her face.

He fed her the rest of the food on his plate, interspersed with sips of coffee and bites of buttered toast. He smiled at her evident enjoyment of the simple meal.

“Thank you, Master,” she said when there was no more to eat. Even though she knew that her hunger had been caused solely by his mistreatment the previous day, she felt pathetically grateful for what she had now received. He wiped her lips with his napkin and looked into her face more closely than he had before.

“You’re a very pretty woman, Stephanie,” he told her appreciatively, stroking her smooth cheek.

“Thank you, Master,” she murmured submissively in response, finding her emotions strangely conflicted. He’s treating me like a whore and talking to me like a child, she thought, but it still feels so good to be wanted. To be desired! Am I sick to find this horny?!

“I find you irresistible like this,” he went on, “and, as you’re my slave, I don’t need to resist. Come!” He gave the lead a sharp tug and walked her through to the bedroom. Despite being fully aware that he was about to abuse her further, Stephanie felt her excitement rising.

Her burgeoning arousal stalled when she saw a large rectangular sheet of black rubber within a tubular frame laid out on the floor. She watched in uncertain confusion as Mitch bent down and unzipped the rubber along one side, revealing that it was actually a bag rather than a sheet.

“Okay, you need to slide in here,” he said, holding the side of the bag open. Hesitantly, Stephanie laid down on the carpet and shuffled herself sideways between the thin sheets of black latex, until Mitch indicated that she was in the correct position.

“Take that tube into your mouth,” he ordered, “and spread your arms and legs towards the corners.” The tube was quite short and moulded into the rubber so that, when she had gripped it between her teeth, she was breathing the air outside the bag. She splayed her limbs wide, feeling the soft material brushing against her skin. She glanced to her side and saw the sliver of light from the slit through which she had crawled quickly disappear as he zipped the bag closed.

Mitch looked down at her indistinct form under the topsheet, noticing how rapid her breathing through the hole was as a combination of fear and excitement gripped her. He attached a hose to the corner of the frame and switched on the pump.

Slowly, the two rubber sheets collapsed together. The spreadeagled form gradually became clearer as the latex became more and more constricting. Initially, just the shape of the body, head and limbs were visible but, as the air was pumped out of the bag, fingers were outlined, facial features clarified, the indistinct mounds resolved themselves into rounded breasts with nipples standing to attention.

The black rubber sank into her navel, the creases at her knees and elbows grew more distinct, and the steel at her neck, wrists and ankles, with the protruding D rings, stood out as the only unnatural features. The only gaps in this sea of black were the hole through which she was breathing, and a second, lower hole, through which could be seen the white flesh of her labia.

Inside the vacuum sack, Stephanie gradually felt her panic rising. She heard the faint noise of the air pump and, almost immediately, the gradual, inexorable shrinking of the space around her. At first, she moved around, squirming, trying to sit up or get back to the place where she had entered this curious prison, but it quickly became more and more difficult. It was like walking in treacle, or sinking into quicksand.

Soon, she was trapped like an insect on flypaper, unable to move an arm or a leg, even a finger or a toe, no matter how hard she tried. She could feel the latex moulding itself around her, closing off her nostrils, blocking her ears, pinning her eyelids shut. No sight, no sound, no smell, no ability to touch. Frightened by her total isolation, Stephanie could do nothing but wait to discover her fate.

Mitch looked down at the outline below him with satisfaction. He picked up the shine spray and proceeded to polish up his suddenly anonymous slave with loving care and great attention to detail. Her body felt beautifully soft and vulnerable beneath his cloth as he brought the latex to a shimmering gloss from head to foot.

He felt her shiver, and heard her moans, as he concentrated on her breasts and inner thighs for some considerable time. For him, the most curious aspect of this was the act of polishing her face and hair. It made him imagine that he was working with a statue made of obsidian, an illusion broken only by the fact that he could see her ribcage expand and contract under the latex.

For Stephanie, it was a unique experience. Having been deprived of most of her senses, she was now being subjected to sensory overload. The feel of his touch seemed to be immeasurably amplified by the thin layer of rubber between them, and she became intensely aroused as every part of her body, from the tips of her fingers to the soles of her feet, was stimulated by the constant rubbing.

She strained within the latex to express her growing need to the outside world but, held immobile by the vacuum suction, all she could do was moan urgently through the breathing tube, trying to encourage him to satisfy her.

Mitch smiled at the obvious desire he had generated within his trapped slave, and he deemed it time to relieve that pent-up need. He positioned himself, kneeling on the sheet between her spread legs, and lowered his head to the small area of exposed skin, ready to begin.

Stephanie screamed in surprise and delight when she felt his tongue move across her sensitive, swollen labia. The agile tip explored her, working its way between her hot pussy lips and seeking out her love bud, bringing another cry, almost an ululation, from her. The sensations flowed as he flicked her clitoris backwards and forwards, side to side, circling it, pressing down on it, sucking on it.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she gasped for breath through the restrictive opening. She lifted up the whole vacuum bag and frame in her desperate thrashing, but the clinging rubber gave her no degree of freedom whatsoever. When she climaxed, it seemed to hit her harder than she could ever remember experiencing in the past. Every muscle in her body tensed, including those in her throat, and the sound which she emitted was strangulated as she struggled to cope with the waves of pleasure washing over her, the orgasm extending for long minutes.

Mitch sat back and watched the spectacle as the fireworks display went off before him. He waited until her breathing had returned to something like normal, then leaned in again to repeat the exercise. He managed to bring her to a similarly extravagant climax another three times before the ache in his jaw and the base of this tongue became too much to bear. At that point, he switched to the Hitachi wand.

Stephanie lost track of the number of times she had cum before, at last, there was a respite. Exhaustion suddenly overwhelmed her and, still trapped in the vacuum bed, unable to move, unable to see or hear her lover, she fell into a deep, contented sleep. Mitch shook his head in wonderment as her breathing became even and he recognised what had happened. Amazing, he thought, she’s in the ultimate restrictive bondage, yet she’s so relaxed and feels safe enough to give up the last vestige of control - control of her own consciousness!

When she finally awoke, Stephanie found that the vacuum had been released and she was being helped out of the bag. She was astonished to see that the daylight had faded, and realised that she must have spent several hours in total confinement.

That was the most incredible experience of my life, she thought, and realised that several of the most incredible experiences of life had all occurred in the past two days. She had to acknowledge that some of her most painful and frightening experiences had also taken place in that time. A struggle over how to react to this blizzard of events and the emotions they had produced raged within her.

Mitch took her into his walk-in shower room and, having stripped out of all of his clothes, joined her under the cascade of warm water. He held her tightly and kissed her on the lips for the first time, feeling her respond by putting her arms around him and opening her mouth to receive his probing tongue. They pressed their wet bodies together, her breasts sliding over his muscled chest, while he ground his hips and groin against her suggestively.

Stephanie pushed back from him slightly and sank to her knees before him, reaching out with her open mouth to engage with his manhood.

“You… you don’t have to do this, Stephanie,” he managed to say.

“No, Master, I know that,” she replied in a sultry tone, “but I want to.”

Mitch didn’t bother to argue further. He accepted her gift of another expert blowjob gratefully and with great pleasure. Afterwards, they washed each other lovingly and very thoroughly, taking the opportunity to run their hands all over each other’s body and, by the time they had finished, Mitch was ready again. He lifted her up by her thighs and lowered her onto his erection. She wrapped her arms around his neck and, together, they reached a mutually satisfying climax.

Once they had dried themselves and each other, they went through to the bedroom, where Mitch presented Stephanie with the clothes he wanted her to wear. These are exactly my size, she thought suspiciously, when did he buy these?!

She stepped into the dress, a red, backless mini-cocktail dress, which hugged her body wherever it touched her. There was also a pair of strappy sandals with about a three inch heel.

“You look fantastic,” Mitch breathed.

“Thank you, Master,” Stephanie replied, going down on her knees and spreading her legs. Mitch felt his arousal mount once again, but resisted the temptation to turn his slave and take her from behind. He went to a drawer and took out the key to her restraints, returning to release her from the cuffs and, finally, the collar.

“Thank you, Master,” Stephanie said as the steel was removed from her neck.

“You don’t have to call me ‘Master’ when you’re not wearing my collar, Stephanie,” he informed her as he took her hands and brought her to her feet. “I’ll take you home now if you want me to. But, actually, I’d like to take you to dinner, if you’d allow it. What do you say?”

Dinner, Stephanie thought, after all you’ve done to me?! I should tell you to stuff it! But… I don’t know… there’s something about you…

“Okay,” she replied with a nervous smile, wondering if this could be a new start for their relationship.

“Excellent,” Mitch smiled, delighted that he had got over the first hurdle, but nervous about the Beecher’s Brook he was now approaching. “But there’s something I need you to do first.” He reached into the drawer and passed her a thin, rectangular box. She looked at it, and then at him, confused and a little frightened. What’s this, she thought, another test? Haven’t I done enough for you already?!

She opened the box and saw a golden circle, a necklace, but like no other she had seen before. She stared at him questioningly, silently urging him to explain himself.

“It’s rather more dressy,” he continued, his voice more firm and confident than he felt, “but it’s a slave collar, just like the one I took off you. If you choose to wear it, you will be my slave, just as before.” Stephanie looked down at the necklace once more, now seeing it for what it was, and being frightened by it.

“You want me to wear this… outside? To the restaurant?!”

“The truth is, Stephanie,” Mitch replied, keeping himself icily calm, “I want you to wear my collar at all times. I want you to be my slave 24/7. The trip to the restaurant is merely to let you test whether you could contemplate such a life.” Having said what he needed to, he waited for the outraged rejection of his indecent proposal.

Stephanie stared at him in mute astonishment. You want what?! You want me to be your slave twenty four hours a day, seven days a week?! How is that even possible?! How can I go to work, see my friends, see my family, wearing a slave collar?! Okay, it’s not obvious, like the other one, but they will ask about it - who gave it to me, what does it mean - and what will I say then?!

And yet… now it comes to it, I don’t want this adventure to end! My life has certainly become more exciting than I could ever have hoped or dreamed a few days ago. Maybe I need someone else to be in control? Maybe I actually am submissive and, deep down, secretly want to be a sex slave… his sex slave. Is that really what I want?!

“I’ll wear it for tonight,” she stated firmly, trying to convince herself that her resolve was as firm. “It’s still Sunday, and I agreed to be your slave through the weekend. So this isn’t an extension, merely fulfilling my obligation.”

“Of course,” Mitch smiled as he locked the gold-plated titanium band around her throat, rotating the attachment ring to the front. He watched as Stephanie checked herself in the mirror, running her fingers along the metal, searching for the locking mechanism at the back, with its flush cover over the Allen key socket. They both knew that she could not remove it without help and the right key.

“Assume the position, slave,” he barked, pleased by the unthinking manner in which she rushed to present herself before him. He clipped his lead to the attachment ring and led her to his bike.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Stephanie was impressed. It was one of the hottest places in the city, Michelin starred and regularly in the gossip columns. He must have some pull to have got us in here, Stephanie thought, maybe there’s more to him than I’ve so far seen.

“Can I help you, sir?” the maitre d’ asked when they entered.

“I have a reservation in the name of Chambers,” Mitch said. At last, I know his full name, Stephanie thought, I’ll have to Google him when I get home! The maitre d’ was looking at his booking sheet with a frown.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said smoothly, “someone wrote down your booking as for only one person? The restaurant is completely full tonight, and…”

“That’s alright,” Mitch interrupted, “there was no mistake. A table for one is fine.” The maitre d’ looked at Stephanie with an expression of confusion then, as if for the first time, at the collar around her neck and the leash being held loosely by the gentleman beside her. He gave a brief, tight smile, and led them into the main part of the restaurant.

The place was, indeed, full and, as they walked towards the back of the room, Stephanie blushed as heads turned towards them. Conversation died momentarily as they passed, before resuming, and she could only imagine that the new subject of their chatter was the girl in the strange necklace being led around like a dog.

“I’ll have a second place set for you, sir,” the maitre d’ said when they reached the table.

“No need,” Mitch said offhandedly, and clicked his fingers, pointing to the floor beside the chair. Understanding the unspoken command, Stephanie looked around in alarm, finding that all the diners close by were watching her. Her eyes locked with those of the maitre d’, seeing an expression of growing panic in his face as he began to realise what was going to happen.

Swallowing her feelings of embarrassment and humiliation, Stephanie knelt down on the parquet flooring, spreading her knees wide and putting her hands behind her head. She stared with furious concentration at the floor in front of her, avoiding any possible eye contact. Mitch sat in the chair beside her and, studiously ignoring her, turned his attention to the menu.

When the waiter arrived, Mitch ordered starter, main course and wine for himself. The waiter, clearly confused by the situation, turned to the woman on her knees.

“Would-“ he began, but was interrupted by Mitch handing him the menu and, with a slight shake of his head, indicating that the waiter already had the complete order. After an uncertain look between the man smiling at him and the woman with her eyes on the floor, he moved away.

The meal proceeded much as breakfast had earlier. Mitch presented Stephanie with morsels of the excellent food as and when he felt like it, allowing her to sip from his wineglass from time to time. Stephanie maintained her posture, moving only to accept each offering and carefully take the food from the fork before her. She could feel the eyes of the customers around them boring into the back of her head, and her embarrassment at this very public humiliation accounted for her red cheeks. At least, that is what she told herself, although the heat between her legs and the feeling of dampness on her thigh could not be accounted for by this explanation.

When the meal was over, there was some commotion by the kitchen door and the chef, accompanied by several of the sous chefs, bustled over to their table. Mitch smiled at him and complemented the kitchen staff on having delivered such excellent food. Even while they accepted the compliments and responded to them gratefully, none of them diverted their eyes from Stephanie.

Having paid the bill, Mitch finally stood and picked up the end of the leash hanging down the front of Stephanie’s dress. He indicated for her to rise with a slight upward pull on the chain, and they made their way out of the restaurant to the motorbike.

“Now you have a choice,” Mitch said, turning to face Stephanie, “I can take the collar off, take you home, and you resume your life as it was before. I can leave the collar on, take you home, and you continue with your life but as my slave. Always wearing my collar and serving me whenever and how ever I demand. Or, I can take you back with me and you begin your new life as my full-time slave. Which is it to be?”

Stephanie looked at him with a mixture of fear, uncertainty, hope and desperation on her face.

“May I ask a question, Master?” she asked tremulously. Mitch nodded and, screwing up her courage, she continued. “If I remain your slave, Master, will you… hurt me?” He wasn’t surprised by the question. He already had his answer prepared.

“This simple answer is ‘yes’,” he stated flatly, “I will, from time to time, inflict my sadistic urges on you. It may take the form of psychological torment, such as playing on your fear of heights to frighten you, or inflicting extreme humiliation or degradation on you, as you experienced tonight. But there will also be corporal punishment, on occasion. The fact is that I take pleasure in making you scream, making you suffer. That’s just part of who I am.

“It won’t be too often, but it will happen. I find you fascinating, Stephanie, more fascinating than any woman I’ve ever known before. I want to explore your limits in many areas, to push them, to break them. You are my ultimate fantasy, Stephanie. I hope you’ll allow me to take you on an incredible adventure.”

Stephanie was astonished by this speech. She had never been the subject of such passion, and she believed that it was genuine, heartfelt passion. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and gave him her answer.

The next morning, Charles Hargreaves settled in to go through the paperwork before him. The library was, as yet, almost deserted, with some of the staff still to arrive before they opened to the faculty in a few minutes.

He was annoyed when he heard his office door open, interrupting his precious ‘quiet time’, and he pointedly didn’t look up, making the person wait in front of him until he reached a convenient point to pause. When he finally looked up, his jaw dropped in astonishment.

It was the girl from Saturday, the girl on the motorbike, but she was different. The full-face helmet and mirrored visor, concealing her identity, were the same, as were the thick steel collar around her neck and manacles at her wrists and ankles. But instead of the skirt and top she had worn on that occasion, she was clad from neck to ankle in the black, shiny rubber of a catsuit so tight that her nipples stood out prominently and the smooth latex over her pussy hinted that she was clean-shaven.

“W-what’s the meaning of this?!” Hargreaves asked in alarm. In response, the woman took off her helmet and smiled down at him.

“Stephanie?! What… what’s going on?!” the startled librarian stuttered.

“This is my letter of resignation,” she replied, putting a single sheet of paper on the desk in front of him, “effective immediately. I’d like to take this opportunity to say that, over the years that I worked here, you have been an awful manager. You have repeatedly passed me over for promotion in favour of less qualified male colleagues, and you’ve belittled me in front of senior members of the University administration. It gives me great pleasure to finally be able to say: FUCK YOU!”

She turned on her spiked heel and walked away. The stunned administrator watched, mesmerised by the light bouncing off the shiny globes of her pert bottom, as she sashayed out of the door.

Stephanie gave a confident smile to her former workmates, Amanda and Denise, who stared at the fetish vision aghast, wondering what had happened to their staid and conservative colleague.

She swept out of the building and mounted the motorbike behind her Master, riding off to her new life…

THE END