Kelsey had come to the conclusion that this was all rather too much.

It had just been one silly bet that she had lost. Just a stupid drunken bet.

When she had said that she would be Monica’s slave for a week, she had expected the usual sort of forfeit. Doing her laundry, helping her with class projects, cleaning up around her apartment. The normal things that college students wanted done by someone other than them. And she did do that stuff. Just, well…with a few more…extras added in to her daily routine.

Monica had insisted on Kelsey cleaning in a fetish maid outfit. Worse, she had locked Kelsey into cuffs and a collar, and gagged her after Kelsey protested. Kelsey had tried to explain that this was all a bit much, but talking out of turn had earned her additional punishments, lost her the privilege of going home at night, and lengthened the terms of her ‘week of servitude’ several additional days. On her good days Monica allowed her to sleep chained to the bed. On days when Monica felt she had underperformed, there was a large dog crate in the closet where she “put her toy away for the evening.” Kelsey desperately wanted to protest, to call it quits and halt the daily humiliation of actually being a slave, but Monica’s punishments for talking out of turn had done their work.

Kelsey just told herself every day, sometimes every hour, that she just had to endure it. Just soldier through the punishments, the mockery, the exacting servitude to her ‘friend’ and this nightmare would be behind her.

Days later, as Kelsey tried to adjust to the changed parameters of her service, she began to discover that Monica had a whole host of games she wanted to play with her new ‘pet.’ When Kelsey found just how sexy and sensual the games were, and how much her body ached and reacted to them, Monica had promptly informed her that every orgasm she begged for would also add a day to her slave term. Since she was so desperate for pleasure, she clearly needed the continued discipline of having someone in charge of her days, of her body, of her pleasure. Monica would be that person for her. After all, with the right tools, and with Kelsey bound helplessly before her, she could play the girl’s body like a skilled musician. Coaxing the sweetest music, the most wonderful orgasms from her, with all the dexterity of a master player.

Two weeks had gone by. Two weeks of servitude which continued to be humiliating for Kelsey, yet also thrilled her whenever Monica played with her. Even knowing that she was extending her time as a slave, Kelsey could hardly help herself when Monica began to work on her, to pleasure her, to demonstrate to them both over and over that she owned her. At the two week mark, Kelsey still owed three more weeks of slavery. It was a vicious cycle, and not one that she felt any closer to breaking out of and finally paying down her debt.

Such was the state of her mind that she hardly even thought of rejecting the terms under which they were playing. That Kelsey, the Kelsey who could reasonably think straight, had been buried beneath a fetish and pleasure craving Kelsey. A Kelsey that, despite dearly wanting free and clear of this situation, also luxuriated in the attention that her Mistress paid to her during their pleasure sessions. Exquisite sensation, artful indulgence, and inescapable ownership. Kelsey craved, and loathed these things in their turn. Lusting after her Mistress, and desperately wanting to break free of her.

So when Mistress Monica had told her that participating in a local BDSM convention, in public bondage, would knock a full week off her time, Kelsey had leapt at the opportunity.

Only now did she realize how truly public the event was going to be, and how Monica intended her to be dressed and bound for it. No hood. No obscuring of her face at all, and barely enough to maintain a scrap of dignity. Plenty of leather straps to keep her secure and helpless. A thick leather collar to proclaim her subservient status. And of course, the plugs. Only now was she truly cognizant of how the plugs down below felt as she shifted around, dreading their being turned on. Only now did Monica finally inform her that each orgasm obtained today, begged for or not, would result in an extra day of slavery. Right before she clicked the vibrators to life, and led a squealing Kelsey out onto the convention street space…