It was apparent as soon as we started fucking that Carrie was as good as

her word. Her mood was bright, and she was enthusiastically

participating in some very unrestrained sex. We were laughing and joking

a lot of the time, which might sound strange to some, but was an earmark

of some of our most enjoyable sex. When we had both cum several times,

we switched to a more relaxed tempo, while talking about miscellaneous,

non hill-climbing subjects. I asked Carrie if she was willing to renew

her wedding vows this weekend. "Oh, I had forgotten," she said. "You

want to reshoot our wedding with me in my new gown. Sure, that would be

fun, maybe we can make a few minor changes to improve the ceremony."

Our first ceremony had been prepared in only a few minutes, and we had

both agreed later we could have done a better job. Now was our chance,

and I told her we should talk about it over lunch. Carrie was sitting

astride me and humping me at a leisurely pace. I noticed that the brown

dye we had applied to her nipples and areolas had faded noticeably, and

pointed that out to her. Looking down, she agreed, and said we should

reapply it before the wedding, and this time make it much darker. I

agreed, and asked her what else we should dye, since hadn't shown any

allergic reactions to the dye.

"Do you still want my pussy bright red?" she asked. I told her I didn't

think I would like that in the long run, although I admitted it would be

striking. I asked her how she thought Philip would react to that.

"Never, mind, Master," she said, "I wouldn't want Philip to see me like

that."

I told her there was one other thing I would like to do to her, and that

was to put my initials on her body, sort of like a tattoo without the

needles. She said that was a great idea, and asked if we could paint

"owned by" plus my initials on her. I suggested we could do it on the

inside of her thighs, just below her crotch. If we kept it small, it

wouldn't be noticeable unless she spread her legs. She liked the idea,

so I charged her with deciding the exact words and placement.

Finally, we seemed to be approaching the end of the insatiable phase of

our sexual relationship. Previously, after we had cycled through all of

our favorite positions and perhaps tried a few new ones, we would both

be ready to start all over again. Now it seemed that one cycle would

satisfy both of us for at least a few hours. I thought that was sad in a

way, but at the same time I knew we, especially me, wouldn't be able to

keep up our original pace indefinitely. We came together one last time,

and Carrie stretched out on top of me for some finishing kisses.

After a few minutes of nuzzling, I asked Carrie if she was too tired to

do her weight training, and she said No, she would like to do that. As

we were walking to the spare bedroom, I told her to decide during her

exercise what we would write on her thighs, and we would do the dyeing

right after exercise. She said she had already decided, it would be

"Slave of" on one thigh, and my initials on the other. I asked her why

she wanted "Slave" rather than "Property." She said because we were each

other's property, but she was my Slave, and that made it simpler. I

laughed and complimented her on her analysis. She thought I was teasing

her, but I said I was giving her a genuine compliment because her

decision made perfect sense.

After Carrie's exercise, I took her to the kitchen for a glass of water,

then we showered. I made sure I soaped, then rinsed Carrie's breasts and

inner thighs thoroughly. Once we were both dried off, Carrie lay down on

her back on the bed, and I rounded up the equipment. I got some makeup

remover and cotton swabs from Carrie's dresser, and thoroughly cleaned

her nipples, areolas, and the inside of her thighs to remove as much

body oil as possible. Like before, she said I was turning her on during

this process.

We had decided to use the brown dye for both applications. Before

applying the dye, I told her we should leave it on an hour this time to

make a darker effect, and reminded her that she would have to remain

still for that time. She groaned, but said to go ahead. I applied the

dye to her breasts, being careful to exactly match the natural outlines

of her areolas. Once I had a thick dye coating on her breasts, I moved

to her open thighs. First I stenciled what we had agreed to using a

ballpoint pen, then showed it to Carrie with a hand mirror. When she

agreed that it was Ok, I carefully traced over the writing with a Q-tip

that was saturated with the dye. It was soon finished, and as I was

putting everything away I reminded Carrie not to move.

I ran to the basement and shortly returned with "The Story of O."

Pulling up a chair beside the bed, I told Carrie we would start again

from the beginning, and when I got to a part she found exciting or

stimulating, she would tell me and we would talk about it. She started

to object, but I gave her a stern look and said, "Are you going to

disobey your Master, whose initials are being imprinted on your thigh as

we speak?"

I only expected a "No, Master," but she actually smiled as she said it.

I told her to relax and listen to the story, then began reading to her.

We didn't get very far into the book during that hour. It turned out

that every description of O's treatment by the other characters in the

story excited Carrie. The opening pages, O partly undressed by her lover

in the presence of another man, O bathed and dressed by the uniformed

women, her first fitting with the slave bonds, it all made Carrie hot.

And by the time we got to O's presentation to the masters, and her first

fucking and whipping, Carrie's juices were running down her ass onto the

bed. She became very embarrassed that I now knew this secret about her.

It was hard not to be amused by her predicament, but I knew that would

be the worst reaction I could show her right now. Later, of course, when

she had overcome this inhibition, we would both look back and laugh

about it.

At the end of the hour I put the book down, to Carrie's visible relief,

and began carefully removing the dye residue. I talked to her as I

worked, first asking her when she had first read the book. She gave me a

quick look of recognition, realizing I knew that she had read it - or at

least some passages - more than once. She said she started reading it

after her first interview with the organization. I asked her many more

question, trying to understand if she saw herself as O, in the

situations O experienced, during her time at the organization. The short

answer was, Yes.

Carrie was getting more agitated as I continued to press her on the

subject. I decided to back off for awhile, but not forever. The final

question I asked her was, "Were you disappointed to find that you would

only be trained by one man, rather than several different men?" She had

been pushed a little too far, and she got angry. She asked me what I

wanted to hear. I looked at her and smiled, and said "I want the truth,

Slave, and I want it right now."

That took her back a little, and her attitude softened. She was

thoughtful for a few moments, then she said, "Master, I thought I would

be required to have sex with many people after I became a slave, but I

wanted to be a slave in spite of that, not because of it. I did expect

to be trained by more than one man, possibly even by a mix of men and

... women. But what you really want to know is, 'Do I wish I was having

sex with anyone other than you?' The answer is No. Not now, not ever."

"I was sure that was the answer, Carrie, but here's why I asked: Now

that I realize how strongly you identify with O, I'll try to find ways

to recreate some of the book's situations for you. Of course, there's

just the two of us here, but I'm sure I can think of some scenarios

you'll find interesting. And if we're ever free to leave here, the

possibilities open up even more."

Now she was blushing. "Master, you wouldn't give me to other men, you

promised that wouldn't happen!" I told her I hadn't known she had these

kinds of fantasies then. But I promised her nothing would be done to her

without her consent, and we would always talk about it before any firm

plans were made. I didn't want to tell her yet, but it wasn't other men

I wanted to see her with, it was other women.

When I had removed all of the dye, I went to the bathroom and returned

with a damp washcloth. After rubbing the washcloth lightly over the dyed

areas, I showed that there was no dye residue on the cloth. She wanted

to know how she looked. I told her she would have to see for herself,

and had her close her eyes while I pulled her off the bed and led her to

the mirror. I told her to open her eyes and look at the stunning woman

in front of her.

Carrie gasped when she saw how dark her areolas were. They were a

perfectly uniform chocolate brown. She frowned as she looked at me in

the mirror, and asked, "Are they too dark for you, Master?"

I reached around her and cradled her breasts in my hands. "They're

beautiful, Carrie. I think we should keep them this dark from now on.

What do you think?"

She smiled and put her hands over mine. "If my Master likes them, I like

them," she said. I slid my hands out from under hers and told her to

stimulate her nipples for a little while. Sliding my hands slowly down

her sides and over her belly, I began lightly touching and teasing her

labia, then penetrated her with several fingers. She leaned back against

me and closed her eyes, but I told her to watch her beautiful breasts

while she played with her nipples.

After a few minutes, I positioned a chair in front of the mirror and sat

Carrie at the front edge of the chair. She opened her legs wide to look

at the message on her thighs. She laughed and said, "Oh, Master, you

wrote it backwards." I said I was sorry she would never see the message

the way I saw it, and told her how proud and happy it made me to see

another mark of her Master on her body.

I sat on the floor in front of Carrie and took her labia in my fingers,

eliciting a deep sigh. I told her we were going to do something we had

never done before, and it might be a bit uncomfortable at first, but we

would take it as slowly as she wanted. Then I let go of her with one

hand and slowly penetrated her pussy with a finger. She smiled down at

me and said she liked that. After lightly moving around the walls of her

vagina and moving in and out for a minute, I withdrew the finger and

then pushed two fingers into her. Repeating the process, I then slowly

pushed all four fingers a small way into her. She gasped. "Just relax,

and open for your Master," I told her. I left my fingers just inside her

vagina for a moment, then started gently moving, twisting my wrist back

and forth slowly and pushing ever deeper into her.

When I had all four fingers in Carrie up to the last joint, I asked her

how it felt. She said I was stretching her, and it hurt. I said it hurt

because she wasn't opening herself to her Master, and that she needed to

relax. She said she would try, and asked how much farther I was going. I

told her I was going to put my whole hand in her, far enough that I

could penetrate her cervix with a finger. She begged me not to do that,

but I told her to be quiet and concentrate on opening herself for her

Master.

Tucking my thumb into my palm, I tried to make my hand as small and

rounded as possible, then began very slowly pushing farther into her,

rotating my wrist back and forth as I pressed farther in. I softly

repeated the command "Open," over and over as I burrowed into her. She

didn't speak again, but she began making whimpering sounds. I stopped

moving, and asked her what was wrong. She gave me a pleading look and

asked me again to please stop. I asked her if the pain was too much, and

she said she was afraid. "Look down at my hand, Carrie, and see how

you've opened for me," I told her.

She kept her eyes locked onto mine, and shook her head. "Please, Master,

I don't like this," she said. I told her to look down right now, and

describe what she saw. She took a breath, looked down at my hand, and

gasped. "Your hand is in my pussy, almost up to your wrist, Master."

"Can you open a little more for me, Carrie? We'll stop immediately if

you're in pain, but I don't think you are. I think you're just afraid.

Your pussy has never been this open for your Master, and it's a strange

experience for you. If you want me to stop, it's your decision."

She looked me in the eyes again, took a deep breath, and asked me to

kiss her. Being careful not to move my hand inside her, I reached up and

gave her a tender kiss. She smiled, and said, "I'm yours, Master, use me

any way you choose."

"If I was just using your pussy, Carrie, I would have my cock in you,

not my hand. I want this to be an experience we share. Tell me how it

makes you feel, having my entire hand inside you."

"I can't describe it, Master. I've run out of new ways to describe how

submissive you make me feel. You own me, you control me, I'm yours for

whatever you want." I pushed my hand a little farther, until my fingers

were up against her cervix.

I pushed against her cervix, and her eyes opened very large. She was

gripping the chair arms so hard that her hands were trembling. "Open for

me, Carrie, I want to be inside your womb. Just a finger for now, open

for your Master."

"Oh, God," she said, and she opened. My middle finger slid through her

cervix. I smiled at her and told her she was my good girl. She gave me a

weak smile in return, and whispered "I'm so embarrassed, and so afraid,

but I love you more than life. I'm yours to command, Master." I told her

that was as far as we would go for now, but I wanted her to experience

one more thing before I removed my hand. I told her to ask me to curl my

fingers into a fist. She groaned, but we both knew she was now beyond

denying me anything I wanted from her. "Master, please make a fist in

me. I want to feel your fist in my pussy, fucking your Slave. Please

fuck me hard with your fist, Master."

"No, Carrie," I said quietly, "I'm not going to fuck you hard with my

fist. But I want you to feel my fist in your vagina. You want that too,

don't you Carrie?" She nodded her head.

I pulled my hand back a little, until my finger was clear of her cervix.

Slowly and carefully, I moved my thumb to the side and curled my fingers

into a fist. "Oh, God," Carrie said again, "I can't believe how that

feels. Please, Master, move your fist inside me. Please be careful,

don't hurt me, but I want to feel your fist move. Can you rotate your

hand, Master? Very slowly, please."

"I'll be happy to move my hand for you, Carrie. Would you like to cum

for me while I move my hand in your beautiful, tight pussy?"

"Yes, Master, may I please cum with your fist inside me?"

"Cum now, Carrie, as many times as you like," I told her. Immediately

the heat, the fluid release, the muscle contractions, were flooding my

hand with sensations. I thought this was as close as I would ever come

to understanding how her orgasms felt. I knew the pleasure of my own

orgasms, and now I had an idea how hers felt from the inside. Somehow,

this was much more intimate than when my cock was inside her during an

orgasm.

After Carrie had cum many times, I told her I was going to slowly remove

my hand, and I wanted her to watch as I came out of her. Leaving my

fingers curled into a fist, I slowly pulled back, rotating my hand at

the wrist as I retreated from her pussy. She watched my hand come out of

her, then she looked up at me, tears running down her cheeks.

"Did I hurt you, Carrie," I asked, putting my dry hand to the side of

her face.

"Only a little at first. But Master, you took me in the most literal

sense possible. You own my soul now, Master. All of my barriers are

down, I'm afraid I'm lost."

"You're not lost, Carrie. Trust me, I will never take advantage of your

vulnerability, just as I trust you not to take advantage of mine."

She looked at me sharply. "Is it true, Master? Can you still love me

after what you just did, what I let you do to me?"

"We just explored a new avenue of sexual expression, Carrie, that's all

that happened. It was an intense experience for both of us, but we're

the same people we were before. Nothing has changed. With time and

repetition, this will become another method of giving and receiving

pleasure, and you'll see that our love and our partnership are as solid

as ever."

"No matter what you say, Master, you've changed me forever. I feel

totally open to you. I want to share everything I am with you, I feel

like all of my barriers have collapsed. You truly own me, Master."

"I'm honored to own you in so intimate a way, Carrie. I love you and

cherish you. Will you re-marry me this weekend?"

She laughed softly, obviously eager to lighten our moods. "Yes, Master,

gladly and enthusiastically."

"Sit back in the chair and relax, Carrie, while I wash my hands," I told

her as I went into the bathroom. When I returned, I picked up her ring

attachment we called the "manhole cover," and asked her if she would

like to wear it for awhile. She smiled and nodded. I took it with me

back into the bathroom, where I attached two dental floss loops through

holes in the disk.

I returned to Carrie, kissed her tenderly, then knelt in front of her

and attached the plate to the four rings in her labia. Then I went to

the spare bedroom and returned with her leash. Kneeling before her

again, I attached the leash to the two dental floss loops. A pull on the

leash to one side or the other would cause the plate to twist to one

side or the other, and she could interpret that as a steering command.

"I think it's been long enough that we can start using your rings,

Carrie," I told her. But your Master commands that you tell him if you

feel the slightest pain in any of your piercings, is that understood?"

"Yes, Master," she said, smiling at me. I told her to stand up and fold

her arms behind her back, and watched as she complied. She still had to

strain to grasp each upper arm with the opposite hand, but she smiled at

me as she obeyed my command.

"You will walk two paces behind me whenever you are being led like this,

Carrie," I told her. "You will adjust your pace so that the leash is

taut between us, but not pulling hard on your rings. Do you understand?"

She nodded that she understood, and I added a last requirement, that she

keep her eyes downcast and her head erect. "Look only at your beautiful,

chocolate brown nipples," I told her. She immediately straightened her

posture, raised her head, and lowered her eyes. "Excellent," I told her,

and started walking toward the kitchen.

After I had taken a few steps I felt tension in the leash as Carrie

adjusted to the relative position she was told to maintain. As we

walked, I told her she wasn't under the formal speech rule, and I wanted

her to talk to me. I asked her how it felt being led like this. She

didn't answer, so I asked the question again, with a little insistence

in my voice. "Please stop and put your Slave on her knees, Master," she

said with a tremble in her voice.

Looking around at her, I asked jokingly, "Why, do you feel like kissing

my feet again?" She broke her commanded Pose and raised her eyes to meet

mine, and I knew in a flash that was exactly what she wanted to do.

I should have stopped the exercise and helped her to talk through her

intense feelings, but I was really curious where she would go with this

worship crap. Turning to face her, I said, "For raising your eyes,

you've just added to the punishment you have coming the next time we go

to the basement." She lowered her eyes again. I walked up to her, took

hold of her nipples, and eased her down to her knees. She immediately

bent down and kissed each of my feet once, then rested her forehead on

the floor between my feet. Her back was perfectly straight, as if she

were Posed for an enema. I stood still, curious what she would do next.

She didn't do anything, she held perfectly still.

"Talk to me, Carrie," I said. "Tell me what you're thinking."

I didn't know she was crying until she spoke. "You overwhelm me master,"

she said. "I can't deal with the feelings I have, the intense feelings

of submission and domination. You do things to me that reduce me to

nothing, to an object for you to use as you please, then you expect me

to be your partner. I don't know how to reconcile those things, Master,

I don't know how to behave. I know I should simply obey you when you

command me and be your partner when you want a partner, but I can't make

the switch like you can. Help me, Master."

"Unfold your arms and stand up, Carrie," I told her. Sobbing softly, she

struggled to her feet. I detached the leash, then said, "Go to the

bedroom and lie down on the bed, on your back." She turned back toward

the bedroom and walked away slowly. I went to the kitchen and made two

sandwiches. Returning with the food and two soft drinks, I set

everything on the table, then sat on the edge of the bed looking at

Carrie. Tears were running down the sides of her face. I leaned down and

kissed her softly. She returned my kiss, then told me she was sorry. I

stripped and got into bed beside her. Holding her in my arms, I asked

her what she needed me to do to fix things. She said she didn't know,

she didn't think I was doing anything wrong, the problem was with her.

"Tell me what you need from your Master," I said.

She repeated, "I don't know," over and over again.

"Let's try to start with the extremes, and see if we can work toward a

middle ground. First, tell me if you want to stop being my Slave."

"Oh, no, Master," she answered. "Please don't ask me that, it's

unthinkable. I was born to be your Slave, I must be your Slave."

"Ok, Carrie," I said, "let's look at the other extreme. Do you want to

just be my Slave, and terminate our partnership and our marriage."

"No, Master," she said, "I couldn't give that up either. Please listen

to me Master, there's nothing wrong with our relationship. You're

wonderful to me in all of your roles. The problem is that I'm not able

to deal with my emotional reactions. I don't want to change anything,

except I want to become the perfect slave, wife, and partner you

deserve."

"Then it's easy, Carrie," I said with a smile. "All you have to do is

let go, and let me catch you. I won't let you fall, and you'll then see

that you already are everything I want and everything I could ever ask

for. Just trust me and let go." She hugged me tight and began sobbing. I

held her and kissed her gently and let her cry as long as she needed to.

After nearly an hour, Carrie had regained her composure. We were

nuzzling and kissing, and I told her I was starving. She said she was

hungry too, so I helped her out of bed. We each grabbed a sandwich and a

soda, and I told her to sit in a my lap while we ate. She told me she

was sorry she had broken down. I told her I didn't want to hear her say

she was sorry any more. If she was feeling sorry, she should stop doing

the things that made her sorry, then no apologies would be necessary.

She smiled, and said I was right.