My stop at the adult shop made me a few minutes late. I unlocked our

front

door at 7:30. she was kneeling, face to the carpet, about eight feet

directly in front of the door. Anyone walking by could have easily seen

her through the open door. In front of her spread knees, in a bucket of

ice, was a bottle of Korbel champagne and beside it a single champagne

glass.

"Up." I said, closing the door behind me and setting down my overnight

bag.

She swung her body upright and looked me in the face. Her knees were

spread wide apart on the carpet and her cunt positively beamed at me.

"Slut, you just might be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She had gone far beyond my orders to demonstrate her submission. The

"uniform" I had told her to wear was her minimal "slave around the

house" restraints: her collar, matching wrist and ankle cuffs, and two

12" chromed chains connecting wrist to wrist and ankle to ankle. She was

able to do housework in the uniform, but just barely.

She had started with the uniform, but cuffed her wrists behind her

without the separating chain. Her leash was tied around a post that

supported the stereo stand and clipped to her collar. She had inserted

her favorite gag, a short rubber penis on a black leather strap. And she

was wearing our original, larger, set of alligator clips, one on each

nipple. The screws were backed all the way out, so she felt the full

pressure of the spring-loaded teeth. I knew that with the clips applied

like that her nipples soon went from painful to unbearable to numb.

She smiled at me, if it's possible to smile around a gag that big.

I untied the leash from the post and said, "you may rise."

She bowed face down again, her hair dragging the floor, then slowly

struggled to her feet.

I removed the gag first, reaching behind her to pull the strap through

its D-rings.

"Thank you, Master." She was breathless, almost whispering, with a

slight, brittle edge of pain in her voice.

"Do you want me to take off the nipple clamps?"

"If it pleases you, Master." The exact, correct response. I was

overwhelmed. She had always been enthusiastic about our games, but she

had never thrown herself so totally into submission before. I had only

been gone five days, but in that time, it seemed that she had determined

to become the perfect slave.

I quickly squeezed open a clip, releasing her left tit.

"Ssssssss." She sucked air between her teeth, grimaced. The beginning of

tears appeared in her eyes. I squeezed the other clip and dropped both

in the floor with their chain.

"Ssssssss, oooooohhh." The sucking turned into a faint cry as her knees

buckled and she slid down my legs to the floor.

"Thank you, Master," she gasped. "I..I..I..I just came." She leaned

against my knees and with her lips gently caressed my penis through my

pants.

"Will you stop that?"

"It doesn't please you, Master?"

"It pleases me just fine, but I need to get settled in."

"Yes, Master, how may I help you."

"Get up."

Again, she bowed face down to the floor and struggled shakily to her

feet. Grabbing her shoulders, I spun her around and unclipped the wrists

cuffs from behind her back.

"Chain your wrists in front, then unpack my bag."

"Yes, Master." As she bent down for my overnight bag, still sitting next

to the front door, she positioned herself to make sure I had a clear

view of her anus and her shaved cunt from the rear. With tiny, shuffling

steps, she took my bag to the bedroom. I swatted her ass lightly with my

hand as she passed.

I picked up the champagne in its bucket and the single glass. I crossed

the room and sat on our sofa, then for the first time since arriving,

looked around the room.

The apartment was small, with a 12 X 16 living room separated from a

minimal kitchen/dining area by a counter. A short hallway led past the

bathroom to our bedroom and a second bedroom we used an office and

studio.

She had pulled the coffee table back against the front window by the

door in anticipation of our games. She also knew that she would serve as

my coffee table for the weekend, holding or retrieving anything I

desired.

Just in front of the coffee table, she had laid out every bit of our

bondage clothing, toys and devices in neat rows, sorted by type and use.

And she had added some household items that she thought might be useful.

There were gags, both purchased and homemade. There were straps and

harnesses, a black satin corset, a red and black half-bra, several neat

coils of rope in various lengths and a brand new package of clothes

pins. There were a variety of dildos, vibrators and plugs. There was a

set of spreader bars, homemade from dowels and screw eyes; a couple

whips, a short leather cat and one of knotted nylon cord, and a pink

plastic fly swatter. She soon shuffled back into the hallway, her hands

now connected in front of her by a 12" chain.

"Get a saucer from the kitchen, then come here."

"As you wish, Master."

Her movement across the room was slow, almost painfully so, but the

sight of her, nude and hobbled, as she attempted to scurry to do my

bidding was worth any delay. "On your way back, turn on the radio."

"Yes, Master."

When she returned, I had her kneel facing me about 2 feet in front of

the sofa. My feet were on the floor between her spread knees.

I opened the bottle of champagne with a loud "pop" and poured myself a

glass.

"Hand me the saucer." She bowed face down to the floor and held the

saucer over her head in both hands. I took the saucer from her and

filled it with champagne. Handing it back to her I said, "Put it there,"

and pointed at the floor between my feet.

"No hands," I ordered.

She leaned down and lapped champagne from the saucer like a cat.

"How long did you wait there for me?"

"Since ten till seven, Master." She looked up at me from the saucer.

"So long, slut? You knew I wouldn't be here till at least seven

fifteen." She had knelt there, alone in silence, with those clamps on

her nipples for almost forty-five minutes.

"I didn't want to take the chance that you would get here and I wouldn't

be ready."

"How has your week been?"

"Wonderful, Master . . . and lonely. My classes aren't too awful, but I

really miss you. Being a collared slave, you know, naked all the time,

and my shaved . . . my shaved . . . " "Cunt, slut."

"My shaved . . . cunt, Master. It's, well, refreshing. You know I'd just

as soon be nude most of the time anyway, but this is different."

"Why different?"

"Because it's for you, Master."

She bent down again to lap more champagne.

"My shave did cause a bit of a stir at the athletic center."

"It did?" I feigned shock.

"In the shower and locker room. Some of the girls were . . . surprised.

I was so embarrassed. I told them I have this tiny bikini, and sort of

got carried away, but I don't think any of them believed me."

"Tell them the truth. It's your badge of submission."

"Master, I couldn't do that."

"None of them would believe it anyway." She had licked the saucer dry by

then, and I had emptied my glass.

"Get us our salads, slut."

"Master, I ate earlier. I wanted to be able to devote my full attention

to serving you. And, I was hungry. I'll bring yours right now." "I guess

that's an adequate explanation. Go!" I slapped the inside of her thigh,

hard.

She bowed and rose, much easier now that her hands were in front. She

shuffled back to the kitchen with tiny steps. I heard the refrigerator

open and close. She quickly returned, her ankle chain jangling on the

floor as she walked.

I had her kneel as before and hold the salad bowl in front of her. Her

hands served as my table while I watched her and ate in silence. She

served me my sandwich (roast beef and swiss on rye) the same way.