Petra Jane Story Site

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I was just an ordinary heterosexual guy who enjoyed exploring his feminine side and cross dressed regularly, a thoroughly enjoyable and inoffensive pastime carried out by millions of men across the world. Everything was going fine until one day I met Judy. She changed my life forever. This, then, is my story, the story of …

The Enslavement of Allison 

Story, pictures & Characters © Allison Smith


I do not know when I first had the urge to cross dress - it was probably in my early teens – but over the years and in and out of one marriage, In my feminine persona I called myself “Allison” and slowly improved my wardrobe and developed my feminine skills. How to apply my make up, put on false eye lashes and it never failed to thrill as I slipped each stockinged foot into those tight shoes and stood and balanced on my 5in stiletto heels. At first I just used to dress up around the house and then, through contact magazines I branched out and visited similar enthusiasts and we would dress up together and help each other with our hair and make up.

It was in this way that I met “Judy”. She lived locally to me and we would meet up at least three times a week and take photographs of us in our gowns and outfits. I must say that I was really envious of her wardrobe, it positively brimmed with wonderful clothes and I really enjoyed the pleasure of being allowed to them on. After a while Judy suggested that we broaden our horizons. She had been “out” before but I had never had the nerve and she suggested that we might go out one night. I must admit that I felt total trepidation at the thought. It was a huge step to go from doing it in private to exposure for all to see. Judy suggested that the best way would be to go to the sort of venue where “anything goes”. We talked long and hard about it and it was decided that we would go to a gay club – not that we were anything other than straight but that our feminine personae would not be out of place there and would be fully accepted. We arranged to go on the Friday, just four days away.

My mind was in turmoil – four days! I was at the same time faced with excitement and dread. What would I wear? How would I look? How would I act? How would I be received? I must have been on the ‘phone to Judy every hour and although she kept re-assuring me I still harboured worries and doubts. All of a sudden, it was Friday and 5.00pm, and there was Judy at the front door complete with her suitcase of clothes all ready to get changed! I knew it was too late to turn back and now was the time to really put into practice all the girly skills that I had learned. As it turned out, apart from the ending, I would not have missed the rest of the night for anything. The thrill that we had as we donned each item of clothing, shaped our wigs and applied our make up. Judy had decided to go in a long straight black wig, with a tight red sequinned short dress, black stockings and red satin stilettos, I went in a medium length curly blond wig, a black sequinned short tight dress, black stockings and black patent stilettos. With our best boobs on, little shoulder bags, glittering necklaces and bracelets we looked fantastic and, in the end, after all my apprehensions, I just could not wait to go out!
  The taxi arrived at 10.00pm and we tripped daintily across the pavement and into the car. Judy gave the address and we just sat in the back, hardly speaking. After all the excitement of dressing up my nerves took over but we must have looked OK – the taxi driver never took his eyes off us in his rear view mirror!
  The journey only lasted a few minutes and by the time that we had arrived at the entrance to the club my stomach was in knots. There was just one last fleeting doubt before my heels were clicking sexily across the forecourt and into the lobby. We reached into our little shoulder bags, handed in the entrance fee and purposefully strode through the doors and into the club. I am happy to say that it was packed and, glancing around, we were certainly not out of place, it teemed with drag queens.
   I could feel the eyes looking at us as we fought our way across to the bar where Judy bought the first round, she had a Bacardi and I had a Diet-Coke – I was looking after my figure! We had barely taken a sip before we were being “chatted up”. In our 5in heels we were well over six feet tall but it did not stop the admiring comments, it was a super feeling being ogled at and we were enjoying every luscious minute of our femininity. I lost count of the number of drinks bought for us but very soon we were in need of the “loo”, a tricky moment I thought, but Judy was in no doubt and we tripped into the Ladies with all the style and panache at our disposal!
   The night went so quickly, everyone was really nice and I wondered why I was so anxious about it and, more especially, rued all those wasted years when I could have experienced this thrill so many more times. I think that we left the club at about 3.00am, we declined numerous offers of lifts and the last thing I remember was waiting for a taxi and getting into one with Judy.


   My next recollection was when I awoke in a beautifully furnished office, seated in a directors chair and facing a large antique Regency desk. I remember that it took some time to fully gather my thoughts before I realised that my ankles and wrists were tied to the chair and I was gagged. Presently I heard a voice say “Hello Allison, I’m Sandra, welcome to my team” Despite my bonds I tried to turn around to see who it was. A tall young woman, elegantly dressed in a black velvet suit and high heels glided past me and perched provocatively on the edge of the desk.
“I hope that Judy took good care of you last night and you had a lovely time on your last night of freedom” she paused, “no doubt you have a few questions - they usually do”
I just sat there stunned by her words. She continued “Judy is my representative in your area and is always on the lookout for ideal candidates for me. She has sent good reports of your suitability, you are fairly slim, your make up skills are excellent and you are able to display a high degree of femininity, just what our clients require. I have seen pictures of you dressed up and I like your style. I know that you are wondering what is going on, so I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. I run an organization called “Women for Women”, we supply transvestite sex-slaves to sophisticated ladies, you know high-powered business women who do not have a lot of time to socialize, so we provide their entertainment”
     I could not believe what I was hearing and knew that I had to escape somehow but Sandra was ahead of me. “We have already measured you for your slave and wall chains as well as your uniform and I think that it is time that you were prepared”. With that she pressed a buzzer on her desk and I heard a door open behind me. Two women dressed in black track suits came and stood at each side of my chair and before I knew what had happened they had pulled me and the chair on its casters through the door and into another room – a place that was totally different to the plush surroundings that I had just been in. The floor was concrete and the walls were whitewashed brick, along one side was a workbench and hanging from one of the walls were yards and yards of chain. The two women were joined by another two and the four of them manoeuvred the chair to the bench, untied and ungagged me, and then set about removing the gorgeous clothing that I still wore from the night before. “You won’t be needing this any more” one of them said as I watched my black sequinned dress disappear into a rubbish bin. I never did find out what the women’s names were or what Sandra called them. I just knew that they carried out her orders to the letter and enjoyed every minute of it!
   They padlocked chains to my wrists and, using a pulley block, raised me out of the chair and suspended me from the ceiling with my feet just off the floor. I was utterly helpless in this position and they had no problem in totally undressing me. I was pleasantly surprised to find that throughout the ordeal my false breasts were still firmly glued in place as they fitted a shiny black PVC corset around my body,
My legs were inserted into a pair of gorgeous black satin and lace panties, black fishnet stockings were attached to the suspenders and then finally my legs were clad in shiny black patent leather thigh boots. I must admit that I have used corsets many times in the past to give me a lovely thin waist but I nearly passed out when they put this one on me.  I had never had one as tight as this.
   Then came the devastating moment when I knew that I was totally within Sandra’s power. A 2 inch wide steel collar was placed tightly around my neck and sealed in place with two rivets. “That won’t come off in a hurry” they laughed. “we make sure that once a slave collar is on it NEVER comes off again.” Two large staples had been welded to the collar, one at the front and the other at the back and a chain was padlocked to the one at the front and fed through a ring on the wall. I was then lowered onto my 5in heels and before the chains were released from my wrists the chain to my neck collar was pulled so that I ended up with my face hard against the wall. They quickly completed my incarceration, long shiny black PVC gloves were slid up my arms, 2 inch shackles were locked on my wrists and another set of 2 inch steel shackles locked around my ankles.
 . I was released from the chain holding my collar to the wall and was sat back down in the Directors Chair. I could now see that my wrists and ankles were each joined by about 1 foot lengths of chain and these chains were themselves connected to each other by another one of three foot or so. A large heavy disc was attached to the staple at the front of my steel collar and I could see that it had a number on and other writing that I found difficult to focus on and read.
  I was wheeled back into the warmth of the office and steered to a dressing table that I had not noticed when I was previously in the room. One of them padlocked me to the table by my ankles and told me to tidy myself up and change my wig! There was a vast array of beautiful make up, a platinum blonde wig and an electric shaver. To say that I needed a shave was an understatement it must have been at least 18 hours since my face had seen a blade and I took great enjoyment in returning my face to the beautiful smoothness that it had been the night before. Despite my predicament I found the lure of the make-up just too much and once I got used to the inconvenience of the chains and shackles around my wrists, spent some very pleasant time in repairing my face and making it presentable.
  I had just finished when one of the women came in again, unchained me from the table and made me hobble into the centre of the room.
“Stand there and wait” she said. I must have stood for half an hour at least in a bizarre state of anticipation and dread. I knew that deep down this very situation was the pinnacle of all my sexual fantasies. Cross dressing was super, it both excited me and relaxed me. But this was something extra, something different and my penis was really excited too as it tried to burst through my satin panties! Although I was no stranger to standing and walking in high heels, I had never stood in one position for this length of time and, under the weight of my chains, my legs were really starting to ache and I wondered just how long I was going to have to maintain this position. Suddenly, my question was answered as the door opened and Sandra entered. She was no longer in the elegant suit that she wore when I had first met her but was now similarly dressed to me. She had shiny black thigh boots, a corset and long gloves but also wore a lovely shiny black PVC jacket and mini skirt.
    She went over to the desk, opened a drawer and took out a glistening whip. “Stand to attention” Sandra barked. I did, but not apparently quick enough, for I heard a “whish” and suddenly felt searing pain across my buttocks. “When I give you an order, slut, I expect it to be carried out”. “Yes Sandra, I replied” Another “whish” quickly followed with the same painful result. She stood in front of me and, with the handle of the whip, raised my chin. “You and this” she said, indicating to the whip,” are going to be well acquainted from now on, in fact you are going to be firm inseparable friends. Welcome to your new life as a sex-slave. How dare you be so familiar with me as to use my first name!” She whipped my buttocks again “You are just a worthless slut and will address me as My Lady – understand?” I heard the swish yet again and felt the pain as she emphasised our respective positions. “Yes My Lady” I replied.
“In order to carry out your new functions you are going to require intense training and discipline and you will have to work hard to earn your daily food ration”, she said, glancing down at my penis protruding through my panties which, in all the mayhem had been thoroughly excited. She reached to grasp it in her warm PVC gloves but my natural reaction was to flinch my hand towards her to stop – this proved to be a bad move! Her face contorted with anger and she whipped me in an uncontrollable frenzy until I had collapsed on the floor under the searing pain of the barrage. “How dare you” she raged, “you are nothing, you are just a slut with a number, you do not stop me from doing what I want with you. You do not do anything without asking for permission first. This penis is not yours any longer, it belongs to my clients and I. If I ever see you touch it I shall have you whipped from dawn to dusk. Now get up and stand to attention”
     I staggered to my feet, my back and buttocks were stiff already, and it was a struggle trying to balance on my high heels under the restraint of the shackles and chains.
“I trust that you now have a greater understanding of your new station in life” she said. I was just about to nod in agreement when I realised that she would want me to say “Yes My Lady”. Too late, another whip lashed across my back. “We are a bit of a slow learner, aren’t we?” she asked. “Apparently so, My Lady” I replied. “I am glad to see that we at last agree on something” she added as she walked around the desk and settled into her huge upholstered chair, The whip had a loop on the handle and she used this to dangle it from her right wrist in an intimidatory fashion. She snuggled her bottom into the cushioning and gently opened her legs. “Before I send you down to the dungeons,” she cooed “I think that a little more education is in order. Come over here and kneel in front of me”. I hobbled across to where she had indicated and knelt before her. “Now lick me” she said hitching up her mini skirt and revealing her panty-less clitoris”. “Yes, My Lady” I replied and set to work with my glossed lips and tongue. After all the pain that I had just experienced this was a very pleasant and much more enjoyable interlude and hearing My Lady groan in pleasure at least meant that I was not in danger of being whipped, for a while at least.
   I do not know how long I carried this out but my knees thoroughly ached and my mouth and tongue were feeling sore when, in her moment of pleasure, she grasped the whip and started to lash me crying “Yes, Yes”, before gently collapsing in her seat. “That was reasonably satisfactory, slave”, she said, “you have my permission to go to the dressing table and adjust your make-up”. As I gingerly rose to my feet and hobbled across to the table. I noticed that, as my body had warmed up so all of the shackles were much tighter and had become more uncomfortable. As this was the first time that I had tried to sit down since I had endured the whipping from My Lady I took it very carefully but was pleasantly surprised to find that it was not too painful, not that there was not a bit of me that did not hurt.
  As I adjusted my make-up it dawned on me that I had not had anything to drink or eat for hours, neither had I been to the loo since being in the club. I decided to ask. “May I speak, my Lady?”. “What is it?” she replied. “Well I need to go to the toilet and I have not had anything to eat or drink”. She pondered for a while and said “I will ask the women to give you a drink and take you to the toilet on the way down to the dungeons.” “Thank you very, very much my Lady” I replied thankfully.
   I took about fifteen minutes to re-shave, do my make up and preen my wig before my Lady pressed the buzzer for the women to come into the room. “Please take the slave down now and give it some water and allow it to use the toilet”, and turning towards me added “No doubt this has been a very difficult day for you to comprehend, but this is your life now. You shall not be known as Allison, but as 3109, the number on your slave collar. You have a lot of work to do before we can hire you out and I expect you to learn very quickly. You shall attend to me tomorrow”.
  With that the women attached a chain around my penis and scrotum and led me through another doorway to a toilet. Where now I thought? Each of the four women had their own whip and none were shy to use it if they felt I was not moving fast enough. I stumbled and hobbled behind them in my chains and high heels as they tugged on my lead chain and led me to the top of a long set of wooden stairs. I could see now from the style of the architecture that we were in a Victorian building and were undoubtedly heading for the cellar. With all these restraints, negotiating the stairs was somewhat tricky so I was pretty relieved to arrive at the bottom in one piece and without falling.


  The building must have been used as a warehouse and I could see that the huge cellar was aptly called a dungeon and appeared to have been split into numerous cells connected by a rabbit warren of passages. I was led along one of them, I lost count of the grilled steel doors, each with a number, that we passed before we emerged into a large dingy chamber, about 100ft square. I gulped. Around the walls and on the floor were manacles of all kinds, countless whips and knives hung from the walls, cages hung from the high ceiling and in the centre of the room was a mediaeval style rack. “Welcome to the Torture Chamber, our play room” said the women, “this is where we enjoy ourselves when slaves prove to be disobedient. We always like to show it to new recruits to give them something to look forward to.” They pulled me through another door and down another long passage before stopping outside of Cell 3109. “Here we are, slut, enjoy your new home”
  One of the women sorted through the bunch of keys hanging from her waist, selected one and opened the door. The room, in contrast to the brightly lit passage was gloomily illuminated with just one light fitting and, as everywhere else in the building, it was windowless, the walls that I could see were whitewashed brick and the floor was concrete. They beckoned me to enter and kneel down on all fours. One of the women said “As a daily routine each slave is given twenty lashes to remind it of its status. We shall administer them now and you shall count. If you get it wrong we’ll start again until you get it right!” With that my daily discipline was despatched and I just had enough awareness to count correctly. Unfortunately this day had one more twist. I thought that I was going to be allowed to collapse in a heap on the floor and go to sleep but they ordered me to stand and led me over to one of the walls that I had not glimpsed through the doorway. Hanging from it were a set of chains and shackles, they stood me against it with my back to the wall and padlocked a short chain to my slave collar. Then, in a sequence with which I have become very well acquainted, my wrists and ankles were unlocked from my slave chains and transferred to those hanging from the wall. I had most certainly been accurately measured because they stretched my limbs just enough to leave my body uncomfortably spread-eagled. “Sleep well” they laughed as they left my cell and slammed the door shut. I heard the keys turn in the lock and listened to the clicks of their heels diminish as they walked back along the passage.
    As my eyes slowly focussed in the gloom it appeared that I was not alone! I could see the glint of light on patent leather and there, chained to the wall opposite, was another slave! I shouted out but did not receive a reply and then I eventually saw why. The wall opposite was covered in a mirror and I was just looking at myself. Not only was I left hanging in total discomfort, I had to watch it too.
  I was so exhausted that, despite the intense pain I was in, I quickly fell asleep. I had not seen daylight since that Friday afternoon and had no idea what time it was or what day it was. The only clue that I had had was the growth of stubble on my chin! I woke several times only to fall asleep again until I was awoken by the sound of a cell door slamming somewhere along the passageway. I heard the rattling of chains, voices, the door slamming again, the sound of heels retreating along the passageway and then silence.
  I was now fully awake and although the pain from my whippings flooded through my stretched body I was more aware of my aching feet! Standing on concrete in 5in high heels for hours on end is no joke but I must admit that it was a very erotic sensation.
As if that was not enough, the realization that the platinum blonde girl I could see, sexily dressed in shiny black leather high heel thigh boots, scanty PVC clothing and hanging in chains from the wall was me and transported me to tranny heaven!
    I mused about the predicament that I was in and, at long last after all that had happened I now finally had time to think things through. Just a few hours ago I was an ordinary bloke with an ordinary job living a very ordinary life with an unusual hobby. What would happen to the house and my property? What would happen when I am reported missing? How did I end up here and what on earth is my future? My thoughts turned to Judy and her role in these cataclysmic events. All these questions raced through my brain over and over again.

  I felt that I had been awake for some time when I heard the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking along the passageway. They stopped outside the door to the cell, a key rattled in the lock and the door swung open. Silhouetted in the doorway was a tall slim woman, with a trim waist, long brown hair and dressed in a pink suit with white patent leather stiletto shoes. In the poor light I could not see who it was. She sloped elegantly towards me, reached forward, pulled my panties down and gently slipped her cool white patent leather clutch bag under my penis, sending a gorgeous shudder through my body! Her delightful perfume wafted into my nostrils and it was one that I certainly remembered well from the past. “Judy” I gasped. “Hello Allison, or should I say 3109?” With that comment I strained at my chains to get at her. “Steady, we don’t want you damaged, you haven’t earned us anything yet” she cautioned. “I thought you would be pleased to see an old friend”. I sagged and writhed in my chains as she grasped my penis in her white leather gloved hand and squeezed it with ever increasing pressure taking me to the edge of ecstasy. She stood right in front of me, pressed her soft “boobs” into mine until our false eyelashes touched, and sensuously exhaled her hot breath into my mouth. Our lips met and, driven by the massaging of my penis, I began to kiss her long and passionately. “And I thought you were straight” she mocked, as she released my penis before it exploded and stepped back. I just hung there in my chains and, as if everything that had happened to me was not bad enough, I now felt thoroughly ashamed of myself. In all the years of cross dressing I had never ever wanted to kiss a man and now Judy had easily enticed me into it.
  Judy thoughtfully and slowly paced around the cell. I could see that she was bursting to tell me something that I did not want to hear. She took her clutch bag from under her left arm, came and stood in front of me and opened it. Her gloved hand reached inside, she withdrew a set of keys and dangled them in front of my face - they were mine! In the gloom I could see a smile spread across her face. “You left these in the taxi, the other night, just after the drugs I put in your last drink took effect. It was a pity not to use them and I, well, sort of helped myself to the odd things knocking around the house here and there. Well I knew that you weren’t going to need them any more and it would have been such a waste” She reached into her bag once again, pulled out a wad of £50 notes and teasingly brushed them across my face. “There is an antiques dealer that I am very friendly with and he was very accommodating, took the lot, even the rubbish and gave me four grand. Of course I kept all your documents and paperwork and your dresses and gowns go very well in my wardrobe. I sent a letter of resignation to your boss, so I don’t suppose that they’ll come looking for you and, oh! I have a buyer for your car. So I went on a little spending spree at Pierre Cardin and along with a few other items I bought this delightful pink outfit. Don’t you like it? I saw a lovely gown in there too, a full length sheath dress in silver sequins and beads, it’ s an absolute snip at £15,000, it just took my breath away. I want it and I shall, of course expect you to sign the house over to me. As you know I have an expensive taste in clothes and Sandra allows me these perks to keep me happy. She knows that I am good at my job, otherwise I shall have a quiet word with the women who would welcome you into their play room”.
   In the context of what had happened to me in the last couple of days I was almost barely surprised at this turn of events. During our “dressing up” nights I had talked about my life and circumstances and Judy knew that I had no family to speak of or that I did not enjoy my job. “Well slut. What do you say to that” she smiled in triumph. I did not reply at first but Judy was in no mood to wait and stamped one of her long stiletto heels into my right foot. “OK,” I screamed, “ I’ll sign anything!”
 Judy was in total control and she was relishing every minute of it. She pressed against me once more and gently grasped and squeezed my penis. I felt her hot breath and the sensuous aroma of her perfume and she knew I would not be able to resist and we kissed long and passionately once more. Again she took me to the point of ecstasy and then stepped away. I slumped in my chains, she knew I was utterly beaten and wallowed in her victory.
   “I’ll have the solicitor draw up the papers for the transfer of the house”, she said, “in fact I may as well have everything transferred whilst I’m at it” She reached into her clutch bag once more, withdrew a lipstick and powder compact and proceeded to “repair” her make-up. “My God”, she said “the light in here is bad, how is a girl supposed to do her face?” She paused from speaking as she applied her lipstick and then turned towards me “Well my little slut, or should I say 3109? I will not see you again. Sandra will organize the paper work. A woman’s work is never done” she sighed” and I have lots more shops to hit and new slaves to net for her.” With that she turned on her heels to leave, but I could see that the power that she had over me was just too delightful to resist. She paused a second, turned back again and slowly walked back to me, her heels sensuously clicking on the concrete floor. I lost count of the number of times that we kissed and I was taken to the edge of ecstasy as she teased and tormented me. Eventually she took the time to glance at her gold watch. I immediately recognized it, it was my ex-wife’s and was one of the few mementos that I had had of our marriage! “Oh do you like my new watch?” she enquired mockingly, “Anyway I see that it really is time for me to go now. I would have loved to have had you to myself in the play room for an hour or so, but it was not to be. May I say what a pleasure it has been, and will be, spending your money and I hope that you hate every excruciating moment of your new humiliating and painful career as a slut and a slave”. She walked to the door, turned back, pouted her lips and studiously blew me a kiss. “Good bye Darling!” she whispered, walked out of the cell and slammed the door shut. I heard the key in the lock and listened to the sound of her clicking heels diminish as she walked back along the corridor.
  Suddenly it was totally silent again and I was back in my painful solitude. Only now was it impinging on my brain that my life was now totally transformed and I was not going back! Cross dressing was now not just a pleasant interlude in my life, it was central to my existence and every hour of every day would be spent as a woman! Judy had mentally and physically drained me and I again slumped in my chains and fell asleep.


I must have been in a very deep sleep when I was rudely awoken by a hard slap across my face “Wakey wakey dreamboat” whispered one of the women, “time to get up”. I was then subjected to a routine with which I became very familiar. I was barely awake as I felt them removing my limbs from the shackles and fitting them into my slave chains. The slave collar was unpadlocked from the wall and I was instructed to get down on all fours. I knew what was coming and counted out the twenty lashes of the whip they joyously administered as my wake up call. A lead chain was again attached to my penis and scrotum and I was led through the passageways to another room. “Right slut, this is where you carry out your daily ablutions!” My slave collar was then attached to the wall by a long chain and padlock and the women removed my set of slave chains. I was ordered to strip and wash in the plunge bath that was in the corner of the room. Removing my boots at last was like heaven and although the water was tepid it eased all my aching limbs and the sores from the whiplashes. A bar of soap was thrown in to me and I carefully removed my wig before thoroughly washing myself. I had been enjoying the experience for a few minutes when I was given a razor and shaving soap and ordered to shave myself from top to bottom. They allowed me some ten minutes when I was ordered to climb out and towel down. I was thoroughly inspected for any remaining dirt or hairs before they unlocked the chain to my slave collar from the wall and led me into an adjoining room.
   There was a dressing table with an array of make-up, perfumes and a new platinum blonde wig and on the floor were my slave chains and my clothing. Once again I was attached to the wall by a chain to my slave collar and a rag and cans of metal and patent leather polishes were thrust into my hands. “We will be back in thirty minutes and we want to see your boots, chains and shackles gleaming!” they said “or else!”. There were no prizes for guessing what the “or else” meant so I got down on my knees and feverishly polished away. I had remembered to polish the slave collar around my neck and had thrown in a buff up of my PVC corset for good measure before the women returned. I must have done a reasonable job because they only found cause to whip me a couple of times before I was put back in my clothing and re-shackled in my, now shining, slave chains.
   I was led to the dressing table and if I thought the corset was tight last time, they had excelled themselves now and nearly cut me in two. As well as the difficulty in hobbling on high heels, I was now finding it almost impossible to breathe. “You’ve half an hour” they said, “make yourself very pretty, my Lady will be requiring your services”. As I set about making myself up and styling my wig I mused as to what was in store for me today. I thought that it could not be any worse than had happened so far, but then realised that it probably would be – and it was.
   The women duly arrived and led me hobbling through the passageways, up the stairs along a corridor and into a room. This was similar to the office that I had been in before but instead of a desk there was a smart Regency style dining table and a chair. I was told to stand to attention to await the arrival of My Lady. Again punctuality was not her forté but I was getting used to standing on my 5in heels under the weight of the chains and that aspect at least was not quite so bad although the pain from the lashes that I had endured showed no signs of diminishing. She duly breezed in, this time dressed in a pretty white suit with a short skirt, handbag and stiletto heeled white sandals, and sat herself at the table. Without looking at me she rang a small bell that was on the table and a girl, dressed as a French maid gave a menu to Sandra and laid the table for one. She glanced at the menu and said “I think I’ll just have the roast chicken and rice. Let’s keep it simple I like to keep a trim waist.” The maid departed and Sandra looked up at me. “Well slut. I hope that you have come to learn today. Any sign of disobedience again will make me very angry” she glowered at me. Presently the maid returned with a glass and a bottle of red wine. She uncorked the bottle and after offering it to Sandra to taste, poured her a glass. The maid offered a little curtsey and left the room. Sandra reached into her large white patent leather handbag and pulled out a magazine which she duly opened on the table and started to read as she sipped her wine whilst awaiting her lunch. (I assume that it was lunch as I had no idea of the time of day that it was) “Keep standing to attention slut!” she barked as she could see me starting to wilt under the weight of my chains.
   It was a good fifteen minutes or so before her meal emerged. The delicious aroma of it hit me hard – and she knew it. I realised that I had not eaten for days now and just smelling it intensified the hunger and creased my stomach. “Look up and watch me eat” she ordered and I had to watch her salivate each mouthful. “Would you like some food too?” she asked. I wanted to resist and say no but I had no choice. “Yes please My Lady” I replied. Sandra rang the bell and the maid entered the room. “Bring some food for the slave please” she asked, the maid gave another little curtsey and left the room. She returned within a minute with a large dog bowl and placed it on the floor at Sandra’s feet beneath the table. “Here you are slut, come and get it. You have my permission to get on your hands and knees and eat it out of the bowl like the bitch that you are. And don’t get it all over the floor!” I dropped on all fours and made my way under the table “Don’t you dare damage the furniture with your chains” she barked. When I arrived at the bowl I could see that it was just dog food but in my situation I was short of options and quickly devoured the lot.
   Sandra peered under the table “Did you enjoy that?” she asked. “Yes thank you My Lady” I replied. “Go and resume your position and stand to attention again” she ordered. I dragged myself from under the table and tottered to my feet. She barely gave ma another look as she carried on eating before finishing her meal with an apple. In the meantime I was beginning to feel pretty queasy. Eating the dog food, hungry as I was, was proving to be poor judgement and I suddenly vomited my whole meal all over the carpet.
   Sandra went ballistic. She rang the bell and ordered the maid to fetch the women. She went over to a Regency sideboard, opened a drawer and took out a whip. “Get on your hands and knees and lick it up” she screamed. I dropped to my knees as she relentlessly whipped my buttocks and tried to lick it up without regurgitating it but with no success. The women quickly arrived. “Take this slut away” Sandra barked, “ I no longer have any use for this slave, it is utterly disobedient and totally unsuitable. Remove the number disc from the slave collar and you may do what you want with the slut”. The women eagerly attached the chain around my penis and scrotum and gleefully led me to the workroom where the disc was removed. “We think that it is about time that you were acquainted with our play room” one of them said and I was led hobbling down to the dungeons


I was taken into the Torture Chamber and I trembled with fear. The array of vicious tools they had at their disposal was frightening and, what was worse, they were very willing to use them. In addition to what they had gloatingly showed me the day before, a brazier glowed in the corner and I could see the handles of branding irons resting around its edge. I feared for my life. One of the women led me towards the brazier and made me stand to attention in front of it. She rejoined the others who had grouped at the other end of the chamber and I could hear them laugh and snigger as they planned their entertainment.
    It did not take long for them to come to some agreement and I watched them go over to the rack, lift it off the floor and move it out of the way to the side. I could see that this exposed two shackles, chained to the floor about four feet apart and, on glancing up, I could see another two shackles, similarly apart but hanging on chains from pulley blocks attached to the ceiling and immediately above them. They walked over to me, each brandishing the obligatory whip, and led me to the shackles. Within seconds they had removed my slave chains and locked my ankles and wrists in the shackles. I could hear the sound of the pulley blocks being operated and felt my body stretch as I was lifted off the ground by my wrists with my legs being stretched apart by the shackles on the floor.
  My feet were only a couple of inches off the floor but one of the women put a small box in front of me in order that she could stand on it and gloat at me face to face. As I hung there I could feel the blood draining out of my hands under the pressure of the shackles around my wrists and I knew that they were just biding their time, increasing the tension and my fear in trying to anticipate what they were going to do. It seemed like hours, but was probably just a couple of minutes, when I heard a door open and close and the sound of someone in high heels entering the room. I heard a muted conversation and a few giggles - and then I smelt it! Judy’s perfume! My nemesis was here again!
   I heard her heels slowly clicking across the concrete floor, she drew near me and stood in front of me so that I could see her “I know I said that I would not see you again” she whispered apologetically, “but Sandra rang me and it really was TOO good to miss, so here I am ready to join in the fun”. This time she was in a long black curly wig and dressed in a tight shiny black PVC jacket and trousers with a pair of black patent leather thigh boots similar to the ones that I had to wear. Around her slim waist was a leather belt and dangling from it was a whip, but not like the ones to which I was subjected to daily. I could see that this had just one razor sharp cord. “Do you like this outfit too” she asked, “guess who paid for it? And I hope you appreciate all the trouble I went to get this whip just for you. It was really expensive but I know that you will appreciate it”. Whilst Judy was speaking to me I could feel my stomach being released as the corset was taken off, the suspenders were removed from the stockings and my panties lowered. Judy glanced down at my limp penis. Even the sensuous clothes that she wore could not impose themselves against the terror that consumed my body. “Oh dear” she cooed, as she stepped on the box “is my little plaything broken. Let’s see if this helps?” Even in these utterly dire straits in which I found myself I was determined to defy her this time and resist her advances, but under the onslaught of her exotic perfume, her luscious glossy lips, her hot breath and the gentle squeezing of my penis, I capitulated totally in seconds and kissed her passionately once more. She could feel my penis growing in her cool PVC gloved hand and I sensed her smile as we kissed. We both knew that she had easily won again and she duly withdrew her hand just as I was on the point of ecstasy and stepped off the box.
“There that’s made it better. Nurse Judy to the rescue again” she joked”. Now I know that you can’t wait for me to try out your new whip on you so let’s start”. She walked behind me and almost immediately I heard the swish of the whip and recoiled and screamed as it cut across my buttocks. “Now, now” she rebuked “well behaved slaves do not scream out. Let’s try it again”. Again I heard the swish and felt it cut deep into my skin and it took all the powers of my determination and concentration not to utter a sound.
“That’s better” said Judy, “now you can have all the fun and enjoy the experience of your new whip”. I was nearly passing out with the pain, both from the whip lashes and from being suspended by my wrists which also made it difficult to breathe. Judy walked around to the front and stood on the box once more and played her lips and hot breath on my face. “I’ve let the women borrow your new toy, they’re dying to try it out for themselves!” she whispered as she reached down and squeezed my penis once more. Our lips met as I heard the swish of the whip again and felt it across my back. I gulped, holding back my scream of pain, but Judy carried on kissing and squeezing as each whiplash bit into my skin.
If ever a situation encapsulated agony and ecstasy at the same time then this was it. Judy was giving me sensual pleasure whilst I was enduring the pain of the whip and my chains. Judy, as usual, stopped just short of ecstasy as the women took it in turns to try out their skills and I finally passed out.
I was awoken by the sensation of Judy squeezing my penis again. “This is very selfish of you” she rebuked playfully, “you’ve had all the pleasure and gone to sleep but now it’s about time that we had some fun as well”. The thought of them “having fun” after what I had just gone through did not bear thinking about. I heard the sound of the pulley blocks being used and felt myself being lowered. What relief when my feet hit the floor! I could feel the blood starting to rush into my hands and fingers at last! I was disconnected from my shackles and led to the side of the room where I collapsed in a heap. I was barely conscious but could hear them lifting and dragging the rack back into the centre of the room.
  “Get up slut” barked one of the women, and I staggered up and tottered on my heels. “Over there” she said pointing to the rack and pushing me along. The five of them grabbed me and dragged me face down across the bench before spread-eagling me and shackling my ankles to one end of the rack and my wrists to the other. One of the women turned the capstan at the end of the drum and I could feel my body start to stretch as the device reached the first ratchet, holding me in painful tension.
Judy leant over and nibbled my left ear, “Now, now lover girl, before we start Sandra has asked us to do a little job” she said. I heard the flames of the brazier roar as it was poked and all of a sudden I felt searing pain and smelt burning flesh as one of the red hot branding irons was pressed between my shoulders and then into my left buttock. “That’s the “3” done” said one of the women. ”I hope you are going to be neat and tidy and not make a complete mess like last time?” joked another. I endured the pain as one, nought, nine and WW were burned into my skin. The bucket of cold water that was poured over my burn marks to harden the skin also brought me around a bit, but my mind was continually moving between total awareness and the solace of sleep.
 Judy bent over me again and whispered, “Sorry about the admin, but Sandra always likes to make sure that her slaves have the mark of her ownership and their number, even the ones that she has discarded. Anyway we can get on with it now”. The ratchet was released and my ankles and wrists unshackled, but the respite was short, they only wanted to turn me over and I was quickly re-connected to the rack, this time with my legs more or less together.
  Judy gleefully took charge of the capstan and started to rotate the drum. I heard the first ratchet, and then the second and then the third. My body was on the point of being pulled apart! Judy stopped and leaned over me again. I did not know what she was going to do and she had taken me past the point where I actually cared. Once again she used all her feminine allure. Her perfume, luscious glossy lips and hot breath trapped me into a long kiss and I felt a hand caress my rising penis. This time, however, something was different. Being stretched as I was I could not look anywhere but immediately up at Judy’s face and the ceiling. I felt two legs straddling my hips and suddenly my penis was being steered into a warm, wet vagina. This was the women’s fun! They had tortured me to the edge of consciousness and now they were going to rape me! Judy was on hand to seduce me as one by one they took their pleasure. I must admit that I was utterly surprised that I was able to keep going as long as I did but seduction, fear and pain can be a heady mix!
  After the last of the four women had had their fill, Judy said “Of course you will not be able to service me in that way will you? So I will have to take my pleasure in some other”. She clambered onto the bench, straddled my chest and pulled her tight shiny black PVC trousers down to reveal black satin knickers and a panty girdle. She slid the knickers and girdle down to release a long throbbing penis. Once more she leant forward to kiss me passionately but this time broke away and thrust her penis into my mouth. “Screw me slut” she shouted. I spluttered and choked as she plunged it up and down in my throat until she gave a scream of ecstasy and despatched her sperm into my stomach. There was a quiet glow of satisfaction as Judy withdrew it, wiped it with a flannel, climbed off the bench and redressed herself.
   She gave me a kiss on my lips and whispered “Thank you slut, I enjoyed that. We are off to our rest room to have a little break now. Don’t go away we haven’t finished with you yet” she joked. I heard them leave the room, the door close and the key turn in the lock. The tension being applied to my body by the rack was hardly bearable and once again I fell in and out of consciousness until they returned.
  Judy and the women breezed in. They had obviously decided what they wanted to do as she came straight over and started to seduce me. Once again I was obliged to service each one before Judy clambered on the bench and thrust her penis down my throat again. This time, instead of the frenzied thrusts that I had endured previously, these were slow and measured. Judy intended to extend her pleasure for as long as possible. I could easily have tried to bite it, but what was the point. Between Sandra, Judy and the women they had finally, and in virtually no tine at all, mentally and physically defeated me and I did not have an ounce of self worth or respect left. They had made me into their totally submissive slave and they were rewarding themselves for their efforts. As her penis slowly grew harder and longer under each lingering stroke, she spoke to me excitedly “Oh! I know that you will be delighted about this. I have always wanted to have my boobs done properly but never had quite enough money, what with having to keep my wardrobe up to date, but now that I am selling your house I can easily afford it and I’ll be having a few other odds and ends done too. I knew you’d be pleased. Oh! And the sale of your car has gone through so I can go and buy that Pierre Cardin gown. Isn’t life just truly wonderful?”
   Judy sighed audibly as her penis finally exploded in my throat. She climbed off, redressed herself and then thankfully relaxed the tension of the rack and took it down one notch. “We have all had a wonderful few hours”, she said “ and before we finish we have decided to treat you. We know how much you enjoyed your new present so as a special favour we shall let you taste it again”
  They unchained me from the rack. Blood rushed everywhere through my body and my joints ached indescribably as they dragged me off the bench. I tottered on my heels as they led me to one of the walls where they spread-eagled me again, and chained me to it with my face against the whitewashed bricks. Again I heard the whish of the whip through the air and felt it cut agonisingly into my skin. “The slave will count fifty lashes” snorted one of the women, “starting from now”. I counted out loud up to ten. “We can’t hear you” another of the women said “Shout it out. Start the count again!”
   I really do not know how many lashes I received. I do not remember counting any more but when I awoke they were redressing me back into my corset, panties and stockings. The pain from the branding irons, the whip and the rack was intensified beyond belief as the corset was relentlessly tightened around my body. I was unchained from the wall and felt the cold steel of my slave chains as they were locked back on my wrists and ankles.
  “Stand to attention slut!” barked Judy, “I have one last job”. My heart sank I just could not take any more physical punishment. She continued “In this dusty room my thigh boots have become very dirty. You will lick them clean and make them shine” One of the women brought in a chair and Judy sat in it. I kneeled in front of her and started my task. It was not easy, my mouth was dry, I had not had anything to drink for hours and her pleasuring had made it unbelievably sore. Judy watched my every lick and wallowed in my discomfort. She held the whip in her right hand and threateningly played with the cord on my raw and scarred shoulders
   It seemed to take for ever but Judy did not mind. Her total power over me thoroughly delighted her and the longer it lasted the more she liked it. I had systematically gone from her high heel on the right boot, up the leg, down the leg of the left boot and finished with the heel and they shone brightly in the light from the brazier. I kneeled back to say I had finished. She stood up and walked around glancing down at her boots. She turned back to me and despatched a whiplash across my back. “Insolent slave. These are nowhere near good enough. Do them again!”
  She sat down again smiling broadly as I repeated my task. This time, when I finished, she grudgingly accepted them.
“This might be the last time that I see you. Now that the women own you it is up to them to decide what they want to do to you. I know that in the past they have tortured their slaves to death so they will probably do the same to you. I have quite a soft spot for you though and might decide to buy you if the price was right and I have not spent all your money” She mused about the irony of that, buying me as her slave with my money and chuckled at that. “I may ask about it later but for now I want to leave you with another little present” “Good grief. What now” I thought. She stood up in front of me and as I knelt on the floor, lowered her panties and girdle and steered her penis into my mouth once more. She put her gloved hands on my head and again used slow and measured strokes but this time she made it last twice as long before she exploded in ecstasy.
“Now wasn’t that a lovely going away present” she asked and, turning to the women said “I’ve finished with her now, the slut is all yours”. She adjusted her attire and without looking back strode out of the room and closed the door behind her. The women congregated around me. “You’ve worn us out too” they joked “ so we’ll save you until tomorrow”. I was hauled onto my feet as I heard the sound of another squeaking pulley block. This time I could see one of the cages which hung on chains from the high ceiling being lowered down to the floor. It was about a 3ft cube made up of a grid of steel strips about 6 inches apart. A door, fitted with a heavy padlock was on one of the sides and this was opened and I was forced in. I just about fitted in and sat crouched up with my head leaning forward. The door was slammed shut and I heard the key as it closed the padlock. I heard the pulley block squeak again and felt the cage rise until it was high in the ceiling. Through the grille I saw the women down below leave the room and heard them lock the door. The cage gently swung too and fro in the glow from the brazier. I went to sleep totally exhausted.


I awoke to the sound of the pulley block being used and the swinging sensation as my cage was lowered to the ground. One of the women stepped forward, unlocked the door and pulled me out. “Stand to attention slut” she barked. One of the others attached the lead chain to my penis and scrotum and I was led out of the chamber, along one of the passageways and into the wash room. In precisely the same way as before I was instructed to wash, make up and polish my boots and shackles. This time, however, when I was stripped they also pulled off my false breasts which, despite all that had happened to me, still remained resolutely adhered to my chest.
  I assumed that we would return to the Torture Chamber so they could carry on, but I was surprised to find me hobbling up the stairs and back into the office where Sandra was working at the desk. I could see that she was again dressed in PVC but this time she was in white. One of the women pulled me into the centre of the room and, as usual, I was ordered to stand to attention. She carried on working for some time, not even glancing at me until she put her pen down, closed the book she had been writing in, sat back in her seat and looked me in the eyes. “I have decided to give you another chance, slut. Do you want to take it?” With the other option of being left to the tender mercies of the women in their play room, I found myself unhesitatingly saying “Yes please My Lady”. I could not believe that I said “yes please and thank you” for the privilege of existing as a sex-slave, but such had been my demise in just a few days. She stood up and walked to the front of the desk. She looked superb in her white patent leather high heeled thigh boots, white PVC trousers, jacket and gloves. She even had a glistening white whip to set off the outfit! “Are you going to be a good obedient slave from now on?” she asked “Yes, My Lady” I replied. “Good. Your induction has now been completed. The last two days were designed to destroy you physically and mentally, to demean you and strip every vestige of self worth you may have harboured so that we can mould you into a slave we can use and our clients can enjoy. You have my permission to kneel down” I sank to my knees. I tried to absorb what she had said but knew deep down just how very well her plan had worked.
  The door opened and, dressed identically to Sandra, in walked Judy. They embraced and Sandra kissed Judy and congratulated her on the psychological job that she had done on me. They beamed and turned and looked at me, “We have a lovely present for you, one we know that you will really appreciate”. Another one! I thought, judging by the presents that I have had to endure so far I can really do without another one thank you. They tugged me up by my lead chain, led me over to the dressing table and sat me down. “Open that” said Sandra pointing to a box on the table. Despite the restrictions of my chains I managed to reach across and pull the box towards me. I must admit that it was with some trepidation that I took the lid off and peered into the box but I was very pleasantly surprised. It contained a pair of the most superb false breasts that I have ever seen. Everything about them was just right, the size, weight, movement and colour were absolutely spot on and I could not wait to try them on. Judy and Sandra knew that I was really excited about them and helped me to nestle them into position in my corsets. They made me feel absolutely wonderful, they were the best boobs that I had ever tried on and almost made up for all the pain and agony that I had endured. “Do you like them?” asked Sandra. I nodded in appreciation. “Our slaves must look top drawer at all times and a good set of boobs is utterly essential. Now that you have been inducted you will wear these.”
  They marked their position with an eyebrow pencil, withdrew them from my corsets and took them off exposing my chest. Judy gave me an electric shaver and told me to shave my chest which I gleefully did. Sandra smeared the breasts with super glue, positioned them to the marks and pressed them home. I put a bit of face powder on them to visually blend them to the natural colour of my chest and felt absolutely superb as they hung and wobbled in front of me. There was still a huge smile on my face as they refitted my corset, squeezing my new boobs into a beautiful cleavage.
  “How do you like your present?” asked Judy, the beam on my face answering her question, “would you like to do something for us now?” I responded positively and they led me across the room to the huge chair behind the desk. Judy perched herself on the edge of the desk whilst Sandra squeezed her little bum out of her tight shiny white trousers and panties and sat in the chair. Sandra opened her legs and beckoned me with her finger to lean forward and lick her clitoris.
  The rest of the day was taken with me pleasuring the girls in turn and we were all pretty exhausted when one of the women came in with wine and food for Judy and Sandra. “Are you hungry too?” asked Sandra, knowing full well that I had not eaten anything other than the dog food since I had been there. “Yes, I am my Lady” I responded. She pressed the buzzer and one of the women came in carrying two dog bowls. “Oh good grief, here we go again!” I thought but when she placed them on the floor I could see that one contained water and the other spaghetti Bolognese. “Bon appetit” cried Judy as they tucked into their food. I never really liked spaghetti Bolognese at all but this was the equivalent of a banquet. I had to eat it “doggy style” on all fours and, although I was ravenous, I had the presence of mind to eat it slowly. I did not want to be sick again, Sandra might have really changed her mind this time and handed me over to the women for good!
  After we had finished eating Sandra went to the desk, opened the drawer and withdrew some papers. “As agreed with Judy, you will sign these” she said thrusting a ball point pen into my hand. Whilst still on my hands and knees I duly signed them. It was Judy’s turn to beam a smile. She now officially owned all my property and knew that she was going to have a ball spending the money”
  Sandra pressed the buzzer once more and one of the women came in. “Take the slut away we have finished with it for the day” she said. The woman took me into the workshop, refitted the number disc to my slave collar and led me back down to the dungeons. We duly arrived at the open door to my cell and I was pleasantly surprised to see that a camp bed had been placed in it along with a bucket and a small bottle of water. I reflected on how the day had turned out. I had hardly been whipped and now I was a fully fledged slave I was obviously enjoying the fruits of my capitulation, meagre though they were. She led me to the bed and padlocked my slave collar to a long chain hanging from one of the walls. “Sleep tight, you have a busy day tomorrow” she said as she switched the light out and slammed the door, leaving the cell in total darkness. I quickly fell asleep.

My next few weeks (how many I do not know as I had still not seen daylight since I had arrived there) were taken up with a regular routine. The women would get me up, administer my daily ration of whip lashes and take me to the wash room for my ablutions, make up and the polishing of my chains and boots. Three things were different now about this particular procedure. After they took my clothes off so I could bathe I now had the glorious and wonderful sensation of feeling my new boobs hanging and wobbling in front of me as I walked. I felt so sexy! The water was now warm and bath salts had been added to ease my aches and the other was that after bathing the women applied creams to my wounds, soothingly helping them to heal up more quickly.
    After making myself look pretty and presentable the remainder of the day was spent in instruction on how to please clients. It would appear that they had a wide spread of sexual depravities and sadistic preferences and it was our duty to ably satisfy their every need. I was checked over by a doctor and given a blood test to make sure that I was not carrying any infections, a procedure later carried out as a matter of course after returning from each assignment.
During all this I never ever saw another slave, although I often heard chains rattling when I was in my cell at night. I was told that this was another psychological weapon used on us. Not seeing any others added to the feeling of total isolation and helplessness! After training I was returned to my cell and given a small plate of food which I was able to consume before I was chained up for the night. More usually I was able to sleep in the bed but sometimes the women chained me spread-eagled and facing the wall and enthusiastically administered the whip just to make sure that I did not feel too comfortable now.
   Sandra was very pleased with my progress and told me I was ready to go out on trial. She had a number of clients that she was able to use for her probationary slaves and were willing to give an appraisal and decided that I should go out that very week! I was told that today was Wednesday and I would be able to use the next few days to hone up my new skills before the big day! She was going to send me out as one of her “Weekend Specials”, where a slave is hired out from Friday night through to Sunday night. As a very popular added bonus to the client, and by prior arrangement, the slave is chained spread-eagled and facing the wall with its corset removed before she arrives home from work. This makes it immediately ready for the client to relieve herself of her frustrations built up through the week

Friday morning duly arrived and I took extra care with my make up and my chains and clothes positively gleamed. I was determined to make a good impression on my first assignment in my new life. I was taken to Sandra in her office and she gave me a close inspection. “Very good, you’ll do. I know that you won’t let me down. Now this is what will happen”, she continued, “at 1.00pm you will be taken to our despatch area, packed into a special crate and loaded into our delivery van. The client lives some distance away and the journey will take a couple of hours. When you arrive you will remain in the van whilst our agents install your wall chains in the house. They will then unload you and the crate from the van and wheel you into the house where you will be spread-eagled and shackled facing the wall. Your corset will be removed and you will then be ready for your client. You shall be issued with a Support Bag. This contains materials for your ablutions, full make-up and a standard issue Whip for the use if the client. The agents will remain there until the client arrives and she will sign for you, checking the number on the disc around your neck or the brand marks with the one on the invoice. The client is obliged, in her contract, to administer at least twenty lashes on receipt of the slave and as a further service, and if the client wishes, the agents will remain there until she has finished with you and either turn you around in your wall chains or return you to your slave chains. Do you understand?” “Yes my Lady” I responded. “In that case we will arrange for you to have some food and drink before you go and ensure that you visit the toilet”
   She pressed the buzzer and one of the women entered with two dog bowls. I readily consumed the contents before a lead chain was attached and I was led down to the despatch room. The woman indicated for me to crouch on a wood and steel pallet, barely 2ft square, then two others lowered a box, probably no more than 3ft high, over me and then I heard the sound of latches been closed as it encased me. It was very uncomfortable to say the least, I was hardly able to move and there did not appear to be any air holes, although there were one or two tiny gaps where the crate was sealed. They used a sack truck to carry it out to the van and I saw a tiny glimpse of daylight, the first time for many days, as I was wheeled out to the vehicle. The van had a tail lift and within seconds the crate and I were in the back. I heard the engine turn over and then we were off.
   I think that it was the most bumpy and uncomfortable ride that I had ever endured and was highly relieved when I heard the sound of gravel under the wheels of the van as it proceeded up a long drive to the clients house. The engine was switched off and I heard the agents go into the house. It was some time before they came back to collect me and transport the crate and me into the building. The box was opened and I could see that I was in a large entrance hall. I was led, not into a cellar as I had expected but into a large drawing room where my wall chains awaited me, somewhat incongruously, amongst the elegant furniture. I was duly shackled facing the wall and my corset removed.
  The agents disappeared into the kitchen to make themselves a drink and we awaited the arrival of the client. The sound of tyre tracks on the gravel drive heralded her arrival and I heard conversations as the agents met her in the hall. They came into the room, “So this is the new slave then?” she said, walking over towards me, “let’s just check the number?” I assume that she was able to read the numbers branded on my back and buttocks because she did not try to read the disc attached to my slave collar. “Let’s get on with it then” she added and once more I heard the whish of the whip through the air as my twenty lashes were dispensed. “That will do for now, I’ll save my energies for later, can you turn it around and then you can go” she asked the agents. “Very good madam”, they replied and turned me around so that I was spread-eagled and facing into the room. The agents bid their farewell, arranged a pick-up time for the Sunday and departed.
  Through the thick net curtains I could see that it was still light outside. I could actually see through a window for the first time since I did not know when and all of a sudden I was in contact with the outside world again. This made my enslavement difficult to take. I was within touching distance of freedom, but had not a hope of achieving it and the psychological effect was devastating.
   The client came back into the room strode over to me. She was in her early thirties I would guess, beautiful with long blonde hair and elegantly dressed in a black business suit and high heels. She lowered my knickers and my penis quickly responded as she played her long immaculately manicured red nails along it. A deep smile appeared on her face and she briefly left the room and came back with a couple of boxes, one of which she placed in front of me. She unzipped her skirt and let if fall to the floor revealing white satin knickers and suspenders. She sensuously teased her knickers down, stepped out of the clothes and onto the box and slid my fat and expectant penis into her wet vagina. We were now face to face and kissed passionately. She expertly controlled the thrusts and manoeuvred the situation so that we more or less both climaxed together and after all the teasing suffered at the hands of Judy it was utterly glorious. “Mmm that was reasonably OK” she said “You’ll have to do better tonight when I have all my friends around. I’ll wait till then to score you for Sandra”
  With that she left the room and closed the door to the hall. I heard water running upstairs and presumed that she was having a bath. About an hour later I heard a vehicle come up the drive, the door bell rang and I heard the client come down the stairs and answer the door. It was apparently the caterers delivering the food for the party and she ushered them through to the kitchen. Night had fallen and the room was in darkness when she next came in carrying cases of bottles of wine. She closed the curtains before switching on the light and revealing the stunning gown that she was wearing for the night. It was a skin tight full length gown in midnight blue sequins with a plunge neckline and slashed to the thighs. With her fishnet stockings and silver stiletto sandals she looked fantastic and she could see my penis reacting to the sensuality of it all. She smiled and said “I should save that for later, you’ll need it, I promise!”
   The next half an hour or so was spent with her fussing around, tidying up, putting glasses and bottles out and placing dishes of snacks and sandwiches on the tables. The sound of a car pulling up outside of the door announced the first arrival, another beautiful woman gorgeously dressed! “Oh so this is your new slave” she said, “are we going to test drive her?” “I’ve already had a little taster” replied the client, “and it was pretty OK”.
  The client had brought in a variety of boxes of differing heights for her guests to stand on and the new arrival tried a couple before settling on one and stood on it so we were face to face. “I think this will do nicely” she beamed. The smell from her perfume was electrifying and as she pulled up her green satin gown I could see that she had come prepared – she wasn’t wearing any knickers! This set the tone for the rest of the night and as it wore on I was absolutely staggered by the number of beautiful women who had come to the party and I was really envious of all the beautiful gowns and dresses that they wore. It was an utterly bizarre situation, they were all lesbians and kissing and cuddling each other but some of them were also “bisexual” and came over to seduce me as and well they felt like it. I was truly being used as a sex-slave, not that I minded, with women like these it was a hell of a lot better than just being whipped.
   Around about midnight the client, whom I had lost sight of in all the melee and had not seen for ages, smooched up to me and after she had been serviced announced that she wanted me to meet her girlfriend and would go and fetch her. I should have guessed. It was Sandra, looking absolutely superb in a strapless bright red velvet ball gown. “Well hello slut” she beamed, “I hope that you have been keeping the guests well satisfied?” “I don’t know about that my Lady” I replied, “but I’m doing my best”. “Well let’s take a quick check shall we?” Sandra said, selecting a suitable box. She, as with all the numerous guests that I had thus far encountered, was not wearing any knickers and when she raised her gown up to expose her white stockings and suspenders I just disappeared into a huge, heavenly volume of sensually rustling white tulle, lace and satin petticoats. She fed me in and although I was very sore, she slowly and wonderfully extracted as much pleasure for us as she could. When she had finished she stepped off the box and adjusted her dress. “Well I suppose that was OK for a first assignment” she said.
   The night wore on but the party just kept going and I was in non-stop demand. It was a physical impossibility to satisfy them all and one or two of the guests were complaining to the client about poor performance and “favouritism”, as though I had any choice in the matter! The client came over to me and said “This is not very good, slut. This will go down on my report. Anyway I think that it is time now that all the ladies were able to enjoy you, not just the bisexuals” I was not quite sure what she meant, but I had a pretty good idea and this was confirmed when she expertly re-chained me to face the wall and removed my corset. “Now ladies, please mind my wallpaper” joked the client and to choruses of cheers and giggles each of the guests had a go at whipping my back. Fortunately by now they were pretty inebriated and tired and most of them, not wishing to spoil their beautiful gowns, just gave me a couple of lashes before handing it over to the next.
   When everyone had finished the client repositioned my corset and turned me back around again to face the room. By now it was several hours into Saturday and the party was at long last starting to break up. Within about half an hour only Sandra and the client remained. “We’re off to bed now. We’re very tired and it’s too late to do anything about the mess here so we’ll sort you and the room out in the morning.” With that they left the drawing room hand in hand and switched out the light. I slumped in my chains and fell asleep – I had earned it.

I was awoken by the sudden glare of the shafts of sunlight as the curtains were opened. “Good morning, slut” said the client, dressed in a gorgeous white stain dressing gown, “or should I say Good afternoon?” she joked. The room was in a typical post-party mess and the client cleared one of the coffee tables as Sandra brought in a tray of coffee and toast for their breakfast. They sat down and I heard them discuss how the party had gone the night before and the schedule for the day. They decided that before I was going to be given anything to eat or the chance to have a bath and clean myself up, I was going to be given the job of clearing up and tidying the drawing room. Sandra removed me from the wall, fitted me in my slave chains and attached a long chain to my slave collar. After I was administered my daily twenty lashes I spent the next few hours at least hobbling between the drawing room and the kitchen on my 5in heels. The restrictions of the chain between my ankles and the long chain to my collar made fetching and carrying very difficult but this was all part of my learning process. By the time that I had finished cleaning the room and washing and drying all the crockery and glasses it was almost early evening.
   The client gave me a small plate of food and a glass of water and after I had finished said “Right you can go and make yourself ready for tonight” and, having disconnected the chain from my slave collar took me upstairs to a large opulent bathroom. My Support Bag was already there and I was instructed to complete my preparations within three hours. She took off my slave chains and clothing and, having connected my slave collar to another chain, left me to get on with it.
   By the time that the client came to collect me, I was immaculate, I had spent an hour on just my face and my clothes and chains shone. She was gorgeously dressed once again, this time in a tight purple PVC sheath dress that clung to every curve. It was quite amusing as she led me down to the drawing room we were both hobbling, me under the restraints of my chains and she within the restrictions of her dress. As I entered the drawing room Sandra was already in there putting out bottles of champagne in ice buckets and, apart from the colour of peacock blue, she was identically dressed to the client. I was chained to the wall as before and awaited the arrival of the first guest. It turned out that Saturday night was going to be just like Friday night but with a different guest list. Once again I was staggered by the beauty of the women and their gowns and as far as I could tell not one of them had attended the night before. This woman had one hell of an Address Book!
  Around about midnight the client came up to me and said, “So that we don’t have a repeat of last night’s failure have this”. She gave me a blue lozenge shaped tablet and I washed it down with a glass of water. “May I ask what it is?” I enquired. “That was 50mgf of Sildenafil” she replied. I was none the wiser until she added “but you probably know it as Viagra”. With the exception of the benefit of my enhanced performance the night went much as it had previously and it was well past dawn before Sandra and the client went to bed and left me to fall asleep in my wall chains.
   The early part of Sunday was much the same too. I was delegated to do all the tidying up and eventually had some food and then use of the bathroom at about 2.00pm. This time I was only given two hours to get ready as the van was coming at 8.00pm and the client wanted me for her personal use until then. Sandra had gone back home by the time that the client collected me from the bathroom to entertain her for the rest of the day.
    She knocked on the door and ordered me to close my eyes before she entered. When she came in she tightly tied a blindfold around my eyes. I could smell her perfume, it was even more exotic than that she had worn previously and I felt the soft touch of fur on my face. She put my slave chains on me, but this time with my hands behind my back, and tightened my corset, disconnected my slave collar from the chain and reconnected it to a lead chain. She led me out of the room and, blindfolded, I hobbled along behind her.
   We did not go far, just along the landing to a bedroom where I was ordered to kneel down. She took off my blindfold and apologised for messing up my hair. I could see that it was a huge bedroom, all in white, with a superb double bed. She too was dressed in white, in a sumptuous white ankle length fur coat at the bottom of which I could see her feet clad in white patent leather with high stiletto heels. She gave me a Sildenafil tablet and then smiled at me broadly before standing about a foot in front of me and slowly opening her coat. What a glorious sight beheld me! Her breasts oozed out of a white satin corset which crimped her waist into the classic shape. Lace and satin trimmed suspenders held her white silk stockings and her legs were clad in white patent leather thigh boots. She wore no knickers and tugged my lead chain towards her vagina. “What are you waiting for slut?” she asked as she enveloped both of us in her fur coat. I tackled my task with some relish and took great pleasure in making her moan and gyrate under the renderings of my tongue.
   She eventually reached ecstasy with a gleeful shout as I felt her long red nails dig into my shoulders. She moved away and sat on the edge of the bed. “I am sure that you enjoyed being in control for a little time there”, she said “but now it’s time for normal service to be resumed” and she indicated that she wanted me to get on the bed. With my hands chained behind me it was more awkward that usual to manoeuvre but I eventually managed to lie down on the bed where she had indicated. She climbed on, straddled my thighs and steered my eager penis deep into her.
   We completely lost track of time before the doorbell rang and it was the hour for me to be collected. She hurriedly dressed and led me downstairs into the hallway where I was crated up again to take me back. The return trip was just as uncomfortable as it had been going there and I was relieved to find that the women allowed me to sleep on the bed in the cell rather than be chained to the wall. I quickly fell asleep totally exhausted!


I was awakened on the Monday morning and went through the routine of being whipped and then I washed and got ready to see Sandra and hear the verdict.
  That was some time ago now, I passed OK and I have been on many assignments since then and continue to do so. The variety of clients that I have encountered so far is amazing, from bored housewives who club together to enjoy a slave for just a few hours to professional high-fliers, like my very first client, who love the status symbol of having their own slave on tap available for sex and hang it in chains for all to see.
   You may wonder how and why I came to write my story. This was Sandra’s idea. She loves to gloat about her “Women for Women” and thought that my experiences really summarized what it was all about and what she had achieved. With her permission I wrote it in a notebook, a few hours each night over a number of months before lights out which, as a concession was delayed to give me the time to write it
  Sandra’s business goes from strength to strength and there is an insatiable appetite for new slaves. Judy and her colleagues are still on the look out for new candidates – All you trannies out there have been warned!

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