The Perfect Slave


Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Slavery, Heterosexual, Fiction, Cheating, BDSM, DomSub, MaleDom, Torture, Oral Sex, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: I might be the Master and as such, the one in control, but really, who is slave to whom in this relationship?

Denise really was the perfect slave. The level of submission and compliance was far beyond that of any I had experienced before and I have been training slaves for a long time.

The golden rule is establishing a safe word at the very beginning. It can be anything that wouldn't be used in the context of sex so a word like "apricot" is good. Denise had never used her word even though I had taken her to extremes of torment.

Never once had she complained when my whip slashed at her skin, raising deep red welts across her tits and buttocks. Using a speculum on her hadn't fazed her at all. She seemed to relish the harsh slap of the paddle and had never once resisted the pinch of her manacles. Taking her to the precipice of orgasm, only to be denied the pleasure, never once brought forth a word of complaint. Even when she had been passed over to the ministrations of other Dom's in the club, had she mentioned her safe word and they all knew it before being given free access to her body. Even the extreme of electro-stimulation produced nothing more than the twitch of her muscles where the clamps bit into her pussy lips and the current passed through them.

Denise would be waiting for me when I returned home from work, kneeling just inside the front door, with her knees apart as she had been trained to do, wrists locked together, in manacles, behind her back and her rhinestone or steel choker on. Her head would be held high, her back straight. She would be naked and ready to do my bidding and eager to please me.

No hole was out of bounds with Denise. She would have me in her ass just as easily as her cunt or mouth. She didn't seem to mind if my seed filled any of those orifices, or spilled out over her chest, back or face or between her toes, just grateful for the attention. She would sit all day, chained to the bed or the banister, waiting for my return. As long as she had a chamber pot and some bottled water, Denise would be in the same place that I had left her, even though she could activate the release of her manacles. If I set her to do the cleaning, then I could be certain she would have polished every surface, naked as I insisted and, if by some miracle, she had missed a spot, for I would check thoroughly, she would run to fetch a paddle or whip, accept her punishment silently and then do the thing she had missed, with the redness of her punishment fading on her skin.

She didn't even use the safe word when I strapped her to the railings of our balcony at the hotel we stayed in, on holiday, in Cyprus, even though everyone who passed by, could see her nakedness, see clearly, her sex held open, spread as she was by the ties. Not a sound escaped her as I whipped her ass in full view of those total strangers, not a tear, nothing, only a renewed eagerness to make me happy when I released her.

I had not reached her boundaries in the eighteen months she had been with me. I am sure she had them, but I had not found them as yet and I wasn't sure I wanted to go very much further in searching for them. Perhaps my boundaries were narrower than hers.

I left her with a leash on, tied to an eyebolt in the wall in the kitchen. Her instruction for the day was to defrost the fridge and prepare dinner for that evening. The leash, attached to her iron neck ring, was long enough to give her complete movement around the kitchen, but nowhere else. She would be naked, her natural condition, with the exception of an apron so that she didn't burn herself.

I left for work, shutting the front door after slapping her ass and leaving a red mark that would gradually fade. Thank you Master was all she said as the door clicked shut.

Later that day, I was having my customary latte in Starbucks while I read the paper. As usual, it was busy and seats were hard to come by. Suddenly, a nudge on my elbow from behind, knocked the whole steaming cup full of coffee into my lap, more importantly, over my crotch. The hot liquid reached my cock almost straight away. I had to jump up to pull the wet fabric away so I wasn't scalded.

"I am most dreadfully sorry" She was stunningly beautiful, even more so that she was blushing in embarrassment. "Please, let me get you another." And then she looked at my hand, frantically holding the steaming hot fabric away from my groin. She laughed and it was pure music to hear.

"It's okay." I heard myself say.

"Well can I help in any way?" She managed to ask as she stifled her giggles. I couldn't help it, I laughed to, knowing how silly it looked, with me hopping from foot to foot, clutching my flies like they were on fire.

"Alice." She held her hand out.

"Um ... Robert ... pleased to meet you." I couldn't shake hands right at that moment. I still had the cup in one and my trousers in the other.

"Please let me buy you another coffee." I declined, but took the opportunity to look her over. Her beauty was more than just her face. Her body was in great shape. Neither too large, in the areas that matter to a man, nor too small either. Proportionally, she was perfect, with auburn hair and freckles on her shoulders. My cock hardened in its wet haven. I have long been a sucker for freckles.

.... There is more of this story ...

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