Chapter 2

And so it was the following morning that I awoke late, yawned lazily and swung my legs out of bed and onto the plush carpet of my bedroom. Brushing my teeth in the en-suite bathroom I contemplated my days work ahead, the further training of my new slave.

Years of anticipation seemed to have allowed me to slip in to the role of a Master with great ease, and rather than allowing myself to become over excited about things, I realized that I must keep calm and focused if I was to have any success in creating a perfect slave.

After a leisurely breakfast accompanied by several cups of coffee, I dressed and made my way down into the cellar, shivering at the cold blast of air that greeted me upon opening the intervening door and feeling glad I was wearing a thick pullover.

In the cell to the left, huddled in a protective ball lay my slave, shivering from cold and anticipation.

She looked up as she heard me approach, and sat half upright, instinctively crossing her thighs to hide her hairless sex, and cradling her breasts in her free arm, in a futile attempt to protect her modesty. How soon the memories of her last lesson had faded.

She eyed me cautiously, forgetting completely her instruction never to look her Master directly in the eye, but I let this go. I made a mental note of the transgression though; it would be dealt with later.

"Sleep well?" I inquired, somewhat sarcastically.

Her eyes finally dropped at this comment

"No, I couldn't" she muttered in return.

Again I made a note of her sullen tone and her reluctance to answer with enthusiasm.

"Stand up" I ordered.

She hesitated. I could hazard a guess that she had probably spent most of the night analysing her current position and agonizing over the moral dilemma her forced obedience had created.

It was not in her nature to stand to attention, naked, at the sole request of a man who had yesterday inflicted more pain upon her person than she had ever dreamed possible.

Nevertheless she began to stand, her body stiff and aching from her night on the concrete floor of her cell, her progress hampered by the fact that she was still trying to protect her modesty as she struggled to rise.

"Put your hands on your head and turn around, slowly!" I commanded.

Again the hesitation. Despite the fact that every part of her body had been scrutinized the day before, she insisted on trying to maintain an air of modesty.

"Now!" I barked.

Reluctantly, her shoulders dropping in temporary defeat, she linked her fingers on the top of her head, involuntarily pulling her pert breasts up and out, and began to shuffle round, her face reddening with renewed embarrassment.

With satisfaction, I noted yesterdays weals standing in criss-cross white lines across her rump, and a particularly angry looking slash across her breasts, perfectly dissecting her right nipple.

"So do you feel ready to carry on with your training?" I asked, reasonably

"I..." her voice tailed off, unsure as to what to say that wouldn't enrage me.

I waited patiently

"I... Its just... you mustn't use the whip on me, I don't... I cant"

her voice broke into a sob as she recalled her lesson of the previous day.

" Answer me this," I asked, leaning closer to the bars of her cage

"If I allowed you to go now, would you leave?"

She caught her breath, astounded at what she had heard.

"Would you let me?" she asked, hardly daring to suggest it

"That's academic" I replied,

"I repeat, would you leave?"

" Yes!! I mean, where would I go? I don't know" she burst into about of fresh sobbing

Sighing I unlocked the cage door, she looked at me warily as I guided her firmly to the centre of the floor and deftly cuffed her two wrists together in one fluid movement.

"Oh no..." she began, trying to pull away from me, her eyes wide and panic stricken

"You can't..." she spat through gritted teeth, trying in earnest now to break free from my grasp.

It was not difficult to raise her flailing arms above her head and cuff them to the ceiling ring.

Despite her obvious entrapment, she continued to writhe, hoping against hope that the chain between her cuffs would snap, or that the lock would fail. She was un-rewarded.

Not bothering to cuff her ankles this time, as I warily viewed her kicking, protesting legs, I walked over to my selection of tools, this time choosing a long thin switch

I balanced it delicately in the palm of my hand, feeling its weight before addressing my captive.

"We don't seem to be learning very fast, do we" I intoned, facetiously

In truth, I was not surprised. I had expected this reaction. It was far too optimistic to expect a subject to submit herself to you after the first beating, however severe. It was basic human instinct to make at least a token gesture of defiance, even in the face of overwhelming odds and this was it. I also knew, with almost certainty, that I would be easily able to defeat this latest show of impudence during today's instruction.

I waited patiently for her futile writhing to finish, her head hung limp, the sudden surge of adrenalin she had felt, combined with her ordeal of the previous twelve hours had taken the fight from her.

"Somewhere in you, deep down, there is a need to be dominated." I began simply.

"From where this need originates, we cannot know, I can only tell you that you are not on your own, and a great many people share your desire, either to be dominated or to dominate."

I paused to gather my thoughts. I had her full attention; even her sobbing had subsided to a whimper.

" For most people, these needs will go unrecognised, undeveloped, and they will never have the opportunity to experience what their heart is telling them is right.

For some people, being tied to the bed with a silk scarf by a gentle lover is enough to satiate their curiosity. I, on the other hand, am personally supervising the development of your particular needs.

The books I leant you germinated that desire, uncovering thoughts that had before only existed in your subconscious.

The possibility that you could make the theme of those books your reality only served to further add fuel to the fire.

By the time you had read and signed the slave contract, you were inescapably bound to answer the desire that had begun to grow inside you, and from that moment on that seedling became MINE."

I paused to let the words sink in

"Unfortunately for you, I am not prepared to allow the need within you to gently flower, as my patience and time do not allow it.

After finding and recognizing your needs, I intend drag them out of you kicking and screaming, moulding and shaping them to my own end.

I realized I was beginning to shout.

"Can you understand that?" I asked, sternly

"I'm sorry Master, "

she began quietly

"I do want to serve you, I want you to use me as you see fit. I can see my life has so much more worth in serving you, but the pain... its... I can't describe it."

She floundered, unable to put the intense agony into words.

"The whip is an important part of my process. I am teaching you by association. You have already begun to associate refusal to obey with intense, unbearable pain. Your brain is already beginning to encourage you to obey my voice without question, in order to escape a further punishment, an action you have no control over.

Despite this you are claiming to be more knowledgeable about these methods than me?"

"No Master, I..."

"Perhaps it should be up to you to choose the time and manner of your punishment?"

She began to sob again

"No Master, I'm sorry, you obviously know best, but I don't think I could take another..."

Her words tailed off in fear as she watched me walk to her right flank and raise the switch high above my head

"Your behaviour this morning has been disgraceful, not in the least appropriate for a slave under my instruction", I intoned, in a matter of fact voice

"Pleease!... Don't!..."

She heard the switch before she felt it, its thin, whippy end tracing a delicate, fleeting arc through the air. The resulting crack as it met her tender flesh was drowned out by her scream, her head thrown back, eyes wide, every sinew in her neck stretched to breaking, her face a mask of contorted agony.

Unconsciously her legs had begun to flail again, oblivious to the pain that it was obviously causing in her cuffed wrists.

Before the waves of nauseating pain had had chance to abate I struck again, just above the first, harder this time, relishing in the sound the supple switch made in the confines of the cellar.

No scream this time, just a look of frozen disbelief on her face at the new level of pain that she was suffering.

The silence soon gave way to a fresh shriek of agony however, as I delivered a third, yet harder blow, just above the previous two.

Her frame rigid, her spine arched in a futile attempt to pull her buttocks away from the source of the pain, I began to rain fierce, scything blows across her behind, gritting my teeth and perspiring slightly with the exertion.

As her body desperately tried to re-enforce its psychological barriers to the pain, I continued my assault upon her already damaged flesh.

Gasping, she began to succumb to the excruciating pain, howling like a whipped dog, tears flowing freely across her cheeks, her breath coming in short laboured gasps and her entire body-weight hanging from the cuffs over her head, the muscles in her legs too weak to support her.

Eventually I ceased, breathing heavily, and wiping the sheen of perspiration from my forehead.

"NOW do we have an understanding?" I asked.

It was a moment before she could muster enough energy to speak, and it was difficult to discern her words through the sobbing.

"Yes Master, I'm sorry Master, I won't question you again," she babbled.

She sounded genuine, the comments seeming less contrived than before. I had to be sure.

I walked behind her, tucking the switch under my arm. Very gently, despite the resulting groans of pain, I began to massage her scarlet, angry flesh.

"Don't run away with the idea that I'm doing you a favour, " I said after a few moments had passed.

"I'm rubbing life back into your numb flesh to ensure you feel the rest of your punishment." I finished, re-taking my stance by her right flank.

Her eyes desperately sought mine

"Jesus... NO... PLEASE!!!"

CRACK!

"NOW will you accept your position as a slave?" I asked patiently, when her howling had abated

"Yes, Yes, of course I'm yours just please don't... Oh, GOD!..."

CRACK!

"And I presume you wish to thank me for taking the time and considerable effort to punish you for your impudence today?"

"Yes I'm so sorry... Thank you Master, thank you, but please don't... !"

She was no longer in control of her speech, in a last desperate attempt to avoid any more pain; her brain was joining her body in defeat.

"CRACK!"

this time, rather than a scream a whimper.

Faintly, behind the other sounds in the room, I discerned the noise of trickling water. I looked down and saw the spreading puddle of fluid trickling down her legs and collecting at her feet. She had probably been waiting to use the toilet all night; I mused, and had finally lost the battle to hold onto her dignity

Trying not to smile, I addressed her again

"So there can be no mistake about the level of behaviour I expect from you?"

"No Master, I'll do anything that you... NOOOO!"

CRACK!!!

The switch whistled through the air for a final time, the last strike being the hardest and most damaging yet.

"If I should deign it necessary to punish you for any reason, you will submit to the that punishment willingly, or the suffering will be twice as bad, do you understand?"

She nodded wildly, "Please, No more, I'm so sorry I disobeyed you... "

I stood back to observe her for amount, hanging limply from the concrete ceiling beam, her eyes red with tears, her chest heaving with uncontrollable emotion, her legs swaying from side to side, trying and failing to hold her body weight.

"I'd like to think, that after a bad start, we've made some progress this morning" I commented, thoughtfully.

"Yes Master" she whispered, almost inaudibly.

"But perhaps we'd better leave you in this position for a while, to give you time to reflect upon what you've learnt"

"Yes, oh yes" she uttered, glad to be left fettered, knowing that at least the whip was being hung back on the wall.

Taking one more admiring look at the effect my exertions had had on her behind, I mounted the stairs, leaving her in the cold dimly lit confines of her prison, gently whimpering as she watched my retreating figure, the desperate all encompassing need to caress and sooth her damaged rear prevented by the unyielding chains above her head.

Relaxing back upstairs, sipping a fresh cup of coffee, I marvelled at the change that had been brought about over such a short space of time. It seemed like an age ago that she had arrived, conservatively dressed in faded jeans and t-shirt, nervously handing me her completed contract.

Then she had been as excited as she was nervous, looking forward to the thrill that she expected this new experience would give her. It was safe to assume, I mused, that this was not entirely what she had expected.

She hadn't been entirely wrong though, I considered, she would begin to appreciate her new role eventually. She would gain immense pleasure form pleasing me.

But there was a great deal of painful training to undergo before I could allow her to enjoy herself like that, and my plans for this afternoon were no exception.

Slipping my keys and wallet into my jacket pocket I left the house, quickly striding the short walk to my car.

I was quite looking forward seeing Chris again.

She was a nurse, a good nurse.

I say was, because she no longer worked for the NHS.

After an unpleasant incident, she had been summoned to a staff tribunal, and although nothing had been proved, it was universally felt by her superiors that she had irrevocably 'blotted her copy book' and she was pressured to leave.

It was fortunate that her management wasn't as familiar with the facts as I was, or she would certainly have been in a great deal more trouble.

It would be wrong to say I liked Chris; she frightened me too much for me ever to feel truly comfortable with her, more that I felt fascinated by her. We all have our own little idiosyncrasies, and I was no exception. But there was ultimately a point to what I was doing. The fact that she seemed to enjoy inflicting pain for pains sake intrigued me. I don't think it ever gave her any sexual fulfilment, she was simply sadistic.

It is difficult for me to say anymore without getting her into deep trouble, so suffice to say, she had an unnaturally vicious streak down her a mile wide that made her perfect for my purpose

It was for this reason that I had arranged to meet her.

The pub was bustling with office workers when I reached my destination, young ladies in tight short skirts and crippling high heels. Their false laughter and mixed perfumes filled the smoky atmosphere as they jostled for position on the mating hierarchy, each trying unconsciously in their own way to catch the eye of one of the painfully casual, be-suited clerks at the bar, and then looking away indignantly if they succeeded in attracting their attention

Feigning disinterest, the overly ambitious businessmen in the making leant so far back over the bar as to be comical, desperate in their attempt to look disinterested and nonchalant.

As I watched I couldn't help but think how much less complicated a life of slavery must be, freed from the obligations these people felt to exhibit themselves for selection.

Debbie had no need to maintain this charade; any responsibility or pressure that had existed in the outside world had been stripped from her with the clothes from her back.

She had no 'image' to maintain. She had no heels or supporting straps or constricting bands with which to mould her body into the shape that society dictated.

She led a truthful existence, without any external trapping s to deceive the onlooker, her only purpose in life being to do her Masters bidding.

I made my way through the noisy rabble to find Chris already seated at the far end of the lounge, halfway through her first drink.

She got up as I approached. Smiling broadly.

Tall and lithe, and not altogether un-attractive, it was difficult to believe that this harmless looking woman could have been the perpetrator of such needlessly painful acts during her last period of employment. Shuddering inwardly at the thought, I smiled back, kissing her lightly on the cheek before making my way to the bar to buy our drinks.

"So you finally did it," she remarked, looking at me over the rim of her Vodka.

I nodded; Id filled her in with the details of my activities over the phone.

I knew I could trust her to be discreet. I knew enough about her past to ensure she would spend a the rest of her life in jail should I ever feel the need to 'spill the beans'

I turned the conversation briskly to the matter in hand.

"What do you think Chris, is it practical?" I asked expectantly.

"Certainly" she smiled, "anything's possible, you of all people should know that" she took another sip of her drink,

"Even with anaesthetic its likely to be extremely painful though, probably for a week or two at least"

I nodded; Id expected that, though I felt a twinge of pity for Debbie, if Chris said it was going to be painful, she meant it.

"Have you bought the tool?" she inquired, a glint in her eye and a half smile on her face,

Again I nodded. "Well, what are we waiting for?"

she asked abruptly, finishing her vodka and grimacing at the bitter taste before making swiftly for the exit door. I hurriedly bolted my own drink and caught up with her.

Half an hour later, we were back at my house, Chris carrying a handbag filled with the equipment she required.

She stopped me just at the top of the stairs to the cellar

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" she asked, "Its permanent you know, once its done you can't undo it"

"I know" I replied, eager to get the operation under way.

I led the way down the stairs and turned at the bottom in time to see Chris's face light up at the sight of Debbie hanging exactly as I had left her, looking only marginally recovered from the ordeal she had undergone three hours ago.

Despite the continuing pain in her buttocks, I saw Debbie writhe in embarrassment momentarily under our gaze, before remembering her position and standing stock still in order that my guest might continue her examination

Her red eyes opened wider however, as Chris pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and knelt down to closer examine her shaven, exposed sex.

Delicately pulling back the folds of tender pink flesh she quickly exposed the clitoris beneath, grasping it with her forefinger and thumb and tugging experimentally.

Debbie gasped at the sharp, warning pain this sent surging through her pelvis.

"Should be straight forward", commented Chris airily

"the clitoris is quite well pronounce anyway so I've got reasonable target to go at. We'll start with the slightly easier nipples though, have you got the tool?"

Out off my jacket I pulled the device she had asked for, causing Debbie to begin breathing heavily, unsure as to its use, but worried all the same.

I had been to my local hardware shop that morning and bought a leather punch.

Designed for putting steel eyelets in leather, it was pre-loaded with a stainless steel eye, and the material placed between its jaws, before squeezing the handles firmly together.