Paul slung his briefcase on the hotel bed. Another city, another hotel. Same ol' same ol'. He sighed, loosening his necktie. Check emails, shower, dinner then bed he thought.

Setting up the laptop on the dresser, he plugged it into the socket. He walked into the bathroom and started the shower running. Pouring himself a scotch and soda from the mini bar, he sat down to read his mail.

Most of it was routine, mundane office crap he mused. Whilst sipping his drink, the mail alert flashed up on screen and a new missive appeared. He stared in shock. He'd actually got a reply! Paul had spotted a personal advertisement in the paper a couple of days ago for a trainee slave. It had been hidden well down in amongst requests for hostesses and escorts and suchlike. Paul had pondered whether it was really advisable to answer it. In for a penny he thought. He'd always been interested in BDSM, had actually visited a couple of Mistresses over the years, but never had the time to find what he sought on a more permanent level. Seeing the advert had spurred him on. Now he had his chance.

The mail was short and to the point. It told him that if his desire was to get a cheap thrill and leave, then not to bother. However, if he genuinely wanted to become a slave, then he had to prepare and present himself as per the instructions contained in the mail.

Firstly, he had to give himself an enema. Then, shave his cock and ball area until there were no hairs left. Assuming he would have taken care of his general personal hygiene, he was then to cocktie himself as per the attached document detailing that procedure. At this, Paul studied the instructions. Satisfying himself he could follow them, he continued reading the mail.

Once he had completed his ablutions and cock tying, he was to dress in outer clothes only and present himself, at the address below, the following evening at 6pm sharp. If he arrived late he could just turn around and go back from whence he came.

Paul sat there, cock rock hard and throbbing. He knew he just HAD to check this out for himself. The steam from the bathroom seeped into his room, reminding him of his surroundings. He hurried to the bathroom to shower, his mind racing through all the preparations to make before tomorrow night, mentally making a note to purchase some decent cordage in the morning.

At precisely 5.50pm the following evening, Paul sat in his car, his cock throbbing with excitement and restraining cords holding him erect. He could barely contain himself and shifted around to try and get a little comfort. He had allowed plenty of time to get there and had arrived some ten minutes early. Paul mentally ticked off all his preparations against the list of instructions and knew he had followed them to the letter. The minutes he sat waiting in his car seemed an eternity. At 5.58pm he got out of his car, locked the door and walked up the path.

Paul pressed the buzzer to the left of the door. A speaker crackled into life. "Yes?" it said.

"I am here in answer to an email I received" Paul's nervousness was betrayed by the waver in his voice.

"On time, good. When this door opens I expect to see a male staring at his shoes. If you raise your eyes, this meeting will be over. Clear?" A voice, clearly used to command, barked at him in response.

"Perfectly ma'am." Paul's nervousness increased as he imagined all sorts of horrors once that door had opened. He heard the catch click and the handle began to turn. Hurriedly, Paul stared at his shoes noting, distractedly, that he really needed new ones.

"Very good start. What is your name?" a female voice enquired.

"Paul ma'am."

"Come in. Once the door is closed, you are to strip and then kneel. At no time must you raise your eyes. I decide when you are allowed to look at me, not you. Do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am." Paul gulped. Upon entering, he followed the instructions given and knelt waiting. He sincerely hoped she would let him look soon. The anxious desperation to look up was intense.

As if reading his thoughts, a blindfold dropped over his eyes, completely obscuring his vision. Hands at his neck made him aware also of a collar being fastened. The leash clasped onto the D-ring at the front. Suddenly, Paul felt his cock-tie cord tugged. Hands again at his neck fastened the cordage to the same D-ring. Pulled taut, the cord held his cock upright and straining painfully. Paul now knew that every movement would be pure torture.

There was another tug on the leash. Paul dropped to all fours, aware of the fact that with his head held up by the leash, the cord attached to his cock and balls was even tighter. He began to follow the direction of the tugs, eager to release the pressure from his tortured genitals. Hands and knees sinking into plush carpeting, he had no idea where he was going.

With his eyes of no use, Paul's ears were attuned to a much higher degree. A whisper of wood across carpet fibre and he knew a door was being opened. A tug and Paul crawled through to the next room. But wait! Cold stone? His captor's heels clicked and clacked in front of him. Paul followed, only to find he was descending a flight of stairs. Only the sound of haunting classical music playing stopped Paul from thinking he was outside. He realised he was in some sort of basement so he followed blindly on, wondering if he was at all wise putting himself so far from the outside world. There was little he could do to change anything now even if he had wanted to, which he didn't. He realised with a start, that leaving had never entered his mind. He was captive in a stranger's house and loving every second.

Paul's captor tugged sharply, halting him. Footsteps walked around to the front of him. A pull on the leash had him lifting his head up and as he did, the tightness of the cock binding re-established itself in Paul's pain-filled consciousness. His cock throbbed mercilessly; he waited, taut as a bowstring, for he knew not what.

A step closer and Paul's face was buried deep into a warm wet opening, his nostrils filled with that musky scent known as Woman. Every other thought deserts him as instinctively Paul focuses on that scent; it is the reason he is who he is. He searches with his tongue for that bud, the one thing he craves beyond all else. His face is coated in her scent, her juices covering mouth, nose and chin as he pays homage to her. Then suddenly, she is gone.

Paul whimpered at this sudden loss. Tortured and aroused, he jumps as he is commanded to kneel. He rises from his position on all fours and sits on his heels. He realises that he can still catch her scent on his face. He inhales, holding her scent in his mind, knowing he will recognise her now, sighted or unsighted. She has marked him as her own.

She moves and his wrists are cuffed, the metal clasps clanking behind him. "UP!" Paul hastily gets to his feet at the barked command. Suddenly his ankles are kicked apart and a spreader bar is attached.

A clinking sound behind Paul puzzles him, then her footsteps move away and a soft whirring starts. Listening intently Paul becomes aware that the slack on the chain attached to his wrist cuffs is being taken up slowly. Paul is forced forwards as his wrists are raised behind him. The whirring stops. He has no choice; either he bends or the chain dislocates his shoulders. Knowing that now he is totally open to his captor, Paul blushes profusely.

Embarrassed beyond words, Paul hangs there not daring to contemplate what will happen next. He inhales. There! It's her scent again. She must be close! Nerves verging on hysteria, Paul sobs; his mind beyond terror now, just waiting...

"Now you are mine Paul" a soft whisper, then she is gone again.

Silence.

Not a sound.

Footsteps die away.

Paul hangs there, desolate in his bindings; aware only of being left.

Paul's head jerks up suddenly. Used to the inky blackness of his blindfold, every nerve ending is on full alert. He could swear he just felt a light tickle on the underside of his balls; just enough to make his balls twitch. Was it something? Was his mind beginning to fabricate things? With his nerves stretched to the limit, Paul could not be sure he didn't imagine it. Not knowing... that was the thing. Hearing nothing, a whimper escaped his lips. This meeting is far exceeding his expectations. Paul mentally took his hat off to her. He hadn't been so tormented, so frightened yet so aroused ever before.