The sun was slipping toward the western horizon by the time we made it to the cottage. Our route had taken us a long way out of the city, along winding country roads, up into the wild hills. From there, we had reached the single-track road which followed the shores of the lake for a further dozen miles, before it turned into an almost-impassable track. Half a mile of thick forest rolled past, until the ancient, wooden cottage came into sight. It's broad, heavy eaves seemed to press the entire construction into the soft earth. I pulled up next to the aged porch, and turned off the ignition.

Catherine was my first true slave, a gorgeous nineteen-year-old brunette with delectable rosebud lips and a curvy, wanton figure that would make any sane man look twice. She was married to a dumbass former jock who had left his popularity behind in high school and tried to replace it with cheap booze and cheaper hookers. I'd been fucking her on and off for a couple of months, following a chance meeting in my local branch of Starbucks and a long, hot afternoon of passionate sex in my apartment. Since that first "date", we had met up at least once a week for a session of hot, illicit sex - sex which I found not only exciting, but dangerously addictive.

This weekend, however, was different to our usual routine. Catherine's loser husband was away on "business" - actually, I knew from a mutual friend that he was holed up in a seedy motel with a pair of hookers called Chantelle and Chardonnay, but who was I to judge? - and Catherine had agreed to a romantic getaway at my secluded cottage, high up in the hills. We left early on the Saturday morning, enjoyed a long, leisurely lunch at a roadside cafe, and drove up into the mountains accompanied by a selection of Catherine's favourite CDs.

Catherine leaped out of the car and ran up the gravel path to the front door as I wrestled our pair of large bags from the back seat and followed after her. Reaching the weathered wooden porch, I dropped the bags, fished the key from my pocket, and unlocked the door. Eagerly, Catherine pushed past me, only to stop dead in the doorway as she beheld the room beyond. It had taken me two weeks of concerted effort to get the cottage the way I wanted it. Gone was the rural, folksy decor - in its place was a large circular bed, right in the center of the room. Behind it, dimly illuminated in the late afternoon sun, was a large mahogany rack holding a large number of strange and terrible devices, none of which, I was sure, Catherine would recognise. The windows were heavily curtained in black and blood-red material, giving the once-rustic cabin the appearance of a brooding satanic chapel.

"Danny? What the hell... ?" she asked, taking a little half-step backwards.

"Oh, didn't I mention it, sweetie?" I asked with a cruel smile. "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you this weekend. I'm going to ruin you for that limp-dick husband of yours. You're going to walk out of here a cum-sucking slut - or you're not going to walk out at all." She blinked at me, not certain whether to believe me or not. "Get the fuck inside," I snarled, grabbing her arm forcefully. "I didn't take you up here to stand out in the fucking forest."

"Why are you doing this?" Catherine asked, her lower lip trembling.

I made a show of considering her question. "Why? I'm doing this because it's time you surrendered to your true nature, Catherine. It's time you learned to obey your man, your master; it's time you learned that you are nothing more than a dirty little slut."

"Stop calling me that!" Catherine protested.

I grinned, and my hands closed around her upper arms. I've always been a big guy, and regular trips to a expensive uptown gym kept me in fighting trim. Catherine - tiny, delicate Catherine - was no match for me. I half-pushed, half-carried her through the door, into the cottage's gloomy interior, kicking the door closed behind me. The bags could wait on the porch until we were ready to leave, for all I cared - I had more important things to attend to. In the almost-total darkness, I pulled Catherine hard against my body and kissed her. She responded eagerly, her tongue slipping into my mouth, hot and insistent. After a moment, I broke the kiss, and regarded her coolly. "You're obviously ready for some fun." I ran my fingertips along her jawline, down her throat, and hooked two fingers into the top of her V-necked T-shirt. Without warning, I grinned and tore the fabric from her body, drawing an alarmed gasp from her - a gasp which stalled on her lips when she saw my expression. Without a word, I threw the tattered rag of her T-shirt on the floor, then slipped my fingers into the straps of her bra and, with a savage twist on my wrists, tore it from her body, leaving red, angry marks across her shoulder. Her smooth, unblemished skin of her beautiful C-cup breasts gleamed in the half-light. I dropped my head to them immediately, sucking the bullet-hard buds of her nipples into my mouth, nibbling and lashing them with my tongue. My hands worked on her tits, squeezing the hot, heavy flesh, until she moaned sexily. I straightened, and looked at her coldly, as if she had done something terribly wrong.

"Take off your wedding ring," I ordered her.

"Oh, Danny, you know I can't just -"

"Take it off," I repeated darkly. "It symbolises your bond to that useless fuck-wit you married. That bond no longer exists. I have a new ring for you."

"You do?" she said, her eyes bright. Catherine had always loved jewellery, and the thought of a gift was enough to make her pull off the cheap gold band her husband had slipped on her finger the year before. "Are you happy now?" she replied impudently, then stepped backward as I snarled at her.

"You'll know when I'm happy, slut. Close your eyes," I said, pulling a slender package from my pocket.

She obeyed, extending her hand in an elegant gesture. I opened the package and withdrew a delicate silver cylinder, a fragile and ingenious mechanism I had purchased over the internet from a specialist company in Japan. The inside of the cylinder was lined with tiny, jagged teeth, each so small that they were difficult o see with the naked eye. A tiny screw on the side of the cylinder controlled how extended the teeth were - for the moment, then were almost perfectly flat against the cold silver surface. I leaned forward, grasping Catherine's right tit, and slipped the ring over the nipple. She opened her eyes, obviously wondering what the hell I was doing, but I twisted the screw, causing the tiny silver teeth to bite into her hard nipple. She cried out in pain and surprise, and tried to step back, but I simply tightened my grip on her beast. "You belong to me, now. If you take the ring off without my permission, I'll give you another one to wear on your clit. Are we clear?"

"Danny, I don't like this!" Catherine protested, gritting her teeth at the sharp pain.

"You don't like it? What makes you think I give a fuck what you like, you worthless little cum-slut?"

She bit her lip and shook her head, wisely choosing not to reply to my challenge. I gripped her wrists and pulled her over toward the bed. She didn't struggle as I unbuttoned her tight blue jeans and pulled the down over her thighs, nor when I pushed her onto the bed and tugged the jeans off completely, leaving her only in a pair of black, lacy hotpants so tight that the lips of her pussy were clearly defined. Deciding, for the moment, to leave the panties in place, I dragged Catherine back to the edge of the bed, and bent her over, her legs splayed wide, her feet on the floor, her toes curling in the thick, luxurious rug.

"Such a nice ass," I said softly, moving around behind her and running my fingers roughly over her body. "Such a smackable, fuckable little ass. It gets you a lot of attention, doesn't it?" Catherine shook her head, but a sharp slap to her pert cheeks changed her mind. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she nodded. "I'll bet it does. And you love it, don't you slut, you love the attention? You love flaunting your body at men, making them want you, driving them crazy?" Helpless and humiliated, Catherine nodded reluctantly. "You were born a slut," I say, walking around your vulnerable, trembling body. "I bet you were sucking cocks all day long at school, weren't you? All the boys - the teachers too, I bet. You sucked them, didn't you, slut? You begged them to dribble their sticky cum on your lips, didn't you? Didn't you, slut?"

"No!" Catherine gasped in shame, but I responded with another stinging slap to her ass.

"You did," I reply. "I know you better than you know yourself. You got on your knees and begged like a spoiled little kid. What did you say, you little slut? What did you say to make your teachers stick their fat, wrinkled cocks in your hot little mouth?" Catherine shook her head, and I slapped her again. Beneath the tight, sexy lace of her black panties, her flesh was red and angry. "What did you say?" I insisted. "Tell me, or I'll make you fucking bleed."