Chapter 1

Claire and I had been friends for ages. We both seemed to know that at sometime in the future we would be lovers. It was one of those friendships where you know each others' mates and go to the same parties but just never sort of get together. Claire seemed to be really sad at this party and being of a group of people who always have a laugh she stood out in her desolation. 


"What's wrong?" I asked sitting beside her on the middle step.

She looked up from her thoughts and smiled a sad little smile.

"My grandma died and I have to go to the house and decide what to do with it. She has left it to me in her will, but I have no way of getting there."

It was the chance I'd been looking for. `Thank you god,' I thought and then scolded myself.

"I will take you if you would like to go this weekend." She looked at me and half smiled and I held down the desire to hug her.

"Would you? It would take a lot of worry off me. She's been dead for several weeks and I really must go see to the place and I would like some company."

"No problem; where did she live?" Masham was the answer and I worked out that it would take a couple of hours maybe more. We arranged a time for Saturday and as she didn't really feel like staying at the party I walked her home.

Saturday

It was Saturday morning, very early and Claire had dressed sensibly. I  noticed as I looked at her as I drew up hoping that she was impressed by my new car, Claire is about 22 and tall. She isn't thin but not fat either. Her hair is long and ginger and the most startling thing about her is her eyes. They are bright blue with a glint in them of trouble. 

We stopped and had a McDonald's breakfast near Goole her treat as I was driving her. On the way up the A1 Claire told me about her gran and granddad. They sounded like nice people. It turned out that Claire used to stay with them over the summer holidays and at Christmas when her Parents were away on business. 

Finding the house took a bit as my guide never had to find it before as her granddad always brought her. So we actually missed the lane. Drawing the car down the long rough track towards the house I was struck by the sombreness of the house. It looked like one out of an old B-movie: tall, three floored and a loft gabled windows. Its sandstone walls were blackened with age. And it was surrounded by lots of out buildings and a stable block. The grass needed cutting and the gardens needed weeding, although the place looked rundown I suspected that it wouldn't take much to get it back to scratch.

Looking at my companion I saw a little quiver at the corner of her mouth she was about to cry so a  squeeze to her hand. She smiled a sad smile.

"Come on then," I said and pulled her out of her remembrances.

She looked up nodded and moved off up to the house. 

The curtains were all closed as is the tradition up here, that no dead person should be able to see into a house as the funeral procession passes. The keys were shaking too much to hit the lock so I eased them out of Claire's hand and opened the door. It swung on well-oiled hinges. Claire stepped in and turned the light on and sighed with relief. I put my hand in hers and said, "I am here for you." She nodded and we walked inside. 

The house interior was a complex mix of old Victorian and 20th century: a huge kitchen with all new-style gas oven and hob; and old copper pans hanging from a rack. I picked up the metal kettle and we both started at the loud sound of the water as I filled it. Claire lit the gas and I smiled at her. 

"You make the coffee and I will go open the curtains," she said as she disappeared out of the room. 

Going back to the car to fetch the coffee and milk we'd bought at a local Spar just down the road I saw Claire looking out of the window and again I was struck by her beauty. She saw me and waved. I waved back. The house was slightly warmer as I entered and I heard the central heating clicking and creaking. Pouring us both a coffee I sat and looked around the kitchen. 

It was nicely decorated. And there were photos of a couple both gradually getting older on a Welsh dresser on the far wall. Grandma was a stunner. In the earlier photos you couldn't see the colour of her hair due to being old black and white type. But in a later one you see that her hair was the same colour as Claire's.

`Claire seems to have inherited gran's looks as well,' I thought.
She looked at me and I smiled at her. "You okay now?"

She grinned, "Yes thanks. I loved my grandparents; they had such a zest for life."

"I'll go see if there is a grass cutter and cut the grass if you want a bit of time on your own. I'll just be outside if you need me."

Claire nodded, "Thanks."

I finished my drink and wandered outside. The sun was now out and the house looked so much better with the curtains open. 

In the shed I found a mini tractor. `Oh ace,' I thought. I'd always wanted to drive one of these. Mind you when I saw the size of the back lawn I got the feeling I would be gone for some time. Still it was fun as I started the tractor and worked out how to use the attached cutters. It was about dinnertime when I saw Claire waving to me to come to the house.

"You must be hungry," she said as I walked into the kitchen.
I smelled hot soup.

"Gran has a huge freezer out in the old coal house," Claire told me as I sat at the table.

"Thanks for cutting the grass Chris."

I smiled and replied, "No problem."

"Chris, I'm going to have to stay here tonight. Can you stay too?"
"Well I haven't made any plans so yes of course I can." 

To be honest it was my desire to spend any time with her. And I had hoped to stay anyway. I continued to do the garden; actually enjoying it. The tractor made it easy. The weeding was done with a flame gun so although it was probably the hardest day's work I'd done for a while it wasn't that bad. 

Claire had cooked a nice tea using gran's frozen home made stew and rice.

"There's enough food for a year in there," she said pointing to the coal house.

"Oh Mon Cherie, moi and vous all alonge," I said in an awful French voice.

Claire smiled and laughed, "Idiot!"

"How's it going?" I asked as she looked sombre again.

"Oh not too bad. I spent the day looking at paperwork and not much else really."

Looking out through the window I saw the rain clouds rolling in over the hill tops. "This house has some beautiful views. I could live here."
 
Claire looked at me and asked, "Is that a proposal Mr. Darcey?"

I laughed, "It is a bit Bronte-ish isn't it?"

Claire asked me to light a fire and said that we would have a look at a huge chest of photos she'd found.

"Can I have a look around?" She nodded and while she washed up I light a fire and then had a wander.

The house was built on three levels and there should have been a cellar but I couldn't find a way in. The loft was clean, tidy and very warm. There were three radiators and the chimney breast ran through it. And the views, oh man, were they spectacular!

I heard Claire shout so I wandered back to what should have been the master bedroom. I stood agog. The bed was huge - a four-poster. The canopy was made of a hardwood frame and a lovely cover. Claire saw my astonishment and laughed, "We Devlin's are a lusty lot."

"God you must be! The bed is six feet square!"

"Could you help me down with this?" She pointed to a huge trunk. It was full of photo albums and loose photos. 

We struggled down the stairs with it and into the lovely old-style sitting room. Old leather armchairs, a chaise lounge and the log fire I had lit earlier greeted us. Claire pulled her jumper over her head. And I admired her body while catching a glimpse of smooth tummy as her tee-shirt went up with it. She caught my glance and smiled coyly. 

We opened a bottle of wine from her granddad's stock and sat next to each other on the floor. The albums showed granddad as a tall handsome man and gran as a beautiful young girl. They went through the ages until Claire said that one of the photos was the last one taken of him.

"How long before she followed him?" I asked.

"Not long, about five months."

Claire looked at the trunk. "Chris, this trunk seems smaller on the inside than the out..."

I looked and she was right. I wondered... 

I ran a hand along the bottom and found a catch. It clicked and a lid opened. Inside were as many photo albums as there were on the top level. These though had little locks on the covers and were bound in leather. There was beautiful craftsmanship on these albums. I looked at Claire she looked at me and I smiled back at her.

"Er, they might not want you to see these."

She giggled, "Do you think they are nude photos of gran then?" I noticed that the wine had gone to her head.

"Could be but if they are there sure are a hell of a lot of them," I replied.

"Shall we have a look then?" she giggled again. 

I paused and looked at her, torn between wanting to look for gran was a looker, and the fact that I believed that they would be stronger than simple nude ones. Well who does twenty volumes of one woman? 

Claire ran upstairs and came down with a key ring. "This was in gran's undie drawer. She has a lot of old-type stockings and corsets," she giggled.

I smiled at this drunken person who was at last cheering up a little; funny how alcohol can do that.

"This doesn't seem a little ghoulish does it?" I asked.

She thought about that one. "No because gran knew I was to inherit this place and if she was bothered she would have burnt anything that worried her."

I looked at a photo of the old departed couple and smiled. I thought they could be spicy as the old boy looked like a bit of a rogue.
How old was your gran?

"Sixty-three, she was a wild child of the late fifties and early sixties. She met granddad at 16 and he came from a wealthy family. When mum died they looked after me and sent me to boarding school and camps and holidays. I had a good time here."

Claire fit a key into the first volume it opened with a click.
She looked at me for reassurance. I smiled and said, "It's up to you."

Claire turned the first page.

"It's gran!"

She was dressed in a short flowery skirt of the fifties. The picture was black and white. Its style was very professional. Her eyes sparkled as she held a box in her hands.

"Phew your gran didn't half look like you," I said Claire nodded while trying to read what it said on the box.

She turned the next page.

"Oh my god," she uttered. Granddad had stepped into the shot and was helping gran fit a steel collar around her neck...

"That's quite thick for a necklace," Claire said and suddenly coloured up. "Oh shit! It's not, is it?" 

It seemed that ace granddad and grandma were kinky. `YES!!!' my mind shouted as the next photo showed grandma wearing handcuffs and ankle irons all linked to the collar and a chain around her waist. She looked so horny that I had to shift my erection that had grown inside my trousers. 

Claire looked at me, "Oh god, I never knew."

"Do you want to look at these by yourself?" I asked, hoping that she didn't.

"Please stay; I don't know if I can face what's to come."

`Me!' I thought if they get any hornier. She looked at me and I said, "We can stop now and you will never know." 

Claire looked down at the photo on the next page. Gran had wandered after granddad. Well she did not have much choice really as he'd attached a lead to the collar. The time elapse photos showed her walking after him. The next page held two photos: one a back view and the other the front. 

I looked at the back one first. She was wearing a tightly laced corset. Her collar had been changed to a leather one that covered the whole neck and held her head up and even attached to her earrings. This I realized was to stop her from turning her head at all. Both wrists had been strapped up between her shoulder blades by cuffs attached to a strap from the back of her collar. Gran's buttocks looked superb.

Claire had huge wide eyes and I realized she was looking at the front shot. Gran's breasts were on display as if on a shop counter. A ledge held them out and up; both nipples seemed to be erect. The high heels she wore made her legs look super.

"Oh Chris look! Her shoes are even locked on!" She was right. Little padlocks were locked onto the straps around her ankles.

We both turned the page and this one showed her husband easing a huge ball behind her teeth.

"Look how thin the corset makes her," Claire pointed out. To be honest the things I was looking at were her breasts. Wow! 

The next set showed gran straddling a thin wooden bar; her legs apart and balancing on wooden blocks. Granddad had attached a rope that ran up to the ceiling from her collar. This held her upright; two ropes one from each ankle to rings set out on the floor provided the anchor. Claire turned the page and winced. Gran's whole body weight was resting on her pussy. The bar was thin enough that her lips enfolded it. 

"God that must have hurt," Claire said; but the next photo showed gran with her eyes sparkling as granddad pulled her forward with a rope he'd fastened to the front of her collar and pulled her forward until her clit was trapped between pole and pubic bone.

The rest of the album showed gran tied to the pole in different ways and ended with granddad rogering her over the pole.

Claire looked over at me, "Shit, Chris."

"Yes quite a shocker isn't it." Thinking, `Wow, I have died and gone to porno heaven.'

She smiled that smile again.

I poured her some more wine.

"Well what do you think?" she asked.

"Truthfully I think your gran was superb looking. It seemed to be a mutual thing she seemed to enjoy it so what the hell. Who am I to judge?"

She looked at me again, "So you're not shocked then?"

"No your gran was as beautiful as you are now. The whole thing was done between them so what the hell..." I studied her and noticed that her nipples were straining against the white cotton of her tee-shirt. Cold, shock or just turned-on I wouldn't like to say.

`So do we burn them or carry on looking?" she asked.

I looked at her, "Your choice babes - she is your gran."

Claire grinned, reached between my legs and patted my erection. "Well this gives me a clue!" She picked up another one, fit the key and presto.

Gran was now maybe 40 and naked. Her breasts were slightly saggier, carrying a little more weight but still very beautiful. She was tied using rope and thin harsh string that made her breasts stand out and also made deep indentations in her flesh.

The photo albums showed gran tied tight. It moved from room to room and showed her tied to chairs and walls. But then the next one made us jump.

She was tied to the very table we were sitting against, legs at 90 degrees, a huge cucumber in her pussy and a carrot up her anus. Her head was dangling over the edge and gramps was thrusting his long thick dick all the way down her throat. A close-up showed his balls hitting her eyelids, the size of his weapon distending her throat.
"Deep throat," I whispered in awe.

Claire shuddered, "I will never eat cucumbers without this picture in my mind."

I grinned at her; she was taking this better than I thought she would.

"Let's have a tour using this book. There are things that are just here for bondage." We saw plants that hung from hooks and rings. Gran was tied to them. I pulled hard on one. It took my weight without even a squeak. We moved to the stairway up towards the top of the three stories. I turned the page of this bondage guidebook.

"Er, you don't want to see this."

I held the book above her head

"Show me!"

Claire took the book off me and I looked over her shoulder.

Gran was standing on the banister rail; over the three-floor drop. Her tied arms were crushed together at wrist and elbow, legs tied tight at ankle and knee. The scary things were the nooses around her breasts and neck. Gran's high-heeled shoes made her balancing act harder.

Claire climbed up and stood on the rail. She wavered and I had to pull her back. She hugged me hard.

"Oh god Chris! Shit this is so weird. Granddad was a judge and a doctor. Gran loved him so much. I never suspected them of this."
Gran was shown actually hanging from her breasts in the next photo as granddad lowered her to the ground floor. I realized that someone else must have taken this photo; but decided not to mention it. Claire looked at me a little funny. I held out my hand and she took it. We went down the stairs back into the kitchen.

The next book showed gran tied up and placed in a desk. Her head was the only thing showing. The next photos took a bit of working out. I let out a laugh. "Claire, it's inside the desk. Look, gran is tied up on her knees and there are her breasts attached to two clamps that run up in to the roof of the desk."

We went over to the desk in the study. Claire moved the globe of the world. There was a lid but we were unable to take it out. It took us a while to work out how to open it up. The whole desk opened out on casters. The lid then slid out.

Claire looked at me as I turned the two pens that were locked in the holders, these controlled the clamps.

"Lock me in this." 

I looked at her as she slid in and placed her neck in the hole. I shut the front part onto the non-moving back bit. Claire's head was the only thing showing. She grinned. I looked at the positioning; it placed her mouth near the edge. 

Claire sensed this, "Granddad was a clever old boy wasn't he?"
I pulled the desk open and let her out. "How did it feel?"

"Scary. I think that gran was very brave and it must have been very hard on her legs." 

The rest of the album got better. The whole house was rigged for her suffering. The small larder, the loft room window, all came equipped with lashing points. Gran was outside. Tied from trees etc. and then came a scary one, even for me. She was spread eagle on the lawn.

A crepe bandage totally covered her head. She was wearing rubber knickers with a bulge at the crotch that Claire pointed out it must have been a huge dildo. George was smearing her nipples and breasts with a thick substance. The photo following showed her breasts covered with thousands of ants and insects.

Claire shuddered, "Want a cup of tea?" 

I nodded and she moved to the hob. She looked a little shell-shocked. Do you blame her? I didn't.

The next album showed a younger gran in a torture chamber: wooden racks and a lot of different things. Granddad was getting good at carpentry.

Claire looked the photos. "There must be a cellar or something. Can we look?" 

So we begin the search. It took an age, we were both getting excited. And I don't know why. The search was very exacting; it took us an hour to find the entrance. Claire was in the cupboard under the stairs and let out a yip of excitement. I looked around the door to find her trying keys in a huge padlock. There was a layer of hardboard under the carpet that hid its shape. The lock gave way and we looked into the abyss of darkness. 

Claire disappeared into the dark and I heard her say, "Here we go," as a light snapped on at the base of a passageway at the bottom of the stairs.

Walking down them I realized that they were wide and shallow as if to make it easy to go down them hindered by bonds.

"Oh my god," I heard from further up the passageway. I jogged a good fifty feet. Claire had walked past all the closed doors to the very end one. It had two parts. One was a stable, the other a torture chamber complete with gallows, rack, iron maiden all those sort of old film props.

We wandered around and examined the different wooden items. Claire's eyes were wide as she pulled the lever to drop the trap on the gallows.

"For the love of god why would you build this?" she asked looking very scared.

"Well your gran was still here so it didn't work or they used something else..."

"You don't think they used someone else do you?" she looked really scared now.

"No I don't think they were murders as we would have seen some photos - unless they hid them somewhere." 

We wandered out of this room. It effectively had provided a cold shower to our mutual voyeurism. I opened the first door on the way back from the end room. It was a cell, a plain cell with a wooden bed with an old mattress on it. I walked over and patted it with my hand. "It's straw. They seemed to be creating a fantasy of sorts."
"What do you mean?"

"Well they used to fill old mattresses with straw in the early part of the last century. Look on the walls. There are manacles like you find in the old castles and prisons."

We closed that door and walked to the next. This was a weird room as it had a lot of collars and strange devices. I thought it odd because they used magnets to hold them in place. 

The next two rooms were storerooms. "We'll look at these soon."

Claire seemed bewitched by the cell-block. Next was a Nazi torture centre where electrodes and clamps adorned a table. A chair was the centrepiece. Metal rings and leather straps attached to it gave it an evil air.

Claire shuddered. I looked very closely; it all seemed to work. 

The last room contained a lot of wooden boxes. They ranged from coffin-size to a tea chest. Opening the coffin I saw that it was full of form fitting foam and straps. The tea chest was fitted with a lid with a hole. Neck sized. I looked at Claire and she looked at me. "Do you think you could get in there?" 

"Tied up and properly stuffed full of plastic or rubber," she grinned at me, "as gran would have been?"

I smiled at her, "Why, are you offering to give it a go?"

She blushed, "Kidding...I think"  she half laughs as if trying to kid herself and she looks at me funny?

I was and I wasn't; and we both knew it. She blushed deeper and we both smiled at each other.

"Shall we go look in the storerooms?" she asked putting brakes on the moment.

I followed her out and back down the corridor. I wondered about the fact that something was changing between us and also about how warm it was down here. It was then that I noticed radiators and a strange type of hole in the walls: vents for central heating. You had to admire Gramp's. He didn't do things by halves. The cellar had to go out under the out buildings. The place was like an iceberg with very little on top compared to what was underneath. 

The first storeroom held coils of rope, chains and in cupboards lots of leather belts, hoods, harnesses, nipple clamps and lots of different gags. I watched as Claire handled the harnesses and things. A door to a sub basement revealed a workshop. In the centre of it was a chair. Two gleaming black rubber dildos were mounted on the seat and a pair of bars attached to ratchets swung around to clamp the breasts between them a long set of straps hung from the arms and legs  and the back of the chair. Once strapped the person wouldn't be moving.

"George was still working on this when he died then," Claire noted.
Claire was bending down running her hands over the prongs with a strange look in her eye. It was very sturdily made. The timber was thick and well locked together. We looked around the workshop and found lots of drawings and photos. Claire remarked that there must be more rooms around. There were a hell of a lot of photos with gran strapped to different devices. 

The whole cellar area was very well built. I know, being from a family of builders, so it was the bloody work of a master builder. Looking around at the way the doors were fitted I realized that once he locked her in there was no way out. 

Claire wandered over to the other side of the corridor and we looked at the next storeroom. It held more of the same and a door that led to a dark room and a huge storage cupboard. In here were lots of clothes and uniforms. And a pile of video tapes. The uniforms varied from Nazi to Roman, and the female clothing was victim-related: French maid, French resistance worker, old Christian maiden, etc., etc. 

Claire let out a yip, she'd placed a video in the player and her gran was shown being stripped by two Nazi officers. Her clothes were ripped from her body. One of the men was George, her granddad. I pointed to the other, "You know him?" She looked closely and I realized that gran looked mid-thirties. 

So I presumed that A, they have filmed it some other old way and changed it to video, and B, it was before Claire's time so she didn't know the other participant.

She looked at the other masked man. "No I have no idea." Gran was being gently slapped around a bit. It was well done but as I work in TV I knew what to look for. It was being performed to perfection; her acting was superb. 

But the torture scenes that followed were real enough. The electroshocks actually included the spark from electrode to nipple. Gran was enjoying her role. No word of a lie. Even Claire gathered that. In fact gran orgasmed twice as the questioning continued.

Claire looked shocked, "What the hell is all this about?" She shook her head. The film continued and ended with a mock hanging scene.

The film was very well done and it finished with actual credits.

"That seems to be a commercially-made film," I said running the film right back to the beginning. The credits were done in German and French. I could only think that gran and granddad had found a market for these sorts of films. There were a lot of lockers full of films. We continued our tour of the cellars and found the editing room and a huge darkroom. A computer sat on a desk in the corner. 

Claire sat down behind it and opened it up. "Password needed," she found it saying. She tried her mother's name. 

There were thousands of names in many countries: a client list. Also there were hundreds of emails unanswered. Claire opened one; it contained an order for two videos. She was really shocked. It threw her and so I took her hand and led her upstairs. 

"We both need a brandy." She nodded and sat down at the kitchen table.

"Did the solicitor say anything about this or do you a copy of the will with you?" 

She nodded and went to her rucksack. Pulling out a brown envelope she unfolded it and we sat and studied the contents. 

"There at the bottom," I pointed out a bit that said something about a business venture in the name of her grandma's maiden name. The holdings were all now in Euro's. I got my mobile out and converted them to pounds. Claire blanched as I showed her the amount. 

"Fucking hell," she gasped.

"And you thought that you would have to sell the house didn't you?"
"Yes, but Chris this is living off immoral earnings isn't it?"
"Well your granddad was a judge wasn't he?"

"Yes but how did they do it?" Claire was flummoxed, her eyes wide.
We sipped the brandy. `What the hell do we do about it?" I wondered myself. 

As only a friend of Claire's I didn't see a way to do anything. We both were tired. And I said as much to Claire. She agreed and we both decided to go to bed. I showered and slipped under the duvet in the spare room. But not before I sneaked one of the photo albums upstairs. Yes, okay I admit it; I used it for my own sexual gratification. Sliding it under the bed I slipped into a weird dream world. This dream starred Claire in the position I had just wanked over. 

The photo showed gran on all fours; doggy style, her wrists locked into a pair of horizontal stocks. A noose from the ring on the roof around her neck held her neck in position and one from the floor stopped her from lifting her neck. Her waist was strapped to a sliding block. Her ankles were in stocks but wide-spread. Both her nipples where clamped and cords from the clamps went down to a ring set into the floor and these pulled her breasts into cones. George then attached a block with two dildos behind her and inserted them halfway in. 

The next series of photos showed him kneeling in front of her and placing a ring gag in her mouth. Into this he thrust a huge erection, and then using a long riding crop he began to whip her arse. This made her shoot forward onto this cock and back onto the dildos so she could breathe. You had to admire his inventiveness. Well I thought so anyway. 

It must be about 2:00 AM when I heard my door open and I felt a body slide into bed. "Hi," I whispered.

"Hi. Do you mind? I feel a bit scared and a lot confused, also I need company." Claire's voice sounded a little scared I must admit.

"So do want to talk about it?"

She snuggled into my back placing her arm over my waist. "No can we just snuggle tonight?"

I nodded and soon her breathing dropped to sleep rhythm.

I soon followed nervous of what tomorrow would bring.



to be continued... 


(story continues from I Married a Sex Slave)
 

Part 2: Domestic Bliss

It was Saturday morning, several months after my wife Connie had made her startling sexual confession to me – in which she wanted to be my sex slave in addition to being my spouse. In the intervening time, she had shown me what was necessary for me to be her Master. I had learned how to place her in bondage; discipline her (for offenses real and imagined); use her sexually (I was still a little leery of anal sex – but she seemed to enjoy it); and always find new ways of keeping her sexually stimulated.

Seated in the den, I was finishing off the NY Times, which was spread over the coffee table. Under the paper was a riding crop, which I could use on Connie at any time.

While I was reading the paper and drinking coffee (which Connie had served) Connie was doing the housework. Previously (that is, pre-slavery) she would do housework in a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. Now she was wearing her Maid’s outfit, complete with collar and bondage bracelets on her wrists and ankles. Since wearing five-inch high heels can be a precarious situation on carpet, she only wore two-inch heels while doing housework. I didn’t want her breaking an ankle for the sake of a scene. The skyscraper heels could wait for either the bedroom or the playroom – when we were doing a scene. Lastly, I had buckled a dildo harness around her waist and across her thighs – Connie was therefore constantly sexually flushed and excited from the shaft within her wet sex.

Watching Connie at work, sometimes shuddering from an orgasm, I remembered a comment from my father, of all things.

They had gotten divorced when I was a teenager, and I bounced from one parent to another. But I never asked the reason for the divorce.
Finally, the day before my wedding, Dad took me aside and offered, “Sam, would you like to know why your Mom and I divorced?”

“Ah – yes,” I answered, surprised by my father’s sudden openness.

“Son, you’re getting married, and that’s the most wonderful thing that a man can do. But there’s one thing that you have to always remember – you have to be attentive to your wife.”

“Yes,” I replied, for lack of anything else to say.


“Sam, I thought that I was doing a man’s job by going out and earning a living. I worked long hours for the company, took on every tough assignment, traveled whenever and wherever they needed me. What did that get me? My wife became a stranger to me – and a divorce. Son, remember this – you have always got to be attentive to your wife’s needs – else just like a man – they will look elsewhere for companionship and sex.”

“Thanks Dad,” I answered.

I wonder what my father would think of me now. My wife in chains, subject to my every command, and her skin striped from the crop and my whip. Well, at least Dad couldn’t say that I wasn’t attending to her needs.

Just what is a normal guy supposed to do if his wife wants to be a slave?

Ding, Dong! Ding, Dong!

“It’s the doorbell, Connie, I’ll get it,” I shouted over the hum of the vacuum cleaner.

Rising from the couch I walked over to the front door, and through the vertical blinds I saw that her sister’s car was in the driveway.
“Its Sarah,” I said aloud.

“She wasn’t supposed to come over until later!” said Connie, “how am I going to explain this?”

“Here’s the keys to all of your locks – undress in the bedroom and make yourself normal again,” I said, pressing the key chain into her hand.

“Yes, Master!” answered Connie as she sped off into the bedroom to change.

Ding, Dong! Ding, Dong!

I raced over to the front door, and opened it to admit Sarah, Connie’s older sister. Sarah and Connie may have been sisters, but they were two completely different people. Connie was liberal, eager to try new things. Sarah was conservative, and wholly unimaginative.
“Hi, Sarah,” I greeted her, helping her with some packages that she had brought over for Connie.

“Hi Sam,” she answered.

I helped her inside, and we placed the packages in the foyer. I took her coat and hung it in the hall closet, and invited her into the house.
“I’m sorry to come over so early, but something suddenly came up and I was in the area, so I thought I’d just drop off the stuff and be on my way.”
“That’s fine,” I answered, “have a seat.”
Sarah seated herself in one of the den’s chairs, across from the couch.
“Connie is changing in the bedroom – she spilled something while cleaning up,” I excused my wife’s absence.
“So how are you two doing?” asked Sarah, “George and I haven’t seen too much of you lately.”
“Getting along just fine,” I answered.
The truth was that Connie and I found her sister and her husband both to be deadly bores – to be kept at arms length. Else George would chatter on about his job for what seemed like hours, and Sarah would have to recite every little insignificant detail about her life to us. I would sometimes call them bore and double bore – and Connie would agree with me totally.
“Hi Sis!” greeted Connie as she joined us in the Den.
“Hello, Connie. Sorry to drop in unexpectedly but as I was saying to Sam, I was in the neighborhood.”
“That OK,” Connie answered as she seated herself on the couch next to me.
Connie had changed into a sports shirt, blue jeans and sneakers. Just a few moments ago, well….
“So when are you two lovebirds going to have some kids?” Sarah asked.
“Who knows?” I answered, “maybe someday.”
“Tell me, Connie,” Sarah began, “When did you start playing bondage games again?”
“What?” Connie replied, shocked, “How did you know?”
In the months since Connie had become a sex slave, we had met with Sarah and her husband a few times, always at their house, and given no hint about our changed marital roles.
“How did you know?” demanded Connie.
“There’s a riding crop peeking out from under the paper,” Sarah answered.
She reached over, and picked it up, flexing it between her hands.
“I thought that you had gotten over this – after that other guy died, and you married Sam, who appeared to be normal. At least until now,” she acidly commented.
“For your information, it was me who started doing bondage again,” Connie answered, “and our sexuality is none of your business.”
“Just what I need, the excuses of a sex pervert,” Sarah answered.
“And what about your sexuality, Sis?” Connie enquired, “you just lay in bed with your legs open and let George do all the work – it’s a wonder that you both manage to stay awake during sex!”
“You’ve always been jealous of me sexually,” Sarah replied, “at least I’m not a pervert who has to wear funny clothes and get tied up to get my jollies.”
And I thought that it was only brothers who fought! There’s nothing stranger than hearing two sisters fight it our over their sexuality.
“When was the last time that you had an orgasm, Sis? Maybe you need one of my vibrators to come!”
“Now that’s enough!” I said, stopping them both, “Sarah, what we do in our own home is our business, not yours. It’s evident that you two have issues that date far back. So lets calm down and relax – this isn’t a men’s locker room.”
“Fine with me, I’m just leaving,” said Sarah as she rose from her chair, “I’ll let myself out and let you two perverts alone.”
Sarah walked angrily over to the closet, put on her coat, and left, slightly slamming the door behind her with a small bang.
“Grrrrr!” said Connie, “she just gets me so mad sometimes – her and her moral preaching.”
“I take it she didn’t like your past sexual activities?”
“One day she came to my apartment, and I had forgotten to put away some of my bondage porn and toys – after that, she always called me a pervert,” concluded Connie.
“Well, nothing’s going to change her mind,” I observed.
At that moment, the mail door opened and some letters fell onto the floor.
“Pity we don’t have Thing to get the mail,” I said, rising from my seat.
“Thing?”
“Addams Family,” I answered.
“Oh.”
“Look honey,” I said, returning from the foyer as I opened a brown envelope, “our tax refund check for $500! Bush said that this will stimulate the economy.”
“Yeah, and produce big deficits later!” Connie answered.
“What shall we do?” I asked, “save it or spend it?”
“Actually, Master, I have a few additional toys in mind that we could purchase to improve our sex play.”
“Okay,” I answered, “what do you have in mind?”
“Back in a minute, Master,” said Connie.
“I got these off the net from a sex shop in NYC – these things will really enhance our sex play,” Connie opened a manila folder and produced some photographs.
“This is an armbinder, once I’m in this, I’m totally helpless,” said Connie, “and this is a ball-gag trainer, note the chin straps and those over the head. We don’t have any leg irons, and there is nothing like the feeling of being hobbled.”
“Anything else?” I asked.
“Have you ever been to an S&M shop, Master?” Connie asked.
“No, though I passed one in NYC once. Didn’t go in.”
“Just the smell of all that leather, latex, and PVC is enough to make me come from all the memories of the good times that I had,” said Connie.
“Did you like being a slave that much?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” she answered, “there was nothing better than a good scene the night before – even if I had trouble sitting down on a sore bottom for a few days.”
“Yes,” I answered.
Like my father said to me earlier, you have to be attentive to your wife’s needs. Unfortunately, there was nothing in my experience to cover my situation.
* * * * *
“What is your safeword?” I asked.
It was Midnight, and we were down in the Playroom. Connie was naked, and spread-eagled between the two ceiling columns. All she wore was a collar, her bondage bracelets, and a pair of five-inch heels. Like I said before – we reserve those for scenes only.
“Bondage Slut!” Connie answered.
“Kiss the flogger!” I ordered.
Connie kissed the flogger’s handle, and I was hot inside my leather vest, pants and boots. Why is it that fetish clothes looked so good on women, but left men looking like bikers?
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
“Ah!” Connie cried as she tensed against her bonds.
“There is no escape, slave,” I told Connie menacingly, with a hint of melodrama in my voice.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
I observed the way that Connie’s breasts would bounce after every impact of the flogger, which was composed of several strands of suede. It would leave broad red marks, but not break the skin.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
“Ah!!”
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
I kept up a steady rhythm of strokes with the flogger, making sure not to strike in the same area twice. I would first deliver a series of strokes on Connie’s breasts and belly, then her thighs and legs. Next, circling around to her back, I would strike her bottom.
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The only illumination was a lamp turned down low, with a red cloth covering it, making the room a dull red, we imagined it to be wooden torches in a dungeon somewhere.
“Ah!”
I reached between Connie’s legs to her sex, and found that it was sopping wet. Without saying anything else, I then thrust my wet fingers between her lips.
“Lick off your juices, you wanton slut,” I told her.
“Thank you Master!” Connie gasped, panting from her flogging.
I then made her kiss the flogger, and released her. I forced Connie to her knees, and opened my pants, releasing a monster erection.
“Suck your Master’s cock,” I ordered, “Or the flogging will continue!”
Connie enfolded her mouth around my rock hard erection, sucking greedily to bring me to climax. Just for effect, I ran the strands of the flogger over her back in order to stimulate her.
She sucked at my cock like a vacuum cleaner, and it didn’t take long (given that I pretty ready for a climax just from flogging her) for my cock to start pulsing come into Connie’s mouth. I watched as Connie swallowed it all. She had made a big deal out of the idea that a slave can be used by her Master in any way, in any of her “holes.” So she never protested – even when she sucked my cock, or infrequently fucked her up the ass.
“That was very good slave,” I told her, “now I’m going to take you on the rug – so open your legs and raise your bottom!”
“Yes, Master!” Connie instantly obeyed my orders.
I took off my boots, vest, and finally the hot leather pants. Nude, I fucked her on the floor, right there on the carpet.
Just another average weekend in my house.
 
* * * * *

We entered the Fetish Shop in NYC Sunday, the next day. Rather than take the train (my idea) Connie suggested that we drive in and park the car in a garage. So here we were in NYC – shopping for “toys.”
After getting buzzed inside, the first thing that struck me was the aroma of the place. It reminded me of a tire shop, where I used to work in the summer during College.
“This is really great!” said Connie.
“Can I help you with something?” asked the female clerk behind the counter.
“We’ll look around,” Connie answered.
For the past several months, I had been watching Connie’s bondage videotape collection, and we had even bought a few new titles by mail order. That, plus the books I had read, and finally my searching online had prepared me for my first visit to an S&M shop. Looking at all the various items of dress (leather, latex, PVC); bondage devices; and punishment items (riding crops, paddles, and whips) I had a pretty good idea of what to expect behind the blacked out windows and electrically operated front door.
Still, it was a quiet shock to realize that this stuff was actually used on people on the receiving end. Picking up a paddle and striking it against my hand, I realized that I could buy this little toy and have Connie over my knee that night, reddening her bottom. The weird fact was that she would enjoy it – and I was getting to enjoy it – and that was the hardest thing to reconcile.
“Master, what do you think of this?” asked Connie, holding up a set of leg irons.
“Fine, dear,” I answered, “that was on the list, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, Master.”
I suppose that anywhere else but here (or in a S&M club – we hadn’t gone that far just yet) it would be socially acceptable for me to be called Master in public. Suddenly I remembered the early episodes of “I Dream of Jeannie” (the first season was in B&W) where Tony had to keep Jeannie from calling him “Master” in public.
The next hour proved to be one of the strangest shopping experiences in my life. It was one thing to see bondage devices in films or printed out in catalogs – quite another to see them on display. This wasn’t like shopping at Macy’s!
For an hour my wife and I discussed the merits of handcuffs, leg shackles, penis gags, armbinders, and various other toys. Finally, the salesgirl was able to ring up the sale, and I certainly had obeyed the President’s suggestion to spend our tax rebate to stimulate the economy.
We had purchased a leather armbinder; paddle; riding crop; leg shackles; a butt plug; a leather blindfold; gleaming stainless steel handcuffs (two pairs, one with a few more links between the cuffs – Connie said they were for using above her elbows); a rubber bra and two rubber panties (one with rubber dildo); and a couple of new videotapes.
“Well,” I said holding the bag on the way out, “I suppose that the economy won’t be the only thing that gets stimulated by our purchases.”
“Huh?” asked Connie.
“Inside joke.”
“Connie is that you?” asked a woman just entering the shop.
“Barbara – Barbara!” said Connie as she rushed over and gave the woman a big hug, kissing her on the lips.
“Connie, how great to see you again! Where have you been?” she asked.
“Out of the scene for awhile, let me introduce you to my husband, Sam.”
“Hello,” I said cautiously.
“Husband – you got married.”
“Yes, after my Master got killed in a car crash – Sam here swept me off my feet, and I got all normal – until recently, that is.”
“Where are you two off to?” asked Barbara.
“Home, we drove into the city,” I answered.
“I can put off shopping for a few hours, why don’t we have lunch at the diner around the corner? That way Connie and I can catch up on old times,” suggested Barbara.
“Sure,” I answered.

* * * * *

The three of us were seated at a booth together. I had ordered a burger, Connie a salad, and Barbara a grilled cheese.
“Do you remember the time,” Barbara began, “when we came in here that night you were wearing that rubber blouse, and it caught on a coat hook and ripped all the way off?”
“But the best part was that I wasn’t wearing a bra underneath!” laughed Connie.
“When did this happen?” I asked.
“One night we came here for a late dinner after we went to the Cell Door; a club a few blocks downtown. In the evenings this place is well known to the leather crowd; and during the day they have munches for the newbies who want to get into the scene.”
“Oh,” I answered.
“So you’re happily married, Connie,” observed Barbara.
“Yes, how about you and Doug?”
“We’ve done very well together, we now have a weekend house in Rockland County. It’s just so big! Doug put in a wonderful playroom downstairs, complete with jail cells! And we also have a set of stocks, and a rack too! Why don’t you two come up to our place for a long weekend – I’m sure that we could have some great fun.”
“Could we, Sam?” Connie asked.
“Sure, why not,” I answered, “It would be nice to meet others in the scene.”
“So where did you two meet?” Barbara asked.
“In a bar,” Connie replied, “I decided to go out alone for a drink, and Sam introduced himself, and then we started dating, and marriage soon followed.”
“That’s wonderful! I remembered how broken up you were after losing your Master – are you into the scene?”
“I wasn’t before I met Connie,” I answered, “but now I’m learning.”
“That’s wonderful!” Barbara replied.

* * * * *

“Well that was certainly an interesting experience,” I said as we exited the Queens-Midtown Tunnel onto the LIE.
“Shopping or meeting Barbara?” Connie asked.
“Both.”
“Did you have a nice time?”
“Yes. Tell me, just how well do you know Barbara?”
“Her Master Doug and my Master were the best of friends, and Barbara and I were friends as well. For a punishment sometimes I’d be given over to Doug and Barbara. They would whip me to a frenzy, then make me service them sexually.”
“Oh,” I answered.
Meaning that my wife had been not just a slave, but also a sexual plaything for others.
“And sometimes it would be reversed – we would take Barbara for a weekend, and it would be my turn. I would crop her bottom till she couldn’t sit down, then fuck her with a dildo.”
“That’s pretty interesting,” I answered, “certainly much more exciting than just ordinary wife swapping.”
“Of course,” Connie replied.
“Would you really like to see them for a weekend?” I asked.
“I’d love to – Barbara and I were such good friends, and she was just so good in bed!”
“Did you have a good time today?”
“I certainly did – I just can’t wait for you to use those new toys on me.”
The drive back to our house on Long Island was perfectly normal. Somehow I kept having this dream that a cop would pull us over, and wonder just what that bag of stuff was in the trunk. Instead, we made it back without incident. Even the Sunday traffic was less than usual.
Back home, Connie opened the bag and placed all our purchases on the coffee table in the den. She looked like a child at Christmas opening gifts, the look of expectation on her face was truly remarkable.
“Would you like to lock me in handcuffs, Master Sam?” Connie asked, “you’ll just love the sound when the ratchets click, making me helpless.”
Connie offered me the handcuffs, and obliged by turning round and placing her hands behind her back. I picked up the gleaming stainless steel handcuffs, pushed one side through the other as a test, then locked the cuff on Connie’s right wrist, followed by her left. Connie then proceeded to pull without effect on the cuffs, showing how the steel held her implacably.
Connie had worn a white blouse and a short skirt, the easier to remove to try fetish clothing on. On her feet were a pair of modest heels.
I grabbed the leg irons, and locked one cuff around one ankle, then the next.
Connie was now totally at my mercy.
“Satisfied, slave?” I asked her.
“Yes….Master,” she answered cautiously.
I opened the buttons of her blouse, and placed my hand down her bra. Connie’s nipples were as usual hard and erect.
“Slut!”
“Yes, Master,” Connie, answered, “I’m a bondage slut.”
I held up the armbinder – from what I saw in the films, this was quite an interesting little device.
“Does this turn you on?” I taunted her.
“Yes, Sir!”
“I’ll bet that you’re wet between your legs!”
“Yes, Master.”
“Well in that case,” I told her, “you deserve a spanking!”
I pulled Connie over my knee, and the sound of the metal links in her chains was quite a turn-on. Helpless, I removed her skirt and pulled her panties down. Connie’s pink bottom was just inviting me to give her a spanking!
Whack! Whack! Whack!
I began by spanking Connie lightly, just barely reddening her bottom. It’s a good idea to start slowly, and build up for stronger strokes later. Besides, it makes the scene last longer.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Most men, I thought, would probably be watching one sport or another on TV for a Sunday afternoon. I instead had my wife in cold steel, and was spanking her bottom.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
I picked up a dildo that had been left on the coffee table, and inserted it into Connie’s wet slit. I pushed it in as far as it could go.
“Hold that inside you, slut! Or there will be a worse punishment later!”
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Whack! Whack! Whack!
“Kiss the paddle,” I ordered Connie, and she obliged.
I than switched from using my hand to spank her and progressed onto the paddle.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Beep! Beep!
At that moment, the cordless phone on the coffee table started to buzz.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Is this Sam?” asked a woman on the other end.
“Yes.”
“This is Joan, one of Connie’s co-workers. Is she there? I’d like to ask if she could take me to work tomorrow – my car is in the shop.”
I unlocked Connie’s handcuffs and sat her back on the couch, and handed her the phone.
“It’s for you,” I told her.
 
* * * * *

That night, I watched as Connie fell asleep next to me, and the rise of her chest as she softly snored.
Joan’s call had interrupted the mood – that was the problem with doing a scene during the day. You never knew if the phone or doorbell would ring. And it would be a little hard to explain having Connie in chains to someone not in the scene.
‘Well Dad,’ I said to myself, “I guess I’m attending to my wife’s needs.”
The End – Connie and Sam will be returning in:
Part 3 “The Masked Intruder”
Attn: Readers please feel free to send e-mail to the author. I do want to hear from you!