The Accidental Sub (37 page)

"Absolute beauty and absolute obedience, Master." she said in a low voice. Her head was down and eyes were on the floor. She had not dared to look up or at me.

"You can avoid this by asking for your release. You know that I will grant that immediately upon your request and cut the necklace off your neck. Now the choice is up to you. Will you stay and accept your punishment or will you ask for your release and leave?"

Those words hung there in the air for a full five seconds before I heard, "I will stay, Master."

I went to her and untied the shoulder straps and let the dress fall. As requested, she was wearing some of the lingerie I had purchased for her. I had told her when I had bought it for her that it was mine to do with as I please. She also wore the belt that held the batteries and control for the randomly controlled vibrator. The wires from the control disappeared into her panties.

She had never been involved in knife play, but she would experience that now to a very small degree. I pulled a folding knife from a pocket a flipped it
open. This was a lock blade knife made by Berreta and could be opened one-handed.

The handle was a new lightweight polymer and the blade had been ground out in places to reduce it in weight and make it very light and maneuverable. The edge was very keen. It was serrated near the handle for cutting heavy rope or seat belt material. It was designed for police or emergency response personnel.

"Be very still slave," I told her. I pulled out the panties from the left hip and slipped the knife in between her body and the panties, then released the waistband. I let the back of the blade touch her skin then sliced the panty. I did the same on the other side, then pulled the remains of the ruined panty from between her legs.

I pulled on the wires that led to the vibrator and the little egg popped out. I then removed the belt and control pack.

I slipped the blade between the shoulder straps of the bra and her back. Again I let her feel the steel of the blade lying against her skin before I did anything. After lingering there I cut the shoulder straps of the bra.

Then I pulled the connecting fabric out from between the cups of the bra and slipped the knife in between her breasts. One slow careful pull of the knife and the connecting fabric between the cups parted, her breasts trying to escape the confines of the bra and elastic of the bra caused it literally to fly off her body and land a foot away.

She now stood before me, stripped by my hand, bound and collared, chained to a winch, and awaiting her punishment. I walked around her to check the condition of her body by hand, then went and got the scarf and finished the job. Her entire body was up to my demands for smoothness. Legs, underarms, and crotch were perfect. I even spread the cheeks of her ass to find the insides very smooth and hairless. The butt plug was in place as I had commanded. She had used a carrot this time rather than the large plastic one that she had purchased. I removed this as well. I wanted her as naked as the day she was born. As a final touch, I took off her sandals.

I decided to question her to see whether she knew why she was being punished. Some believe that a slave should be punished as soon as an offense is committed and it is still fresh on the slave's mind.

Many do as I do and wait until it is convenient to punish. I find, however, that is more effective to have the slave verbally articulate the offense. It brings things into focus for both Master and slave.

I took the flogger she had picked out and took a couple of practice cuts with it. This one was heavy and would be hard to control. "What are you being punished for?" I asked her.

She continued to look down at the floor and finally said, "For not instantly obeying my Master."

"This is not your first offense on this, is it? What was the first?"

Again she did not look up but spoke softly. "I wore clothing with a nether closure in your presence against your wishes and command."

I walked around her once to admire the view. She was mine, every submitted shaven slave inch of her. I stood in front of her with the flogger in my hand and considered how to do this. I then put down the heavy flogger and pulled the light rope flogger from its storage place. "Twenty-five strokes, ten with the rope flogger as a warm up, then fifteen with the flogger you picked out."

I watched her as I pronounced this sentence and saw a small flash of fear in her eyes. But she dropped her head in submission. Her body trembled a little but she said nothing so I began.

With the rope flogger I began on her back and ass, again avoiding the lower lumbar region and not using all of my strength. Soon the ten strokes were up and her body had taken on a nice pink glow. Her back showed the passing of all the strokes from the individual tails of the whip and her bottom was a nice even pink. Other than some sharp intakes of breath, she had not made a sound.

I dropped the rope flogger and picked up the leather one again. I hit the floor with it a couple of times. The noise, not unlike the sound of a rubber hammer hitting wood, a dull flat striking sound, caused her to flinch in her chains.

The remaining fifteen lashes were delivered quickly, randomly, and very lightly. I took three trips around her body and delivered them to various places. She had sagged in the chains when I had delivered the last one but was still standing.

I am careful when using a flogger like this to avoid the parts of the body that might normally be exposed to view. I had avoided legs, thighs, arms, throat, and shoulders. These areas could be seen if L.A. were to wear a low-cut dress for example.

Flogger marks or bruises are hard to explain and before you know it, some has reported it, and difficult explanations have to be made.

Her body was covered in sweat and the passes of the flogger tails stood out in sharp relief against her fair skin. I left her hanging there for a few seconds. I got her a tall glass of cold water and a straw and held it to her mouth. The liquid disappeared in seconds. I did the same thing for myself as my body was in about the same shape and was screaming for fluids.

I wiped down her body as gently as I could with a towel before I took her inside to the air conditioning. In her condition the shock of the temperature change with her body as sweaty as it was could have caused cramping.

I lowered the winch and undid the locks. As soon as the tension from the winch was released, she began to sag. Soon she was on the floor, and got to a kneeling position. I released the locks and stowed the chains, then picked up the whip again. "You have one stroke remaining." I told her, and then asked, "Why?"

She managed to gasp out, "The one to remind me that I'm a slave"

I then arranged her position a little to get into the classic all fours positions rather the one she had slumped into. I delivered this stroke and let it be the fiercest one of all. I then put my foot on her back and pushed her down to the floor. I wanted her to feel the warm garage floor against the length of her body. I then led her by the hair into the cool of the house, still keeping her on all fours.

My punished slave sighed as soon as I closed the door connecting to the garage and the cool of the air conditioning covered her body. I led her to the living room and released her hair as soon as her hands and knees hit the carpet. I had her follow me to my favorite chair and told her to stay.

I got more water for the both of us. The water in Dallas at the height of summer was just plain awful, so I made a habit of purchasing drinking water one-liter sports bottles, which I kept available at all times. I got a bottle for both of us then collapsed in my chair. After drinking most of the contents, I looked at the lovely slave at my feet. I can only say that if you have never had a slave at your feet, you have not lived.

She was a mess. Her hair was wild, makeup ruined, and the tracks of tears were visible on her face. Her body was covered in dirt from the floor of the garage. Even through the dirt, I could see where the beating had left its marks and impressions. I would inspect her body in an hour or so to see whether I had bruised or cut her. That had not been my intention and I had been very careful to punish but not harm.

I grabbed that wild blonde mane in my hand and pulled her head into my lap. I let go of her hair and began to smooth it and she began to snuggle her head into my lap, very like the contented pet that she was. She knew her punishment was over now. We could get on with things. For about ten minutes I did nothing but stroke her hair and take the occasional sip of water to let my body calm and cool down. I let her drink slowly as well, controlling her intake. I thought about how this slave had come to be mine despite all the odds against it.

The phone rang and interrupted my thoughts. I got up to answer it and motioned L.A. to stand. "Take a shower and fix your makeup and hair. I expect to find a beautiful slave in my bed in an hour. Then I got the phone and L.A. left the room and headed for the bathroom.

The call was from Zin, who had a few instructions and requests. First she gave a price per month for the classes. As her studio had to meet expenses and make a small profit yearly, I had no objection to the rather reasonable price.

Next, rather than just drop L.A. off and pick her up, Zin asked that I have her in a collar and a leash when I brought her in this first time. I would give clothing and switch rights in front of her and the class. Finally I was told to provide her with bathing supplies and towel. The studio had shower facilities but Zin did not provide the linen for the class. She was starting several new students tonight and I was told that I might be there a awhile as she accepted them.

I hung up the phone to head for my bedroom and heard the shower running. I slipped out to the garage to put away the implements. I did not think L.A. would repeat this transgression again so I put everything away. L.A. was developing into a fine, obedient slave. I suspected I wouldn't need to punish her for a long time to come.

I got back into the house and didn't hear the noise of the water running. I looked in on her to find her working on her hair and makeup. She was still nude, leaning against the vanity. She smiled at me in the mirror but didn't stop her work. With the dirt from the garage floor gone, I could clearly see her body now. I did not see anything that distressed me.

Most of the marks from the wide tails of the flogger had already faded. Because of the distribution of the lashes, there were only a few places where the lashes had overlapped and none of them seemed to be bruising. I was pleased with this. One of the tenets of the BDSM community is, "Hurt, not harm," and one of L.A.'s original limits had been "pain but not injury."

I considered a deep bruise an injury and was very pleased with my skill with the flogger. There would be nothing on her body that wouldn't fade in a couple of hours.

I slipped into the shower and finally got rid of the sticky feeling on my body. I was in and out in ten minutes and just put on a clean pair of walking shorts and a T-shirt. She appeared to be nearly done and I reached over and pinched both of L.A.'s nipples until they hardened under my touch. "Make them up as well," I told her, then gave her fanny a playful pat and went into my study.

At my desk, I began to dive into the mail that had been neglected of the past day or two and began to sort out bills from the junk mail. I had only been there a minute or two when the cell phone began to ring. It could only be trouble.

I answered the phone to find one of the more reliable field engineers on the phone. He would not be calling me unless he was having real trouble. He spent about five minutes describing the problem and what he had already tried.

He had already come to the conclusion it was corrupted software and could not verify it. I agreed with his diagnoses and dialed in and began comparing files. This could take hours. I let him know I would call him when I had something solid and had him hang up. L.A. had walked into the study and completely took my breath away. Since I didn't need the distraction, I sent her to the kitchen to make sandwiches. She was back in a few minutes with a couple of plates and drinks.

She sat them down and she knelt at my side as we both ate. I was not much company as I had my eyes glued to the computer screen. About ten minutes later I found a whole batch of files that had bad file names and sizes. No quick fix here. I would have to upload the entire system file and watch it for the next hour or so.