G2-Story-027-Three Steps

When Tamsin walked out on her seventh job in eighteen months, she did what she always did, turning up on the doorstep of my large and expensive house with the usual sob-story about how badly she had been treated and expecting me to subsidise her with accommodation, food and money until she became bored with my company and found herself either a new man or a new job to entertain her for a while.

That had been the pattern of her life for the past eight years or so, ever since she had turned seventeen, and at the age of nearly twenty-six with a pretty face and slimly-curvaceous body, I knew that Tamsin had enjoyed numerous wealthy lovers and always expected another one to turn up to save her from having to actually go to the trouble of working for her living.

I was six years older, a highly-respected and hard-working plastic surgeon with a flourishing private practice and an income to match, so Tamsin felt no compunction about sponging from me because she considered I was well able to afford it.

My view was rather different and we had often had angry disagreements, with me trying to persuade her to settle down, find a decent job and at least moderate her sexual activity, and her countering that I was a middle-aged, boring workaholic who wouldn’t recognise a good sex-life if it stood up and bit him.
Her most recent appearance at my house caused yet another furious argument, culminating with the two of us standing only inches apart, yelling at each other.

“Dammit, Tammy, this has got to stop! I will not have you swanning in here like this and lazing around as though you owned the place. You need to sort your life out, girl, and find something that you’re good at. Something you can work at and make a success of.”

“Oh, get stuffed, Harry!” Tamsin retorted hotly, “I am good at something. Very good. I’m good at sex. I like it and I work at it and there are loads of men out there who’d give their eye-teeth to have me in their bed. Not that you’d know what to do with a woman like me!”

“You ungrateful little bitch!” I grated, “If I didn’t feel responsible for you, I’d soon show you whether I know how to treat someone like you.”

“Yeah, right!” Tamsin sneered, “You and whose army? I’ve had better men than you for breakfast, then chewed ‘em up and spat ‘em out without even raising a sweat. I was too much woman for them, and I’m way too much woman for you, so why don’t you go back to your rich patients with their saggy boobs and wrinkles. They think you’re God and can do anything, but I know you’re a wimp and can wrap you around my little finger, so don’t try to boss me around and tell me what to do, Harry. I do what I want to do, how I want to do it, and unless you can come up with a way of doing something about it, then screw you.”

With a mocking wave, Tamsin walked away and went to bed, leaving me seething with fury at her scornful arrogance.

Things didn’t improve during the next few weeks, because Tamsin’s casual attitude towards tidiness and housework was diametrically opposed to my liking for the same levels of organisation and hygiene I demanded in my operating theatre.

She couldn’t and wouldn’t keep the house as I wanted it, responding to my criticism with barbed ripostes that I was as finicky as on old spinster, suggesting that if I wanted a housemaid, I ought to find an Agency that supplied them and reminding me that she wasn’t my slave. After a while of this, I’d had enough and refused to argue with her any more, leaving Tamsin to think that I had just given up and accepted the situation.

It was to prove a costly mis-judgement on her part, for about a month after moving in, she went to bed as normal and never heard or felt a thing as, in the small hours, I crept into her room and very carefully slid a needle into the firm muscle of her left thigh, injecting the contents of a hypodermic syringe into her sleeping form.

I waited sixty seconds after injecting the anaesthetic into her thigh, then bent to lift her eyelid, checking that she was fully-sedated. The pupil, contracted to a pin-point, told me that she was deeply unconscious and I lifted her slim, naked body and carried her from her bedroom down to the cellar where a heavy, old-fashioned kitchen table, scrubbed clean, awaited her.

Placing her on her back, I spread her limbs into a wide X and after setting up the anaesthetic drips that would keep her unconscious and provide her with the liquids and nutrients she would need to survive until I had finished my work, I gazed down at her and scowled in frustration.

“Dammit, Tammy! Why couldn’t you just settle down and be normal, like every other girl? I don’t want to do this to you, but I can’t see any other way to keep you under control. If you carry on the way you’re headed, you’ll end up either dead or in the gutter, so I’m going to make you change, whether you like it or not. It’s for your own good.”

It was the truth ... almost ... but not the whole story, for I had been in love with her since junior school and as we grew up together and she developed from a gawky child to a pretty teenager then into a beautiful young woman, I had lusted after her body with an intensity bordering on obsession. I had suffered the torments of the damned as she embarked on a series of sexual flings with other boys and men, while never showing the slightest sign of either knowing or caring that I even existed.

It had always been the same between us with her seeing me as nothing more than good old reliable Harry, an ever-present safety-net to catch her when she fell off her latest escapade and needed a place to stay while she recovered from the aftermath of yet another disastrous liaison. And I had always been there, to look after her and take care of her until she sorted out her emotions and was ready to head back out into the world to find herself another lover, leaving me to pick up the pieces of my own shattered hopes and dreams that she would, one day, realise how I felt about her and perhaps, return my love.

So far, it had never happened and here she was again, disrupting my life and breaking my heart, only this time, I had finally reached my limit and was going to act ... and damn the consequences ...!

God, she was beautiful and as I looked down at her naked body, I wanted her so badly it was a deep ache that almost overcame my determination and I had to force myself to look away and concentrate on my plan. Fetching the case of instruments used in my professional capacity, I took out the electronic depilator and plugged it into a socket, then began the careful, time-consuming process of removing every trace of hair from her body; the machine cauterising and killing the roots so that none would ever grow back. I removed it not only from under her arms and between her thighs, but also her legs, arms, eyebrows and scalp, ensuring that she would remain totally bald for the rest of her life. It took eighteen hours of concentrated work, spread over three days, but when it was finished, not a single hair remained anywhere on her face and torso, except for the long, silky lashes protecting her eyes.

Otherwise, from head to toe, her skin was totally smooth, like that of a baby, her pubic mound and sex gleaming palely in the lights and denuded of every vestige of the thick blonde curls that had once hidden and protected her from my eyes. Her lovely face and hairless skull gave her a slightly alien appearance that I found distinctly erotic and intriguing.

With the first stage of her transformation complete, I made sure to have a good night’s sleep to prepare myself for the second and when I returned to the cellar, was fully rested and ready to continue. Of course, I was familiar with all aspects of cosmetic surgery, so knew that what I intended to do to Tamsin was both safe from a medical standpoint and well within my skills, although I could not deny that it was rather extreme and would certainly never have been sanctioned by any ethics committee ...

Beginning with her right foot, I made a tiny keyhole incision behind her ankle and with the specially designed instrument normally used to repair tendons damaged or ruptured by sports injuries, I removed a two-inch length of the ligament then stitched the cut ends together. The nerves and muscles would quickly regenerate and form a bond with greater strength than before, and I knew too that the portion I had removed would not regenerate. It would result in Tamsin being unable to lower her heel or place her foot flat on the ground so that in effect, she would be forced to walk always on the ball of her foot and her toes, as if she was wearing invisible, yet extremely high heels. The operations to both feet took most of that day and as I retired to bed, I was well pleased with my work.

The next morning, I began a series of piercings for the restraint jewellery I had decided would be necessary for her to wear in order to ensure my total, fingertip control of her freedom and mobility.

Using a precision laser drill, I made four small holes in the delicate flesh of her inner labia, then six larger ones through the thicker and much tougher folds of her outer labia, inserting two-part, surgical steel grommets through each and squeezing them together with the setting tool until they clicked together to form smooth, seamless and irremovable anchorages in the living tissues of her sex.

I then fitted rings through each grommet, the sharp click as each internal lock snapped closed confirming that these, too, were now a permanent adornment to Tamsin’s body. For her clitoris and clitoral hood, I used a small and a larger, case-hardened, surgical steel U-shackle; these being affixed through grommeted holes in her most-intimate flesh by means of threaded pins which screwed into both sides of the U, then snapped off flush with the arms when I applied the correct amount of torque with the special wrench. The smaller of these was mainly decorative, but the larger was deeper-set in her flesh and thus far stronger and was designed to provide an extremely secure anchorage or capable of being used for the attachment of a leash.

Moving to her breasts, I pierced and grommeted each nipple twice, then fitted the lower holes with horizontal barbells. Conical steel tripods with circular bases resting on the tawny aureoles of her breasts formed cages around her nipples. I grasped the barbells with forceps and raised them until they slipped into the slots at the tips of the tripods, stretching her nipples a painful full inch away from the wall of her chest. They would remain imprisoned that way for I fitted locking pins over the bars, preventing them from ever being lifted out of the slots.

At the upper piercings, U-shackles reinforced the message of her breasts’ inescapable captivity.
My final task for the day was to install her nose restraint system. When I stepped back after piercing and grommeting her septum then mounting the U-shackle that now dangled, gleaming, from her nostrils, I knew the satisfaction of a job well done.

Well aware from bitter experience that Tamsin’s words could be potent and hurtful weapons, I had also determined to deprive her of speech, unless I permitted it.

Luckily, my surgeon’s training and experience had given me the knowledge to achieve my aim. and the next day I set about ensuring that she would speak only at my behest. Piercing her tongue twice, once near the tip then again near its root at the back of her mouth, I fitted grommets, then inserted thick, surgical steel posts from the underside and fastened them in place with equally thick steel rings. These locked through machined holes at the tops of the posts where they emerged from the muscle, the rings lying flat on her tongue. With this arrangement, she would still be able to talk, although with some distortion, but when linked together by a short, flat steel bar, her tongue would be unable to form the shapes needed for intelligible speech and she would be reduced to garbled mumbles.

Of course, should I wish it, a chain clipped to the ring near the tip of her tongue would act as a leash, or could be fastened directly to her nose ring to ensure that I did not have to put up with any verbal abuse or protests that I did not choose to hear.

Her ears were next and although already pierced, I enlarged the holes and fitted each lobe with a pair of small U-shackles, these linked around the back of her hairless head by a chain with a six-inch tail that dangled down her neck and spine, making for yet another convenient way of leashing and controlling her.

The final step in my plan for Tamsin was to make quite certain that she would be unable to resist the demands I intended to make of her. She was going to change her attitude and way of life whether she wished to or not and the restraint devices I was going to use to tame her would leave her with no option but to accept my will and the standards of behaviour that I demanded.

Made from the same high-grade surgical steel as the jewellery she now wore mounted permanently in her body, her restraints consisted of two-inch wide, quarter-inch thick cuffs for her wrists, elbows and ankles, a five-inch wide waist cinch and a three-inch collar. These latter two were fitted with internal snap-locks and welded rings to allow for the attachment of chains or other means of securing her however and wherever I chose.

Turning her over carefully, I brought her wrists together at the small of her back and cuffed her using a heavy, square, high-security padlock, then fitted the second pair of cuffs just above her elbows and snapped another padlock through the welded rings, confining her arms in line with her spine.

The belt required a good deal of my strength to get it to close, indenting her already-slim waist quite noticeably by the time the internal catches clicked shut and when I used a third padlock to connect her wrist-cuffs to the belt’s rear ring, I was pleased to note that her arms were held straight and there was no possible way she could get her fingers anywhere near the locks.

Even if she was somehow able to get hold of the keys, she would still be unable to manipulate them to free herself. The last pair of cuffs went on her ankles and were joined by a thirty-inch rigid steel bar, ensuring that she could not close her legs. Her steps would be small and there would be no fear of her running away, for there was a ring at its centre that would always bear a leashing chain.

Picking up the hinged collar, I slipped it around her throat, then pressed it closed and as the sharp double-click signalled the end of Tamsin’s freedom, I nodded in satisfaction, knowing that when she awoke, it would be as my helpless prisoner. Not only that though for my plans envisaged far more than her mere captivity. Tamsin would become my slave and sexual plaything; her body mine to enjoy and use as I had so often dreamed.

Lifting her limp, naked body in my arms, I took her through the door into the back cellar and lay her face-up on the bed I had prepared, then clipped previously-installed chains to each side of her collar and connected her ankle hobble bar to the footboard. She was going nowhere until her piercings healed and only then would I allow her to awaken from her long sleep to the awesome, inescapable reality of her new life ...

Tamsin’s eyelids flickered and her eyes slowly opened as she awoke from her drugged sleep. For several seconds, she lay still, then frowned as she became aware of a persistent, dull ache in her shoulders, as if she had fallen asleep lying on her arms and was suffering from cramp. She started to roll over, but before she had moved more than a couple of inches, there was a metallic rattle and something jerked at the right side of her neck, pulling her off-balance so that she fell back.

Surprised and annoyed, she turned her head to the right ... and stared uncomprehendingly at a short length of thick, heavy chain attached to a ring bolt protruding from the bare brick wall behind her.

“What the Hell is that? What’s going on?” she demanded, but the words, so clear in her mind, emerged from her mouth as a series of guttural and totally unintelligible grunts! When Tamsin found herself deprived of speech, her eyes bulged in disbelief. Twisting her head to the left, she gaped at a second chain, then hollowed her spine to free her arms and pull them from under her, only they wouldn’t move! Not even slightly! She arched her back and pushed her full, firm breasts upwards, and her shock deepened at the sight of her caged nipples and the pair of sturdy, gleaming U-shackles transfixing the stretched fleshy buds.

Stunned, she shook her head in denial and as the chains at her neck clinked, she next felt a weight at her nose and saw a flash of glittering metal revealing the presence of a third shackle ... fixed through the septum between her nostrils! Panic-stricken, she kicked out wildly only to find that her ankles were connected by a solid bar, padlocked to a ring bolt screwed into the footboard of the bed!

She was naked, just as she had been when she went to bed, but she was naked and hopelessly, helplessly vulnerable to whoever had chained her! She tried to scream, but could only make a sort of throaty squeal that she knew wouldn’t carry very far.

It was far enough, it seemed, for within ten seconds of her suppressed squeal, a door in the far wall opened and to her immense relief, she saw Harry walk in. She had never, ever, been so pleased to see him and as he walked towards her, she was so happy that she was ... almost ... able to ignore the fact that she was completely naked and shamefully displayed in chains. The thought didn’t last more than a second, until he stopped beside her and smiled down.

I saw the horrified understanding flash into her eyes and watched as she writhed and twisted against the chains and cuffs that held her in the centre of the bed; her screams and protests muffled by her tongue bondage. The gleaming U-shackles at her breasts and belly and nose jerked madly and I could only imagine, rather painfully while she fought to escape.

Of course, she couldn’t, and after several minutes of fruitless struggle and subdued screaming then finally floods of bitter tears, she was forced to accept the futility of continuing the battle. Panting from her exertions, she gave up the fight and changed tack, trying to overcome the enormous handicap of her captive tongue and beg me to free her.

At least I assumed that was what she was saying, but the words were unrecognisable and she moaned in dreadful anguish when she heard the grunts and whines that were all she could now produce and realised that she could not even plead with me. Then, as the adrenalin of her panic and fear began to ebb, she winced when her other modifications made themselves felt.

Raising her head to the limit allowed by the chains to her collar, she gazed at the cages imprisoning her nipples, her eyes wide with shock at the sight and as I reached down and casually tweaked the shackles dangling from the tips of the twin stretched nubbins, she gave a shrill, wordless scream and her torso juddered as if an electric current had been passed through her breasts.

“Rather sensitive, are they, Tamsin?” I asked cheerfully and tweaked the shackles a second time, smiling when she wailed again in frantic despair. “Never mind, I’m sure you’ll get used to them in time. In fact, my sweet, you’ll have to, because everything I’ve done to you is permanent.”

Her eyes jerked up to my face and she shook her head in frantic denial, but when I simply ignored her imploring stare and said nothing, her head fell back and she moaned in bitter anguish, clearly realising that I was not joking.

“That’s right, Tamsin!” I confirmed flatly, “Your nipple cages and shackles will never be removed. Nor will any of the other restraints and control devices you wear.

“Oh, yes,” I went on as she tried to protest, “there’s lots more. Your tongue bondage, for example. From now on, you will only be able to speak when I allow it. And the shackle in your nose ... just one of the devices I shall use to control you. I don’t suppose you’ll enjoy being leashed, but it will happen, my love ... all the time from now on. You will also be leashed by the shackles in your clitoris and rings in your labia whenever I feel the need. Your nipples, too, of course, but you already know about those, don’t you? And I’ve replaced your ear-rings with shackles, too. Now, what else? Ah, yes. Your feet. I expect they feel a little strange? I’ve shortened the tendons, you see, so I’m afraid you’ll be walking on your toes for the rest of your life, but look on the bright side, Tamsin! You’ve always liked high heels and now you’ll be able to wear six-inch heels quite easily! In fact, anything less will prove extremely uncomfortable.

“Which leaves only your chains to explain. All surgical steel, naturally. Nothing but the best for you, Tamsin. Wrist and elbow cuffs, waist-belt, ankle cuffs and hobble, and last but by no means least, a good, strong collar for your pretty little throat.”

As I ended the litany of the changes I’d made to her, I expected her to scream and fight, but strangely, she didn’t even try, laying passively on the bed and looking up at me as if she couldn’t believe what I’d said. I didn’t blame her and could well understand her disbelief. She had gone to bed as a free woman, confident in her beauty and sexuality, assuming that nothing would change and her life would continue along the same carefree lines as it always had, with me, reliable, safe, undemanding Harry being there to bale her out when she needed it.

When she awakened, it was as a chained, pierced, gagged and helpless captive ... and good old Harry was standing over her, clearly enjoying the awful plight he had planned and organised for her. Reaching down, I calmly patted her cheek.

“Better get used to it, Tamsin.” I told her firmly, “This is your new life and I have no intention of letting you return to your old ways. From now on, you will obey me and do exactly what I order you to do. A short time ago, you told me that you weren’t my slave, my sweet, but I have news for you. You are and you will be for the rest of your life. My slave, my servant, and my sex-toy to enjoy and use exactly as I wish. There is nothing, not one single thing, you can do to stop me, Tamsin.”

Her eyes widened, filled with horrified dread while she heard what her fate was to be and as she whimpered softly, I nodded and let my hand rise to stroke the smooth expanse of her totally hairless head.

“And one more small thing, my dear,” I added cruelly, “you are now completely bald ... everywhere. Permanently. A new look for your new life as my slave. Even I hardly recognise you now so you shouldn’t hold out much hope of any of your former lovers realising that the humble little slave at the end of my leash, is actually you and come galloping to the rescue.”

That snippet of unwelcome news definitely got her attention and as she screamed and wrenched madly at her bondage, I stepped back and chuckled at the female vanity that had enabled her to bear the fact of her sexual enslavement, yet had been unable to accept that her crown of lustrous blonde hair had been taken from her. More than anything else, that one action had served to drive home the irrevocable changes I had made to her body and her future. She was forced to accept that there was no possibility, no matter how slight, of her undoing what I had done and with this realization her eyes filled with true tears and she sobbed as if her heart would break.

Until her latest escapade and abuse of my generosity, I would almost certainly have been moved by her distress and taken pity on her, but she had tried my patience once too often. Although I still had deep feelings for her and would much have preferred her to settle down and become my willing partner, I had finally come to the conclusion that it was not going to happen unless I took steps to make it happen. The only way I could see to do that, was to give her no other option. So, whether by her own choice, or not, Tamsin had to become my slave.

Certainly, it was a drastic solution to the problem and very hard on her, but as I looked at the incredible sight she presented, any remorse I might have felt at what I had done to her was overtaken and submerged beneath a wave of fierce lust.

She must have recognised the desire in my eyes and gasped in alarm, the muscles in her slender thighs tensing as she attempted to close her legs and conceal the soft, moist recesses of her spread sex. The steel bar locked to her ankle cuffs easily resisted her efforts and when she realised how truly helpless and vulnerable she was, her throat worked convulsively and her eyes flickered from side-to-side, looking for some means to escape.

Of course her search was in vain, for I had made certain to remove all the clutter and assorted junk that had accumulated during my ownership of the house. Apart from the old iron bedstead on which she lay, the windowless cellar contained nothing that could be of any help to her. Ten seconds was more than long enough to convince her that her search was useless and as her eyes returned to my face, I shook my head firmly.

“Forget it, Tamsin. The only way out of here is through that door and even if I was to let you have the key ... which I won’t ... you will never be able to use it. With your arms chained behind your back the way they are, this is where you’ll be staying until I’m satisfied that none of your boyfriends is looking for you or reported you missing. Not that I really think they will, do you, Tamsin? After all, they didn’t in the month after you came to stay and I’ve kept you sedated for the last five weeks while I was preparing you to be my slave. So, I think it’s a pretty safe bet to assume that no-one except me knows where you are or will try to find you.”

It was obvious from her stunned expression that she had had no idea that I’d drugged her, far less that she’d been unconscious for so long. Given time to think about it, she would certainly have realised that her piercings and the operations on her feet couldn’t have healed overnight, but since waking up, her brain and emotions had been subjected to such a barrage of new sensations and experiences that she hadn’t had a chance to work it out ... until now.

As the full extent of her situation became shockingly clear, she shuddered in fear and her expression slowly changed to one of awestruck horror at the undeniable logic of my assessment. Moving from one short-lived affair to the next and rarely staying in one place for more than few months, she had no close friends that I was aware of. Her parents, like mine, had passed away some years before, and so there was no family to miss her. We were both alone in the world and that was why she always looked to me in times of trouble, and I always looked after her ... as I would from now on.

My care, albeit in a very different way from before, would be kept within a relationship and framework of rules and restrictions that she would never have accepted under normal circumstances. Unfortunately for Tamsin, her circumstances had changed beyond recognition and now as my slave, she would have no choice but to obey my rules. She would endure whatever restrictions and demands I cared to impose upon her. The first of these was to begin with her primary purpose of giving me pleasure and serving my sexual desires. Removing my jacket, I slowly began to unbutton my shirt and when she gasped, instantly divining what I was about to do, I nodded.

“That’s right, Tamsin. I have made you my slave and now I’m going to take you. I’ve wanted to for years, just as I’ve loved you for years and if you had ever given me the chance, I would have married you and given you everything I had. You never did, and when you came back this time, I couldn’t stand any more. So, I decided to finish it, one way or the other. Either get you out of my life forever, or keep you in it forever. That’s why you’re here, and it’s why you are going to stay here. I’m going to make you the most perfectly-trained slave I can. It may not be easy for either of us, my love, but it is going to happen and you will have to accept it whether you like it or not. I really hope you will eventually come to love me as much as I love you, Tamsin, but if not, then I shall have to be content with your obedience to my will and the pleasure that your submission and sexual service will give.”

She tried to shake her head and protest, but I was in no mood to listen. The die was cast and my mind made up. As I peeled off my shirt and trousers, she tested her bonds one last time, then lay still, only her eyes moving as she watched me climb onto the bed and position myself above her.

“You are my slave now, Tamsin!” I told her, my voice thick with lust, “And I shall never release you.” then slowly lowered my body onto hers until my hard, swollen maleness forced aside the steel-ringed lips of her labia and sank deep into her belly.

She screamed as I entered her, but could not resist and as my rigid shaft impaled her and was surrounded by the exquisite softness and liquid warmth of her sex, I groaned with overwhelming pleasure as my dream of making love to her was finally realised. It was everything and more than I had ever imagined, far better than any of my previous sexual encounters, and as I revelled in the sensations of her body under me and around me, I knew that I had not been mistaken and that she was my perfect partner and the only woman I would ever want.

Savouring every instant of our first joining, I tried to prolong the sweet ecstasy as much as I could, but the sight of her collared throat, caged nipples and the thrilling knowledge that she was utterly helpless and at my mercy, was unbearably exciting and I was unable to control my raging desire. Pumping my hips forward, I thrust into her body, lunging to the core of her belly and taking her with all the pent-up fury of long years of frustration, my whole being concentrated on the sexual passion filling my brain to the exclusion of everything but the fierce need to subjugate her to the ruthless power of my masculine dominance.

Pinned and helplessly chained beneath me, she screamed again, her eyes almost bulging from their sockets as I ravaged her belly ... then, to my immense delight, her internal muscles instinctually clamped like a vice around my shaft and drew me still deeper into her body as she surrendered to her own devastating need and responded instinctively to the churning heat of arousal that she was no longer able to control. In seconds, her belly began to convulse in a giant orgasm and as my iron-hard maleness was deluged by a foaming wave of her heated juices, my back arched to drive my shaft even deeper and she gave a shriek of ultimate submission as my spend hosed in torrents into the seething, pounding maelstrom of her first climax as a slave.

Her eyes lifted to mine and I knew ... and Tamsin knew as well ... that the sheer intensity and stunning power of the rapturous pleasure we had shared, was and could only be the result of something far stronger and more lasting than mere physical lust and sexual gratification. We were made for each other, the sum of two parts that together added up to vastly more than we could ever be when apart.

For long seconds while her belly jolted to the contractions of her orgasm, our eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, then her cheeks flushed and her gaze slid away when I chuckled.

Of course, she had very little choice, for we both understood that her collar and chains ensured she would be whatever I wished her to be, regardless of her preferences. So, to reinforce that particular message, I withdrew from her body, collected my scattered clothing and walked out of the cellar, closing and locking the heavy door behind me; leaving her chained to the bed with her belly and thighs glistening with the evidence of her enforced submission.

She was given time to think about what had happened and try to come to terms with the lifetime of bondage and slavery that she now knew lay ahead ...

There have been some changes in Tamsin’s time as my slave, but none that have reduced my absolute and all-pervasive control over her, or allowed her the slightest laxity in her service to me.
She now wears ballet-boots with steel-tipped, eight inch heels at all times with her ankles hobbled by a sturdy, fifteen inch chain. The bar which restrains her tongue now forms an integral part of a combined gag and harness which seals her lips and renders her virtually silent, other than occasional bouts of frantic moaning and severely suppressed sobs. Apart from these relatively minor modifications, I have been extremely pleased with the efficiency of her original restraints for all have proven to be utterly reliable and secure. The U-shackles that I mounted in her nose, nipples and clitoris have shown their worth many times over as leashing points and anchorages for the innumerable variations of the bondage and sexual positions that I have demanded of her.

Somewhat to my surprise, Tamsin has adapted to her permanently-chained state relatively easily. Her arms accepted the elbows-together position enforced by her cuffs without any real problems, and while I am well aware that she would not necessarily choose to wear the ballet-boots I’ve selected for her, I like the way they accentuate her legs and the sound they make when she teeters along. She has perforce had to become accustomed to their vertiginous heels.

Without any doubt, the greatest reward for my success in enslaving her has come from her vastly-increased responses to sexual stimulation. Trapped and stretched within their steel cages, her nipples are incredibly sensitive to the lightest touch, while her doubly-shackled clitoris is now constantly swollen to the point where even the gentlest tugging of a light chain-leash at the pierced flesh is more than enough to send jolts of almost unbearable arousal spearing through her belly, to say nothing of enforcing the need for her instant obedience.

Each time I take her is like the first for her passion and heat are so intense and her climaxes so powerful that we are both left drained and exhausted, yet still wanting more.

Alongside these physical changes have come mental ones. As Tamsin has had to accept her slavery, her willpower to resist has steadily weakened and she has become almost completely obedient and submissive, only very rarely showing brief flashes of defiance and resistance to my authority. Although I would never let her see it, I am actually pleased by her short-lived rebellions, for they prove that her spirit is not entirely broken and that she still retains some of the old Tamsin bloody-mindedness and independence that I always secretly admired, even when it drove me to distraction. On the whole though, she is much calmer, more stable and far less disrespectful than she used to be, and I am totally convinced that I did the right thing by forcing her to change even as drastic as the means were.

Whether she agrees with my view or yearns to return to her former life of casual relationships and thoughtless irresponsibility, I have not enquired, but as I have no intention of ever allowing her that opportunity, it really doesn’t matter. As my slave, she is required to live her life as I wish her to, and despite her occasional tears at my insistence that she comply with my rules, I have noticed that she doesn’t always seem too unhappy at having to submit to the demands. Not that she doesn’t try to object occasionally of course, because I have never wavered in my determination to train her as a full slave. The process is not always easy or comfortable for her and in particular I should describe her outdoor costume.

The long, midnight-blue cape with its attached, thickly-veiled cowl I’ve had made for her is modelled along the lines of the external garments worn by Muslim women. Yet it is much thinner and lighter, being a combination of Lycra and latex rubber styled to move and swirl around her body while she walks, while still being loose enough to allow tantalising hints of the curves of her body beneath. The hooded cowl framing her face is deep enough for her features to be totally obscured behind a triple-layered veil that, although enabling her to see the outer world with sufficient clarity to cope with day-to-day routine matters in familiar surroundings, is sufficiently opaque to act as a considerable handicap and restriction whenever she is outside the house.

I think it is elegant and gives her an air of exotic mystery, but I am well aware that Tamsin hates it with a passion, yet paradoxically, she is reluctantly grateful for the concealment it offers. Under its folds, she is entirely naked apart from her chains and steel jewellery that have never once been removed since the day I enslaved her. When I take her out in public, the burqa is her only protection against the many curious eyes of those who see her, wondering who she is and why she is so thoroughly hidden from view. Too, their fascination intensifies when she passes and they hear the tapping of her high heels as well as the musical jingling of chains emanating from beneath her covering.

She knows what they must be thinking and is invariably humiliated by it, but made her decision when I first showed her the burqa and told her that she must choose between wearing it or being taken out completely nude. Unsurprisingly, she chose to be covered and since then has never left my house without being enclosed in its sheltering folds.

Fully restrained, hobbled and thoroughly gagged, she often accompanies me when I go out. At various times she has visited supermarkets, my bank, coffee shops and various beauty spots and on each occasion is leashed by her clitoris shackle to which a light chain led through a small, reinforced slit in the burqa, leads to my hand. This arrangement enables me to exert fingertip control over her and ensure she does not stray from my side. This system of control works extremely well and she is invariably totally docile and well-behaved when secured in this manner, never attempting to escape, even when the close proximity of other people requires me to momentarily relinquish the leash and allow it to retract to the front of the burqa under its own weight so that only the ring at the end protrudes through the slit and is hidden in the folds of material.

Most people are too polite to pry, but occasionally I have been asked about her unusual costume and I then explain that she is the daughter of an overseas colleague, speaks no English and is a member of a strict religious sect whose rules require her to be fully cloaked and veiled when in the presence of non-believers. So far, this has worked and although one or two have clearly wanted to continue the discussion with further questions, probably about the unmistakable sound of her chains, none has persisted and I have never needed to embellish the story.

At home Tamsin neither needs, nor is allowed, clothing of any description and her nudity is simply one aspect of the daily training and discipline I require her to undergo. She has no option or recourse but to obey and any attempt to defy my commands earns instant retribution in the form of either a sharp tug at one of her shackles, or if I consider the gravity of her offence has earned it, one or more stinging lashes from a riding crop acquired especially for the purpose.

It hardly needs saying that disobedience on her part has become a rarity ... and repeat offences almost unknown. On my working days, she is locked in the cellar and leashed by her nose shackle with a chain long enough to permit her to move around or lay on the bed. It’s supremely boring for her and although I have provided her with a TV and remote control she can operate even when cuffed, she is always happy when I return; eager for my touch and to please me.

When we are alone I sometimes remove her gag and tongue bar to permit her to speak and she has learned to be polite and respectful, never raising her voice or arguing and always ... although I have never required it ... referring to me as “Sir”.

She seems to prefer it that way, perhaps finding it easier to submit to “Sir” than to Harry, so I let it pass and rather enjoy the novelty of the situation, but nowhere near as much as I enjoy her services in my bed. Even in her bondage and leashed to the headboard, she is a skilled lover and both gives and receives enormous pleasure and satisfaction from our love-making. In fact, Tamsin has become a near-perfect slave and far exceeded my hopes. When I chained her, I was doubtful that she would ever willingly accept what I had done to her and was prepared for a lengthy and bitter battle to overcome her resistance, but thankfully, that did not happen. I now believe that she was ready, if not exactly eager, to consider settling down and beginning a more stable life, although probably not with me, and I’m quite sure not as a collared, chained and pierced slave.

Still, circumstances alter cases and she is what she is ... for the rest of her life. I shall do everything in my power to make her as happy as I am and hope that she will be content with her lot. My one regret is permanently removing her hair, but oddly, she no longer minds and has suggested the use of a wig should I wish it. I may think about it at some future point, but for now I’ll keep her as she is. I have years in which to change my mind and she will still be here if and when I do.

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