G2-Story-089-First Steps

Roz was introduced to bondage by her then-current lover and although she had never thought of herself as submissive in any way, knew instantly, at the first touch of rope against her skin, that she had discovered her true nature. Within a relatively short time, she got bored and frustrated with his amateurish attempts to dominate her and the cheap, tacky bondage equipment which was all he was prepared to buy. Not only was it cheap, it wasn’t even very secure and Roz couldn’t see the point of letting herself be tied up if she could then escape. It wasn’t even that he was poor and couldn’t afford anything better. Like all the other members of the very discreet and expensive private bondage Club he had told her belonged to, he was extremely wealthy. Annoyingly, he was also mean. He had taken Roz there twice as his “companion” and although she had been wearing the collar he had bought her ... poor quality leather, unfortunately ... she had been treated as a guest and not been required to be naked, or submit to the strict discipline and casual sexual usage imposed on the girls and women who were brought to the Club as full slaves by their Masters.

Again as far as Roz was concerned, unfortunately, because the sights and sounds of genuinely subjugated slaves being disciplined and made to serve in any way required of them, powerfully reinforced her own desire to join their ranks.

Preferably as the slave of a Master who valued her a lot more highly than her lover. After she dumped the cheapskate, she went back to the Club one afternoon and asked to see the DungeonMaster, the man who ran it. When she was shown into his luxurious office, she began to explain who she was. He held up his hand immediately.

“I know who you are. You have visited here twice, both times as the companion of a potential member whose application has since been rejected. Therefore, as you are not yourself a member, I must ask you to leave.”

Roz had anticipated just such a response and was ready with her own. Without a word, she stood up and as he watched her calmly, she kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned her knee-length coat and let it fall to the floor to reveal that underneath, she was completely naked and as the DungeonMaster raised one eyebrow in polite enquiry, she sank gracefully to her knees, let her thighs part and arched her spine to display her breasts and sex, then crossed her wrists tightly at the small of her back. The Dungeon Master waited several seconds for her to explain her actions, but when Roz remained silent and made no effort to conceal her body from his appreciative gaze, he nodded just once.

“Thank you, Dungeon Master.” she replied at once. “I wish to offer myself as a full slave and ask your permission to do so in your Club.”

It was a trick question and Roz knew that there was only one answer he would find acceptable.

“To Masters, Dungeon Master.” she said softly. “I wish to serve as a full slave.”

“A good answer,” he told her, “but most of the members here already have slaves. What if you are not found sufficiently attractive, or obedient, or pleasing enough to deserve a Master?”

“Then ... then I would hope to be ... disciplined and trained to become more obedient and pleasing, Dungeon Master. And hope that would make me more attractive to Masters.”

“Well, at least you know the words.” He chuckled. “But that does not mean you can be a full slave.” he paused and tapped a finger against his lips thoughtfully. “Very well. I shall give you one month. If you have not found a Master in that time, then you will leave here and not return. Agreed?”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He shrugged. “To find your Master, if you do, you must serve here for a month and a lot can happen to an unattached slave in that time. However, I wish you good luck. You can begin your search this evening, at seven. I will notify the staff to give you entry and assist you to make the appropriate preparations. But now, I have work to do, so I will say goodbye for the moment.”

Roz was taken aback and hesitated uncertainly. She had assumed that he would want to test her by using her displayed body in some way, perhaps by taking her or ordering her to perform oral sex on him. Either of which, or indeed anything else he wanted, she was willing to do to prove her sincerity. When he began to write, completely ignoring her, she realised that he was not. Disappointed and somewhat embarrassed by his seeming indifference to her, she rose quickly to her feet and reached for her coat.

“No.” he said firmly, without lifting his head. “You will leave that here.”

Roz stared at his bowed head, her mind whirling. The coat was her only covering for her nude body and both her purse and the keys to her tiny flat were in the pockets. Without it, she had no way to pay a taxi to take her home and no way to let herself in when she got there. Not that she would even try to get there, because there was no way she would dare to go out into the street, stark naked, to hail a taxi in the first place. As if reading her thoughts, the Dungeon Master looked up.

“As it would be rather difficult for you to conceal a purse in your current state of undress, I assume it is in your coat?”

“In that case, I will arrange a taxi for you. We have a private arrangement with a very reliable and exceptionally discreet company. They are quite familiar with our specialised requirements and all of their drivers know what to do and can be trusted to keep their mouths firmly shut about any of our members who use their services. Just do what the driver says and you will be perfectly safe. You won’t even need to pay. The Club will take care of it, and your coat and purse will, of course, be returned to you by the driver.”

Relief flooded through Roz as he picked up the telephone and pressed a single button.

“One private taxi for the young lady you brought to my office. Yes, that’s right. Ten minutes for collection will be fine. No, I’ll escort her myself.”

He hung up and pointed to a small, circular rug some six feet from his desk and to the right, “Your taxi will be here shortly.” he said. “Until it arrives, I should like you to wait on that rug and I would prefer that you did not leave it, or speak, if you would be so kind.”

Although phrased as a request, Roz had no trouble recognising it as the order it undoubtedly was. Determined to give him no cause to reconsider his generous offer to let her use the Club to find a Master, she walked quickly over to the rug and without hesitation went to her knees to display her body as before, feeling her nipples begin to stiffen and her sex moisten as she obeyed. His lips flickered into a momentary smile, then he bent over his papers and it was only a few minutes later that she realised what he had actually said about her coat being returned to her; not, “Your coat and purse will be returned to you.” which suggested it would be straight away, but; “Your coat and purse will be returned to you by the driver.” which suggested something very different ... that she would not be given her coat until after she had got into the taxi. She felt a hot flush of embarrassment rise into her cheeks at the thought of the driver seeing her naked, then it redoubled wen it dawned on her that taxis didn’t drive inside buildings to pick up their passengers. The passengers went outside to get the taxi.

It had been a bright, sunny afternoon when she arrived at the Club and as she remembered that quite a lot of people had been walking along the street and visualised the thousands of windows in the office buildings that lined both sides, her brain quailed at the thought of being made to cross the pavement, or even more horrifying, the whole width of the road if the taxi pulled up on the far side. She would completely naked and utterly exposed to the eyes of anyone who happened to be passing by or looking out a window and a burst of raw heat set her belly trembling while she imagined the scene, because Roz suddenly realised that she really didn’t have any choice.

She wasn’t a Club member and had no legal right to stay in the building and, if she refused to get into the taxi he had summoned for her, the Dungeon Master would be perfectly justified in having her ejected, either with, or almost certainly without, her coat. There would be no taxi to hide in and speed her away from the crowds and the dreadful humiliation that would inevitably accompany her involuntary appearance in public. Compared to that, being seen by one taxi driver, or even a few pedestrians and window-gazers, was nothing ... or at least, nearly nothing. While the seconds and minutes dragged past, Roz’s nipples grew harder and her sex oozed wetly as she began to understand what true slavery really was. For the moment there were no ropes and chains or gags, although those would certainly be used to bind her into the positions Masters chose. Neither were there whips and crops, although they would most certainly be used to discipline and punish her.
For the moment there was not even the sexual submission and obedience she would be required to give, even though true slavery would come from inside her; from deep in her heart and mind, when she could no longer be anything but a slave. That and only that, was what she desired and needed to be more than anything else in the world, then Roz knew, she would be the slave she dreamed of becoming.

The telephone buzzed twice and when the Dungeon Master laid down his papers and stood, a shudder of fear and arousal set Roz’s swollen breasts quivering for her first trial as a would-be slave was about to begin. She took a deep breath and licked her dry lips, determined that she would not fail. Bending, he picked up her coat.

“Up and follow.” he told her casually. “Keep your arms where they are and your head high.”

Rising hurriedly to her feet, she was forced into an awkward half-trot to keep up with him as he strode out of the door, her breasts joggling uncomfortably until she learned that by arching her neck, hollowing her spine and squeezing her elbows together behind her back, she could tauten the twin globes and reduce their erratic movement, but she was too nervous and preoccupied to realise that the actual effect was to push her breasts forward and upwards, thrusting her erect nipples into even greater prominence. Roz may not have noticed, but the Dungeon Master did and as his eyes fastened on the rigid buttons, he ordered firmly.

“Maintain that position!” she glanced downwards and gasped at the clear evidence of her own sexual excitement, so shamefully and unmistakably displayed. “Head up!!” he snapped sharply and as she jerked her neck backwards in instantaneous response to the ring of authority in his voice, her eyes widened in dismay. He was no longer addressing her as a guest, or requesting her cooperation, but commanding her as a slave; expecting and requiring her immediate obedience and getting it ... less than 15 minutes after meeting her for the first time. A wave of excitement and arousal rolled through her belly at the realisation that this was only a small foretaste of the submission she would have to give as a full slave and she shivered in delicious fright, knowing that she would soon have to obey any of the Club’s dominant Masters in the same way.

He led her through a door into the reception area and she felt herself blush as the doorkeeper who had taken her to see the Dungeon Master greeted his boss, then subjected her presented nudity to a long, unhurried scrutiny. She wanted to cover herself, but knew she mustn’t and after twenty seemingly endless seconds, he grinned and turned away.

“This young lady wishes to serve.” the Dungeon Master informed him calmly. “She is looking for a Master and I have agreed to let her offer herself to our members for consideration beginning this evening. When she returns, see that she is suitably dressed and prepared.”

“I think so. Her breasts are excellent, her legs and buttocks adequate and she’s quite pretty. So as long as she can learn to be fully obedient and continues to exhibit her willing submission and obvious need, I see no reason why a Master wouldn’t accept her for a trial period, at least.”

“You’re right, boss.” the doorkeeper agreed. “She’s already hot and wanting, judging by the size of her nipples and the look on her face.”

“Yes. It’s in her eyes, as you say. The potential to be a slave is definitely there and with suitable training, I’m sure she’ll prove to be worth the effort.”

Roz was so humiliated by their casual discussion and assessment of her displayed body that she wanted to protest and hide her nakedness from their gaze, but knew that if she did, it would be the end of her only opportunity to experience the life she had imagined so often. If she wanted it ... and she still did in spite of her shame, she must force herself to remain totally still and silent and accept their arrogant authority over her even though, at that point, she still had the option to walk away. It was hard ... much harder than she expected ... to obey, but by gritting her teeth and digging her sharp nails into the palms of her hands, she was able, just, to hold her position.

The doorkeeper took her coat from the Dungeon Master, opened the street door and walked out into the bright sunshine. Roz gulped as the sounds of traffic and passers-by came through the door, her eyes wide at the knowledge that she was going to have to leave the cool, dim shelter of the foyer to get to the waiting taxi, then the Dungeon Master beckoned with a crooked finger and she walked slowly towards him, unwillingly moving closer to the sunlight streaming through the open door and horribly conscious that anyone glancing in could not fail to see her.

“Your taxi is waiting.” he said coolly. “Off you go, and walk, don’t run. We wouldn’t want any accidents, would we?”

She stared at him numbly, a thousand silent protests racing through her brain, but when he frowned, she gave a low moan and obeyed. One step and she was at the doorway, the sun on her anguished face ... a second and she was outside, her eyes wildly seeking out the taxi, parked 20 feet to her left. A third and her nerve broke and she was racing desperately for its rear door, held open by the grinning doorkeeper. Without slowing, she hurled herself inside and when the door slammed behind her and the driver pulled away from the kerb, Roz wriggled down into the foot well behind the front seat, panting in exertion and the incredible humiliation of knowing that at least one group of pedestrians had witnessed her frantic flight, mouths dropping open and fingers pointing while she had sped past with her blonde hair flying and breasts bouncing madly.

“Where to, Miss?” the driver’s amused question broke into her confusion and as she stammered out her address, he chuckled, turned into a quiet side street and braked to a halt.

“What are you doing?” Roz yelped From her cramped position. “Why have you stopped? Keep going, for pity’s sake.”

He chuckled again and turned in his seat to look down at her naked body and frightened face.

“Oh, don’t worry, Miss.” he said. “I’ll take you home all right, but I’ve got my orders, see. I’m not allowed to drive you anywhere until you sit up nice and straight on the back seat with your arms behind you and your legs wide open.”

“I can’t do that! I just can’t. If I sit up, people will see me. Please, please, driver, I’m begging you. Don’t make me, please!”

“I’ll pay you.” she moaned. “I’ll pay you double the fare if you just let me stay down here. Treble the fare. As much as you like. The money’s in my purse.”

“Sorry, love. Can’t do it. More than my job’s worth, you know. So unless you want to get out and walk home, you’d better do what I say. It won’t be the first time I’ve driven a girl like you home from that Club and I had the same instructions for them.”

An icy chill rippled up Roz’s spine. The Dungeon Master had told her to do what the driver said and as she realised that she was still being dominated and controlled by him even though he wasn’t there, she trembled in horror. Just like the driver, she had her instructions and knew she would have to continue to obey.

“What’s it to be then, miss?” the driver questioned. “Staying in, or getting out?”

“Staying in, please.” she replied humbly and as the driver watched, she crawled up onto the seat with her face glowing a vivid scarlet. He pointed at her and made a circling motion with his finger, smiling as she slowly put her arms behind her back.

“That’s right, love. Now sit up straight, lean back and open your legs like a good girl.”

“Look, couldn’t I just ...?” she made a last half-hearted effort to protest, but he cut her off.

Roz gave up and sat back in the upholstery, trapping her wrists behind her, then spread her legs until he had an unobstructed view of her pink-lipped sex glistening with the juices of her arousal. He gave a low whistle of approval.

“Great set of breasts, girl.” he said enviously. “Wish my girlfriend had boobs like yours, and it looks to me as if you’ve been having quite a bit of naughty fun already.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” he apologised gruffly. “None of my business, really.” and while she smiled wanly, he put the car in gear and drove on in silence. In less than a minute, they were back on the main road and as traffic grew heavier and the pavements busier, Roz fought to control herself, certain that her naked breasts and wet sex must be clearly visible to the drivers and pedestrians passing and being passed only feet from where she sat. She had to do something. Surely even the driver’s insistence on carrying out his orders couldn’t extend as far as expecting her to just sit there and do nothing to cover herself? Surreptitiously, she began to inch her ankles closer together, then with her thighs almost touching, she suddenly realised that his eyes were watching in the rear-view mirror. He gave a heavy sigh and pulled the taxi over to the side of the road and Roz shuddered, knowing that he had caught her out.

“Oh, no. Look, I’m sorry. Please don’t make me get out. I’ll be good! I promise!” she gabbled, jerking her legs apart to where they had been. “See! See! I’ll keep them right there and I won’t move until you say I can. OK? OK?”

“All right, it’s a deal.” he agreed slowly, then added, “But if I see you even think about moving, or hear one squeak out of you, then out you go. Got it?”

“You learn fast.” he chuckled. “Let’s see if you mean what you say ... or in this case, don’t say.”

He reached back over the seat and as Roz gasped, his left hand captured her right breast and the fingers of his right hand slid over her exposed sex. Devastating arousal exploded through her body, but as she tensed to resist and her mouth opened, he snapped. “You want to walk home from here, darlin’?”

Roz knew that she was beaten before she had even had the chance to fight. There was no way out for her and as the combination of her impossible plight and the overwhelming sensations of his fingers rolling her nipple and toying with her labia and clitoris, crashed through her brain and body, she arched upwards in helpless submission to offer herself to his touch. Unable to hold back, her belly pulsed hugely as his fingers penetrated her, a flood of juices deluging into her convulsing belly and over his fingers as she was forced into an uncontrollable orgasm of awesome power, her body shuddering and jerking wildly in complete submission. He let her have one minute of delirious ecstasy, then withdrew his hands from her body and made her get back into the position she had unknowingly broken as her climax engulfed her.

Roz was beyond any hope of resistance, her belly still racked with spasms and her sex oozing juices onto the upholstery and only when she had displayed herself as he demanded, did he drive on, confident that she would not try to defy him a second time. He was absolutely right, because Roz never moved or made a sound for the whole of the rest of the journey, only her eyes betraying the turmoil in her mind while she tried to come to terms with the staggering turn of events that had overtaken her since she had walked into the Dungeon Master’s office. She had been prepared to submit to him to get what she wanted, but he had chosen to test her obedience rather than make her serve him directly; with the result that it had been not him, but the taxi-driver who had enjoyed her first real submission. She couldn’t believe how powerfully she had responded to his touch, nor how deep and intense her orgasm had been, it having been matched only by the humiliation she had felt and was still feeling while she sat silent, obedient and naked in the back of his tax ... not to mention hopelessly aroused, despite her climax.

She could only hope that the Dungeon Master had intended her to submit as she had and perhaps, even feel as she did, in order to demonstrate to her what her desire to become a full slave might actually involve. If he had thought that it would deter her, he was wrong, because Roz had never in her whole life experienced such incredible pleasure and ecstasy as she had when she had been forced to submit to the driver. She wanted more, much more, and knew that when she had her own Master, what she had already endured would be nothing compared to what would be imposed upon her while he trained her to become his total and permanent slave. With her spirits raised by her thoughts, she relaxed while the taxi drove into the small, private courtyard behind her block of flats. The driver switched off the engine and turned to face her.

“Here we are, love. Home, safe and sound.” She let her lips form soundless words and remained immobile until he chuckled. “Oh, yeah. OK, you can move, but I like you quiet.”

Pulling her hands from behind her, she smiled gratefully and pointed to her coat lying on the seat beside him.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it back. But before you do, there’s the small matter of my tip.”

Roz frowned, not understanding. The Dungeon Master had told her the Club would pay the fare. The driver grinned.

“Yeah, I know you don’t have to pay for the ride, darlin’. I’m talking about you giving me a little extra for services rendered, if you get my drift. Sort of, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. And I scratched yours a while back.”

It suddenly became clear to Roz what he was suggesting and she flushed, instinctively shaking her head.
“Now, that’s not very nice or fair, is it, darlin’?” His smile faded. “Maybe I’ll just have to keep your coat as my tip, then, unless you’d rather climb over here with me?”

She hesitated, but as he reached out and put his hand on her coat, she knew she was going to have to give him whatever he wanted. She had to have her coat and her keys and he knew it and so with a shame-faced nod, she climbed over the seat back and when he pointed to the cramped space under the steering-wheel, she squeezed her slim body down into the only space available between his legs.

“I thought you’d see it my way.” he said cheerfully, sliding down the zip of his jeans. “Now you give me what I want and I give you what you want, OK, darlin’? Just one little thing, though. No hands. Just your mouth.”

There was nothing she could do but give in and with her hands once more behind her back, she bent to the joint of his parted thighs and nuzzled into his crotch, her teeth gripping the rough material of his jeans and tugging it aside.

He was more than ready for her and as his thick, rigid erection sprang free, Roz stifled a groan of anguished despair and let her soft lips part to take him into her mouth. It was something her former, unlamented lover had often wanted her to do for him and although she had never liked it very much, at least she knew what to do and how to do it. Pursing her lips, she slid them down the bulging shaft, managing to take nearly all of it into her mouth, then sucked hard and let her tongue swirl around his flesh and back up the full length, stopping just before it would have slipped from between her lips, then she did it again and again, her head bobbing up and down as she did her best to please him and bring him to climax as quickly as possible, before someone, most likely one of her neighbours, came out to see why a taxi was parked in their private courtyard and found her with her mouth clamped around the driver’s maleness.

The awful possibility of being discovered in such a lewd and shameful predicament sent a savage jolt of unwanted arousal straight to the core of her belly and though she tried desperately to prevent it, she was unable to stop a fresh stream of juices spraying from her sex as a second orgasm, smaller but equally intense, raced through her body. To her horror, the uncontrollable pulsing of her belly was instantly transmitted to the driver’s swollen erection and when it triggered his climax, his hands pushed her head down tight to his groin, forcing his massive shaft nearly to the back of her throat and cutting her air supply.

She tried to protest, but was gagged by his flesh and as her nostrils flared to draw in air, torrents of his hot spend jetted into her throat and she was compelled to gulp and swallow frenziedly to stop herself from choking. Wedged under the steering-wheel and pinned by his strong hands, she couldn’t lift her head from his belly and had to drink down every last drop of his seed until he was completely drained, her subjugation and humiliation absolute as she heard him give a chuckle of pure satisfaction.

“Pretty good, darlin’!” he told her, releasing her at last and allowing her to crawl from her cramped position. “Not the best I’ve ever had from one of yours from the Club, but still pretty good.”

Roz was stunned. He had told her that he had driven other women home from the Club, naked and displayed just as she had been, but it simply hadn’t occurred to her that they might have had to serve him in the same way. If they had been slaves ... and it was obvious to Roz that they must have been ... then they would have had no more choice than her and been required to provide the same service to him ... only, according to him, better.

“There you go, love.” his voice interrupted her thoughts and she saw he was holding coat towards her. “Go on, take it. I’ve got other jobs to do, you know.”

In a daze, she took the coat and slipped it on, then opened the door and stepped out, hardly daring to believe she was finally home. The driver spun the taxi in a tight circle and stopped beside her, rolling down his window.

“Don’t forget!” he said, checking his watch. “It’s twenty past four now, so you’ve got just over two hours to get cleaned up and ready. One of the other drivers will be back to pick you up at six thirty to take you back to the Club for seven. See you, darlin’!” and with a casual wave, he drove away.

Roz stared after the taxi until it disappeared around the corner, then shook her head in a futile attempt to clear her spinning brain. She had two hours, only two short hours and then there would be another taxi, and another driver, and then there would be the Club. And powerful, ruthless Masters. And owned slaves.

The doorkeeper wasn’t surprised to see Roz, coat buttoned to the neck, alight from a taxi and come towards the Club just before seven o’clock. After several years of assessing the slow, but steady trickle of young women who managed to find their way to the Club, mostly just time-wasters and thrill-seekers looking for a glimpse of something they would never dare to risk, mixed with a few who were genuinely serious in their desire to offer themselves to a Master and commit to a lifetime of obedience and servitude, he took great pride in his ability to spot a true submissive. The girl approaching his door was one of the latter and he had seen her potential immediately. His judgement had proved accurate and been confirmed when he watched her step out of this same doorway and walk three paces in broad daylight before her discipline had crumbled under the weight of being stark naked in a busy public street. Even then, running for what she believed was the safety of the taxi with her bare breasts and thighs flashing in the sunlight, he had noted that her wrists had remained tightly crossed behind her back in obedience to the order she had been given by the Dungeon Master. Suppressing his smile at the memory, he waited until she was within three feet of his desk, then looked up and spoke sharply, just as she was about to.

“Master!” he snapped forcefully. “When you walk through that door, every man you see is your Master. Including me. Don’t ever forget that.

“Hmm. Roz, is it?” he mused for a few seconds, then shrugged. “Well, I suppose it will do until your Master chooses a slave-name for you.”

It was clear to him from the way her eyes opened wide, that it had never occurred to her that her name might simply be taken away from her if Master decided he didn’t like what she had always called herself. He wrote her name on a slip of paper and handed it to her.

“Go through that door.” he said, pointing. “Straight down the corridor to the last door on your right and go in. The Outfitter will find you everything you’ll need and help you prepare. Give him that paper, do exactly what he tells you and don’t speak. And don’t forget, he’s your Master, too. Right! Away you go!”

Her lips quivered as if she was going to say something, then she nodded and turned towards the open door. He watched her go and chuckled silently as her saw her arch her neck, pull her shoulders back under her coat and cross her wrists behind her in a creditable imitation of the basic slave position. She obviously already knew a little of what would be required of her, but he knew that she had a lot to learn and a long, long way to go before she would earn the title of true slave. Still, at least it was a start.

Despite her two visits to the Club, Roz hadn’t realised how big it really was, or how far it extended beyond the lounge and bar and guest areas she had seen. The wide, well-lit, softly-carpeted corridor had to be a hundred feet long with numbered doors on both sides and as she walked past each one, she couldn’t help but wonder what secrets lay behind them, her nipples hardening to the thought that she would soon find out. At the last door on the right, she hesitated, then took a deep breath and walked in.

“And what do you want?” a man Roz assumed must be the Outfitter frowned up from a work-bench littered with tools and unrecognisable bits of shiny metal. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Put off by his irritated tone, Roz almost forgot that she mustn’t speak and catching herself just in time, took one hand from behind her back and held out the piece of paper with her name on it. He snatched it from her and not knowing what else to do, she put her hand back, hoping that was right.

“Ah, so you’re Roz, are you?” he asked, straightening up from the bench and walking towards her. “I was told you’d be coming to see me, but I hadn’t realised how late it was getting.” While he spoke, he reached out and took hold of her chin, turning her head to one side and then the other. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you? Right, well I can do a lot better than that old coat you’re wearing, so get rid of it and let me have a proper look at you.”

The irritation in his voice had vanished, replaced by the calm assurance of a dominant Master who was accustomed to having his orders obeyed without question and Roz somehow knew, without understanding how she knew, that it would be dangerously unwise to keep him waiting. Her fingers raced to tug at the buttons of her coat and as the last one came undone, she shrugged the offending garment free of her body and tossed it aside, instantly replacing her crossed wrists at the small of her back. As at her earlier visit with the Dungeon Master, she had worn no other clothing, but instead of the approval she had anticipated, the Outfitter ignored her nudity.

The “piece of junk” was the cheap leather collar her former lover had bought for her and although Roz knew it was rubbish, she had thought it would be a good idea to buckle it around her own neck and wear it to the Club as a symbol of her willingness to submit. The Outfitter obviously didn’t agree and as she tore at the buckle with shaking fingers, her belly trembled in fear that her plan had gone disastrously wrong.

“Useless tat!” he snorted when she finally managed to remove the narrow leather band and he hurled it into the far corner of the room. “If you want a collar badly enough to wear that thing, then I’ll get you one that does the job properly. Don’t move.” He bustled over to one of the tall, deep cabinets that lined the walls of his workroom and flung open the double doors, muttering to himself as he inspected the contents. “Hmm. Bit soon for steel, perhaps. Leather it is, then and just buckled to begin with. Yes, that one, I think.”

From where she stood, Roz saw rows and rows of gleaming leather and steel collars neatly arranged on the shelves and as she saw him reach out to select one, the significance of what was about to happen, sent a tremor of thrilling apprehension rippling up her spine. Despite her ex-lover’s pretence that she was his slave, she had always known that she was mentally stronger than he was and that he lacked the ruthlessness to make her do anything that she didn’t want to. He hadn’t understood that she could never be satisfied with the half-measure of simply playing at being his slave and pretending that she was being forced to submit. She wanted and needed the real thing ... to surrender all control over her body and her life to someone who wouldn’t hesitate to take full advantage of her desires to subjugate herself and make her their fully-obedient slave. No matter what it took and so after visiting the Club and realising that there were some men more than powerful enough and determined enough to do exactly that, she had dumped him and then gone to seek the Dungeon Master’s permission to offer herself.

When the Outfitter turned towards her and she saw the wide, heavy collar in his hands, she hollowed her spine more deeply and stretched her neck upwards, baring her slim throat and holding herself absolutely still. The collar was made of thick, red leather with a broad, buckled strap in contrasting black, the collar was designed so that it followed her jaw-line and would make her keep her head up as she discovered when he fitted it and then tightened the buckle. It clamped her throat in a firm, uncompromising grip; not tight enough to affect her breathing, but sufficient to restrict her head’s movement quite considerably and act as a constant reminder of its presence and what it signified. Unlike the one now laying discarded in the corner, this collar was no toy, but a serious piece of bondage equipment, specifically designed to limit and control freedom and when the Outfitter clipped a sturdy, three-foot leash of red leather to a large steel ring beneath her raised chin, Roz’s naked belly swirled with growing heat. He moved back two paces until his arm was fully extended, then gave a sharp jerk. The collar’s hidden, internal ‘strangling’ strap tightened alarmingly to constrict her throat and virtually cut off her air supply! Roz gasped frantically and was forced to stumble towards him so that the strap would loosen and she could breathe again. Her immediate instinct was to grab hold of the leash and resist its pull, but even though her wrists moved apart behind her back in preparation, her desire to submit was stronger and after a momentary hesitation while the two conflicting reactions battled for supremacy in her mind, her tensed muscles relaxed and she allowed herself to be led across the workroom.

Seemingly oblivious to her mental struggle, the Outfitter towed her over to a five foot high, thick steel post that sprouted from the floor in a corner of the room and casually knotted her leash to the ring on its top, tethering her. It was the first time since entering the Club earlier that day that any form of physical restraint had been fitted to her and although it was only a token that she knew she could easily escape, the simple action told her that her status had changed. Collared and tethered, she knew that as far as the Outfitter was concerned, she was now just another slave, albeit one without a Master. She was just another of the many submissive, obedient females it was his job to supply and fit with the outward symbols that displayed the unmistakable message of their subjugation. Without bothering to check the security of her leash, he opened a second cabinet and as Roz saw him select a long cone-like tube of black leather with several buckling straps attached to it, her eyes widened in recognition and her belly kicked strongly. Since discovering bondage, she had spent many hours surfing the Internet and often seen similar devices. It was a single-glove and although she knew exactly how it worked, she had never worn one and so had no real idea just how effective and inescapable it would be once it had been fitted onto her arms.

The Outfitter told her to put her hands together palm-to-palm, then slowly worked the wide end of the glove over her arms and up to her biceps, then began to close the heavy zip. When the teeth of the zip engaged, drawing the edges of the sleeve together, her wrists, forearms and elbows were inexorably squeezed into the heavy leather cone and she winced, her shoulders straining backwards as the increasing tension forced her arms into a single column behind her back. She clenched her jaw, determined not to protest about her discomfort, but when he buckled the leather straps and pulled each one mercilessly tight, she couldn’t hold back a soft whimper of anguish when her elbows met. Ignoring her distress and the alarm in her eyes, the Outfitter calmly looped the last pair of straps over her shoulders crossing them between her breasts then through between her arms and body; threading them through the buckles and tightening them to hold the device securely in place and ensuring that it could neither loosen, nor slip down her arms, then he stepped back to inspect her bondage.

“Bit tight for you, is it?” he asked and when Roz nodded hopefully, he shrugged. “Mm, I expect it is, but then it’s meant to be, so you’ll just have to get used to it, won’t you?”

Roz shivered and gulped, her mind racing as she realised that, for the first time in her life, she had been put in genuine bondage by a man who was a real Master ... one who wasn’t playing games and wouldn’t be swayed by her fake protests or distracted by melting glances and half-promises of sexual pleasure that had always worked with her lover. Bound as she was, the Outfitter could simply take what he wanted from her.

“Right! Gag next!” he said. “I can see your ears are pierced, but as you’re new I assume your nose isn’t?”
Roz stared at him, then gulped and shook her head, her brain reeling when he opened a drawer and lifted out a plastic box.

“OK, I’ll do your nose now. It’ll only take a moment, then I’ll put in a nice, large good strong grommet for a temporary ring until your Master fits you with a permanent one.”

A shudder ran through her body when he set out a spray-bottle of clear liquid and a menacing-looking stainless steel device that she knew must be the piercing gun, but when he turned towards her with the spray, blistering heat scorched through her belly at the realisation that he was actually going to punch a hole through her living flesh. On her previous visits to the Club, she had noticed that most, if not all of the slaves she had seen, wore substantial nose-rings and remembered thinking how blatantly erotic they looked and how easy it must be for their Masters to utilise their rings to control them. The rings were not mere decorative jewellery but serious parts of their restraint equipment! She had even fantasised about having such a thing done to her, but it had never happened, and she had assumed that it never would, until the Outfitter coated the insides of her nostrils with the ice-cold spray, then carefully positioned the piercing-gun and squeezed the trigger.

She squealed loudly and frantically in anguished shock when a sharp, stabbing pain made her eyes fill with tears that immediately spilled down her cheeks. The large diameter, surgically sharpened tube easily punched through the cartilage of her septum leaving a substantial hole that bled profusely for a few moments, but the Outfitter allowed her no rest and quickly inserted a tight-fitting, stainless steel grommet into the newly-pierced hole, then clamped it with the ringing tool so that it became irremovable. He continued to stanch the blood for an additional few moments then, blinking away her tears, she instinctively tried to pull away when he approached her with an opened, shining steel ring in his hand. When her leash drew taut at her.

“Keep still, slave!” she froze, her brain reeling to the brusque command of a Master to a slave.

With practised familiarity, he slipped the opened ring up into her flared nostrils then through the grommet and pressed the ends firmly together until a metallic “click” indicated that the internal catch had locked. He spun the now-seamless ring to ensure it ran smoothly and nodded in satisfaction.

“Looks good. Just your gag to add and you’ll be ready.” he informed her and walked to a third cupboard.

Roz licked her dry lips and shook her head gently, feeling the unaccustomed sensation of weight tugging at her nose and hearing the soft clink of metal against metal as the ring slid through the grommet and tapped gently against her upper lip. Incredible though it seemed to Roz, she now wore a locked steel ring mounted in her nose ... one she was unable to remove! Then, the full significance of the ring sank into her brain for she suddenly, fully realised that it would be impossible to hide or disguise it and too that it clearly betokened her status as an owned thing, not a person. The swirling heat in her belly intensified to the thought that she was now readily identifiable as a slave. A sudden, alarming question flashed into her mind and although she knew she shouldn’t speak, she just had to know.

“Master?” she asked nervously. “I’m sorry for speaking, but how do I get my nose-ring removed when I go home? Do I come back here to you?”

“Removed?” he asked as if the word was foreign to him. “Why should it be removed? Your Master might choose to, but I certainly won’t and neither will anyone else in the Club.”

Roz gaped at him and as her belly kicked, she opened her mouth to protest that she simply couldn’t go out in public with her nose so humiliatingly decorated. Then she let her mouth close, her protest never uttered when she remembered that she had already been out in public stark naked. The Dungeon Master had tested the strength of her obedience and desire to find a Master and by proving her sincerity, she had earned the chance to offer herself as a slave. It was what she truly wanted and as Roz now understood, wearing the nose-ring was a part of the price she must pay to achieve her objective and so she forced down her arguments and accepted the embarrassing requirement.

“I see, Master.” she replied humbly. “Then I will wear it until such time as my Master decides to remove it.”

“If he decides to remove it, slave. Now, open your mouth as wide as you can.”

The gag was a very large mass of hard rubber and while he pushed it into her mouth, Roz winced and stretched her jaws to the limit, panting through her nose as the solid shape was wedged between her teeth, then began to conform to the inner shape of her mouth and teeth. The mouth filler was held in place by means of thin, strong chains to her pierced ears, under her chin and over the crown of her head and as the chains were tightened and all connected at the back of her skull, the gag was pulled deeper into her mouth, depriving her of any semblance of recognisable speech and reducing her to muffled whines and nasal grunts.

“OK!” the Outfitter stood back and inspected her. “Some of the members will probably want to add bits and pieces later on, but that’ll do for starters. Let’s get you out where everyone can have a good look at you.”

Roz’s moment of truth had arrived and when he untied her leash from the post and gave a firm tug, she was led from the room towards her first appearance as a naked, collared and nose-ringed slave, on display and on offer to any of the Masters who might choose to use her for their pleasure and amusement. Or, if she was considered to be sufficiently attractive, perhaps even given the opportunity to kneel before one of them and offer her full and willing submission as a permanent slave.

Further chapters may follow if and when I find inspiration, or any of you reading this come up with ideas for Roz’s further adventures and deeper subjugation. Please e-mail me with your thoughts and let’s see if we can make her dreams and fantasies come true ....

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