(This story is gratefully dedicated to ss, an inspiring and aspiring sub/slave. Without her insight, thoughts, guidance, patience, and caring, it would not and could not exist. I am ever in her debt for all she has done. The story is copyright by me, Preage1313@hotmail.com. No portion of the story may be printed or reproduced electronically without express written consent of the author. This is a work of fiction, based upon the wishes of two consenting adults.)

I awoke from a restless night of tossing and turning. The day I had wished for, yearned for, begged for, was finally upon me. I had been dreaming of this day for many years, and now, today, it had finally come. Today, I'm going to renounce my past, all of my possessions, my identity, and become re-born as a fully collared slave.

For the past few days, I found my mind wandering back over the last eleven months and the paths that I had followed that had led me to this major turning point in my 25 years of life. I had met Sir Campbell on the Internet, of all places. I had read a short story that he had written and posted at the BDSM Library. I sent Him an email telling Him how much I liked the story, and inquiring about certain aspects of it. It began with just email messages, then progressing to online chatting. The physical distance between us had been, at first, comforting to me. He was residing in New York City, while I was three thousand miles away in a small San Francisco suburb.

I had been living with a Master for fifteen months, but He was unwilling to give me enough of what I needed. Yes, He had placed barbells in my nipples, deep at the base of the areolas, but it wasn't enough. His life was too often spent in the vanilla world, and I didn't want to be there. I wanted, more accurately, needed, to be made to bear steel in my body for Him. To feel it's weight, it's unforgettable presence, it's cold harsh reality run through me, for Him. He, however, was unable to go this step, this quantum leap, permanently scaring my "oh so flawless and perfect body" with His steel. His needs were for a trophy wife, to be put on display at business dinners or at the country club. My needs were to be seen both in private and public as what I am, a slave.

During our weekly chats, I had shared all of this information with Sir Campbell. At first, He offered a myriad of suggestions to help make it possible for me to stay with my Master. To find ways in which I could accept my Master's limits, and to see how these limits were due to His all consuming love for me. But I was not willing, nor was I able to accept that, to hear it, or live with it. My need to be owned was too consuming. I could settle for nothing less than being a full time collared slave, in steel.

Our weekly chats and emails continued haphazardly for a few months. Then, one day, I sent Sir Campbell a photo of myself, naked. His natural skepticism wouldn't let Him believe that this was the person He had been in communication with. He called me a "natural beauty," with "a radiant smile that allowed Him insight into my inner being." It was at this time that He asked what sort of contract I had with my Master. I told Him that I was under no contract with Master; that we just had a verbal agreement that we reviewed and re-evaluated annually. Sir Campbell and I came to an accord, that when my year was up, Sir Campbell would take possession of me.

All of that was five months ago. Sir Campbell wired some money to me, and I took a flight to New York. He met me at LaGuardia, and I have been living with Him ever since. And now, tonight, I'm going to sign a formal slave contract with Him, that will be witnessed and attested to, and then I will be collared and receive the steel I so desperately crave.

Sir Campbell had explained everything that would happen tonight, many times, right down to the most minute detail. He wished that I have ample time to think it all through, and to be prepared for what I would have to endure. All of the stages leading to my complete and total slavery were to take place in the private dungeon of a Mistress friend of Sir Campbell's. Guests would be in attendance to witness the events, all friends of Sir Campbell and the Mistress of the dungeon.

My stomach was a flurry of knots as I ate a light breakfast, got dressed, and left the apartment, heading for the salon Sir Campbell had selected for me. "It's sympathetic to your needs," He told me.

The salon was a good fifteen blocks south of His apartment on East 92nd St, off York, but being that it was a bright and sunny spring day, I decided to walk. I had allowed myself plenty of time to make the 9:00 appointment, so I enjoyed my leisurely stroll.

I found the quaint little shop with no problem at all, as I was getting pretty good at finding my way around Manhattan now. It was nestled between a small bakery and a book store. "Not too bad for a small town girl," I thought to myself as I walked in the door.

The receptionist looked up from he appointment book and asked, "May I help you?"

I replied, "Yes, thank you, I have an appointment today. My name is Sara Thomas."

The receptionist looked back into her book and said, "Yes, I see it right here. You'll be with Heather. She's on her break right now, you're a bit early. If you'd like to have a seat, she should be back in five minutes or so. Could I get you a cup of coffee?"

"That would be nice, thanks, if it's no trouble."

"None at all. How do you take your coffee?"

"Oh, black please. No sugar."

The receptionist got the coffee for me, and I turned to take a seat near the window, so I could calm myself a little as I watched the early morning the passers-by. I've never tired of people watching in the city.

"You must be sara," a voice roused me from my daydream. "I'm Heather. If you'll come with me we can get started. We have a lot to do."

I followed Heather to the back of the salon. She pulled a curtain closed behind us to keep us sequestered from the other patrons. "Please remove your clothes," Heather said, casually. I hesitated at the request. In a menacing tone she repeated, "Take off your clothes now! I don't have the time or the patience to deal with a modest slave."

Timidly, I pulled my sweatshirt over my head, exposing my rather smallish cone shaped 32C breasts. I have never bothered with bras, never felt the need. Then I undid my jeans and slid them off my hips. I paused momentarily, standing there in my pale blue cotton panties, until Heather's gaze prompted me to fully comply with her directive.

When I was totally naked, Heather inspected me slowly, and said, "Raise your arms, please." I did as she told me, even taking the further step of lacing my fingers together with my hands behind my head. "I understand He wants the arm pit hair to remain?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Why? It's disgusting! This isn't France."

"Sir Campbell makes me keep it because He,.He knows how mortified I am by it."

"Well then," she said, "This is your lucky day. I will not allow Myself to be put in the position of facing Mistress Ilsa after sending a slave to Her with hair in her arm pits. She allows none of Her slaves any body hair anywhere. Ever! I'll lose My clients if I allow you to walk out of here with hair anywhere below your neck.

" We'll dye your body hair black in a few minutes so that we can see it more easily. In that way, we can work much faster in removing it, permanently. Not only are you going to lose your pubic and arm pit hair, but we're also going to get rid of a lot of that fine hair on the rest of your body. You'll be as smooth as the day you were born when we get through with you. A manicure and pedicure, then we'll wash your hair and comb it all out. We'll finish that off with some nicely scented oils and a massage. Sir Campbell will be quite pleased, I'm sure. I'm told both He and Ilsa have lots in store for you this evening!" I wondered what the beautician knew, and why she knew it, but didn't give it too much thought after that. With a gentle push on my shoulder, She led me to the black vinyl and chrome chair in the center of the booth.

Heather left me alone in the chair for a few moments, and returned with three other attendants. I felt my face flush instantly in embarrassment as these three women came in. "As you know, sara, Sir Campbell wants this hair removed permanently, so we're going to do electrolysis. It's a little bit painful, but I really like the way it comes out better than any other method. With all four of us working on you for the full day, we will be able to get almost all of your hair removed today, and then Sir Campbell will be sending you back when He wants the rest of the fine downy hair removed from your belly and back as well.

"What is most important, is that you have absolutely no hairs remaining on your breasts, mound, or crotch that would interfere with the piercings planned for tonight. We'll make sure we get all the ones around your ass hole and crack as well.

"As I said, electrolysis is a bit painful, but it's going to be a lot more so for you since all four of us will be working on your body at the same time. We're going to strap you down for your own comfort to work through the pain and also to protect your skin from any unwanted burns from the electrolysis wands."

Despite Her reassuring nature, I couldn't control the mixed emotions of fear and embarrassment at having these four strange women strapping me down firmly in the chair, and then pulling up their wheeled work stools and electrolysis stations all around me to commence the work.

"We'll give you a stretch break every hour, and we'll turn you over at the same time to give you a little relief. But we will be working throughout the day."

The first hour was the worst, but things improved gradually as the day passed. I tried hard to cope, but never got comfortable with the intensity of the multiple pain that was being imposed upon me. It was well past 6:00 PM when I emerged from the salon. My whole body was a sheath of residual pain and prickly sensations, but as smooth and oiled as Heather had promised. She was quite pleased at how much they had been able to to do to my body today - even managing to remove a lot of the fine downy hair from my belly and back. Heather wasn't pleased with the sweatshirt and jeans, but I'm not her slave, so she let it go. She wished me all the best for the remainder of the evening, and with a mischievous smile, She hailed a cab for my trip home, as I didn't have a lot of time to get ready for tonight.

When I got home, I found Master waiting for me in the living room, casually perusing a sail-boating magazine. "Ah, there you are," He remarked as I entered the room. "Let Me see you."

I undressed quickly and stood before Him as He had taught me; legs apart, hands behind my head, fingers laced together, eyes shut. I heard him get up from the couch and walk slowly around me. I fought hard to concentrate and keep my eyes closed. "Very lovely. Very lovely indeed," He commented, tugging lightly on my nipple.

"Well! I see they did your armpits as well. Mistress Ilsa told Me She had a surprise for when you returned from the salon. I must admit that it does make you look all the more naked and submissive without it," He commented, tugging on my pierced nipples."Kneel," He commanded!

I immediately dropped to my knees, keeping my hands behind my head and my eyes tightly shut, so I heard, rather than saw, the buckle of His pants being undone, and the pants being pulled down. "Your mouth, cunt," He ordered! I opened my mouth, stuck my tongue out as far as I could, and waited for His rigid cock to invade it.

He didn't keep me waiting long, and unlike His usual style, where He slowly introduces His flaccid cock into my mouth, allowing me to feel it grow in length and girth in my mouth, this time, He drove His already stiffened rod straight top the back of my throat as fast and hard as He could, causing me to gag on the unexpectedly deep and sudden intrusion. My natural reaction was, of course, to pull back, away from the invader, but He saw that coming and He grabbed my hair with both hands, yanking my head forward as He drove to the deepest recesses in the back of my throat.

Drool began to flow copiously from my lips as I stifled the urge to throw up. He paid me no heed, seeking only His pleasure in my retching and gagging, as He pounded His pubic hair into my nose, even pinching my nose, making it hard to breath. Finally, I heard Him cry out, as He dumped His hot salty load into the back of my mouth. He held it there, with my face pressed into His groin, and I drank it down, every drop, and sucked and licked Him clean.

As I zipped up His trousers, Sir Campbell said, "I'm going out to take care of some last minute details. You should try to rest. I'll be back by 8:30, and we'll have a light meal before heading over to Ilsa's for the ceremonies."

"I'll try, Sir Campbell, but I'm too keyed up to sleep."

"That's all well and good, sara, but you should lie down at least. Read a book or magazine, and try to relax."

I went upstairs to the bedroom, and grabbing the tv remote, I pulled a comforter over myself as I snuggled into His big plushy easy chair. Within ten minutes, I had fallen fast asleep.

The sounds from the television aroused me from a dreamless nap. Glancing over at the clock radio, I saw that it was 7:50. With a yawn and a stretch, I rose and went to the make-up table to prepare. He had already told me that eye make-up and lipstick would be all I could use, so I applied my eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara, eyebrow pencil, and lipstick. When I was happy with the results, I went to the closet and took out the package Sir Campbell had told me contained my clothes for tonight.

With a slight nervous shake to my hands, I set the box on the bed and opened it, taking out a black leather halter top with straps that would encircle my breasts, but would leave them completely exposed. There was a black satin garter belt and black back-seamed stockings, a pair of sandals with tie straps that went up over the calf, and a red spandex mini skirt, which I knew would hardly cover my cheeks. I put everything on and checked myself out in the full length mirror that was on the back of the closet door. Pleased with what I saw, I went downstairs to the living room, to await His return.

I didn't have to wait very long, as I heard the front door lock begin to turn. I quickly fell to my knees and waited for Him. "That's a pretty picture, My little slave. On your knees, and waiting to serve Me." He took my hand and I rose and followed Him as He led me into the dining room. A formal place setting had already been set out by the maid, with His best crystal, sterling place settings, and fine chinaware. He held my chair for me, and poured us each a glass of Chardonnay.

The meal was brought to us as we discussed the evening that was about to unfold. When we were through, he asked me, "Do you have any questions or concerns, sara?"

"No, Master, thank You. But,.if I may be so bold.?"

"Yes, go on."

"I am getting very nervous. I mean.I know this is what I want to do, very, very, much. But,.it seems so overwhelming to me. I've thought about this day for so long, from even before we met, but,.now that it's here,. I guess I'm a bit frightened."

"Are you getting cold feet?"

"No, no. It's nothing like that," I pleaded. "It's just,.I mean,.I mean, I think that maybe it won't be what I expect. That.it won't be enough."

"There, there,.that's quite alright. You've just built this day up in your mind for so long that you're afraid the reality won't come close to the fantasy.

"That's to be expected really. Quite normal. Believe Me, I'm going to put all of your concerns to rest right now, sara. I've planned tonight to be all that you're expecting, and more. I even have a few surprises in store for you. But, you must understand, that I see this as the beginning of something between us. The start of our journey together, as Master and slave. You will be giving Me everything that you have. Everything that you are. Everything. And I will be taking everything from you. And with that taking comes the responsibility of giving you everything you will ever need, ever again. We will grow through this experience, together, in ways no mere married couple could imagine. This isn't a sharing of lives, it's much more than that. It's deeper, more profound, more significant. It's the total acceptance of what you are, what I am, what we are, and what that makes us.

"You are about to give yourself to Me. Every aspect of your life, your being, will become mine, to do with as it pleases Me, for My needs and pleasure alone. A tremendous weight will be lifted from your shoulders, as you will no longer be responsible for anything except serving Me. I am taking all of that over from you. Your only reason for being is Me, and Me alone. I promise you that I will o all that is in My power to completely and totally enslave you." And having said that, He leaned over, cupped my chin with His hand, and kissed me, in a deep and passionate kiss. His tongue probing far into my mouth. When He broke the embrace, he announced, "It is time to go, if you are ready."

"I just need to freshen up. I'll be right with You."

"I'll wait here."

I went upstairs to freshen my make-up and pee, since I had no idea when the opportunity might arise again. When I came back, He was waiting for me in the foyer, with my coat draped over His arm. We got into His pearl white BMW Z3, and taking the 85th Street Central Park transverse, headed crosstown to the house of His friend, Mistress Ilsa.

He found a parking place on the street around the corner on Ninth Avenue, and we walked quietly down the block, my arm through His. Other couples out walking paid us no heed, as they went on their respective ways. I wondered what they would think if they knew where we were going and what was about to happen. A light breeze swept down the quaintly lit street and caused me to shiver. Master put my coat over my shoulders as we walked.

We climbed the stairs to the top of the stoop and He rang the bell. A formally dressed older man answered the door. He was quite tall, slim, and very distinguished looking with dark hair that had gone gray at the temples. "Good evening, Sir Campbell," he sais in a bass baritone voice with velvety overtones. "May I take Your coat, Sir?"

"Yes, Malcolm, thank you," Master replied, as the butler helped Him off with His coat. When he made no move to help me, I shrugged my coat off my shoulders and handed it to him. Even dressed in the leather halter top and ultra small mini skirt, I felt completely exposed and naked.

"Mistress is expecting You. She's in the living room, Sir. All of the expected guests have arrived as well. If You would like to go right in?"

"Thank you, Malcolm."

We walked into the living room, where we found twelve people waiting for us, silently. Five of them, two women and three men, were fully clothed in gowns and tuxedos, while the rest were all naked, and on their knees. There were five female slaves and three males. One of the females was about sixty years old. She wore thick iron rings in her breasts and labia, with heavy weights dangling from the rings. Her nether lips had to be at least six inches long, and the holes that pierced them were elongated to over an inch from the weight. One of the male slaves penis and scrotum were tattooed, right to the tip! And he wore a thick ring in the end of it as well.

A strikingly handsome woman was sitting on the coach, Her legs tucked up underneath Her. I assumed She was Mistress Ilsa. She was twisting one of the nipples of a male slave who knelt at Her feet. She looked up when She heard us enter the room, and announced, "Ah, here they are now."

Everyone turned their attention our way. "You all know Sir Campbell," Ilsa said by way of introduction, "and this is His slave, sara."

"Sir Edmund," She called out, not taking Her cobalt blue eyes from mine, "May I borrow Your slave?"

"Yes of course, Ilsa. The pleasure is all mine,"

"Slave Danielle, remove sara's clothing."

"Yes Mistress."

A middle aged slave got up off her knees and approached me. Both of her firm breasts bore brands that had been outlined in tattoos. They appeared to be a monogram of some kind. The brands were very deep, having been burned a good half inch into her flesh. The tattooed outlines making them all the more obvious and intense.

I stood stark still as slave Danielle undid my leather halter, the mini-skirt and garter belt. She untied my sandals as a nervous shudder ran through me. I stepped out of the sandals, then I lifted one leg, and then the other, allowing her to roll the stockings off my feet.

I stood there, naked amongst them, trembling in my exposure, and immediately assumed the position He required of me; legs spread, hands behind my head, fingers laced together, eyes closed. All of the slaves remained as they were, but their Owners all got up and walked around me, inspecting me. I felt a light touch on the flat of my stomach, a finger nail tracing my breasts and nipples, a hand caressed the curve of my backside, a finger parted my lower lips, probing gently into my inner recesses, another finger forced it's way into my mouth, but no words were spoken to me, only congratulatory remarks were made to Sir Campbell regarding my looks and His acquisition. It was as if I was an inanimate object appraised for it's value.

"If we're all ready," Mistress Ilsa announced, "then I think it is time to proceed with the ceremony.

"Sara, kneel before your Master!"

Quickly, I knelt, but not being sure of what to do with my hands, I kept them behind my head.

"Master Richard, would You be so kind as to do the honors, please?"

"Gladly, Ilsa," a tall man with shoulder length blond hair answered, stepping forward so that He stood in front of me. He was wearing a light tan suede vest, with no shirt, skin tight blue jeans with a large turquoise belt buckle. His cowboy boots were tan suede as well and matched His vest.

"Sara," He began, "Have you come here freely, and of your own will?"

"Yes, Sir, I have."

"I am going to give you one opportunity to change your mind. To end these proceedings, and return to your prior life. When I present that opportunity, you may either ignore it or accept it. If you accept it, you will be released. Set free. You will never have any contact with Sir Campbell ever again. But, if you ignore your opportunity, we will continue, and there will be no backing out from that point on. Am I clear?"

"Yes Sir," I answered boldly, as me knees began to tremble. My stomach was doing flip flops in anticipation of what was to come, but I didn't know if it was from nervous fear, or elation at what was about to happen to me.

He interrupted my thoughts as He began; "sara, do you wish to renounce your life, your possessions, and your identity?"

"I do."

"Do you wish to give everything that you own, or will ever own, through work or inheritance, or through any other means, to Sir Campbell?"

"I do."

"Do you grant to Him complete ownership of you, in every way?"

"I do."

"Do you grant to Him the use of you in any manner He sees fit, for anything He wishes, for any reason He wishes without question, and without any regard for your wishes?"

"I do."

"Do you agree to accept any form of modifications to your body that He may desire, including, but not limited to, permanent metal collar and restraints, piercings of any kind, corseting, tattooing, and branding?"

"I do."

"Do you agree that Sir Campbell will, from this day forth, have the exclusive right to give you to anyone, for any purpose, to loan you to anyone for any purpose, or to sell you to anyone for any fee or service?"

"I do."

"Very well. I have a contract here for you to sign. It stipulates the same things you just agreed to in front of these witnesses. It also spells out what your responsibilities are as Sir Campbell's slave and property. It explains your rights as a slave, and it contains a clause for the dissolution of the contract. Is there any part of this contract that you wish to have explained to you?"

"If I may be so bold, Sir. I wasn't aware that the contract could be broken."

"The clause has been added to state that the contract may be broken only when, and if, you ever disobey a direct order from Sir Campbell. Your trust in Him must be so complete, so absolute, that you will place yourself in His hands, knowing that He will never violate that trust. No safe words will be agreed upon. Is this acceptable to you?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank You, Sir."

Master Richard produced a long quill and stuck the nib in my breast, causing blood to drip. He handed the quill to me, and dipping the quill in my breast blood, I signed the contract, enslaving myself to Sir Campbell forever.

I handed the quill back to Master Richard, who, in turn, handed it to Sir Campbell, saying, "Sir Campbell, here are the papers for Your slave. From this moment forth, she is Yours."

"Thank You, Master Richard," He said, taking the proffered papers and quill. He dipped the quill into the hole in my breast and signed the contract, as applause broke out among the guests, Masters and slaves alike. Master Richard then witnessed both signatures, again drawing from my breast blood.

"Sir Campbell," Ilsa called out, rising from Her seat on the couch with a small oaken chest in Her hands.

Master took the chest from Her and came over to me. He set the chest on the floor at my knees and opened it. He removed a stainless steel collar, which He placed around my neck. The collar fit snugly enough so as not to slide around on my neck. A loud 'click' announced to all present that it had been permanently locked in place. He then took out a set of matching ankle and wrist cuffs and permanently locked them on me as well.

When it was concluded, Mistress Ilsa stood, and proclaimed, "I present to you, Sir Campbell's slave." More applause accompanied Her declaration, and my happiness was measured in the smile that broke out on Sir Campbell's face. "I have wine and cheese prepared in the dining room. Let's retire there while the slaves take sara to the dungeon and prepare her for her irons."

After they had left the living room, and only the slaves remained, slave Danielle helped me to my feet, saying, "sara, we have to prepare you, please come with us."

Slave Danielle helped me to my feet, and taking me by the arm, she led me to the basement stairs. We stopped at the head of the stairs and Danielle opened the door. I looked down the staircase, which was bathed in a warm flickering light from the sconces and candles, and saw a long corridor. "Go downstairs and wait for us in the dungeon, sara," Danielle ordered.

I started down the stairs slowly, the hard stone floor getting noticeably cooler with each step as I descended into the dungeons of Mistress Ilsa. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was face to face with Malcolm, who was all disheveled and bathed in sweat. His coat was over his arm , his shirt sleeves rolled up, and he was out of breath. I turned instinctively, in a panic, searching back upstairs for Danielle and the other slaves, but the door had been shut behind me, and they were nowhere to be seen. Malcolm pushed by me rudely, and started up the stairs, without a word.

As I approached the end of the corridor, there was a large stone arched doorway, with a heavy dark wooden door. I remember thinking how strange this was here on the upper west side of Manhattan, it looked exactly like castle hallways from Robin Hood movies.

I reached the door, and, giving it a push, found the dungeons of Mistress Ilsa. Candles were everywhere; on chandeliers, floor stands, tables, and wall mounted. Whips, restraints, floggers, leather hoods, dildos, clamps, hung from spikes all around the walls. The stone ceiling, walls, and floor, coupled with the chains and implements of torture that adorned the walls, gave the massive room a medieval flavor. Dominating the room, however, was a large St. Andrew's cross, upon which a naked slave was bound. It was immediately clear that she had been the recipient of a quite severe and recent flogging, a heavy sheen of sweat covered her completely. Violent red welts crisscrossed her belly and thighs, horizontally, diagonally and vertically. A very large rubber ball gag was stuffed into her mouth, and drool dribbled out of the corners, dripping off her chin to a small pool on the floor. She had no body hair anywhere on her. Head to toe she was clean and smooth. But what struck me as the most startling, was the bar that ran through her breasts. One thick heavy stainless steel bar had been run through both of her breasts and was capped with large round barbells. Hanging from the bar, suspended under each breast were 'U' shaped clasps like one would find on a sailboat.

I stared, open mouthed, at the spectacle before me, my heart racing.

"Mistress wishes for you to inspect slut's bars and clasps, sara," danielle said, startling me. "Yours will be like hers, except that you're going to get shorter, individual bars. One in each breast, instead of one long one through them both." I spun around to find danielle and the other slaves in the torture chamber with me.

Trembling uncontrollably at the thought, I stepped up to the cross and looked up into the bound slave's eyes, momentarily forgetting that she was gagged, I asked, "May I touch them, please?"

"There's no need to ask her permission," danielle chimed in. "Mistress wishes it."

My eyes slowly fell from the slave's eyes to her breasts. The steel which pierced them was either surgical or stainless steel, I don't know the difference, and it was quite thick, maybe 3/4 of an inch in diameter. The 'U' shaped clasps were made of the same material and looked like shackles. They swung free on the bar as I lifted them both at the same time, all the way up and over her breasts to her collarbones. The holes in the breasts themselves looked a lot like very large versions of pierced earlobes.

I was so absorbed by the bar and clasps that I didn't immediately look at the breasts themselves. One had been scared viciously, with something that had not only cut the tender skin, but had ripped and torn it away as well. The other one had been subjected to a long and methodical scarification that was both ornate and frightening. Intricate free form designs had been cut into the soft flesh, completely encircling the orb and nipple.

Once again, I looked up into the slave's eyes. Her coal black eyes seemed to radiate and I was met with a look that could only be described as fierce pride. She had no other way of expressing herself, between her bondage on the cross and the gag. I began to have self doubts that I could be as proud in my total submission as she was, when danielle interrupted my introspection saying, "slave jared and missy boy, please remove slut from the cross so that sara may take her place."

Two of the he-slaves began unbuckling the numerous straps that held her fast to the cross. I stole a glance at one of them when I heard a tiny bell making a delicate tinkling sound. It was attached to a ring that pierced the tip of the blond slave boy's very small cock. I had never seen one so small before. It couldn't have been more than one inch long.

When the slave was down from the cross and they had removed her gag, she rubbed her jaw, and wiping the drool from her face she said to me, "Get up on the cross!"

I mounted the cross, placing my arms on the uprights, and waited while the slaves set about to binding me tightly to it. An extra board had been added going straight up from the middle, behind my head. "We're going to strap you tighter than usual, sara," the slave with the breast bar explained, "in order that you can't move when you are being pierced."

"I know, thank you. Could you tell me your name?"

'Slut is my name. I belong to Mistress Ilsa," she said, cinching the waist strap tightly, causing me to exhale quickly.

None of the others ventured a comment, they just continued with their task of strapping me to the cross with multiple straps. When they were done, the thick hard leather straps encircled my wrists, again just above my elbows, under my arm pits, ankles, just above the knees, and an inch below my crotch. A much wider and heavier belt was cinched tightly across my waist, constricting it, and making deep breaths impossible. Another strap went around my throat, while another was fastened across my forehead. "Can you move, sara," slut asked?

I tried hard to move, but found that the only range of motion I still had was in my feet and hands. "No, slut. I can't"

Slut didn't bother with a reply, but she re-checked all of the bindings herself, making sure they were as tight as they could possibly be. The slaves all bowed and kissed my mons, and then they all wishes my congratulations. Then, one by one, slut led them away from the cross, and they were all shackled to the walls around the perimeter of the dungeon by their wrists, which were held high over their heads by chains, pulling them up onto the balls of their feet. Slut then knelt at the foot of the cross, and began to lap at my open sex, not trying to bring me off, but controlling me, keeping me on the brink. Fully aroused.

That was how Mistress Ilsa, Sir Campbell, and their guests found us when they descended the dungeon stairs.

"Please everyone, take a seat," Mistress invited them all. "Sir Campbell, would You sit next to Me?"

"With pride, Ilsa."

"As some of You are aware," Sir Campbell began, "My new slave came to Me because her previous owner didn't wish to give her the things she needed to truly be a slave. I, however, intend to do all that, and more. Slave sara, as she is to be known from this point on, has a fervent need to be enslaved in irons, She desires to have the cold steel placed in her for Me, and it is My wish that she bear the iron in her breasts, her clit and labia, and her septum.

"Mistress Ilsa's good friend, Dr. Peters, will be performing the procedures. You have all had the opportunity to examine His handiwork on slave slut's breasts. He is highly regarded in both the straight community as well as in ours."

Sir Campbell turned to His right, and with the wave of His hand, introduced the doctor, saying, "Dr. Peters, if You would be so kind, please proceed."

Dr. Peters walked over in front of the cross where I was bound, and turned to face the applause that was being offered on His behalf. "I have given a great deal of thought," He proclaimed, "as to the order in which slave sara will receive her irons. I have decided to begin with her septum. However, before I begin, I'm going to apply vacuum bells to her breasts first, in order that I may stretch them out from her body to the maximum, in preparation for her skewering.

"Slut, if you would assist Me?"

Slut stopped licking me, and getting up from her knees, she went for the vacuum pump and cups. She held them out for Dr. Peters, and He placed one on my left breast, holding it there, while slut attached the hose for the pump. The cup was quite a bit larger than my nipple and areola. I started to moan as the vacuum pressure sucked my breast deep into the cup, crushing it against the walls of the cup. He repeated the procedure with my right breast, and then stood back to allow the guests an unobstructed view.

My head was too tightly bound to allow me the luxury of looking down at my distended breasts, but from the sensations, my vivid imagination was sending express images of what it must look like.

"Slut, a tray please," Dr. Peters commanded.

Slut picked up a small stainless steel surgical try that had been set up with all of the supplies and instruments Dr. Peters would need. He began by pulling on a pair of surgical gloves, and washing my nose with alcohol and then Betadine solution. And then, taking a small marker pen, He marked both side of my nose, about half an inch back from my nostrils.

He stepped back to check the alignment of the marks. When He was satisfied that the marks were even, He picked up a long thin needle, and held it up for the guests to see. Then, He turned, and held it before my eyes, watching as the terror in them grew to a satisfactory level for Him.

"This is your wish, slave?"

"If it will please my Master, yes."

"It will please Me greatly," Sir Campbell answered.

I tried to hold by breath, to calm my racing heart, as Dr. Peters put the tip of the needle against the side of my nose and held it there, carefully aligning it with the marks. Then, ever so slowly and deliberately, He increased the pressure, forcing it through my nose. I was able to suppress my scream until the needle hit the septum, then I started screaming with all my might as I felt the crunch of the cartilage given way to the invading needle. When it passed through the septum, I couldn't tell that it had exited my left nostril as well.

I could feel blood dripping from my nose.

"The bar and clasp, slut."

Slut handed the surgical steel bar and clasp to Dr. Peters. He inserted the two ends of the clasp up inside my nose, and then he began to push the bar through the hole in my left nostril, taking care to line it up with the hole in the clasp, then through the septum, the clasp, and finally, out the other side. When it was in place, he took a small tube of blue Locktite from slut's hand and applied a drop to the threaded ends of the bar, He screwed on the barbells on to the bar, effectively locking it in place The effect was striking; with the bar and barbells protruding from the sides of my nose, I felt the 'U' clasp dangling through my nostrils from the bar to the top of my upper lip.

Tears ran from my eyes as a tremendous sense of pride washed over me. Steel was now in my body. For Him!

The guests all broke out in applause, which further fueled my elation.

"Slut," the doctor barked, "Remove the vacuum cups and get the next nigger size."

"Yes, Dr. Peters," she obediently answered, as she released the pressure valve on the cups and took them off. It had already become quite noticeable that my breasts had started being reshaped by the vacuum pumping. Slut placed a larger cup, which completely engulfed my naturally cone shaped tit, over it, and Dr. Peters attached the hose and started pumping. Quickly my breast was sucked up into the cup. Pulling it and contorting it as far as the malleable flesh would allow. I was moaning softly from the dull ache in my chest. Dr. Peters gave equal treatment to my other tit.

He gave a tug on the two cups, checking to see that they were firmly attached and stretching me to the limit, and ordered, "slut, another tray, please."

Slut got a second tray of instruments and held it for Him. Dr. Peters removed His gloves, and pulled on a fresh pair. He then prepped my clit with a wash of alcohol, and then Betadine, and picking up a pair of forceps and a thick needle, He knelt in front of my obscenely gapping sex. He gripped my clit with the forceps and pulled the sensitive organ down and away from my pussy as far as it would go. Then, with His free hand, He lined up the needle and drove it through the swollen bud, near the base. Instantly I cried out in pain.

Dr. Peters released the grip on the forceps and saw that the needle was now preventing my clit from retracting into it's usual 'safe haven.' "The ring, please."

Slut brought the tray nearer to Him, so that He could get the ring. It had a diameter of two inches and was made of the finest surgical steel. He pushed it through the hole, forcing the needle to back out simultaneously. Then He placed the locking ball in the ring, and was done.

The combination of the weight of the ring, and it's placement so near the base of my clit, caused my ever so delicate flesh to stretch taut, making it's presence all the more prominent.

Once again, Dr. Peters changed His gloves, and then He cleaned my labia with the alcohol and Betadine preps. He took a fresh pair of forceps from the tray, and clamped them to the thick outer lip of my labia. He clamped the other lip the same way, and took both sets of forceps in one hand, and stretches the lips down, away from me, at least two inches. I was moaning again, as I fought the urge to cry. With His other hand, He lined up the needle, and pushed it through both labial lips together.

I screamed like a wounded animal as the metal tore through me.

"The 'U' clasp, slut."

Once again, slut placed the proffered tray in His reach, and he picked up the clasp. He pulled the bar back so that the 'U' was supported on one side only. Then, He inserted it into the piercing, both lips, and slid it through the other side of the clasp. Using some more locktite and a locking cap, He screwed it tightly into place. When He let go of the clasp, I immediately felt the weight of the steel that pierced me, pulling my lips down.

Dr. Peters turned to the assemblage. "The breast bars are the most difficult to do properly, much trickier than the labial or clitoral piercings. Even trickier than the septum. Slave sara's owner wants the breast bars places as deeply as possible, close to the rib cage, in order that they may support her weight. That is the reason I have been suctioning her breasts. It should make it easier to pull them tightly and away from her as far as they can go, so that the skewers can be run through the base of the breasts.

"Slut, re-attach the pump and set it to the maximum pressure."

"Yes, Sir," she answered, reaching for the pump. She attached the hoses to the two suction cups and turned the pump to it's highest setting. By now, I was starting to cry uncontrollably, as my very tender mounds were sucked even deeper into the cups, distorting them and elongating my nipples to almost 3/4 of an inch. My breasts were a deep crimson now, highlighted by the dark blue veins which were bulging near the surface of the skin, menacingly, appearing like they were ready to burst.

"Pull on the cups, slut, as hard as you can. Try to pull them off."

Slut nodded, and began pulling on the cups. But, try as she may, they were firmly attached, and wouldn't budge. All she was able to do was add to the discomfort I was feeling.

"Will it be more painful for her if You leave the pump of longer, Doctor," Sir Campbell asked?"

"Most definitely," he replied. "They'll be even more engorged with blood. They've turned red already, as You can obviously see, and will go a deep crimson, and even become a dark purple if you wait long enough."

"Then I propose we retire for some refreshments, and return in what, say, half an hour?"

"She will most assuredly be purple by then," Dr. Peters confirmed.

"Very good, then," Mistress Ilsa announced, standing up. "I have pastries and coffee upstairs, we'll go relax for thirty or so minutes, and then finish the steel.

"Does anyone have any ideas as to how our slaves should amuse themselves in our absence," Sir Campbell asked rhetorically?

"How about having slut give them all a good whipping," a Mistress I didn't know chimed in. "Say five each, one after the other, in succession, not stopping until We return. Some of them could really use the color, I think."

"I agree," Sir Richard exclaimed, "a fine idea. Might You have a preference as to the implement uses?"

"How about a crop?"

"Slut, you heard Mistress Raven," Ilsa commanded. " Take a crop and give each slave five. One after the other. And don't stop until We return."

"Yes, Mistress," she meekly answered.

Mistress Ilsa, Sir Campbell and their guests left us alone, walking up the stairs from the dungeon. Slut went over to the rack that held the different whips and, selecting a red leather crop, she began whipping danielle's belly first. After she had given five lashes to danielle, she moved to the next hanging slave, a male, and gave him his due. And so it went, on down the line, until it was my turn. She approached the cross and looked up into my face. A sardonic smile greeted me as she prepared my first set of five strokes, hard, across my mons, just above the fresh labial piercing.

When she moved on to the other slaves, my mind would flood with worry over how much the steel rods going through my breasts would hurt. It had to be much worse than my clit or nose, I reasoned. It was going through the thickest part of the flesh, as close to the chest as possible, through about five inches of me!

But I wanted it so! It had become an all consuming passion for me to have my breasts pierced with steel rods. Mere nipple rings, no matter the gauge, wouldn't suffice. I had already tried them. They couldn't come close to the bold statement, the total commitment, the permanent disfigurement, that the bars would provide. The clitoral and labial piercings were thick, far thicker than usual, but even they weren't enough for me. I just had to have my breasts run through. I needed to feel the sharpened point ripping through that part of me that is the essence of femininity, the life sustaining suckling breasts. The smooth skin violently torn, as the steel spear invaded me.

Each time slut would come back and face me for my next five lashes, I would be deep in thought over what was going to be done to be very soon, and I would only come back to the present after the first stroke would hit me. But, soon after she would deliver the fifth lash, my mind would find it's way back again to thinking about what was coming.

Slut made it through all of us eight or nine times before my Master, Mistress Ilsa, and their guests could be heard coming down the stairs that led to us in the dungeon, to witness the final piercings I would receive.

Dr. Peters came over to me as slut replaced the crop on the rack, and tugged on one of the vacuum cups, saying, "See what I meant about the color? This dark color means that her tits are full of blood, and extremely sensitive right now. This will make her bleed more when I do the piercing.

"That's fine, Doctor," Sir Campbell remarked, as He looked at the threatening color my breasts had turned. "Let's proceed."

As Dr. Peters pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and started by splashing alcohol all over my breasts, He said, "slut, take the barbells out of her nipples and replace them with a strong set of rings."

I felt slut's cold fingers unscrewing the caps that held the barbells in me, and push a thicker set of rings in the holes. When she was done, Dr. Peters handed her a pair of chains, and said, "Clip these on the rings, and run them into the pulley. Put three pounds of weights at the end. I need her breasts pulled as far out as they will go." Then He throughly coated them both in three applications of betadine solution.

Slut ran the chain up onto the pulley, and started attaching the weights, pulling my breasts out from my chest. I squeezed my eyes tight as I felt the sharp point of the skewer touch my tightly drawn skin. I felt the pressure building and heard a 'pop' as it ruptured the skin of my breast. Slowly and deliberately, Dr. Peters pushed the skewer through my breast, making sure it was going straight through. I wrenched at the straps that held me to the cross, my screams filling the dungeon, trying futilely to free myself from the awful racking searing pain that was consuming me. Dr. Peters didn't stop pushing until the skewer had gone straight through me, and was protruding about two inches on the other side.

Dr. Peters pulled off His gloves and went for a glass of wine, waiting for me to regain some composure. It took me about five minutes before I had ceased my wailing and was breathing rapidly, but normally. When He felt I was ready, He put on a new pair of gloves and prepped my other breast in the same fashion.

I was biting my lip, tears falling from my eyes, and I could feel myself trembling in my bonds. I felt as if my breast was being ripped right off my chest. Then I felt that telltale point of the skewer against me, as He lined it up with the other one, ready to drive it through. The anticipation was too much for me, and I started screaming before He even started. The terrible burning pain stabbed through me, and I passed out.

When I came to, I was in a confused state of pain and pleasure. My breasts ached terribly, and were throbbing in rhythm to the pounding of my heart, which I could feel from my head to my feet. My nose was throbbing in unison with it as well, My labia didn't seem to hurt, but despite that, I was very aware of my clit. It felt warm and tingly, like it was being licked.

The straps that had bound my head and throat had been removed, so I timidly bent my head down to find slut on her knees, ministering to my pierced bud. I turned my head slightly to gaze at my breasts, and saw that the cruel skewers were still imbedded in me. I had expected to see a lot of blood, but was surprised to see only a few drops around the skewers on each side of my breasts.

"She's awake slut. You may stop," Ilsa ordered.

"Sir Campbell," Ilsa asked, "You wanted to place the iron in her?"

"Yes Ilsa. I do," He answered, rising from His seat, where He had been watching His new slave suffer for Him.

I felt a weak smile beginning to cross my face as the realization came that it would be my Master who would place the steel in my breasts, forever marking me as a slave, for Him.

Ever so gently, He cupped my right breast, and slid the 'U' clasp under it. Then, as Dr. Peters slowly backed the skewer out, Sir Campbell pushed the thick steel rod through, until it came through the clasp on the other side. I bit my lip as I felt the cold steel rod entering my breast forever. He put some Locktite on the rod, and locked the barbell on, screwing it tightly into place.

When He had repeated the task on my left breast, He took both of the 'U' clasps, and pulled them gently, until my eyes looked into His, and I softly whispered, "Thank You, Master. I wear this steel for You."

Sir Campbell kissed me softly on the mouth, and said, "you have been marked by Me as Mine, forever. The steel will never let you forget that."

Sir Campbell turned, and joining with Mistress Ilsa and the guests, they went back up stairs, as slut began to unchain the other slaves. Then , all the slaves took part in unfastening me from the cross, born as a new steel slave, and ministered to my wounds.