Chapter 18

�Yes Sir.� She staggers out to the front hall, collects the items and returns to kneel at His feet, the chain and locks grasped firmly behind her back. She twists her body to offer the items to Him.

�No, I don’t think so, let’s find a more appropriate way, shall we.�

She thinks for a moment, drops the chain and locks on the floor, turns sideways to pickup the chain with her mouth and turns again to offer it to Him. Taking the chain, he says �I suppose that works well enough, somewhat inelegant though. What should you have done?�

�Your slavegirl should have thought to hook an open padlock onto each end of the chain and then carried the chain back from the front hall in her mouth.�

�Exactly right, my pretty; why didn’t you then?�

�Would Sir believe that His lovemaking has disconnected the higher brain functions of His adoring slavegirl?�

�Well, no, but it’s a good story, you stick with that.� He reaches for His keys, unlocks the padlock linking her wrists and refastens them with two feet of chain between the bangles. �There you go, my girl, carry on.�

She gets to her feet, steps through her chain, lifts it to her lips, kisses the middle of the chain then bends to unlace her spike heel sandals. With a gasp of relief, she eases them off her feet and stands to unhook her garter straps and roll the stockings down her legs.

�Feet a little sore, my dear?�

�Yes Sir, these are killers to wear for this long; it’s a good hurt though, wearing them to please a Master.�

�A good hurt. What an interesting concept. After we’ve had a shower, I’ll give them a rub.�

�Would you really, Sir?�

�Sure, they got hurt in the line of duty, so to speak, seems only reasonable to rub them better.�

�Oh Sir, your slavegirl is a very lucky girl!�

�Oh, I don’t know, I think its sort of a two way street, myself.�

�OH, what a lovely blush.�

�Sir is too kind to this unworthy slavegirl. Sir, may slavegirl be permitted to say that she loves her owner?�

�Loves, �owner, little� premature for that, don’t you think�it hasn’t even been a week, yet?�

�Sir, you have just given your slavegirl a lovely evening at the opera, a great dinner, transportation by Rolls Royce, the best lovemaking of her life and now you want to rub her feet? How lucky can a slavegirl get? She realizes she has much work to do to earn your love in return, but after everything you have given her these past few days, how could she help but fall in love with you. As far as owner goes, whatever happens from now on, you own her heart and mind, her body and soul, and will do until the day she dies, hopefully at the age of eighty, having just swallowed a mouthful of your semen.�

�We’ll talk about this anon; to the shower with you, my pretty!�

�Yes, darling Sir.�

He takes His time, as usual soaping her breasts, belly and ass and then puts her to work soaping Him. Once again she is allowed the delicious pleasure of rubbing her soapy body all over Him, or at least, as much as she can reach of Him, being denied the use of her hands. Only one problem, she can feel Him getting hard, can she take another orgasm tonight, after all the pleasure He’s given her already?



�Sir is particularly lustful tonight?�



�My pretty slavegirl is particularly delectable tonight; I’m still enjoying the sight of you walking up the grand staircase, hips swaying, ass bouncing, flashing bits of bare thigh�I believe that a goodly number of the older men in attendance were on the verge of heart attack. They’d have died with smiles on their faces, for sure. Of course, there were any number of the women tonight who’d have cheerfully assassinated you on the spot They’d have had to get past me to do it! Some of them were thinking of giving it a try. That’s why I have my seats in the balcony, some people from the local scene for mutual protection. Sometimes we need it; too, your outfit wasn’t all that outlandish by comparison with some of the getups I’ve seen. Not all from the BDSM scene, either, some of the local Goths like to show up and shock the blue rinse crowd. Now, let’s get some shampoo into that hair.

He spends twenty minutes or so soaping and washing her hair, keeping her ass in contact with His by now fully erect member and then pulls her under the showerhead to rinse off. In the interest of getting every last bit of soap off her body, His hands run caressingly from neck to thighs, spending, for some inexplicable reason, an inordinate amount of time on her pubes, grazing a nipple occasionally, with malice aforethought.

�Sir is arousing His helpless slavegirl all over again.�

�Are you complaining, my hot little wench?�

�Oh no, Sir, it’s only that your slavegirl has to get up in the morning.�

�I don’t think so, that would imply that you’re going to get to go to bed! Well actually, that’s a not unreasonable supposition. Sleep, on the other hand, is not on the menu for tonight.�

�Moan.�

�Oh come now, girl, it can’t have been all that long ago since you last pulled an alnighter cramming for exams?�

�This slavegirl never crammed, she was always on top of her schoolwork, going all the way back to grade one, Sir.�

�Well now you’ll get to see how most people got through school, be good for you.�

�May slavegirl be permitted to dry her torturer, now?�

�Seems fair enough, I’ve dried you, and what do you mean, torturer?�

�Sir has already worn-out this slavegirl, she doesn’t have the strength for more of Sir’s loving, please Sir, permit slavegirl to serve with her mouth?�

�Nonsense, girl, a good foot massage, some coffee, you’ll be good to go for hours more!�