At Her Command (4 page)

“I’ve prepared a slave contract. We’ll review
it after you change and bring me a glass of wine.” Nathan undressed
quickly, used the bathroom, and brushed his teeth. He carried
Bridget’s glass of white wine on a tray with crackers and cheese
and laid it on the coffee table. He dropped to his knees at her
feet. She handed him a document, folded in fourths, backed with a
sheet of heavy blue stock, a contract. His hands began to shake as
he read the text:

Of my own free will, I, Nathan A. Scott,
herein known as slave, hereby grant Bridget R. Kelly, herein known
as Mistress, full ownership, care and use my body, mind, income,
assets, and possessions. The slave will own nothing and will be the
sole property of Mistress for one year, as of the 23rd day of
August, 2013, at 8:00 pm, until 22nd day of January, 2014, at 8:00
pm.

The slave agrees to submit completely to the
Mistress in all ways. There are no boundaries of place, time, or
situation, in which the slave may willfully refuse to obey the
Mistress without risking punishment. The slave also agrees that,
once entered into this contract, his body belongs to the Mistress
to be used as she sees fit, within the guidelines defined herein.
All possessions likewise belonging to the slave, including all
assets, finances, and material goods, belong to the Mistress to do
with as she sees fit. The slave agrees to please the Mistress to
the best of his ability, in that he now exists solely for the
pleasure of said Mistress. The slave agrees to accept punishment by
the Mistress as she see fit...

Nathan took a deep breath and rested his bare
bottom on his feet. Nine weeks into life with Bridget, he was used
to kneeling. Nudity has become routine, as had orgasm denial and
complete servitude. So why did two sheets of paper have such an
impact on him, a simple document that merely stated the obvious? He
looked into Bridget’s blue eyes and shuddered. He wanted this. He
needed this. She was the first woman who had discovered what even
he didn’t know about himself. “May I use the pen, mistress?” She
handed him her four-hundred dollar tortoise shell rollerball pen.
He carefully signed above the word slave and handed it back to
Bridget. She signed and dated the contract and carried it to her
slant-lid mahogany secretary, placed it in a drawer and carried a
gift bag back to Nathan.

“There is a tradition in modern femdom, when
a man willingly submits to a woman and becomes her slave.” Nathan
stared up at her, like a dog at its master. She removed a black
leather collar from the bag and handed it to him. “Giving yourself
to become a slave is the greatest gift a human being can bestow on
another. You’ve signed the contract. This collar is a symbol of the
binding agreement. Your giving me the collar to restrain you
consummates it. Nathan’s hand trembled as he offered Bridget the
collar. He straightened his back and knelt upright as she buckled
the inch-wide, black leather band around his neck. She kissed his
cheek. His cock stiffened, jerking upright, the Prince Albert
piercing slapped against his belly.

Nathan’s cock throbbed as Bridget removed the
Steelheart chastity device from its case. Fear, self-loathing, and
erotic humiliation washed over him as he watched her inspect the
shiny stainless steel tube and ring. “Standup, slave,” she
whispered. Nathan rose and stepped close. “How are we ever going to
get that thing, in this tiny tube?” She looked up at him and
smiled, eyes twinkling. “Bring me some ice in a glass, slave.”
Nathan inhaled slowly, trying to lower his pounding heartbeat as he
filled a tumbler at the ice dispenser, knowing full well what
Bridget was about to do. He was nearly flaccid when he presented
himself to her, but she pressed two ice cubes against his hairless
scrotum anyway. He gasped and flinched as the cold spread through
him like a winter wind.

She deftly pressed his balls through the
retaining ring one at a time, then his limp penis, taking care with
his recently healed piercing. She studied the anti-pullout device,
oriented it, and slipped it through his captive bead piercing
jewelry. He gulped as she slipped the rounded stainless steel tube
over his penis, mated it with the retaining ring, and locked it.
“There,” Bridget tugged gently. “It’s all mine now. Only I decide
when you’re pleasured with it. “Get your leash. I hung it on the
hook in the closet. I’ll be using it more often now.” Nathan
retrieved the collar and knelt at Bridget’s feet as she attached
it. He crawled beside her, up the stairs to her room, heart
pounding in his chest.

“You may undress me, slave.” She stepped out
of her five-inch black pumps and acted disinterested as he
carefully unbuttoned her white blouse and unzipped her black wool
skirt. He put the blouse in the hamper and laid the skirt on the
chair. He slid her slip down and knelt as she stepped out of it,
longing to caress and kiss her legs, the way a man in the desert
longs for water. She arched her back slightly as he unclasped her
black lace bra, and shifted her weight from leg to leg as he
removed her panties, staring at her firm plum bottom, remembering
when he had been allowed to kiss and worship it.

“Now that you’re in permanent chastity slave,
you may worship my ass.” Nathan’s heart raced as he parted her
buttocks and pressed his lips to her skin, breathing in her dusky
scent, relishing it with a mixture of lust and longing. His cock
pressed against hard steel that wouldn’t give. His balls felt like
they might burst.

She pulled free and opened a dresser drawer.
He tried to read the writing on the package, but it was too small
and the light too dim. It looked like a curved plug, the diameter
of a man’s thumb, and perhaps five inches long. The curved handle
reminded him of the treble clef symbol. “What’s that, mistress?”
She opened the package and held it up for him to view.

“It’s a prostate massager.” His anus tensed
as she inspected the white plastic plug. “I’ve been reading a lot
about men’s prostate glands.” She met his gaze. Chills ran up his
back as he looked into her sparkling blue eyes. “A man must either
orgasm or be milked three to five times a week to stay healthy.”
She looked down at his Steelheart. “I was wondering how we were
going to accomplish that since you won’t be having intercourse.”
Nathan felt his face and shoulders flush hot as his abdominal
muscles tightened.

“You’ll wear this every evening. It will
provide continuous prostate stimulation. I’ll supplement that with
digital massage, or a strap-on.” She smiled. “Have you ever
wondered how it would feel for me to fuck you like a woman?” She
methodically rubbed lube over the plug and down to the base of the
handle. “Lean over the bed and spread your buttocks, slave.” As
Nathan held his breath, naked and ashamed, holding his buttocks
apart and waiting for her to impale him, he realized he was no
longer
Nathan
or
darling
to her. She called him
slave
, as if he didn’t have a name. He let out a gasp as the
cool plastic plug entered his anus. He flexed his anus as the
handle came to rest flat between his cheeks.

“You may worship my feet now, slave.” He
knelt beside the bed, barely breathing as he waited for her to
present a foot. Each time his anus flexed, the Steelworks twitched
up and down. Energy flowed from his belly into his legs at first,
and then rose into his chest. He realized that his nipples, anus,
and cock were wired in a circuit as his body came alive. The
prostate massager in his anus had his nipples buzzing and his caged
penis twitching and pressing hard against the Steelheart device, in
a futile attempt at an erection.

Nathan stared, transfixed as he brought
Bridget’s toes to his lips, and breathed in the sweet smell of her
skin. He took her great toe between his lips and caressed it with
his tongue. Goosebumps rose on her supple skin and bloomed across
her trim calf. Bridget sighed as he licked the bottom of her foot,
relishing the contrast between the hard skin and the supple skin of
her toes and upper foot.

Bridget pulled back. “I said you could
worship my ass. How long since your last orgasm?”

“Nine weeks and four days, mistress.” She
slid off the bed and walked around him. He craned his neck to watch
her lithe, nude body as his anus flexed around the prostate
massager.

“I think you’ve earned an orgasm, slave.”
Bridget held up the key. “Stand up and come here.” Nathan leaned on
the bed and got to his feet. He stood in front of her as she sat in
a wingback chair. He looked away as she slid the key into the
special lock and rotated the cylinder. She gently pulled the shiny
steel cylinder off his penis, and pulled the anti-pullout piece off
its pins, then removed it from his Prince Albert. His cock
stiffened like a balloon filling with air. His anus reflexively
clenched the prostate massager as if it had a mind of its own.

“Don’t touch it, Nathan. It is forbidden.”
She took a pair of ballistic nylon restraints from the bottom
drawer. Pressing her firm breasts against him, she cinched them
around his arms, just above his elbows. She connected them behind
his back with a strap. With his elbows pinned to his sides, Nathan
couldn’t reach his throbbing cock if he wanted to. She tore open a
condom. Nathan’s heart began to pound, wondering if they were going
to have intercourse.

Bridget rolled the condom over Nathan’s
stiff, throbbing cock as his anus tightened. She squirted lube in
her hand and rubbed it over the swollen condom. “No coming until I
say so,” she whispered as Nathan twisted and turned like a man
possessed. She edged him to the point of orgasm and squeezed him,
causing him to cry out. She edged him fours times over the next
five minutes, until he was covered in sweat and panting. She
reached between his legs with her other hand grasped the S-shaped
handle of the prostate massager and began to push and pull, timing
her strokes with masturbating.

“You may come, slave,” she whispered. Nathan
started to double-over, as semen spurted from his body in waves.
His anus and nipples felt electric, as cum gushed into the condom,
distending it. Bridget caught him before he fell and lowered him
onto the bed on his back. He lay there panting, totally spent. She
lay next to him, caressing his chest and belly as he caught his
breath. Nathan stared at the ceiling as she slipped the condom off
his flaccid penis. “Open up.” She held the condom over his face.
“Open your mouth, slave.” Nathan opened his mouth as she ran her
fingers down the latex condom. He gagged as his own semen dribbled
into his mouth.

“Get used to it, slave. You’ll be swallowing
a lot of cum when I entertain.” The salty taste of the thick, warm
fluid permeated his mouth and nostrils, as her blue eyes sparkled
with delight.

*****

Nathan stepped out of his car as the valet
opened Bridget’s door. They walked into the swank hotel to attend
the Bar Association’s Christmas Gala. They followed the men in
black tuxedos and women in expensive formal dresses through the
hotel lobby and into the ballroom. Bridget’s red strapless gown
accented her perfect skin and coal black hair. She wore her hair
up, revealing the graceful elegance of her neck. They’d become the
talk of the Federal Courthouse, the consummate D.C. power couple,
two good looking high-powered attorneys, combatants in the
courtroom, lovers at closing time-- at least that’s what they
thought.

Nathan’s anus reflexively flexed around the
steel butt plug she made him wear every day now. His penis twitched
in its steel cage. Celibate for over ten weeks, he’d gradually
fallen into a constant state of sexual longing, his only release
being when she masturbated him. Bridget seemed to become more and
more beautiful, as power flowed from Nathan to her, as if she was a
vampire sucking his lifeblood. But Nathan was very much alive...
like a man dying a slow death of starvation, constantly longing,
constantly craving what he cannot have. But he was helpless to
escape, helpless to deny her anything she wanted. He’d gladly give
her his life if she wanted it-- perhaps he already had.

Bridget shamelessly flirted with all the men
in front of their wives; judges, attorneys, doctors, politicians.
Their tanning salon browned, jowly faces all broke into the same
dumb, schoolboy grin, as she coyly lavished praise and admiration
on them, while their wives and girlfriends stood by stone-faced and
mute, at a slow boil. With Nathan in tow, she made the rounds,
heaping on praise and faux kisses to some of the most powerful men
in Washington. Cocktails were followed by dinner, more cocktails,
and a couple of boring speeches. Bridget touched Nathan’s arm as
the senator from a large, very blue state summed up his speech with
his party’s unwavering support of the Trail Lawyers Association’s
efforts to block tort reform.

“See that man over there?” Nathan spotted a
young man standing by the door in a wait-staff uniform. He was
tall, lean, and broad-shouldered. He might have been a pro baseball
player from Cuba or Venezuela, with smooth, café au lait skin, and
short dark hair. She handed Nathan a business card. “On your way to
the men’s room, hand him this.” Nathan turned over her business
card. He read her perfect script and flushed hot.
I want to show
you a good time tonight. Call me when you get off work. B
.

He met her gaze, and felt his stomach turn as
he looked into her clear blue eyes. She silently mouthed the word
NOW. Nathan pushed back from the table and walked to the exit. “Can
I help you, sir?” the man had a slight Spanish accent. Nathan
handed the man the card. He read and reread the back. He gave
Nathan a dark stare.

“The blond in the red dress,” he
whispered.

“You her husband, man?”

“No.” Nathan slipped past him and entered the
men’s room. He glanced under the stalls. Seeing no one, he entered
the last stall, removed his tux jacket and cumber bun, and lowered
is black tux pants. He’s gotten used to urinating sitting down. The
Steelheart made urinating while standing impossible. She’d created
the perfect storm, flirting with other men as he stood by; mute as
a statue. Now she was openly cuckolding him, withholding her body,
denying him orgasm, and giving herself to a complete stranger. He
dabbed the stainless steel prison with tissue and flushed.