The Slave Returns: Marta

I was – once again – astonished by this man while he sobbed in my arms. I held him tightly, kept him deep inside me with my legs around his back, and smoothed his hair, whispering soothing words, and kissing him.

This poor man. He was, by any account, extraordinary, and had overcome enormous obstacles to become the man he had. Yet, along the way, no one had ever loved him, or cared if he healed.

I didn’t know if I was capable of loving him, or anyone, but if I could choose, I would choose to love him.

And that was a good enough place to start.

I said, gently, “James.”

He remained unmoving.

“Sir?”

He started at that, and looked at me. “What? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean…”

I interrupted him, “May I have my collar and cuffs back, please?”

He was silent a long time, then withdrew from me, and rolled over onto his back. I started to move down to lick his cock clean, but he stopped me, pulled me up to cuddle at his shoulder, and said, “Why, Marta? You are beautiful, brilliant, and someone I have read about and admired for years. Why would you want to be a slave? Why would you want to be my slave?”

I snuggled in close to him and said, “Because, none of that matters. You care for me, and you are the first person to care for me since my college roommate, Kelly, died.

“I want to wear your collar and cuffs, to be your slave, because it makes me feel safe. Because it makes me feel cared for! And that matters to me.”

I was silent for a time, then said, in a small voice, “If you won’t have me, you should know that I have been considering suicide for some time. I have been so lonely, so full of pain.”

He was quiet now. “Is that why you gave me the box of razor blades? To symbolically hand your life to me?”

“Yes, that. But also, to show that I won’t need to hurt myself if you will do it for me. I would rather that because I know you won’t harm me. I’m not sure I trust myself as much.”

There was a pause, and then he said, “I’m not worthy of what you’re asking me. I’m not a hero, I don’t come from anything. But I promise I will try to protect you.”

“And punish me…” I added, looking up into his eyes.

He looked at me and smiled. “That will be my pleasure.” Then he looked somber again. “But only for one month, on trial. All right?”

“All right. But why would you let me go?”

“Because it may be too heavy a burden for me. I don’t know that I can carry your life as well as my own.” He looked away. “I’m not sure I’m strong enough.”

I moved up and kissed his mouth. “My life was already too much of a burden for me. But I will help you with your burdens and you can help me with mine.” I smiled. “Perhaps together we can be strong enough. Deal?” And I offered my shoulder rather than my hand.

He laughed, then lifted his shoulder awkwardly and touched it to mine. “Deal.”

I scrambled up from the bed, hurried into the kitchen, and returned with the collar and cuffs on a tray that I found there. Kneeling down before him, I said, “Master, would you please take me as your slave again?”

He stood up, and I could see his penis hardening. “You will continue to call me Sir.” The iron had returned to his voice, “And what would you be willing to do for me if I take you back?”

Looking down I said, “Anything, Sir,” then, turning to look up directly into his eyes, “Anything you wish. Anything at all.” And I looked down again, holding the tray in front of me.

There was a lengthy silence. Then he sighed, and picked up the collar, gently passing it around my neck. I raised my chin to make it easier. He tightened it snugly, then put his little finger between the collar and my neck to check that it wasn’t too tight. Then he picked up the padlock and clicked it closed.

He reached down and tipped the tag up and said, “Tell me what it says, slave.”

“I am a slut, a cunt, and a cocksucker.”

“I’ll give you a chance to prove it in a moment.” By this time, his cock was stiffening again, and starting to cream, and I knew what was coming. I also knew that I was getting very wet, again, very quickly.

Next, he picked up the wrist cuffs, then gently but firmly attached each to my arms, clicking the padlocks shut. “Sit on the bed,” he ordered. I scrambled up, sat, and lifted my right leg.

He knelt down and fastened the cuff around my right ankle, padlocking it closed, then repeated the process on the left.

Once the lock clicked shut on the last cuff, a deep feeling of peace descended on me. It was as if he had shut out my world, and I was secure inside his.

He raised me from the bed, turned me around, and fastened my wrists together behind my back. Then, turning me back towards him, he pushed down on my shoulders, forcing me to my knees again in front of him.

“Now, slut,” he said, holding his cock to my mouth, “show me how you grateful you are to be my slave.”

Dress-up and Discipline: Sir

I let her suck my cock all on her own, not helping at all, and held off cumming again as long as I could to make it as difficult for her as possible.

“When I come, you will not swallow it until I allow you. Understand?”

She nodded, my cock deep in her mouth. She continued to bob, back and forth, and forcing herself down to gag about every 4th or 5th time. It was an uneven performance, but the thought of what she was doing was intensely exciting to me.

Finally, I came, with my cock jerking in her mouth, and cum filling it until some of it started leaking from the corners. I grabbed her head and held it still, my cock now being incredibly sensitive.

After a while, I was able to recover. I slipped my cock from her mouth, and wiped it back and forth across her face, then used her hair to dry it.

I told her lack of expertise in sucking cock needed to be remedied, but also complimented her on the feel of her mouth. She kept her mouth clamped shut.

“Show me.”

She opened her mouth to show that it was full of my cum. I put two fingers in her mouth, wet them with some of the cum, and wiped it on her face, then her tits, squeezing them both hard as I did, then gave her permission to swallow.

She gulped, then turned her head down and said, “I’m sorry I’m not a good cocksucker, Sir. I will get better. I love having you fuck my mouth, I love how your cock fills my mouth and throat, and makes me gag. Thank you, Sir.”

“Good girl,” I said, stroking her hair.

She shivered then, apparently pleased that she had pleased me, then bent forward and kissed my feet, and held her position with her forehead on the floor, hands locked behind her.

I lifted her up, unlocked her hands, and guided her to the living room sofa, spreading a towel on it before she sat down as she was still leaking cum, mine and hers. And I wanted it that way.

I told her she was to continue to play with herself, without cumming.

Then I went to wash and put on some clothes.

We spent the next hour mostly cuddling and making out. In particular, I spent a lot of time teasing her near to climax, then stopping. She was clearly frustrated and approaching the point where she would ask me to let her cum, even though she knew I would refuse.

And she smelled like cunt all the time. I loved it.

I, of course, had a rock-hard erection again by this time, but didn’t want to cum again as I wanted to save my climax for later.

We talked, even while we were making out, and again while we were eating lunch, and I enjoyed the conversations immensely. She is not only smarter than I am, which I find thrilling, but she was completely unafraid to challenge me.

Finally, at about 2 p.m., I turned to her and said, “I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight. Do you need anything to wear?”

She blinked, hesitated for a second, then said, “No, just a bit of a wash, and I’ll be ready to go.” And she pushed her tits out and held up her hands to showcase the cuffs.

I laughed, and said, “I’m almost tempted to take you up on that. But it’s much too good for the common folk. I guess we need to get you home so you can get dressed. Do you have a plan for that?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t think of anything beyond kneeling at your door. I was placing myself – and my future – entirely in your hands.”

I bowed my head. This woman scared me, as much for the faith she apparently placed in me. I decided I needed to keep things light.

“OK, then you go use the facilities – I’ll allow you to skip begging this time – and I’ll go find something for you to wear home. I’ll drive you.

“Oh, and you are not to wash your face or your hair. As my slut, I want you to wear my cum for everyone to see.” I put two fingers into her cunt, and painted her juices across her cheeks and forehead, finally holding them to her mouth. She blushed, then sucked my fingers clean.

We both got up for our respective tasks.

I headed into my bedroom, thought for a second, then decided.

I almost went with a trench coat I have, but came up with an even better idea. I pulled open a drawer and found some gym shorts, and a blank t-shirt then picked up a thick, felt-tipped marker from my desk.

Putting the t-shirt on the desk, I started to block out the letters for the message I wanted on the shirt. I was filling in the letters when she appeared at the door. I tossed the gym shorts to her, saying, “Here. Put these on.”

She paused for a second, then did. They were a bit big around the waist, because even though she’s slightly taller than I am, because she’s also very slender. I wonder if she ate at all, and resolved to fix that. “How do you adjust these?” she asked, holding the waistband away from her to show how much space there was.

I looked up at her, then picked up a pair of scissors, moved across the room, and said, “There’s a waist cord. Allow me.” I pulled the cord, cut it, then pulled the end so that it came completely out of the shorts, and tossed the cord in the waste bin. “There. That’s better.”

She would now have to hold them up all the time, or they would fall around her ankles. She looked at me, opened her mouth to speak, then stopped and shut it. Then she saw what I was writing on the t-shirt.

“I can’t wear that in public!” she said, shocked.

I looked at her until she dropped her eyes, then said, “You don’t have to.”

She looked up. “Do you have something else for me to wear?”

“No,” I said, and waited.

“Oh.”

I went back to filling in the letters. When I was done, I handed it to her. “Put it on.”

Reluctantly, she did, looking uncomfortable.

“Hmm,” I said, “Good, but not quite right. Stand still.”

I picked up the scissors again, then gathered the fabric of the t-shirt about two-thirds of the way down her tits, then started cutting it horizontally, going all the way around her, being careful not to cut her, but occasionally running the blunt edge of the scissors along her flesh. She shivered.

When I was done, the bottom half of the t-shirt fell to her ankles. The bottom bulge of her tits now peeped out from under the top of the t-shirt. I stood back and looked.

“Perfect. Take a look,” I commanded, gesturing towards the full-length mirror.

She slowly moved over to the mirror, looked up, then her eyes widened, she blushed deep red, and said, “This is worse than if I went naked.”

She was clutching a pair of shorts that were clearly too big for her, and that threatened to fall down at any moment. The ragged bottom edge of the t-shirt seemed to threaten to expose her nipples as well as the bottoms of her tits if she wasn’t extremely careful in how she moved, plus the words I had drawn on the t-shirt said, “I Swallow”.

You could see there was something dried on her face and hair. If you didn’t know, you wouldn’t know it was cum, but it drew the eye. And she still had on the dog collar, and the cuffs on her ankles and wrists.

“It’s your choice. Or rather, I will allow you to choose whether you wish to wear this, or go naked. Except for your collar and cuffs, of course. Those are non-negotiable.”

She looked down, then said, “Please…”

I looked at her, lifted her chin, and said, “Marta.”

She looked into my eyes.

“Marta, you can always use your safe word, any time you want. I will understand completely, and will never hold it against you. If you don’t want to go out naked, or wearing this, use your safe word, and you can wear the sweats you came in.”

She was silent for a moment, then knelt, cast her eyes down, and said, “Sir, please forgive me. Your slave has forgotten her place. I will wear whatever you feel is appropriate for me. I am a slut, and I do swallow. Forgive me.”

“Okay, I’ll forgive you this once. Any further intransigence will be punished harshly. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said in a meek voice, still on her knees.

“Stand up.”

She stood.

“Once we get you to your building, how do we get you into your condo?”

“I have a spare key hidden outside my condo, but I’ll need to get into the building. Will you drive me?”

“Yes.”

“Then we can go through the underground parking garage. It takes a passcode. You can drop me at the elevator there, but…”

“But…?”

She swallowed, “I’d be awfully nervous going up to my condo in the elevator alone dressed like this.” She looked down again, “Sir, would you escort me? Please?”

“Yes, of course.” She looked relieved.

****

James gave Marta some flip-flops for her feet, so she walked out of his condo wearing the shortened t-shirt, falling down gym shorts, and the flip flops – plus, of course, her collar and cuffs. Then, to make things even more difficult for her, once they were in the hall, he stopped her, took her hands, and clipped them together behind her back.

That caused her to lose her grip on the shorts, which fell to her ankles. After a moment, during which she panicked, he bent down, pulled them back up, and allowed her to grasp the back of the shorts in one of her hands.

The front dipped precariously, and her grip wasn’t secure with her hands bound together. As well, her t-shirt was now riding even higher, with the result that her nipples were briefly exposed with every step she took. She was humiliated – and immensely turned on by her momentary and continuing nakedness, and the feeling that at any moment she might be further exposed. She started breathing hard and a light sweat broke out on her forehead.

He took her arm, almost causing her to lose her grip on her shorts, then pushed the button for the elevator. She prayed there would be no one in it – then, when the doors started to open, she found herself hoping someone would be in it. There was a small moment of disappointment as the elevator turned out to be empty.

When the elevator doors opened to the basement, there was no one in sight. Sir walked her out of the elevator, holding her shorts up behind her back. He looked around, then dropped them so they were around her ankles.

“Walk to the car,” he ordered. She looked at him, then started shuffling along, only able to take small steps because her legs were hobbled by the shorts. It seemed to take forever to get to the car, and her ass and pussy were exposed the entire time. She was scared, embarrassed, – and wet.

He let go of her arm when they got to the car, and unlocked the door. “Step out of the shorts, and get in,” he ordered. She did, placing her bare ass on the cold, leather seat. “Bend forward,” he ordered.

When she did, he unclipped her hands, then said, “Sit on your hands so that the tips of your fingers are touching your pussy, and spread your legs wide,” which she did. He leaned in, dropped the shorts on the floor by her feet, pulled the seat belt down, and clipped it over her, then reached down and ran his finger gently up her cunt lips, parting them, and slowly massaging first her cunt, and then her clitoris. She leaned back and moaned.

He lifted the t-shirt, revealing her tits, then said, “Open your mouth.” When she did, he shoved the bottom of the t-shirt in and said, “Now, hold it there.”

She was now completely on display to anyone who happened to look into the car. He left the door open, walked around to his side, opened his door, got in, clipped his seatbelt, adjusted the mirror, and generally took his time getting settled.

A car door slammed in the distance, and Marta jumped. The t-shirt slipped from her mouth, and her hand darted out to pull her door closed. Then she stopped, realizing her mistake.

He glared at her. “If you don’t want to do as I command, I will clip your hands behind you around that pole over there, and leave you here.”

Then he waited. She was trembling by now, and scared – but also even wetter. She lifted the t-shirt back up and wedged it in her mouth, then put her hand back under her leg, and waited.

He looked hard at her for what seemed like an eternity, then finally sighed and said, “All right, close the door. But keep the shirt in your mouth.”

She reached out, closed the door, then put her hand back under her thigh.

He continued to stare at her. She looked down, and blushed, thoroughly humiliated by now.

“When the time is right, I am going to have to punish you, and I promise you, you won’t like it. But I want to take you out to supper and show you off, so it will have to be postponed – unless you are going to continue to disobey me, in which case, I’ll take you back to your building, dump you off in front, then drive away. So, once and for all: will you do as I say?”

She nodded.

With that, James started the car, and drove out of the garage.

“One more thing: I want you to play with yourself while I’m driving. You are to get as close as you can to cumming, but you are not to cum. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said mumbled in a small voice.

“Good girl. Get started. Use your left hand so that anyone looking in your window can see clearly what you are doing.”

She withdrew her left hand from underneath her, and started to rub her clit and finger her cunt.

It was only about a fifteen-minute drive to her building, but she wasn’t sure she could last without cumming for that time. She hadn’t cum since early this morning, and he had been teasing her mercilessly almost the entire time since then.

Meanwhile, her heart was in her throat every time they stopped for a STOP sign or a red light, worried that someone would look in and see her naked, and masturbating. Once they arrived, she wasn’t entirely sure whether she was pleased or disappointed it hadn’t happened.

Her Place: James

By the time we got to her condo, she was moaning, and couldn’t keep still as she fingered herself. I told her to stop, and give me directions. She swallowed hard, dropped the shirt out of her mouth, then directed me to the underground garage, and gave me the numeric passcode. I drove down into the garage, and pulled into a visitor’s spot, where we parked.

I turned to her, and said, “Pull your hand out of your cunt, slut, and let me see how wet you are.”

I noticed, as she withdrew her hand from her crotch, that it was shaking. I reached over, and put two fingers into her cunt. She was not only wet, but her cunt was hot and very inviting. I pulled my fingers out and offered them to her mouth. She immediately sucked them into her mouth and licked them with that soft, inviting tongue.

I swallowed hard, excited, then said, “Here’s what’s going to happen. First, put on the shorts.” She reached down put on and pulled up the shorts. “We’re going to walk to the elevator, take it to your floor, and then I’ll walk you to your door. Do you want me to cuff your hands behind you again?”

She stopped, and looked at me, “Uh…”

I waited. She swallowed, then said, “Please, Sir, yes.” And blushed.

I nodded. “When we get to your door, I will undo your hands, and unlock your collar and cuffs…”

She interrupted, “Please…”

I glared at her. “I will unlock your collar and cuffs and hand them to you. You will undoubtedly want to take a bath or a shower, and I want you to do so properly, comfortably, and without damaging the leather of your collar and cuffs. Understand me?”

She looked down, “Sir.”

“Before you get out of the shower, you will masturbate again, and come as close as you can to climaxing. But you are never again to cum without my express permission. Ever. Understood?”

She nodded.

“Once you towel your body dry, if you think I would agree that you came as close as possible to cumming, and only then, are you allowed to put your collar and cuffs on again.

“If you do not think I would approve of how you masturbated, you will not put on your collar and cuffs, but will give them to me when I pick you up tonight so that I will know that you have disappointed me. If that happens, you will pay a steep price. Got it?”

In a very small voice, she said, “Yes, Sir.”

“I want you to pick out whatever outfit you think I would approve of most. I want you to look as sluttish as possible, especially as you will be wearing my collar and cuffs.”

She nodded again.

“You are not to wear any other jewelry or adornments besides your collar and cuffs, and will wear no perfume. You can wear as much make-up as you like, remembering that I want your appearance to announce to me, and to everyone else, that you are a slut. And wear high heels, red, if you have them, but higher are better. No stockings – your legs are to be bare. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Okay, let’s go. Leave the flip-flops in the car.” And I opened the car door.

Teen Spirit: Marta

I struggled slightly to get out of the car. I was so turned on, breathing so hard, and so near cumming, that I felt dazed and disoriented.

He reached in and helped me up, then turned me around and clipped my hands together, allowing the shorts to fall back to my ankles. I shuddered slightly, torn between whether I wanted to cover myself, or be on display.

He reached down, pulled up the shorts, and held them in the small of my back while steadying me with his other hand. When I was finally able to walk properly, we moved slowly towards the elevator. He pushed the button.

When it chimed, and the doors opened, there was a middle-aged woman there who glanced at us, walked by – then stopped, and turned back, doing a double-take worthy of a Saturday morning cartoon.

Meanwhile, Sir walked me into the elevator, turned me around, then reached forward and pressed the button for the top floor. He smiled and waved to the woman, who was standing there with her mouth open, clearly shocked, as the doors closed.

“What floor do you live on?” he asked, casually, as if nothing had happened, holding his hand on my ass to keep the shorts part-way up.

I struggled to reply, then croaked, “Seven.”

He pushed seven as well as the button for already-pushed fifteen.

But when we reached the ground floor, the doors opened again, and a very tall, almost gangly, but pretty, young woman got in. She took one look at us, and said, “Oh-la-la! Someone’s been having a party!” Then she pushed the button for the ninth floor.

Once the doors closed, she turned to us and said, “Hey, are you guys doing BDSM play? I’ve read about shit like this, but haven’t been able to try it. Would it be okay if I asked some questions?”

Sir looked at her, and said, “Sure – as many as you want before we reach our floor.”

She looked crestfallen. “Oh, right.” Then she perked up, “Would it be okay if I gave you my phone number and you called me? I’m seriously interested!”

Sir looked at me, then said, “Your condo, your call.”

I looked at the girl. She was probably in her late teens, dressed fashionably for her age, and had an eager look on her face. I was astonished at her aplomb when faced with this situation. I nodded, all the while blushing furiously, seriously embarrassed to be looking like this in front of a stranger half my age, and found myself unable to speak. Yet, at the same time, I found it amazingly exciting. What was wrong with me, I wondered.

She immediately started rummaging through her purse, even as the elevator chimed for our floor and the doors opened. She was having trouble finding what she was looking for, so Sir moved me out of the elevator, and stood, blocking the doors to keep them from closing.

Finally, she said, “Damn, I can’t find any paper.” She frowned, then looked up and said, “Would it be okay if I slipped a note under your door? Please?”

I realized that she could wait and watch us to my door, so nodded. She was going to figure out where I lived anyway.

Then Sir said, “Yes, but only on one condition.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“You don’t talk about or tell anyone about this. Not your parents, not your BFF, not the kids at school – no one. One word about this to anyone and all communication ends. Got it?”

She shrugged, “Sure. I figured that out on my own.”

“By the way, how old are you?”

“I’m a senior in high school. I’m seventeen.” And she smiled. “That makes me legal if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“It was, yes. We’ll also want a photocopy of your driver’s license or similar government document that proves your age with your note. Got it?”

She straightened up, made a stern face, and snapped off a salute, “Yes, sir!” Then she smiled. “I get it. Thanks!”

We stepped out, and she stepped forward to blocked the doors from closing, then watched us walk down to my door. When we got there, Sir waved, and told her, “Go.”

So, she ducked back into the elevator, and the doors closed.

“Well that was – unexpected,” he commented. “Now, where is this hidden key?”

“May I have my hands free, please, Sir?”

He let go of the shorts, letting them fall to the floor, then unclipped my hands. I picked up the shorts, then retrieved the hidden key from behind a firehose in the hallway near my door, and handed it to Sir.

He took the key, and unlocked and opened the door, then handed me the key, and said, “Kiss me.”

I turned to him, holding the shorts in one hand, and started to kiss him. He drew back and said, “Both hands around my neck, please,“ and waited.

Finally, I understood, dropped the shorts around my ankles, put both hands around his neck, and kissed him. He pulled the t-shirt up so my tits were exposed, then fondled them while we stood in the corridor in front of my open door.

After a long time, we broke, and he said, “Whew! I’m looking forward to tonight!” I could feel, from the bulge in his pants, that he meant it.

I looked into his eyes, and softly repeated something I had said earlier, “Anything you want. Anything at all,” and kissed him again.

He broke, then turned me around, reached into his pants pocket to get the keys, then unlocked my collar, turned me back, and one-by-one, unlocked my cuffs, going down on one knee to do my ankles. He handed them to me, and said, “I expect to see these on you when I pick you up at 7:30 this evening. I want you to be looking like the slut that you are, understood?”

I cast my eyes down, and said, “Yes, Sir. I promise.”

He pulled the t-shirt over my head, picked up the shorts, leaving me naked, standing in the corridor, holding my collar and cuffs, when the elevator chimed and the doors opened. He grabbed my arm to prevent me from ducking into my condo.

The teenager came charging out of the elevator, sprinting down the corridor towards us, then came to a screeching halt when she saw us.

She gulped, then walked deliberately the rest of the way, handed an envelope to Sir, then looked at me for a second and said, “Oh my God, you’re hot!”, then ducked her head, turned and sprinted back towards the elevator, faster than she had come. When she pushed the button, the door opened immediately, and she ducked in, sticking a hand out to wave, and then was gone.

We looked at each other, and burst out laughing. Then Sir handed the envelope to me, kissed me, and said, “7:30. I’ll call, and you’ll come down and meet me at the front door,” then turned and left.

To be continued…

© Copyright, J.L. Gainsborough, November 2020.