Abigail's Abduction

I could scarcely believe what I was hearing.Me, a submissive – and Sarah, my so-called friend, discussing me with strangers. I stifled a protest, remembering what he had said about interruptions. He saw my mouth opening and closing, and held up his hand.

'You must search your mind, Abigail, and see if it isn't true that your real wish is to be dominated, to be humiliated, even tortured, by your master. Dwell, if you would, for one moment, on an image. This image is of you, you, Abigail, tied naked to a post, being whipped, flogged cruelly, raising red welts on your pale flesh. What effect does that image have on you?'

I was unaware of the dichotomy of my response. 'It's revolting,' I said, but my voice wavered, and as he had painted the picture in words, my mouth had fallen open, and I had squirmed, my legs rubbing together unbidden as moisture welled up in my pussy.

'Right,' he continued, as if I hadn't commented, 'my proposal is simple enough. You stay here with me as my slave. You will have no onerous duties, as all housework is carried out by Ana and another girl you haven't yet met, Clara. You must decide now whether you will accept my conditions or not. If not, you are, of course, free to leave. If you elect to stay, you will become effectively my possession, for a minimum period of six months.'

'But what are your conditions?' I asked.

'I have them written down here. Please read and, when you have done so and are prepared to either sign or reject them, ring and call for Ana.' He indicated a bell-push I hadn't seen before, beside the window, passed me a typewritten sheet and a pen, and left me with it, more than a little shocked. I read:-

CONDITIONS FOR ABIGAIL

1. You will be the possession of the Master, who will do with you as he pleases, loaning you to whomsoever he wishes, whenever he wishes.

2. You will always address him as 'Master' or 'Sir' and never look directly into his face unless so instructed.

3. Your body must be kept completely devoid of hair at all times.

4. You will wear only the clothing which is provided in your room.

5. When the Master returns home from any journey, you will greet him at once dressed in a transparent gown, your ankles shackled.

6. You will undergo 'special training' to enlarge your anal passage and ensure your Master's pleasure.

7. You will consent to be whipped at least twice a week, at your Master's request.

8. Your Master may wish to have your body permanently marked in some way. You will consent to this.

I agree to the above conditions, signed:.........................................(Abigail Trent)

I read it through twice and shook my head in disbelief. Wow! What was I letting myself in for? But then, I realised I was really going to sign! I was. The truth was, I was damp again just reading the conditions. I scrawled my signature and rang for Ana, who quickly appeared, smiled at me knowingly and scurried off with the paper.

Minutes later she was back, and said, 'Come on, I've got to help prepare you for the Master.'

She pulled me gently into the bathroom, and helped me off with my negligee and nightdress, then told me to take out the ear-rings I still wore from last night. She got the shower running for me and I climbed into the cubicle to enjoy the hot jets playing all over me, only to find that Ana had suddenly joined me and was soaping me thoroughly, her nice, tight young body slippery against me. It was a lovely feeling.

'I could get used to this,' I told her.

'Mmmm,' she replied, rubbing her firm breasts against my back, 'I'm glad you consented to stay, though I'll hate to see you whipped.'

'Is it so bad?' I asked.

'He'll hurt you,' she said, 'but maybe that's what you want?'

'Maybe,' I agreed. We left it at that – I really didn't know what I'd let myself in for, and preferred not to think about it. I only knew that the thought of life as a 'slave' to Bruno excited me beyond belief.

'I've got instructions to shave you,' Ana was saying, as I dried myself, and I submitted meekly enough as she lathered my pubes, while I sat on a plastic stool, and took infinite care in taking off every vestige of hair, asking me to lift my legs up so that she could work her way all around my labia, right back through my crack to my anus, finally removing all the tiny hairs that grew around my little puckered arsehole. As she did so, she poked the tip of her finger into the very start of my anus, and said, 'My God, Abigail, you're so tight – you're an ass-virgin, right?'

'I've never had anal sex, if that's what you mean,' I said, stuffily – I knew very well what she meant.

'I'll get you a little plug, if you like,' she said, 'it'll make it better later.'

I nodded yes, while Ana smoothed oil around my pussy and on my mons. It actually felt rather nice to be clean-shaven, I had to admit, but I knew I should have to maintain myself like that, as any growth of stubble would be intolerable.

Ana wanted to show me my wardrobe, and I let her get dressed while I dried my hair.

I was staggered by the quantity and variety of clothes all neatly arrayed on hangers – evening gowns at one end, many of which appeared to be at least partly transparent, whilst at the other end were day-outfits, dresses, skirts and blouses. Below were shoes, all of them with ultra-high heels. I opened a big drawer, and found several corsets and garter belts, together with packets containing stockings. There were also two bras, both platform types, designed to leave nipples exposed.

'There are no panties,' said Ana, 'because they are prohibited – for us too!' To emphasise the point, she lifted her short skirt, and I saw that she was, indeed, naked under it.

'I've been instructed to dress you now,' Ana said, 'the Master wants to take you out to lunch.'

I was faintly amused at the idea of 'being dressed' – I had always managed perfectly well by myself – but didn't have much option now that I had signed, so let Ana pick out the clothing and accessories I was to wear.

'The Master particularly asked that you wear a corset today,' she said, and had me stand in front of the mirror and button a whaleboned black corset up the front. It fit very snugly, my breasts resting on top of the lacy frill which formed its upper edge, its bottom cut high in the back, so that my buttocks were totally exposed, long garter straps hanging down my legs. But just when I thought it was a comfortable fit, Ana came around behind me and tugged hard on the laces which tightened the garment fiercely around me, cinching my waist to tiny proportions, and causing me to gasp out loud as she tied it off. The tightness also had the effect of thrusting out my buttocks and pushing up my small breasts. Ana had found me a long sleeved black nylon blouse, which buttoned up the back, and was completely transparent, so that my nipples could just be seen as they poked through the lace at the to of my corset. She rolled a pair of seamed black stockings up my slender legs, and had me step into a very tight, knee-length satin skirt, which so restricted my movements that I had difficulty in walking. She completed my outfit with a pair of extremely high patent leather heels, and helped me put in some very long, heavy silver ear-rings.

'Your first time in restraint clothes?' asked Ana.

'Yes,' I replied.

'You look nice,' she said, 'come on!'

She led me downstairs – I was mincing along in my extra-tight skirt, a touch uncertain on the heels too, so that I practically ran into Bruno in the entrance hall, where he was waiting for me.

'Oh,' I said, and he smiled as he looked me up and down. 'Very nice,' he said, 'just one more thing, for now.' He took from the pocket of his velvet jacket a beautiful, diamante-studded silver collar, with a thick silver ring set in it, and put it around my neck, fastening it at the back. It was a perfect fit.

'That is a symbol of my ownership of you, my dear, and you may not remove it at any time, is that understood?'

'Yes,' I replied.

'Yes,master,' he corrected.

'Yes, master.'

'Right,' he said, 'now we're going to lunch; come along.'

He led me outside, and got into a different car, a big SUV. Bruno explained: 'Although I can be cruel, as you will no doubt discover, I am also considerate, and I thought the Ferrari would be uncomfortable for you, dressed as you are.'

'Thank you, Master,' I said, humbly.

He drove for no more than ten minutes and we pulled up outside a Country Club, parking alongside an array of expensive cars. Again the perfect gentleman, he helped me out, and escorted me in to the stately entrance, where a maitre d' met us an led us to a table, where another couple was already installed. A more ill-assorted pair it would have been hard to find. She might have been a fashion model, blonde and willowy, with an aristocratic air, wearing a silk dress which gave an ample display of her perfect cleavage. He was like the 'missing link' – hairy to the point of repulsiveness, overweight and altogether gross – and, when he spoke, his voice grated on me horribly. A more revolting human being I had yet to meet.

'This is Marcus, and his wife Jane,' said Bruno, 'Jane likes me to fuck her from time to time, don't you, darling?'

'Yes, you ravishing man,' said Jane, and Marcus doesn't mind, if you lend him your latest slave. Who is this lovely creature, may I ask?'

'This is Abigail,' he said, 'and I haven't yet had time to train her, so you'll need to be careful with her, Marcus.'

Marcus laughed, a horrible, guttural chortle, and when he kissed my cheek, his ample black stubble grazed my flesh repulsively.

We all sat down to a delicious meal, spoiled for me not only by the acute discomfort I was feeling from the restriction of my clothing, but by the feel of the gorilla Marcus' eyes boring into me, greedily taking in my nipples, which peeked coquettishly through the lace top of my corset. I was also conscious that Bruno was busily fondling Jane under the tablecloth, and drawing faint gasps from her as his hand reached the top of her slender thigh.

When we had finished, we were invited to Marcus' service apartment, which was on the premises of the club itself, and the last word in luxury. We were soon installed in a huge lounge, Bruno and Jane holding hands on a long low couch, whilst I tried to shrink from our host on a big sofa, and get as far away as possible. When a maid had brought us drinks, however, Bruno called to me; 'Behave yourself, Abigail – do you think I have brought you here to play games? Take your skirt off – now!'

His tone brooked no disagreement, so I tood up, and unzipped my skirt, and wriggled out of it, stepping out of the satin pool it made on the parquet floor, and feeling more naked than I had ever felt in my life, displaying my shaven pubis in front of not only my new master, but these two strangers. And I refused to believe that the hirsute brute sat watching me intently was actually going to fuck me.

What happened next surprised me. Jane, whose lovely breasts were now uncovered, as Bruno was kneading them, teasing her nipples to erection, said to me, 'Take off your blouse, then sit back on the sofa, darling, will you? I'd like to see you masturbate.'

I looked at her for a moment, then unfastened my blouse and slipped it off. I was now naked except for the corset, stockings and heels. I did as she said, but hesitated before letting my hands go to work in my pussy.

'What are you waiting for?' asked Bruno, 'you heard the lady!'

'Yes, sir!' I said, and spreading my labia with two fingers of one hand, I sought my clitoris with the other, the unaccustomed length of my nails grazing it into life and causing me to suck in breath sharply. As my clit burgeoned nd grew, I lost myself, as I always did when I masturbated, and soon was plunging two fingers deep into my wet cunt, already moist before I started, after the excitement of the restraint clothing and the nearness of my master. My breath now came in ragged gusts, as I neared a throbbing climax, and I saw that Bruno was now kneeling on the floor between Jane's legs, his cock – MY cock! – spearing her arsehole, whilst Marcus had dropped to his knees in front of me and watched my fingers working at close quarters as I was finally overcome by a shuddering orgasm, and squirted my vaginal fluid liberally over him, causing him to laugh his horrid, gurgling laugh.

If I had thought I should have time to lay back and recover, I needed to revise my thoughts, as I realised to my horror that Marcus had his trousers open, and, in his hairy hand, he held the biggest prick in creation! It must have been close to a foot long, and as thick as my wrist, sprouting from a dense forest of black hair which covered a pair of prodigious balls.

He shoved me back on the sofa, clambered up between my legs, and I felt my poor cunt being stretched as if I were having a baby in reverse. Somehow he got the dreadful shaft inside me, and I screamed with the pain, feeling sure he as tearing me as he pounded, animal roars coming from down in his throat. Thankfully he couldn't last long, and stiffened suddenly as he roared even louder, and released a flow like hot volcanic lava, which seemed to fill me to bursting. I squirmed out from under him as he laughed his awful laugh once again.

On the way home, Bruno saw I was crying, stopped the car, and cradled me in his arms.

'Just a start to your training, my dear,' he said, 'and you did well.'

'But he was so horrible!' I wailed

'I'll overlook the fact that you are talking about my friend, Abigail,' he said, 'just bear in mind that he spared your anus – for that you should be grateful.'

'But...but, Br..er...Master, I couldn't take him there, not possibly!'

'I know, my dear, and I've told Ana to start work on you this very afternoon.'

'But, Master, won't it hurt terribly?'

'No, only a little at first, but then you will know true pleasure, and give me much pleasure too.'

We were drawing up outside the house by this time, and Bruno dismissed me: 'Go now, and sleep for a while. I'll send Ana to you in a couple of hours.'

It was a blessed relief to shed all my restrictive clothes, and climb naked into bed, my pussy till throbbing from the pounding it had had from Marcus' enormous tool.

What seemed like two minutes later, Ana woke me up from a deep sleep. I had been dreading the moment, my anus always a sensitive spot, and I had never really understood why people enjoyed anal sex.

But I had to be resigned to this, I knew, and tried to steel myself when Ana showed me the plug she had brought for me. It was a smooth black plastic cone, the size, I supposed, of a small carrot, with a wide square flange at the wide end, whose width I could scarcely believe would fit where she proposed to put it. Ana, though, was sweet, and showed me how she was smearing the plug liberally from a tube of KY jelly, before telling me to get onto my knees and spread my cheeks as wide as I could. My position felt terribly vulnerable as Ana now smeared some more jelly around my little puckered hole, tutting, presumably at its tiny dimension.

'I'm going to hurt you a little now, Abigail, but you know I have to, don't you?' she said, and I nodded. She prodded tentatively at my anus with the greasy tip of the plug, and wriggled it gently around until it had worked its way just a few centimetres into the very portals of my back passage. Then she pushed harder, and I grunted as the increased width of the cone forced its way into me and brought the first tears to my eyes.

'Oh, Ana, that hurts!' I complained, then she gave me all the more reason for complaint as she quite suddenly thrust the whole length of the terrible plug in, in, past my protesting sphincter, and I moaned loudly as an altogether new sensation wracked my body – and it wasn't all pain. Some pleasure surprisingly seemed to mingle in with the agony the plug brought as it invaded my velvet passage, and Ana kissed me deeply, knowing what was happening to me.

'You see, it's not all bad, is it?' she said.

'It fucking hurts,' I said tearfully, but she knew, she knew.

We lay together for some time, and Ana explained that Bruno wanted me to wear the plug full time for at least two days, when it would have to be changed for a bigger one, or, she said, maybe a 'set of balls.'

I asked Ana what her relationship with Bruno was, and she told me she was merely a servant, like Clara, who I still hadn't met, and not a slave.

'But doesn't he fuck you?' I asked her.

'Oh yes, sometimes,' she said, 'and Clara to, but we are never punished and never taken out with him, and we are always in uniform. You will have lots more privileges.'

I wasn't so sure – it just seemed such a totally unreal situation into which I had blundered, that I felt like some sort of erotic 'Alice.'

Feeling very awkward with the great plug in my arsehole, I showered, brushed my hair, and made up carefully, then spent a long time selecting a gown for dinner.

After much deliberation, I chose a long sheath of black lace, with long sleeves, which would have covered me modestly had it not been completely transparent. Before I slipped into it, I took time to rouge my nipples, so that they would be seen through the lace, and hung a heavy silver chain loosely about my waist. That too could be seen clearly through the flimsy material. I still hadn't got used to my shaven pubes, and felt doubly naked as I stepped into extra-high stilettos and tottered downstairs to dinner. I was desperate to make a good impression on my Master now – since my arrival, he had allowed me the privilege of giving him a blow-job; meanwhile he had fucked the lovely Jane right in front of me, and I had learned that he was not averse to shagging the servants, either.

But when I entered the dining room, dressed in a formal white jacket and black tie, I knew I wanted him, wanted his body, wanted him to do with me whatever he wanted – he could kill me if he so pleased. As I stood, mesmerised by his elegance, and him unaware of my presence, a tall jet-black girl with long, straightened hair came in and started laying the table, her short uniform skirt riding up so that the dusky flesh above her snow-white stockings was visible. Bruno turned to her, took two strides towards her, and fetched her a playful slap on the arse.

'Oh, sir!' she said, and skipped out of his reach. It was then that he realised that I had appeared, and started almost guiltily.

'Ah, Abigail, my dear, you look quite stunning. You must meet Clara, who would love to change places with you – wouldn't you, Clara?' he teased the black girl.

'Oh yes, sir,' she said.

'Well, we'll just have to see. One day I may need another slave – who knows? Now go and get us some dinner, there's a good girl!'

He turned to me, 'I like to keep my servants in hopeful anticipation. It keeps them on their toes. Now how does your plug feel?' He changed the subject and asked me such a delicate question as easily as if he were enquiring after a cut finger, and I coloured up as I told him that it had hurt a bit, but that I could stand it.

We dined companionably, like man and wife, I thought, until, as we took coffee, Bruno turned to me and said, 'I've given you an easy introduction today, my dear, but your appearance excites me, and you have signed my document, which tells me that you are prepared for what I have in store for you. I have before me an image of you bound and in pain – pleasures which I believe you are eager to share with me, is that not so?'

'You can do with me as you please, Master,' I told him. I could sense that he was enjoying the anticipation of what he planned to do to me already, and, to be honest, moisture was welling up in my pussy as I saw myself in chains, and, above all, being whipped like the slave-girl I had really become.