Paul slung his briefcase on the hotel bed. Another city, another hotel. Same ol' same ol'. He sighed, loosening his necktie. Check emails, shower, dinner then bed he thought.

Setting up the laptop on the dresser, he plugged it into the socket. He walked into the bathroom and started the shower running. Pouring himself a scotch and soda from the mini bar, he sat down to read his mail.

Most of it was routine, mundane office crap he mused. Whilst sipping his drink, the mail alert flashed up on screen and a new missive appeared. He stared in shock. He'd actually got a reply! Paul had spotted a personal advertisement in the paper a couple of days ago for a trainee slave. It had been hidden well down in amongst requests for hostesses and escorts and suchlike. Paul had pondered whether it was really advisable to answer it. In for a penny he thought. He'd always been interested in BDSM, had actually visited a couple of Mistresses over the years, but never had the time to find what he sought on a more permanent level. Seeing the advert had spurred him on. Now he had his chance.

The mail was short and to the point. It told him that if his desire was to get a cheap thrill and leave, then not to bother. However, if he genuinely wanted to become a slave, then he had to prepare and present himself as per the instructions contained in the mail.

Firstly, he had to give himself an enema. Then, shave his cock and ball area until there were no hairs left. Assuming he would have taken care of his general personal hygiene, he was then to cocktie himself as per the attached document detailing that procedure. At this, Paul studied the instructions. Satisfying himself he could follow them, he continued reading the mail.

Once he had completed his ablutions and cock tying, he was to dress in outer clothes only and present himself, at the address below, the following evening at 6pm sharp. If he arrived late he could just turn around and go back from whence he came.

Paul sat there, cock rock hard and throbbing. He knew he just HAD to check this out for himself. The steam from the bathroom seeped into his room, reminding him of his surroundings. He hurried to the bathroom to shower, his mind racing through all the preparations to make before tomorrow night, mentally making a note to purchase some decent cordage in the morning.

***********

At precisely 5.50pm the following evening, Paul sat in his car, his cock throbbing with excitement and restraining cords holding him erect. He could barely contain himself and shifted around to try and get a little comfort. He had allowed plenty of time to get there and had arrived some ten minutes early. Paul mentally ticked off all his preparations against the list of instructions and knew he had followed them to the letter. The minutes he sat waiting in his car seemed an eternity. At 5.58pm he got out of his car, locked the door and walked up the path.

Paul pressed the buzzer to the left of the door. A speaker crackled into life. "Yes?" it said.

"I am here in answer to an email I received" Paul's nervousness was betrayed by the waver in his voice.

"On time, good. When this door opens I expect to see a male staring at his shoes. If you raise your eyes, this meeting will be over. Clear?" A voice, clearly used to command, barked at him in response.

"Perfectly ma'am." Paul's nervousness increased as he imagined all sorts of horrors once that door had opened. He heard the catch click and the handle began to turn. Hurriedly, Paul stared at his shoes noting, distractedly, that he really needed new ones.

"Very good start. What is your name?" a female voice enquired.

"Paul ma'am."

"Come in. Once the door is closed, you are to strip and then kneel. At no time must you raise your eyes. I decide when you are allowed to look at me, not you. Do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am." Paul gulped. Upon entering, he followed the instructions given and knelt waiting. He sincerely hoped she would let him look soon. The anxious desperation to look up was intense.

As if reading his thoughts, a blindfold dropped over his eyes, completely obscuring his vision. Hands at his neck made him aware also of a collar being fastened. The leash clasped onto the D-ring at the front. Suddenly, Paul felt his cock-tie cord tugged. Hands again at his neck fastened the cordage to the same D-ring. Pulled taut, the cord held his cock upright and straining painfully. Paul now knew that every movement would be pure torture.

There was another tug on the leash. Paul dropped to all fours, aware of the fact that with his head held up by the leash, the cord attached to his cock and balls was even tighter. He began to follow the direction of the tugs, eager to release the pressure from his tortured genitals. Hands and knees sinking into plush carpeting, he had no idea where he was going.

With his eyes of no use, Paul's ears were attuned to a much higher degree. A whisper of wood across carpet fibre and he knew a door was being opened. A tug and Paul crawled through to the next room. But wait! Cold stone? His captor's heels clicked and clacked in front of him. Paul followed, only to find he was descending a flight of stairs. Only the sound of haunting classical music playing stopped Paul from thinking he was outside. He realised he was in some sort of basement so he followed blindly on, wondering if he was at all wise putting himself so far from the outside world. There was little he could do to change anything now even if he had wanted to, which he didn't. He realised with a start, that leaving had never entered his mind. He was captive in a stranger's house and loving every second.

Paul's captor tugged sharply, halting him. Footsteps walked around to the front of him. A pull on the leash had him lifting his head up and as he did, the tightness of the cock binding re-established itself in Paul's pain-filled consciousness. His cock throbbed mercilessly; he waited, taut as a bowstring, for he knew not what.

A step closer and Paul's face was buried deep into a warm wet opening, his nostrils filled with that musky scent known as Woman. Every other thought deserts him as instinctively Paul focuses on that scent; it is the reason he is who he is. He searches with his tongue for that bud, the one thing he craves beyond all else. His face is coated in her scent, her juices covering mouth, nose and chin as he pays homage to her. Then suddenly, she is gone.

Paul whimpered at this sudden loss. Tortured and aroused, he jumps as he is commanded to kneel. He rises from his position on all fours and sits on his heels. He realises that he can still catch her scent on his face. He inhales, holding her scent in his mind, knowing he will recognise her now, sighted or unsighted. She has marked him as her own.

She moves and his wrists are cuffed, the metal clasps clanking behind him. "UP!" Paul hastily gets to his feet at the barked command. Suddenly his ankles are kicked apart and a spreader bar is attached.

A clinking sound behind Paul puzzles him, then her footsteps move away and a soft whirring starts. Listening intently Paul becomes aware that the slack on the chain attached to his wrist cuffs is being taken up slowly. Paul is forced forwards as his wrists are raised behind him. The whirring stops. He has no choice; either he bends or the chain dislocates his shoulders. Knowing that now he is totally open to his captor, Paul blushes profusely.

Embarrassed beyond words, Paul hangs there not daring to contemplate what will happen next. He inhales. There! It's her scent again. She must be close! Nerves verging on hysteria, Paul sobs; his mind beyond terror now, just waiting...

"Now you are mine Paul" a soft whisper, then she is gone again.

Silence.

Not a sound.

Footsteps die away.

Paul hangs there, desolate in his bindings; aware only of being left.

******

Paul's head jerks up suddenly. Used to the inky blackness of his blindfold, every nerve ending is on full alert. He could swear he just felt a light tickle on the underside of his balls; just enough to make his balls twitch. Was it something? Was his mind beginning to fabricate things? With his nerves stretched to the limit, Paul could not be sure he didn't imagine it. Not knowing.... that was the thing. Hearing nothing, a whimper escaped his lips. This meeting is far exceeding his expectations. Paul mentally took his hat off to her. He hadn't been so tormented, so frightened yet so aroused ever before.

There it is again! That insinuation of a tickle, just at his anal opening this time. Paul jumped, yelping as the sharp movement tugged anew at his bindings, setting his cock on fire again. Sweat pouring off him from nervous expectation, Paul has no idea what to think – he can't be sure if he is feeling anything or not. His nerves tell him he can feel something yet his brain logically suggests it might be playing tricks on him.

White-hot fire explodes over Paul's nipples as both are clamped. "OW!" Paul yells out in surprise as he writhes in shock, trying to get away from such torture.

Feminine laughter, full of wanton power brings him up short, telling Paul that she didn't leave him at all. She was tormenting his mind as well as his body. A weight is attached to the chain linking the nipple clamps. Pulling Paul's nipples downwards, she sets the weight swinging, causing a rhythmic pulling on his clamps. Paul moaned, the pain intense; knowing that he also throbbed further down. Suddenly a soft hand caresses his buttocks diverting his tortured mind from the pain. Paul began to feel extremely light-headed as pleasure and pain began to merge.

A lone fingertip strokes down between his ass cheeks, circling his puckered opening. Trailing down, it stroked that taut skin between balls and anus, teasing, caressing. Paul's body had not envisaged such a sharp change from pain to pleasure, his breathing coming in gasps as his already hardened cock ached anew, the fingertip driving him to new heights of passion. "Ohhhh mistress" a long, drawn-out sigh escapes his lips as he gives himself up to the new sensations she bestows on him.

"You like that, my little slut, do you not?" Soft words croon in his ear, penetrating the pleasurable fog he has around him.

"Take me mistress, I am yours" Paul groans, barely recognising his own voice, all barriers down, just a bare need aching within him.

"Oh, all in good time, slut." Her footsteps guide him as she moves to stand before him once more. Slowly the blindfold is lifted and Paul's eyes become accustomed to the flickering candlelight in the room.

At once he remembers to look at the floor, desperate to at last see his captor, but knows in this vulnerable position he could suffer further torment.

"You may look Paul; you have pleased me greatly by remembering."

Paul's body was on fire yet he forgot all else as his eyes feasted upon her. Standing before him, clad in a deep purple velvet corset edged with lace, her voluptuous figure looked as if it might spill over the top should she move suddenly. Black stockings clung to her shapely legs, ending with dainty feet in stilettos Paul would have given a body part to kiss. Gazing upwards with some discomfort, given his torturous position, Paul at last saw the face of his tormentor.

Deep blue eyes regarded him, an eyebrow lifted as she looked down at him. Cherry red lips and a flawless complexion was framed by an elegantly coiffed strawberry-blonde head of hair.

"So now you know" Paul's mistress mused, smiling. Walking again, she moved to his side. Reaching under Paul's body, she circled the tip of his cock, catching the pre-cum leaking copiously. Hearing his sweet agonised moans sent a rush of juices to her pussy causing her to moan softly in response. Walking back to face Paul again, she began pleasuring herself, watching Paul's shocked face as he watched, unable to tear his gaze from her fingers. Paul inhaled her scent again as her fingers glistened with fresh juices. Holding them out to him she murmurs "Taste slut"

Moaning and barely able to reach, he stretches forwards; finally giving in to the fresh torment from the cocktie and swinging weight, just to taste her. Pleasure and pain again combined. Paul lapped furiously, not wanting to waste a drop.

"That's it slut. Work for it." Her soft voice crooned as she pleasured herself with her other hand. Grabbing his head as he finished licking, she thrust him hard against her pussy. Paul set to with gusto, lapping and teasing the clit that had tormented him throughout this entire encounter. Suddenly she cried out and climaxed, sending wave after wave of juice flooding over his face. Scarcely able to breathe every joint, limb and muscle in Paul's body crying for release, he knew he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Paul saw stars as his lungs screamed for air. Her hand still held him fast as she shuddered and writhed against him. Release from her vice-like grip set him swaying violently against the hoist chain. His arms felt like they were being torn from their sockets as Paul screamed in pain. She caught him, held him as he sobbed against her.

"There Paul, Sshh" she soothed, stroking his head. "It's ok, no more pain Paul; it's over sweeting." Slowly she began releasing clamps, chains and cuffs until Paul was free. He collapsed to the floor, chest heaving, and his mind awash with different sensations. His body, so long deprived of blood in many areas, stung as muscles began to refill. Moaning and gasping, he curled up into a ball at her feet.

Bending down, she snapped the leash back on his collar and said softly, "Come." Feeling the tug on the leash, Paul reluctantly rose and followed on all fours, not daring to trust his legs yet.

She led him to an antechamber within the basement. Switching on the light, this room was tastefully decorated in a modern style with a soft bed the centre of attention and a shower stall in one corner. Leading him to the shower, she removed the collar and leash from Paul and ushered him in. Turning on the water, Paul let the heat soak into his tired muscles.

Slowly normality returned. He began to soap his body, the water cascading over him in a powerful jet. His mind still jumbled, all he could think about was her voice, her scent, her touch searing into his very soul. As if reading his thoughts, her hands began soaping his back as she stepped into the shower behind him. Caressing his body, she let her hands explore every part of him. Paul's cock sprang up in quick response – he could not control it, nor did he want to; she had control now, totally. He moaned softly, his head resting against the cool tiles.

She chuckled throatily in his ear as she found his turgid reaction to her caresses, her full breasts and hard nipples pressing into his back. She took the length of him in her hand and began stroking him purposefully.

Giving himself up to the pleasure she was giving him, Paul felt the pressure start low in his balls, the sac tightening in preparation of an immense climax. "Mistress" he gasped, "I – I – don't think I will last"

Nibbling his ear, she whispered "Cum for me slut."

Thick ropes of cum spurted forth as all the pent-up emotions from earlier flooded his being. "Thank you mistress" Paul whispered gratefully, his legs turning to jelly once more.

Turning off the shower, this amazing mistress helped him out and into a warm towel, patting him dry and making sure of his recovery. Drying herself, she gave him a robe and took one for herself.

"Normally slut, you would bathe your mistress, but you showed remarkable forbearance today and pleased me greatly. Come, follow me." So saying, she turned and walked back into the dungeon. Motioning him to sit, she walked to a drawer. Opening it, she retrieved a compact metal object.

Standing before him she looked into his eyes. Paul inwardly quaked at that look but gazed up at her steadily. Seemingly satisfied, she began speaking.

"What transpired today has exceeded my expectations Paul. You responded well. I am therefore willing to take you as my trainee slave. If you decide to take on the training, you will accept any and all control by me. What is your decision?"

Paul sat and thought, his palms sweating. Excitement tinged with terror coursed through his body. He had never felt so alive or so fulfilled. He had no idea what to expect, except that it would be different from anything else he had ever experienced. Softly he replied. "Madame, you have shown me what a slut I can be; you have the power to control me whether I want it or not. I do want it, more than anything." Smiling shyly, he risked a quick look up at her.

"Good. You spoke well slave." Bending down she swiftly encased his now flaccid member in a curved metal chastity. Taking a small padlock, she closed the clasp with a definite click. "Welcome home Paul."