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The Perfect Slave


My house. 20:30. Wear nothing underneath your coat except corset, stockings and high heels. Be ready to suffer, and expect the unexpected. If you let me down tonight, you will be punished severely. Xxx

Emi read the text message carefully, several times. Expect the unexpected. She was used to getting orders like this from Birch, there was nothing he required that she hadn’t done before, but those few words filled her with a sense of anxiety. That was probably what he wanted, he knew she hated not knowing what was going to happen to her, and if she asked for more clarity, she knew what the reply would be – “You don’t need to know.”
Just before 8 P.M. that night, Emi pulled on a pair of sheer black stockings, checking to make sure the seams up the back were perfectly straight. Birch had once punished her with 30 strokes of his belt for daring to be in his presence with a crooked seam. Now every time she put her stockings on, she remembered that night…
She’d been ordered to drop to all fours. Birch had been silent, inspecting her, nudging the inside of her leg with his foot to tell her to spread her legs wider. The air was cool and delicious on her wet cunt as she obeyed. Still, he said nothing. She heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled. What would he do? She wished he’d speak. Unable to see, Emi had fully expected to feel the head of his cock pushing into her waiting cunt. He straddled her, but facing backwards, legs gripping her waist tight, standing upright. Emi risked a quick glance to the side to try and work out what he was doing, then her whole body jerked with pain and shock as the first blow from his belt stung her arse and thighs. Immediately, she clenched her muscles to brace against the pain, gasping as he continued methodically and silently thrashing her. He was hitting downwards, not across, and he moved the belt from one arse cheek to the other, making sure that her exposed cunt wasn’t left out. The leather cracked across her most tender area, making Emi cry out, her fingers digging into the carpet. Involuntarily, she humped up her back, and leant forward, anything to escape those cruel blows. Birch spoke then, his voice even but firm.
“If you move like that again, you will get more. Back in your position.”
Obediently, Emi sank back down. She was crying now, quietly snivelling to herself from fear and self pity. Birch took no notice. He simply carried on methodically placing each blow until he was satisfied. Emi felt him step away from her. She imagined him examining her marks carefully, head on one side, like an artist looking for flaws in a masterpiece. She was afraid that, like the artist, he might decide that he’d missed a bit, but instead of a paintbrush, he’d take up his belt again and correct it.
Emi held her breath, not daring to move until he told her to. Apparently satisfied, Birch moved round to stand in front of her. He bent down, putting one finger under her chin and tilting her tear and mascara streaked face upwards. His cock was hard, and Emi knew what he wanted her to do before he spoke.
“Suck,” he commanded, and Emi scrambled to her knees. She loved this part, loved the taste of him, the feel of his cock in her mouth, the weight of his balls in her hand. She loved the way he grabbed a fistful of her hair, holding her still, pressing her forward til his cock choked her and she had to fight the gag reflex as he thrust himself down her throat til her chin was pressed up against his balls, her eyes watering, struggling to breathe as he fucked her face.
Abruptly, he withdrew his cock, leaving Emi gasping for breath, wanting it back in her mouth, wanting to taste his cum.
“Stand in front of the fireplace,” he said, holding out one hand. Emi took it, and he pulled her to her feet, steadying her as she stumbled a little. He took both her hands and placed them wide apart on the mantelpiece. He nudged her legs with his foot, signalling her to move them backwards and apart til she was leaning forward, her weight on her arms, legs spread wide, cunt aching for his cock in spite of the thrashing he’d just given her.
She felt him slip into her, whimpering slightly as his thighs pressed against the burning, tender skin on her arse, bracing herself against his powerful thrusts, then pressing herself backwards onto him as he fucked her hard. He wrapped both hands round her throat, bending her neck and arching her backwards until her spine screamed in agony and she struggled to breathe.
“Who do you belong to?” he demanded
“You,” Emi barely managed to gasp
“Who will you always belong to?”
Birch pulled her back harder and held her there, quivering, impaled helplessly on the end of his cock. Emi was, as always, aware of the sheer power that emanated from him. She felt wetness fill her cunt as he emptied himself into her, and shuddered with pleasure as she felt her own orgasm build. She kept it to herself though, she knew Birch would punish her for daring to cum without asking his permission first. Her limbs were trembling with effort by the time he withdrew.
“Lick me clean.”
Emi once again sank to her knees, licking the coating of cum mixed with her own cunt juices off his cock. She stood again, feeling the spunk start to run down her legs, but Birch pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. She laid her head on his shoulder, breathing the warm scent of his skin, trying to process what had just happened.
“Your left stocking seam was crooked when you came in,” he said. “The thrashing was a punishment. I’m sure you’ll be careful not to make the same mistake again. Now go and clean yourself up.”
Property, she was just property, a slave who willingly served her owner in whatever way he chose.
Emi shook herself out of her reverie. She must hurry now. She wrapped the black, satiny corset around her body, lacing it as tight as she could. Standing in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom, she couldn’t help but stare at herself, transfixed. The corset moulded itself to her curves, accentuating them. Her tits were free and proud above it, before it narrowed down in sleek lines to her now dramatically small waist, then flowing out over the sensuous curves of her hips. Her smooth shaven mound and cunt were framed by the straps of the suspender belt, leading down to the lace tops of the stockings that encased her long legs. She put on her black suede high heels, marvelling at how good she looked – and felt. There was a wildness growing within her, an awareness of her own unbridled sexuality. She was Salome, tempting John the Baptist, she was Cleopatra driving Marc Antony wild, she was Theda Bara, vamping men in silent movies. She was every woman from the dawn of history who knew how to draw on the power of her sex to become a flesh and bone goddess.
As she put her long coat on over her outfit, she knew this amazing energy would start to wither and die the moment she entered Birch’s presence. His own personal power would subtly challenge hers, knowing just how to tame and harness the wildness and defiance that lurked within her, enjoying the game until he had quietly reduced her to the slave who was obedient to his command, who endured the unendurable, and who’s cunt became wet for him at only a word or a glance.
He was leaning on his front gate, waiting, as Emi turned into his street. She checked her watch. 8.29 P.M. – she was on time. He drew himself up to his full height as she approached, opening the gate and holding his arms out to her. Her steps quickened as she hurried to him, feeling as she always did the fierce surge of pride that she belonged to him. He squeezed her tight for an endless moment, kissing her face and hair, before taking her hand and leading her into his front porch.
“You look beautiful,” he said. “My own special girl. Now listen carefully. You will remove your coat here. In my living room are two people who would like to meet you. You will go and introduce yourself to them as my slave. Understand so far?”
Emi felt herself go hot, then cold, as the words sank in. Expect the unexpected. Birch wanted her to expose herself to two strangers. She felt herself shrinking, panic building. Was he bluffing her? He’d done something similar to this twice before, and she’d been so relieved it wasn’t for real that she hadn’t even felt angry with him for doing it to her.
“Understand?” he repeated, his voice sharper.
“I understand.”
“Good. Coat off.” As Emi unbuttoned her coat with clumsy fingers, he continued talking. “You’ll go in, stand in front of them with your legs apart and your cunt in full view, and introduce yourself as my slave. And you’ll look them in the eyes as you say it.”
Yes, Emi thought, He’s bluffing. Still, she had to continue playing her part. He took the coat from her and hung it up. Emi took a deep breath and prepared to walk through to the empty living room.
“Keep your head up, your shoulders back, and make me proud.”
Birch opened the door to the house. Emi could hear the TV on loud in the living room, as it usually was. She straightened her shoulders, pushed the door open, and stopped dead.
There were two people sitting on Birch’s sofa.