~ The gift ~
Jason was sent as a gift to his mistress for her birthday. As she
unpacked him from the crate he has arrived in, his arms and ankles bound by
black silk ribbons, a ball gag in his mouth and gaffer tape holding his eyelids
shut, he shivered with nervousness. This would be his first real servitude to a
real mistress. He had no idea what to expect. She didn't untie him as he had
expected she would, instead she left him on the floor and walked out of the
room. Jason lay uncomfortably for several hours, his ears straining to hear the
footsteps of his new mistress. He wondered if she would leave him there forever.
Cold and with cramps in his tied arms, he tried to sleep. When his mistress
finally returned and untied his arms and ankles, removed his gag, and tore the
tape roughly from his eyelids, there was no apology. He looked at her nervously;
trying not to sigh at the relief of his freed arms or rub at the chafe marks the
tightly tied ribbons had left behind. She looked back at him. She stood tall
above where he crouched at her feet, balancing on high stiletto-heeled boots and
wearing a tight, short PVC dress. She smiled at him briefly, then turned her
attention to adjusting the suspenders which held up her fishnet stockings.
"So," she said, prodding his knee with the tip of her left boot. "I
suppose you're mine now." Jason nodded, feeling nervous. This girl was a
stranger and he didn't know what to expect for her. He was afraid of doing the
wrong thing, he knew that he would do anything to please his pretty new owner.
He wanted her to be happy with him. Impulsively, he began to nuzzle at her feet
like a cat, purring. He kissed the edges of her boots softly, then ran a hand
over her stockings. She seemed pleased, and patted his head affectionately. As
she bent to fasten a collar around his neck, Jason felt proud. This was his
first time as a real slave boy, and he was determined to be wonderful.
"You're mine," she said to him again. He looked up at her, one hand on
her ankle. She kicked him lightly. "Say it," she prompted.
"I'm yours," he replied. "Mistress." She smiled. Jason knew that so far,
he was being good. His mistress clipped a leash to his collar and yanked him to
his feet. She sniffed at him and pulled a face. Inside the crate he had been
covered with sweat and dust, and as the trip went on, his own excrement.
"Animal," she said, slapping his shoulder. She pulled at his leash and
he stumbled slightly. He blushed, embarrassed at his clumsiness, and kept his
head bowed as he was pulled down some stairs into the dungeon. It was cold and
quiet down there, and the walls and floor were covered in black plastic. There
was a large drain in the centre of the room, and his mistress pushed him roughly
towards it.
"Strip of," she commanded. Jason pulled of his underwear, the only thing
he was wearing. He stood shivering in the middle of the room, holding on to his
leash uncertainly. He watched his mistress uncoil a length of hose and attach it
to a faucet.
"Now hold still," she told him and commenced to spray him with freezing
cold water. Jason cried out with the shock of the cold, but a warning glare from
her made him silent. She motioned with her hand for him to turn around, to lift
each foot, to bend his head so she could wet his hair. Eventually she turned the
water off, leaving him cold, naked and dripping wet. She took a grubby towel
from the sink and threw it at him. As he was drying off, she looked him up and
down.
"You're a cute little thing, aren't you?" she said. Jason looked up,
uncertain, holding the towel against his chest. His mistress carefully stepped
across the puddles of water on the floor and stood beside him. She pulled the
towel out of his hands and threw it back into the sink. The she took his chin in
her hand and looked closely at his face.
"You're very pretty," she said to him, "very pretty. You look like a
pretty little girl." Jason blinked his long eyelashes as she touched his dainty
cheekbones. He had always been a feminine looking boy, with narrow shoulders,
long soft hair, and delicate hands. His mistress was smiling thoughtfully to
herself.
"Maybe you are a girl," she said. He nodded.
"Whatever you want me to be," he said.
"You will be," she agreed. "You are going to be my little pet girl."
Pulling on his leash, she led Jason to a clothing rack in the corner. He watched
as she flicked through the clothes and chose a school dress. He held up his
arms, childishly, so that she could dress him. Roughly, she pulled his
still-damp hair into pigtails, and helped him put on some white knee socks. Then
she stood back to admire her handiwork. Jason could tell from her smile that she
was pleased. He held on to the short skirt of his dress, self-conscious that he
had nothing on underneath.
"What's wrong little girl?" his mistress asked.
"I don't have any underwear," Jason blushed. She pushed him to the floor
and threw a pair of white little girl's knickers into his lap. He pulled them
on, liking that they were too tight and cut into his legs. He crawled across the
floor to sit at his mistress' feet, nuzzling her ankles and kissing the toes of
her boots. She pulled at his pigtails, forcing him to look up at her.
"What are you doing, you horrible little girl? Get off the floor," she
said, the pulled Jason to his feet. With one hand on the collar around his neck,
she kissed him viciously. He kissed back uncertainly, with his hands at his
sides.
"So tell me, little girl, what are you doing in my basement?" his
mistress asked, twirling his pigtails through her hands possessively. Jason
thought for a moment.
"I'm lost," he said, looking mournful.
"Lost!" she said, pulling at his hair again. "You schoolgirls are all
the same. Well, I am going to teach you where you belong." She twisted his hands
behind his back and tied them together tightly with the same ribbons that had
bound him inside the crate. The raw skin on his wrists burned as the bonds began
their familiar chafing. His mistress pulled him across to the wall, where she
tied his leash to a metal ring on the wall. She pushed at his shoulder and he
fell to his knees, the leash pulling tight.
"Bad schoolgirl," she told him. "Say sorry."
"I'm sorry mistress."
"Are you bad?"
"Yes," Jason tried to look contrite. His mistress smiled, and took down
a long whip from where it hung on the wall. He looked at her as she slowly ran
the lash through her hands. She flicked it at his knees, and he gasped at the
sting.
"After this you won't be so bad," she told him. "I'm going to make sure
of it. Now turn around."
Jason did as he was told, and she pulled up his dress, exposing his back
and the too-tight white underwear he had been forced to put on. He shut his eyes
and took a deep breath as he heard his mistress swing the whip. It stuck him
with a sting that had already become familiar making him gasp. He had never been
whipped before, only little slaps from his trainer, on his legs and backside. As
the whipping continued, he began to anticipate the stinging of the lash eagerly.
Soon he was crying out involuntarily, but not with pain.
"Yes, yell out," his mistress said, sounding pleased. "Tell me, are you
sorry, you bad little girl?"
"Yes!" Jason cried, gasping and moaning as the whip hit him harder each
time. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" His back was covered by raised red welts, and
soon the whip began to draw blood. His mistress stopped whipping him, and freed
his leash from the wall. She knelt down behind him, one arm across his chest to
hold him upright. She forced a soft finger into his gasping mouth, the another.
As he sucked, she began to bite his neck gently, then harder, until each bite
left a purple half-moon of her teeth. With her free hand, she yanked up the
skirt of his dress, and smiled when she saw the white schoolgirl underwear was
being stretched out tightly by the slave boy's arousal.
"You like being a bad girl, do you?" she asked, smiling. Jason mumbled
around her fingers, and she freed his mouth so he could answer.
"Only if you like me to," he said. She pushed her fingers back into his
mouth, and smiled to herself. This new pet seemed like the perfect gift. Jason
could tell she was pleased with him, and he sucked at her fingers
enthusiastically.
"You're being a good girl now, though," she said. "Are you my good
little girl?" Jason nodded. She moved away, lying him down on his back, and sat
on his chest.
"I think I need to prove it," she said. She placed one foot on each of
his shoulders, pinning him to the floor. "I'm going to make you mine." She
scratched her long nails across the fabric of the dress that covered his
nipples, and he shivered. He turned his head to kiss her ankle. She climbed off
his chest, and pulled him across the room after her. In a small alcove next to
the stairs was a large, wrought iron bed. Jason's mistress pushed him onto his
back across the satin sheets and tied his leash to the bed frame. He watched as
she left the room slowly, and listened to her looking through one of the
cupboards in the dungeon. He had a vague idea of what was about to happen, and
the prospect both scared and excited him. His trainer had told him of the
various ways his new mistress would assert her ownership of him. When she
returned to the alcove wearing a large black strap-on, he remembered that rape
was one of them. Jason looked up at his mistress nervously as she clambered on
top of him and again pushed her fingers into his mouth. It was dark in the
alcove except for the light of one tiny barred window, but Jason could see that
she was smiling. He knew that above all he wanted to make his mistress happy. He
wanted to be her good little slave boy... or schoolgirl, as he was at the
moment. He moved his head so that her fingers fell away. She looked into his
eyes and pushed her strap-on into his waiting mouth. He sucked on the hard
plastic happily, stroking it with his tongue as though it was real and his
mistress could feel the motions. She stroked and pulled at his pigtails gently,
pushing deeper into his mouth and throat, making Jason struggle not to gag. He
found himself moaning softly; lying on his back on top of his bound wrists,
pinned down by his mistress' knees, humiliated and completely at her mercy. He
felt suddenly proud, his trainer had done well, he was going to be the best
slave boy his new mistress could hope for. As she pulled away from his mouth, he
immediately turned around to lie on his stomach. She pulled at his hair, and
slapped him. He stopped moving, frightened. What had he done wrong? He couldn't
ask... he knew it wasn't his place. He bowed his head, blushing brightly with
shame.
"What are you turning over for? You're not a boy! You're a girl. Girls
lie on their backs," she said to him. He kissed the backs of her hands and
nuzzled at her strap-on.
"I'm sorry, mistress," he said. She patted his hair, eased him down on
his back again.
"And I thought you were going to be a good little girl," she said,
teasingly. "Don't let all my hard work go to waste." He shook his head to show
that he wouldn't. She smiled at him, and gently pulled down his tight underwear.
It had left red imprints across his waist and around each leg. His mistress
eased his hips up, and wedged a satiny pillow under his lower back. She leaned
across him, penetrating gently, watching his face as he winced at the sharp
pain. She moved inside him softly at first, and Jason moaned softly at the pain
of each thrust. He twisted from side to side, knowing that he couldn't escape
but instinctively wanting to. His mistress pinned his shoulders to stop his
struggling, and began to push harder and deeper inside him. He cried out, but
was suddenly aware that his cries were not inspired by pain. The rest of the
rape was a blur; the movements of his mistress faster and faster in and out of
his body were lost in a dreamlike haze as he began to orgasm. She smiled,
pleased, and pulled away from her gasping, exhausted slave boy. She rolled him
over and untied his wrists, then unbuckled her strap-on and dropped it onto the
floor. Jason stretched out with his head in her lap, smiling sleepily as she
stroked his pigtails and cheeks.
"Now you're really mine," she said, happily.
"Yes mistress," Jason agreed. She smiled. This little pet was certainly
the best gift she had even received.
