~ 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.
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