The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Apartment

Chapter 3

He rolled off me and I quickly found myself exhausted in every possible way and I fell fast asleep.

I was walking down a street with my Master. I was completely naked, but for the leather collar I wore around my neck. Of course, I was on all fours as a good bitch should be. My Master liked to take me for brisk walks for our mutual exercise. We walked down the broad sidewalk of a major street in a large city. It had taken me some time to learn to keep up. If one sees most people walking on all fours, they are limited to a shuffly gate and can’t move very fast. Like doing well in most disciplines, there are tricks to better performance, but still also the need for long practice and hard work. I had both. As for the tricks, one has to keep one’s lower legs up so they stay out of one’s knees way. The other trick is that one has to put one’s back and stomach into it. Once you use your torso, one can make good speed. Of course, to use one’s core meant that one had to practice, train and condition. My belly and back were now so much tighter and stronger. It was amazing how my stronger back and belly helped me pleasure my Master as well. I was proud that I could pleasure my Master better, that I was a good bitch.

Master and I came to a stop as Master found someone he wanted to talk to. I immediately assumed the position of a well trained bitch, I was crouched on my toes, my legs fully bent and spread wide. My arms went up as well. My upper arms were perhaps at a 30 degree angle to my body, my forearms bent 90 degrees to my upper arms. My hands then bent back down palms down, the position was similar to a Preying Mantis or a begging dog which was appropriate for me, Master’s bitch.

When my Master found me wild, before he had domesticated, tamed and trained me, I had thought myself in good condition. That was nothing compared to the shape I was in now. Walks like this conditioned my core so much more thoroughly than any exercise I had ever done before. Now my stomach was flat with a prominent six pack and my back was carved. Holding my current position had conditioned my arms and legs. You don’t think its hard on the arms? Yes holding your arms that way for a second is nothing. How about a minute, not many could do that. How about ten minutes, an hour, or the hours my Master would keep me in that position. Exactly.

When out for walks, my task was to keep Master’s pace, my head even with his leg on his left side. My pride was in how few times Master would have to correct me with the leash. That meant paying attention to the ground before me, not lollygagging around at the sights. When stopped as we were now, I wouldn’t call it at rest, my task was to hold perfect position and a good bitch kept her eyes down demonstrating humbleness and good form. I knew I was in a city, but I had no idea which. Why would I need to know? It wasn’t my business to be reading signs, that would mean my head was swiveling around when it was supposed to be keeping good form. I knew there were others leading bitches like me on leashes, I have no idea how many. I know some of the many who walked by looked at my exposed body, others didn’t.

I knew my Master was speaking to a woman. She had a high pitched voice and frequently giggled. One bitch knows another, and as I dripped on the pavement, I knew she wanted to have Master’s dick up her twat. Master no longer used my twat often, I was too low for that. Master had better slaves for that pleasure. Mostly when he let me service him now, it would be with my mouth. I’m not sure what they talked about, its not a bitch’s place to listen to her Master’s conversations with her betters.

I was mildly annoyed. If Master wanted the bitch he was speaking to, he should bring her home, strip her of her clothing, vanity and presumption, then train her for her proper place. I had no doubt Master could if he chose. All women in the world were my Master’s bitches, most just didn’t know it yet.

Their conversation concluded, Master gave a light tug to signal renewed movement. I smoothly dropped back to all fours and resumed my place by his knee. I was always at a simmer when near my Master, but now I was so grateful he had taken the time to train me to be his bitch. The perfection of my devotion and complete submission to my Master made my body flush and I thought I was about to come when…

I woke up. I knew my dream was a sign of just how deeply I was devoted to this man, my new Master. Master had rolled back onto me. I don’t know how long I had slept or if he had used Bobbi. Clearly he wanted to use me again. My body opened to him without so much as checking my opinion on the matter, not that I would have disagreed. Again he rode me. The pleasure was even more intense than it had been the first time. When he was done I fell asleep again.

There was to be a gathering tonight in Master’s home. Some of Master’s friends and equals were to come and visit.

“An attractive living sculpture would be nice. Up on the table.” Master said and, completely nude, I climbed up on his table.

The place was like his apartment, only larger, grander, perhaps a home he owned elsewhere or would own someday.

“Assume the position.” Master ordered.

I quickly spread my feet shoulder width apart, placed my hands behind my neck and laced the fingers. Then I bent my elbows as far back as they would go. My back arched and my girls went out before me and butt went out behind me. A happy smile went on my face.

“Close your eyes and don’t open them till I tell you.” Master commanded.

My eyelids slammed shut without bothering to ask my opinion, not that I would have disagreed.

Preparations continued, guests began to arrive. Hours went by. I held my position regardless of the ache in my muscles. My eyes remained closed. I heard conversations as the gathering came to full force and attendance. Again I did not listen, it was not my place to eavesdrop on Master’s guests.

People, women and men, that perhaps I knew and those whom I might someday meet in another way milled about the party. Some stopped to gaze at me, others just went by casually. Every smile and knowing glance I would ever receive again would make me wonder if they had been at this party. They were walking about, looking on my completely nude body. Not only nude, but presented. Which was more embarrassing, that I was nude or that I was so clearly obedient? I realized that my role tonight wasn’t only to be a decoration for Master’s home, but also a lesson for me. My nude form and my obedience no longer belonged to me, they belonged to Master. If he chose to share them, my opinion was irrelevant.

Then, as the evening went on, I could hear the tone of the party grow a bit looser, wilder. I was brought down from the table by Master, even with my eyes closed I could tell it was his hands taking me from the table. He lay me down on my back on the table, my legs dangling off the edge, my sex hopelessly exposed. Master walked around the table and announced, “Help yourselves boys!”

Even with my eyes closed, I knew a line of males had formed and the first one’s penis slammed home into my vagina. I knew it wasn’t my Master’s manhood. I could tell the difference. It wasn’t painful, I was always at a simmer when I was around Master. It wasn’t very pleasurable either, after Master no man could compare. The boy who was in me pistoned in and out, kneading my breasts with his hands.

Boy after boy took their turns on me. I realized that this was also a lesson, that sex was no longer my choice. My sex belonged to Master and he could use it or give it away at his discretion. As I realized how deeply I belonged to Master I found the realization so pleasurable I began to come.

I woke again as Master had once again rolled onto me to sate his urges. How long had I slept? Who knows, who can think or look at a clock when one is in the throes of such intense pleasure? Each time Master penetrated me, I thought there was no way sex could ever be this good again. Each time he did, it was better than the last. Even with no other hold over me, I would have done anything for that sex.

Once again in a mind destroying moment he came and rolled off me. I couldn’t have remained conscious if I wanted …

Master was having a party. Among other slaves so assigned I would be a cocktail waitress. I wore the uniform Master had selected for us. A bowtie, black silk garter belt, black silk stockings and very tall shiny patent black heels. Of course, I would be otherwise nude. I suspected Master had chosen among his slaves those who were already fairly graceful. For weeks before the party, my fellow slaves and I had drilled in the art and style of waitressing. I could now smoothly carry my drinks tray above my head on my right hand while my left would be a fist firmly placed against my left hip, elbow out. I could maneuver with full tray through a crowded room, my hips swinging side to side like the space was my personal catwalk.

Bobbi was back in the open kitchen working hard to prepare food, both general hors-d’oeuvres and specific guest requests. Bobbi was wearing the general kitchen uniform, which was complete nudity. I served drinks and food from my tray with grace, despite guests frequently pinching of my bottom, breasts and even digits being inserted into my sex. My body was on the menu as well and I had no compunctions. Was that an old boyfriend? Was that a professor who’s good opinion I needed for a recommendation for grad school? Irrelevant.

I had just delivered a cigar to another guest when my professor opened his fly and let his old, wrinkly soft penis out and pointed at it.

I knelt between his legs making sure my knees stayed shoulder width apart. Giving head was not something I had ever done. Giving head had the combined appeal of licking a public bathroom floor clean with my tongue and complete humiliation as I did something sexual clearly for someone else’s benefit rather than my own. Before I had met Master, I had supposed I might do it someday for my husband, after he cleaned it very thoroughly and he had done something very great, like nursing me through cancer or I had done something particularly bad like getting caught having an affair with the pool boy. This was the smelly, wrinkly penis of my dirty old man professor. I could remember a time, not long past, when if this professor had even suggested this act, I would have slapped his face, stormed out and reported him to the authorities.

My mouth engulfed the professor’s penis and I began to suck on it like it was the antidote. My blow jobs were on the menu tonight, like the drinks, food and cigars. I wasn’t giving head for the professor, I was doing it for Master. This, like all things, belonged to Master. No act, no matter how low, dirty or humiliating would be beneath me if Master willed it. Even as I sucked the professor’s dirty dick, he explained to his tablemate, another wrinkly old male professor, how he, “would never give a recommendation to such a dirty whore. All women were just stupid whores anyway, why waste a graduate school’s space on them.”

The professor’s comments, which I knew I would have once found so objectionable, didn’t matter. I was giving this last vestige of my independence to Master and that thought was so pleasurable I began to come…