The Enslaving of anna

Chapter 12

I put a deal of thought into anna's punishment. It was, in effect, the price for her access to the table. That price had to be high enough to impress upon her the value of that privilege, but not so horrendous as to break her spirit. I had no desire to turn a sexy young pain slut into a quivering doormat. I have no need for a lifeless set of female bodily orifices with no soul attached. I might as well buy an inflatable doll. Or a prostitute. To my mind the ideal slave is superficially obedient but irrepressibly randy and masochistic, excited by the boiling stimulants of fear, pain and sex. anna only feels emotionally secure if her desperate need for iron-clad love is forged in the fire of unflinching discipline. It's a finely tuned balance. I have to be willing to dish it out and she has to be strong enough to take it. I can't flinch out of pity, but I must not stress her beyond her strength. anna is courageous but not as rugged as she thinks, physically or emotionally.

I had supplied her with a list of guests for her punishment party chosen from our bdsm friends at the Iron Collar Club. I selected only those on whom I could rely to show anna little quarter. She was to pass on to the Masters my wish to have the women come in formal cocktail dresses. I didn't care what they wore under them, if anything, as long as the entire company would be in sharp contrast to what anna would be wearing, from her opening costume to the time she would be stripped naked. In such situations, every bit of humiliation counts, and it doesn't take a psychiatrist to realize that women are exceedingly sensitive to whether they are properly attired for any given occasion.

I spent some time in my shop preparing some special equipment. One involved a tray which anna would use to serve the hors d'oeuvres. A few holes drilled in both sides did the trick. I also rummaged around in the dungeon for a number of items I hadn't used for a while, including a heavy oak stock with holes for head and hands. I inserted some hooks in the living room and dining room ceilings, telling myself I could always take them out later and putty in the holes. In fact, I never did. Our lifestyle friends know what they're for. Our vanilla friends are too polite to ask.

anna did a superb job of organizing and preparing the party and the dinner, I have to admit. It surely wasn't easy for her, knowing that she was setting herself up for the most difficult and painful night of her young life. She must have felt like a condemned prisoner preparing her own execution. I have never admired her courage and loved her as much.

 

anna's journal, October 26

I can barely hold this pen, my fingers are so sore. Somehow i made it through last night and am still relatively sane. Was it worth it? Just for three meals a week to eat at the table with a knife and fork and plate like a human being? Yes. Oh God, yes! Will i do it again the next time i make some goddamn clumsy mistake? i don't know. Maybe. But, oh God! It was so awful! i love my Master, but He can be so cruel!

It started out innocently enough. After all my hard work putting out the invitations, confirming them, cleaning the house and preparing the meal, i had hoped to sit down at the table with the other slaves and enjoy the peppersteak and champagne. Yeah, right. i should have known better. Master dressed me up in a silly French maid outfit that buttoned up the front — black with white lace trim, skirt almost up to my crotch, pouffy shoulders, a narrow black belt, high heels and my black dog collar. The ends of a large dog's choke chain had been looped around my ankles and locked in place, hobbling me so that i had to take tiny steps as I took coats and jackets from the arriving guests.

When the last couple had arrived, Master took me into the living room and with everyone gathered around to watch unbuttoned my dress down to the belt and pulled down the top. Then He produced a serving tray and attached one side of it to my belt. Two cords were attached to the opposite side of the tray. Master took from His pocket a pair of nipple clamps, the really strong ones He uses when He wants to hang heavy weights from my tits. i closed my eyes and bit my lip as he put them on. They hurt like hell! He tied the two cords to the clamps so that my nipples were now holding the tray level. Then He started piling glasses and bottles of Champagne on the tray along with a bowl of my fancy seafood hors d'oeuvres and ordered me to circulate among the guests. i tried not to cry as the pain mounted, but what's the use? Soon i was weeping like a whipped schoolgirl as i presented my refreshments to the guests. The women were silently sympathetic and took their refreshments gently, while the men liked to set the bottles down hard on the tray to see me gasp. When dinner was announced, i had to bring in the plates for the Masters on that same tray, along with the bowls of vegetables and, finally, the bowls for the slaves eating at their Masters' feet.

Once everyone had been served, Master removed the tray, locked my head and hands into a heavy wooden stock and connected it with a chain from a hook He had installed in the ceiling. He connected the cords from my nipple clamps to an iron weight on the floor so that i had to bend my knees to relieve the painful pull on my nipples. The chain connecting the stock to the ceiling kept me from kneeling on the floor to give my legs a rest and so the muscles were on fire. The only other option was to hang by my head and hands until my legs had recovered enough to help out. So as He and His guests enjoyed the salmon and peppercorn steak and the chocolate mousse that followed (served by slave oriana), i wept and moaned fighting off the pain in my legs, my arms, my jaw and my poor tortured nips.

After they had finished, Master looked over at me and smiled with satisfaction, whether because of my suffering or my cooking i couldn't tell. But at that point i was desperate enough to beg.

"Please, Master, release me, just for a minute."

He laughed and reminded me in front of the guests that extreme punishment had been my choice. "Have you changed your mind? Have you decided it would be better to lose your table privileges than take your punishment?"

i knew the answer i must give, but it took me another minute of weeping to screw up the courage to say it. my voice seemed to come from another room. Master told me to speak up.

"No, Master."

"No what , slave anna?"

"No, i have not changed my mind. Please . . ." It was so hard to say it.

"Please what, slave anna?" His voice was calm but unyielding.

i took a deep breath to get myself under control. "Please continue the punishment, Master."

"Very good. We'll move on to the next element of your punishment in a few moments, but first you must explain to all present in your own words what you agreed to concerning your dining accommodations and how you breached that agreement. you will then confirm which penalty you have chosen and what the limitations are on your punishment."

i realized i would be stuck in my current agony until i did exactly as He said, so i made a huge mental effort to bypass the pain and concentrate on my words, telling the guests how Master had allowed me to eat three meals a week at the table as long as i behaved like a lady and that i had been inexcusably clumsy and splattered sauce all over everything and had begged Master not to take away my table privileges but to punish me severely instead and that there were no limits and He could do whatever He wanted with me because i deserve it! i was panting with pain and exhaustion by the time i ran out of words and resumed weeping. In the back of my mind, of course, there was full awareness that whatever followed this part of the punishment would be even worse, but when you're in the throes of any kind of torment you can only think of making it stop.

Master nodded, so i guess my words sufficed. When He rose and came over to me, my initial reaction was abject joy! But when He reached for the nipple clamps i remembered they'd been on there for well over an hour and this was really going to HURT!

He released both clamps at once! i screamed at the top of my lungs as my body hurled itself backwards, the stocks nearly yanking my head off. It was like taking a branding iron on both breasts! i danced and spun, gasping and mewling until the pain receded. Master opened the stock to free my neck and wrists, then helped me to a chair so i could rest a few minutes while He prepared the next punishment. oriana and mya, Master Jason's two slaves, removed the French maid costume and the heels. Now everyone in the house was elegantly dressed except me. i've rarely felt so naked, even when on display in the Exhibition Hall of the Iron Collar Club. In that situation, even though all the spectators milling around and gawking at you are dressed, you have comfort in the knowledge that elsewhere in the Hall there are other exhibits just as naked as you.

It seemed like only a minute before Master came back for me, along with Master Logan. They each took an elbow and escorted me down the stairs to the dungeon room where everyone was milling around waiting for me. A padded sawhorse had been set up in the middle of the room. Two of the men, Master Blaine and Tom, were standing beside it holding ropes. i was bent over the saw horse and the two men with the ropes quickly lashed my wrists to the bottom of the sawhorse legs while Master and Logan did the same with my ankles. This immobilized me with my ass in the air, my entire backside available for punishment and my sex exposed for whatever. At least my sore tits were out of harm's way for the time being, i thought. Then i felt a wet brush stroking my pussy. For the first few seconds it was a pleasant sensation, but soon it began to burn. They were painting Flexall on my most tender tissues! Oh my God in heaven! It was as bad as molten wax, except that the burning went on and on!

While i was twisting and grunting and trying to deal with it, i noticed that my audience had gathered in a circle around me. Next thing i knew, they were marching around me chanting "Oh ee oh," the bad witch's soldiers' song from "The Wizard of Oz" and beating me to the rhythm of it. They used everything! Floggers, whips, crops, canes, rulers, switches, rubber hoses, leather belts, bamboo, cat-o-nine-tails! Several blows landed at once with every beat of the chanting, on my back and bottom and thighs and calves. i was in a cacophony of pain, screaming and crying and tugging uselessly against the ropes. i guess Master must have been watching because just as i could feel myself starting to pass out, it all stopped. Well, not the burning, but the all the whipping and caning and stuff.

Someone put a blindfold on me and several things were pumped in and out of my cunt and ass, some of them warm and human, some cold and rubbery, others stiff and vegetable. A vibrator was applied to my clit until i came. i could feel my juices running down my leg. They left me there for a while with two objects thrust deep inside me, a dildo and some sort of vegetable, letting the pain of the Flexall fade to a frantic itch, while they set up my next torture.

After an interval of ominous clanking and scraping sounds coming from somewhere beside me, i felt the objects slide out of my two southern entrances and the ropes being loosened that bound me to the sawhorse. Unseen hands stood me up and the blindfold was removed.

What i saw didn't look all that frightening. There was a metal pipe frame with a wooden board across the top set at waist level. Sticking up through holes in the board was a bunch of small leather loops and a couple of straps. A rope dangled down from the ceiling in front of the board.

Someone took the sawhorse out of the way and Master led me over to where the rope hung down. my first thought was that it was just for tying my hands over my head. It wasn't until Master tied my hair to the rope that i considered the purpose of the board. Close up i could see that there were actually two sets of five loops and a couple of other straps. When ordered to push my fingers and thumbs into the loops, i still hadn't imagined what lay in store, although my belly began to tighten when my wrists were belted down fast against the board and the rope tied into my hair began tugging me up to my tiptoes. The fear mounted when Master attached those same awful clamps to my nipples and connected them with chains to the board in front of me. Still i had not a clue as to what was to come until Master began passing out sterilized needles to all the guests and they began filing toward me.

O God! Then i panicked! Master Tom was the first in line and when he pushed that first needle under my fingernail, the pain was so excruciating that i screamed and begged them to stop. But they kept coming! As each additional needle went in, my body jerked involuntarily, causing my hair to be yanked and the clamps to bite more savagely into my nipples as the chains snapped taut. By the time all twelve pins had been inserted under my fingernails, i was blinded by tears, half out of my mind with pain, and afraid i would pass out and rip my hair out by the roots. To make matters worse, i threw up all over myself!

One of the slaves — tatyana, the Ukrainian girl who belongs to Master Logan — was ordered to hose me down, which she did with COLD water! Then Master came up beside me with two more needles. Long ones, and much thicker than the others!

"Oh no, Master! Please!" i was begging unashamedly, my eyes filling with tears, my body beginning to shake as i imagined these monsters being shoved under my fingernails to join the dozen already bristling there!

He just smiled.

"Remember," He said, "this was your choice."

But instead of adding to the pain raging in my fingers, He began slowly inserting one of the needles into the side of my left breast. i remember screaming endlessly as this incredible new pain went on and on. The pain and the ghastly sight of the needle pushing through my breast and emerging through the skin on the other side made the world dissolve into a pinpoint and disappear. Master tried to revive me twice, but the combination of pain from my fingers and breast, and the weight of my body tearing at my hair and nipples would send me off again. They finally had to take me down and remove all the clamps and needles.

The gang bang that followed after Master tended to my various punctures was, in a sense, a reward for my endurance. i was strapped to a table, my wrists and ankles bound together and pulled over my head, with both pussy and anus fair game to all our twelve guests. i was blindfolded again so i don't know who did what to me, but the sliding and hammering of their cocks and the soft wetness of their tongues brought me to multiple orgasms that erased the lingering pain. Thank God Master did not make me ask permission to cum.

But my punishment wasn't over yet. The worst part — in its way even worse than the needles — came at the very end when Master tied me in the bathtub and put my head into a block with wooden dowels on each side that screwed inward, pushing into my ears so that i couldn't move my head at all. Then He inserted one of those dental spreaders in my mouth to hold it wide open. i thought i would go into shock when the next thing He did was to invite everyone, even the subs, to come in and use me as a toilet. Every single one of them took Him up on it! And after all that drinking, there was plenty of piss to empty into my mouth. i had to swallow a lot of it, too, or drown. It was by far the most humiliating and disgusting punishment I've ever been put through. They call this kind of play "water sports," and i can only hope that my dear Master does not see fit to demand it of me too often.

Still, if it pleases Him, i will suffer it. Whatever use He chooses for me, i will do it. Whatever pain He decides i must bear, i will bear it. Sometimes, in the weakness of my flesh i beg for mercy; but in the center of my soul i expect none. i want none. i am a loving and obedient tool for Master's pleasure. That is the beginning and the end of it.