"Sir?" she asked softly, her eyes on the floor.

            He flicked his eyes away from the morning paper, and down the weekend slave kneeling before him. As was the custom for the weekend "play time" they shared, the buxom young brunette was nude. All she wore were the scrunchies in her hair (to give her the pigtails he liked so much), the makeup on her face (still smeared from the early morning throat-fucking), and the polish on her nails.

            "May I ask you something?" she asked.

            "Veronica, my precious little piggy," he said with a wry half-cocked grin, "you may ask your question."

            "Our weekends are so... special, Sir," she began. "They keep me going all week. I was just hoping that we..."

            "Yes, pet?"

            "Sir, I want to be your slave. All the time."

            "Oh," he said, as if surprised. "Is that so."

            "Please, sir," she whined, and insolently gave his foot a kiss. "The way you treat me, the way you..."

            "Go on, piggy. Say it." He liked her to vocalize, to put into words her shameful desires.

            "I like the way to humiliate me, Sir. The way you punish me. No one has ever gotten me off the way you do, but it's more than that, Sir, I swear it. I want to make you happy, and I know I can. I want to be yours."

            "You want to be my slave... all the time," he echoed.

            "Please, sir. I'll make you so happy."

            He grunted, and scratched his chin.

            "Maybe."

            She looked crestfallen. Her pretty green eyes sunk to the floor again, and her pert, slightly swollen lips began to puff out into a pout.

            "Am I not good enough?" Veronica had been a novice to kinky sex three months ago, and now she was an addict. But her lack of experience made her self-conscious about her performance, something he liked to play upon.

            "Frankly, I don't know if you are." He wanted to chuckle, but held it in.

            "I'll do anything you say, Sir!"

            Like she always did.

            "Being my slave isn't just about following directions, pet," he said kindly, as if letting her down gently. "If you are my slave, it means you devote yourself to me body and soul, and put yourself second. Can you truly do that? Can you put your own needs aside and focus on what I want and need?"

            She nodded her head furiously. "I know I can. I want to."

            He got up quickly and left the room. She tagged along, crawling behind him. His weekend rules included her not standing unless ordered to do so – she was his little piggy, and should act as such.

            In the study, he was taking out a notebook and a ball point pen. He set them on the floor in front of her.

            "Write it out for me."

            "What, Sir?"

            "If you want to devote yourself to me, write it all out. I want a slave contract, and a declaration of your devotion. You will specifically sign over your rights to me... don't look at me like that. This doesn't need to be a binding legal document. I just want you to go into as much detail as possible, and then sign and date it."

            "Ok," she said, still unsure.

            He knelt down and grabbed her chin, yanking her face until she looked him in the eye.

            "This is your chance to convince me, whore," he said to her. "Write something that will convince me how sincere you are about this. After I read it, I'll decide what to do next."

            He let her go and shut the door behind him without another word.

            While he waited, Ethan Douglas enjoyed a quiet Sunday afternoon. He put some music on the stereo, put on a hockey game with the sound on MUTE, and had a beer with his lunch. He spoke to some friends on the phone, and lost track of time.

            Ethan was a large, broad shoulder man. Six feet tall, over two hundred pounds, he was big in every way. He had a strong jaw, and an intense look in his ocean blue eyes. He was by no means a piece of beefcake or a handsome specimen, but he did exude a unique aura that appealed to a certain type of woman.

            Women like Veronica, who wasn't the first or the best, but was proving to be more fun by the week.

            Veronica was a quiet young woman, almost mousy. She wore a little two much weight around her hips and belly, and she knew it. But she did have a nice ass, strong, shapely legs, and a pretty face. Beneath her clerk glasses, and under that pinned-back hair, Ethan had seen potential in her when they met. She felt his gaze, and had instantly blushed at the attention. With that, it had been a hop skip and a jump to her learning how to throat him, and licking a man's ass for the first time.

            Mousy Veronica's experience had been very limited. She had only had sex with three men, and had only put a penis in her mouth on one occasion.

            Ethan had opened her up to a whole new world.

            He tapped into her submissive streak, and found delicious new fetishes hidden deeper down. He slowly introduced more and more abuse and humiliation into their sex play, leading her gradually to their current point.

            "Sir?" Veronica mumbled as she crawled into the room. She had a few sheets of paper in her mouth, and crawled over to his feet.

            He took the pages from her mouth and sat down. Absently, he took out his cock and spread his legs.

            "I'll read this, while you suck me."

            She put her hands behind her back, and took his cock head between her puffy lips. He put one hand on the back of her head and rammed his meat deep into her throat, making her cough. She took over, gagging and slobbering as she throated him, plunging her face down onto his thick member over and over again. He sighed, and turned the page.

            "Well," he commented.

            She pulled her mouth off of his cock and rasped. "What, Sir?"

            Raising an eyebrow, he gave her a cross look. He grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her up over his knee. She wriggled and moaned.

            "I'm sorry, Sir."

            "Why should I even finish reading this, bitch?" he snapped. "You obviously aren't up to the job."

            "Please, Sir," she groaned.

            Still holding her hair, he stood up and pushed her back to the floor. She had to struggle to crawl after him, yelping as he yanked her hair while walking away. Her toes scrabbled against the smooth tile floor. In the kitchen, he pulled her up to her feet and pushed her back over the kitchen table.

            "Grab your ankles and spread your legs, piggy," he told her, and left the room.

            Veronica lay on the table, heart pounding. She grabbed her ankles and pulled her thick thighs as far apart as she could, and then held the pose. He was so awful to her, but she couldn't control her but obey – her cunt had never been steamier, and when she came (when he let her come) it was like nothing she'd ever felt before.

            He entered the room swinging a leather belt. He held the buckle in one hand, and folded the belt other so he could hold the other end in the same fist.

            "Hold your position," he instructed, and with a high overhead swing he slapped her exposed, shaved cunt with the belt. A loud, moist SMACK filled the room, and she squealed like a pig. Her legs trembled, and started to come together, but she held tight, and kept her throbbing cunt exposed and vulnerable.

            "You want me to finish reading your contract?"

            "Please, Sir."

            SLAP he hit her cunt again. Her body bucked against the hard table, and she bit down on her lip. While she was writhing, he hit her again. "Thank you, Sir!" she half yelped, half screamed.

            He wadded up the paper she had written and stuffed it into her mouth before putting the leather to her labia one final time.

            "Now get on all fours on the table, and read it to me out loud. Start from the beginning, and read it all the way through."

            She rolled over and got on her knees. Leaning forward on her elbows, she was able to take the papers from her mouth, smooth them out, and hold them flat to read. As trained, she kept her back arched, her ass spread wide and stuck up in the air.

            He slapped her ass with the belt.

            "Begin," he told her.

            She started to read, as he reddened her ample ass with fifty strokes from his belt. By the time she was done, her ass was a mess of welts, and her makeup was in tear-streaks down her face.

            "Please accept me as your slave," she finished. "Sincerely, Veronica McKay, this date of...."

            He patted the back of her head. "Okay, pet. Here is what we are going to do. We are going to try this out for a week. One week, starting now."

            "I..."

            He used his hand to slap her ass this time.

            "Do not interrupt me, piggy. We are going to try this out. I will test you, bitch, I will test you hard. You will obey everything you are told to do. You will go to your job as normal, but every minute outside of that you are my possession. Is that understood?"

            "Yes, Sir."

            "At the end of one week, we will have a talk. We can discuss if it's working. If I'm not satisfied, or you aren't happy, we can end it no problem, and go back to doing our little thing."

            She nodded happily, her cheeks blushing with happiness this time instead of humiliation.

            "But as of now, you are my slave."

            "Yes, Sir," she said.

            "Now get down here and finish me off with your mouth, slut."

            He looked down on his pet as she loving slurped on his cock. He took it from her, and she instantly started licking and sucking his balls. He slapped as he cheeks and nose with his hard dick, before yanking her by the hair again and plunging her length deep into her throat.

            "Here it comes," he whispered, and pulled out his member so just the tip was resting on her tongue. She moaned as he squirted thick, hot cum into her mouth, filling it to the edge of her bottom lip. She held it, watching him, waiting for the command to swallow.

            "Spit it out," he told her, pointing to the floor next to her.

            She complied, spitting out what was an enormous cum load. All that whipping had really gotten his juices flowing, and now it was splattered out on the tile by her foot.

            He gave her a wicked grin.

            "Now get down on your belly, slave, and lick it all up."

            With a whimper of shame, she lowered herself and began to lap the jizz from the floor. He knelt down beside her for a better view.

            "This will be a hard week for you, whore, have no doubt. I'm going to test you, and make sure you are good enough to be my slave. You obey me, and I might just keep you."

Later That Night

            He opened the closet and let her out. She shuffled out on her knees, hands still bound behind her back.

            "Time to go, pet," he told her kindly, untying her.

            "Go?"

            "Yes, you have work in the morning. Get your things and get out."

            She crawled into his bedroom and starts picked up her clothes and putting them in her bag. He leaned in the doorway and watched.

            "Are you my slave, whore?" he asked.

            "Yes, Sir. I mean, yes Master."

            "Your cunt is off limits until I say otherwise. You are not to touch it, or stimulate it in any way. Is that understood."

            She nodded... secretly pining to get home, alone, so she could get herself off over and over and over and...

            He crossed the room and grabbed her by her long brown hair. He yanked her head back, so she was looking up at him, and he slapped her. Then he spit in her face, and slapped her again. He pushed her to the floor and crouched down over her.

            "I will know if you get yourself off, bitch. I will know, and I will get rid of you for good. Now you listen good, slut – you are not allowed to cum without my permission, EVER. If you try, you know what will happen? It will take forever, and your orgasm will be for shit, because you know you didn't earn it. You know you're betraying me. Now get the fuck out of my sight, and remember what I said."
 
            He got up and turned his back to her. She scurried into some clothes, head hung low, and then paused in the doorway, looking at his back.

            "Sir, I'm sorry. I..."

            "I said get the fuck out."

MONDAY

            Veronica had just gotten out of the shower, and was getting dressed for work, when her phone rang. Her cunt was still pulsing and wet from the night before, but she refrained from touching it. She hadn't even washed, afraid of making her Sir angry again.

            "Hello?" she answered, pulling a skirt up around her waist.

            "Take a long lunch today," Ethan said sleepily. "Get a copy of your house key made for me, and bring it to me at lunch."

            He hung up.

            Her heart raced – maybe he wasn't angry with her any more! She determined herself once more to make him happy, and to obey him.

            Work was a crashing bore that morning. The clock seemed gunked up with molasses, moving at half speed. She sat at her desk, going through the motions and thinking about Him.

            She told her boss she had a dental appointment, and would be gone for two hours, before racing out to her car and speeding to the hardware store to get a key made.

            Fifteen minutes later she was knocking on His door, feeling her pulse race in her neck, feeling the breath in her tightened lungs.

            "Come in," Ethan shouted.

            Veronica let herself in and looked around. Ethan was at the dining room table, going through some papers and making notes on them. He had the scraps of lunch around him; the remains of a sandwich and a salad.

            "Strip," he said without looking.

            Quickly, she took off all her clothes and got down on all fours. She put the house key in her teeth, and crawled over to sit at his side. He put his hand out, touching hios fingers to her nervous, quivering chin, and she dropped the key into his palm.

            "Good girl," he said, and turned a page.

            He kept reading for a few minutes. She looked at his feet, turning her head slightly to look up at his face from time to time.

            Finally, he leaned back and picked up the plate. He dumped the scraps of bread and cheese into the salad bowl, covering up the wilted lettuce and tomato slices, and sat the bowl in front of her.

            "Go ahead, have some lunch," he said, and went back to reading.

            He could feel her eyes on him, pleading for a bit of attention. He chuckled inwardly, and went back to reading. A few moments passed, and then Veronica lowered her head and started eating out of the bowl – eating his scraps like a dog.

            He looked down at her. She had tried to pull her hair back, but it was still cascading around her face and falling into the bowl. Her lips smacked and she made loud slurping noises as she cleaned the inside of the dish. He felt his cock jump. Her plump ass was up in the air, as she had been trained, and she gently moved it from side to side.

            She was trying her best to turn him on.

            "Good pet," he told her. "Now crawl under the table and suck my cock."

            He picked up a pen and started writing out a few notes. She hurriedly slipped between his legs and took his half-hard cock into her moist, willing mouth. He inched his chair forward, and jammed his cock deep into her throat. The back of her head banged against the underside of the table. He laughed, and started throat-fucking her. The tabletop went THUMP THUMP THUMP as her head smacked against it. He heard her gag deeply, and felt a warm ooze and drool gather on his heavy ball sack.

            With a lustful grunt, he emptied himself into her warm, waiting fuckhole mouth. She groaned and moaned as she milked his tool, and when she finished she sat still and waited.

            "Come out and show me your treat, whore," he told her.

            Quickly she crawled out and presented herself – on her knees, hands behind her back, head thrown back, mouth open. Her mouth was full of his seed. He leaned over and spit into her mouth.

            "Gargle it around," he ordered. She did, making the cream bubble and dance on her tongue. "Now swallow."

            "Thank you, Sir," she said, when her belly was full.

            "Fine, now go back to work," he said, turning back to his papers. Her eyes lingered on him. "I don't need to remind you about who owns your ass, do I?"

            "No, Sir."

            "Good. I'll know if you touch yourself down there, pet."

            "Yes, Sir."

            He patted her head. "Get out. And take that video tape with you. It's a work out tape. You will do it tonight after work. From now on, you will do it twice a day until told otherwise."

            "Of course, Sir."

            "Good, now that your pig ass is mine, we're going to trim some of the fat off of it." She didn't look at him, but he could see the hurt on her face. "I'll come by at some point tonight, piggy. I want to find you naked, and on the floor. Pigs don't wear clothes, and pigs don't get on the furniture, do they?

            Her face flushed bright red, and she shook her head slowly. "No, Sir."

To be continued.