My collar had finally arrived, and I was more than eager to be subjugated to his total control. Quickly adapting to the new dynamic, my days were spent working, being forced into a state of constant, nearly-overwhelming arousal, and rushing home to ensure I had time to properly present myself to Master. Knowing that the situation was temporary gave extra urgency to my exploration of this lifestyle.

I’d told him that I didn’t want any penetrative sex until I was collared. I had to resign myself to getting brutally face-fucked, as per my request, treated like a slut, and forced into an orgasmic state where pain, humiliation, and pleasure mixed themselves into a cocktail of pure rapture. Master catered my tasks to align with my kinks, driving the fury of my lust into a sexually heightened state that had me on the cusp of cumming throughout the entire day.

In my new slave toga, I eagerly served his pleasure. He’d arrive home to a clean house, dinner ready for him, and my eager mouth that first begged for his cock and was then filled by him thrusting it down my throat. I was bound and tortured with pleasure, restrained and forced to orgasm, and I loved every moment. With only eight more days left on the contract, I was more than eager to cram as much experience into this as I possibly could.

I’d snuck a few peeks at my collar, and it was beautiful. Delicate and wrought of a silvery metal, it had a center O-ring, some anodized red and chrome chainmail links on either side and the main links were of fine chain. It was more a day collar than a BDSM type. I left it in the box as instructed but placed it in the center of the dining area’s table to ensure he’d see it.

When Glade arrived home, I was in position, kneeling in front of the door. I was so excited that I didn’t even give my Master time to close the door. Consumed with passion, I grabbed his belt and pulled him to me, undoing his pants so I could wrap my lips around his meat. My hands gripped his buttocks, pulling the shaft so deep into my mouth that I gagged, tears pouring out of my eyes and making my mascara run.

My hungry mouth fucked his thick shaft, hungry for cum. Keeping eye contact, I squeezed his balls, one hand still pumping his body deeper and deeper. I wanted my mouth used, and he could punish me with the brutal paddle if he wanted; I was getting his jizz no matter what.

Although my jaw was in agony, and I was choking on his cock, I kept at it, milking his shaft until he erupted with a hot, sticky blast of sperm. I let the first blast paint my tongue, then pulled off his orgasming shaft, pointing his cock at my tits. I wanted to be collared while covered in cum. My hand pumped up and down his manhood until I’d drained his balls, emptying their contents on my body.

“The collar’s here,” I shouted, jumping up. “Let me get ready, Master, and collar me. Please make me your slave and put the fucking collar on.”

With everything ready, I ran upstairs and lubed up an anal tail. Fingering myself wildly, I shoved the plug up my ass, wiggling a bit to seat it just right. Black, leather manacles were shoved over my wrists, matching ones around my ankles. I rushed downstairs to finish setting up my submission ritual. To my delight, he’d gotten everything ready while I prepared my body.

He was shirtless, those perfect muscles rippling in the candlelight. The room was darkened, all the furniture moved to the side. A sheepskin rug was in the center with lit candles on the floor around it in a circle. My husband had a miniature cat-o-nine-tails tucked into the waist of his pants. It was a prop I’d picked up at a Halloween store, far too flimsy to cause pain. It only caused minor discomfort, perhaps just a twinge of a sting.

“Is the slut ready?” His voice carried a bit of humor, confidence, and masculine power.

“I am prepared to surrender my heart, mind, soul, and especially my body to your will a dominance, if you’d have me as your whore.”

“Then present yourself before me and submit.”

With slowness and pride, each foot crossing over the other with every step, I crossed the living room and stood upon the sheepskin in the center of the circle. Dropping to my knees on the soft wool, I bent forward, arms extended, until my cheek was pressed against the floor. The movement caused the plug in my ass to move a bit, sending chills up and down my exposed spine.

“I submit myself to you for the duration of our contract and any other moment I choose to wear your collar. I offer myself wholly to you to command, fuck, and be treated as your owned slut. Will master accept me as his whore?”

I felt the tickling lashes of the tiny whip’s tendrils across my back and heard him pacing around me. Taking his time, Master lightly flogged all of my exposed skin while I prostrated myself before him. The effect was similar to being caressed, with the added psychological thrill of it being a whip. Then, I sensed him kneeling behind me.

Unplanned, but so erotic and sensual, I moaned loudly when I felt the leather-wrapped handle of the whip rubbing over my cunt. I tried to remain still, but my back arched, pushing my molten sex against it, my breath coming out in panting sighs. Although he probed at my hole, gently and teasingly, he didn’t insert it.

“Then kneel, slut,” he said.

I raised myself upright, resting on my heels. My back was perfectly straight, my head held high, and my tits jutted out. His touch, like sexual feathers, brushed my hair to the side and I heard the soft “ting” of my new collar being pulled out of the box. His fingers massaged my back, then reached around to stimulate my nipples.

A sudden pang of fear ambushed my soul, but I fought it down, knowing that this was exactly what I wanted. My breath caught in my lungs, mid-gasp, when I saw his hands descend from over my head, the collar held between them. Taking his time, knowing the effect it has on me, he drew out my collaring.

Rather than simply lock it around my neck, he lowered the beautiful piece of bondage jewelry past my breasts, the cold metal gently swinging into contact with my flesh. With agonizing slowness, he let it dip between my thighs, moistening it with the flood gushing from my cunt. A fraction of an inch at a time, barely a millimeter, Master drew the collar upwards, running it over my nude body. By the time it inched its way over my stiff nipples, my stomach was heaving with my breath.

It seemed like a torturous eternity before the clasp locked around my neck. Upon hearing it click, enslaving me to the one person worthy of my eternal devotion, I sighed in relief. I was now owned and collared, his wanton slut of a whore to do with whatever he pleased.

The moment the collar clicked locked around my neck was a life-altering experience. It wasn’t what we were doing; it was the effect it had on my psyche. Comprehension of how I love, and what makes my lust boil, rushed into my consciousness as soon as the bondage necklace was clasped in place. It was an overwhelming torrent of positive emotions.

Being able to give all of myself to somebody without fear or hesitation, knowing that I’ll be accepted without judgment, is what allows me to love, unconditionally and wholly. Just as my love is intertwined with giving all of myself and receiving all of another, my lust is driven by being permitted to completely surrender to my desires. In addition to being collared, the realization that I had all of that in my life washed through my soul. I could love freely and fully; my constant state of lust was evidence of my complete surrender to my carnal self. Serenity and comfort with myself mingled with my intense arousal.

“I am owned, Master,” I said to complete the ritual. “Will you please fuck your whore like the slut she is?”

“Not yet,” the sadistic bastard guffawed. He got up and walked over to the dining table, “Serve your Master dinner, first.”

“But, but, Master, your slut is so horny.”

“And disobedient,” he added. “Does the slut need punishment…”

“Dinner’s coming right up, Master!”

As owned property, I served Master his dinner but was not permitted to eat from my own plate. Instead, I sat in a chair beside him, my manacled hands locked together in front of me and tied to my thighs. My legs were restricted from movement by convenient ropes tied around the legs of the chair and attached to my ankle cuffs. My Master would cut pieces of meat or scoop up some sides and feed them to me by hand. It was humiliating and degrading, but somehow sensual and arousing.

After dinner, I reminded him. “Your slut is horny, and you promised to savagely fuck her.”

Speaking out of place earned me a gag, and I was made to clean the plates and wash them off with my hands manacled together. When my task was completed, he removed the gag and commanded me to lie on his lap on the couch. Locking my wrists behind my back, my throbbing, burning pussy over his lap, my sadistic husband further denied me the sex I so desperately craved.

Turning on an erotic movie, one he knew I’d like, I was forced to lay there while his hands played over my body. My flesh ignited under his touch, and I could feel the wetness between my legs flooding out. His fingers played in my pussy, driving me right to the edge of orgasm, only to back off and renew his stimulating attack elsewhere on my body.

My tail was constantly manipulated, making me groan and moan in needy passion. He even wadded up the long fur and spanked me playfully with it. Before the movie, an erotic romance with scorching sex scenes, was even half-over, I was uncontrollably horny. Picking me up, he stood and laid me back down on the couch. His half-erect cock looked so inviting that I moaned in a needy, sexual fervor, begging for his manhood.

“You may suck your Master’s cock, slut,” he smiled at me. “If it goes down before the movie is over, you will be punished instead of fucked.”

“Thank you, Master. May your whore finger her cunt?”

“She may.”

Collared and willingly subservient, my submissive ass pushed him down onto the couch, and I feasted on his cock. I sucked it, forcing that turgid flesh as far down my throat as I could manage. My mouth vacuumed it to full hardness, the moans from my fingering and his playing with my inserted tail making his shaft vibrate. I kept him hard, pausing occasionally to tell my Master what a dirty fucking whore his sub was.

Then, Master pulled me off of him, my spit cascading out of my mouth, and bent me over the arm of the couch. To my delighted surprise, he roughly pulled my arms behind my back and locked my manacles into place. I was helpless, at his mercy, and unable to do anything but receive the savage fucking I’d been begging for.

“Fuck your fucking whore,” I begged. “Be brutal. Fuck your slut; you own me, own my cunt. It’s your pussy; you own it. Fuck your pussy, Master.”

My sexual nectar was pouring out of my hole, and my hips were humping the arm of the couch. I felt my husband’s thick cock rubbing against my cunt and thrust my hips back to try and get him inside me.

“Be rough, Master. Fucking fuck your whore. Slam that monster inside me deep and hard. Ravage me; fucking take me.”

Savagely, thrusting deep and long, he took me. The couch was creaking with his pumping, and my entire universe disintegrated into nothingness, only the bliss and rapture of my passion and the pleasure of his hardness slamming inside me remained. Knowing I had no choice but to receive the hard pounding, I could only accept that I was being gloriously ravaged.

His thrusting was so hard that each time he plunged into the depths of my cunt, my plug would be pushed out a little, popping back into place on every withdrawal. With one hand holding me by my hair as I screamed out my ecstasy, his other hand reached around my soaked thigh and found my clit.

“Can I cum; please let me cum. You feel so good.”

“Granted,” he said, releasing my hair and slapping my ass. “Cum for me.”

“Call me a slut, Master.”

“Cum for me, you fucking whore of a slut. Show your Master why you’re worthy of your collar.”

“Fuck, oh, fuck. Please don’t stop fucking me. I’m cumming.”

My cunt was contracting around his manhood, clenching and releasing. I felt it build with furious intensity, so quickly that I couldn’t catch my breath. Then, the pinnacle was reached as I moaned and swore in primal bliss, and my entire body exploded. Every nerve in my body had a simultaneous orgasm. He kept pounding me, going harder and harder, until all I could feel was his hard cock railing me into oblivion.

As the frothing peaks assailed my mortal flesh, Master tugged out my tail. Feeling the larger diameter of the bulbous part stretch my anus as he fucked me and fingered my clit through my orgasm set off another one.

“Fuck me, cumming again,” I screamed as if my body flailing about in the throes of passion wasn’t enough.

As soon as my second orgasm began to subside, he forced the tail back into my ass, filling up the hole and sending lightning bolts of arousal through my body once more. My Master used my cunt to serve his magnificent cock until I couldn’t move. My legs were weak and the muscles in the rest of my body had surrendered to exhaustion. I couldn’t count how many orgasms he forced out of me.

“If I pass out, keep fucking your whore.” I knew it was coming.

Giving me just enough reprieve from the brutal fucking, he stopped, his cock sliding out of me, and my cunt juice poured out of my stretched and used canal. Master picked me up as if I were weightless and gently lowered me to the floor. Forced into the submission position, my hands were tethered to a leg of the couch and a blindfold was tied around my eyes.

As soon as he pulled the tail out of my ass, I knew what was coming.

“Ask your dominant to take your ass.”

“Please take my ass.” His open-handed spank startled me, stinging a little, but not overly painful.

“Ask properly, slave.”

I almost came from his intonation alone. “Please fuck your slut’s ass, Master. Brutalize your whore’s back door. Use my cunt’s juice for lube because I’m not worthy of anything but being ravaged like a worthless slut.”

“As you wish.” His cock pressed against my ass, the tip of it invading my newly-stretched asshole.

I was so deeply in the thrall of horny lust that all I could do was groan, sigh, and beg for more. As soon as the head of his massive member cleared my sphincter, I thrust myself back, embedding as much of his cock in my ass as I could. My Master didn’t need to fuck me at that point; I was slamming my butt onto his cock with wild abandon, my pleas for him to be more brutal echoing off the walls.

With my asshole stretched to the maximum, his cock deeply burrowing inside my sluttiest hole, I felt the rapture build once more, quicker than ever. My mind had shattered, and my mouth was a constant fountain, spewing the obvious.

“Your dick is in your slut’s ass; it’s in my ass. Fuck my ass; please fuck my ass. I love your cock in my ass.”

Although my vision was blurring, my mind was turning itself off, so I could only process pleasure, and my body no longer followed my commands and moved of its own accord, I felt another orgasm, an anally-induced one, begin to overtake me. Chanting, “fuck my ass,” over and over, I found myself writhing under his constant, brutal fucking. Just before I went over the edge, he forced a small, vibrating toy into my cunt.

The dual sensations were sexual overload, and I screamed in wonderful agony, oblivion overtaking me. I convulsed all over the place, losing my ability to control my body. My legs and arms flailed as I flopped about, lost in the bliss of a soul-shattering orgasm. My nipples ignited with sexual fire as my ass and cunt clenched and released as one. Unable to breathe, losing consciousness to the intensity of the pleasure, the entire world fell away.

I don’t know long I was out of it, probably only a minute or less, but when my soul reentered my brutally-fucked body, I just sighed, running my released hands through my wetness. Opening my eyes, I saw him getting ropes ready.

“I, uh, I can’t cum, anymore, Master,” I told him.

“Challenge accepted, slut. Crawl to me, and I’ll show you exactly how many orgasms you have left in you.”

Laughing a little, I obeyed. On my hands and knees, my fucked ass sticking up, I crawled to him, laying my cheek on his foot. My husband helped me to my feet, manacled my hands together, and then tethered my arms above my head. I was bound and helpless once more. The blindfold was tied around my eyes once more, cutting off my sense of sight.

This time, instead of being his fuck-toy, a plaything to use as he saw fit, in whatever way he wanted, he made my body into a canvas, painting pleasure on my flesh. Ice on my nipples shocked me to moans, then sighs as the cool, melted water ran over my back and into my ass crack as he moved the ice over my body. Shrieks of pleasure, followed by whimpers of joy, burst from my mouth as something light and wispy, maybe a feather, tickled my clit.

I begged to be fucked when his still-hard cock slid between my soaked pussy lips, the head rubbing my clit. Then came a paddling. My thighs, ass, tits, and even my flushed cheeks were lightly, playfully pummeled. The light but frenetic beating made me gush more, and my skin lit up with heavenly fireworks, each nerve ending now connected to my clit.

First, he coaxed my body back to life, imbuing it with sexual desire instead of breath and blood. Then, he teased out a gentle but powerful orgasm, my cumming on his fingers as his cock probed at my entrance. After that, it was a horny blur of cum. I was flogged hard with the whip, screaming for him to hit me harder. Some hard objects were run over my sweating, overheated flesh, making my nipples tingle and another orgasm as the cold metal fucked my holes.

One of my toys, my Womanizer, was then used to suck my clit into three or four more orgasms, with me begging for him to stop but never using my safe word all the while. Master abused me into realms of pleasure I’d never traveled to, before. It was transcendental. Each kiss of the whip and every unknown item molesting my flesh raised my temperature higher and higher until my body exploded. He got me off in ways that I’d never even imagined, any handy item becoming a weapon of mass seduction in his hands.

When it was all over, several hours later, I was a molten mass of used sex, exhausted, dripping, and happy. My body was so weak from cumming so much that I was thankful my manacles were tied to a rope; I needed the support to stay upright. He always gave me the best sex I’d ever dreamed of, but this session had added heat.

The fact that I’d willingly submitted and was helpless to resist made it seem so dirty, so beyond my control, that my usual mental anguish of coping with what a horny slut I am didn’t haunt me. It was liberating to not have the demons of guilt ridiculing me because I want all kinds of sex, in every way imaginable, all the time.

To my surprise, Master held me in his arms, releasing me from bondage, and carried me upstairs. He gently and lovingly bathed me, words of respect, admiration, and other compliments soothing my soul. Then, without making me seek permission to sleep in his bed, he laid me down, covered me, in soft, warm blankets, and caressed me until I fell asleep.

I woke up late, slightly miffed that my dream of being forced into submission and sexually used had been interrupted. I was so fucking horny that the first thing I did was finger myself over how dirty, nasty, and torrid last night was. Master had used all my holes for his pleasure, giving me an overload of orgasms in the process.

I couldn’t wait to discover what else was in store. Our contract only had a little over a week left, but he’d run through a lot of my desires, combining them, adding imaginative creativity to them, and making me wish we’d explored this earlier. I was his to do with what he pleased, and it seems that keeping me in a horny, needy state of euphoria pleased him. While our contract had conditions, I knew, at that moment, that I had unconditionally surrendered to him. The thought that he pretty much owned me from the second we first met was acknowledged but ignored. I was having too much fun to even think about stopping.

The end.