And so it was the following morning that I awoke late, yawned lazily and swung my legs out of bed and onto the plush carpet of my bedroom. Brushing my teeth in the en-suite bathroom I contemplated my days work ahead, the further training of my new slave.
Years of anticipation seemed to have allowed me to slip in to the role of a Master with great ease, and rather than allowing myself to become over excited about things, I realized that I must keep calm and focused if I was to have any success in creating a perfect slave.

After a leisurely breakfast accompanied by several cups of coffee, I dressed and made my way down into the cellar, shivering at the cold blast of air that greeted me upon opening the intervening door and feeling glad I was wearing a thick pullover.

In the cell to the left, huddled in a protective ball lay my slave, shivering from cold and anticipation.

She looked up as she heard me approach, and sat half upright, instinctively crossing her thighs to hide her hairless sex, and cradling her breasts in her free arm, in a futile attempt to protect her modesty. How soon the memories of her last lesson had faded.

She eyed me cautiously, forgetting completely her instruction never to look her Master directly in the eye, but I let this go. I made a mental note of the transgression though; it would be dealt with later.

“Sleep well?” I inquired, somewhat sarcastically.

Her eyes finally dropped at this comment

“No, I couldn’t” she muttered in return.

Again I made a note of her sullen tone and her reluctance to answer with enthusiasm.
“Stand up” I ordered.
She hesitated. I could hazard a guess that she had probably spent most of the night analysing her current position and agonizing over the moral dilemma her forced obedience had created.

It was not in her nature to stand to attention, naked, at the sole request of a man who had yesterday inflicted more pain upon her person than she had ever dreamed possible.
Nevertheless she began to stand, her body stiff and aching from her night on the concrete floor of her cell, her progress hampered by the fact that she was still trying to protect her modesty as she struggled to rise.

“Put your hands on your head and turn around, slowly!” I commanded.

Again the hesitation. Despite the fact that every part of her body had been scrutinized the day before, she insisted on trying to maintain an air of modesty.

“Now!” I barked.

Reluctantly, her shoulders dropping in temporary defeat, she linked her fingers on the top of her head, involuntarily pulling her pert breasts up and out, and began to shuffle round, her face reddening with renewed embarrassment.

With satisfaction, I noted yesterdays weals standing in criss-cross white lines across her rump, and a particularly angry looking slash across her breasts, perfectly dissecting her right nipple.
“So do you feel ready to carry on with your training?” I asked, reasonably

“I…” her voice tailed off, unsure as to what to say that wouldn’t enrage me.

I waited patiently

“I… Its just…you mustn’t use the whip on me, I don’t…I cant”
her voice broke into a sob as she recalled her lesson of the previous day.

“ Answer me this,” I asked, leaning closer to the bars of her cage

“If I allowed you to go now, would you leave?”

She caught her breath, astounded at what she had heard.

“Would you let me?” she asked, hardly daring to suggest it

“That’s academic” I replied,

“I repeat, would you leave?”

“ Yes!! I mean, where would I go? I don’t know” she burst into about of fresh sobbing

Sighing I unlocked the cage door, she looked at me warily as I guided her firmly to the centre of the floor and deftly cuffed her two wrists together in one fluid movement.

“Oh no…” she began, trying to pull away from me, her eyes wide and panic stricken

“You can’t….” she spat through gritted teeth, trying in earnest now to break free from my grasp.

It was not difficult to raise her flailing arms above her head and cuff them to the ceiling ring.

Despite her obvious entrapment, she continued to writhe, hoping against hope that the chain between her cuffs would snap, or that the lock would fail. She was un-rewarded.

Not bothering to cuff her ankles this time, as I warily viewed her kicking, protesting legs, I walked over to my selection of tools, this time choosing a long thin switch

I balanced it delicately in the palm of my hand, feeling its weight before addressing my captive.

“We don’t seem to be learning very fast, do we” I intoned, facetiously

In truth, I was not surprised. I had expected this reaction. It was far too optimistic to expect a subject to submit herself to you after the first beating, however severe. It was basic human instinct to make at least a token gesture of defiance, even in the face of overwhelming odds and this was it. I also knew, with almost certainty, that I would be easily able to defeat this latest show of impudence during today’s instruction.

I waited patiently for her futile writhing to finish, her head hung limp, the sudden surge of adrenalin she had felt, combined with her ordeal of the previous twelve hours had taken the fight from her.

“Somewhere in you, deep down, there is a need to be dominated.” I began simply.

“From where this need originates, we cannot know, I can only tell you that you are not on your own, and a great many people share your desire, either to be dominated or to dominate.”

I paused to gather my thoughts. I had her full attention; even her sobbing had subsided to a whimper.

“ For most people, these needs will go unrecognised, undeveloped, and they will never have the opportunity to experience what their heart is telling them is right.
For some people, being tied to the bed with a silk scarf by a gentle lover is enough to satiate their curiosity. I, on the other hand, am personally supervising the development of your particular needs.

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