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" She wanted to belong to him, to be his possession. Was that the same thing as love? She didn’t know.
She was almost relieved that he’d switched gears again, becoming her stern Master once more. Tenderness from him was wonderful, but confusing. She didn’t want to think about anything right now. She just wanted to be here, in this strange store, crawling for him.
She reached his side and peeked up at his face. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes as he said casually, "Turn around and do it again. And this time arch your back more. I want to see that cute bottom sticking up."
Her face flamed, but Marie obediently turned around and started crawling back the way she’d come, trying to push her ass out and up as she went. She knew he had a perfect view of her pussy as her thighs moved, propelling her down the aisle. The chain between her breasts swung as she went. The humiliation made her pussy start to throb again.
When she had come full circle, she hesitated there on her hands and knees, looking up at him for approval. The hopeful expression on her face was enchanting, but he just said briefly, "Good. You can sit up."
She leaned back on her heels, her thighs modestly pressed together, and he frowned. "Spread your legs more," he ordered, sounding impatient. "I shouldn’t have to keep telling you I want to be able to see your pussy."
Marie’s flinched at his hard tone and hastily parted her thighs. It was hard to keep her legs open like this, but she realized she loved kneeling before him. It felt natural somehow, and it made her feel safe. She saw that he’d stopped next to a display of collars, many of which came with a matching leash. There were big, menacing iron and steel collars, dog collars—some with words printed on them, mostly "Slave," or "Slut," plus a few that said "Bitch"—leather collars, and some delicate metal ones that could almost pass for necklaces, if it weren’t for the shiny loops, made for attaching a leash, that hung from them. "Choose one," he was saying.
Her eyes scanned the selections. To be perfectly truthful, she liked the thick steel collars the best, the ones that looked like something a real slave would be forced to wear. But she didn’t know how often, or where, he was going to make her wear it—maybe she should pick one of the more discreet items. She was reminded of a question she hadn’t voiced yet. Hadn’t he said she could ask three questions? She looked up at him, remembering not to talk, but trying with her expression to ask permission. Amazingly, he knew just what she wanted. "Have another question?" he asked. She nodded eagerly, and he gestured for her to go ahead.
But now she couldn’t figure out how to phrase what she wanted to say. "How often—I mean, will you want—" She broke off and started again. "Can I still keep my normal life?"
For a moment she wasn’t even sure what she’d meant—and then, only then, did she realize how much her entire life had been shaken to its roots. That there was now a before and after, and how sharp the divide was between them. She was afraid he’d take offense at the question and watched carefully for his reaction. To her relief, he was calm and direct and seemed to have understood perfectly what she was asking. "I have no desire to interfere with your studies or your social life," he said. He smiled evilly. "But I will demand a lot of your free time."
Well, that didn’t exactly mean he wouldn’t make her wear her steel slave collar to class, Marie thought, but she was somewhat reassured. Timidly she reached up and touched a package containing one of the shiny steel models, not the largest one, but not the smallest, either. She saw him raise his eyebrows and blushed again.
There was only one kind of leash that could go with the collar she picked out, so Marie wasn’t surprised when he slid a four-foot chain leash, with a leather loop for a handle, off its hook and over his wrist. She watched him sort through the collars she’d pointed at until he found one he thought would fit her and removed it from its packaging. She didn’t question his expertise or his right to take what he wanted from the store.
"Stand up," he said, and she did, feeling very small next to him. He tilted her chin up, making her look at him. "Last question."
She swallowed, trying to think. She knew he was about to collar her, asking for a commitment. She thought it would be a long time before she got tired of being his—right now she could barely imagine going back to her quiet, vanilla life of two days ago. But she needed to know what she was letting herself in for. "How—how long?" she stammered. She tried to turn her face away but he held her chin firmly. His expression, however, was benign as he replied, "We’ll just see how it goes, princess."
She smiled waveringly, the endearment as always making her throat tighten with tears. She nodded.
His face turned very serious then and he shifted his grip, closing his hand lightly over her throat. "Do you want to become my property, princess?"
"Yes, Sir," she whispered, without hesitating.
"Think about it," he growled, his hand tightening slightly. "You’re going to be mine, to use however I want to, when I want to. I’m going to humiliate you," he warned, watching her flushed face closely. "I’m going to punish you. Are you willing to suffer for me, princess?"
His words enflamed Marie. It was as if he were reading off a list of her deepest, most secret urges, the things she’d always wanted someone to do to her, for her. A little cry of lust and joy escaped her as she closed her eyes and swayed on her feet. He held her up, and when she opened her eyes he was staring at her intently. She opened her mouth and started to say, "Yes!"…just as he grabbed the chain at her breasts and ripped the nipple clamps off.
It was as if the scream had been ripped from her at the same instant, the pain jumping from her nipples directly to her throat. It hurt so much that she would have fallen to her knees—except that he seized her hair and yanked her upright, making her shriek again. He made her stand on her feet then thrust his face into hers. "Do not make this decision lightly…princess!" He spat out the last word, his saliva spraying her face. "This is not a game!" He released his hold on her hair so suddenly that she staggered slightly. He slapped her pussy, hard, with his open palm, then shoved his thumb inside her and worked his middle finger ruthlessly up her ass so that she seemed to dance, whimpering, in the palm of his hand.
He brandished the collar in her face with his free hand. "You put this on and you’re mine, do you understand? Not just when you feel like getting laid. Every…second…of every…day!" He jerked the hand, the one she was skewered on, up hard to emphasize each word, making her cry out each time. "You put this on and you do what I tell you, the instant I tell you to do it. Your only purpose in life will be to serve me. I will give you pain, pleasure or humiliation as I please, use you or ignore you as I choose, and you will thank me for all of it. Is that…what…you…want?"
He jerked her up even harder with each of his final words, then tore his hand away and watched as she collapsed to the ground. Marie fell in a sobbing heap at his feet and cried piteously for a long time. But eventually, slowly, she calmed and became quiet. Then she raised her face, still streaming with tears, to his and whispered, "Yes…Master."
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