Call Me Mistress

by Ann Onominos | Forum Feedback

© Copyright 2019 - Ann Onominos - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF/f; D/s; slave; cell; bond; cuffs; gag; bdsm; electro; punish; cage; box; torment; force; naked; outdoors; oral; anal; sex; reluct/nc; XX

story continued from chapter six

Chapter 7: So this is my station in life now……

In case you don’t remember from previous chapters, my b/f, now ex b/f, has sold me to a man who keeps me locked in a cell in his basement. So my story continues….

I have been held captive for about seven months now and have settled in to a routine which is tolerable. Actually, tolerable is too nice of a word. Survivable would be a better description of my life. The first five or six weeks were terrible. I was very defiant and downright angry all the time. If I was rude, I was beaten. If I was loud, I was beaten. If I was defiant, I was beaten. Food was withheld from me, as was sleep, whenever I did anything that annoyed my Master. I was forced to perform oral sex on my Master whenever he chose and was raped whenever he felt like it. My life was basically a living Hell.

After a while, I realized there was no way of escaping. The bars on my cell are made of thick steel. The walls are concrete. I don’t know how thick, but I could not even scratch the surface. When I did get caught trying to scrape the concrete wall with a spoon, my hands were immersed in very hot water as a punishment. You cannot dig very well when your hands are sore and tender. Eventually, after a few weeks, I realized I was better off cooperating with my new Master. I call him Master because he ordered me to do that. At first I wouldn’t call him that, but a few sessions with the rattan cane straightened me out. I now call him Master out of habit. I still don’t like it, but I do it anyway.

I will try to describe my cell, where I have to spend most of my time. My cell is about four meters square. It is located in the corner of his basement. It has steel bars on two sides and concrete walls on the other two. The ceiling also is made from steel bars. On the sides with the steel bars, there are two doors, one on each side, one door to enter my cell and one door leading into another cell. In my cell there is a toilet and sink in one corner and a small shower stall. There is a single bed, a small table with two chairs, and a small computer area where I can practice my writing. The shower door can be locked, preventing me from using it. When I do get to shower, there is a timer on the water so showers can not last more than five minutes. I have learned that shower privileges must be earned. If I am bad, I lose my shower privileges for a few days sometimes. I try to make sure that doesn’t happen.

I have been permitted to decorate my cell a little. I have hung some drawings I made on the wall. I asked for some photographs of my parents and sisters but that request has been denied so far, so I have to be content with drawings I made of them from memory. Although there is a door leading into the second cell, it is locked. I have never been in there, but I can see most of it. The second cell looks just like my cell, complete with toilet, shower and bed. I think this second cell was used to house another slave at some time, or maybe to be used that way in the future. At any rate, if the second door was to be open, I would be able to enter that cell. If I could use that cell as living quarters in addition to my own cell, I would effectively double my living space. I have asked Master about doing that for me and he said I would have to earn that privilege.

Next, I’ll try to describe my normal routine. The alarm clock goes off at 6:00 AM and the ceiling lights go on. I have just an hour to make myself look pretty. I take a quick shower, making sure to stay under five minutes for fear of punishment, and wash my hair. After shaving all my body hair except my head, drying my hair and putting on just the right amount of make up (Master does not like too much), I put my shocking dog collar on and get dressed in the clothes that have been laid out for me while I was in the shower. I also place leather wrist and ankle cuffs on and lock them in place with padlocks. I know if I look good enough, I will earn a good breakfast. I learned this the hard way. For example, once my hair was not properly combed and brushed, I received just bread and water while I watched Master eat eggs benedict. He always joins me for breakfast in my cell. If I look satisfactory to him, we eat the same thing.

After breakfast, I watch Master closely to see if I can guess what he wants. I know it is sex of some type. Generally, I stand in front of him with my hands behind my back and wait for him to lock my wrists together. If he does, then I know enough to get down on my knees and wait for him to put his cock in my mouth. I have gotten very good at fellatio and know how to please him. I know it is in my best interest to please him. Some days, he leads me to the bed and ties me up, usually spread eagle. He likes to rip the clothes off me after he has me tied up. When he does that, I know I’m in for a good fucking. He sometimes lets me cum, although it is after he has had one or two orgasms himself. After he has had his way with me, he unties me and leaves me alone in my cell to do my chores until mid morning. Chores include dusting my cell, making my bed, and straighten up in general.

Before I continue with my routine, I want to say a few words about the shocking dog collar. It is the one I used to use on Richard. It is activated by using a remote which Master always has clipped to his shirt pocket in full view. The shocker is also activated by me making a loud noise, simulating a dog barking I suppose, but, if I shout or even speak above a whisper, I get shocked. Before retiring for the evening, I must plug the collar into the charger so it will be fully charged by morning. The penalty for not plugging in the charger is a week in solitary confinement with only bread and water to eat. I’ll try to describe what that’s like later.

Okay, back to my daily routine. On days when he has ripped off my clothes I have to remain naked, until new clothes are delivered to my cell. He has a female servant do that. I will call her the bitch for lack of a better name. She is much older than me, about 50 I would guess. She looks Asian and is very mean to me all the time. She doesn’t say much, just barks orders at me. She always carries a cattle prod with her and I stay as far away from her as I can get and hold a blanket between us. The cattle prod is extremely painful and I learned quickly to stay away from it. Sometimes she pretends to jab it at me to make me jump back away from her. I think she does all the cooking. Sometimes I have to help wash dishes or perform other kitchen chores. If no clothes are delivered to me, I am naked all day until dinner time. If I am clothed, sometimes she just yells “NAKED” and I am to remove all of my clothes. Whether I am to spend the day naked or clothed, I always attach a long but small chain to my collar. This is my leash and will remain on all day.

Around mid-morning, it is time for me to work. Using the leash, I am led to the yard by the bitch. After arriving in the yard, Master takes over. I am almost always gagged in some way by him. I like a ring gag best for breathing purposes, but it is never up to me. Master decides everything. Sometimes he uses a stick tied to my head to make a bit gag. Sometimes it is a cleave gag or a ball gag. I don’t know why he gags me because I won’t yell out for fear of the shock collar. I think he just likes to see me gagged and further humiliated. I am forced to carry firewood from a large pile into the house. I then must carry water from the nearby stream. If I move too slowly, I get shocked with the dog collar. That is very painful, so I try to not let that happen.

Then, it is time to work in the garden. Master prides himself on his vegetable garden, but it is I who do all the work. I must use a hoe to loosen the soil and pull all the weeds. This is an ongoing job that never ends. I have to work four hours in the garden before my exercise time begins. Some days I walk or jog on the tread mill. If I am lucky, I am not tied in any way, but that rarely happens. Usually nipple clamps are applied and my tits are tied to the treadmill. Master likes to watch me jog. I think he likes to watch my tits jiggle. He always has a riding crop handy and uses it on my butt to amuse himself.

After my exercise session is complete, and if there is no more work to do, I am permitted to stay outside if the weather is nice. If it is rainy, I am locked in my cell all afternoon. If it is nice out, I get to be outside, but I still must be in some type of bondage. Sometimes I am locked in a cage or locked in stocks or a pillory. There is a tall steel pole anchored in the ground that I am sometimes tied to. On rare occasions, I am just tethered to the pole with a long chain attached to my ankle cuff but my wrists are still locked behind my back.

Once he put a leather hood over my head and used a paintball gun to shoot paintballs at me. He stayed quite a distance away from me, but I could hear the gun fire and then SPLAT! Those damn paint balls hurt like hell on my bare skin. I think he kept trying to hit my butt, but, being tethered and blinded by the hood like I was, I couldn’t tell where he was standing, so sometimes I was hit in the stomach and tits. I had several black and blue welts before Master was finished torturing me that day. He thought it was funny.

Master has several styles of medieval restraining devices to choose from. I hate the “bird cage” the most. It is small and I must sit inside with my knees up against my chest. Sometimes it is suspended several meters in the air after I am locked inside. It swings back and forth and I hear Master laughing at me. Twice, I have had to spend the entire night hanging in the bird cage with just a crust of bread for dinner. Another device I hate is the box. It is a wooden box a little less than one meter square. There is a hole in the top, just large enough for my neck. I am forced to get in the box with just my head sticking out. It is very uncomfortable and if a fly lands on my face I can do nothing about it except try to blow it off.

Once I am in the box, Master removes my gag. It must look like just a head sitting on a wooden box. My head! He does give me a drink occasionally, but usually ends up pouring a glass of water over my head. I am always kept locked up in some way until dinner. If I have to pee, that’s too bad. I just have to pee while in the box. There is of course a punishment for peeing in Master’s box. There is no midday meal here, just breakfast and dinner, so getting a good breakfast is very important.

Before dinner, I am released from my bondage except for the leather cuffs and collar. They are on all my waking hours, I’m afraid. We always dress for a semi formal dinner. My evening attire is always laid out for me on my bed. I usually get to take a quick shower before dinner. I get dressed and wait to be escorted to the dining room. The bitch does that. When we reach the dinner table, I am immediately locked to the chair by the bitch. She uses a padlock to attach my ankle cuffs to the chair. My arms are left free so I can feed myself. Now I must say a prayer, thanking Master for being so good to me and providing such good food for me. I try to act sincere when doing this because the penalty for not being sincere is to watch him eat while I get nothing, or, worse yet, be forced to eat dog food. He says if I act like a dog, I get fed like a dog.

I have learned to pretend to be a good slave girl so I get to eat. The bitch is a very good cook and the dinner is always good, if I get to eat it. Eating dinner with Master is a slow process, at times taking over two hours. It is at the dinner table where he is the most humane. He acts like we are on a date or something. He talks to me as if he likes me and if I am smart I do the same. If I am very pleasant to him, I even get dessert. I have learned to say things like, “Thank you Master, for letting me work in the garden today.” Or “Thank you, Master, for allowing me to carry the firewood today.” I also compliment him on his garden or anything else I can think of. I just have to pretend to act sincere. If Master thinks I am patronizing him (which I am), I will be punished. Once he said I was patronizing him and he locked a heavy iron ball to my ankle with a short chain for a week.

After dinner, the routine varies. Sometime I am taken back my cell for the night. Sometimes I must crawl on my hands and knees to Master and give him pleasure by sucking his cock. Sometimes I have to help clean up the dinner dishes and scrub the kitchen floor. A couple of times I was tied to a device something like a saw horse. I was forced to bend over so my torso was parallel to the floor and my arms and my legs were tied to the legs of the saw horse. I was also blindfolded. My ass was then whipped with a riding crop (I think) until it burned. I was then fucked in the ass, I think by the bitch wearing a strap-on dildo. I can’t be sure, but I think it was her.

Sometimes he hogties me and gags me and orders me to struggle to get loose. If I don’t struggle enough I get the riding crop treatment. On those days I am hogtied I have never gotten loose. He makes me struggle for three or four hours before untying me. Sometimes he mummifies me with plastic wrap and duct tape instead of the hogtie. I still have to struggle to get free, but never have yet. When the evening “entertainment” is complete, I am led back to my cell where I disrobe completely, take off the leather wrist and ankle cuffs, plug in the shocker collar charger, say my prayers, and go to bed. Master insists I sleep in the nude in case he decides to pay me a visit during the night. This happens about half the time.

Sometimes I wake up bound to the bed and don’t even remember how I got that way! One day, Master came with my breakfast and I was still tied to the bed and gagged! He laughed at me and told me I didn’t deserve any breakfast for not being dressed up for him. Then he climbed on the bed and proceeded to fuck me. After finishing, he got up and ate his breakfast with me still tied up! After he ate, he came back to bed and fucked me again! Then he untied one hand and let me get loose the rest of the way. He left my breakfast for me to eat. It was ice cold, but I ate it all anyway.

Well, this almost ends my story. I said I would describe the solitary confinement, so here goes. I am always blindfolded when entering the “solitary room” so I can’t be sure how it looks. The room is small, about one meter square. I would guess it is a closet when I am not locked up in it. There is absolutely no light at all. I can stand up and not reach the ceiling. There is nothing on the walls. The only thing in the room besides me, are two buckets. One has drinking water in it and the other is to poop in. The floor feels like wood and I must sleep on the floor. It is cold with no blanket or pillow. I am given fresh water and a small amount of food twice a day, but that is my only contact with the outside world. I have heard you can go crazy held in solitary and I believe it. I never want to suffer that again, so I try to behave. Master warns me when he is near the limit of his patience with me and I start to cooperate complete when I hear that.

One last subject I should mention before I finish. That would be some of the punishment I have endured. Master has a large yoke that he fits around my neck. It is about two meters long and is quite heavy. When I am forced to wear it, my hands are tied to it. I have had to wear it while walking around the tether pole in the yard for hours, until I collapsed from exhaustion. Another punishment is to work in the swamp all day. I have to bring up rocks from the bottom of the swamp and haul them to the shore. I have to do this all day. When I went back the next day, the rocks were gone. I think Master threw them back in the swamp! He can be mean and very sadistic. There are snakes in the swamp and he knows I am deathly afraid of snakes. When I come out of the swamp covered in mud, even my hair is covered.

Once I spoke out of turn at the dinner table and he put a clothes peg on my tongue. I couldn’t eat any more, but I had to sit there with that stupid clothes peg on my tongue until he was finished eating.

story continued in chapter eight