‘We need a cover story for you so that your husband doesn’t think anything strange is going on. You will tell him that you have obtained a contract to sell ladies underwear. Women will come to the house for small parties in which they will try the range of goods, and you will make a little money. There must be no men in the house when the parties take place. That will account for the different outfits that you will wear to entertain my clients and will account for the money you will appear to spend on a few other things that will be made known to you in due course. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ I whispered.
‘Louder.’
‘Yes.’ Might as well let him think he’s in charge.
‘Good; a case of goods will arrive later today, you will try them on to make sure that they fit so that you can model them for the women who will come later in the week.’
So that was it, underwear parties, not much harm in that. I had heard they could be fun and it sounded like a good scam he had going there. I did worry for a moment that I might be used to sell some over-priced rubbish, but I figured I could complain when the goods arrived. I wondered where the “guests” came from. Did he have some other racket going? Maybe he recruited women off the Internet. Would I have wanted to go to a female only party where some housewife stripped and modeled everything I’d never dared to try? You bet I would. I guessed some of the visitors would end up without much on, so the guys watching the video feed would get a good show. What man would not want to be right there in the middle of a hen party full of half-naked women trying on underwear. I wondered what sort of stuff I would be wearing.
Hubby was home that evening. I was curious what his reaction would be. I’d already decided that I would go ahead anyway because it would all happen while he was away.
‘I can’t see any harm in it, love,’ he said. ‘You might make a bit of money and you’ll meet some people. Probably good for you.’
That was a relief.
‘I wouldn’t mind watching,’ he said.
I giggled at that. I hoped the cable guy was listening, that had to be good for his marketing. I knew he couldn’t listen to everything we said because he must have to keep up with the other women he had on his system. Maybe he had some men on his system too; that was a wild thought. The guy had to sleep some of the time. I had seen the woman with her vacuum cleaner, so there was at least one other like me.
Whatever the odds were, it still felt like he was listening when I was talking to Derek. I had become an actress overnight, feeding a script to my husband. It made me feel wicked and sad at the same time. I’ll tell him one day, I thought. I’ll have to tell him one day, but I’ll do it somewhere the cable guy can’t listen… and will I tell him I want to keep doing it? Would he let me? He would if I was making money, I thought, and maybe I could. I could tell the cable guy he couldn’t blackmail me if Derek knows, but maybe I could keep working?
The package arrived the next day. Well, more like a case arrived, with quite a wardrobe in it. I got them all out and spread them across the bed. There was a lot of very sexy stuff as well as some quite kinky things like handcuffs and a chastity belt. I tried a few things on and sure enough they were all my size. The cable man was obviously a good judge even if he had only mostly seen me on a TV.
He must have been watching, because he phoned a few minutes later.
‘Glad to see that they fit. There is another job for you; tell your husband that you are going to get some work done on the lighting so that you can show off the stuff better. Tell him that the suppliers are going to pay for it. I’m sure he will agree.’
‘He’s away for a couple of days on work,’ I said, realising that if he had been listening all the time he would have known that.
‘Well, you’ll just have to explain it when he gets back; the fitter will be coming tomorrow. You are to be naked and wearing the wrist and ankle cuffs when he comes. He will be there at 8:30, so be ready.’
Wow, that was an order I was not expecting! I got out the cuffs from the set and found there was a metal tag label on it with the word ‘slut’ on it in cut out letters. The tag was about three inches across and you could read the words from several yards away. It looked like it was supposed to be attached to my collar so I put it on. It felt wild wearing it; it connected with something in me. I could feel myself getting wet as I felt the weight of the tag on my neck. I was trembling slightly as I put on the heavy padded cuffs, first on my ankles and then the wrists. I did them up firmly. There were big D rings on each, strong enough to hold my weight, I thought. I could imagine being strung up by them; I could see myself hanging from the ceiling, though there was nothing in the ceiling I could be hooked to so it was just a fantasy. It made me even wetter thinking about it. I decided to wear the cuffs and collar all day.
After a while I was really enjoying the feeling; in a funny way there was a sense of freedom. Strange to say freedom when you are wearing cuffs, but it made me feel open about myself, about the fact that I knew deep down I liked being a slave. When I was collared and cuffed there was no doubt who I was. Really I wanted someone to see me looking like that. I found myself posing in front of the places where I knew there was a camera hoping that someone was looking. In the evening I cooked myself a meal, and then phoned Derek at his hotel, and all the time I was dressed as a slave and could feel the cameras exposing me to the world.
Then came the big decision; should I sleep in them? The cuffs were no problem, but what about that big tag around my neck? Would I be safe? I didn’t want it to get caught up in the bed clothes and strangle me, but I didn’t want to take it off either. I turned up the heating so I would not be cold and slept naked on top of the covers. I wanted to leave the light on in case there was anyone watching, so I got a blindfold out of the underwear set and put it on so I could sleep. I must have looked great, naked, collared, cuffed and blindfolded. If anyone was watching I wanted them to really wish they could come over and play with me.
The big problem was what pose to be in. The more I lay on the bed the more restless I got and I wanted to play with myself all the time. At that rate I’d never get any sleep. Derek has some dumb bells for exercise; two different sizes. I tied a rope to each and fixed the rope through my D rings. I hauled the one on my right arm up and down to be sure I could lift it if I had to and then shoved each one off the bed so my arms and legs were spread. I hung the heavy ones from my legs and the lighter set on my arms. I fell asleep spread-eagled naked on the bed, imagining men watching me, jacking off in front of their TVs. I hope they didn’t lose too much sleep. I slept like a top and woke up feeling great.
I felt bad about taking off my slave gear to shower but I didn’t want the leather to get wet. It would be better to have metal cuffs, really, and then they could stay on all the time. I fantasised about that for a while in the shower. The thought of permanent shackles made me feel wet. It would be painful to be hung up by them, and maybe they would break the skin if I had them all the time. I obviously didn’t know too much about being a slave.
I got myself dry and ‘dressed’ as a slave again to wait for the light fitter. I wondered if playing with me was part of his fee. I reckoned that the cable man would be able to get the work done cheaply if I was thrown in as part of the package. What electrician would refuse a job if he knew there was a naked slave around the house who would do whatever he asked? I was sure of that, I didn’t even need to be told; I was his for the taking. Just before he arrived, I thought, what if the electrician is a woman? There are women in the trade. Wow that would be wild; I’d still be her slave, but that was something I’d never even thought about before. Wearing the collar and cuffs was beginning to open up areas in my head that I didn’t know were there. I knew I was getting wetter by the second when the door bell rang.
I don’t know what I was expecting. I opened the door, naked, collared and cuffed and there was this small, neat man in a blue coverall with a bag of tools. There was a inconspicuous white van parked on the drive. He looked me up and down, smiled and reached out and clipped a lead onto my collar. It took my breath away; he obviously knew what to expect and was ready for me. Before I had a moment to think he had put the bag inside the door and then led me outside. I think he did look up the street to see if there was anyone there, but he managed to give the impression that he wouldn’t have cared if a crusade of nuns were walking by. He led me to the back of the van and opened it.
‘Pick that up,’ he said, indicating a large brown box. Without letting go of my lead he picked up an even bigger one. He turned and started towards the house and I followed, holding the box, with my naked back visible to anyone who happened by. I could feel the sun and wind on my skin; it was thrilling, though scary. I half hoped he was going to lead me off down the street but they could hardly go on blackmailing me if the whole neighbourhood knew I was a naked sex slave on a lead. We were inside in another moment. He put the box down and clipped my lead to the handle, cuffed my hands behind me and walked back to his van, leaving the door open. He slammed the van doors, locked the cab and came back inside, finally closing the front door.
‘Show me the room.’ I led him into the living room and he looked around.
‘I need to see the electrical boxes.’ For half an hour he looked around the house, finding how he could run the wires. I hoped he wasn’t going to make a huge mess. I had heard of contractors wrecking houses when they do re-wiring, but he seemed confident.
‘Okay, I’m all set,’ he said, and unclipped my lead. ‘You can get on with housework, I won’t need you for an hour.’
I didn’t know what to do; half an hour of being a slave on a lead and I was powerless. I expected to be told what to do. I hung around the kitchen, washed the dishes, did a bit of work with the vacuum and somehow the hour went by. I wished he would tell me what to do. It was weird, but as soon as he put that lead on me I had dropped into a part of my personality that I was only now discovering; I was completely submissive. I didn’t really want to get my old self back, not while he was still there and might need me on a lead at any moment. I wanted to be led down the street naked, hooked to a lamppost like a dog, completely exposed for others to be entertained by.
He called me back after about an hour. There were two old fashioned wall lamps on the wall. They looked great, top quality fittings made of lovely wrought iron, and below each was a large ring. What really spooked me was a big diagram on the table that he was working from. It was a scale drawing of the room with all the internal wall beams marked so he knew were to attach things. That didn’t come from pictures down a TV cable; was there anything about me and my house that these guys didn’t know?
‘Here,’ he said, as if I was a dog. Well, I was wearing a collar, so what did I expect? He stood me between the two lights facing the wall and lifted each arm in turn to cuff me to the rings. It took no time at all, and there I was, arms stretched out facing the wall. He ran his hands over my naked bum
‘Got to test the strength of this,’ he said, and the next thing I knew a whip hit me. I’ve never been whipped before so it was a total shock. I screamed and struggled but the rings held. I don’t know what he used to fix that stuff to the wall but after ten lashes I was almost hanging off the rings ready to feint completely. My back was on fire.
‘Good, that seems to hold okay.’ He might have been talking about a washing line.
‘Bit boring that way round for you.’ I was too weak to struggle as he unhooked me and turned me round and re-attached me facing into the room. He reached down and gently inserted his finger into my crack and played with me. What could I do, I was wet as hell and my pelvis surged forward onto his hand. He had me cumming in about two seconds and then I was really hanging on the rings, washed out like a rag. I just hung there; the fittings had obviously been tested properly, but he didn’t show any sign of taking me down. I thought I must look great; he had positioned the lights so that I was exactly between the two cameras. They could get a great view from either. I was wondering what he was going to do next when the door bell rang. I froze; who could that be? What would he do, what if it was some friend of mine, would he let them in to see me like this?
‘That’ll be my mate,’ he said, ‘helps me with pulling the wires and hanging the big fitting.’ Oh God another one.
I hung there from the wall while he went to the door and let someone in, and then he was back. My insides went through two somersaults; it was a woman. She looked at me and smiled in a way that left me in no doubt that I was going to find out if I liked it with women before she left. There was not going to be a lot I could do about it if they kept me like this.
A huge crate was wheeled in and they unpacked a chandelier. I don’t know what it was made of, but it looked like wrought iron. Maybe they had a tame blacksmith, or perhaps if was steel with some sort of coating on it for the effect. Who knows, but it looked awesome, like something out of an ancient dungeon. The room was going to look brilliant. Apart from the look there were these heavy rings hanging from it, so it was obvious that I was probably going to…
