A Slave's Diary - Part 3
By Leslie McCormick
A female bodybuilder becomes the sex slave of a harsh and demanding mistress.


	Margo picked up the robe from where I'd dropped it on the floor, and put 
it around my shoulders.  I was trembling as though I was cold, though my entire 
body felt hot and flushed.  She led me out onto the terrace, and told me to 
wait.  She went into the house, only to return minutes later.  In one hand, she 
carried a black leather satchel.  She put it down.  She came over and embraced 
me.
	"It'll be scary at first," she said.  "The first time always is.  But 
don't worry.  I'll be here the whole time."
	"What's going to happen?"  I found it hard to believe how nervous I was.  
I couldn't stop my limbs from shaking.  My stomach was doing slow rolls in my 
body, and my teeth were chattering.  I felt as though my legs would give out 
under me.
	"If you want us to stop, all you have to do is say so," Margo said.  She 
held me at arm's length, then leaned closed and kissed my lips.  Her mouth was 
warm and soft, and her breath smelled like fresh mint.  I found myself 
responding, but before things progressed too far, she pulled away from me, and 
opened the satchel.
	"Take off your robe," she said.
	I did as she requested.  The sun was warm on my skin, but I was still 
shaking as though with the ague.  The brazenness I'd felt earlier had vanished, 
and I was beginning to have second thoughts about this.  I knew nothing about 
these two women, and here I was, surrendering myself to them.  For all I knew, 
they could be psychotic or worse.  Yet, my curiosity was stronger than my fear.  
I bit my tongue, and let Margo proceed.
	She took a pair of fleece-lined wrist restraints from the satchel.  They 
were approximately three inches long, and were attached by a short length of 
stout silver chain.  She buckled my hands behind my back, cinching the 
restraints tightly enough so there was no possibility of slipping my hands free.  
A second pair went around my upper arms, just above the elbow.  This brought my 
elbows together, and forced me to arch my back, thrusting my breasts even 
further from my body.
	Next was a collar.  It was thick black leather, with D-rings on three 
sides.  It was wide enough to prevent me from looking down, though I could 
easily move my head from side to side.  Margo threaded the straps through the 
buckles at the back of my neck, and pulled them tight.  It felt like a pair of 
hands tight around my throat.  My mouth went dry.  Margo came around to stand in 
front of me.
	"Can you breathe?" she whispered in my ear.
	"Just barely."
	"Good," Margo replied, and kissed me again.  This time, the tip of her 
tongue insinuated itself between my lips.
	I was more sexually excited than I'd ever been in my life.  I was panting 
as though I'd just run a race.  There was an intense tingling feeling in my 
pussy, and I felt as though I had to urinate.
	Margo took a long length of thin rope, and made a loop in one end.  She 
slipped this over my left breast, sliding it down until my entire boob was 
through the loop.  With a quick, practiced motion, she pulled the loop tight.  I 
jumped, and squealed.  I couldn't help it.  It was such a sudden and unexpected 
feeling.  Margo wound the rope once around my neck, then made a loop in the 
other end of the rope, and captured my right breast in a similar fashion.  With 
the constricted blood flow, my tits darkened, and swelled.  The rope pinched my 
skin, but I scarcely noticed the discomfort.  All my attention was focused on my 
boobs.
	"This will make you more sensitive," Margo said.
	To demonstrate, she flicked a finger against the swollen wall of my 
breast.  It felt as though a powerful surge of electricity had raced through me.  
I squealed again, and danced away from her on tiptoe.
	"Come back here," Margo said.  I slowly walked back to where she was 
standing.  Her brow was creased in a slight frown.  "If you run from Susan, 
she'll give you the whip," she warned.  "I don't think you want that on the 
first day."
	I said nothing.  Margo looked at me for a few seconds, then reached out 
and stroked my left breast.  It felt like I was being tickled with a feather.  
By now, my pussy was dripping.  My clit felt as hard and erect as a miniature 
cock.  I couldn't believe that I was getting off on this.
	"Wait a second," Margo said.
	Once again, she went into the house.  When she returned this time, she 
held a two-foot long bar in her hands.  Fleece-lined cuffs like the ones on my 
wrists were attached to either end of the bar.  Kneeling, she fastened the cuffs 
around my ankles.  The bar made walking difficult to walk, though I could manage 
if I was extremely careful.
	"One last thing," Margo said.
	It was a belt that fit around my waist.  D-rings orbited the outside of 
the belt.  A thin leather strap dangled from the belt's front.  Margo went 
around behind me, reached between my legs, and grasped the strap.  She then 
pulled it back between my legs, and fastened it to the back of the belt.  The 
strap was much too short to reach comfortably, and it cut deeply into me.  I 
could feel it rub against my engorged clitoris, and feel it press against my 
anus.  The feel of it against my crotch was erotically stimulating.  I'd never 
felt so hot in my life.  I was in a sexual frenzy, and would have done anything 
to reach orgasm.
	Margo ran her hands down my back, her fingers lingering over the ridged 
muscle, and touching the smooth skin of my gluteus.
	"So beautiful," she said, in a voice so faint that I had to strain to hear 
her.  "You're ready.  Don't be afraid, Leslie.  Don't say stop.  You want this.  
I can tell."
	I'd never felt so helpless in my life.  I was completely restrained.  The 
feeling was both frightening and exhilarating.  The conflicting emotions fought 
for supremacy.  My heart was pounding so hard, I felt certain it would crack one 
of my ribs.
	As if on cue, Susan appeared from the house.  The sight of her took away 
what little breath I had left.
	Over her head she wore a form-fitting black leather hood.  It was 
obviously custom-made, because it clung to her scalp and face like a second 
skin.  The hood had holes for her eyes, nose and mouth.  Aside from that, it 
covered her head completely.  If I didn't already know it was she, I wouldn't 
have recognized Susan.  She wore a collar similar to mine around her neck, but 
it had studs instead of D-rings.
	A custom-made Latex bodysuit with cutout panels for her breasts covered 
her from neck to crotch.  A small weighted bell dangled from the ring through 
her nipple, and it tinkled faintly as she moved.  She wore thigh-high boots with 
stiletto heels.  Black gloves covered her hands and arms to the elbows.  She 
held a cat o'nine tails in one hand.
She walked slowly over to me.  I could feel her eyes devouring my body.  
She looked sleek and exotic and dangerous.  When she looked into my eyes, I 
moaned deep in my throat.  She was the mistress, and I was the slave.  I saw 
that message clearly in her gaze.  She hadn't yet touched me, and already, she'd 
dominated me with her will.  For a brief second, I panicked.  The thought of 
losing control was terrifying.  In the past, I'd always been the one in charge.  
That was no longer the case.  I wanted to turn and run, but I suppressed the 
urge.  My curiosity was still stronger than my fear.
	"What have we here?" Susan said, walking over to me.  The tendrils of the 
cat o'nine tails flicked lazily back and forth.  I couldn't take my eyes off the 
whip.  I wondered how it feel on my swollen and sensitive boobs?  Would it hurt, 
or would it be pleasurable?  Susan reached out and took hold of the strap that 
ran between my legs, and tugged on it experimentally.  The strap pressed against 
my clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.  Susan drew off one 
glove, and put her bare hand between my legs.  The tips of her fingers 
insinuated themselves beneath the strap, and into my pussy.  The ball of her 
thumb pressed against my clit.
	"You're wet," Susan said.  She removed her hand and put her fingers into 
her mouth.  "You taste very good."  She dipped her fingers into my pussy again, 
wetting them.  I thought she was going to taste me again, but she raised her 
hand to my mouth, and pushed her fingers between my lips.
	I'd never tasted pussy before.  Once, at a competition in Tucson, another 
competitor and I had gotten drunk on tequila.  When we got back to the hotel, we 
did some awkward fumbling, and masturbated each other to climax, but I'd 
fiercely resisted licking her.  I'd been repelled by the idea.  I thought the 
taste of my own juices would make me gag, but instead, I found I liked it.  I 
sucked Susan's fingers hungrily, reveling in the taste.  She was pleased by my 
reaction.
	"Are you excited?" she asked.
	"Yes," I said.  I barely recognized my own voice.  It was thick and hoarse 
with unfulfilled passion.
	"Yes," Susan agreed.  She moved to stand very close to me.  I could smell 
her perfume, and feel the heat radiating from her body.  The nipple of her 
breast lazily brushed against mine.  I sucked in my breath.  Her eyes were 
locked on mine.  It was as though she was looking down into my soul.
	"Let's see what you're made of," Susan said.
	She took the nipple of my left breast between thumb and forefinger.  Her 
touch was electric.  I jumped.  Susan smiled, and began to squeeze my nipple.  
It hurt at first, and 
I tried to twist away, but Susan kept a firm grip on me.  She twisted the nipple 
from side to side, 
and as she did, the pain was gradually replaced by a throbbing in my cunt.
	"How does this feel?" Susan asked.  She dropped the cat o'nine tails, and 
captured my other 
nipple.  The feeling in my pussy intensified.  My legs began to shake 
uncontrollably.
	"Won...Won...Wonderful," I gasped.
	"Do you want me to stop?" she teased, releasing the pressure.
	"No," I shouted.  I was close to having an orgasm.  I could feel it.  
Every nerve ending in my 
body was alive, and I was tensed for that exquisite release I could feel 
building in my cunt.  I 
could no longer control my bladder.  I began to urinate.  Although it shamed me, 
it excited me as 
well.  I'd never pissed in front of anyone before, and somehow, the degradation 
only fueled my desire 
and excitement.  Without warning, I fell, painfully, to my knees.
	Susan didn't let go of my nipples.  Instead, she pulled on them even 
harder.  Someone was 
moaning openly now, and with a shock of surprise, I realized it was me.  I 
caught my lower lip 
between my teeth in an effort to control myself, but it was a futile gesture.  I 
teetered on the edge 
of orgasm.  Despite my excitement, I needed one last bit of stimulus to put me 
over the top.  Susan, 
wise in the ways of domination, provided it for me.  She leaned down, and put 
her lips close to me 
ear.
	"Slut."
	That one word, whispered in my ear, was enough to open the floodgates.  I 
experienced the most 
intense, mind-altering orgasm of my entire adult life.  Susan had said aloud 
what I'd secretly known 
about myself for years.  I was a slut.  Despite my recent celibacy, I knew the 
depths of depravity to 
which I could sink.  I knew the sexual escapades of my youth, and I knew that 
only a slut would have 
participated in them.  I'd tried to block the thoughts from my memory, I'd tried 
to change my 
lifestyle, but it'd been to no avail.  I was a tramp.  I knew that about myself, 
and now so did 
Susan.
	I felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.  I knew, 
without being told, that 
Susan accepted me.  Her acceptance was unconditional, with no caveats or 
conditions.  I belonged to 
her, and so long as I did, no one or nothing could hurt me.

	I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember is awakening in 
a darkened bedroom.  
A thick coverlet covered me.  It wasn't yet dark, because I could see traces of 
sunlight around the 
edges of the shade that covered the window.  I threw back the blanket, and got 
to my feet.
	My restraints had been removed, except for the collar around my neck.  It 
was a different 
collar than the one I'd worn earlier.  It had D-rings on three sides like the 
other had, but it was 
thinner in width, and was a more supple leather.  I tried to remove it, only to 
find that the buckles 
were held in place with tiny locks.  I was still nude.
	There was a full-length mirror attached to the rear of the bathroom door.  
I looked at myself.  
There were no markings on me.  My nipples still tingled from Susan's pinch, but 
that was an internal 
mark, not an external one.  I looked as healthy and fit as I ever did.  
Experimentally, I raised my 
arms, and flexed my biceps.  They rose to their normal round peaks.
	I tried to tell myself that I looked the same, but couldn't.  There was 
something indefinably 
different about me.  I couldn't put my finger on it, but my face looked subtly 
changed to me.  The 
shadow of pretended innocence that I'd carried around for years was gone.
	I left the bathroom, and went to the bedroom door.  Margo and Susan were 
sitting in the parlor, 
drinking tea.  They were both dressed in conventional clothing, and for a 
moment, I doubted whether 
my earlier experience with them had been real.
	"You're awake," Susan said.  She got lithely to her feet, and came over to 
embrace me.  Her 
hands slid down my back to my ass, where her fingers pinched and probed my rock-
hard gluteus.
	"Where are my clothes?" I said.  "I have to go."
	My earlier daring-do had vanished completely.  I felt ashamed and 
humiliated.  I refused to 
meet Susan's eyes, and stared at the floor.
	"Don't be ridiculous," Susan said, releasing me.  "You're not going 
anywhere."
	"I have to go," I repeated.  "I don't belong here."
	"On the contrary," Susan said.  "You belong here totally and completely."
	"Please," I said.
	Susan walked back to the sofa and sat down.  She picked up her teacup, and 
took a sip.  Her 
eyes studied me over the cup's rim.
	"If you really want to go," she said, "all you have to do is say the word 
'Stop'.  It's that 
simple.  If you say that, I'll have Margo get your clothing, and you'll be free 
to go."
	The word was on the tip of my tongue.  I could feel it sitting there, 
could almost taste it.  
That's how strongly I felt at that moment.  Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I 
couldn't make my mouth 
actually say the word.  Because if I did say it, Susan would turn me out, and 
she'd never let me 
back.  Of that, I was certain.
	One of the reasons I'd sworn off relationships since my divorce was my 
fear of falling back 
into my former lifestyle.  Before meeting my husband, Bill, I'd been a near 
alcoholic.  I'd starting 
drinking on Wednesday evenings, and continue non-stop until Sunday.  When I 
drank, I always drank too 
much.  I didn't know when to stop.  That behavior usually led me into trouble.  
I couldn't count the 
number of times I'd wake up in some strange man's bed.
	Bill was the first man to protect me.  He got me to stop drinking, and 
turned me on to the 
bodybuilding lifestyle.  It was he who got me clean, and put me on the path to 
health.  But, though 
he loved me, Bill could never forget or forgive my formerly promiscuous nature.  
He coerced me into 
telling him about my sexual experiences.  I was reluctant at first, but he 
insisted, and I finally 
gave in.  It was the worst mistake I ever made.  The knowledge of what I'd done 
ate away at him.  It 
eventually turned his love for me into hate.  I hung on for too long, convinced 
he would revert to 
the loving man I'd first met.  By the time the truth sunk in, I was an emotional 
mess.  So, I'd sworn 
off all relationships, and devoted myself to bodybuilding.  I channeled all my 
energy, sexual and 
otherwise, into my training.
	It had paid off.  I won competitions, and I began to earn a good 
reputation.  But then the 
bodybuilding world turned toward fitness contests, and I began to find myself 
increasingly out in the 
cold.
	If I said the word 'Stop' to Susan, that was what I had to look forward 
to; a lonely life in a 
world that didn't want me.  It wasn't an attractive alternative.
	Still, I was unsure whether I wanted to commit myself to Susan.  I was 
intelligent enough to 
know that I was a submissive personality, but did I want to subsume myself in 
another person?  What 
if she began to despise like Bill had?  That would be a rejection I wouldn't be 
able to handle.
	I looked at Susan.  She arched an eyebrow, but otherwise, made no gesture.  
I didn't know what 
I was going to do until I walked over to her, and knelt before her.
	"May I stay?" I asked.
	Her hand touched my bowed head.  "You may."
	"Thank you," I said.  Emotion overcame me, and I buried my face in Susan's 
lap, and shed silent 
tears.

End of Part 3