Emily stood in front of the full-length mirror. She had never used it before. This house was still new to her. It was his house. Except that now it was her house too. Just as she was now his. She would always be his.
She examined her reflection. There wasn’t much time. Her hair and makeup were fine. The dress looked good, even if it wasn’t what she was used to. It was important that she look her best. This was a big night. Her introduction to a different kind of social position. One that was both more rarified, and at the same time far lower.
Emily could hear the guests down the hall. She looked away from the mirror to the hallway. There was a menacing quality to the darkened hall, to the place that it led. She told herself that it was only going to be a few people having drinks. It didn’t help. Emily returned her gaze to the mirror. Better the mirror than the hallway.
No, the little black dress wasn’t what she was used to. Emily pulled down at the hem, trying in vain to stretch it over her asscheeks. If it had been any shorter you’d be able to see her pussy. Emily hadn’t worn any panties. Master told her not to.
Master. She had a master. The sky was blue, the month was April, and Emily had a master. Such a simple word to be able to change so much. Simple and unforgettable. Master had seen to that. Emily’s dress had a low neckline for two reasons. The first, of course, was to put her cleavage on display. Just as Emily herself was to be put on display. The second reason for the low cut was to show off the golden collar that had been sealed around her neck.
Collars varied from slave to slave. There were all kinds of features available. Some were shock collars for discipline. Some stimulated the nerves for pleasure. Others had more esoteric features to train, to amuse, to monitor and control. Emily's master had chosen none of these. Her collar did absolutely nothing.
No fancy gadgets. No pleasure, no punishment. Master believed in taking care of that himself. The collar was solid metal. However, a great deal of care had gone into its construction. It was the strongest permaseal collar you could buy. If Emily had wanted, she could have found out how it worked. She could have read about alloy melting points and durability, of metals that fused on contact. She didn't bother. It didn't matter how her collar had been made. What did matter was that she couldn’t take it off. Not ever.
Emily fingered the smooth golden band with its ring on the front. There was no way of explaining away her collar. It was by no means uncomfortable. However, it was also unambiguous. It wasn’t a necklace or a choker or any of the thousand other statement pieces a woman might wear. It was a slave collar, pure and simple.
It wasn’t until now, as she saw herself in the mirror, that she realized how obvious it was, how it would redefine the way everyone looked at her. Emily shook her collar, as if willing it to be temporary would make it so. She felt a thrill of fear. It would never come off, not ever. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she would wear that collar for the rest of her days.
Her hands dwelled on the ring that was attached to the front, the ring that would be used to chain her up, to put her in her place, to limit her from going anywhere her master didn’t wish her to go. For the rest of her life, every single person she met would see her collar and know that she was someone who had her decisions made for her. Everyone would know. But that wasn’t what mattered most. The important thing was that Emily would know.
She had known when he had made his offer. She had known when she signed the enslavement papers. She had known when he had held up the collar and explained its inescapability. She had known when she had knelt before him as docile as a lamb. She had known when she had bowed her head and let him wrap the collar around her neck without a word of protest. And she had known when she heard the hissing sound of the metal sealing shut forever.
Every time she looked in a mirror, every time she touched the gold around her throat, every time she felt its weight or its snugness, she was reminded of a truth as inescapable as her collar. She had chosen this. She had traded freedom and independence for a gilded cage. What did that say about her?
She hadn’t had a choice. Her luck had run out. Far better to take Sir’s offer than to trust in fate. It was safer to arrange her own sale to a man she knew and liked than to let the enslavement company auction her off to the highest bidder. So far it had proven to be a good decision. Sir’s training had been gentle, his manner kind.
Those were the things she had repeated to herself ever since Sir had collared her. Seeing her reflection and being faced with her future made her doubt herself. Had she really tried as hard as she could to avoid this? Had there really been no choice? There was no way of being sure. There would never be a way.
Emily heard footsteps. Master was coming. She was filled with a sudden urge to run, to hide, to do any one of a hundred useless things. It wasn’t him she was afraid of, or even the party. She was afraid of the truth.
“There you are. Are you ready?”
“Yes…”
“Yes, Sir,” he corrected, but he did it without anger.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. Sir. The word still felt strange on her lips.
Without warning, Sir leaned down and ran his finger across her pussy. Emily let out a gasp. Sir held his finger in front of her eyes. It was wet with her juices.
Here was the thing she hadn’t wanted to face. Enslavement was an unfortunate occurrence. But to be turned on by it? That was shameful. Had her kinks gotten the better of her? Deep down, had she wanted this to happen? Had she made it happen?
Emily stared at the slut in the mirror. Her collar was more than just a symbol of enslavement. It was a mark of her shame.
“Good girl,” Sir smiled.
Emily looked up in shock. It was a foreign idea that something so shameful might be greeted with affection. Good girl. It was the most demeaning of compliments. But at the same time, it was a welcome thing to be accepted, to be told that she didn’t have to be ashamed anymore.
Sir reached into his pocket and drew out a golden chain. Click. Emily had been leashed. She suspected that she’d be wearing it a lot. Her leash was a perfect match for her collar.
Her leash. She had a leash. Emily returned her attention to the mirror. The picture she presented was even more clear. She’d been leashed like a dog. That’s all she was. A luxury pet, kept at the end of a priceless leash that denied her even the slightest degree of freedom.
“Just remember. A leash has two ends.”
Emily’s eyes went to the hand that held her leash, binding her to him.
A leash has two ends.
Yes, a leash went both ways. Where he went, so did she. But when Emily went somewhere, Master would be there too. There was comfort to be found in that. Emily’s eye flickered to the hallway. It didn’t seem quite so frightening now.
Master let go of the leash and took out a pair of golden shackles separated by a short chain.
“Hold out your hands.”
Emily hesitated. There was something she wanted to ask, but she wasn’t sure if she had the courage. Saying it would be an admission about herself, about what she was.
“Could I… Could I have my hands behind my back?”
There was no mockery or judgement in Sir’s face. Merely understanding.
“As often as you like,” he said gently.
Master pulled her arms behind her and fastened her cuffs. Click. Click. Then he picked up the end of the leash again and wrapped it around his fist.
Emily strained against the thin chain that kept her wrists close together. She squirmed as she struggled in her bondage. Her boobs popped out of her dress. Emily stared down at her still jiggling breasts. She couldn’t put them back in. She couldn’t even cover herself with her hands.
Master carefully fixed her dress and gave her back her modesty. It was a kindness he didn’t have to grant. If he wanted, Master could take her out with her tits on display and there would be nothing she could do about it. Emily began to doubt her decision. With her hands behind her back she could do nothing for herself, be nothing but what Master wanted her to be. Sir guessed what was on her mind.
“I’ll hold your drink. I’ll take care of everything.”
I’ll take care of everything. The words were a reassurance. They both knew that he wasn’t just talking about drinks, or about this evening. Emily checked herself one last time in the mirror. She liked what she saw. Yes, she was a pet, a very special pet. Sir’s priceless treasure, to be cared for and bound in golden chains.
Sir gave her leash a slight tug and began to lead her towards the hallway. It didn’t look forbidding, but welcoming. A passageway to a new life, to a world where her kinks would be celebrated and embraced, where her bondage was a source of pride and her helplessness a sign of her master’s devotion. It was all waiting for her.
“Are you ready to meet my friends?”
Emily smiled. “Yes, Sir!”