Six months after graduating from college I found myself under mixed circumstances. On the positive side, my computer degree had landed me a terrific freelance job as a consultant. The hours were flexible, the pay was fantastic, and it allowed me to relocate to the San Francisco bay area. My projects usually required brief, intense periods of work lasting a few weeks at a time, followed by a few weeks of down time. My colleagues used this time to catch up with their families, but as a single 23 year old girl, I tended to get bored. In college I had been a member of the cheerleading squad, and I was used to the action that accompanied that activity. Here I was surrounded by career-obsessed married men who were always 10 years older than me. I had dates, but they did little to alleviate my boredom. There was one interesting person I worked with, though. Carrie was the receptionist at our office. She was attractive and younger than me -- maybe 21. Despite her best efforts to conceal her true nature by dressing professionally, there were too many clues to her true nature. I immediately recognized that she was wearing a corset under her suit, and that on Monday mornings she always worked to hide the handcuff marks on her wrists from the office workers. I was the only one who noticed...everyone else was fixated on their work. I never mentioned my suspicions to her, but our shared sense of humor and more than a little veiled sexual tension quickly turned us into friends. Our appearances were almost polar opposites: Carrie was 5'3" with very short straight blonde hair and blue eyes, and a fit but curveacous body with noteworthy breasts (no doubt accentuated by her corset). On the other hand, I was 5'10", more athletically built, with naturally dark skin and long jet-black hair in a soft wave. We had just completed another "rush" project and were having lunch before I started my time off work. As usual, I was bemoaning my failed attempts at adventure and romance. "You know, I might know of something that would interest you." She said mischieveously, locking her eyes on mine and smiling as if concealing a tremendous secret. All right, I thought, I'm game. "Really. Would this be something that's somehow related to your 19 inch waist, or your fondness for wearing really long sleeves every Monday morning?" I taunted. Her smile grew wider, then she continued in an ucharacteristically direct manner. "I thought you might have noticed that. You see, I'm a submissive. A sex slave. I spend most of my weekends in the Union Building near the Trocadero club downtown. Once I show up Friday night, I'm not free to leave until Sunday evening. Does that shock you?" Again, the eye contact. I thought about it before I answered, but I held her gaze. It did shock me, but more importantly, it excited me. I thought and formed my answer. "No, that doesn't shock me." I replied, holding her gaze, "It excites me. I want to try this." "It can get a little rough, you know," she confessed. "When you're held captive, they really do torture you and make you bend to their will. It's scary, but very fulfilling." I think she was testing me. "Look, I've never been tied up in my life. I've never been with another woman. I've always wanted to try bondage and lesbianism. I look at you -- you're happy, and every Monday you're back at work, so obviously this isn't life threatening. No, I definitely want to try this." My playful tone briefly gave way to seriousness as I underscored my committment. "I can't promise that you'll be picked my my Mistress. I know she'll want you, but if another Mistress picks you first, we may not see each other all weekend." She added. "If that happens, you won't see me for two weeks. I want to spend my entire vacation in a dungeon." I responded. She looked at me almost in disbelief, and then paused. She finally spoke. "I think we should go there tonight. Do you have anything to wear?" I noticed that she had leaned in closer. "Can you help me find something?" Four hours and nearly a thousand dollars later, I was standing in the back part of The Stockroom wearing a full-length black rubber hobble dress and matching opera gloves, a metal slave collar, and 5 inch locking stilletto heels. The dress constricted around every inch of my body, as Carrie zipped the heavy-duty zipper from my ankles up my back to my neck. When combined with the heels, the tight dress made walking a challenge and running an impossibility. I felt sexy. Our next stop was Carrie's aparment where she did my hair and makeup before dressing herself. She undressed in front of me, showing both her locking metal chastity belt and the locking hasps on her black leather corset. A red leater miniskirt went over the chastity belt, and with my help she laced the black patent stilletto boots up to her thighs. She concealed her breasts with a latex bra, and then added her own 3" locking collar and 2" locking wrist and ankle cuffs. Where I was a fetish femme fatale, she was a slutty submissive. In fact, we both were stunning, by any standards. As it turned out, a wealthy patron of the club routinely sent a limo out to collect several of the submissives, and it arrived outside just as we finished dressing. Once in the car, Carrie began to explain what was happening a little more. "The Trocadero is what we call a 'front door.' New dommes and subs can be introduced in the club, and established ones can use it as a meeting ground to find each other. The bartender keeps a record of which bottoms leave with which tops, as well as an expected return time. This is an added safety feature for the bottoms. Tonight I'm being sold to Mistress Rachel from Mistress Holly, and I'll be taken to her dungeon for the weekend. Before I go I'll introduce you to some of the other players, and maybe you'll find something that intrests you." I took all of this in, listening intently. "As you probably guessed, there's a protocol for all of this. Mistress Holly will order me to introduce you, and you are not to speak unless spoken to during this process. If you're unbound when we meet everyone, that means you're just getting oriented. If you choose to be restrained, then the Mistresses know that you're ready to be taken. You and the mistress can then determine how long you will be incarcerated." I wished I could touch myself throught the thick rubber of the dress. She continued. "You can simply observe tonight if you want to get more comfortable. If you think you may want to submit to someone, they'll want to see a demonstration of your training or potential. The club holds contests where dommes and subs can show their abilities. My mistress usually enters me in the contests just to watch me; you might want to try it." --- And then we were there. The club was a two story building that had been a warehouse in the 20's and 30's. Now there were two doors leading inside. The first led to the main floor which was basically a techno dance club. The que leading inside was nearly a block long. The second door led immediately into a freight elevator going upstairs, and anyone not in true fetish attire was turned away immediately. We took the elevator up, drawing admiring glances from everyone in the que as we entered the building. The upstairs only covered half of the building. The side facing out over the dance floor was floor-to-ceiling glass, affording the dancers a partial view of our playground. I noticed several TV monitors around the dance floor which appeared to be showing closed-circuit feeds from the upstairs as well. Voyeurs and exhibitionists must love this place, I thought. The music was more quiet in the play area. In addition to the glass wall there were three exposed brick walls, with the room's ceiling 15 feet above us. The area was strategically illuminated by track lights which highlighted the various bondage devices throughout the room, as well as the small stage opposite the glass wall. The sides of the room were lined with tables, booths, and couches for the patrons. The center of the room contained the toys: a large metal cage that could easily hold four slaves, which was currently empty; a smaller cage which could barely accommodate one person on all fours, also empty, a vintage barber's chair with leather restraints built in, a bondage table with stocks at the head and foot; a St. Andrews cross, and a pair of old-fashioned pillories. Additionally numerous chains dangled from the ceiling. I guessed that as many as 20 people could be restrained on this equipment at one time. I scanned the room first to identify the staffer. I noticed a short, muscular man with a brush-cut in black leather pants and a black t-shirt with a ring of keys on his waist quietly surveying everything, including us, and I suspected that he was a bouncer. There was also a bartender, a thin blonde woman in her 30's wearing a purple rubber dress, cleaning glasses behind the bar. There were a other patrons. The first couple I noticed was a tall, bald, powerfully-built black man, perhaps 25, wearing rubber pants and a rubber t-shirt that looked ready to burst under the stress of his frame. His eyes were hidden behind black Gargoyle sunglasses. Sitting across from him at their booth as a stunning, light-skinned black woman who looked about my age, wearing a white bra-panty-garter set with matching heels. It took a second to realize that her hands were cuffed in front of her, and that a black rubber ball gag was around her neck, ready to silence her. They talked quietly as she kept her eyes cast downward. There was also a tall, thin middle aged couple with slightly graying, professional looking haircuts. She ware a dominatrix's black leather jumpsuit ala' the Avengers; he wore black leather shorts and a heavy leather collar, by which he was being led around on a leash. They were examining the cages. Finally, there was another girl about my age, shorter than me but similarly built, with unnaturally red hair and full, beautiful lips, wearing a red bra, panties and heels, carrying a duffle bag. I watched as she prepared for the evening all by herself. First she locked a leather chastity belt around her waist and between her thighs, careful to snug it securely. Then she put on leg irons, then a heavy leather bondage belt with D rings around it and two heavy padlocks buckling it in front. Then she gagged herself. She put a very large foam rubber ball in her mouth, then taped her mouth shut with several thick bands of tape. Then she produced an elaborate leather head harness. Her entire face below her nose was obscured by the leather. She then blindfolded herself before attaching the hood over the blindfold. Straps ran under her chin, around her neck, and over her head, holding the whole thing in place very tightly as she padlocked it onto herself. To do this blindfolded must have taken practice. The then hung a sign around her neck which read "Property of Mistress Anya", lastly cuffing her hands behind her to the leather belt. she was now totally helpless and unable to see or speak, and she had no sign of her escort being present! I shuddered with fear and delight at her predicament. While I had been surveying the room, Carrie had been studying me. "The black couple are here almost every weekend. He never restrains her, but you can see she's very well trained. She won't speak or make eye contact unless he tells her to. When there's more of a crowd he'll make her lick his boots in front of them. She never goes on the auction block like I do, but sometimes she'll be entered in the competitions. The older couple I haven't seen before -- probably tourists. Very few male subs here. The girl who just tied herself up is a lifestyle submissive: 24/7. She's safe here, but it wouldn't be at all surprising if someone took it upon themself to put nipple clamps on her, or give her a spanking while she waits for her mistress." "Tell me about the cages." I asked. "The big cage is where they place slaves for the contest. On a busy night like we should have tonight, they may have 6 slaves, all tightly bound, pressed against each other in there, each waiting for her turn to compete. It's delicious!" Just then the Mistresses began to arrive. The first off was Carrie's Mistress, Mistress Kathryn. She was also young like Carrie, and wore a black leather miniskirt and black lace bra under a white silk blouse. The attire seemed conservative if this setting, but it was stunning. She had the same hair style as Carrie, but jet black hair. She walked right up to us, and on cue, Carrie dropped to her hands and knees and kissed her shoes. "This slave exists to serve you, Mistress." Carrie said in a voice so that all near us could hear. Mistress Kathryn allowed the grovelling to continue, but otherwise ignored her. She smiled at me and extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Mistress Kathryn. You must be Carrie's friend Stephanie. I'm glad you could join us." I shook her hand, somewhat bewildered. "I'm sorry, Mistress...do I call you Mistress? Should I be doing what Carrie is doing? I'm very new to this." "No, you're doing beautifully. You start out here as a guest, and you're the equal of everyone in the playroom. It's common courtesy to address tops as Master or Mistress, but you don't have to submit until you've identified yourself as a slave. You look lovely, by the way...I adore that dress!" Carrie continued to lick her heels. "I'll be happy to take you on as a slave for the weekend if that's what you want, but you might want to play the field first. There might be another Domme who is a better match for you. However, if you enter the contests, you can bet I'll be the first one whipping you. Mmmm, virgin flesh." I took that as a compliment, after a fashion. "Carrie, on your feet, position two, and don't speak. I don't know why, but you're already on my bad side, little girl." Her smile suggested to me that Carrie was in for a welcomed spanking. Carrie stood up, clasped her hands behind her, and cast her eyes on the floor. The elevator returned. As the doors to the freight elevator opened, the first one stepped out. Everyone in the playroom stopped and looked, and with good reason. In a word, she was Amazonian. A 6' tall, muscular yet feminine body in a rubber minidress and 5" heels, with strawberry blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. Her body was flawless, but it was her face that intrigued me. In contrast with her fetish dress and the bullwhip and handcuffs which hung from a belt around her waist, she wore stylish but very normal eyeglasses. This gave me the impression she was saying "Here I am, this is who I am, not just a fantasy." Before I had been excited, now I was getting wet. She walked purposefully over to the bound slave in the corner and held her close, whispering something into her ear. The slave responded by pressing against her affectionately. Now I knew who Mistress Anya was. I thought about it and decided that I would have endured the same rigors as her slave in order to be with her. The elevator was returning with more guests. This time it was a younger Asian woman in thigh high boots and a body harness which regrettably covered her private areas. She had a leash by which she was leading her slave. The slave was in a slutty bra-panty-garter ensemble and high heeled mule shoes, and her torso and arms were tightly bound in white rope which looked inescapable. Her skin revealed that she was caucasian, but a leather discipline helmet prevented me from seeing more. The helmet had neither eye nor ear holes, and I could see a bulge where the ball gag must have been under it. A red ponytail stuck out the top of the hood. I imagined how the rope must be digging into the poor girl's wrists, breasts, and crotch, and again I became envious. I knew already that I wanted to be a part of the scene. "I know who I want to leave with." I whispered to Carrie. "I want to belong to Mistress Anya." Carried smiled but remained silent. Mistress Kathryn responded however. "Most of the Mistresses here are like me, what we call 'two day terrors'. They have normal jobs and lives, and just take prisoners for the weekend and the occasional weekday overnight. Mistress Anya is a lifestyle dominatrix. Her slave is under her control round-the-clock, 24/7. She won't 'play' with you, she'll really try to control you. And she's good at it. Is it worth that risk to you just for some fun and games with a hot chick?" It was the risk that made it worth doing, I thought. How would I fare with two weeks at the hands of this Goddess? "I know what I want." "Okay, then we have to change plans. If you enter the contests, there's not telling who you'll leave with. If you want Mistress Anya, we have to be more...daring. Carrie, prepare her in the stocks." When I nodded my assent, Carrie led me over to the stocks in the middle of the room. She whispered. "I'm going to lock you in these, and then Mistress Kathryn will and interrogate you. I'm going to put a microphone in front of you so that everyone in the club can hear you when you answer her questions. If you say the right things, there is a good chance that Mistress Anya will examine you. If not, you'll be the club plaything for the rest of the evening -- that's another seven hours, if you don't realize." My heart was racing now as she opened the stocks. She unzipped the zipper on the back of my dress up to my waist. First I stepped forward into the half circles at my feet and she closed the wooden restraint behind my ankles, locking the catch. My legs were spread about three feet apart at the ankle. it was mildly uncomfortable now, but I could tell it would become agony after an hour, as would the awkward position my heeled feet were in. I leaned forward, placing each rubber-gloved wrist into the appropriate half-circle on the top of the stocks, finally resting my neck in the larger center opening. Bending forward like this caused the stiff rubber dress to shift off my body. leaving me completely exposed from the midriff down. Just as Carrie closed the stocks over my wrists and neck, I realized that I wasn't wearing any underwear. Again, I heard the click of the latch being secured. The spotlight on my bondage device suddenly became brighter, and attention in the room was shifting to me. I was instantly overcome with the embarassment of my predicament. Instinctively I struggled against my bonds. I was immobile, awkwardly bent forward with my legs splayed apart, my eyes cast at the floor in front of me. With effort I could raise my chin and look around, but I knew that this would be impossible after only a few minutes because of fatigue. I was getting scared, and even wetter. After I was completely secured, I looked up at Carrie, who suddenly had a worried expression on her face. "Oh God, I'm so sorry." She said, "My Mistress made me do this. You'll be okay, though. Just do exactly what she tells you, no matter what." She hurried off only to be locked in the large cage by another Mistress, where she watched me intently. I knew at that moment that I was going to get more than I had bargained for. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Masters and Mistresses, Lowly Slut-Slaves, may I have your attention please." It was Mistress Kathryn's voice over the PA system. "Tonight we have a special treat. The lowly creature you see in the stocks before me used to be known as Stephanie, although I think we can come up with a more fitting name than that. She fancies herself something of a submissive, even one worthy of the attention of someone as perfect as our own Mistress Anya!" The crowd laughed at that. "So tonight she is ours. If her peformance pleases Mistress Anya, she will be incarcerated. Otherwise, we'll have our fun tonight and then I'll just keep her locked in my basement for the rest of the weekend. Let's begin, shall we?" The crowd cheered and applauded. "Question one: what is your name?" "My name is..." a sharp sting of a whip across my ass stopped me cold. "You're not a person anymore. You're a slave, an object. You will refer to yourself in the third person only. Answer 'This slave is...'" "This Slave is named Stephanie." I responded quickly, only to earn another painful swat. "No Slave, you surrendered your identity when you submitted to me. You have no name until I give you one. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress." I quickly realized that my 'interrogation' was really a training excercise. More often than not I guessed incorrectly on questions of slave protocol, only to be whipped and corrected. After an hour, my neck, back, thighs and feet ached from the restraint, any my poor ass was incredibly sore, yet the exercise continued. "Have you ever been fucked by a woman, Slave?" "No, Mistress." "Have you ever been fucked up the ass, Slave?" "No, Mistress." I was crying now from pain and humiliation. "Well then, I think it's about time." A different female voice said this, coming from behind me. Mistress Kathryn suddenly wedged a ball gag in my mouth, tightening it severely, then she sat in a chair directly in front of me. I felt gloved hands on my tender ass, and then a plastic phallus rubbing up and down my crotch, sliding on my wetness. Then unceremoniously, the intruder plunged into my asshole. I screamed into the gag and bucked helplessly. The pain and shock passed quickly, and suddenly I was having the most erotic experience of my life -- bound and gagged, I was being publicly fucked in the ass by a strange woman with a strap-on dildo. My orgasm was almost instantaneous as a howled into the gag and shuddered violently while the fucking continued. The crowd cheered wildly. Mistress Anya walked up to Mistress Kathryn, looked at me with what appeared to be only mild interest, and said, "I'll take her." I may have tried to resist as unseen hands removed me from the stocks, but I was exhausted by my torment and would have been ineffective. I can't remember. I remember feeling my dress being zipped back on me, and having handcuffs and leather straps placed on me, leaving me helpless. A leather hood was placed over my head with the gag still in my mouth, sealing me off from the world. I was carried over to a corner and placed on my side on the floor. I passed out from fatigue. I awoke again after an uncertain amount of time to feel more unfamiliar hands carrying me to the elevator and then to another car which seemed to be a van of some type. Frightened and disoriented, I struggled in vain. My captors were silent as they drove me for about an hour until I was taken in a new building. I heard the sound of metal doors slamming, and then the hood was removed from my face. I was in a dungeon cell, 10x10, with three concrete walls and steel bars, illuminated by a lone incandescent bulb high above me. Before me were Mistress Anya and her slave, whose restraints had been removed but her gag remained in place. With the same practiced efficiency I had seen earlier, she unbound my hands and arms chaining them above my head to the back of the cell, leaving me seated on a metal cot. She removed the remaining leather straps, refastening one about my waist to the cot, leaving me sitting there. She looked at Mistress Anya, who nodded silently, and then she removed my gag, then returning to kneel at her Mistress's feet. Mistress Anya silenced me with a look, reminding me of my place. I worked my jaw, glad to be free of the gag. Time passed, and she spoke. "I take on only one or two slaves each year. This allows me to be selective and very thorough in my training. Make no mistake, I chose you, despite that little floor show you and Mistress Kathryn put on at the club. I've seen the paperwork. You're completely mine for the next two weeks. The rules are simple: I demand complete, unquestioning and immediate obedience. You will learn or be punished. Do you understand?" Her voice continued its firm but indifferent tone. "Yes, Mistress." I replied, surprised at the weakness in my own voice. "I choose to name you 'Puppet'. You will answer to that name alone. Say it." "Puppet, Mistress." "What is your name?" "I...this slave's name is Puppet." I caught myself. "We'll begin training tomorrow. Tonight I'll have slave Pet demonstrate proper obedience." She removed Pet's gag and clothes, and had her stand facing the side wall with her hands pressing against it as if she were about to be 'frisked' by a police officer. She then affixed nipple clamps to Pet's ample breasts. She said 'open and accept', and placed a large dildo in Pet's waiting mouth, then placed a running vibrator in her ass. "Eyes forward. Don't speak or move until I return. Silent ackowledgement, Slave." Pet blinked once slowly to indicate she understood her orders., but otherwise didn't move. "I'll see you tomorrow." Mistress Anya said, and then left, locking the cell door behind her, leaving me chained to the wall. Pet remained motionless, sucking on the rubber cock while the vibrator buzzed away in her ass. She made no effort to look at me. "Pet?" I asked in a whisper. No response. "How long have you been here?" She remained as a statue. I thought about how to interact with her. "Will you be punished if you move? How will she know?" Nothing. "Can you blink for me like you did for Mistress Anya?" Surely she would do this! Nothing. "Does she really have that much control over us?" My final question, and the only one to earn a response. A single tear rolled down Pet's face. The night passed slowly in our windowless cell. My bonds weren't terribly uncomfortable but they prevented sleep. The only way to track the passing of time was by watching the rhythmic breathing of Pet, and listening to the batteries slowly fade in her vibrator. I had plenty of time to take in my surroundings. First was Pet, now naked except for her shiny, polished metal collar which had clearly been welded in place. The red coloring in her hair concealed what her real color was, and her shaved body kept the secret. The cell was unpainted concrete, smooth to the touch, with sturdy metal eye bolts strategically placed in it. Beyond the steel bars was a narrow hallway running parallel to the cell, yielding nothing to me. I was seated on a metal cot mounted the rear of the cell. It appeared tolerably comfortable, if I were able to lie down. The cell was spotless, as though it had been washed that very day. The only sounds were from an industrial blower in the distance that must have been supplying the dungeon with air. Fear gave way to boredom which gave way to daydreaming and fantasy, and suddenly I was again aware of my circumstances. I was being held prisoner by a cruel and beautiful Mistress as her sex slave. Before me was an example of her work, an stunning and completely obedient sex toy with whom I would doubtlessly be forced to engage in acts of perversion. I looked at the rubber dress, folded neatly at the edge of the cot. I examined the sturdy leather cuffs on my wrists, and the brass padlocks which held them there. I savored the gentle but ongoing strain in my limbs from what had now been hours of bondage. I imagined being impaled again by the strap-on dildo that had taken me at the club. My sex again became moist and my nipples erect, but there was nothing I could do about it...or was there? "Pet, you have to help me. I know we're locked in this cell and you can't let me go, but I need you to touch me." She opened her eyes but remained silent and motionless. "I'm helpless over here. Wouldn't you like to kiss a helpless Slave on the lips? Or maybe pinch my nipples? I know...Pet, slip your dildo inside me. Just once. Then you could taste me while we wait for Mistress Anya. I promise I'll never tell. Our secret, between slaves." Pet first looked around with her eyes, and then turned her head ever so slightly, verifying that the coast was clear, and then she hesitated again. "Come on, Pet!" I nearly hissed, trembling with excitement. Wordlessly she came over to me, withdrawing the dildo from her mouth. The vibrator in her ass and the clips on her nipples swayed with her motion. "You must never tell Mistress." She whispered, looking me in the eyes. I immediately noticed an English accent. "I promise. Pet, please fuck me with your dildo." I begged. She smiled and slowly slipped the cock deep into me,then quickly withdrawing it after that single stroke. "Never tell!" she whispered again, as she resumed her position. I wanted to beg for more, but knew that I was already taking a tremendous chance.