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Hell’s Kitchen

Forward — Thank you to all who have kept me in strict bondage in Second Life, increasing my timers and teasing me about my incarceration. Your inspiration has led to this story. I hope you enjoy the fruits of your labor.

I wandered the streets of Hell’s Kitchen with nowhere to go. All I needed was one great stroke of luck, and I would be able to make everything right. I’d gambled in casinos, bookies, and any other game I could get in on. My numbers and teams never came in, so I got deeper and deeper in the hole, out of friends to go to, and my family was ready to disown me. One loan shark was threatening me if I didn’t pay up by midnight. There were so many shootings and people disappearing around here that were ignored. I felt my days were numbered; it was a matter of time until my body would be yet another Jane Doe.

I pleaded with my other loan shark to extend his terms or anything. He handed me a cell phone and told me to “stay outside until the phone rings”. As 9 PM turned to 10, I started aimlessly wandering the streets, staying away from the Projects where I lived. I avoided the grimy alleys and the abandoned buildings lest I be raped. The midnight deadline passed. I kept checking the phone. No calls.

By 2 AM, I found myself sitting on the stoop of the store where I bought so many losing lotto tickets. It was the home to so many hopes that never panned out. Of course, the corner mart closed hours ago. A luxury black sedan pulled up, and the rear window rolled down. I stared in disbelief for a moment. Cars like that never stop around here. Everyone local that can afford a car is lucky when it runs. I stood and walked over.

There was a guy in his upper 40s sitting in the backseat. His stylish suit and immaculate hair broadcast that he not only had money, but he had power. I realized that as I was checking out his car, he was sizing me up. He paused and simply said, “So you need money.”

My jaw dropped. A guy with this power is willing to loan me money! I gushed, “Oh yes! Please! I’m desperate! I’ll do anything! I’ll be good for it! I’ll…”

He held up a finger, cutting me off by barking “Silence!”

I shut up and waited for him to continue. He waited for a few awkward moments, perhaps to see if I kept silent. Finally, he commanded, “Get on your hands and knees and wiggle your Ass.”

When someone like that tells me to do something, I do it! I promptly got down on my hands and knees right on the sidewalk and wiggled my butt as enticingly as I could. I felt humiliated out there in the open, shaking my Ass for some stranger, but I was desperate! I had no idea if anyone else was looking out their windows. I forced a grin and looked up at him. His smile in return made me realize that in a twisted way, it excited me to be forced to do this. I was actually turned on by him making me humiliate myself on the sidewalk!

He barked out “Throw your skirt and top in the trash.” He waved his hand toward a garbage can down the block. I had no idea what was coming, but I hurriedly strode to the trash. I flipped my top over my head, unceremoniously tossing it in. I slid my thumbs into my waistband, and quickly pulled the skirt to the floor. I stepped out of it, dropped it in the trash, and quickly scampered back to the car in just my pink bra and panties, and cheap black pumps. I felt so exposed on the street corner in just my underwear!

The man seemed amused at my compliance. “Get in.” I was being invited into such a nice car?? When the trunk popped open, I realized what he meant. I humbly climbed in the trunk, and the lid closed over me.

The trunk was very spacious and impeccably clean. We drove on, my only friend being the dim glow of the emergency pull handle.

I braced myself against the sides of the trunk through the many starts, stops, and turns. Eventually, the car parked. I had no idea where we were. After a minute or two, the trunk opened. The stylish man stood looking at me, his burly uniformed driver was a step behind. We were in a parking garage, right near the entrance to the building. The man said, “Leave your purse in the trunk.” I climbed out, and the lid closed. He idly waved to another garbage can “The rest of your clothing goes in there.”

I had no idea where I was, but his control was enticing me more and more. I walked to the trashcan, unhooked my bra, letting my girls dangle freely, stepped out of my panties throwing them in the can with my worn pumps. Within a minute, I was utterly naked as I padded back to the two appreciative men. I noticed that the imposing chauffeur was holding a bright red box with white lettering on it.

As I returned, the man in the suit took the box and handed it to me. “Put this on.” I looked at the box. It had a picture of a dog running through some fields and was emblazoned with “Control Training Collar” in bold white letters. I caught bits like “Track your dog through GPS!” as I opened the box. A bright yellow nylon collar was inside with an integral box on it. The box had an empty slot that used to hold the remote. I wrapped the collar around my neck. There was a small lock, but no key. I snapped the lock shut, falling deeper under his control. I was all the more at his mercy and yet felt good about it.

The driver commented, “She *is* compliant, Master.” I latched onto that title; it is what he should be called. The driver held the door open for his employer. The door led into a small entryway with an elevator door. The driver hit the button, and the door opened immediately.

It struck me how clean this place was. There was no graffiti and the elevator worked. The elevator in the projects hadn’t worked in months. I had to walk up five stories to get to my shared hovel.

The doors opened to a lavish living room larger than my apartment. The plush, thick white carpet and white leather furniture seemed opulent. The windows beyond looked over the city skyline. I couldn’t believe I was actually here!

An impressive kitchen was to the left, and to the right was a solid door and an alcove. The alcove held a single mattress with wide straps running across it. It also held a toilet, sink, and Shower stall with a glass door. One entire wall was a mirror, probably one-way, such that others could look in. I realized the alcove didn’t have any space for storing clothing. It also didn’t have a door; anyone sleeping or showering would be freely visible to anyone in the living room. The helplessness and blatant exposure held my gaze.

Master and his bodyguard exited the elevator, and I meekly followed behind. Master picked up some leather items from an end table. Putting a hand on my shoulder, he steered me to turn around. I felt him wrap a supple leather cuff around one wrist, the click sound telling me it was probably locked in place. Master followed it up by securing the other wrist in place with a matching cuff. A light tug let me know that my wrists were connected behind my back with under a foot of cable. It got me kind of nervous being more helpless before two men, but also more excited. I enjoyed the control and the way that the cuffs kept my shoulders back.

Master smiled as he surveyed his prize. He looked me in the eye, smirked, then commanded “Bring me a margarita!”

I stopped as my mind raced. Why would he cuff my hands and then make me use them? I have no idea where anything is or any good margarita recipes! But I was going to do my damnedest to make the best drink I possibly could.

I nervously padded into the kitchen, very conscious I was wearing only cuffs and a dog collar. I saw a small tablet on the counter. I awkwardly turned it on and saw one icon — recipes. I craned my neck to look over my shoulder to type behind my back “margarita”. I got one hit. Excellent! I needed to find Tequila, lime juice, orange liqueur, kosher salt, and a lime slice.

It was like a scavenger hunt as I searched the kitchen. I had to turn my back to doors to open them, get down on my knees to reach low items like the orange liqueur, stretch to reach items just at chest level like the kosher salt. One by one, I found everything! I was keenly aware of the cuffs with every movement and I was turned on by it. His casual control was enticing!

Master and his bodyguard sat and watched my struggles like an appreciative audience, making light conversation about my progress and technique. It was a turn-on to be viewed this way! I was surprised that I had access to knives. Clearly Master had nothing to fear from a naked and bound slave. I carefully mixed the drink, shook it thoroughly, poured it into the glass, and added the salt rim, just like the directions said.

I picked up the drink and carefully held it behind my back, willing it to stay level. I walked to Master, encouraged by his appreciative smile. I presented the cocktail with a smile, part enjoyment, part triumph “Your Margarita Master. I still need to clean up Master.”

As I returned to clean up, I realized that calling him “Master” just flowed out of my mouth. I didn’t even know who he was! Nobody knows where I am, or who I am with. If I disappeared, the only people looking for me would be doing so for vengeance. I was truly at Master’s mercy. He had the power and prestige to literally do anything he wanted to me without consequence. Master sipped his margarita as he watched me struggle to put things away and wipe everything off.

I cleaned up, with my hands still behind my back, and returned to Master, kneeling at his side. “This is a really nice place you have Master.”

Master picked up a remote control and pointed it at me, clicking a button, happily calling out “Silence!”

I didn’t know what that was about, you can’t mute someone like a TV set. Then I spotted a symbol on the remote that matched one from the dog collar box. I don’t know what he did, and realized I didn’t want to find out. I stayed quiet. His control over me was quite erotic. I felt turned on and drawn to him all the more.

Master looked at me a moment. He smiled as he realized I shut up, turned to his bodyguard, and commented “She seems more compliant than the last bitch. Nice tits, tight Ass, and a cute smile.

I’m not so naïve to think people didn’t say things like that behind my back, but I was right there! He was so casually brazen! I mused that what he said was complimentary though. I should use it to my advantage, and I flashed a pleasant smile.

Master said “Yeah, I’ll keep her for now. It’s getting late, I’ll put her to bed.” He stood up, and I followed him to the strappy bed. He freed my hands, and with a flippant hand wave, bade me to “lie down”.

I laid on top of the two wide straps. They were made of a thick cotton canvas material. One was at my waist, the other at my shins. Master fastened a wide strap snugly around my waist, securely fastening it to the middle of the bed. He picked up my left hand and wrapped a cuff around it. As he set it down on the edge of the bed, I heard a “click”.

As Master busied himself securing my right wrist, I subtly pulled on the left one. The thick cotton strap was comfortable, yet firm. It wasn’t tight, but I was unable to squirm out. I only had an inch, maybe two of play with them, most of that from the softness of the mattress. I was wonderfully secured in place.

Once my wrists were secure, Master physically pulled my legs apart. Not only did I not resist, but I was also a quite willing participant by this point. In but a minute, they too were strapped in place, spread about shoulder-width apart. I couldn’t close my legs, nor pull my feet up.

He paused as he looked down at me. He smiled and said “Goodnight.”

I responded “Goo…” I shrieked as the collar around my neck zapped me! My eyes went wide. I would be shocked if I spoke a single word!

Master glared down at me, pointedly saying “Silence!”

I meekly nodded my understanding as he turned out the lights and strode from my view.

I was awake for much of the night. I was used to rolling over from time to time. I was strapped down to the bed on my back. I tugged, squirmed, and writhed. I tried rolling over a zillion times, but it was all for naught. The straps were comfortable, yet secure. I was utterly unable to move out of the position that he imposed on me. My helplessness was frustrating and erotic. I yearned to lay on my side and get comfortable, yet was turned on that I was locked in place!

As I went in and out of slumber, I replayed the previous evening over and over in my head. I had spent years gambling. Each time seeking ever-increasing enormous wins to even the score and make things right. In a way, this was my largest and final wager. I was risking myself. I drifted back out in fitful sleep.

I heard Master call out “Good morning!” I opened my eyes and saw he was already finely dressed in another impeccable suit.

I opened up my mouth to mumble a sleepy response. Thankfully, the feel of the nylon dog collar on my neck reminded me of what happened the last time I spoke. I closed my mouth without a word being crossing my lips. I was clearly expected to be seen and not heard. I meekly wiggled a few fingers in greeting.

Master knelt over me, and I heard a buzzing sound. Wonderful vibrations sprang from my crotch! Oh yes! This is exactly what I craved! I instinctively tried hugging him, but my arms were strapped in place. This aroused me all the more. My legs tried to move, and the cuffs echoed the thrill right back. Master was clearly enjoying my excitement, smiling as he wiggled the delightful toy around all my fun bits. I panted and helplessly writhed in my bonds, feeling their grip like a lover’s hug. My breathing got ragged as my body responded faster than ever. My juices made the vibrator feel even better! I shamelessly pressed my Pussy into the buzzing toy as I felt the monstrous Orgasm building inside of me. I arched my back, ready to explode, and the vibrator withdrew.

I looked at Master, whimpering and pleading with my eyes. He smiled and delicately slid his finger over my soaking twat. My twat was pulsing, just on the cusp of the release, I craved like never before. Master calmly asked, “Would you like an Orgasm?”

I panted and frantically nodded my head up and down. I needed an Orgasm like never before!

Master said “Good. Bitches are best when they are wet and desperate.”

Damn it! I needed an Orgasm! That bastard was toying with me! I pleaded with my eyes and started humping the air. Master clearly enjoyed the wanton display of lust. I realized this would encourage him to deny me all the more as he enjoyed the fruits of his labor. Master caressed my body for a few minutes, musing “You are a lusty bitch, aren’t you?”

I desperately nodded. My Orgasm slowly drifted away, but the burning desire remained.

Master released me from my bed. I moved for the first time in hours, working the ache from my muscles. I smiled as Master wrapped the cuffs from last night around my wrists, locking them firmly. He attached them together in front of me before biding me to “Bring me breakfast. Cantaloupe and berries.”

I walked and stretched, working the kinks out as I padded, naked and bound to the kitchen. Master moved to the living room to enjoy the show, between texting on his phone. I realized I didn’t want to know what he was saying. Would it be something innocuous like comments on my body or a funny meme, or would it be about drug shipments or ordering a hit? The less I knew, the better off for everyone.

I sliced up the cantaloupe, salivating at the juicy treat. I sprinkled a decadent heap of blueberries throughout the fine bowl. I wanted to gobble it all down, yet I didn’t indulge in a single bite. I brought the bowl to Master, knelt down before him, then presented his breakfast with my head bowed.

Master took the bowl and started eating. I didn’t know what else to do, so I silently continued kneeling before him. In a way, I was ready and waiting for my next order. I watched Master idly eating from the fine bowl and admired the intricate pattern glazed into it. It was so much better than the mismatched misfits that I was used to.

After a few minutes, Master held out a blueberry toward my mouth. I craned up to suck it in, planting a kiss on his fingers in gratitude. I sucked and savored the blueberry; I didn’t know if it would be my entire breakfast. As the minutes ticked by, Master hand-fed occasional pieces of the luscious cantaloupe as well.

When Master had consumed what he desired, Master set the bowl down on the floor. Some cantaloupe and blueberries remained at the bottom! I looked between the bowl and him, pleading with my eyes. He idly texted a few messages on his phone before slipping it into his pocket. Master looked down at me, I think he was pleasantly amused to coerce me into waiting. Master finally allowed, “You may eat what remains, but don’t use your hands.”

It looked and smelled so delicious! I eagerly ate from the bowl on the floor like a dog, yet savoring every morsel. My nose got smeared in cantaloupe juice, but I didn’t care. I was startled when I heard a loud “ding!” I paused until I realized the noise was just the shock portion of my collar ringing out as it hit the bowl edge. The bowl shifted a bit from my eating, so I followed the bowl across the floor.

After a few more nibbles, it was increasingly laborious to swallow in that position; my neck simply didn’t have the canine shape. I laid on my stomach, propped up on my elbows, and continued. My boobs dangled just before the bowl. As it shifted again from my struggles, I crossed my arms behind the bowl to prevent the movement. The bowl was now trapped in place. I took my time, savoring every bit of Master’s juicy table scraps.

When I was done, I looked up. Master was gazing down at me, clearly amused. He went back to texting, so I curled up at his feet and started to nap.

I woke as Master’s footsteps stopped near my head. I opened my mouth to speak but remembered the collar. My mouth closed before a word was uttered. Master said, “We’d best get you moving bitch.” He unlocked my cuffs, moved my wrists behind my back, and relocked them. It was exciting that he was keeping me bound and controlled so much. I was undoubtedly getting into my utter helplessness! I felt myself slipping into a new headspace, becoming all the more focused on him and only him!

Master draped some pantihose over a chair and brought out a pair of red-soled heels. I picked up the flesh-toned garment. It felt so silky in my hands! The suspender tights felt exquisite, not the cheap plastic I was used to struggling into. I luxuriously slipped my legs into the gossamer fabric, enjoying the vibrant shine that it brought to my calves, then my thighs. The pantihose mimicked stockings with a garter belt; they ended at my upper thigh, with a broad strip in front and back of each leg that connected them to the waistband.

I picked up the heels and gasped. These were genuine Christian Louboutin red sole pumps! Real leather, not the cheap plastic knock-offs! I slid my feet into the heels and buckled the strap around my ankle. I never dreamed I would be wearing real Christian Louboutin heels! I was on cloud nine!

I ran my hand up my stockinged leg, caressing the gossamer fabric. My hands highlighted the way the light gleamed off of them. I stood and sauntered around. I felt absolutely decadent!

Master guided my wrists behind my back, locking them together. I felt him run a strap from my wrists and around my waist, firmly lashing them in place. Only then did I hear the click of the lock shutting. I tugged lightly and was secretly thrilled my arms were securely fastened. I wriggled a bit, enjoying the firm grasp of the cuffs.

Master ran a thin leather strap from my cuffs and between my legs. He deftly tucked the strip under my waist belt and pulled it taut. He tugged on the strap, and I felt it pulling right on my tender Pussy. I peered down and saw the thin leather strip had burrowed right between my folds. My eyes went wide. I became keenly aware of that leash; he compelled my complete and undivided attention. Master called out “C’mere Lusty Bitch!” The name startled me. In a perverse way, I loved that he adopted a name for me; I had no choice. I was secretly thrilled I was named; it was not only erotic, but it meant he was likely to keep me.

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