The steel posture collar chilled my neck and my belly raged hot as I kneeled on Andre Gregory’s living room floor.

He clasped the collar’s other two locks before circling around me, his eyes taking me in, my body bare except for the collar he’d just closed around my neck and locked.

I’d read about things like this. While such stories intrigued me, I’d never imagined myself in such a position; being bold enough to yield control to another human being, to subject myself to their dominance, their desires.
Andre turned his back to me again, his hand disappearing into the box, this time drawing from it four smaller metal rings whose designs matched that of the collar I wore.

“Hold out your hands,” he said, and I complied, reaching in front of me as he attached the cuffs to my wrist and locked them, one at a time.

“Stand,” he said, “and put your feet on the coffee table, in turn.

I did as I was told, rising from the floor and putting my left foot on the table long enough for him to cuff and lock my ankle, before doing the same with my right foot.

Twenty-four hours ago, Andre and I were at work together, toiling through another day of information among a half year’s worth of days filled with information, information and even more information.

Slightly more than twelve hours ago, he picked me up at Escape, bought me a drink and danced with me before bringing me to his home and fucking me thrice.

And now stood before him, naked, collared, cuffed, my pussy bare and my confidence and self-control having abandoned me, shifting on my feet as I awaited his next words or actions.

“Return to your knees, please,” Andre said calmly.

I sank back to the rug, my feet butt resting against my heels, my thighs in a “V” and my hands resting on them as my back and neck remained straight.

“Perfect,” he said, “Absolutely perfect.”

The emotions that flowed through me are difficult to describe. After six months without a social life, there was pride, even relief, in once again being the object of a man’s desire, his lust. With the yielding of control came uncertainty and nervousness. And the thought of walking into the office Monday left me horrified over the embarrassment I knew I’d feel.

Andre reached beneath my face, curling his forefinger beneath my chin and lifting, and I knew he wanted me to stand again. He led me to the sofa’s back and bent me over it, just as he had the night before, only this time he pulled my wrists behind me. I heard a couple of snaps and realized my cuffs had been clasped together, and then with two more snaps I found my ankles locked to each another.

I stood still in the silence, bent over the sofa’s back, my tits dangling from my frame with my wrists and ankles locked together, leaving me completely at Andre’s whims.

A squeal exploded from me when Andre spanked me forcefully. God it hurt.

“To whom do you belong, Gabi?” Andre said.

The question was just unexpected enough that my hesitation brought another brutal slap to my ass, and I whimpered as the pain brought tears to my eyes.

“I’m yours, Andre, yours,” I muttered.

“What did you call me?” he asked before spanking me again, this time hard enough to make me lurch forward over the sofa to the point that my feet came off the floor.

“Master!” I shrieked, hoping for the sake of my burning ass that I’d gotten it right.

Andre said nothing, and the next sensation I felt was of his fingertip smearing something cold and slick onto my rose, before sliding his finger through it and spreading the cool jelly inside me.

“Oh God, there’s no way I could …” I began to object, only to be cutoff in midsentence.

“You can and you will,” said Andre.

He removed his finger from my ass and pulled me open, teasing my back door with his thick, spongy head before pressing forward and filling my rump.

I thrashed against the couch, my colon searing as he inched further and further into me.

Somehow, I managed not to scream.

It took away my breath when Andre pulled back and pushed into me again, and I squealed, “Please! Please! Please!” as he sodomized my helpless body.

“You’ll thank me for this later,” he said, as he rocked behind me, my ass agonizing as his motion stretched it.
What was to happen later? How is having my boss’s fat black dick in my ass going to help me later?

He continued to take me in the most intimate way I could imagine and I tried not to hyperventilate or pass out from the pain.

Andre’s hands stayed on my hips as he thrust hard into me, and my breasts danced wildly as they hanged from my chest, bouncing out of control each time his pelvis slapped my buns.

The relief I felt when he pulled out of me was all too brief.

Andre unclasped my ankle’s cuffs and guided me around the sofa before releasing my arms from behind my back.