A Controlled Existence

Chapter One

Chapter One

A New Life

Kat stood up and looked down at Paul. He looked her up and down, admiring her naked form, as he always did. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“I am just going outside and may be some time,” she replied, trying overly hard to sound stoic and throwing her forearm up over her forehead melodramatically in imitation of tragedians in silent movies.

“OK, Oates. Just don’t freeze to death.”

“It’s probably sixty-eight degrees out there. Not much chance of hypothermia. I’m just hot and want to cool off. Maybe I’ll take a dip in the pool.”

“You are hot. Just bring your sexy ass back in here pronto. I’m going to need it very shortly, slave.”

“Yes, Master,” Kat replied and smiled. Turning to head for the patio door, her smile turned into a little giggle involuntarily. She had hoped that he would recognize her reference, and he did. He almost always caught her references, and she his—they were that much in sync despite the difference in their ages. The Oates to whom they were both referring was Captain Lawrence “Titus” Oates, a British cavalry officer who was with Robert Falcon Scott on his doomed expedition to the South Pole. According to Scott’s diary, suffering from scurvy and frostbitten feet, Oates feared he was holding his comrades back. Determined to sacrifice himself that they might live, he uttered the line Kat quoted and walked out into a blizzard without even bothering to put on his boots. It did no good. In the end, all those with Scott perished. It was, as she indicated, a fate she felt sure she would not share and a rather morbid invocation for such a festive occasion.

Kat stepped gingerly amid entwined naked limbs as she made her way outside. The cool night air felt good against her skin. In the bright moonlight, she saw lovers canoodling and interlocking everywhere. She spotted Meg and Courtney in the pool. She made her way to the pool’s edge and jumped in. Approaching the two women, she threw her arms around them and kissed them both deeply.

Perhaps, at this point, one should take a moment for explanation. Samuel Clemens began The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn with Huck narrating, “You don’t know about me without you have read a book by the name of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer; but that ain’t no matter. That book was made by Mr. Mark Twain, and he told the truth, mainly. There were things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth.”

Kat’s name is Katrina Van Tuyl, and you wouldn’t know her unless you read the book The Sessions. That book told the story of how she went from bored New York socialite, with a bachelor’s degree in English and art history, to the collared s*x slave of a wealthy and mysterious Dom. That would be Paul Ulbrecht. He was a controversial s*x therapist that her best friend and college roommate Meg had referred Kat to. Now he was the master of them both. The Sessions told the story of Kat’s defilement and inexorable--and very willing—descent into a live-in 24/7 b**m Master/slave relationship.

In The Story of O, Sir Stephen debases and trains O, only to abandon her at the end. When Master asked Kat to leave her life in New York City and move in with him, she didn’t feel pressured. She felt elated and relieved. She thought that she had somehow beaten the odds. Sir Stephen had not abandoned his O. Instead he had embraced her and, at her urging, had given her two beautiful slave sisters, Meg and Courtney.

As Kat hugged her sisters in the swimming pool, thoughts of all that had happened in the last year flooded into her mind. She was happy, but beyond that she was content. They were at one of their Master’s periodic play parties. The three sisters had been the servers at the event, which began as a fairly typical affluent, suburban cocktail party—with three nude women as the wait staff. Partygoers were allowed to touch, fondle, lick, and kiss them at will but not to penetrate or violate them in any way.

The cocktail party climaxed with a s*x show staged for the guests by Paul. That night, he took Courtney from behind, while she ate Meg’s p***y. Kat sat on Meg’s face, being pleasured by her as she ran her hands over Courtney’s back and reached underneath her to play with her breasts. Though Courtney was in exactly the same circumstance, being both pleasured and bestowing pleasure, in this foursome, Kat always thought the slave lying on her back on the floor was actually the real focal point, receiving from one sister and giving to the other. In this interpretation, their Master’s actions were almost irrelevant. But at the deepest level of her being Kat knew that was not true. Not only was Paul giving Courtney the greatest pleasure and privilege of his massive c**k, but he had orchestrated the entire affair. It was his doing. It was all his doing. He had choreographed it, and he had always maintained that foursomes—rather than threesomes—were the best ménages because they opened up so many more possibilities.

At the conclusion of the live show, the play parties always erupted immediately into a full-blown orgy, as if, upon some sudden signal like the blowing of a hunting horn, the Feast of Fools had just been declared open and the Precentor Stultorum, the Lord of Misrule, were instantly in charge.

Kat reluctantly parted from Meg and Courtney. “Master told me not to tarry here outside but to return my ass to him,” she told them.

“Lucky you,” Meg said breathily before returning to kissing Courtney.

Kat climbed out of the pool and grabbed a towel, but then she put it down. She would let the breeze and the dry air kiss the beads of water from her body. She strode confidently to the house, entered, and picked her way through the minefield of naked flesh to her Master. As she made her way, memories flooded back to her.

The week between last Christmas and New Year, Paul took Kat to Star Fall, the clothing-optional resort in the Caribbean that he owned, which covertly served as a b**m destination. There she was introduced to Claire and Tom, her and Meg’s counterparts on that island paradise, and they both enjoyed s*x with them. While they were there, Paul asked Kat to commit to him for a total power exchange, lifestyle relationship and move in with him in Connecticut. Kat pressed the advantage his proposition gave her to get him to agree to collar Courtney and have her and Meg, whom he had already collared, move in, as well.

The four of them settled into quasi-conjugal bliss, like a plural marriage. Just as Paul had helped Kat embrace her omnisexuality, they all embraced their polyamorous relationship.

Kat eventually made her way back to the spot where she left Paul. He smiled up at her. “You’re just in time, slave. I was about to go out looking for you. If I had had to do that, it would not have gone well for you. I’d have had to punish you.”

“I know, Master,” Kat replied. “I’m sorry I took so long. I just took a swim with Courtney and Meg.”

“After we say goodbye to our guests, I’ll give you what you crave, slave.”

“Thank you, Master,” she said, grinning broadly. “It looks like the guests are beginning to leave right now!”

Paul, Kat, Meg, and Courtney, stood at the front door to say goodbye to each of the guests. Most of them took the opportunity for one last tweak or grope of the slaves. Kat, especially, was thrilled that the last guests from the play party were gone.

After Kat, Meg, and Courtney moved in with Paul, he devised a rotation system. Each night, one of them would share his bed, having the privileges of whatever their Master desired that night and of the first f**k of the morning. (Paul loved morning sex.) The two who were not in the rotation slept together and were permitted—no, encouraged—to have s*x with each other. Courtney had moaned softly the first time Kat saw her come, when she and Kat did cam2cam when Kat was recruiting another bi female to participate in her and Meg’s stage-two training. With her Master, however, she proved a screamer. Meg and Kat would lie awake in bed and giggle like schoolgirls at her vocalizations, trying to imagine what he was doing to her at that exact moment. Bedroom doors were never closed at night. There was no need.

That night was Kat’s night. She was up in the rotation. “Thank goodness!” she thought, uncertain if she could have gone without him. As she and Paul walked into his bedroom, he stopped her and kissed her firmly. She had removed her wrist and ankle cuffs and waist cincher after the s*x show and before going into the pool. Now she wore nothing but his collar. It was the way that she loved to be.

Kat got up on the California king bed and crawled to the middle, setting herself up on her hands and knees. She looked over her shoulder and saw that he was fully erect, his nine-and-a-half inch staff pointing towards the ceiling. “No, slave, not tonight,” he said. Kat pouted.

“I thought he had told me that I’d get what I craved! I need to be f****d in the ass,” she thought, though she did not dare say anything or risk punishment. Kat was one of those rare women for whom anal was the preferred way of intercourse.

“Tonight I want to have your ass the way I had it that first time. Lie on your back.”

Kat’s frown turned into a big grin. She flopped on the bed and rolled over on her back. As Paul approached her, she stretched her legs up in the air and raised her ass. He eased his c**k into her dark sheath, and she wrapped her legs around his neck. Her hand dropped to her crotch, and she began to massage her c**t. She kept her eyes open, and her Master kept his locked on hers while he stroked in and out of her anus forcefully. Her swollen c**t was ready to burst. “Please, Master, may I come for you?” she begged.

He did not answer directly, as he usually did. Instead, he said, “You’re a horny b***h, aren’t you, slave?”

“Yes, Master, I’m your horny slave b***h,” she gasped desperately.

“Then come for me, my beautiful slave b***h!” he growled.

She exploded. A few strokes later, Paul followed suit, shooting his warm c*m deep inside her anus. “Thank you, Master,” she exhaled.

Paul pulled out and ordered Kat to clean him off with her mouth. She turned and engulfed his still semi-rigid c**k. Her Master hated to have a single drop of his semen not be either injected into an appropriate hole or to be eaten. He considered spunk to be sacred. Initially, Kat had found that whole “semen-is-sacred” thing vaguely creepy, but now that she had been worshipping his “Master-full” c**k so long, it seemed perfectly natural.

As she tongued his c**k dry, Paul looked down at her and said, “Very good, slave. I’m afraid that’s all you get tonight.”

“It was more than enough, Master! You always are,” Kat cooed. She got up and turned the overhead bedroom light off. Shuffling back, she slipped into bed and scrambled under the covers, snuggling up next to her Master. He spooned her all night with his wonderful member comfortably nestled between her ass cheeks. And the next morning they began it all over again.