The Hidden Slave


(Many thanks to CambriaRose for her editing this story for me, it sure reads better now she worked her magic on it.)

Her parents called me cold. Not to my face of course, I heard them in one of those moments I wasn’t supposed to. In a not so unguarded moment her mother screamed at me that I was a monster for taking there daughter away from them, her husband managed to calm her and move her away from me before apologizing. His eyes gave him away, he agreed all to well with his wife’s opinion of me. But to do this now and on the day of Angie’s funeral was simply not acceptable.

It was my final promise to Angie that I would bring her home to be buried, the only reason she ever left Boston was to live with me. When Leukemia stole her from me I brought her back to her final resting place and as I watched her coffin slowly being placed in the family plot I said my final goodbye to her under my breath. Her Mother was a wreck, her Dad had trouble holding his wife up and at one stage I actually thought she was going to fall in and follow her daughter.

I stayed to the very end, her folks couldn’t and although the invitation to join them at the family gathering afterwards was made, her parents and I knew that it was only meant as a gesture and they would rather I didn’t turn up at all. I could see it in her Mother’s hatred of me in her eyes, I had taken a child that was loved and turned her into something she wasn’t and when I had finished using her I brought the body back. It just goes to show just how much they actually knew and understood Angie and I, and our relationship.

Angie knew it was also the reason I never came to visit them with her. She came back for birthdays, anniversaries and I allowed her to stay a week at a time. We never talked about it on her return and our lives continued the way we wanted it, not her folks.

It’s said that when you stop looking for that specific something, that is usually when you will find it. That’s how I met Angie, she was working in the family run flower shop and I had gone in for a flower for my lapel before going on to meet a client. As I held the flower in my hand, there was a crash and I turned to see Angie stood in the middle of the shop staring at me as though she had seen a ghost. Her father apologies but I hardly heard him. We exchanged pleasantries and (Angie admitted to this much later in our relationship) as I pulled some bills out of my wallet to pay for my flower one of my business cards came with it.

Angie palmed it and she called me later that evening. The rest as they say is our history, away from her family she was more forward than I expected, and when I pointed this out to her she simply said she didn’t have time to be anything else. She knew what she wanted, and didn’t want me to get away. It was on our second date I sat her down and told her what I was and my lifestyle.

She simply looked at me and said. “I know, I felt it the moment I saw you at the shop.”

There was no point explaining anything else after that. Angie’s submissive side only came out when she was with me or my closest circle of friends, her Italian heritage took over at any other time and for five wonderful years I had it all. Then that fateful day I came home from work and she said those words that change lives, ‘We need to talk’.

The rain had only just started when I got on the plane from Boston. I had done what I had set out to do and left no real casualties. As much as I wanted to wipe the slate clean with her family I saw no point, neither did Angie when she sat me down to have that conversation. It was my last gift to the love of my life, I kept my mouth shut and left them to their grief, it was time to go home and deal with mine.


Mark and his slave had been close friends of Angie and I all through our relationship, we had a standing date to go down to his place for a week at a time and enjoy each others company and slaves. Even when I returned from Boston Mark kept in touch and for the next year still tried to talk me into coming down for the week. He understood things were still too raw and accepted a rain check. He wasn’t so forgiving the second year of asking and since I didn’t have much else to do I joined him and his slave.

It was while I was there he told me about a place that had opened eighteen months before and they had become members of, it sounded like an interesting evening out so Mark phoned ahead and booked me in as a guest and all three of us went. I was standing by one of the events talking to Mark when he looked over my shoulder a fraction of a second before someone tapped me on it. Mark’s face went pale and I turned to see two huge men standing watching me.

One almost a mirror image of the other, both bald with eyes that showed no emotion in them and neither looked like they had a neck. These two could handle themselves and the muscle they carried in suits that were clearly made to measure seemed to attest to that fact.

“Could you come with Kumköy escort us, please.”

It was patently obvious that it wasn’t even remotely a request and since curiosity got the better of me I did just that. We wound our way through corridors and into the business end of the dungeon complex stopping at a door. One of the bruisers looked at me once more before knocking. Moments later he opened the door and we all entered. The six screens against the wall showed almost every part of the complex that the public had access to. Although five of the screens would flicker and change to a different part of the complex every ten seconds, only one screen stayed locked onto a woman knelt in the middle of a room. It took me a moment to realize that the seat turned away from us actually had someone sitting in it.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

The chair moved around and the man sitting in it faced me. For such a long time all he seemed to do was watch me. I simply stared back, we both seemed to be evaluating each other. My own reasons were one of self preservation, I was still confused as to why I was here and with these two gentlemen behind me. I was asked to come here for a reason I’m sure the true meaning of which would finally become clear now.

“Camera six. She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

I looked beyond him towards the screens behind him, it still took me a moment to find camera six and then take in the picture of a naked woman in a mask kneeling in the middle of a room. Her hands were palms up and even in her mask she seemed to be looking at a spot some two feet in front of her. There was little else in detail about the woman; the room was plainly a private cell, the tools of the trade to any master or mistress using it hanging on the wall behind the kneeling slave.

“Forgive me for my rudeness, my name is Michael Cartwright. I own this establishment. Do you know the woman on screen six?”

My attention once again went back to this man that sat in the chair, I shrugged my shoulders. He seemed to take my silence personally, I could feel his two friends take a step closer to me. Michael finally stood from his seat; I didn’t feel threatened by him. His two friends were a different topic. The grey hair on both sides of his head and the lean features made him look more like a school teacher than an owner of this type of establishment.

It was his piercing blue eyes that set him apart from any school teacher I knew, this man has seen so much in his life and seemed to resign himself to the fact that he couldn’t change any of it. It was plain to see that he was assessing me just as much as I was him, for a moment he smiled, came around his desk and sat on the corner of it, pointing to a chair in front of his desk as he did so.

“I’m sorry, where are my manners, please sit, we have a few things to discuss.”

I did so, more out of curiosity than wondering if I would be forced to at some point, it was plain to see this woman on the screen was the centre piece to this conversation. It was also obvious that whatever we said to each other from now on was going to be like playing chess, Mr. Cartwright wanted something from me and I hadn’t got a clue what he was fishing for.

“You came as a guest of Mr. Williams and his slave, Mr. Williams is a regular here, along with his slave. I would say they are valued members of this club, and suddenly you turn up as a guest. Please don’t get me wrong Mr. Williams’ membership entitles him to bring a guest from time to time, yet he never has and suddenly you turn up and I’m faced with a dilemma.”

“If you wish me to leave Mr. Cartwright then all you have to do is ask. I have done nothing or said anything to anyone to upset them. Yes I came as a guest of Mr. Williams, we have known each other for some years and I’m sure if you ask him he will vouch for me.”

My host smiled once again before saying, “We already talked to Mr. Williams and he does indeed vouch for you.”

We both seemed to be at an impasse, since I didn’t know what this man wanted and for some reason he clearly wasn’t happy with me being here. I heard the door open behind me, seconds later it closed again. A woman in her mid-fifties wearing a business suit walked in and sat on the couch against the wall. Mr. Cartwright looked at the woman and she nodded once to him, his mannerism seemed to change slightly, his features seemed to tighten. He was clearly not happy with the reason this woman nodded at him.

With what seemed a resigned look on his face he nodded back at the woman, he looked over my shoulder and asked his two friends to leave. He waited until the door closed once again before he looked down at the desk, pulled a file towards himself and rested his hand on it.

“The woman you see one screen six I consider to be a close personal friend of mine. She came to me an hour ago and asked this of me. At first I flatly refused, however she has an ability of getting her own way when she is stone headed Kumköy escort bayan enough.”

For a moment he looked once again at the woman on her knees in the middle of the cell.

“Strange when you think she now places so much trust in you and she now exhibits such a submissive pose, and all for you my friend. However I run a business and I made sure my own ass is covered as well as hers.”

He pulled the flap of the folder to one side and pulled out a sheet of paper, placing on the desk in front of me.

“I not only intend to protect myself but her as well, although she doesn’t know it.”

Once again he pointed to the sheet of paper in front of me, I was still fascinated with his statement. I simply didn’t know what to make of any of this.

“This document has already been signed by the woman you see on that screen although it has been obscured for her own protection. In it she has agreed you can do anything to her, except make her bleed.”

I went cold, images of Angie flashed before my eyes and I had to shake my head to clear them.

“No, I won’t do this, it’s insane. I don’t even know this woman and she is willing to place that amount of trust in me. No, forget it.”

He smiled, he actually smiled and relaxed.

The woman slid forward to the edge of the couch before saying. “She wants this, she has never shown any inclination for this to anyone but the second she saw you on the entrance screen camera she wanted it.”

Michael Cartwright shouted at the woman to shut up. As confused as I was about all this, I couldn’t help but be just a little intrigued and the thought that I may be tweaking Michael Cartwright while I was, simply added to my humor. For a moment I looked towards the woman, she was as hard to read as he was.

“What other rules are there in this that I have yet to discover?”

Both sat and said nothing. It was time to push for some answers to this intriguing little drama that was unfolding in Michael Cartwright’s office. I leaned across to his desk, picked up his pen and signed alongside the name that was covered. The air seemed to leave Michael for a moment; clearly the woman on the screen meant something to him. Once again he looked towards the woman on the couch and he seemed to sigh just before he got up off the desk and left. The woman sat for a few more minutes on the couch before she got up and walked over to me offering her hand.

“My name is Margo. The terms are simple and non-negotiable, the woman on the screen is yours for as long as you find a use for her, we will remain open until you have finished and left these premises. There are in fact three rules, you can talk to her, command her whatever you wish she will do, but she will not talk so please don’t waste your time expecting her to.”

All this was still heading towards weird at an incredible rate and it still left me wondering what I had just signed up to do, and did I actually do it just to play with Michael’s head.

“The second rule is her mask. You will see once you leave here that one of our people will be outside her cell at all times. Should you try in any way to remove the mask he will come in and stop you. I’ve also been told that he doesn’t have to be gentle in any way when he stops you, so I would leave the mask alone if I was you.”

I sat and thought about what had been said so far, Margo seemed to be happy to let me think this through, even though I was still unsure of her angle in this. So I had to find out.

“Why me? I don’t know anyone in this town other than the two people I came with. No slave willingly gives this much of themselves to anyone they have not even met.”

Margo watched me for a moment, her features seem to say more than she herself was willing to tell me. This woman was torn and a thought struck me which placed a different perspective on my dealings with Margo, she herself was a Mistress.

“The third rule is once you leave this room I lock that door and turn off the recording equipment to that cell. It will be down to me to watch and listen to everything and anything you do to her, and I can’t do a damn thing about it unless you break rule one or two.”

I was beginning to understand some of this. I suspected the woman on that screen knew nothing about these rules. Plus I needed to find out if my suspicions were true, although it would make little difference about anything, it was always good to know and understand the people putting me in this situation.

“What’s your angle in this Margo?”

She seemed to wince, maybe I touched on a truth finally. She looked once again at the woman on screen six.

Without even looking at me Margo said. “I’ve known that woman for close to two years now. She sees you come into this place and she does this and I don’t know why. She simply won’t tell anyone and she has used up a great deal of favors from us all to make this happen. I don’t know you, I don’t know your medical history, your mental stability, Escort Kumköy I know nothing and that worries me greatly.”

“So who inserted the rule of not making her bleed into this contract?”

Me asking her that seemingly reminded her that the now signed contract was still on the desk. Margo folded it, placed it into an envelope and walking around the desk slid it into one of the drawers.

“Michael and I insisted on it or we simply wouldn’t allow this to happen. She was reluctant at first, to her it had to be all or nothing but when she noticed we would not budge on that one rule she had to agree to its insertion.”

Margo’s hand traveled along the underside of the desk, she smiled when she seemed to find what she was looking for before she walked back around the desk and sat on the corner that Michael had not long vacated.

“I believe I know what you are if not who you really are, your eyes give you away. They say it takes one to know one, this is her choice and no amount of any of us asking her to change her mind has done us any good. We look after our own in this establishment and this will be the first time I will have to witness one of us in this situation. I’m not looking forward to it but I will be professional and as long as you remember all three rules I can’t kick you out of here.”

Something crossed her eyes and in the low light of the office if was difficult to see. My suspicions about Margo had just been confirmed. To her this conversation was now over, she would tell me no more. The mistress within Margo had now taken over, the sound of the door opening and one of the security team came in, placed his hand on my shoulder. I followed him still not sure why.


Even as he drew back the bolt to the cell and held it open for me I couldn’t understand not only why I was here but actually doing this. Angie’s death hit me hard, the line of master and slave blurred totally to the point of extinction towards the end. I loved her and cared for her until her last breath, it was Angie that begged me not to allow her family to see her die. To her those few hours left to her were ours and she wanted them kept that way.

Once I returned home I simply closed up the play room. Went back to work and severed all contact with her family. Some would call it, ‘closing the gate after the horse had bolted’. To them I was dead the day of the funeral. Work took on my life although my inner circle of friends actually told me that work took over my life. To me I had the best slave and wife in the world, how could anyone compete for that title and be like Angie? So I didn’t even go looking. I still kept in touch with people Angie and I knew and even got invited to these sorts of parties from time to time.

It’s only this evening that my life seemed to hit a sudden hurdle. Just who the hell is this slave that would offer so much to someone she doesn’t know and why me? The sound of the cell door clicking shut brought me back to reality. Her head never left the floor, she shuddered took a deep breath and brought her body back under control again.

I looked once around the cell before casually saying. “It’s too bright in here.”

Slave stood and walked to one corner of the room, pushed at a panel in the wall and it popped open revealing loads of dials. She adjusted one and the brightness of the room reduced to a more calming and acceptable level, placing the panel back. Slave returned to her place in the middle of the room, just as she was about to kneel again I stopped her.

She stood motionless, her arms by her side as I walked around her. Her brown mask was held together behind her head by a cord of the same color as the mask, it allowed access for her hair in the form a pony-tail that stopped just below her shoulder blades. Her back was smooth and unblemished falling to a nice curve that was seamlessly connected to a bubble butt and very nice legs. Standing in front of her I looked more closely at her mask, I had seen variations of this design, the eyes were covered in a material that allowed her to see out but for me not to see in.

This mask parted at the bridge of her nose, barely covered her cheek bones, allowing her mouth to be exposed, a strap under her chin held both sides of the mask in place and for me not to be able to pull the mask off if I wished to. The only access if I wanted that mask off was the cord behind her head. Her shoulders although broad were still very feminine, I got the impression she had at one time played a great deal of sports. Slave’s tits rose and fell comfortably on her chest as she struggled with her breathing, her nipples hardened slightly as the redness of her skin spread from her tits and headed up towards her neck.

“Control your breathing or you will pass out. You’re new to this, aren’t you?”

Her body gave a slight shudder before she nodded her head once. Turning back to the wall I searched for something that would help her, in one corner a selection of ball gags hung on hooks and I picked one up and walked back to her telling her to open her mouth as I did.

Once attached, I took another look at her, satisfied I said, “That’s better, the holes in the ball gag will help regulate your breathing and stop you hyperventilating.”

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