The Prankster Ch. 01

Angela had until today identified as heterosexual. Though she had never given any thought to it. She simply fancied men so far. That this woman had made such an impression was unexpected. Was she now bi or was she straight except for Mistress? Right now though she supposed it was moot. How had it gone? 'As a slave, I no longer have a sexuality. I will fuck, or be fucked by, whomever Master desires.' Though somehow she couldn't see John prostituting her.

Suddenly Mistress was inside her head, speaking through the earphones.

"So slave now you are enclosed in latex. Your sight will improve once your eyes have adjusted. So, one last chance to back out. Just nod if you are happy to continue as a slave rather than a patient. If you shake your head not much will change, as you have to wear this stuff. But if you nod I will lock you in my collar again and you will not be able to free yourself."

Angela eagerly nodded and was rewarded with the sensation of the collar being tightened and the click of the padlock that secured it.

As this was being done Angela wondered why she was finding it so erotic. On the face of it, it was demeaning. She was collared like an animal. Being ordered about like a servant. Placed in restraints like a criminal. Used as an object. Why was she finding all that sexual? It made no sense, but she had never been so aroused as she was now.

"So slave, can you make me out?"

Angela nodded.

"Good then stand and make your way to the bedroom door, then return to me."

When Angela turned at the door she realised Mistress had moved. Peering through the gloom she saw her stood against the drapes. Teetering on her toes she made her way across to her, kneeling on arrival, though she had not been commanded to.

"Well, you can see to get about, which is good enough for now."

She bent forward and attached a leash to Angela's collar.

"So slave we are going downstairs to present you to your Master. Professionally I have gone out on a limb for you here. Both your partner and the professor will be asking me hard questions. So I will be cross with you if you back out of your role now. Is that clear?"

Angela nodded vigorously. She was enjoying being a rubber slave. If she had to dress in this ridiculous way for her health, then the role-play almost seemed a sane response.

"Then stand and follow me, slave."

Mistress led Angela down to the living room. The stairs were tricky in the ballet boots, but she managed by putting both hands on the bannister and feeling her way down.

As they entered Master stood up, his face clearly showing surprise.

"Kneel, slave," ordered Mistress. Dutifully Angela obeyed, assuming the position she had been taught. Which raised Master's eyebrows once more.

"Slave, I'm going to blindfold you now and play white noise through your headphone. Hold your position until told to do otherwise."

Angela's vision, weak as it was, turned pitch black, and her ability to hear was masked by an electronic hiss of random noise.

Isolated as she was all she could do now was wait.

-*-

"Okay, she's blind and deaf now. Your face is a picture. You have questions?"

"Yeah, I do. Let's start with; What the actual fuck!?"

"What? Come on. You approached Sally. You said you wanted to trick your girlfriend into being a gimp. Kneeling before you is one latex gimp, as ordered. What's the problem?"

"I envisaged Angela dressing in this stuff reluctantly. I thought she would endure this, not embrace it. How the fuck is this a prank on her if she is enjoying it? Fuck, look at her! She's got her knees spread like a whore, and drool running down her tits."

"So this has not gone as you planned. Sorry. But it is clear your woman has a huge lady boner for all this. So you need to adapt. The benefits of this for you are huge. I mean, Jesus, you have your own latex sex slave kneeling at your feet. You are straight, aren't you? Your dick does work I take it? Coz this slave girl is dipping hot and ready to suck your cock dry."

"Bullshite! Ange doesn't give head. Hates the taste. Won't do it."

"What? Ha! Okay, boy," Vicky drawled the word boy, "here is what's going to happen. I'm going to restore this gimp's sight and hearing. I'm going to tell it what you have said. I'll then order this slave to give you the best blow job it is capable of."

"Good luck with that," John interrupted, "she won't do it."

"Well, if it does, you have to do some things for me."

"Like what?"

"One, praise her but make sure you call her nothing but Slave. You'll ruin this for her if you start gushing thanks."

"Two, admonish her for refusing in the past. Instruct me to punish her for this. Do not interfere with any punishment I give her. You'll not need to feel sorry for her. She is enjoying it. Trust me."

"Three, once I have punished her you must declare that you cannot believe that this slave is Angela. As Angela would not behave this way. Then rename her. Give this gimp a new name we can call her. Your shout as to what but make it demeaning. Cunt if you like or Slut or something similar. Then instruct me to put her away. I'll then put her in the vacuum bed and we can talk more about how to proceed."

"And if she doesn't suck cock?"

"If she doesn't it's your show. Do as you please. I'll follow the orders you give. Reveal the gag and point out the hidden cameras for all I care. But I'm fairly certain she'll perform. Are you ready? I'll take her blindfold off now."

Angela felt Mistress's hands before her vision was restored. Master was still standing in front of his chair. Things seemed brighter. Her eyesight was indeed adapting to the lenses.

The hiss of the headphones stopped and Mistress's voice came through clear.

"Slave, your Master has told me something shocking. It's something I find hard to believe. He says in the past you have refused to give head. He thinks that even though you are now a slave you would be foolish enough to refuse to perform now."

Mistress's voice took on a softer more friendly tone.

"Now I know that you want to be a good slave for your owner. So here is what you are going to do. You are going to crawl over to your Master. You will beg his forgiveness by licking his shoes until he commands you to stop. When he does you will unzip your Master's fly and take his manhood in your slutty mouth. You will then give your Master the best blow job you possibly can. You will gag on your Master's dick. You will deep-throat his cock, and when he comes, you will swallow every drop of his gift to you. Is that clear, slave?"

Angela nodded, realising that she really was going to do what she had been ordered. It had been a subject of contention in the past with John. She did love him. But she had never wanted to put his dick in her mouth. The girls at work did it for their men. They'd laugh at her if they found out she didn't. What would they say if they found out about this?

She reached his feet and started lapping his shoes. Long slobbering strokes of her tongue over the leather. The taste was odd but not repulsive. What would his dick taste like? She switched foot dreading the moment he said enough. Knowing she would do this thing.

Hoarsely came his command, "Enough girl."

She rose up from his feet to stare at his bulging crotch. Her glossy hands gently reached for his fly zip, his hands did not move from the arms of the chair. The zipper pulled down his dick almost popped out. Firm, hard, erect the foreskin pulled back and helmet flared. Grasping it at the base she directed it into her mouth, straining to get her lips to close around it, spread as they were by the gag.

Desperately she tried to recall every written account of oral sex she had ever read. What did men like? What did Master like? Experimenting she slowly drew her tongue up between the glands and then began to circle the helmet with the tip. This produced a pleasurable moan so she repeated the action.

Lowering her mouth further down his shaft he hit the back of her throat. She nearly gagged but swallowed instead. His member entered her throat, but she could not breathe. She forced herself down his shaft driving him deeper down her until her lips and nose were crushed against him. Lifting off until she could breathe she grabbed a hurried breath before impaling herself once more.

"Superb, slave, well done," came Mistress's encouragement through the headphones. "Now go faster for him, make your owner happy."

Initially discombobulated at getting critique from a third party, whilst blowing her partner, Angela realised Mistress was pleased with her and redoubled her efforts.

Vicky watched the woman's head bob furiously on John's cock. She was magnificent, but the boy (she could not bring herself to think of him as a man) was an almost total loss. How was it they were a couple? What did she see in him? Clearly, love was blind.

So how to progress? Angela was loving the role of a slave. Every test Vicky put her way she passed with flying colours. She deserved the chance to explore this facet of herself fully. John, though, was unlikely to let her. Already pouting that his plan had gone awry, this blow job may mollify him for a while, he would eventually try to bring a halt to proceedings. He needed diverting, but how? Perhaps, first, a little division between the happy couple? Then, later, a chat with Sally. Sally had contacts Vicky didn't. After all, Vicky was just a humble shopkeeper while Sally was a pro-domme of many years.

Angela risked a look up, to see Master was kissing Mistress. The shock of it almost stopped her, but just at that moment Mistress looked down at her and silently mouthed, "Keep going, slave."

Angela realised Mistress had hold of Masters's hair in her left hand. Her right hand was pushing him down on his chest. Mistress was kissing Master, he didn't seem to have much say in the matter.

Plunging back into her role as the slave, she thrust her Master's cock into her throat once more. It really wasn't as bad as she had feared. Though she was never going to admit that to John.

Then Master's shaft seemed to stiffen further and tremble before pumping forcefully three or four times, great gobs of cum into her mouth.

Instinctively she lifted off him, but the gag stopped her from spitting.

"Show your Master his seed in your mouth, slave," came Mistress's command.

Rather than let it dribble out, Angela lifted her face so John could see.

"Good girl, now swallow his gift to you."

A dick pressing on the back of her throat, comparatively, had been easy, but perversely the gag made it hard to get the cum down. She was so used to swallowing with her mouth closed. Eventually, she managed the task and displayed her empty mouth to her Master.

"Well done, slave," said John. "That was a pretty good blow job. But it begs a question, girl. How come, if you're that good at giving head, did you always refuse to in the past?"

Angela stared dumbly at her partner. She could not reply. Doubtless, she could gurgle some half-intelligible response through the gag. But it would lack tone or inflexion. She could not be as eloquent as she felt she needed to be.

"Vicky, I think some discipline is needed. I think this slave needs to be taught a lesson," continued John.

"Indeed, Sir. You are quite correct. It clearly needs to learn the consequences of deceit. I suggest six strokes Sir, delivered immediately."

"Do it," came the curt order.

"Stand, slut," barked Mistress and Angela struggled to her feet bewildered. She was being punished for something she didn't do before she was collared. That hardly seemed fair.

"Turn around, slave, and put your arms behind you," commanded Victoria.

As soon as she complied, Angela felt both her wrists being secured together. Then they were hauled up her back and secured, painfully high, by something that was clearly attached to her collar. The effect was to place her in a full nelson that, if she tried to lower her arms, pulled the already tight collar into the front of her throat. Her arms were now useless to her.

Mistress then took her leash and led her over to the dining area. Pulling one of the dining table chairs out from its place, she put it in front of the now very nervous submissive, with the back towards the slave.

Victoria then pulled the leash down, forcing Angela to stiffly bend over the dining chair. With no arms to support her, and a corset holding her waist rigid, she was forced to bend almost double at the hips over the back of the chair.

Happy with the vulnerable position the dominatrix tied the leash off to the front of the chair, holding the slave in place.

Briefly, the roaring hiss of white noise filled Angela's world. But it quickly stopped and was replaced by Victoria's whispered voice.

"Listen carefully, slave. I've sent your master upstairs to fetch the spreader bar and the crop. I don't have much time. You are thinking this is unfair. You are right. But as you are a slave, that does not matter. Get used to it. If to bring happiness to your master you must suffer, then so be it. You are the trapped spider that has its legs pulled off one by one by the small boy. You must be the masochist to his sadist if required, and that is why I'm talking to you in confidence now."

"You impressed him with that blow job, now I want you to show him you are happy to suffer for him. I said six strokes. I want you to take more than that. This is a very hard test. Before I commence, I will release your leash. I will tell you if you break position, I will start the count again. Stand up before the sixth stroke, girl. Do this for me, your Mistress, to show your devotion, do it for your Master so he can see you will take the pain he gifts you."

Abruptly the white noise returned. Then her ankles were gripped, and it was made clear she should spread her legs wider. Resting her weight on the chair, she shifted her feet in the ridiculous and painful boots.

Inevitably the spreader bar was attached, and a caressing hand ran up the inside of her right thigh. On reaching her crotch, the hand cupped her pussy and gave it a light squeeze. Once released, a playful, but surprising swat to her backside made her squeal.

Something was forced in through the ring of the gag. It was slippery and tasted of rubber and quickly started to grow. It soon filled her mouth, and she could feel it stretching her cheeks. She could still breathe through her mouth though, which seemed odd, so she guessed the gag must have a tube through it somehow.

As promised, the tension at the front of the collar was released. A hand on her back stopped Angela from instantly rising, and the white noise was turned off too.

"Slave, you are about to be punished for deceiving your Master. You will receive six strokes. You will hold your position. If you could speak, I'd have you keep count, but lucky for you, you are gagged. If you break position, I will start the count again. I will check after each stroke if you are willing to continue. A refusal will see your collar removed permanently. Do you understand, slave?"

Angela nodded her head. She could stop this all with a shake of her head? She had a safe word again? Did she want to do that? This had been so much fun up to now.

Fire exploded in her backside. Angela screamed into the gag. "Warn a girl could you?" Thought Angela panting through her gag. "That fucking hurt!"

"That's one. Ready for the next, slave?"

Despite her best judgment, Angela nodded.

It happened again. This line of fire lower down near the tops of her thighs. "Why am I putting up with this?" She asked herself. "Am I insane?"

"Two. Still okay in there, slave?"

Angela nodded before she realised she had given permission for the third stroke. Somehow this stoke seemed harder, and her scream was louder and longer. Reflexively she tried to reach for her bum but succeeded only in jerking the collar tighter into her throat.

"Good girl, slave. You are doing so well, three stokes, and you have held position perfectly," purred Mistress. "It seems we have a little masochistic pain slut on our hands."

A hand started to stroke her bum, a finger tracing the lines of fire that seemed to be spreading over her rear. After a brief dalliance, it found its way down to her belly and then between her legs, where it started massaging her clit.

"Heating up down here are we, pain slut? Is the fire spreading to other places, slave girl?"

Angela nodded again.

Her scream was more in rage that she had invited the fourth stroke than at the pain. The hand had not left her clit though, and she realised the pain was turning her on. Was Mistress right? Was she a masochist? She could see why slaves were dressed in rubber. It was feeling pretty slick under those teasing, kneading fingers.

"So that was four. I can feel your heat, slave. It's clear you were born to be collared. You're revelling in this, aren't you? This isn't a punishment for you; it's sex. I take it you are ready for stroke number five, slave?"

A clear question and Angela realised she was on a precipice. If she shook her head now, it would all be over. The rubber suit would stay. As would the shoes and dildos. Tonight she would submit to this vacuum bed thing the professor had described, and tomorrow she would eat the low-volume food and suffer another enema. But she would be a patient. The fun bit. The sexy bit. That would stop. This crazy roller coaster ride would become sterile.

If she nodded though... Sure, more sex. Sex perhaps with Mistress. She hoped so. Master hadn't kicked off at Victoria's advances. Pain, loss of control, humiliation, shame, bondage, plus who knows what else Mistress could think of? Did she really want to commit to this?

Angela nodded, knowing what she had to do next. As it happened, she did not have to act. The crop hit her left cheek only. But the tip of the whip struck her pussy.

Her scream hurt her throat though she was only aware of the pain between her legs. She stood straight up and howled in pain. A howl that turned into sobs, as she realised she had claimed another five stokes on top of the remaining one.

Mistress grabbed her collar ring and hauled her back down into position. She re-attached the leash.

"Oh dear, slave. Now I'll have to start again," crowed Mistress. "But this time, no head shaking. You're getting six strokes whether you like it or not. Hold your position though, or I can still start again."

The blows rained down in quick succession this time, without Mistress waiting for Angela to nod. Each stripe of fire extracted a squeal of pain as it landed. Tears, trapped by the latex hood, pooled under her eyes. The fifth blow once again caught Angela's sex. This time, for what reason she did not know, she lifted her left foot.

"There's a term for subs like you, slave," drawled Mistress. "We call them Smart Assed Masochists, or SAM for short. You provoke your owners to get the beatings you crave. Be careful little girl, I know just how to punish your sort too. I promise you, you will not like it."

As she finished talking, the sixth blow landed without warning. Angela once again screamed futilely into her gag.

"Understand this girl. Under my tutelage, you will learn discipline, decorum and submission. You will learn to obey without hesitation. You will truly strive with all your heart to please your owner in any way you can. You will learn that, as a slave, the only way you can gain happiness, is through service and pleasing your Masters."

"Shall I beat her further, sir? I think, personally, that stopping now with the bitch wanting more would prove more sobering for this pain slut."

"I agree, Vicky. Are you sure that's Angela in that suit, though? I'd never have attributed this sort of behaviour to her."

"Ahh, that's the freedom the slave gains in their collar. Released from the conventions of society. Reduced to the status of chattel, they get to act on their base desires. So long as they obey us, we allow them this freedom, while we keep them in bondage."