The Red Collar
When Analise accepts a job as an assistant to a dominatrix she discovers that Mistress Kim runs a large and complex business catering to the whims of those in the BDSM community. What scares and shocks her is how easily it is to become part of that culture. Then she is given the opportunity to continue as a dominatrix or descend to the erotic world of a slave. More
This is a 58,000 word novel intended for adult audiences.
Content warning: This story features graphic sex (including oral and anal), lesbian sex, pregnant sex, group sex, strong bondage and discipline scenes along with some sadomasochism. Strong language and adult only content.
“On your hands and knees,” she ordered.
He immediately went down on all fours. “Yes, mistress.”
Kim beckoned Analise over and removed a heavy bar from the wardrobe. “Mr. Martone likes to be put in his place. This helps remind him to always be subservient to his betters, to always serve the women in his life, isn’t that right, Mr. Martone?”
“Yes, mistress,” he replied while looking down at the floor.
“What is it?” Analise asked as Kim separated the two parts of the wooden object. It was dark brown, highly polished, about three feet in length, slightly curved and recurved with a small oval opening in the middle that was formed by indentations to the two wooden rods.
“It’s a humbler, it helps remind a man what is important in his life,” she told her. “Let me show you how to put it on him.”
“It’s fairly simple,” she explained getting down on her knees behind Mr. Martone. “You simply separate the two pieces like this, carefully place his scrotum through the opening, leave the penis free, close up the bars, and slide the locks into place. Be careful not to pinch the skin between the bars. The locks hold everything in place.”
Analise inspected Kim’s handiwork. The bar curved around the tops of Mr. Martone’s thighs, as if he were sitting on a fence rail. His scrotum hung out the back, his penis dangled free. She was surprised he wasn’t the least bit erect at this point. The positioning of his testicles and the curve of the humbler just under the edge of his buttocks forced him into an ungainly position, leaning forward and unable to move in Analise’s estimation. It looked terribly painful if he were to move.
“Now crawl to the table,” Kim ordered. She looked at Analise. “This will take him a few minutes. I’ll get us some drinks while Mr. Martone gets into position.”