Pile of Shorts - 750 Word Project

I would like to express my thanks to my editor RF Fast who helped me produce this story. It was written for the 2026, 750 Word Challenge, details of which can be found in LITEROTICA NEWS on the landing page.

Below the **** line is exactly 750 words.

*****

She stood staring out of the French windows of the suite of the small boutique hotel nestled in the countryside. The gardens were empty but had anyone been there they would have seen a naked 21-year-old woman with a body that many would die for. She wasn't skinny, nor overweight but as her Master said, she had curves in all the right places.

Both nipples were pierced through and connected by a thin silver chain with a blue topaz at either end. Master Rob had given her the jewelled chain when they had first started becoming serious about their relationship, signifying it was the collar of consideration. A matching jewel was hidden in the folds of her labia where the silver ring pierced through her clitoris.

Her pubic area was hairless having been freshly waxed the day before, and she could still feel the pleasant tingle caused by the small hairs being torn from her body. She laughed softly as Master Rob often remarked that she had grown to be a pain slut since they had been together.

She ran her hand over her smooth mons, feeling her pulse quicken, then stayed her fingers as she was forbidden to cum until after the ceremony. Glancing to the desk she smiled as she looked at the black collar that until last night had adorned her neck for the last six months. She shivered with pleasure as she recalled how he had fastened it around her neck the day they had started to live together. She had been ordered to remove the training collar, as today she would be formally collared in front of their friends and family. The new collar would never be removed, and it would signify that she belonged to him totally without reservation.

This was her final opportunity to walk away, something which was as far from her mind as throwing herself out of the window. She was happy and contented and not only understood her place at his feet, but it was also something she desired above anything else.

When they had met three years ago, not long after she turned 18, she was a mess. A rebel without a cause that had already started to drift into a downwards spiral of drugs and alcohol abuse. Her master helped her onto a path that saved her life and they grew closer as he showed what joy there could be in placing her trust in another.

There were turbulent times where she fought against his commands and control, but he patiently explained he was doing what was good for her and also for him. He never coerced, forced or restricted her movements on a day-to-day basis, but when they played, he would bind her to a cross which was where she first learnt her love of the crop.

On the bed sat a beautiful leather crop with a bound handle and a silver horse's head. At the ceremony she would present this to him as her gift. Lying next to it was the plain, yet elegant, white silk gown. Picking it up she fastened the clasp on her left shoulder that kept the garment together. It had been superbly made by a friend and was stunning in its simplicity. It was cut in a way that meant it flowed around her as she walked, yet a touch of the silver shoulder clasp would turn it into a puddle of silk at her ankles.

She had already bound the sandals to her feet which consisted of a series of thin ropes that wound around her ankles and her calves, criss-crossing her flesh to fasten behind the knee. She had no need for underwear; in fact, it was something she never wore unless instructed by her Master, which was rarely.

The final touch was to weave her long auburn hair into a French plait that hung straight down her spine. Satisfied she was ready to devote herself to her Master for as long as he wanted her, she walked to the ceremony room, standing for a moment before knocking gently.

The door was opened, and her heart soared as she saw her elegant Master dressed in a dove grey frock coat, his silver mane brushed until in shone. On the table sat a velvet cushion bearing the collar he would soon fasten around her neck forever.

He smiled, then nodded. She touched the clasp, letting the dress fall leaving her naked to walk to the man who owned her forever.