It had taken some months, but I had finally narrowed the choices to just three. Number three-her name is Jane-waited quietly in the small waiting room outside, as I watched her through the wall-mounted camera.

"So far, so good," I thought. No fidgeting, no little noises even though her restraints must be becoming painful. She had arrived at the small and secluded temporary rental I had selected for anonymity and for proximity to the city center where most of my slave-candidates seemed to come from. She had been picked up outside a coffee shop by a limo service and brought to the unobtrusive front door of the rental house on a pleasant quiet street. She had been told to ring the bell and then enter directly, which she did without hesitation. Once she entered, I used the microphone from a separate room to tell her to shut the door firmly, and turn the lock. I looked her over again. A very, very attractive lady, early 30's, tastefully dressed, carrying a small bag. Nice make up and dark hair long to her shoulders. Everything very clean, classy, and tasteful. I felt just the tip of desire as I looked her over. About 5'7, full but not sloppy breasts, well shaped legs with well exercised calves helped by 3 inch high heels. My kind of woman, which is to say my kind of submissive.

"This could work," I thought, but then so too could the other two candidates. After looking at a number of written application and a small number of on-line interviews, I had narrowed the field to three and Jane was by far the top of the field. It took more time to narrow the field down than I had cared to invest, but the choice was, obviously, important and I believe in detail and hard work, as I will tell you more later. Once I decided to take on a new slave, I went at the process in the meticulous way typical of me and which had made me a financial success.

I had started my slave search by visiting the usual chat rooms. You are probably aware of them if you are interested in the master/slave world, but quickly found these to be too full of frauds and women who want the thrill of a flirt with submission but not the actuality. I then began hunting on my own. It is surprisingly easy to spot a woman who is a candidate for submission. Most women want to submit to a man, but the culture of female independence and their own fears, plus the fact that most men lack the character and determination to dominate a woman, keep these women from giving in to their need to submit. I am a handsome man, tall, well built, well dressed and educated and well-groomed, the kind women look at involuntarily. Often when I enter a room of any kind-a restaurant, a theater, an elevator, even a library-I will feel a contact: such as a quick smile followed by a drop of the eyes, which indicates to me both attraction and an innate need to submit. I am not afraid to approach any women. If she is standing or sitting alone I will politely ask to join her. I am not often refused. If she is with friends, a date, or even a boyfriend, I will greet her as though I know her, apologize for the error, shake the gentleman's hand, and then sit by myself and wait. Often enough the lady will excuse herself to the washroom and I will discretely follow to give a calling card with a request to call. Women are intrigued and will follow up, ostensibly for curiosity, but in reality to respond to the thrill of danger and submission to the unknown.

By now, Jane, had waited without any sign of impatience. Excellent. A slave cannot be impatient. She must be calm and fully open to control. I opened the mike. "Take off all your clothes, and place them in the closet across the room." As I watched closely through the camera, she moved calmly and gracefully across the room, opened the closet door and began to undress. Most important she did not ask for clarification, protest, or hesitate in any way. She slid the closet door open, placed her bag on the shelf, removed her shoes and placed them neatly together on the floor. She unbuttoned her blouse and hung it with a hanger, then unzipped her skirt and used another hanger. "Stop for a moment," I instructed. "Neat and orderly," I thought-more of the qualities I am looking for.

She stood there in a tasteful satin bra, matching bikini panty and open-toe high heels. "Turn around slowly.. Now stand with your legs apart." She obeyed calmly without hesitation. I could see the nipples showing through her bra cup. Her thin panty let show a nice V spread of dark hair. Excellent again. I like women to look like women, not dolls, so a luxurious spread of pussy hair is a plus for me though you may not agree.

"You see the restraints hanging in the closet. Please examine these closely. You are to use these to render yourself fully helpless. Apply them in the order you think is correct."

Again, no hesitation, no protests, no questions. She removed the gag its hook and with some effort pushed the large pear-shaped gag ball past her front teeth and fully into her mouth. Exactly correct. The gag-ball is mounted on a long black rubber-like strap, the first part narrow and the rest wide. She pulled the narrow part once around her face so that the strap went between her lips, pushing the gag ball in farther.. She pulled on the end of the strap to tighten the narrow part of the strap between her lips, then continued winding the wide part again around her head until it reached the back of her head. She pulled the strap tight and then tighter so that the end could fasten onto a Velcro strip. She looked amazing. The gag had been pushed deep into her mouth. The wide part of the strap passed around over the thinner part, covering the area between her nose and chin and pressing her cheeks flat against the filling in her mouth. I see no reason for a woman to be without a gag unless there is a specific need. While my cock down her throat is definitely the best gag, I love the look of a well-fitted gag pushing the jaw open, compressing the face, and forcing the wide-eyed "gag-look" of a well silenced submissive. Certainly Jane's eyes were wonderfully wide with a doe-like expression as she looked up to the camera to show completion of step one.

"Now take off and store the rest of your clothes, but leave the shoes," I ordered, "and continue with your work." As she placed her bra and panties in the closet, I wondered if she would continue to apply the restraints in the optimum order. I was pleased that she reached for the hobble next. She turned her back to the camera and then neatly bent at the waist, legs spread so that I had a clear view of her puffy pussy-lips and neat ass-hole. Plainly she had not been butt-fucked on a regular basis and her application stated that she was an anal virgin. The hobble consisted of an 18" light chain with two cuffs, each made of fine surgical steel with a rubber cushion on the inside to prevent injury to her delicate ankles. She applied one of the cuffs to her left ankle above the shoe strap, then snapped the other steel cuff on her right ankle. Still bent at the waist, she paused to let me see her luscious back-side and rear pussy. I controlled my rising desire as she straightened up and again reached into the closet.

The only choices remaining were the steel rubber-padded collar and the wrist cuffs. She look puzzled for a moment by the long chain-like leash hanging from an eyelet on one part of the collar and a shorter chain hanging from a second eyelet next to the locking mechanism. Then she grasped the configuration, and snapped the collar around her neck with the longer chain in front hanging down between her breasts.

"Smart girl," I thought. A certain type of intelligence is useful in a sex slave. In fact I find that intelligence is often coupled with a need to submit, and there are ways of lowering a slave's IQ as necessary, as you will later see.

"Remove the wrists cuffs from the closet, then walk forward to the door in front of you which connects to next room in this house. You will see a hook on the edge of the door above the handle at eye level." She walked over to the door obediently and waited for command. "Face the door, lift the leash chain and loop it over the hook so that your chin is lifted up. Then apply the wrist cuffs behind your back with your palms together." She lifted the longer chain from the front of the collar and stood on tip-toes to drop it over the hook. The chain held her at attention and unable to move from the door frame. She was then able to snap the cuff around one wrist, then the other so that they were closely connected by a 6 in chain.

She stood naked except for the high heels close to the door frame, chin lifted, eyes up, tightly gagged, ankles chained and wrists chained behind her. Just the way a woman should look except for one detail. "Now force your wrists up your back until you encounter the hook at the end of the collar chain hanging down your back. "There will be just enough slack so that your can lift the wrist chain over the hook, then lower your wrists slightly so that the hook engages. I want your wrists pulled well up your back and held there. I want to see your hands spread palms apart so that the form a set of wings behind your shoulders. Expect this to be painful."

She struggled to force her wrists up her back by pressing her elbows against the door frame. Finally she was able to compress her shoulders and elbows enough so that she was able to engage the hook onto a link in the wrist chain. Her wrists were pinned high up her back. This forced her elbows together above the small of her back and, even better, forced her breasts up and forward.

I let her wait in that position. She was definitely not going anywhere and the view was marvelous.. I picked up her file and reviewed it for a final time. After she had emailed to the address shown on the card I had handed her during a brief encounter at a restaurant bar, I emailed back with a brief description of the position she might fill and a detailed application form. Selecting a submissive is a serious business. The application required detail well beyond the usual age, weight, height and other physical information. It required statements as to education, health, dental care, immunizations, physical injuries and limitations, pregnancies, abortions, appendectomy, birth control, fertility, and of course STD's. It required statements as to bondage and pain toleration, gag training, toleration of confinement and long-term restraint, anal training, prolonged bladder control and the like. She was required to list in reverse chronological order all previous sexual relationships with dates and details about why the relationship ended. Most important was the essay portion in which she was required to explain in detail why she wanted to enter into a submissive relationship, her commitment to sexual submission, her level of toleration of pain, restraint, and psychological enslavement. Her essay response was so charming and sincere that I have preserved it. It still delights me to read it to her from time to time as she kneels in front of me with my cock in her mouth ready to perform.. It was many pages long, too lengthy to reproduce here, but this is an excerpt:

"I am asked in this application about my history in submission. I have never written about this and really have never fully told my story to anyone before, but you may I hope become my future master so it is certainly time to put my life experience into words. It is coming as a relief to me to finally put these memories into words even though a lot of it is very painful. I hope you understand that I am not a practiced writer and that this is very hard and emotional matter for me to talk about so please excuse me, Master (I hope I may call you that) if my story does not answer your every question. I have spent many hours composing this response because I want very much to please you and also because writing his helping me to get my thoughts and feelings together so that I can submit to you with a clear mind. I thank you deeply."

"I was not born into an easy life. I don't know how my parents got together, or if they were married, because my Mom died when I was still a young child. My Dad was not the ideal father. He worked on a ranch far from the nearest town as a kind of general helper. I don't think he was paid much. We ate with the ranch hands, all men rough and crude. I did get to go to a rural school, but as soon as I got home I did chores: cooking, cleaning, serving food to the hungry men. I learned early on that a woman's job is to please men. Problem was that my father had no interest in raising me. His only real interest was in getting drunk. Even so it was not a bad childhood. At least I had clean air, decent but hard work, companionship with the horses and other animals and even with the men who treated me as a kid sister. But everything changed when I started puberty. My breasts began to develop when I was around ten and the ranch hands began to notice me. I had no mother to buy me a bra but I learned to cinch my enlarging bust with a strip of cloth to stop the laughter and remarks from the men. I did not really know about becoming a woman but when my menstruation began I was scared at first but then realized what was happening. I stole money from my father to buy pads at the country store. But right after I turned 12 I began to get a women's body that I could not hide. My bust and hips filled out, my hair got glossy and full, I grew taller and I began to feel desire.

The ranch hands now really started to notice me. The fact that I was still emotionally a child did not matter to men who were uneducated and living a hard, marginal life. I started receiving jokes and comments constantly. Appealing to my Dad for help was useless. The change happened to me one Saturday. I left the kitchen, came back to our cabin, took a bath, put on my clean dress and was hoping to get a ride to the nearest town to look at magazines in the store. I could not afford the magazines but I loved to sneak looks at the glamorous women in the fashion magazines. I also was strongly attracted to the girlie magazines which were the closest things to porn around. One magazine was a 'true detective" type which always had pictures of women kidnapped, bound, gagged, and in danger of what I did not really know. I was powerfully attracted to these pictures and would fantasize about being bound, gagged and held by a strong and handsome but dangerous male who would use me for his desires. In this respect, I have not changed, and I truly hope that you, Master, will be the fulfillment of my childhood imaginings.

I left the store just as a group of the ranch hands were kicked out the local country bar by the bouncer. As they moved to the big ranch stake bed truck, one of them spotted me and yelled for me to come over to get a ride. I was smart enough to shake my head and start walking the long road back to the ranch. But in a minute the truck caught up with me, two of the ranch hands jumped out, and pushed me against the truck. "What's wrong, Jane?" one asked. "We all want the same thing."

They lifted me up on the flat stake bed part of the truck and held me down. Another tore my tank top off and stuffed the whole shirt into my mouth and tied coarse rope around and around my head to hold it in.. I struggled but realized that I could not fight them off. The huge gag and the tight coarse rope around my head left me weak and dizzy. They flipped me onto my stomach and tied my hands behind my back. One pulled off my boots and jeans,. They flipped me onto my back, hands underneath me and then tied my ankles to the sides of the truck. Then the party started. As they drove slowly back to the ranch, they would stop to change drivers so that they could each have a turn. By the time we got back home I was mostly unconscious. I remember my ankles being released from the sides of the stake bed and then tied together at ankles and knees. One thing ranch workers know well is how to use rope. They used plenty of it. They pinned my arms further by wrapping rope loops above and below my tits. That made my tits stick out further which delighted them. One of them carried me into the horse barn where two others had climbed the ladder to get to the upper loft where the hay was kept. They pulled me up, and then put me on my back again, tied my ankles off to posts. I did not know how many times or for how long they raped me.

I lay there in the hay, dripping cum until the cook started looking for me to help with breakfast. He had asked where I was and one of the ranch hands told him "Oh, she wanted a roll in the hay last night, so we gave it to her." Cook took the gag out, untied me, and helped me down to the barn floor. He could see that I was terrified and truly out of my mind. "I guess you won't be helping with breakfast," he said. "It's not fair to me for you to skip your chores because you want to get your jollies off." He found my jeans and boots in the truck and lent me a jacket so he could get me back to the shack I lived in. I took a drink of water and then feel asleep in my bed until the next morning.

When I woke the next morning, I felt completely detached and emotionless. When the cook came to get me to help get breakfast, I worked mechanically not really aware of what I was doing. I did not return to school that week, but just worked and slept. I did not even realize it was Saturday until I saw the ranch hands gathered outside the horse barn after dinner. I suddenly realized what was happening and tried to run, but there was nowhere to run to. They caught me easily, dragged me into the barn, gagged and bound me the same way, and had their party right there in the barn with me as the main entertainment along with cheap liquor and stupid country music.

This time the cook made them agree to take me back to my shack when they finished so I could recover enough to work the next day. I continued to work in a robotic way. I was completely devastated emotionally. Men whom I thought were my friends were now my abusers and the ranch which was my safe home had become my rape prison. I managed to shut Saturday night out of my mind for six days in the week. I returned to the country school, did my work, and no one noticed that I had become more withdrawn. Week after week, it was the same. Once I accepted that I would be raped every Saturday, I made a gag which would not mark up my face and straps which would not leave rope burns on my wrists and ankles. I wanted the gag because it helped me to blank out and kept them from shoving their cocks in my mouth. Thinking back, I find it odd that I was never raped anally but I guess that these drunken pathetic men felt just lucky to be able to fuck my pussy. Fortunately I have never become pregnant and managed to get through life without contracting any STD.

Secretly I have to admit that in some part of my mind I came to enjoy the rape. At least it was a change from the daily course of my life and gave me a certain strange status on the ranch. I had no friends and no parents. My father had just died one day and no one bothered with a funeral. I found myself looking forward to being bound and gagged every Saturday night and then gang fucked until they were compelled to let me go to get enough sleep so I could work the next day. At least it was a form of companionship.

The turning point came, when a teacher asked if I had plans for after high school. This astonished me. I had been so ground down by the routine of work, school, and rape that I had not considered any future at all. Even with my dirty little secret, that I was a weekly fuck mat, I had remained a good student by the standards of that country school where a lot of kids were either immigrants who did not speak English, drug addicted, abused, or just not real bright. She sent me to a career counselor who traveled between high schools in to the district which included a large city high school. She asked about my interests and I had no answer. Instead of just dismissing me as a dumb country girl, which I was, she must have seen that I was at least tall and pretty. She asked if I was interested in fashion and modeling. I had loved the fashion magazines when I could still find them, and despite all the brutal treatment I had become tall, strong, with a beautiful body and unusual, even compelling looks. I suddenly woke up from the stupor and saw the slim chance that I could have a real life. The counselor was startled by the transformation in me and started to lay out a plan. I had no money and almost no clothes, but there were scholarships available for trade school and that included clothes design. The there was a boarding house for women where I could live if I would cook for the house, and cooking was what I did well. I am still a talented cook and hope that I will as part of my submission be allowed to cook for Master at his pleasure.

No one came to my high school graduation and I told no one, but that day I had already backed my few possessions into a plastic bag. I never came back. I did well in trade school. Fashion design is hard work cutting, sewing, reading and studying incessantly but I was used to hard work and brutal treatment. Soon other students were asking me to model their designs at little shows. When I wore their clothes, the clothes sold. I have the build and character of a fine model even though I was not tall enough to be top model. Soon I was getting bookings in the city to model for photo shoots of all kinds. Again this is hard, often boring work, but I was used to that and being brutally bound and gagged for hours was excellent preparation for holding poses for hours in front of hot lights while being ordered around by a drug addicted swishing photographer. If anything I began to feel the need to be dominated and controlled by a man. I began to have intense dreams and waking fantasies about being kidnapped and bound by a demanding male who would force me to please him in every way. Many women have these fantasies but push them aside. For me the dreams were powerful, almost overwhelming because I had actually actually experienced them. But I had no men around me confident enough to see that I longed to submit. Most of the men in fashion world desire men themselves and are not interested in women except to envy them for being women. I put thoughts of any kind of relationship out of my mind, and just dwelt in my fantasies.

By age 21, I had achieved success beyond my dreams. I was getting regular well paid modeling jobs. I had designed a line of clothes based on a "COW GURL" look with expensive torn jeans, slutty tank tops which covered nothing but let an expensive slut bra show underneath. It sold well. For a few years I was thrilled with my life but around age 26, things began to unravel. First mistake was a business partner, an older man who said he could show me how to grow my company, but was really after control of my clothing line. In the end it did not matter because styles changed, and I did not have the emotional energy to design a new look. Also I was getting older and by the time I was 28, new fresher faces were getting the jobs.

During my 20's I had pretty much put sex out of my thoughts. But with the failure of my design business and the lack of modeling work once I turned 30, I had time on my hands and the urge to submit became overwhelming. I began to check out dating sites for alternative life styles, but was repulsed by the crude and stupid people I found there.

That is when I met you, Master. I had noticed you immediately when you walked into the bar where I was waiting to meet yet another want-to-be dominant for another dreary date which would go nowhere. When you walked up to me, handed me a card and said "call me" I had a thrill of certainty that you would be the one who would master me and fulfill me."

I looked up from reading Jane's application. The camera showed her standing face to the door frame, uncomfortable with the position of her hand pulled up her back, as I meant her to be, It was time to continue the interview.

"I will be opening the door now which will pull you by the collar leash into the room so we can continue this interview. So far you have conducted yourself well. You will continue to follow every order without delay or protest. If you are in pain, you will deal with it without whining or any appeal to me."

I slowly opened the door which pulled Jane into the room by the neck chain. The chain connecting her ankles left her just enough slack for her to be able to be able to hobble into the room. I looked her over again. In person she was even more magnificent than on camera. Long shiny brown hair, beautiful dark wide set eyes forced wide by the full mouth gag and tight gag straps, well chiseled face and clean skin. A woman any man would be proud to own.

I led her by the neck chain over to the reclining chair where I had been sitting. I pointed to a light pad I had placed on the floor to protect her lovely knees and ordered "Kneel." Since her arms were useless, I stabilized her as she bent her knees and knelt to the pad. Her eyes showed her appreciation for this consideration. I ran my hands through her hair and she put her cheek against my pants leg and exhaled with pleasure. I stood behind her and stoked her face enjoying her smooth skin and the smoothness of the kid leather gag straps which encircled her face. She arched back against me, and I pushed my hands down her neck to feel the tight power of the collar, then down to her breasts. I lifted her breasts from beneath, then rolled the nipples between my fingers. She shivered with pleasure as I kneaded her breasts, pushed them together across her chest and held them together with her elongated nipples.

I lifted the leash from the collar and held it in my hand. I sat down in the chair. I took the time to savor the pleasure of a beautiful woman kneeling in front of me who had placed herself into strict and painful bondage. She could see the rise of my cock pressing against the zipper of my pants. She leaned forward and was prepared to rub my crotch with her gagged face, but I pushed her back. In order to maintain full mastery of a woman, the master needs to demonstrate that the slave cannot manipulate him. Sexual submission is a right, not a gift. A quick slap across her face made the point clear.

"We have more to discuss. Your application has not yet been accepted, and the interview is still in process. I will ask the questions and you will answer by nods of the head."

"Is everything you have written in your application true in full?" She nodded "Yes."

Did you read carefully read the description of the relationship being offered? Yes."

Are you ready to fulfill your role as a fully submitted sex slave? "Yes."

Do you have any questions?" She shook her head "No."

"Good. I am going to remove your gag. You will remain silent unless a reply is called for. I realize that your bondage is very tight and is probably causing increasing pain. It is part of your application and the beginning of your training. Do not whimper or express your discomfort in any way. Now drop your head and lean forward."

Obediently she lowered her head. I unwound the wide portion of the gag strap exposing her lower face and then unwound the thin portion that went between hip lovely lips. Her lips were swollen from the pressure of the gag and looked deliciously full. I put a handkerchief under her chin in case saliva drooled out of her mouth, and then lifted her head as I pushed hard on her chin to immobilize her face. I had to twist the gag back and forth and pull with force to get it past her front teeth, but came out with a satisfying pop.

"Lower your eyes now, and work your jaw until you can reply to my questions with ease." I gave her a sip of water through a straw. I picked up her application response again. "This is your reply to question 32,: 'Explain why you wish to submit to sexual slavery.' Your answer in part is:

'I have always been shown that a woman's highest role is to please men. I reached womanhood at the same time I was reduced to a fuck receptacle for the men who were closest to me. Even though I know that their actions were absolutely wrong, I cannot help but be formed by what they did. In a very deep way, I need to be dominated, bound, gagged, whipped, beaten, used fucked in every hole, and enslaved by a man who commands me. I cannot submit to any man, I need a man with a clear sense of his own entitlement, whom I can respect, and submit to. Even though my business has failed and I have been unable to form a normal relationship, I still seek a man who is able to provide me with a quality life, who is sexually and physically attractive to me, and whom I know I can trust to deal with me in a way which is supportive and answers my needs. It is my instinct, Master, that you are that man. I do not presume to make conditions or requirements. If you accept my application, I will submit to you unconditionally with love and humility.'"

"That is a very good answer, Jane. I admit that I was deeply moved when I read it. I am touched by the depth of your sincerity. Your application is accepted, although there are important details you will need to know. But for now, is there anything further you would like to know?"

"Yes, Master, may I please suck your cock?"

What could I do but oblige her? As she kneeled before me, eyes downcast, I undid my belt, removed my trousers, and slid forward in the chair. She lifted her eyes and met my eyes for a moment, then began running her lips up and down the inside of my thighs, letting her hot panting breath run up my legs to my waiting crotch. She took her time as she moved closer to my crotch, then began to try to draw my testicles into her mouth through the material of my nylon briefs. She moved her mouth up and down, her excitement growing, as my cock reached its full expansion inside my briefs. Skillfully she went up to the band of my briefs and using her teeth and tongue maneuvered them down to my thighs and then down my legs. She then pulled back for a moment to show her thrill at the sight of my cock now utterly erect up pointing. She leaned slightly forward so that I could see her hands pulled up high to her shoulders by the collar chain and her palms spread out like little angel wings along her shoulder blades. Thrilled with her display of submission, I pushed farther forward on the chair as she then began to run her cheeks and lips over my swollen testicles.

As I began to thrust forward, she moved to the base of my cock, and began to run her tongue from the base then lightly to the tip and then back down again over and over, until she saw the beginning of pre-cum bubbling from the tip. She licked this off, pushing her tongue into the opening to my urethra, then at last delicately took the head of my cock into her mouth as though it were a delicious French sugar candy. Time had stopped for me as she began to move her tongue over my cock head. She looked up at me to savor my pleasure and to show the depth of her submission. She moved down my cock a fraction of an inch, circled her tongue again and then moved again, taking me slowly deeper and deeper into her mouth until my cock was at full depth in her throat. She rocked back and forth, back and forth until she perceived I was unable to hold any longer. She then gave on final thrust of her head, came up to the tip of my cock again and as I began to cry out in pleasure and spurt into her mouth, she took my cock deep into her throat and deep stroked until I was empty. She raised her head again so I could see her swallow my cum.

She sat back and lowered her head. I took a few moments to cool down from the best blow job that I -maybe any man-has ever experienced. As I came back to reality, I got out on my chair and walked behind her. I lifted the chain linking her wrists from the hook on the collar chain so that she could move her hands down her back. I massaged her upper arms to restore feeling, then waited until she was able to move her arms down past the small of her back.

"You can now extend your arms far enough so you slide the wrist cuff past your ass. You can then roll onto your ass and slide the cuffs down the back of your legs so that your wrist will be chained in front of you." Once her hands were in front, I gave her a flask of water. "Thank you, Master, she said quietly." I led her by the leash to the washroom so she could urinate and then wash herself at the sink. I sat back admiring how gracefully she moved even with the hobble limiting her. When she returned, I said: " kneel down again, Jane. Your application is accepted, and I am ready to join my life with yours, but there are many crucial things you need to know.