Dirty politics option

I start working as soon as she leaves. The matching manacles, ankle cuffs and **** collar come with D-rings that make attaching chains easy, so that's not a problem. Next, I turn my attention to where I plan on keeping my newly acquired ****. For a fantasy like this I'm going to need somewhere a little more exotic than a bedroom, and I think I know the perfect space.

The basement of my colonial is only semi-finished with concrete floors and roughly finished plywood walls. Where some families might have made this extra space into a TV room with wall-to-wall carpeting or even a small apartment for guests to stay, Fran and I agreed that this would be my workshop and storage space. One nook of the basement between the furnace room and the Southern wall is already pretty empty, and it only takes a few minutes to clear it out and mop the floor clean. I fix a larger D-ring to the center of the cement floor and bolt more of these rings to the walls and overhead rafters. I set up a camp bed with a couple of old blankets against the wall and two bright work lights that light the whole area up with a brightness that rivals the sun.

If I ever decide to sell this property, I'm going to have to undo these changes, because right now it looks like something out of a lifetime drama about some creepy pervert. Overall though, I'm pretty pleased with the effect. It really does look a lot like a dungeon cell and will make securing my pretty captive in all manner of sexy positions easy. I make no attempt to hide the chains, collar and manacles. Instead, I hang them up on display for Alison to see when I lead her down to her new cell. The final touch is an old, covered bucket for her to relieve herself with and an empty plastic jug filled with water.

I leave the jeweler's box with the gold hoops along with a needle and one of those **** swab packets on a small shelf. I know Alison said I could do whatever I wanted, but I don't want to have to take her to a clinic in a week or two because her ear got infected.

A little after noon, I hear someone using the outside steps. Usually, Alison makes it a point to come in through the kitchen, but I know that it's her by the lightness of the steps. Sure enough, a minute later I hear the shower running and then after that the hairdryer.

When she comes downstairs, her hair is up in a bun and wearing an elegant cocktail dress that barely reaches the middle of her smooth thighs. The blue silk is stretched tightly over her breasts and the thin spaghetti straps that hold it up look like they might snap at any minute. It is both sexy as Hell and classy at the same time.

“Wow.” I make no attempt to hide my reaction. “Do your parents know you own a dress like this?”

“Oh no!” The horror in her eyes is priceless. “My mom would have heart attack if she saw me like this and my dad would paddle my backside for sure. I got it from my friend Katie, is it OK?”

“Well, Miss Miller.” I give my bright-eyed tenant an indication of where this is going. “I'm sure by now you've learned that your father's Progressive Party has been disbanded.” I make up this imaginary scenario of a corrupt dictator taking the defiant daughter of his political rival. “He and his allies are awaiting trial in the capital prison, but your case is a little more personal.” Alison immediately knows where this is going.

“The people will not stand for this, Your Eminence.” With her hair up and the scowl on her face, she looks for all the world like an Imperial debutante out of Sparrowhawk's books. “When they learn what you've done, they will rise up.”

“I think my dear, that you overestimate how much your liberal friends really care about corruption, nepotism and as you put it, the evils of slavery.” Alison's doe eyes widen slightly, and she shakes her head slowly in confusion when I take her by the hand and lead her down to the basement. When she sees the 'cell' I've prepared for her I see just a momentary hint of a smile but there is a hushed nervousness when she speaks.

“You've been busy Mr. P.”

A few minutes later I have her collar, handcuffs and shackles on and chained together. I lock the chain to the floor and sit her down on her pretty ass. The final step is to pull out her neatly coifed bun, so her soft hair tumbles down onto her shoulder. I have to admit the sight of her looking up at me made all the work I put in this morning worth it.

“I've read your many posts on the PubCom, Miss Miller.” I tell her sternly. “Your vitriolic rants about me and my government were quite harsh.” I lick my lips in anticipation, “Especially your views on the practice of enslaving pretty young women to use as sextoys by those in power.”

“Buying and selling human beings is fundamentally wrong, Sir. It's even worse when those slaves are **** for some sick bastard's pleasure.” Alison seems to be on surer ground now. “The sooner the people of this planet understand this, the better it will be for everyone.”

“I wonder how many days in this cell it would take to make you change your tune.” I stroke her blonde hair softly as I let her know her fate. The lovely young woman pulls away angrily.

“No amount of time will ever change my mind about that, you sick pervert!”

“I know.” I smile cruelly. “That's why I'm going to have to take a more direct approach to train you.” It isn't hard to guess what I have in mind, and I see Alison's face flush prettily as she protests softly.

“You wouldn't dare!” But I am looking forward to breaking in this proud Imperial woman, and she knows it.