My wife, Sue, and I had and still have a happy marriage. While not particularly affluent, we both had passable jobs, were satisfied with life and still loved each other.
The changes started one evening a few weeks before Christmas. Our lovemaking had been almost ferocious, with love-bites, gentle slaps and an atmosphere like a wrestling match. Both of us were highly aroused and aggressive, but the climax occurred as we did a sixty-nine with her on top.
She had my arms pinned under her legs and was grinding her pussy into my face quite forcefully. As the scene progressed, she would periodically withdraw her mouth from my cock, lean back, take my hair in one hand and guide my efforts in eating her. The frustration it caused me, quite visibly, proved to be a turn-on for both of us.
The scene was quite intense. When it ended, we fell asleep quickly and did not discuss it until the next day.
Sue confided in me, "I practically raped you last night, and you loved it!"
"Yes, it's true. I'm not sure, but I think I enjoyed it even more than raping you!"
"I think you like giving up control."
"I do. Especially when you enjoy taking it."
"Maybe we should do it more often. What do you think?"
"Do what, Sue?"
"Let me take control."
I thought for a moment. My first response was an instant erection. Sue saw it through my pants and smiled.
"Yes, I think you'd like it, maybe even on a regular basis."
She was correct. That night, when we went to bed, she sat on the edge of the bed in her negligee, watching me undress. As I moved, naked and erect, towards the bed, she said, "Hold it right there, darling. I think I'd like you to eat me to orgasm first."
For an instant, I felt threatened. Then, I saw her eyes, as she smiled, observing my erection. "You know you want it this way, right?"
I nodded. I knelt, naked, on the floor at her feet. Guided by her hands at my hair and on the back of my head, I ate her to several orgasms. Finally, after well over thirty minutes, she invited me to get into bed with her. With me on my back, she rode my cock to orgasm, bringing herself off again as well.
She layed on top of me for several minutes, as we enjoyed our afterglow. Then, suddenly, she rose, crawled up over me and sat on my face.
As always, I instinctively buried myself in her pussy, my lips and tongue working away. But I had forgotten. Her pussy was now filled with the load I had placed there minutes ago.
Realizing this, I struggled. But again, my arms were pinned under her knees, and I could not escape.
Actually, I could have. I am certainly stronger than she, and I could have wrestled her off of me at any time. Yet, the utter humiliation of sucking my own come out of her cunt paralyzed me. I did not want to escape. And with her forcefully taking my mouth, feeding me my own load, pulling my hair as she ground herself into me, my erection returned, only minutes after my previous orgasm.
She saw it, and saw my hips bucking. Smiling, she felt me trying to free my right arm from beneath her leg, wanting to masturbate. Still smiling, she held me more forcefully. "No, dear. Bring me off again first, then you can masturbate if you'd like."
I licked and sucked her more enthusiastically than I ever had since we had gotten together. Her second time around, her orgasm took several more minutes. Mine was waiting for a single touch.
Finally, she raised her left knee, freeing my right arm. I took my cock in hand and stroked it several times as Sue took my hair and pulled my mouth back onto her cunt. I came, instantly.
Looking back and watching, she smiled. She replaced my right arm under her leg, then took two fingers and scooped up some of the come which had landed on my chest. She presented the fingers to my mouth to be licked clean.
I resisted, keeping my mouth closed.
"Come now, you want to make me happy, don't you? And there's something about seeing you eating your own come that really turns me on. Open!"
The last word was a firm command, harshly delivered and emphasized with her hand tightly gripping my hair. I opened my mouth. She then fed me my come, returning many times to my body until she had scooped it all up and fed it back to me. Thruout, she remained seated on me, her cunt inches from my mouth, my arms helplessly pinned beneath her legs.
Minutes later, we layed side by side in bed. We had kissed, lovingly and passionately, mouth to mouth, with her unmindful of what tastes my mouth still bore. We had expressed the heartfelt "I love you" 's, then we both became absorbed in thought.
She finally spoke first. "I hope I wasn't too rough on you, dear."
"Not at all. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised."
"I must admit, it was an incredible turn-on, getting pushy with you the way I did."
"It turned me on, as well."
She rolled over, looked me straight in the eyes and smiled.
"You know, I think you not only enjoyed it, but would love nothing in this world more than to get the same and more on a regular basis."
''To be honest, Sue, I have a whole set of fantasies that involve just that."
She smiled widely, and said, "Be careful what you fantasize--you may find your dreams coming true!"
We slept soundly.
The following morning, I had to leave for work well before my wife. I had my coat on and was approaching the door where Sue waited for me, still in her negligee, to kiss me good-bye.
As we embraced and kissed, she said, "I love you, darling."
"And I love you, too."
"Last night was incredible,..." At this, I smiled, lecherously. "...but I wonder, how far would you be willing to go to make me happy?"
I looked her straight in the eye, and said, "Try me."
She laughed, and said, "I had just that in mind. How would you like to get down on your knees and eat me to orgasm right here and now, before you go?"
Her hand found its way into my hair again as I returned her stare. My eyes dropped, and she knew I would submit. Her grip in my hair tightened, and pushed down.
Fully dressed, I knelt at her feet and ate her to orgasm. It took only a few minutes and left me with a raging hard-on which, now, I would not have time to relieve. Finished, I made a move toward the bathroom, to re-wash my face, but she stopped me.
"No, dear. Take it with you, a reminder of my love."
I left the house with not only an aching cock, but the taste and smell of my wife's juice on my face. It kept me aroused for much of the day and was still detectable when I returned home that night.
Her dominating attitude grew as Christmas approached. She began demanding cunnilingus from me several times each day, and more of it at night. Most mornings, she did nothing for my arousal and occasionally denied me pleasure at bedtime. My arousal grew, as did my submission, as each day found me doing more and more of what was once her housework, at her request.
12/23
Finally, a couple of days before Christmas, as I knelt at her feet at bedside, having just finished eating her to orgasm, she looked down at me and asked me the question that would change both our lives.
"Tell me, my love, how would you like to become my slave?"
I thought about her question. I was not immediately shocked, but what the question implied was not yet clear. "You know I'd do anything for you, Sue."
"Yes, I know. But supposing I wanted to demand much more from you, far beyond what you would find pleasant?"
"Such as what?"
"Such as taking complete control of you, spanking or punishing you if you displeased me, tying you up, denying you pleasure, no limits."
Now, I hesitated, thinking hard. "I suppose it would depend on how far you went. I love you, and would do anything that would make you happy. And I trust you. But, what if..."
"If your answer is yes, there can be no preconditions. What I'm talking about is the complete freedom to do anything I want with you, unconditionally."
Again, I thought. I said, "The idea turns me on, but I'd be afraid to commit to something like that blindly."
She took me by the hair and pulled me forcefully back into her cunt. As I began licking, she said, "Well, think about it."
Over thirty minutes later, as I suffered with a most demanding unrelieved erection, I agreed to her proposal. I would sign a formal document of submission to her on Christmas day. Between then and the New Year, we would feel out the situation, set up some ground rules and acquire some equipment. On January first, I would officially begin serving her as a full slave.
An hour later, she rode my cock to orgasm. Again, she then straddled my face and fed me back my come, bringing herself off again as my erection returned. As she laid beside me, pulling my hand away from my cock, she said, "No, my future slave. You'll only come once tonight. Once you're my complete slave, who knows how often you'll be permitted to come?"
With a great force of will, I obeyed.
12/24
Christmas Eve, she tied me for the first time. She bound my wrists together with stockings, then attached them to the headboard of the bed. She sat on my face and teased my cock briefly, then abruptly rose and got out of bed.
She stood and faced me, and said, "Tonight, my future slave, you will not come. You will remain bound as you are all night to make sure you don't cheat. You will, however, serve me all night. Tomorrow, I may allow you to come, after you sign your agreement." She then turned and left.
For an hour or so, she moved about the house doing what she wanted. I laid helpless, erect and aroused, with only her taste on my lips to keep me company.
Bondage is an amazing experience. For short periods, it enhances all physical experience, frees one of all responsibilities, and allows, through struggles, a much wider range of physical expression. In fantasy, it allows experience far beyond reality, with no practical limits on safety, comfort or human capability.
In reality, however, there are differences. My nose itched, my arms and shoulders got stiff, and there was an element of real fear. True helplessness can be as intense as any fantasy, but it can also be threatening.
Sue returned. She carried one of my wide caisson belts. "Comfy?"
"Yes, I guess. My nose is itchy, though."
She chuckled, and said, "Aw, poor dear! Don't worry, though. I'll let you scratch it on my cunt very soon. In the meantime, you're going to get another new experience. Roll over!"
It was a command, not a request. I obeyed instantly. As I laid on my frontside, my hands still bound to the headboard, I looked again at my wife, now brandishing my belt. Suddenly, my ass felt very vulnerable. She watched my face, smiling, seeing the realization in my face of what was about to take place. "Yes, my love. Tonight, we start playing hardball. Tomorrow, should you change your mind, you may choose not to sign the agreement. But now, you'll get a taste of what the future will bring. For this night, your ass is mine!"
I looked back in fear, almost whimpering.
"You're going to get a dozen hard strokes, just to please my curiosity. Then, you'll roll over on your back again, your ankles will be bound, and you'll eat me to orgasm."
I said nothing. I gritted my teeth and waited.
She wound up and swung the belt hard against my asscheeks. Even before it hit, my heart skipped a beat, seeing the power she was putting into the stroke. When it did hit, my ass exploded in a pain I had never felt before. My mouth opened in a silent scream, the wind knocked out of me. A second stroke landed, compounding the effects of the first. My body jackknifed, bouncing around the bed to the limits allowed by my bound wrists, as my screams were finally brought to the surface.
Sue was displeased. She put down the belt, saying, "This won't do at all!" She quickly got our two pillows and placed them under me, raising up my ass in the air. She then took two bathrobe sashes and, spreading my ankles painfully wide, tied them to the lower corners of the bed.
Now I was stretched tight as a bowstring. My asscheeks were equally stretched, and I knew the following strokes would hurt more.
They did. The next stroke caused my body to bounce upward a few inches, then resume its position. A deep, desperate moan escaped my lips as I knew myself totally helpless and vulnerable. I was convinced I was already bleeding and would not survive.
Stroke number four was equally powerful. Yet, something happened in my head. Up to this point, I had a choice to say no. Now, my helplessness was complete. My choice was gone. I would submit, because no other choice existed. Also, I knew I suffered my agony to please my wife. On each succeeding stroke, I knew her to be more and more my Mistress.
The dozen strokes ended--I had lost count. I was crying, gently, into the mattress. My wife's hand gently caressed my now-burning ass, fingering my first-ever welts. Amazingly, I smiled, through my tears. Sue looked down at me, shocked at the smile, as I said, "Please, darling, always be sure I please you well, and punish me if I fail you."
Now, she smiled back. "I certainly will, my love."
She took two more pillows and placed them at the head of the bed. She seated herself against them, then slid towards me. She lifted my head by the hair, then lowered my face into her cunt. "Please me." She still had the belt at hand.
The position was difficult for me, as my head was bent back at an awkward angle. My tongue would not extend as far. Still, Sue demanded her pleasure. Sensing a lack of effort, she swung the belt again to my ass.
"More tongue!"
I screamed again, then strained my muscles to obey, extending my tongue further than I thought possible.
Her arousal grew again, approaching an orgasm. As her climax neared again, she suddenly rose, without explanation, and left the room.
I heard her rummaging around for a couple of minutes as I rested my tired mouth. My cock, still painfully hard, pressed into the pillows still beneath me, but I was stretched so tightly in my bondage I could not move enough even to pump myself into the pillows.
She returned and resumed her seat. She brought a book, two magazines, a sandwich and a carafe of wine.
"No need to rush my orgasm, dear. After all, I've got you all night!"
My cock pulsed; my tongue resumed its work.
I could not see what she read. It clearly helped her arousal at times, as she pumped my face and juiced regularly. At other times, she stopped my movements with just a pat on my head, content to simply have my face buried in her cunt. But no sooner would I catch my wind, then she would promptly start my oral ministrations again with a firm handful of my hair.
Occasionally, she would put down her reading material, look down at me laboring for her pleasure and smile. She would pick up the belt and say, "Keep licking, my slave-to-be, unless you'd like some encouragement!" Sometimes she would encourage me, with anything from a gentle tap of the belt to a full strength stroke. Sometimes, she'd allow the very tip of the belt to give my balls a gentle, but painful, slap. She was amused at my fearful reactions as my balls ached, reminding me of my own arousal. And she had already stated, in no uncertain terms, that I would not come that night.
It felt like hours later when she finally rose. She had finished her snacks and the wine, had read her magazines, had actually finished her book and had come more often than I could count. She used the bathroom, then returned to set up my restraint for the night.
She freed my ankles, removed the pillows and allowed me to flip over onto my back. I was shocked as my ass hit the sheets--I would feel the welts I bore for days!
She rebound my ankles at the foot of the bed, again spread wide. She now had total access to my cock and balls. Getting into bed again, she took my balls in her hand and squeezed, hard enough to make me grimace in pain.
"You're really going to be mine, aren't you?"
My cock, rock hard, ached for attention. I would have begged her to whip it with the belt, anything to get her to simply touch it, but she cut off any possible response by mounting my face again.
"Once more, my wonderful cunt-licker!"
Again, my tongue served her. This time, she bore the slight, acrid aftertastes from her bathroom trip. Realizing this, my cock pulsed again, even harder. She used me quickly and brutally, pulling hard on my hair throughout, unmindful of my discomfort. As she came, she ground hard all over my face, bathing me in her juice. Finally, she was sated, and laid down beside me.
Her thigh crossed mine, her arm laid across my chest. "I still can't believe you're going to be totally mine. I'm going to enjoy you so-o-o much!"
Surprising me, she suddenly took my cock in her mouth, took it down deep into her throat just once, briefly, then let it go.
"Good night, darling!"
I groaned loudly in the agony of supreme frustration. Her single stroke of my cock had practically brought me to orgasm! Even before my groan ended, she had put out the light and went to sleep.
I remained bound and frustrated all night. Twice, I awoke to find her straddling my face again. Each time, she pumped my mouth quickly, bringing herself off, restoring my erection, then rolled over and returned to sleep.
12/25
Morning finally arrived. She awoke me with her cunt on my mouth yet again, this time facing away from me. My eyes opened to the sight of her asshole, practically burying my nose.
She brought herself off quickly, then rose and freed my bonds.
She asked, "If I leave your hands free, can you promise me you won't even touch your cock without my permission?"
My erection screamed for attention. I told her I could not be sure of keeping such a promise.
"Alright, then. Turn around."
She bound my hands behind my back.
I was made to kneel, then simply watched as she dressed. She wore a black wraparound skirt over stockings and garters, then put on a red pullover top, one she knew I loved because of the way it hugged her breasts. Without a bra, it would be a daring choice for street wear. Today, however, we would not be going out.
She told me to rise and follow. I obeyed, accompanying her to the kitchen. There, she sat, freed my hands, and said, "Breakfast will be pancakes, scrambled eggs and fried ham. Instead of coffee, make some hot cider with cinnamon."
Still naked, I cooked breakfast. I noticed, as I worked, that she had brought along the belt she used on my ass the previous night.
I served her breakfast, but she would not allow me to sit. She retied my hands behind me, then said, "Here, kneel at my feet! We have to make sure everything is properly prepared."
She sampled all the food and approved. She ate, slowly, enjoying my perturbed look as I tried to read her intentions while my own breakfast cooled. Eventually, she took my fork and, in between bites of her own breakfast, fed me mine. Indeed, I was surprised at how dependent I could be on her, even to the point of food.
With breakfast done, I cleared the dishes. Then she said, "Well, darling, time to open our presents! Follow me, on your knees!"
In the living room, we took turns opening our gifts, as our old traditions dictated. In my case, however, she chose and opened my gifts as I remained naked and bound, watching her from my knees.
The last present had a tag on it reading from me to her. I had not seen it, and looked at her curiously.
"This is your contract of enslavement", she began. "It is not something I'm giving you, but rather something you will sign and give to me." She freed my hands, handed me the package, and said, ''Open it!"
Still kneeling naked at her feet, I opened the present. It was a rolled piece of parchment, skillfully calligraphed. With my heart pounding, I read it:
Contract of Enslavement
I, ________________, hereby submit myself, completely, unconditionally and of my own free will, to Suzanne _______________, as her absolute slave.
From this day forward, I shall remain her property, available to her to dispose of in any way that pleases her.
All my property, money, possessions and titles I assign to her.
My body shall remain her property. She may use, abuse, pleasure or torture me as she desires , whether it may be in mundane labor, serving her pleasure or receiving her punishment according to her whims of the moment. Indeed, if she wishes, she may subject me to the most severe torture, simply to idle away her time.
I shall be hers to train as she sees fit. I shall be subject to any rules of conduct and discipline she wishes to impose and consent in advance to any punishments she may inflict, even knowing that at the time such things are imposed upon me I may not be willing or able to endure them.
I forgive her now for any damages she may inflict upon me and agree to never hold her responsible for any ill effects I may suffer at her hands.
I further agree to serve anyone to whom she assigns me with the same devotion and under the same conditions under which I serve my Mistress.
Finally, I agree that should my Mistress tire of me, she may transfer my ownership to anyone she pleases, without warning, reason or consideration. Should this take place, I agree to serve and devote myself to my new owner with the same dedication I would give my Mistress. Should she find me utterly worthless, a failure even as a slave, she may dismiss me altogether by throwing me naked into the street, never to return.
I agree to, and swear to, all these conditions willingly, fully aware of all their implications, and I do so without coercion, motivated totally by my love and devotion to my wife and Mistress.
Signed,
X______________________
__/__/__
I finished reading the document to myself, then looked into my wife's eyes. Part of me felt fear--would I be looking into the eyes of a beast, seeking only my downfall? No. Her face shone with love and affection. I truly could have risen and thrown the contract into the fire; she would still love me.
Yet, there was a clear excitement visible, a fire in her eyes waiting to burst forth. Would the contract be stored away in a drawer, only to be acted upon at moments of boredom? Doubtful. She had a hunger to dominate me, to control me, in the midst of her love.
The document asked me to give her exactly what she wanted. Her hand held a pen--a new, expensive fountain pen, never used.
I rose, and took her into my arms. "I want to kiss you, one last time, as a free man, as your husband."
She rose and met my kiss. The passion we exchanged at that moment went beyond sex, beyond love. It was the intermingling of our souls. We both knew then, it would be the last act we would perform as equals.
I fell to my knees.
She handed me the contract again, and ordered me, "Read it aloud before you sign it."
I obeyed, putting my heart into each affirmation. A tear fell from my eye before I finished. Looking up at my wife, I noticed that she, also, had shed tears.
She handed me the pen.
For the last time as a free man, I looked into her eyes and said, "I love you, Sue." I then signed and dated the contract.
I handed it back to my wife, now my Mistress, along with the pen, then bent down and placed my lips on her toes, kissing them.
She told me to rise, but remain on my knees. She then surprised me with still one more present, "Your first as a slave!"
At her bidding, I opened it. It contained a leather collar, with the inscription, "I belong to Mistress Suzanne." There were rings about its circumference, and a locking buckle. She locked it about my neck, then pocketed the key.
The package also contained a leash and a pair of handcuffs. "We will be getting much more equipment for your training and discipline soon, but these are immediate necessities."
Moments later, my wrists were locked behind my back, and my collar had its leash attached, with my Mistress holding its other end. "Now, for the first time as a slave, you may pleasure your Mistress!"
My lips and tongue began their duty. Now, there was a much greater significance to my act. It was not a submissive whim on my part which I had agreed to perform, not even a willing acquiescence to a demand from the one I loved. Now, it was a required act, one which was my duty and responsibility. It was expected of me, a natural function, requiring neither appreciation nor even acknowledgement. It was simply the use of a slave. The most natural place in the world for me to be would, from now on, be on my knees, my wrists locked behind my back, my mouth buried in my Mistress' cunt.
My erection had returned earlier and was growing more rampant. Little more than a touch would set me off. Until this morning, that meant pleasure for me. When teased, stimulated and abused, I became more aroused, in expectation of a more dramatic climax, and in the anticipation caused by not knowing when and if it would arrive. Now, my cock was an enemy. It demanded attention which brought it into conflict with what was now my sole purpose--pleasing my Mistress. A part of me almost wanted to beg to be beaten as I served, until my erection vanished.
It was not necessary. Mistress came, then pushed me onto my back. The handcuffs hurt me in this position; I had to move my wrists awkwardly to one side to avoid laying on the cuffs.
She mounted my face. "Clean me!"
I opened my mouth as her pussy lowered upon it. I licked and sucked, drinking down her juice. She guided me with a word here, a tug of my hair there, until I had consumed all she had to give. Then, looking down into my eyes, she said, "I will allow you to come in my pussy, now. When you finish, you will clean me again with your mouth, sucking out all your come, and continue eating me until you bring me off again!"
Before the act began, I felt the wave of humiliation rush over me, knowing what I would have to do. Worse, the anticipation of the act aroused me further. But I also realized I was totally at her mercy. I could not remove my handcuffs, or even the collar, without the keys. Whether I was willing or not, I would obey.
It took me barely thirty seconds to come. It was intense, gloriously intense, my first orgasm as her slave, but it was still disappointingly quick.
In the midst of my afterglow, she rose off me and crawled back up over my face, straddling me, a few inches above me. She paused there a few seconds, giving me time to look into her pussy, wide open, and observe my come beginning to drip out. Then, looking down into my eyes, smiling, she slowly began to lower herself down onto my mouth.
My humiliation was renewed as I began tasting my come. Having just had my orgasm, the sexual element my own arousal would have contributed was, momentarily, gone. I knew it would return as my Mistress was brought to her orgasm again, but I would not be able to share in that pleasure. Helpless to resist, I served.
Needless to say, with her orgasm, my erection returned. I would not, however, be receiving another orgasm until it pleased Mistress to allow it.
She changed into some lingerie, for her own comfort and stimulation, as well as to keep me aroused. She changed outfits several times through the day, to further excite and tease me. Towards evening, she dressed in long black gloves, red fishnet stockings with elastic garters, and red high-heeled pumps, leaving the rest of her body naked.
She had moved my handcuffs to the front an hour or so after our morning session, to allow me to work. I cleaned the kitchen and bath, and did some laundry, including hand-washing her intimate garments. At one point, I unconsciously stroked my cock with a hand for a few seconds. Not even aware of my Mistress' presence, I was lashed, suddenly, by the belt.
"You're supposed to be serving my pleasure, not yours! As punishment, you will not come again until at least tomorrow night. What will you do if I don't allow you orgasm for days at a time? I'm going to have to find a way to control your cock!"
She took a long piece of rope and knotted the middle of it around my handcuffs. She then knotted it again around the ring at the front of my collar. My hands, now, could barely reach my navel. I would not be touching my cock.
The ropes passed over my shoulders, crossed behind my back, wrapped once, tightly, around my upper chest, somewhat constricting my breathing. Finally, the ends were knotted behind my shoulder blades.
She brought me to my knees and commanded, "Lick my asshole!" She pulled me firmly into her ass by my hair, not letting up the pressure until my tongue spent several minutes well inside her ass. Finally releasing my hair, she turned, and said, "Learn well, slave. That cock is now mine, not yours. You are not to touch it without my permission!"
"Yes, Mistress." I had been corrected.
It took me significantly longer to finish my assigned work with my limited mobility. When I had to bend over, I had to drop to my knees. With my wrists locked together, many tasks I took for granted suddenly got more complicated. Even the simple act of serving Mistress a drink on a tray grew risky, as I could only carry the tray from one side.
Worst of all, she would frequently call me to kneel between her thighs and serve her pleasure. Almost every hour on the hour, she would summon me, point to the floor between her legs and guide my tongue to her shoes, then higher. Indeed, her taste remained on my lips throughout the day and evening, and in spite of my morning orgasm, my cock and balls ached constantly.
Late that evening, with the house spotless, I knelt at her feet. I was exhausted and still aroused; she had not even had to remove her gloves. She still wore her stockings and pumps, her body exposed to my gaze. We talked openly.
"How do you feel, now that you are formally enslaved?"
I groaned in my arousal, my wrists still shackled and bound out reach of my cock. "I don't know if I'm in heaven or hell, but as much as I'm suffering, I don't want it to stop."
"Don't worry, my dear. It won't. I had no idea what paradise could be like until now. And I don't have any intention of ending it. There are, however, some problems we have to deal with."
"Mistress?"
"That cock of yours, for one thing. I can't have you leaving my sight in chains, but I also have to stop you from coming without permission. Tomorrow, we're going shopping. We'll get you a cock cage, and some other restraints for your cock. We'll need some leather shackles, as well as some other gear. We also have to get you some more appropriate clothes, for when I permit you to dress. Speaking of which, come with me!"
She rose abruptly and led me into the bedroom. Going through my drawers, she removed every single pair of my jockey shorts. "These will be totally unacceptable, under any circumstances. They must be thrown out, now!"
"But Mistress, what will I wear?"
"Tomorrow, you'll wear a pair of my panties. We'll buy you some things when we shop."
"Yes, Mistress."
I took all my underwear and put them into the trash. When I returned, Mistress was still sorting through my clothes.
"When you work, you'll need your ordinary work clothes. But when we go out, I prefer you in tighter pants, men's boots with higher heels, and sexier shirts.
"We're going to get a wardrobe cabinet for you, one with three separate lockable compartments. I'll hold the keys, of course. The first compartment will contain your slave garb, the items I'll allow you to wear when you serve me privately. The second compartment will have clothes permissible to wear on the street, but still pleasing to me. The third will have all your straight, conservative clothes. You will always dress only with my permission, and with what I permit you to wear. But the third compartment's clothes will always earn you a punishment, for dressing in a manner that does not please me."
It started occurring to me just how much of my life would be under her control. Now, I could only cover my body with her permission and with the clothes she selected. And unless I changed my approach to my work clothes, I would soon be earning punishments for improper dress every day.
I had wondered how she would prevent me from having orgasms when I was not with her. Now, her ominous promise of a "Cock cage" made it clear she had ways.
She gave me a pair of her panties and had me put them on. They caressed my aching erection in the softest possible material, totally transparent, and left my ass-cheeks bare as a thin ribbon passed up my posterior.
Preparing for bed, she removed my rope. She retied it, attaching my handcuffs to the headpost of the bed.
Leaving me there, she removed her clothes, then put on a pair of panties I had not seen; they were made of black glove-leather, trimmed with chrome studs, and hugged her pussy like a hand.
She sat astride my face and had me kiss and lick the leather panties. It aroused both of us greatly, as I moaned in my renewed frustration.
"Are you unhappy, my love?" I groaned again in response.
"You should appreciate my generosity, in letting you still have access to my bed. This may not always be true in the future--you may spend many nights on the floor, chained to the foot of the bed!"
She took my hair, and rubbed herself hard into my face, bringing herself off. Then, wordlessly, she got up and left the room. She returned minutes later with a nitecap. She removed her panties. The leather was now saturated with her juices. She placed them over my head, with the juiciest part of the leather directly over my nose and mouth. Then, kissing me on my cheek, she said, "Learn now, my love, what it really means to sleep with me." She put out the lights, and slept.
Once, an hour or so later, she straddled my face again in the dark, but did not sit on my face. She touched the moist leather covering my mouth with the fingertips of one hand, while masturbating herself with the other. Wordlessly, she had her orgasm, then got back under the covers. She traced one finger over my erection through her panties, causing me to moan deeply, then rolled over and went to sleep again.
I drank in her scent all night, and my cock and balls ached until morning.
12/26
I awoke again to her thighs around my face. The leather panties still covered my mouth, preventing me from giving her the tonguing she should have had. She brought herself off quickly once, then removed the panties, exposing my face. She lowered herself again, now directly onto my lips and tongue, where I sucked her to another orgasm, then cleaned her. Only then did she deem it proper to speak to me.
"Good morning, slave! Today, we go shopping for your training equipment, and for your first slave garb. Come, shower with me."
Ny handcuffs were moved to behind my back, and she hooked a leash to my collar. She led me to the bathroom, where she stood me in the shower and washed me, as I remained handcuffed.
She had me give her a brief tongue-bath, and only then did she release my hands so I could wash her properly. There was an unspoken command for me to not touch my cock--I obeyed, although it still pulsed painfully in arousal, and my balls felt like lead weights.
We dressed. She supplied me with another of her panties. This time, they were fishnet panties, which would abrade my cock-flesh all day and leave me effectively naked if I had to remove my pants. Tight jeans, boots and a pullover shirt completed my costume for the day.
She dressed in a short leather skirt, a sheer red blouse and her red pumps. She chose to do without underwear, altogether.
My collar was removed; then, on a whim, she dashed to the bathroom and returned with some panties she had worn the previous day. She passed them under my nose, and I acknowledged the fact that they still bore her scent. She thrust them under her skirt and into her pussy, wiping up as much juice as possible. Then, she put my head through the leg holes, dropping them around my neck. "To remember me by, while we're out."
"Thank you, Mistress."
"We're ready to go. Kneel, and thank me properly!"
I knelt. Right behind our front door, I licked her to orgasm, for perhaps the third or fourth time in the two hours we'd been awake. We left the house with her satisfied and me in frustrated agony, my face bathed in her juice.
The "Combat Zone" was first. She led me in boldly, moving straight to the leather toys. She found a female employee to help us with our purchases. "First and foremost, we need a locking cock-cage."
The girl smiled, understanding. She showed us several models. "This one with the rings is best for outdoor wear. It leaves most of his cock meat exposed, and separates the balls, but the rings will make any erection quite painful. As an alternative, this other one is like a leather jockstrap, with a screen at the bottom to allow him to piss."
She spoke to my Mistress, knowing my feelings were irrelevant.
"We'll take one of each."
"Would you like to see some other cock-restraints?"
"Yes."
Mistress picked out a series of ball-stretchers, ranging from one to three inches long. There was a parachute, lined with needlepoints, as well as several cock-rings.
"Before we continue, I want his cock locked up in the cage. Could you assist?"
"Certainly!"
We followed her into a side room. My pants were quickly dropped, exposing my fishnet panties.
"My, they're cute!"
The humiliation caused my erection to vanish. The cock-cage was mounted in seconds, and Mistress put the key on her chain.
"I want to try it out. Could you do with a bit of pleasure? He's really good, for a novice slave."
"Why, that would be quite kind of you!"
I was not consulted. My pants and panties around my ankles, I knelt. The girl raised her skirt and pulled aside her scant panties. I buried my face in her pussy and licked her to a quick orgasm.
"Clean her, slave!"
My tongue obeyed, until all her juice was properly swallowed. My erection returned, or tried to. The rings dug harshly into my cock-meat, painfully, causing the veins to bulge out.
"Yes, I think I like that cock-cage! That should keep him under control"
"I guarantee it. Orgasm is impossible as long as it's locked in place."
"OK, slave. Pull up your pants; we have to get some restraints!" I followed them into the main store again.
We bought leather shackles for wrists, elbows, ankles and knees. There were adjustable spreader bars for knees and ankles, a waist-belt with rings, and a forearm sheath. Then, we started looking at some special purpose items.
Mistress selected a harness which was essentially a collar with two straps attached which would buckle around her upper thighs. This would present my face in a perfect position to perform cunnilingus and keep me in place. At the girl's suggestion, Mistress also looked at a rubber device with the same function. Called either a "Pussy Mask" or the "Mistress Pants", it consisted of a rubber helmet which buckled around the throat of the slave, connected to a tight pair of short pants. The connection brought the slave's mouth forcefully into contact with the Mistress' cunt. Needless to say, the item sold itself.
There was a wrist-to-neck harness. This had a collar connected by an adjustable strap to a single leather band which buckled around both wrists, holding them together behind the back in a double hammerlock. By tightening the strap, the wrists could be drawn up as high as desired.
The girl asked my Mistress, "Are you going to train his asshole?"
"How so?"
"We have a large selection of dildos. Perhaps a series of butt-plugs, with a harness to lock them in."
Mistress selected three butt-plugs. Realistic, shaped just like the real thing, they were relatively short. But I was nervous--the smallest was just under an inch in diameter, while the others were significantly larger. I was visibly nervous at these additions to a rapidly growing armory of weapons, and Mistress saw it in my eyes.
"I think he likes the idea of being ass-fucked. I'd like to look at some full-sized dildos I can use on him myself."
Several were selected, along with a harness Mistress could use to hold them when she wished to fuck me. The girl then suggested some gags. "He might be noisy at first, when you take his maidenhead. Perhaps you'd like to silence him."
Mistress selected a ball-gag, then looked at some other options. One was a penis-gag, which forced a realistic rubber phallus into the slave's mouth. There was another penis-gag which had a tube running through its center.
"That's a feeder-gag. It comes with a plastic bag, a connector tube and a flow control valve. You fill the bag up with whatever you want the slave to drink. Then, you open the valve slowly, until you get the rate of flow you want."
"What do you fill the bag with?"
The girl smiled, then pulled Mistress aside, talking privately for a couple of minutes. The smile on Mistress' face at the conclusion of this exchange worried me intensely. She bought the feeder-gag.
"Sometimes you may want to fuck, but you have your slave under discipline. Here's an item that works well to please you and punish him at the same time." It was essentially another penis-gag, but this one had another dildo extending out its front, some six inches long. She could ride the larger dildo while I sucked on the smaller one. Thinking about it, my cock pulsed painfully in its cage. Needless to say, we added it to our collection.
We picked out another set of handcuffs and a pair of leg-irons, then added several sets of nipple-clamps.
"You'll need to beat him from time to time. Would you like to look at some whips?"
"Yes, certainly." The smile on her face suddenly left me feeling quite vulnerable. She picked out a riding crop, a quirt, a cat-o-nine tails, a buggy whip and two paddles--one long one with studs on one side, and a cracking paddle.
There were discipline helmets available. Most had numerous straps that could tighten them around the face of the slave, as well as lockable collars, optional gags and blindfolds. They had rings attached at strategic locations to totally immobilize the slave. She bought one in rubber, one in leather.
"If you like the helmets, you might like to look at this..."
The girl showed us some merry widow corsets which had some adjustable straps attached, two at the front and one at the rear. She showed us how they could be attached to the helmets to draw the face of the slave into the Mistress' cunt. Again, we bought one in rubber, one in leather.
Mistress asked, "What if I'd like to wear a dildo myself?"
The girl showed us a harness which could hold both vaginal and anal dildos, as well as several attachments to stimulate her clitoris. It was purchased, along with a selection of dildos to fit it.
"I'm too horny to keep this up without relief. Can we use the back room?"
"Certainly."
After whispering some words to the girl, she pulled me into the room. She brought me to my knees after having me lower my pants. My cock was in pain--the last thing I wanted was more stimulation. Unfortunately, the girl entered at that point with some of the toys we had selected.
"Do his ass first!"
To my chagrin, the girl handcuffed my hands behind me, then inserted the smallest butt-plug into my ass and locked on the harness, handing the key to my Mistress. Next, she assisted Mistress in burying a medium-sized dildo in her cunt, then fastened her harness in place. Mistress looked at me, pointed at her cunt, and said, "Lick!"
With the girl watching, I crawled to my Mistress and serviced her. The plug in my ass was torturous, stimulating me and humiliating me at the same time. With the addition of the handcuffs and being forced to eat my Mistress' pussy before an onlooker, I was in an agony of frustration. Still, I served her pleasure, bringing her to several intense orgasms in about ten minutes.
When Mistress finished, she offered me to the girl again--"Would you like some more?"
"Certainly!"
Again, I was given away. Mistress reinforced her ownership of me by giving me away at will.
Eventually, they were both satisfied. I was allowed to rise and found out that simply walking was going to be a challenge. Stimulating for both of us, the dildos did their work unceasingly. However, while Mistress would get pleasure, I would be kept in constant pain by the cock-cage as it punished my unwanted erection.
Done with our selections, we wrote out a sizeable check and prepared to leave. The girl was offered a future dinner at our place, and accepted.
I was made to load the purchases into the car, making several trips, as Mistress walked with me, enjoying my efforts. My butt-plug was making my cock pulse painfully in its cage on every step. The agony showed occasionally on my face, which entertained my Mistress as she enjoyed the stimulation of her own dildo. I suspected her arousal would mean more trouble for me as the day wore on.
We went clothes-shopping next. There was a lingerie shop which featured clothing for both sexes. Mistress picked out an assortment of items for me, including posing pouches, articles made partially or totally of mesh which would expose me completely, and some T-backs, which had only a narrow strip of fabric in behind, leaving my ass-cheeks naked. She allowed me no choice in these selections, making it clear to the salesgirl that she was in command as my Mistress. Then, things went from bad to worse, as she picked out some stockings, garter belts and women's panties, obviously intended for my use. She even demanded I try on some of these, modeling them for both the salesgirl and my Mistress, revealing my cockcage and plug harness. Even worse, Mistress made it clear that the items were to be fitted over my cock-cage, indicating that I would be wearing it most of the time.
As Mistress picked out a few more things for herself, she made it clear that I could be available for the girl's use if she desired. She declined, but accepted our phone number for a future raincheck on the offer.
When we left, I was wearing stockings and a garter belt under my pants. Every step I took, I could feel the tops of the stockings squeezing my legs and pulling on the garter belt. Adding that to the intense stimulation of my butt-plug, I was being severely stimulated. My cock was in agony.
The next stop was a hardware store. I was momentarily relieved, thinking we would be purchasing more mundane items. My relief was short-lived, however, as Mistress immediately started looking at rope.
We bought a large quantity of rope, in many sizes and types. Most of it was nylon or cotton, which would be relatively merciful to my flesh. But she also selected some harsh sisal rope, which would mark on contact. There were several varieties of pulleys, along with some block and tackle assemblies. Next, she picked out some eyebolts. There were dozens of shapes and sizes, and she bought at least a hundred of them. Clearly, she wanted to be able to attach me anywhere in the house.
There was chain, naturally. Numerous lengths and weights, she gave precise instructions on cutting it to her specifications.
There were the wardrobe cabinets. Three small ones, as promised, all lockable. Now, Mistress would have complete control over my use of clothes.
Last but not least, there were the padlocks. She selected perhaps two dozen, in various types and sizes. She made sure they were common-keyed, so one key could open all of a given type. While she gave me the locks to carry, along with all the other gear, she carefully put the keys in her own purse.
The check was written, the car loaded, again with me carrying everything out unassisted. We had spent enough money to cut our bank account in half and acquired enough equipment to restrain a busload of slaves, so I was shocked to hear Mistress announce yet one more stop.
It was a pet store. Unknown to me, Mistress knew the female owner, and had called ahead to warn her of our visit. As we walked in, the owner greeted us.
"Hi, Sue! It's good to see you!"
"I'm glad to be here. Have you looked into what I asked you about?"
"Yes. We'll have to take some measurements, but I'm sure we can find an exact fit."
She closed and locked the front door, putting out the "Closed" sign. We followed her into the back room, where Mistress shocked me by producing the handcuffs.
"Turn around, and give me your wrists!"
I obeyed almost automatically; seconds later, my wrists were locked behind my back.
"Now, kneel down, and lower your head to your knees!"
Again, I obeyed. I heard the shopkeeper walk around me, then she started measuring my kneeling form with a yardstick. My curiosity and fear were both growing rapidly.
"Yes, I think I have one that would be perfect. A bit tight, perhaps, but considering your intentions, that should be no problem."
"It would be just fine. It will be lockable, right?"
"Yes."
She went to a storage area, and returned with a large, metal object. She took a moment to unfold it and set it up, and we were confronted with a small cage. It was designed as a dog kennel, but in this case, I would be the dog. The door to the cage was opened.
"Crawl inside, slave; ass first!"
I reddened with humiliation as I backed into the cage. It was practically a press-fit, leaving barely enough room to breathe, let alone move. It was made of chromed bars, and it would leave me totally exposed inside. I noticed a ring at the top, by which it could be suspended. Mistress closed the door, then applied a padlock, locking me inside. The owner offered, "Coffee?"
"Of course." Then, after a pause, "Damn it, I forgot!"
"What did you forget?"
"Well, look at him! Can't you figure it out?"
"His clothes! He still has his clothes on!"
"I must be sure not to make that mistake again. He really looks silly in there, dressed in street clothes..."
They went on for some time, discussing my enslavement in explicit detail. A note of my cock-cage and butt-plug, as well as my female undergarments, was found entertaining. As their talk progressed, they quickly became aroused, then started touching. After several minutes of hot petting, all under my starving eyes, the owner said, "I'm too horny! I've just got to eat you!"
Smiling, Mistress walked over to the cage. She lifted her skirt, and sat on the edge of the cage, directly over my head. I could smell her arousal. Her dildo was still in place, buried in her cunt, held in by the harness. As she sat, she pumped up and down, gently.
The shop-owner knelt directly in front of me, and began servicing Mistress' clitoris with her tongue. A pang of jealousy swept through me, a feeling that the woman had usurped my role. But I was quickly distracted upon realizing the girl had shed her clothes and her breasts were pressed into the cage bars inches in front of my face. I couldn't move my head to the right angle to even lick them, but had to simply look as they hung, just out of reach of my tongue.
Mistress achieved her orgasm quickly, then invited the girl to take her position. She sat on the cage, her naked ass cheeks now directly above me. Mistress unstrapped her dildo and, as the girl leaned back, used it to fuck the girl to a quick orgasm.
They finished soon, whereupon Mistress remounted her dildo and its harness. They resumed their clothes, and Mistress suggested, "How about an afternoon snack?"
"Fine by me. There's a deli across the street that has the best bagels in town. But what about your, er, pet?"
''True. We can't have him in that cage, clothes and all, until we get back."
Mistress unlocked my cage, ordered me out, and removed my handcuffs.
She then ordered, ''Strip!"
She caught me totally off guard, as I expected to accompany them. I removed my clothes, and the shop owner locked them away in a storage closet. My handcuffs were replaced, then Mistress ordered, "Now, back in your cage!"
Totally humiliated, I again backed into the cage, now totally naked, as the two of them laughed at my predicament. The girl was fascinated by both my cock-cage and my butt-plug, and could not resist giving my plug a push through the bars of the cage after I was again locked in. The cage forced my ass firmly against the bars, leaving the plug quite accessible. I groaned loudly as I felt the plug shoved deeper into my ass. They laughed again, then put out the lights and walked out.
I was suddenly alone. I heard the door slam shut, and I could not even tell if it was locked. Naked, helpless, I had no way of knowing if anyone else would enter the store and find me. Nor could I know how long I would remain where I was. My cock still ached in its cage; my ass was still penetrated, which made my cock pulse even more often in its cage. My hands were locked behind me, leaving them unavailable to me to even scratch an itch, much less cover myself. My knees soon hurt, as they bore most of my weight upon the bars of the floor of the cage. Worst of all, I could feel the slight breeze of the ventilation system over my entire body, reminding me constantly of my exposure and helplessness.
Needless to say, when they returned, perhaps a good hour or two later, I was ready to do anything to be released. I was shocked to hear several voices outside the room. Would they involve more people in my humiliation? Was my Mistress even among them?
To my relief, Mistress showed her face just as the owner bid good-bye to her visitors. Mistress awaited her return before finally freeing me from the cage. My handcuffs remained in place, and I was told to remain on my knees.
"Would you like to use him, before we leave?"
"Why, thank you! That would be nice of you!"
As I knelt in my bonds, she strode over to me, raised her skirt and pulled my face into her pussy by the hair. I used my mouth on her effectively, bringing her to orgasm in a few minutes. A short time later, my wrists were freed, I was dressed, the cage was folded and locked into the car, and we were heading home.
Just before we hit the highway, Mistress ordered, "Open your pants!"
She then lowered my underwear, exposing my caged cock. She handcuffed my hands behind me again, then fastened my seatbelt. As she drove on into the traffic, she said, "That's nice. I like having you available anywhere, anytime I want." She then reached over and, as she steered with her left hand, used one finger of her right hand to tease the head of my cock through the rings of its cage. She repeated the action from time to time and occasionally alternated the teasing with a firm squeeze on my painfully swollen balls. The moans of pain I uttered when she did this clearly entertained her, as I heard her breathing change each time.
Once, as we approached the house, my cock dripped a bit of pre-come onto her fingertip. Displeased, she simply looked at me and said, "Sloppy! Clean that off!" She thrust the finger into my mouth, and I licked it clean. She then resumed her teasing.
We pulled into the garage. Once inside, she had me strip immediately, before even entering the house. She 'Dressed" me then in a pair of crotchless pantyhose and some opera pumps with five-inch heels. Wrist and ankle shackles followed, each joined with about a foot and a half of heavy chain, padlocked. A three inch wide stiff collar completed my uniform, along with a penis-gag. Mistress enforced discipline with a quirt until all the equipment and supplies were put away.
For the next two hours, we went through the entire house and mounted eyebolts nearly everywhere. In the ceiling in every room, at the four corners of every doorway, at numerous places on the bedframe, at various heights and positions on many walls, even in the bathroom, including some directly in front of the toilet; by the time we finished, she would be able to fasten me instantly throughout the house without my having to walk or crawl more than two paces.
Finally done, she instructed me to prepare dinner. "When you finish, we'll eat together, normally. Your restraints will be freed, except for your cock-cage, naturally, and we'll talk freely. Until then, you remain gagged and in chains. If the dinner is not satisfactory, you'll be punished. Who knows, perhaps you'll be denied your orgasm again tonight!"
I shuddered. I hadn't come since the previous morning, and I'd been erect, painfully so while cock-caged, most of the time since then. I cooked carefully, but still had to guess at the spice-balance, not being able to taste the food.
Fortunately, she was pleased with dinner. My gag was removed, as were all my restraints. The butt-plug was the last to go, and I cleaned it by mouth as ordered. I was also allowed to remove the pantyhose and opera pumps, and even to wear a bathrobe.
We sat down to eat, and she opened the conversation immediately.
"Well, tell me your thoughts. Speak freely, as you'd like."
"There is so much to say, where do I begin?"
"As simply my husband. You've gotten a taste of slavery. You've served my pleasure, and done the housework. You've been punished, restrained, exposed, used by other women at my command, teased unmercifully, and you currently have been denied orgasm for a day and a half. After the new year, there will be no turning back. In fact, although it will not always be this intense, it will get progressively worse for you as time goes on. How do you feel?"
"To be honest, everything you've done to me has been making me as horny as hell. I feel like I could come five times a day and still be ready for more. And every time you treat me cruelly, I feel like I love you still more. Every time you degrade me, I want to worship you. Its different, something I don't fully understand, but the further we go, the more I want."
"Now, that sounds promising. Go on."
"The pain is terrible when you hurt me. Still, before it happens, I feel secure in my helplessness. After, I want to cry on your shoulder and beg forgiveness, hoping I have expiated my sins. I feel better than I've felt in years."
"Suppose I were to cut back even further on your orgasms?"
"It would be your right."
"Obviously. But how would you feel?"
"Right now, my cock aches, my balls feel like they weigh ten pounds apiece, and I want nothing in this world more than to please you, so that I could earn the right to come. If I displeased you, I would not feel right about having an orgasm. And the thought of it all excites me as much as anything, except, perhaps, when I eat you. That arouses me more than anything else, especially when you demand it or force it from me."
She smiled. "That's excellent. Believe me, you'll be experiencing that feeling frequently, every day. But tell me, what's it like when I force-feed you your own come?"
It occurred to me, I had only come once or twice so far, since we started my enslavement. ''It was strange, unexpected. Humiliating, as well. It showed me how much you controlled me, and made me feel like even more of a slave. I would never willingly ask for it, but it had an effect on me that I found very fulfilling, like a natural progression."
"Good. I'm considering making it a rule that you eat your come every time you have an orgasm. Would you like that?"
I thought a bit. " 'Like' it? I'd have to say no. Enjoyment isn't the right concept. But somehow, this scene wouldn't feel complete without it. It makes sense, on its own terms."
"I'm glad you see it that way, because it will be the rule from now on."
My cock pulsed, painfully. "It almost feels like a connection exists now, from my cock to my mouth. And my cock likes it."
We ate silently for a moment. Then, she said, "Yesterday morning, I took my morning piss, then sat on your face. It turned you on to taste me that way, didn't it?"
I nodded, in agreement.
"Would you drink my piss?"
A wave of feelings crushed me like a rock. The thought alone was far more humiliating and degrading than anything we had done or discussed. Again, my cock swelled painfully against its confining rings. "I don't understand it, its something that seems totally out of my league. Yet, I feel like I'll submit to it if you require it of me."
"I think we might experiment with something along those lines, after dinner."
I shuddered in both fear and excitement, helpless to stop her desires. And strangely, I did not want to.
She switched my chastity device. After removing my robe and handcuffing my hands behind me, she removed the cock-cage which was chafing me severely. She replaced it with the full chastity belt, the one which resembled a stiff leather jock-strap. It was equipped with a mesh screen at a strategic location which allowed me to piss through it, although I'd have to sit down to do so. The small butt-plug was also included, to my dismay, which immediately renewed my erection. I noted, with some concern, that when I became erect, the mesh pressed painfully into my cock-head, punishing my erection.
She put on a pair of cotton panties and rubbed them thoroughly into her cunt-slit, absorbing her juices. We went into the bathroom, where she sat on the toilet, and pissed, right through the panties. I knelt before her, watching, in fearful anticipation.
She stood and removed the panties, inches in front of me.
"Clean me!"
Still handcuffed, I extended my tongue. Now, her piss was the predominant taste. I turned several deeper shades of red, humiliated. She came to a quick orgasm. Then, she commanded, "Now, beg me to put my wet panties in your mouth!"
The humiliation was at a record high, as she now required me to beg for my own degradation. I obeyed.
"Please, Mistress, put your wet panties in my mouth."
I noted, with amazement, the intensity of the waves of humiliation passing through me. Even more amazing, the waves all ended in my cock, now fully erect and being tortured by the chastity belt.
"Open!"
I opened my mouth, and she thrust in the panties. The shock of the taste was intense, ultimately humiliating. The panties were thicker than the sheer lace she usually wore. They would hold more of her juice, or her piss, and hold it longer. She took some time to make sure they were entirely contained in my mouth. "Close!"
I closed my mouth. She stood off to one side, watching me closely in my reactions. She asked, almost playfully, "Taste good, dear?" I only moaned, and turned a deeper shade of red.
"Hold position until I return!"
She left the bathroom, and I remained kneeling. I lowered my head, in shame, to find myself looking directly into the toilet, which she had not yet flushed.
She returned with a cock-gag. Seconds later, it was locked into my mouth. Combined with her wet panties, my mouth was totally full. I would not even be able to swallow.
We went into the kitchen, where my shackles and collar were replaced, complete with chains.
"The gag comes out when the kitchen is spotless!" She turned and walked out of the room.
It took over half an hour to wash and put away the dishes and cooking utensils, and it became almost a full hour by the time I finished wiping down the table, stove, appliances, walls, and mopped the floor.
I reported to the living room, where Mistress was watching TV. I simply walked to where she sat, whereupon she became angry.
"Is this the way you greet your Mistress? Get me your waist belt, two short chains, four padlocks and the cat-o-nine tails. And while you're at it, get that cock-gag, the one that has the large dildo in front. Quickly!"
I ran and got the required items. At the door, I paused, waiting. She commanded, "Kneel, and crawl to me properly!"
I crawled to her feet. She removed my cock-gag, and replaced it with the one with the attached dildo. She then put my waist belt on me and connected my ankle shackles to it with the short chains and padlocks. I would remain on my knees, now. Finally, she locked my wrist shackles behind me.
"Now, slave, bend all the way over, your cheek to the floor, and show me your ass!"
I was going to be punished. The first stroke of the cat was quite painful, at least as much as the wide belt. There was something different, however, about the cat-o-nine tails. The belt was an article of clothing, something that was normally worn for a mundane reason, but which could be employed, if desired, to punish me. The cat-o-nine tails, however, had no alternative purpose. It was made, purchased, and now used, with only one purpose in mind, that of welting my ass. So my punishment with the cat was not just a whim, but was part of a pattern of calculated action, to which we committed ourselves with its purchase. Now, my pain fulfilled the purpose, and for only the first of many times. As I groaned in pain, it occurred to me that the cat was well-crafted and would probably provide years of dependable service.
For a dozen strokes, I suffered. Finally, she allowed me to raise my head and kneel upright. "I'll bet that aroused you as much as it did me! I can see you've got a raging hard-on, and would love to fuck!"
I groaned inwardly. The pain made my erection vanish, but I knew it would return soon. Then, I realized. She was not referring to my cock.
"Wouldn't you love to fuck me right now?"
She had put on a leather merry widow, stockings and boots. Her pussy was exposed and open. She put her hand on the dildo extending from my gag and started stroking it, sensuously. I groaned in frustration, as I felt her strokes also moving the smaller rubber cock in my mouth.
"C'mon, lover. I want that big cock inside me, right now!"
She took me by the hair and pulled me over to a nearby hassock. She bent me over it backwards until I was lying on it on my arched back, my knees still on the floor, my face upwards. She straddled me and masturbated for a moment, enjoying her already well-lubricated cunt. Her smell permeated the room, and I felt myself anticipating her taste.
Then, it hit me. The cock-gag still held her piss-soaked panties in my mouth. Her taste was still there, prominently. And I would enjoy only that acrid taste, not the one I desired.
She mounted the dildo. Slowly, in one long stroke, she buried it in her cunt, until her pubic hair covered my nose. I noted that the force of her stroke also had the effect of driving the cock-gag deeper into my mouth, as well as pushing on her wet panties.
She began stroking. Each down-stroke landed hard on my face and drove the cock-gag clear to the back of my throat. She was approaching orgasm quickly, as I was being mouth-fucked by the rubber cock. But the odors frustrated me the most. They attacked my most basic biological urges, making my erection torture itself. My mouth needed to drink her juice. Yet, all I would get was a rubber cock in my mouth and her piss-soaked panties to taste.
She came violently, almost bruising my face in the process. I began to appreciate the feeling of gagging on a driving cock going too deeply into the mouth. My face was drenched in her juices. Eventually, she returned to her couch. I crawled to her, forced by my restraints to remain kneeling, and took position at her feet. The dildo still protruded obscenely from my cock-gag, and now it bore her juices. My ass remained plugged, my limbs remained locked in their restraints.
For nearly an hour, Mistress watched TV. She eventually unlocked my wrists and ordered me to fetch her a drink, and I complied, on my knees throughout, straining to reach for a glass. The gag remained in place almost three hours before she finally unlocked it and allowed me to lick it clean and put it away.
Finally, we went to the bedroom.
I knelt, mouth empty, chains removed, handcuffed at her feet. Before opening discussion with me she had me lick her boots for a good fifteen or twenty minutes. Eventually she said, "I'm giving you a choice. You may come tonight, but I don't want to spoil you. So, if you choose to come, you will not sleep in my bed. Choose!"
It took me almost a full second to decide. "Please, Mistress, I'll go nuts if I don't come soon. Whatever the price, I'll pay it. I've got to come tonight!"
Shaking her head in mock pity, she said, "Poor dear. What's my slave going to do when he's only allowed to come once every week or two? Well, I guess you'll be in training for some time yet. Stand!"
She removed my chastity belt. She then applied the two-inch ball stretcher. This had the effect of painfully pulling my balls out, nearly crushing them, as if they had ten pounds of weight hanging from them. "Can't have you enjoying yourself too much, slave." She then re-installed my butt-plug, locking on its harness. Now, my erection thrust out desperately.
She chained me spread-eagled on the bed, my legs spread painfully wide, pillows under my ass. Then she took a leather thong and tied it to the ring on my ball-stretcher. She took the other end and, standing at the foot of the bed, pulled.
I groaned loudly, in pain. With a sharp tug, it felt like she could tear my balls from my body.
She tied the thong to the foot of the bed. Testing the tension, she untied it, then retied it a bit tighter. She next went to her dresser and came back with a pencil.
"I love it when your balls are so big and tight. They just look so full, it gets me juicing just to see them that way! Wouldn't you love to empty them, my dear?"
I groaned loudly enough to be heard outside. "Oh God, yes, Mistress!"
She took the pencil and began tracing lines on my balls and poking gently. I continued to groan loudly in pain.
She lightly tapped my balls with the pencil, then began repeating the tap, slowly increasing the force of each blow. I cried out.
"I wonder, if I stretched them tight enough, could I make them pop this way?"
"Please, Mistress, have mercy!"
She laughed, then after a few more painful whacks, tossed the pencil away and stood on the bed. I noticed that as she shifted her weight, the tension on the thong and on my balls changed accordingly.
Slowly, she moved up the bed, straddling my body, sometimes using her heels to jab at my tightly stretched flesh. As she moved, the tension on my already tightly stretched balls increased dramatically. The pillows under my ass kept me arched and vulnerable. Eventually, she stood astride my head, her feet clamped to the sides of my face.
She picked up her right foot and thrust her heel into my mouth. "Worship it, suck-slave!" I sucked her heel almost like a cock, as she thrust it in and out of my mouth. She then brought the sole of her boot to my mouth, and commanded, "Lick!"
I licked, until she removed it. Looking up into her open pussy, which I knew would soon ride my face, I similarly serviced her other boot.
She slowly lowered herself, until her cunt was inches above my mouth. "Serve me well, slave, or you might spend the night bound as you are, without an orgasm!"
Never in my life was I more careful, more devoted, more attentive to every detail of her pleasure. I licked using everything I knew to enhance her enjoyment, sometimes focusing on her clit, sometimes thrusting into her vagina, sometimes sucking hard on whatever part of her she forced into my mouth. Thankfully, over the next twenty or thirty minutes, I brought her to several massive orgasms.
She slowly moved down to my cock. Ever so slowly, she dropped down, until just the head entered her pussy.
"C'mon, slave, fuck me!"
Her weight changed the tension on the thong, pulling hard on my balls. I tried to thrust upward, but with my bonds pulling so tightly on my wrists and ankles, I could barely move an inch. With my balls stretched, that inch was agony.
She admonished me with, "If that's all you can do, we might have to forget it!", then she rose from the bed and left the room. I howled in both frustration and agony, as the pressure on my balls increased severely with her rising.
Moments later, she returned, with two nipple clamps and the cat-o-nine tails. She climbed on the bed again. then attached the clamps to my nipples. I cried out from the pain. "Now, you'll be properly motivated."
With her weight again on my hips, the pressure on my balls was lessened somewhat. But she reached back and took up more slack from the thong, tightening my balls still more. Now, if she got up, I would feel real agony from the ball stretcher. "If you don't want me to leave again, you'd better show some effort!"
She mounted my cock, this time taking about two inches inside her. I thrust madly at her, with all my strength, crying out in pain on every stroke.
"That's better, horsey! Giddyup!" With that, she dropped down full on my cock, burying it. She also swung at my clamped chest with the cat.
In spite of my pain, my cock remained erect, even got harder, as I quickly neared my orgasm. I screamed, nearly in tears, under the whip, the clamps, the butt-plug, the ball stretcher and my restraints.
"Now you're doing it!" She bounced hard on my cock now, but would not let up on her demands for me to move properly for her. I was sure my balls would be torn off, and her cat-o-nine tails was landing regularly on my chest now, between my nipple clamps.
As close as I was to orgasm, the ball stretcher was acting to prevent my balls from rising, as they usually did when I was about to come. For a good ten minutes, I was afraid I would lose my erection to the pain before I could come and be denied relief again. In the meantime, Mistress continued riding my cock and abusing me.
"I can believe how full your balls must be. After all, you've got almost two days worth of come in them! You'll see, if you can come, when you get to suck it all out of my cunt later. Don't worry, though. I'm going to ride you until you come, if it takes all night. And all your restraints will remain in place until you suck me clean and bring me off again with your mouth!"
That did it. I shot my load so powerfully, it felt like my entire body was emptying itself into her. I bounced and bucked on the bed, in spite of my restraints, nearly throwing my Mistress off of me. She came as well, as we both screamed loudly: her in pleasure, and me in both pleasure and intense pain.
Finally, she collapsed on top of me, totally spent. I, also, was spent, but with my orgasm finished, my pain returned. Worse, as she laid on my chest, she pushed the clothespins on my nipples to either side, reawakening my pain. Worst of all, with her weight shifting off my hips, my body rose, causing the tension on my balls to be increased dramatically. The pain increased further when, several minutes later, Mistress rose and crawled up the bed to straddle my face for her cleaning. With her weight gone, my hips rose almost six inches. With the thong on my ball stretcher still attached to the foot of the bed, my balls took up most of the slack.
She knelt astride me, allowing me to see the beginning of the load I would soon be swallowing and anticipate my degradation. After a brief moment, she slowly lowered herself onto my mouth.
There was no escape. My renewed pain acted as a motivator for me to seek out my own humiliation. I opened my mouth, extended my tongue and began eating my come out of her pussy. Soon, the taste of her natural juice returned, as she again began the long journey towards another orgasm. With my own orgasm so recently passed, I was drained of energy; still, I was in substantial pain, and I could only gain relief by eating her to orgasm yet again. It took close to twenty minutes of strenuous effort, but she finally came, powerfully, on my face. She bounced roughly on me, shaking the bed, threatening to tear my tortured balls from my body, but my efforts succeeded as she flooded my mouth once again.
I groaned in pain as the nipple clamps were removed. When she finally removed the ball stretcher, I screamed. I shuddered to think this was only the two-inch size. When the three inch stretcher was applied, the pain would be worse.
My handcuffs were fastened behind my back and leg-irons applied. She put my jock-strap chastity belt on me, and included, to my dismay, the butt-plug. Indeed, not long after she installed the plug, my erection returned.
She left me on the bed. Using a padlock, she connected my handcuffs to the short chain of my leg-irons, hogtying me. She then buckled the harness around my neck which included the thigh straps for her. As I opened my mouth considering a protest, she thrust in my cock-gag.
She walked out of the room, returning several minutes later with a snack, a drink and some reading material. Seating herself at the head of the bed, she buckled the straps around her thighs, which brought my gagged mouth against her cunt. My erection returned fully, now. It would get no relief until at least tomorrow night.
"Its time to talk again. You'll have nothing to say, so you'll suck on that rubber cock and listen while I talk, and you can enjoy the smell of my pussy." I moaned.
"You'll be returning to work tomorrow, so you'll have to know the ground rules. In the morning, I will wake you and set you up for our morning cunt-lapping session. You'll be wearing your cock cage to work from now on, and I'll switch you into it before we do anything.
"I'll be waking you earlier, so you can give me at least half an hour with your tongue before preparing breakfast. You'll eat on your knees, at my feet. I'll select your clothes for the day while you shower, then you'll eat me once more briefly at the front door.
"Now listen carefully. When you come home, you'll remove all your male clothes immediately, right inside the door. I may leave written instructions, or garments for you to put on, or restraints. When you've attired yourself properly and followed any written instructions, you will drop to your knees and then find me wherever I am in the house, remaining on your knees as you search. You will present yourself by kissing my feet, or if you're gagged, pressing your face to my toes.
"This will be a rehersal, just a dry-run. Starting New Year's Day, I'll be finalizing all the rules.
"One more thing: on Fridays, you will not be allowed to come. Other days will depend on your conduct as a slave, as well as my own whims of the moment, but Fridays you will never be allowed to come again, irregardless of your service. As time passes, we may cut back further on your orgasms--I'm anticipating three or four days a week that you'll be denied, within a few weeks. But for now, you'll start with just Fridays. Also, Friday will be your official punishment night. Irregardless of your conduct, you'll always recieve a caning, perhaps a dozen strokes, as a 'Slave Whipping'. Following that, you'll recieve any other scheduled punishments for violations.
"We'll be using a demerit system eventually, to regulate your punishments. For example, failing to address me as 'Mistress' might earn you two demerits. You could pay off each demerit with, say, half a dozen with the crop or cane, or twenty or thirty minutes in puntative bondage. Five demerits might cost you an extra twenty-four hours without an orgasm, or wearing a butt-plug to work. I'll work out the details as time goes on.
"There's going to be a formal training program, as well. You'll need detailed instruction in sexual service, deportment, posture and other areas. I also want you in ideal physical condition. You'll be working out under the whip, regularly.
"One final detail. I'm having papers drawn up for you to transfer all your property interests to me. The house, bank accounts, everything. When you go to work tomorrow, I want you to arrange for your paychecks to be made out in my name as well.
"Do you understand everything I've told you?"
Throughout her lecture, I continued to lay face down in her bed, hogtied in my chains, cock-gagged, my face resting on her pussy, still wearing my butt-plug and chastity belt. I nodded my head, my lips caressing her cuntlips.
"Good. Just lie there now, and enjoy."
She read for nearly an hour as I remained gagged, my face in her pussy. Finally, her arousal grew again, her juices started flowing. She removed my cock-gag and said, "Lick!"
With my neck still strapped between her thighs, I licked her, following her detailed instructions when offered. Finally, having brought her to two more orgasms and reawakened the torture of my confined cock, she was satisfied.
She released my neck bondage, replacing my regular collar. She removed the lock connecting my wrists and ankles, then transferred my wrists to an "All-nighter" restraint, which attached my wrists to my thighs. My butt-plug remained in place. I was made to lie naked on the floor at the foot of her bed. With two padlocks and a foot of chain, my collar was attached to the bottom of a lower bedpost. I was fixed for the night.
The lights were put out, and she retired. The last thing I remembered was the sound of her quietly coming again, as she masturbated one last time. Feeling the plug in my ass, my cock throbbed painfully in its chastity belt. I shut my eyes and, somehow, slept.
12/27
I awoke with her cunt in my face. My collar chain had been released and she sat on my face, on the floor.
"Good morning, tongue-slave!"
As I moaned in response, she pulled away, then switched me into the cock-cage. I was made to clean the butt-plug by mouth, then my collar was switched for the neck-to-thigh harness. She led me, on my knees, to the living room, where she sat comfortably in her favorite chair. As I knelt waiting, wearing the neck harness which she still had not attached to her thighs, she said, "Breakfast first. Three fried eggs, breakfast sausages, homefries and toast, and hot chocolate. We'll both eat here, then you'll eat me."
I finished preparing breakfast quickly and crawled out to her again with a large tray. I served her her food, then she commanded, "Eat me to one orgasm first, before you eat your meal. If you're too slow, you'll eat a cold breakfast, or maybe none at all!"
I brought her off in less than two minutes and was permitted to eat from the tray on the floor at her feet. After I refilled her hot chocolate, she relocked my wrists behind me and strapped me between her thighs in the harness for our main session of cunnilingus.
For nearly forty-five minutes, I served her on my knees. My cock ached horribly; my balls, separated by the cage, felt like water balloons, ready to burst. Nevertheless, I would serve as required, while my pleasure was denied.
Eventually, she came for the last time, satisfied. I was allowed to shower while she chose my clothes from the locked wardrobe cabinets. As I showered, my cock-cage remained locked on, as it would for the day.
I was made to wear black patterned seamed stockings, with a black lace garter belt. A small posing pouch, made of black leather, covered my caged cock, teasing my ass with only a thin string to cover my ass-crack. Very tight jeans accentuated my ass and revealed the bulge of my imprisoned cock. The jeans also compressed my aching balls and would remind me of my need all day.
Before my shirt was put on, Mistress hung a pair of her soiled panties around my neck. Then, she locked a thin chain around my neck, intertwining it with the panties so neither could be removed. Her odor was strong in the panties and would stay with me for hours.
Finally, all was covered with a turtleneck shirt. My regular men's socks covered my stockings, and my boots completed the package. With a brief tonguing to her cunt just before leaving, her odor and taste were reinstalled on my mouth, and I was ready to go.
On the outside, I was presented to attract the attention of women. My pants left little to the imagination.
Inside, my cock and balls were effectively locked in a vise. My underwear was a mix of erotic male undergarments and female lingerie, both of which would keep me aroused. The neck chain with her attached panties would have me breathing her intimate scent for half the day. I hoped I could lose my long-endured erection before lunch.
All day, my clothes sustained my hard-on, while my cock-cage punished it for its rebellion. It was deserved punishment, administered by my cruel Mistress, now the real owner of my cock. The neck chain marked me, equally, as slave. The odor of her panties drew reactions a few times, but fortunately, each time was in a crowd with no clear hint as to who carried the humiliating odor.
I survived the day and arrived home in a state ready to do anything for relief. Just inside the door, I remembered. I found her note and read her instructions:
"To my loving cunt-licker: Remove all your outer male clothes. Insert your butt-plug and lock on its harness. Put on your posture collar and your penis-gag. Also, put on your high-heeled pumps, with the four-inch heels. Finally, use the handcuffs to lock your hands behind your back.
"When properly attired, walk to the bathroom. Kneel there and await me."
Even reading the note had me groaning in frustration. All the required items were in the box, and I obeyed the letter quickly. The butt-plug was the last thing I needed for my tortured cock--I had a twenty-four hour old erection already, and things were obviously going to get worse before they got better.
"Dressed" and properly restrained, I walked to the bathroom. There was a note taped to the mirror: "Kneel directly in front of the toilet." I knelt where directed. The toilet seat was up, and she had recently pissed in the toilet and not flushed it.
Mistress entered and commanded, "Eyes straight ahead!"
I couldn't even look at her. She attached my posture collar to the eyebolt directly behind me with a padlock. Now, I could not look around if I wanted to. She clipped two clothespins onto my nipples, then left.
I knelt, suffering, for the better part of an hour. All I could see was the toilet; all I could smell was her piss. With her soiled panties still around my neck, locked on with the chain, I had been immured in her odors all day and would continue to be now.
Finally, she returned. Wordlessly, she sat on the john and pissed. Then, she smiled down at me. I looked at her questioningly, but her only answer was to look at the toilet paper dispenser. It was empty, the roll removed.
I looked back at her with a grimace, as she smiled and removed my cock-gag. She stood, her cunt inches from my face. With a handful of my hair, she bent my head back a bit to the proper angle, then, still smiling, she spoke: "You are now my bidet-slave. Serve me!"
Humiliated, I extended my tongue to meet her cunt as it thrust at my mouth. I licked her thoroughly, picking up the few drops of piss which remained on her and cleaning her well. Satisfied, she replaced my cock-gag and walked out.
I knelt in my enforced silence, still limited to seeing and smelling what she left in the toilet. Totally degraded, I then heard her in the living room a short distance away, as she played one of our adult video tapes. She did not even deem me worthy to pleasure her cunt. I remained bound in place, in pain from both my cock-cage and nipple clamps, sucking on the rubber cock strapped in my mouth and breathing and tasting her piss.
She had several orgasms while watching her tape--she did nothing to quiet her cries of pleasure, but wanted me to hear her as I suffered.
Finally, she freed me. She removed my clamps, neck chain and handcuffs, then installed wrist and ankle shackles as well as a waist belt with rings. Using light chain and padlocks, she joined all my restraints, leaving substantial freedom of movement. My posing pouch was removed, but my stockings, garter belt and heels remained. All done wordlessly, she finally spoke: "Make dinner. The menu is on the kitchen table."
I walked to the kitchen. In the heels and chains, I was somewhat awkward. As I began working on the food, the chains frequently got in the way. Eventually, I knocked a glass onto the floor, breaking it.
Mistress stormed in angrily, cat-o-nine tails in hand. Surveying the evidence, she reprimanded me, welting my ass several times with the cat, as she screamed, "Good for nothing, clumsy slave! At the rate you're going, you'll be training for years! You'll learn proper slave deportment if it costs you your balls!"
She stormed out as quickly as she entered and returned moments later with several objects with which to punish me. To begin with, she wrapped the short, one inch ball-stretcher around my scrotum, locking it in place. Attached by the same padlock was a six inch length of chain. She then hung a five pound weight from the chain, again with a padlock. Next, my shoes were changed, replaced with identical pumps, but with five inch heels, an inch higher than the others. There were some simple leather items which locked around my instep and ankle, making the shoes impossible for me to remove. Finally, she shortened the chains on my wrists and ankles by several inches, further restricting my mobility.
"You now have two demerits. Your next accident will give you more, as well as more weight on your balls and some still shorter chains."
She swung once more with the cat. I screamed at the pain, then screamed again as the heavy weight hanging from my aching balls started swinging wildly. Now, dinner would be even more difficult to prepare.
Somehow, there were no more accidents. I served dinner, kneeling as ordered, free of any further errors. Unfortunately, the food was not as perfect. "My steak is overdone, and too dry. Three more demerits!"
I shuddered. I was up to five demerits. I tried to remember what punishments she listed as examples. The law was not yet laid down, but as I recalled, five demerits might amount to thirty strokes with the cane, or as much as two and a half hours in puntative bondage.
We made it through dinner. I was allowed, re-gagged, but still wearing my heels and ball weights, to clean the kitchen.
I was summoned to the den, where Mistress was putting a movie into the VCR. She removed my ball weights and serving chains, then padlocked my ankles together and my wrist shackles behind me. "You're responding well to my scent, and I'm enjoying getting head from you more and more each day. The movie I'm going to watch is nearly two hours long. You'll spend all of it in this."
She held up the leather "Mistress Pants".
My cock pulsed painfully. My ass tightened around its plug. She removed my cock-gag and commanded me to kiss her pussy, just once, then briefly insert my tongue in her asshole. I obeyed, then she strapped my head tightly into the helmet part of the device.
I heard her walk away momentarily. I heard the clink of glass, the rustle of paper. I also heard what sounded like a test swing of a whip. Then, she put on the pants attached to my helmet and pulled my face into her cunt.
For the next two hours, perhaps more, Mistress used my mouth. I began learning how to respond to her subtle commands. By the time I was released, I was licking, sucking, kissing and stroking her, on cue, just from the movements of her hips as she thrust into my face. Much of the time, I suffered my persistent erection. Sometimes, though, I was able to separate myself from my needs. Strangely, with all the torture I was in, the helmet almost acted as a sensory deprivation device. My universe was Mistress' cunt. I breathed, tasted, felt nothing else. And from her responses, at those times I served her the most effectively.
Some time after the movie ended, she commanded me to leave my eyes closed as she removed the Mistress Pants. She then switched me quickly into a rubber discipline helmet. I was hung by my wrists in her bedroom, facing the bed, on my toes. Even in the five inch pumps, the heels did not touch the floor. My ankles were spread some three feet apart. My cock-gag was suddenly thrust back into my mouth, then my cock cage was removed, freeing my long-imprisoned erection.
A few minutes passed, then I felt Mistress doing something with my balls. Suddenly I felt pinpricks, and realized she was applying my parachute. It was a cone-shaped affair with a hole at its apex. It wrapped around my scrotum, and three short chains hung from its edges, joining just under my balls. It was lined with short needlepoints and would torture my balls when she hung the weights from its bottom.
The weights came next. In stages, one or two pounds at a time, she eventually hung about eight or ten pounds from the parachute. Now, my already aching balls were truly in agony. Then, a single, hard stroke from a cane seared my ass.
I screamed through my gag, as much with shock as with the pain. Pulling hard on my bonds, my body tight as a bowstring, the weights on the parachute started swinging wildly. Mistress laughed, amused at my suffering. She replaced the clothespins on my nipples and hung some weights from them as well. I feared another stroke, tensing for it, but it did not come. Instead, her hands started caressing me, arousing me, touching me all over.
She'd rub my thighs, then give me a light pinch on the head of my cock. She'd run her fingernails through my underarms and down my sides and suddenly switch to licking a nipple, or simply giving a nudge to one of the weights hanging from my body, setting it swinging again. For several minutes, I'd feel nothing, then suddenly I'd feel her very lips on my cockhead and a quick, teasing stroke of her tongue. Then, she'd give my butt-plug a push, or perhaps scratch a fingernail across my already tortured balls.
After a fair time, she tired of teasing me. Suddenly, the weight on one of my nipple clamps increased. Likewise, the other clamp's weight doubled. I tensed again, anticipating more agony for my balls. I was proved correct, as another pound or two of weight was added to the parachute. Now, all the pinpricks bit deeper, and my balls were stretched at least another inch lower. It occurred to me that in the close to five hours I had been home, she had spoken fewer than forty words to me. She then added eight more. "I'm taking a shower, stud. Don't go away!" In response, I groaned painfully through my gag, silently praying for the weights to stop swinging.
She returned thirty minutes later. I still hung in agony, strung up on my toes, all the weights still hanging from my body. She removed my gag, and I immediately begged, "Please, Mistress, have mercy!"
"But I'm enjoying you, slave! Stop wining. I'm going to give you a choice. You're scheduled to have an orgasm tonight, but you still have demerits to pay off. Your restraint for the past half-hour paid off one; you've got four to go. You can pay them off in three ways, and I'll allow you to choose. You can take two dozen with the riding crop, bound as you are, before you come. You can be denied orgasm tonight. Or, you can take only a dozen strokes now, and wear your butt-plug to work tomorrow. Choose!"
Desparate, I thought quickly. I could not take all the strokes, not bound this way. And I could not survive another day without an orgasm, especially the way my balls were aching. The butt-plug would be a humiliation to take to work, even worse to walk around with all day, but even with the ten strokes attached to the deal, it was the easiest way out.
"I-I'll take the ten strokes and the butt-plug."
"Pig!" She slapped me, hard. "Answer properly, begging for your punishment, or I'll hang another five pounds from your nuts!"
"P-please, Mistress, give me ten strokes with the crop, and further punish me with a butt-plug all day tomorrow."
She accepted my request. The riding crop was brought out, and she spoke: "You will count the strokes, saying, 'Please, Mistress, number one,' and so on, before each one. You may pace yourself, but don't take too long, or you may get a few extra."
"Yes, Mistress."
I knew I would suffer. I hoped I could pace myself to avoid extra strokes, but I also knew this was, indeed, a punishment. I was afraid.
"Please, Mistress, number one."
The stroke fell, and I screamed, as my body flexed and all the weights started in swinging again. I suffered for long seconds, praying for the weights to stop, when suddenly the crop fell again, this time on the backs of my stockinged thighs.
"Arrgh! Please, Mistress, number two."
She was merciless. I learned that I could survive more than I thought I could. I took a total of three extra strokes and finished the punishment in tears, petrified of what might have happened if I had chosen the full two dozen strokes.
Ten minutes later, I was tightly spread-eagled to the bed on my back. The plug and cock-cage were gone, but my posture collar remained in place. The rubber discipline helmet remained as well, now hot and lined with sweat. She used me, as she had before, forcing me to eat her to orgasm before she even touched my cock. Eventually, she mounted me, bringing me to a short, but incredibly powerful orgasm, one which felt like my entire body was being sucked into her cunt. This time, I had no opportunity to enjoy my afterglow. As soon as I shot my load, she immediately bolted to my face.
My mind was slowly changing, adjusting to my enslavement. Now, as I sucked my come out of Mistress' pussy, it fulfilled me, completing the experience of my orgasm. While it was humiliating, it was also proper, appropriate. I remembered earlier, when I ate her from within the Mistress Pants, I served best when I put aside my desires and served as a pure slave, interested only in pleasing her. I found myself wanting to please her more and more, finding less importance in my own pleasure. My torture was correct, because it enabled me to better please my Mistress. My degradation was a natural part of training as well, aiding me to eliminate my own selfish needs and giving more importance to Mistress' desires. Thinking this way, I dove hungrily into her cunt with my tongue, seeking out my come which filled her and swallowing all she had to give me. Later, as I gave her her third or fourth orgasm, I noted my cock attempting to erect again. I found I resented its interference and plunged my tongue still deeper into Mistress' pussy, ignoring my own need even to breathe.
When she rolled off of me, satisfied, and re-locked the cage on my cock, she commented, "You've done well, slave. You've earned the use of my bed if you desire it. You will, of course, remain bound. Still, I almost suspect you're adjusting so well to slavery, you might prefer the floor. Do you?"
"Mistress, I prefer pleasing you, in or out of your bed. While the bed is more comfortable, and closer to your glorious body, the floor is my proper place. I would only feel proper sharing your bed if it is your own wish."
"Well said, slave. Tonight, it is my wish."
With a finger, she stroked my cockhead, erect again in its cage, and picked up a drop of pre-come which oozed from it. I groaned with the pleasure of the touch. She presented the finger at my lips. I extended my tongue and licked.
She put out the lights and soon slept. I slept at her side, chained hand and foot to the bed. My cock remained caged, and my discipline helmet remained in place until morning.
12/28
I awoke with my entire head drenched in sweat within the helmet. I noted she had closed the eye flaps before mounting my face, so I saw nothing, but only tasted her juices. I brought her off quickly, and was allowed to bathe her and then shower myself.
She installed the butt-plug I would wear all day. It was, again, the naturally shaped dildo, which would stroke in and out of my ass continuously whenever I moved. I was concerned with the fact that she left my regular cock-cage on as well, which would more quickly punish my attempted erections.
Under my work clothes, I wore only a full-body fishnet sheath. It was a one piece job, without even a zipper or a snap at the crotch. To use the toilet, I would have to remove all my clothes above the waist, or else piss right through the sheath.
Although my work did not suffer, my cock did. I spent the better part of the day on my feet, and every step I took pumped on the dildo locked in my ass. The fishnet continuously abraded every square inch of skin I had below the neck and reminded me painfully of the welts on my ass every time I sat down. The cock-cage reminded me of the priority of Mistress' pleasure over my own. The dildo reminded me of her total ownership of me.
That night, she again placed me in chains, dressed only in stockings, garter belt and the five inch heels, again locked on. I worked extensively cleaning much of the house, doing laundry, floors and servicing Mistress' body frequently. She left the dildo locked in my ass as I worked and served.
Once, I forgot to call her Mistress. Another time, I forgot to drop to my knees in her presence. And by the time I spilled her drink late in the evening, I had worked up to a massive twelve demerits. At bedtime, she again strung me up in the bedroom, facing her bed. I was nude, wearing only my collar, cock-cage and the butt-plug harness.
"You've earned some punishment, slave--a full twelve demerits. Aside from the punishment, I've already decided that in the four nights you have left between now and the new year, you'll only be allowed one orgasm. So your chastity belt will not count towards your punishment.
''There are three choices for you: Seventy-two strokes with the cat, a night in heavy bondage, or another day with the butt-plug tomorrow and the loss of your one remaining orgasm before New Year's. Choose!"
I was totally intimidated. I could not tolerate that many strokes. I could not predict how badly a night in bondage would affect my work, and the butt-plug reminded me of how valuable a commodity my orgasms now were. Then, something hit me. I was her slave. I was not choosing a pleasure. I had to choose something that would correct me, making it unpleasant enough to force me to change. The only choice that would do so without interfering with my performance would have to be the whipstrokes. I shuddered in fear, but I knew that had to be the choice.
"Mistress, please punish me with the cat. But please Mistress, I am not yet well-trained enough to properly submit to that many strokes, so could I be gagged?"
She knew I was pushing my limits and stood almost in awe of me. For a moment, I feared she'd show an instant of weakness. Then, the instant passed, and she said, "Yes, slave, I'll gag you. But for troubling me with such wining, your gag will be an additional punishment." She put the cat-o-nine tails on the bed in front of me, then left the room.
When she returned a minute later, she thrust her panties into my mouth. As I feared, they were soaked with her piss. She then pushed the double ended cock-gag in my mouth, locking it in place. Now, I could do nothing to stop my torture and would taste her piss and have a rubber cock in my mouth throughout my upcoming punishment. I also had reason to suspect she would be riding that dildo later, on my face, after my whipping.
My mind had drifted. The first stroke caught me off-guard, causing me to scream, more from surprise than from pain. She got into a regular rhythm with the strokes, soon advancing to the point where she had me groaning deeply with every stroke.
Somehow, the initial dozen or so strokes were nowhere near as bad as I expected. Indeed, she was slowly increasing the force of the blows as my ass warmed, reddened and later welted.
Soon, I did begin screaming, in genuine pain. My wife was benefitting greatly from this exercise--she was feeling out my limits, testing various parts of my ass and thighs for sensitivity. She learned quickly, keeping me well past the point of pain and punishment, but still using enough restraint of her strength so I profited fully from each blow. I grew to trust her not to injure me, yet I would sincerely fear my next whipping.
She stretched out the process, to rest her arm, to maximize her enjoyment of my suffering and to make sure I got the greatest possible benefit from each stroke. With several pauses, it took nearly half an hour to complete the whipping. Long before it ended, I was in tears. She dropped the cat on the bed again and left the room.
For close to thirty minutes, I hung in my chains, exhausted. My stretched limbs grew stiff, my chafed cock tried regularly to become erect within its cage, stimulated by the dildo still filling my ass. And her panties, filling my mouth, held in by the double dildo she had locked in place, still carried the only tastes I would be permitted to enjoy that night.
Eventually, she moved me to the bed, spreadeagling me again. She straddled me, using her hands to tease both of us. She would caress my thighs, chest, underarms, nipples and my face, then move to her own breasts. She'd run a finger through her cunt-slit, tease me by wiping her juices under my nose, then after a brief, torturous touch to my cock-head, she would suddenly cut off my pleasure with a vicious pinch to my nipples.
Soon, with her pussy poised inches above my face, nearly touching the business end of the dildo which extended out from my mouth, I was desperate in my own arousal. I knew I would not be allowed to come, but still, I anticipated the sight of my Mistress being penetrated by the dildo-gag. Then, suddenly, she did the only thing she could have done to make things worse--she blindfolded me.
As soon as my vision was lost, she sank onto the dildo, burying it within her, my nose caressing her clitoris. Now, I could see nothing; I smelled her wonderful cunt-scent, but I could only taste the acrid remnants of her piss, as my mouth was fucked by the dildo-gag. She used me for the better part of half an hour, constantly battering my face on her downstrokes while forcing the lower end of the dildo deep into my mouth. At times, she'd pause and reverse direction, sitting so as to face my lower body. When she did so, her anus came down right on my nose. Sometimes, she'd stop at the bottom of a stroke and pull her ass-cheeks together. This would cause my nose to be completely engulfed, totally preventing me from breathing. For many long seconds, she'd remain in place, smothering me, until she felt my struggles build, trying futilely to dislodge her. Then, finally, she'd rise up, only to repeat the process one, ten or fifty strokes later.
Eventually, she came, for the last time, after more orgasms than I could count. She removed the dildo-gag, but then wrapped the posture collar around my neck. She took the piss-soaked panties from my mouth, by now almost devoid of her taste, and wiped her crotch clean. She then replaced them in my mouth.
"They will be there in the morning, or you'll get five demerits!"
That was her good-night. The lights went out, and we slept. I remained bound, my cock remained tortured by its cage, and the butt-plug filled my ass until morning.
12/29
I slept intermittently. Although Mistress did not use me or tease me, the butt-plug and cock-cage worked together, and my arousal continued to torture my cock, waking me frequently.
The panties stayed in my mouth all night. With the posture collar locked on, my head remained in position, facing the ceiling. By morning, the tastes the panties had contained were gone.
Mistress rose and used the bathroom; only then did she come to my face for her cleaning and her wake-up orgasm. She then freed my limbs, allowed me to rise, unlocked the butt-plug harness, and let me use the bathroom myself. I showered, and was allowed to dress in a tight leather corset, with attached garters to hold up my black stockings. Interestingly, I had worn the cock-cage continuously since the previous morning, and was not yet allowed to change it. This morning, I would wear no underwear to cover it, and would wear some extremely tight jeans.
My balls were again swollen. The pants abraded them all day, particularly when I sat down. Again, Mistress had me eat her to orgasm just before I walked out the door, and her scent kept me aroused for hours. By the time I returned home that afternoon, the required removal of my clothes was an act of mercy.
The mercy was short-lived, however. The toy box contained the three inch ball-stretcher. It also contained the waist belt, a very short length of chain, leather wrist cuffs, and two padlocks. Her note read, "Put on the ball-stretcher first. Hang the chain from its ring with one padlock. Put on the waist belt, lock your wrists behind you, then report to me in the den. I'll hear you come in, and you'll get three strokes for every minute it takes you to get ready."
The ball-stretcher took several agonizing minutes to put on, as it required me to torture myself in its application. I was groaning in pain by the time I fastened the wrist cuffs and fell to my knees. It took ten full minutes before my lips kissed her boots.
"Ten minutes. You'll get thirty strokes! First, stand, and turn around, so I can finish your ball-bondage."
I was afraid, and my fear was growing rapidly. I was already tortured by the ball-stretcher. What more could she do?
My ass was again opened by a dildo. A good inch and a quarter by six inches, my ass was filled. I wondered what she would use to hold it in place, as she had no appropriate harness in sight. Then, I screamed at her answer.
She took the chain attached to my ball-stretcher and, pulling it back hard, pulled my balls back between my ass-cheeks and padlocked the chain to the waist belt.
The pain increased, by several orders of magnitude. Now, my balls were rigidly held into the base of my ass-crack. The connecting chain held the plug in place. When an involuntary muscle spasm tried to eject the plug, it pushed against the chain, and pulled hard on my already tortured balls. Worse, if I tried to bring my legs together, my balls would be squashed between my thighs.
Now, Mistress tied a rope around my legs, just over my knees. This had the effect of actively crushing my poor nuts. I groaned, in obvious pain. But she still was not done.
Another rope was attached to my wrist cuffs, still joined behind my back. The end was passed through an eyebolt directly over my head, then hoisted up. My wrists were pulled high behind me, causing me to bend over at the waist. This also caused my balls to be pulled back sharply between my tightly roped thighs. Now, I screamed.
She stood before me. She was dressed in a black satin night dress, of a material so thin, and cut so low, it left little to the imagination. Her boots, skyscraper heels, were thigh high and trimmed in chrome at toe and heel. Her hair was tied back severely, and she held a cane and a cat-o-nine tails.
"You have thirty strokes coming. They will be administered to you as you are now bound. The cane will be much more severe on your ass. Still, the cat-o-nine will be much more likely to lash your poor balls for many of the strokes. Choose your punishment!"
Under the circumstances, I could not think as clearly as I would have liked. Still, I knew the contortions I would make under the cane would be almost as painful for my balls as the occasional contact from the cat. Worse, the welts from the cane could last for days. I did remember the proper protocol.
"Please, Mistress, punish me with the cat."
She smiled. For an instant, I worried. Then, I realized, with either weapon I was going to suffer, and my balls would take their share either way.
The first stroke caused me to thrust forward in my bondage, which raised the angle of my arms severely. My balls were pulled painfully with my motion, and I resolved to try to limit my movements.
I screamed on the second stroke and on each stroke thereafter. Several strokes flicked my balls, and on those strokes, my screams were long and hard, continuing into the next stroke. By the time the whipping was finished, I was in tears.
She stood before me again. "Thank me for punishing you!"
Completely humbled, I responded, "Thank you, Mistress, for a most effective punishment.
She then said, "Kiss the whip!"
I obeyed.
"Now, open your mouth!"
I opened, and she thrust the whip's handle between my teeth. "Hold that, until I decide on your work duties tonight!" She walked away.
I hung, bent over at right angles, my arms hoisted up painfully behind me, straight up towards the ceiling. My balls, stretched, pulled and crushed between my bound thighs, still ached. I was fortunate, in that when Mistress returned some fifteen minutes later, I still held the whip between my teeth.
She took back the whip, then lowered my bound arms. When I stood straight, the change in angle again affected the pull on my balls, making me grimace. She released my thigh rope, and I stood there with my legs spread to avoid more pain. Wrists still bound, I awaited my work assignments.
"You'll be working on the floors tonight. You'll sweep the kitchen floor, then scrub it on your hands and knees, and wax it when done. Following that, you'll do the bathroom floor the same way. You'll make pork chops for dinner, and serve me as needed when I call on you. First, kneel, and give me a quick orgasm with your tongue!"
I knelt and licked her, bringing her off in two or three minutes. She then had me rise and removed my cuffs. Since I'd be working on my knees most of the night, she also removed my stockings. To assist me in feeling more natural on my knees, she had me put on a pair of opera pumps with six inch heels, and using the leather harnesses as before, locked them on my feet.
"Now, slave, get to work!"
It took me over two hours to finish the kitchen floor. The sweeping was easy, although the six-inch heels had me tottering, often stumbling and pulling painfully on my chained balls. To do the washing, I worked with a scrub brush, rags, and a single bucket. I had to change water frequently, and suffered much with my heels and ball bondage. At one point, I spilled a full bucket of water. Mistress stormed in and lashed me furiously with a quirt, and it took me an extra ten minutes to clean up the spill.
I had to work on preparing dinner at the same time as the floor was being finished, in order to be able to complete all the work. As the chops were cooking, Mistress called me in to service her, and I had to work energetically and carefully to finish her quickly, so as to avoid burning the food.
I finished the work on the floor just as dinner was ready to come out. I served, was permitted to eat, and even worked without a mishap in spite of my locked on heels. After Mistress ate, she had me kneel behind her and use my tongue on her asshole as she masturbated to a quick orgasm. I cleaned her then with my mouth, and was permitted to resume my other duties.
I waxed the kitchen floor, then headed for the bathroom to start that job. Mistress joined me first, needing to use the toilet. She commanded me to kneel with my head literally between her knees as she pissed. Under her direct domination, I started feeling the pain in my body again--my cock started to pulse in its cage, my swollen balls ached, and the dildo in my ass kept me under constant pressure. Worst of all, the chain pulling my balls back was merciless, emphasizing all my pain every time I moved.
She finished her piss and stood, her pussy now thrust into my face. "Clean me!" Again, my lips and tongue served her, removing all traces of piss from her cunt. Satisfied, she walked out wordlessly, leaving me to my chores, or so I thought. Suddenly, she turned around and walked back in, as I still knelt at the toilet. "Lift the seat!" I did so. She had me lower my face into the toilet, to within an inch of the water below. She then lowered the seat, and the upper cover as well, to rest on the back of my neck and head, the weight pushing me down further.
Suddenly, my hands were pulled back, and a padlock attached my wrists behind me. "Hold position until I permit you to move!" With that, I heard her heels walking out of the bathroom.
I knelt, my head now in the toilet, my face almost in the piss-filled water. Indeed, with the weight of the seat upon the back of my head, if I relaxed, my face would lower itself right into the water. At this range, the odor of her piss filled my lungs with every breath. It was almost like I was breathing the very essence of my Mistress.
She had even put out the light, so I could see nothing. I heard little; my whole world became the toilet. I felt only the restraints on my body, the cock-cage punishing any pulse of arousal of my cock, the dildo filling my ass, and the ball-stretcher threatening to tear my balls off. I felt myself going through stages of change in my mind. First, I wanted to protest, as if I was being unjustly punished. This made me struggle, and feel the pain of my bonds. Then, I felt the degradation, alternating with the perverse arousal from my predicament. This made me alternate between shame and the pain of the cock-cage and ball-stretcher. Again, the wrong mental attitude punished me.
Finally, I was immersed in the essence of my Mistress. My arousal was the distraction, justifiably punished. I revelled in the privilege of worshipping her, in being absorbed in her, in giving up all, pain and pleasure alike, to make her my total universe. Now, I knew what I was to learn, and I cried tears of joy.
When she finally permitted me to rise, I lowered my lips to her boots, kissing them, and said, "Thank you, Mistress, for teaching me my true place!" She patted my head in appreciation, smiled, and said, "Finish cleaning the bathroom."
The work was finished in another hour. I then spent some time serving Mistress in the den, mostly kneeling, handcuffed, at her feet. She decided to watch an adult videotape, and wanted me to become part of the show.
She had me sit right on top of the TV. With my balls still painfully pulled back between my legs, I had to sit quite carefully, especially with my wrists cuffed behind my back. Then, things got decidedly worse.
My ankles were pulled out to either side. Ropes were pulled through the padlocks on my shoe harnesses and pulled tightly down to the floor. Now, it took some significant strength from my thigh muscles to avoid sitting with my weight directly on my balls. As I began protesting, out of fear, she thrust a penis-gag into my mouth, then blindfolded me.
It was pure torture. Either my thighs would ache, or my balls would cry out in agony. She added weighted nipple clamps as well, just to enhance the scene. Only then did she start the movie.
Even worse than the physical torture was the foreknowledge that she would probably not touch me for the duration of the tape, just over an hour in length. I was not there to please, but to be a mere decoration, an enhancement for her viewing. The movie itself aroused me as well--it was one we both enjoyed, and my cock pulsed against its restraining rings as I recalled the scenes.
Still, my balls had the worst of it. Denied orgasm for nearly fortyeight hours now, while teased and bound through much of it, they were swollen and sensitive. Now, stretched to their limit and further crushed under my weight, they were reaching the limits of my pain tolerance. For most of the movie, I was groaning aloud with the pain.
Somehow, I survived. When she freed me from the TNT, I collapsed to the floor. She nozzled my face with the toe of her boot, and I, still cock-gagged, rubbed my cheek against the leather as a gesture of appreciation. Still blindfolded, I was brought to my feet and she finally unlocked my ball chain. I screamed through my gag as it fell free, but even with the three inch ball-stretcher still in place, it was a major improvement. She removed the dildo from my ass, then, removing my gag, made me clean the dildo by mouth. She then attached a leash to my collar and led me, still stumbling on my six inch heels, to the bedroom.
She removed my cock-cage and replaced it with something I could not identify. It had some sort of stiff leather sleeve which enclosed the lower half of my cock, leaving the head end of my erection free. It strapped around my waist, locking in place, and its criss-crossed straps left my asshole exposed. I felt something other than the leather at my pubic bone, but I couldn't quite tell yet what it was. Finally, she removed my blindfold.
She was lying on the bed before me, almost naked, wearing only her thigh-boots and her waist-cincher. Before I even had a chance to examine my new cock restraint, she said, "Come, slave. Eat me once, then you're going to fuck me."
My long-denied erection pulsed in anticipation. I practically dove at her cunt as she laid there, servicing her aggressively. She pulled madly at my hair, trying to get more of my face inside her. By the time she was sated, some fifteen or twenty minutes later, my erection had fully returned, now swelling against its partial restraint, its outer half standing proudly.
She rose and had me lie on the bed, my cuffed hands beneath me. She straddled my face, mostly to tease me, since I had just eaten her to a major orgasm anyway. She masturbated a bit, an inch over my mouth, as I watched, occasionally extending my tongue to help. Finally, she backed up, slowly, until she was directly over my cock.
She lowered herself onto me until perhaps an inch of my cock was inside her, then said, "Fuck me, darling!" I thrust up at her, impatiently, with two days worth of semen still filling my stretched balls. I noticed now, one function of my cock restraint. When I had a mere three or four inches of my cock inside her, the leather device met the outside of her cunt and prevented further penetration. I thrust more aggressively, but could achieve no more.
"C'mon lover, fuck me!"
She lowered herself more. Now, my strokes were still more aggressive, but I was alarmed to discover the second function of the leather toy locked upon me. At the base of the leather surrounding my cock, where it pressed into my pubic bone and the other surrounding flesh, it was lined with needlepoints. I would not feel them unless I thrust hard against Mistress' cunt. But now, she was smiling, knowing my predicament and demanding that I perform. She came down lower still.
I felt the points now on every upward thrust. Worse, with my balls stretched, I wasn't sure if I could even come. Also, my cock swelled hard against the leather which now partially constricted it. She started thrusting down hard upon me now, clear in the knowledge that she could get a long fuck, albeit without the depth of penetration, but she could probably continue it as long as she wanted, torturing my flesh with the pinpoints throughout. Soon, she was thrusting down with her entire weight.
I cried out in pain on every stroke. The pleasure was there, but it was frustrated, as half my cock was sheathed in the heavy leather, preventing it from penetrating. It was compressed as well, probably to my benefit. Without the compression at the base of my cock, I probably would have lost my erection under the pain. My balls were not left idle, either. Still stretched, every jolt of Mistress' body upon mine caused them to bounce, and they felt ready to explode. With two days worth of come inside them, they would have been sensitive to any touch. Sometimes, I neared an orgasm, and my balls attempted to rise in the sheath. Of course, they were prohibited from rising as nature designed them to do; all that rose was my pain level.
For some considerable time, I remained trapped in my pain. Then, I remembered. What was most important was the pleasure of my Mistress. My own pleasure was unimportant. My pain would enhance Mistress' pleasure. Again, I realized that resisting my slavery was what tortured me, making me more vulnerable to my abuse. So I gave in to it. I stopped resisting, allowing all the sensations to hit me, allowing Mistress' weight to land on me as it would, allowing myself to react naturally and fully to all the pain and taking slave-pride in my suffering.
The first thing I noticed was that I began to welcome the pain, no longer fearing it, nor fearing my groans in response to it. Then I noticed Mistress' arousal building rapidly, enjoying my tortured responses. Finally, in the midst of the torture, I felt my own orgasm rapidly approaching.
A switch clicked in my head, and I realized my responsibility. "Mistress, may your slave come?" The plea was screamed in desperation. In response, Mistress herself began to come, crying out loudly. As her orgasm peaked, she screamed her answer: "Yes, slave--shoot your balls off--fill my cunt with your come, so I can feed it to you when we're done!"
We both screamed, and my own orgasm shot out, in an explosion of pleasure-pain.
She collapsed upon me. As I recovered, the pain returned. My balls chafed severely, and her weight pressed the harness into my body, its points now painfully embedded in my flesh.
She rose with her upper body, smiled down, and said, "Time to thank Mistress for letting you empty your load into her cunt. You may now suck it all out again." Seconds later, she was sitting astride my face as I swallowed our mixed juices from her pussy. As we had done for all my previous orgasms (how many had it been since she enslaved me?), I sucked her to orgasm yet again after cleaning her. She then removed my ball stretcher, locked on my jock-strap chastity belt and released my other bonds. My hands were handcuffed in front, then padlocked to my collar. My ankles were also padlocked, then I was brought to the floor, my collar chained to the foot of her bed.
I slept soundly.
12/30
I worked half a day on the 30th and would have New Year's Eve and Day off. She made me wear the jock-strap belt to work, with jeans. I also wore red crotchless pantyhose and continued wearing the same corset from the previous day, strapped on even tighter.
Before leaving, she demanded in no uncertain terms, "You will also wear some fresh welts to work. Bend over, face to the floor, and show me your bare ass!" To my horror, she withdrew the cane.
"You'll take half a dozen without breaking position. If you fail, you'll take triple tonight!" In horror of the cane, it suddenly occurred to me that, even if I reacted normally to the pain, my body would move in response. Now, without restraints, I would have to take active control over my reactions to avoid further punishment.
I screamed hard and loud from the first stroke. I shook my head, bit into my hands and cried tears. Somehow, my ass offered itself throughout the entire half dozen. As I whimpered at her feet, she said, "Now, slave, you may thank me for your welts."
Her exposed cunt stared at me. I rose to my knees and, with my pants still around my ankles, ate her to orgasm. Finished, I was allowed to restore my clothes and leave for work.
The combined effects of her scent on my face, plus the welts, kept me agitated all day. My arousal grew quickly, amplified by the knowledge that I would be denied orgasm that night. Even more powerful were the painful welts my ass would likely bear for a few days. Each time I sat down, I remembered my Mistress with awe. When my erection pulsed in its restraint, I felt truly owned. And I was beginning to like the feeling.
She met me at the door. Quickly, she unlocked my chastity belt, but only to insert a well-greased butt-plug. "You may restore your pants, my slut--we're going out!"
We had a light lunch. As we ate, my butt-plug, upon which I sat, constantly reminded me of my status. Mistress also made it a point to find excuses for me to walk around numerous times, amused at the subtle effects the plug had on my stride. Before we left, I felt truly humiliated.
Early in the meal, she handed me the clothespins. "Go to the restroom and put these on your tits!" Naturally, the restroom was occupied. I waited until the single stall was available. Quickly, not wanting to be discovered, I lifted my shirt, clipped on the clothespins and, with a grimace of pain, returned to my Mistress. She quickly and surreptitiously felt my nipples through my shirt to be sure I obeyed, but said nothing.
Towards the end of the meal, she herself used the restroom. I thought little about it at the time until, when the waitress brought our check, she ordered two draft beers.
The beers arrived. Mistress quickly drank down most of hers, then switched glasses, placing hers, with only an inch or so left in the glass, in front of me. Suddenly, she smiled at me, with the kind of smile she only used to precede an act of cruelty. I felt my cock pulse in its belt, and the plug in my ass did nothing to build my confidence.
She reached into her purse and took out a glass container, filled with a liquid similar in color to the beer. She handed it to me, and I was shocked to find it was quite warm.
''Pour it into your glass!"
It was a command. With my nipples in pain already, and the welts on my ass reminding me how bad things could get, I would not dare refuse.
I removed the top of the container. As Mistress smiled at me, I inhaled the unmistakably strong odor of piss. Yes, the container was filled with her piss, fresh from her recent trip to the bathroom.
Her demanding look was impatient. I emptied the container into my glass, filling it almost to the brim. The odor would build around us soon--I would not be able to stall.
Mistress picked up her glass, filled with refreshing, cold beer. With a gesture, she made me pick up mine, as well.
"A toast--to your complete enslavement!"
We touched glasses. Then, she again gave me that look of absolute demand that would tolerate no hesitation. I lifted the glass to my lips.
I had tasted her piss before, several times, when she demanded cleanings from me after her relieving herself. This, however, was a new, major challenge. Now, it was not just a taste, but a full twelve-ounce glass. Now, it was not licked from her body, within a sexual context, but consumed as part of an otherwise normal activity (Normal, that is, if you discount my chastity-belt, butt-plug, female undergarments and the clothespins still painfully clamped on my nipples). Worst of all, it was in the full exposure to the public, where even a casual passerby might detect the odor, or note the slight difference in the color of my glass.
As Mistress continued to gaze into my eyes, waiting for my response to her toast, I took a sip. The taste was shocking. Not horrible, as one might expect, but of a character that was undismissable, unignorable in the current setting. Mistress drank down her glass, watching my movements as I drank down mine. Her eyes never left mine, watching me humiliate myself.
I finished the glass. About two-thirds of the way through, I made as if I would pause, but Mistress, with a gesture, indicated I should drink it down in one shot. I obeyed, not without some difficulty. The wave of utter mortification I experienced with that single act I have yet to equal.
She commanded me to summon the waitress myself, pay her and compliment her on the meal. She also required me to pay extra tribute to the quality of the beer. It seemed innocuous at the time; I complied. We then waited longer, until she returned one last time to bus the table. As she picked up the glasses, there was the slightest look on her face that indicated her awareness that something was amiss. With that observation, we left. I was not permitted to rinse my mouth.
I had presumed we were going home. Unfortunately, Mistress had other plans. At her command, we drove to the town park and pulled up at the Tennis Courts.
We had played tennis occasionally. Early on, I would beat her with some regularity. As time passed, however, her game had improved, to the point where I had to work hard to win at all, and she won entire matches with me frequently.
Needless to say, she had secretly packed our outfits and racquets. Leaving the car, my butt-plug and chastity belt reminded me that this would be a handicap match. She instructed me to remove the clothespins from my nipples and be on the court quickly.
"You had better play well, slave! Every set you lose by will cost you an hour in bondage!"
I changed nervously, not wanting to be discovered with the clothes I wore. I was on the court in minutes, and even before play started, I realized my butt-plug would be my worst enemy.
During warmups, each bend I took from the waist moved the plug sideways in my ass. Each jump withdrew it somewhat, while each landing on my feet thrust it hard into my ass. My speed and mobility were handicapped, my coordination was off, my concentration was distracted and my play suffered accordingly. Needless to say, I lost 4-1.
Again, in the locker room, I was nervous about discovery. A shower was out of the question, and I had to restore all my female undergarments. Just as I pulled up my pants, another man walked in, petrifying me. Fortunately, my secrets remained secure.
Back in the car, Mistress was gloating in her victory. "You disappointed me today. I expected better play from you!" She smiled, knowingly. I cringed, not sure of what to expect.
Arriving home, we parked in the garage, and I was made to remove my outer male clothes before I was permitted to enter the house. She fitted me with handcuffs and a collar and leash, then led me in.
In the living room, I knelt before her. "You've got three hours in bondage coming. Each hour will be in a different position, and you'll have breaks between them to serve my needs. You won't eat until your punishment is finished. Since you won't be coming tonight, your chastity belt and plug will remain in place throughout. For now, you can get out some equipment for your first ordeal..."
She fitted me with wrist shackles. I was made to put on my five-inch heels, and the shoe-locks were employed to fasten them on. My wrists were fastened to a pulley over my head and hoisted up until my heels barely remained on the floor. To this point, I had no problems. Unfortunately, things got substantially worse. She tied another rope to the ring on my right foot. Behind me, she ran the rope up my back, then passed it through the rings of my wrist shackles. With a sadistic laugh, she hoisted up sharply on the rope.
My foot was pulled up high behind me, well past my waist. It caused my back to arch severely, until my leg and back almost formed a circle. My left foot still was at floor level, but with the arching of my back, only my toe touched the floor. As I groaned in pain, Mistress smiled before me, caressing my ass, and said, "One hour, slave!"
I was quickly in agony. The weight of my body was my enemy, more so than ever. If I pulled upward to relieve the strain on my right leg, my back and wrists took the brunt. When I relaxed, trying to support my weight on my now lonely left toes, my right leg felt like it was being torn off.
The agony reached a plateau quickly and stayed there. I was near tears as, twenty minutes into the ordeal, Mistress clipped two clothespins onto my nipples.
Now, every strain was emphasized further, as all the flesh covering my severely arched chest was pulled tightly already. With the addition of the clamps, all that pain was reawakened.
"You look so pretty suffering there, slave!", she said, on one of her periodic trips to caress and tease my body. "Perhaps I'll flog you in this position some day..." The thought struck me with so much fear, I visibly shuddered. I moaned in agony, unable to beg for mercy.
My pain suddenly increased again, by an order of magnitude, as, at the forty minute mark, she raised my pulley rope another inch or two. Every bone in my body strained, as my left toes barely touched the floor. I cried openly, my eyes pleading with my Mistress, who, in turn, sat, watched me suffer, and idly masturbated.
I survived it. She lowered my leg rope first, slowly, even massaging the muscles a bit afterward. My wrist rope was lowered next, and I sank gratefully to the floor.
She allowed me to rest a few minutes, waiting for me to recover, until I finally knelt before her. At her bidding, I fetched drinks for us both.
It was time for the second hour.
As I layed on my stomach, my legs were spread wide by a bar almost four feet long. I noted, ominously, that it had an eyebolt in its middle. The bar was pulled toward my shoulders, and my wrist-shackles were locked to the bar, again at its ends. I was blindfolded, then I heard the sound of something being snapped onto the bar at its middle. I shook in fear, anticipating pain soon to come.
It came soon indeed, as the bar was hoisted up. My wrists and ankles, spread by the four foot bar, held my weight. I screamed momentarily, until I felt the bar lowered again somewhat. She had placed a small footstool under my stomach, and it now supported half my weight.
I heard the sound of something being moved near my face. It might have been cushions, or a small piece of furniture; I couldn't tell. She said nothing. Soon though, I smelled an all-too-familiar odor, the odor of her pussy. I groaned in my frustration, knowing I would not be allowed to come this night. She laughed, but did nothing.
She watched T.V. Some minutes into the hour, I felt her hand in my hair as she spoke to me. "Just because you're under punishment, there's no reason you can't pleasure me at the same time. Lick!" She pulled my face down a few inches, by the hair, my body swaying down in its semi-suspension and forced my mouth onto her cunt. I licked, as her arousal quickly built. "Bring me off soon, cunt-licker, or do you want to lose your footstool?" I had had a brief taste of what full suspension would feel like in this position. Fearful, I redoubled my efforts and brought her to a full orgasm moments later. The performance was repeated several times before the hour ended.
To my horror, she again hoisted me up high, well off the stool, and left me there. I screamed openly, in agony, as the pain of my long-strained limbs was multiplied. A minute or two later, I was lowered to the floor.
She released all my limbs, allowing me a good fifteen minutes to stretch and loosen my muscles. She then ordered me to prepare a dinner of simple sandwiches. I served her food, leaving mine on the tray. I knew I was being baited--I had been prohibited from eating until my third punishment hour had been served. I did not fall for the trap.
For the final hour, she applied the stiff, leather discipline helmet. It locked on, and was followed by an almost redundant posture collar. A forearm sheath united my arms behind me, and a short knee-spreader completed the package. Then she spoke: "I'm going to change clothes. Your last hour begins when I return."
I knelt alone. It might have been an hour, for all I knew, but it was probably little more than fifteen or twenty minutes. This last restraint, mercifully, was nowhere near as severe as the preceeding ordeals, but I reserved judgement. When she returned, I'd find out how much worse it could get.
She had changed into her leather merry widow. I knew from its smell of fresh leather, and from the straps she attached to my helmet. She got comfortable, then tightened the straps.
My mouth and nose were drawn forcefully into her cunt. I felt a light snap on my ass, probably from her quirt, and heard her simple command, one which was becoming more familiar each day: "Lick!"
I spent the next hour obeying that command. Occasionally, when my tongue tired, I would feel the quirt again. When she wanted a shift in my attentions, she would change her position, drawing my lips to her clitoris or vagina as she desired. When she came, I would drink down her juice and continue my efforts. She forced me to lick and suck constantly throughout the hour, as my spread knees grew sore and my arms slowly numbed. My cock, erect the entire time, was imprisoned in the chastity belt, and my butt-plug was a constant reminder of my enslavement.
At the end of that last hour, she removed the helmet straps, but left the helmet itself locked on me. My knee-spreader was removed, but the forearm sheath remained in place.
She fed me my sandwiches through the mouth opening in the helmet. It was an exercise in my dependence on her as my vision was lost and I had no arms. Even with my legs now free, I would not dare to even rise to my feet without her firm hand on my leash to guide me. I was aroused, stiff and sore, thoroughly punished and fully compliant.
At bedtime, there was no conversation. My forearm sheath was removed and my wrists were locked to my posture collar. The helmet remained locked on all night. Although she did not gag me, she did close the mouth opening after I had serviced her for one final pleasure by mouth. Plugged, chastity-belted and cut off from the world, I was chained on the floor at the foot of her bed.
12/31
It was interesting that I was quickly becoming used to sleeping on the floor. Although my enforced chastity caused pain in my cock and balls, my body per se was enduring well.
Blinded by the leather discipline helmet, I awoke to the pressure of my Mistress' thighs around my head. I made to extend my tongue, then realized--she had not released the mouth opening in my helmet. I breathed her scent deeply, when I could get air, and felt her flesh through the leather, but I could not taste her.
She left me and used the john. Returning, she released my collar chain, brought me to my knees and moved my wrists to behind my back. She sat on the bed and, with a leash, drew me again to her cunt. This time, she opened the helmet to expose my mouth. Yes, this was a cleaning as well as a pleasuring--she had not used the toilet paper after her piss. I found, to my humiliation, I was becoming accustomed to that taste. Soon, it would arouse me as well. With a shudder, I recalled the piss drink at the restaurant. Yes, I was being trained thoroughly.
With her pussy cleaned and her orgasm imminent, she stopped and removed my discipline helmet. I was greeted by the sight of her open cunt at my face. I continued my labors and soon brought her to orgasm.
She released my chastity belt, removed my anal dildo and switched me into the cock cage. I recalled the fact that I would not be allowed an orgasm today, at least until the new year began at midnight. She forced me to clean the dildo by mouth, then she released all my restraints except for the cock cage. "Take your shower, slave, and make your morning abolutions. Then, report to the living room." She turned and swept out of the room.
I finished in the bathroom quickly. Unfortunately, I found no towels on the rack. For some reason, Mistress had obviously removed them. So I did my best to eliminate the excess water on my body with my bare hands, even squeezing my hair partially dry. I walked to just outside the living room door, then dropped to my knees and crawled in.
She was dressed in one of my favorite outfits. A red bikini top of thin, sheer, silky material barely covered her nipples while it presented her breasts to maximum advantage. Her panties, in the same diaphanous material, had a snap-on panel that could be removed to expose her cunt. She wore a garter belt, red lace stockings and her highest black patent leather opera pumps, with six inch heels.
She pointed to a towel spread out in the middle of the floor. I crawled to it and knelt upon it, still wet. Wordlessly, she fastened leather cuffs to my wrists. The cuffs were attached to opposite ends of a two foot long metal bar. She then lowered a rope from a winch directly above me and connected its end to the center of the bar. She hoisted me up until my heels left the floor. My toes still carried some of my weight. Finally, she deemed it proper to speak to me.
"We'll be having lots of fun today, and you'll be training and working hard. For the first item on the agenda, a lesson called, 'Appreciating the privilege of using a towel'. You must understand that you will not always be allowed to dry with a towel. Now, you will not be permitted to do so. You are going to drip-dry."
I hung by my wrists, alone. Mistress would periodically come and inspect me, feeling my arms and legs with her hands to check on my progress. Perhaps an hour into my bondage, she commented, "You're drying well, but you're still wet in your ass-crack. And your balls aren't getting enough air."
She went to the kitchen and returned a moment later with two large fruit juice cans. She stood them on the floor about four feet apart, on either side of me. She then went to the winch and cranked me up another six inches. I howled at the renewed pain in my already stretched arms and shoulders, until I realized Mistress' intentions. Straining, I located the cans with my toes and, stretching my legs to the limit, got some of my weight onto them. I noted that the edges of the cans dug painfully into my toes and would cause me increasing pain as time passed. "You should appreciate my mercy, slave. Now, your balls will dry much more quickly!"
I moaned deeply, but said, "Thank you, Mistress."
Now, I was indeed spread wide open. So wide, in fact, that I felt the interior of my asshole being subjected to the light drafts in the room. Still, it took another forty-five minutes to dry my flesh, and before my hair dried to Mistress' satisfaction, I had hung nearly three hours.
She released me and had me prepare a light brunch. We ate silently, with me kneeling at her feet, my wrists locked behind me, eating from a bowl on the floor like a dog. When we finished, she said, "I'm not in the mood to torture you at the moment. I'd just like to have you in view where I can enjoy watching you. Bring your cage in here, now!"
Several minutes later, I was locked in the cage. My wrists were rejoined behind me, and I was naked, kneeling on the floor of the cage. For reasons I would only learn later, she put my posture collar around my neck before locking me in. Soon, I found myself hoisted into the air again.
She sat down and read for awhile, perhaps half an hour. Soon, bored, she went into the bedroom and returned with some articles that caused me to shudder in fear.
She held two dildos. Both were an inch and a half in diameter and close to a foot long. Suddenly, my ass, wedged against one side of the cage, and my mouth, forced by the posture collar against the opposite side, both felt quite vulnerable.
She thrust one dildo into my mouth first. Perhaps three inches went past my lips, pushing against the back of my throat. She then took a rubber strap, one with hooks attached to either end, and knotted the middle of the strap around the base of the dildo. She then latched the hooks onto the bars of the cage. This had the effect of forcefully thrusting the dildo into my mouth. I quickly found that if I tried to push it out with my tongue, the straps would tighten and shove it back in again. The posture collar would keep me from turning my head to avoid it.
As I contemplated these difficulties, Mistress surprised me by thrusting the second dildo into my ass. Again, she used the strap to put tension on it, and I soon knew that it would penetrate me deeper over a period of time, slowly working its way in. My ordeal continued; Mistress returned to her reading.
I suffered. My muscles were cramped, and my knees ached where they rested on the bars of the floor of the cage. The dildo in my ass, while not painful, was stimulating me in a degrading fashion. Periodically, my ass muscles would contract, involuntarily, forcing the dildo out an inch or two. When my muscles relaxed, the rubber strap would instantly thrust it in again, deeper than before, almost like being fucked in the ass. Since the muscle contractions were regular, perhaps several times a minute, the counter-thrusts were also regular, and they soon had me becoming erect in my cock cage, torturing my cock, which had not had an orgasm for a day and a half.
Worse, the dildo in my mouth added to my humiliation, and through that, to my stimulation. When I would try to force it out to relieve the pressure on the back of my throat, it too was thrust back in, forcefully. I was pinned between two rubber cocks, being fucked by them at both ends, while my own real cock was tortured in its denial. Worst of all, my Mistress watched my humiliation, casually, looking up from her book every minute or two, smiling. I remained there at least an hour and a half before Mistress decided to make things still worse.
She left again and returned with a large candlestick. As she placed it on the floor beneath my cage, I noted that its tip was a bit over a foot below the cage bottom. Fearfully, I watched as she struck a match and lit it. In a few seconds, I felt its heat building under my balls and ass. In a few more seconds, I was in pain, and screamed, fearful of her intentions.
She took the cage by its corner and began slowly turning it. I felt the heat from the candle as it swept various parts of my body, my thighs, knees, chest and face. As I was turned, I noticed the rope supporting the cage being wound up and the cage rising a bit, perhaps two or three inches. She must have turned the cage almost thirty revolutions before she released it.
Slowly, the cage began rotating on its own, in the opposite direction, moved only by gravity. As it turned, I continued to feel the heat of the candle flame as various parts of my body passed over it.
The cage slowly picked up speed until it made a full turn in just over a second. Soon, it unwound the rope completely, and as it continued turning, started rewinding it in the opposite direction. It took several minutes for each cycle, winding the rope by inertia, then unwinding it again as gravity took hold. Each cycle, it made a couple turns less than the previous cycle, and it gradually lost speed.
As it slowed down, I became more conscious of the flame from the candle. As Mistress watched intently, I began reacting to the occasional pain now generated by the heat as it swept under my most sensitive areas. Adding to my pain was the action of the two dildos, which still forced their way into my mouth and ass, stimulating me as they humiliated me.
Eventually, the cage slowed to almost a stop. I began moaning with the pain from the heat, as it spent more and more time each sweep directly under my swollen balls.
"Getting a little warm, dear?"
I could only moan in desperation. My balls, filled with a day and a half's worth of come, ached badly, and the heat made it worse. I knew that I would not be allowed an orgasm until at least midnight, perhaps longer.
"Would a drink help cool you down?"
Again, I only moaned. Taking nothing for granted, I presumed she was concocting my next ordeal already.
To my horror, she left the room. The candle flame was currently roasting my lower legs, my asscheeks and my balls. I knew in minutes the cage would be stopped altogether and my balls would be exposed to the heat continuously.
She returned as the cage stopped, and she put out the flame just as I began to scream around the dildo in my mouth. I couldn't quite see what she brought with her, but I knew it would not bode well for me.
She freed me from the dildos and from the cage. I knelt before her, and she switched my handouffs for the leather shackles which she joined with chains in front of me. Ankle shackles were added, with more chain, until I sported well over ten pounds of steel to keep me under control. I was then made to clean my anal dildo by mouth.
The posture collar was left on. Standing before me, she added an additional harness to my head, one I had not seen before. It included several leather straps and supported a metal arm with a hook at its end which projected several inches above the front of my face. She thrust another dildo into my mouth, using additional straps on the head harness to secure it. I suddenly realized, with some fear, that this was the dildo equipped with the feeder tube.
She sat and looked at me for awhile, considering. Then she said, "No. It looks good, but there's still something missing. She left the room and returned shortly with what would prove to be my uniform for the rest of the day.
She fixed me into the heavy-duty leather corset. She went through several stages of tightening it, until my back was stiff as a board and my lower torso was squeezed so badly I could hardly breathe. Garters hung from the bottom of the corset, and these were not left idle. Removing my ankle shackles, I was made to put on some red seamed stockings, lacy ones with a floral pattern.
I was then fitted with opera pumps, with six inch heels, matching the ones Mistress herself currently wore. I was still clumsy walking in them, but I would learn under the whip. The shoe locks were employed, and my chains reconnected to them. Mercifully, the tube from my cock gag was left hanging.
She took a pencil and paper and began drawing up a list of jobs for me to take care of. The list was long and would take the bulk of the day to finish.
"You'll remain dressed and restrained as you are until all the work is finished to my satisfaction. At the completion of each hour, I'll be adding something to your accessories to motivate you. Get to work!"
That was it. The list contained chores like laundry, dishes, cleaning several rooms, remaking her bed, polishing the living room furniture, even changing several sets of drapes. The first hour went very quickly, whereupon she installed a rather large dildo in my ass. Now I would be gently stroked as I walked, restimulating my already tortured cock in its cage. For the second hour, she attached a strap to my balls, tightening it severely. A chain hung down from the strap which supported a round metal ball, almost three inches in diameter, weighing a good six or eight pounds. It stretched my balls painfully as I moved, and its swinging renewed my pain constantly. Worse, I noticed as it bounced against my thighs, its circumference was ringed with short needles which would stick into me painfully each time it made contact. Now, I would learn to walk more gracefully.
At the third hour, she had me service her with my mouth. Just before she came, my anal dildo suddenly started vibrating! I groaned piteously as I licked her, and she came quickly, amused at my suffering. As I finished cleaning her, she quipped, "Next hour, you get the feeder bag, then it will be half a dozen with the cane each hour until you're done!"
I shuddered in fear. I still wasn't totally sure how she'd employ the bag, although I had suspicions. But the cane I knew well. I would be doing well to finish all the work in four hours, notwithstanding my handicaps. I would certainly be caned at least twice.
The drapes were changed, all the work in the bedroom was done, the bathroom was immaculate. The dishes and laundry were both taken care of. The next hour ended just as I finished waxing the kitchen floor and was about to start the living room.
She stood before me, holding the feeder bag. Without a word, she removed the panel from her panties, exposing her pussy inches away from my face. She held the bag beneath her and began pissing into it. In seconds, she finished, the bag full. Briefly, she removed my dildo gag and allowed me to clean her thoroughly with lips and tongue before replacing it. Smiling, she hung the bag from the hook on my head harness. Slowly, she connected the feeder gag tube to the valve at the bottom of the bag. She looked straight into my eyes as she opened the valve, watching as the first drops passed into the feed tube. We both waited, her standing before me as I knelt at her feet, until the piss made its slow journey down the tube to my gag.
I began to swallow her piss. Mistress watched the first few swallows, enjoying my facial expressions as I reacted to the acrid taste I would have to bear for the next few hours. I remained kneeling before her, humiliated, until she dismissed me.
The bag hung directly in front of my face. I would have to move cautiously to avoid dislodging it from its hook; damaging the bag setup, or spilling its contents would most certainly earn much more severe punishments. With the bag partially obstructing my vision, it would make my movements even more difficult, notwithstanding my anal dildo, chains, the spiked ball and my six inch heels.
It took close to an hour to polish all the living room furniture, and I still had to do the rugs and wax the hardwood floors. The instant that hour ended, Mistress summoned me to the bedroom. She was well-prepared.
My ankle chain was temporarily removed, and my ankles were spread wide to the bed's footposts and locked in place. There was a stack of pillows at the bottom of the bed; I draped myself over them and extended my wrists high toward the head of the bed where Mistress locked them with a chain connected to the headboard.
Having satisfactorily secured me for punishment, she quickly took position at my ass, brandishing the cane. She said nothing, but just smiled as I looked back at her in fear. I was still gagged, and my feeder bag still hung from its hook. I would again have to be cautious to avoid an accident with the bag.
The cane struck, hard. I screamed around my gag as my entire body flexed with the pain. The second stroke followed soon after--this was a true punishment, not an exercise in my submission, so she did not allow me time to adjust to the pain load. The entire half dozen took less than a minute. I screamed throughout, was in tears when it finished, and I was required to resume my duties immediately.
The drapes took over half an hour. Already, I knew myself condemned to receive the second half dozen. I managed to finish all but one rug, and still had the hardwood floors to do when she approached me with the cane.
This time, there was no need to move to another room. She brought me to a nearby doorway where eyebolts were mounted high on each side. I stood on two telephone books while she padlocked my wrists to the eyebolts on either side. The books were removed, and I was left standing on tiptoe. Using two snap links, my ankles were spread and attached to two more eyebolts at floor level. Now, I literally hung by my wrists.
Again, no words were necessary. After briefly caressing my previous welts with her fingertips, she swung with the cane, applying six new welts on top of the old. Again, I screamed throughout. And when my second caning ended, I was again required to resume my duties.
Some minutes later, my feeder bag was nearly empty. It had occurred to me that she continued to drink through much of my work period. Now, her plan was clear. She came into the living room and summoned me to kneel before her.
Undoing the top of the bag, she opened it and refilled it with her piss, inches in front of me. She restored the bag, then shut the valve and removed my cock gag.
"Clean me, slave!"
My tongue found its way inside her, cleaning her thoroughly, then bringing her to orgasm. Although her tastes were again distinct, they were less of a shock to me, since I had already been wearing the feeder bag for over two hours. What was more humiliating was my arousal. Only at the end of the cunnilingus, when she neared orgasm, was the piss taste finally gone. As she came, flooding my mouth with her pure nectar, that taste I now loved so much more predominated, causing my erection to return and swell painfully against the confining rings of my cock cage. As that pain caught up with me, I remembered that I had not come for almost forty-eight hours and would not be allowed orgasm until at least midnight. I felt truly degraded, particularly after I cleaned her a second time, and she immediately replaced my feeder bag, now full once again.
Again, the bag now held well over a pint of her piss. Looking at it, we both realized that at the current flow rate, it would take a good three hours to empty.
"This won't do. I'll need your mouth again soon."
I knew her too well to anticipate mercy. She reached down and turned the valve, increasing the flow. Now, I had to swallow every two or three seconds.
"The bag comes off when its empty. If I have to piss again before you finish the bag, I'll add it to your supply. On the other hand, you may find that if you suck hard on that rubber cock, you might be able to drink it all down a lot sooner. Try it now and see."
I did. Stepping down yet another step on the degrading road to which I had committed myself, I sucked hard on the cock gag. As predicted, it did increase the flow of piss into my mouth. I might be able to drink down the bag in half an hour if I worked hard.
"Good, slave. Now, go get me a large lemonade, then return to your work."
As I served her the drink, I noted the time. My latest punishment, oral service and getting her lemonade took over twenty minutes. If I didn't finish the rugs, the last portion of my assigned chores, in the next forty minutes, I would be punished again with another half dozen with the cane. Also, until I finished the piss in the feeder bag, I'd be vulnerable to receiving another refill. Giving her one more fearful glance as she started drinking her lemonade, I tore into the rugs.
...Too quickly, unfortunately. I still wore the same accoutrements I wore hours earlier. The spiked ball took a funny bounce as I moved, forcefully striking and piercing my left thigh and pulling painfully on my balls with its weight. In reaction to the pain, hobbled by my chains and thrown off balance by the six inch heels still locked on my feet, I fell hard to the floor.
Mistress was on me in seconds with the cat-o-nine tails. "Clumsy! Can't you even walk right?! How much training do you need to just stay on your feet?..." Every other word was punctuated by the cat; my ass, thighs, back and chest all suffered their share.
"That gear was supposed to come off you when you finish the work. Now, you'll wear it until midnight!"
I shuddered. Midnight was still almost eight hours away. I worked hard, but as I started the last rug, Mistress appeared, smiling, holding the cane and checking her watch.
"You're still not done. You've earned another half dozen. But I'll need you soon for other duties, and I don't want to delay you. Keep working, I'll cane you as you continue."
I practically cried. This would clearly extend the time of my correction, spreading out the pain. It would be more painful, since I could not struggle against my restraints. Worst of all, it would likely earn me additional punishment if I fell or dropped anything.
The first stroke landed as soon as I turned toward my intended work. The pain was devastating, causing me to scream and drop to one knee. She apparently enjoyed my reaction, as she did not punish me. I had rolled up a rug, picked it up and was carrying it on one shoulder as the second stroke fell. I screamed again, tottering on my heels, and fell, dropping the rug. Mistress laughed, still enjoying the show.
As I knelt and layed the rug out in position, she administered two more strokes. Again, I screamed piteously, now in tears. I would have begged if my mouth was not under punishment itself.
"Slave!"
I turned and faced her, still kneeling.
"Stand, link your hands behind your head, and spread your legs!"
I obeyed, the spiked ball swinging, renewing the pain in my balls.
"I'm going to give you the last two strokes as you stand. If you take them without breaking position, I'll allow you to empty your bag quickly and remove it. If you fail, I'll refill your bag again, and you'll get another half dozen while chained. Understood?"
She was not bargaining. She was laying down the law. I nodded my head and prayed silently for the strength.
When the first stroke hit I screamed so loud, in spite of the gag, I felt it could be heard blocks away. The spiked ball swung wildly, cutting at my thighs and nearly tearing my balls off. The second stroke hit quickly, renewing and increasing all my pain, bringing me again to tears. Somehow, although I felt dizzy from the pain, I held position.
"Well done, slave. Kneel and face me, for your reward."
I obeyed. She reached down and opened the valve on the piss feeder all the way. My "Reward" was the right to drink down her piss in seconds, rather than over a longer period. I emptied the bag in moments, and it was, mercifully, removed along with the cock gag.
I humbled myself saying, "Thank you, Mistress, for a most effective correction." I bent to kiss her feet, but she pushed my face away with her toe. "Not with that piss-mouth, slave. If you wish to show your devotion, you may use your tongue in my asshole!"
She turned. I buried my face between her ass-cheeks, and my tongue found its way far inside her ass. "Keep it there, tongue-slave!" I continued working at her as she approached orgasm. She turned and drew me into her cunt with a handful of my hair. "Finish what you started, slut!" I sucked her clit until she had a major orgasm, then I sucked her clean.
My erection returned again, painful in the cage. As I was allowed to rise and return to the last of my chores, the weight on my tortured balls reminded me again of my own denial, my submission and enslavement.
The rest of the work was completed without incident. Now, I was feeling hungry, as was Mistress herself. She ordered dinner prepared: soup, a souffle, parboiled vegetables and a light dessert. It was funny, in a way. Having finished my work ordeal, I was "Freed" to do my regular chores, in this case cooking, while wearing slave chains, a posture collar, a butt-plug, an eight-pound spiked ball hanging from my scrotum, plus my usual cock cage.
At dinner, Mistress indulged another whim. She had made a number of purchases of new equipment since our initial shopping trip, and this was one of them. It was a table-stock. Essentially, a small table hung by chains from the ceiling. It was cut down the middle and had openings for my neck and wrists, like a pillory. My collar and wrist restraints were removed and I was locked into it. The table was set and the food at hand as the lock snapped shut. I knelt, with both our plates inches from my face. I watched Mistress eat her dinner, while mine cooled, untouched. She ate slowly, enjoying both the food and my obvious hunger and took close to half an hour to finish. She then left the table and took her favorite chair to watch TV and relax.
I was kept locked in the stock for over an hour after she left me, hungry, my dinner right under my nose. Finally, she released me, locked my wrists behind my back, then had me eat her to orgasm.
I spent another twenty minutes bringing her off. Then and only then did she place my plate on the floor and allow me to eat my now-cold dinner without the use of my hands. Interestingly, I spilled my soup in the process of eating. I expected Mistress to come at me like a fire-storm, but she was very mellow. Her only words were, "Two demerits!"
I shuddered. My ass was already thoroughly welted, and I was pushing two days since my last orgasm. I also had spent the better part of the day in one form of restraint or another. I would have to serve very carefully to avoid any further demerits.
She brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses. She then switched my restraints for the wrist-to-neck harness. "I want your ass available, and you won't be needing your hands." She took her chair again, and I noticed a number of toys available for her entertainment.
She restrained me in a leg-spreader, one which spread my ankles about four feet apart. She then applied my rubber discipline helmet. I was blinded and would soon begin sweating profusely in the warm room.
I was made to kneel facing away from her, my ass high and my face to the floor. I knew my anus was opened wide, and I was vulnerable to what I anticipated would be a whipping. I listened for tell-tale sounds to indicate what would be her choice of weapons.
Surprisingly, I heard what sounded like a broomstick, then the sound of duct tape being torn from a roll. What was happening?
I was shocked to feel a well-greased dildo entering my ass. She had taken a dildo measuring about an inch by twelve inches and taped it to the end of the broomstick. Now, seated casually in the chair, she was using it to fuck my ass. For some minutes the stroking continued, eliciting my groans of frustration to the interesting background of the New Year's celebrations beginning on TV. Soon, my groans grew quieter as I adjusted to the size of the dildo. Then, it stopped.
"This won't do! You can hardly feel this one!"
Leaving the dildo embedded in my ass, she removed the duct tape attaching it to the broomstick. I heard more tape, then suddenly the dildo was yanked out and another one was shoved hard into my ass.
I screamed once with the shock of it--this one was larger, a good inch and a half across. Now, I moaned deeply on each and every stroke. And my cock, stimulated by my strenuous ass-fucking, remained erect within its torturous cage, punishing me.
For close to an hour she continued. When she finally did remove it, I could feel the air currents in the room far inside my now wide opened ass. With the leg spreader still in place, I would remain opened. Soon, she replaced my butt plug, with a larger one this time, and locked on its harness.
Two quick, hard strokes from a cat-o-nine tails caught me off guard. My ass lowered somewhat, and I would have fallen over if my ankles were not bound so far apart.
"To your knees, cunt-sucker!"
Struggling, I managed to regain an upright position on my knees in spite of my restraints.
"Bring your mouth here--I wish to use it!"
Just turning was torturous. Try crawling on your knees with your ankles spread four feet apart and an eight pound weight swinging from your balls. And then, I had to locate my Mistress with my sight blocked by the rubber helmet and my hearing severely reduced.
She had stepped behind me, and she suddenly tightened the strap connecting my wrists to my collar. Now, my wrists were two inches higher than they were, and my shoulders began feeling the strain.
The whip guided me to her pussy, and the straps she connected from her rubber merry widow to my helmet kept my head perfectly positioned to service her. I began to lick.
Isolated within the helmet, I could only taste her pussy. My sight was gone, my hearing severely impaired. My hands were lost to me, straining my arms as my wrists were pulled high up my back. My legs, spread wide, opened my penetrated ass to its dildo and exposed my balls, stretched by the weight.
For a good hour and a half, I serviced her. Still aroused, I continued responding to my own need. My cock pulsed, and the cage would torture it further. My balls would jerk against their weight, and my ass would constrict against the dildo buried within me. The pain would distract me from my service, and Mistress would correct me with a whipstroke, or an upward tug on my wrist harness, or a yank on my helmet straps.
Soon, I began to see, not for the first time, the lesson in this. I had to devote myself totally to the pleasure of my Mistress. Any acknowledgement of my own needs caused pain. My needs must be set aside. I must be a slave.
The New Year arrived. Mistress stopped the action and removed all my restraints, even the cock cage. A single look from her was warning enough-if I so much as touched my cock, I'd be punished severely and probably not allowed my orgasm.
She handed me both the dildos she had used in my ass. No commands were necessary; still kneeling, I cleaned them both by mouth.
"Congratulations! You are now fully enslaved. There will be no more turning back."
"Thank you, Mistress." I kissed her feet.
"Take all your restraints to the bedroom!"
She chained me by my spread ankles to the foot of the bed, lying on the floor. My posture collar was installed and my wrists re-shackled and attached to the rear link of the collar.
"Now, slave, I can't just dispense pleasure to a slave-in-training without maintaining discipline. When we finish, your cock will be locked into its cage, and you will remain bound as you are for the night.
"But there must be more. I will give you three items to choose from: your large dildo, the three inch ball stretcher, and the piss feeder. Pick two, and you will wear them overnight as well. Hesitate, and you'll wear all three and not be allowed to come."
I thought quickly. I must be trained well, with items which would remind me of my position. The piss feeder would do so, as would the dildo. The ball stretcher would likely prevent my ejaculation and would be too painful to sleep in.
"Mistress, please use the dildo and the feeder gag."
"A good choice, slave!"
She inserted the dildo immediately. It was the larger one from before, realistically shaped, an inch and a half in diameter and close to eight inches long. She strapped it in tightly, burying it entirely and locked it in.
She brought the feeder setup over, then opened the bag. Again, inches from my face, she pissed into the bag, filling it once more to its top. She sealed it, then set it aside.
"Now slave, clean me, then suck me off!"
She sat hard on my face. With my arms raised and my wrists locked behind my posture collar, my mouth was well positioned to receive her cunt. Kneeling across my folded arms, she kept me perfectly in position. Fresh from her piss, I cleaned her thoroughly first with my tongue.
I serviced her for a good half hour, licking whatever part of her cunt presented itself. When her clitoris was thrust at me, I'd lick it rapidly, the way I knew she liked, with quick tongue strokes to its underside, alternating with an occasional slow suck from my lips. When her vagina or her asshole met my mouth, I'd bury my tongue as far as it would penetrate as well as sucking when I could. I drank a great deal of her juice and brought her to orgasm at least three or four times over fifteen minutes. She then turned, facing my lower body, and remounted my mouth. Seconds later, I felt a sharp stroke of her small cat-o-nine tails directly on my cock. Helpless to protest, I continued sucking her, as she gave me additional whipstrokes every thirty seconds or so. The pain was intense, and I knew she was welting my cock, even contacting my balls on occasion. With two frustrated days worth of come stored in them, they took the worst of it. With her stimulated by her own sadism, she brought herself to two more orgasms as she continued to ride my face. Amazingly, as intense as the pain was in my cock, I also found the whipstrokes stimulating. I began to see the possibility of being literally whipped to orgasm.
That was not to be tonight, however. She rose and buckled a wide strap around my cock and balls. "I can't have you coming too quickly, slave. I want a good ride on you, first. Perform well, and I'll release your strap."
She mounted me and dropped down, hard. Unfortunately, the strap brought my balls up into a prominent position where Mistress' weight landed on them at the bottom of each stroke. Now I had to contend with the pain of my balls being partially crushed, as well as the fresh welts on my cock, and the older welts on my ass which were being slammed into the bare hardwood floor. My dildo, overfilling my ass, added to my discomfort.
As she had done before, she sometimes stopped all her motion and demanded, "Fuck me, stud!" I had to use all my strength, fighting the pain, and thrust upward against her weight, torturing myself in order to bring us both pleasure. At other times, she'd take the initiative and pound down hard on me, crushing me, making me cry out in pain and frustration. Through it all, with the strap tightly wrapped around my cock and balls, I could not come, and my erection would be maintained until she released me.
Finally, she had a major orgasm. I felt like she was driving me through the floor as she came and wondered if my own plumbing would still work properly when she finally finished. Smiling, she looked down at me, and with one hand, unbuckled my strap. Without rising, she brutally pulled the strap off, causing it to severely bruise my already chafed flesh and causing me to scream loudly.
"Okay, lover. Fill my cunt with your come so I can feed it back to you!"
I moaned, both in frustration and in anticipation of my upcoming humiliation. I moaned again, when I realized she was not going to move to assist me in coming--she would again be a dead weight on my cock, which, exhausted as I was, I would have to lift with my strength on each stroke.
It took me perhaps a minute to come. In spite of her weight, in spite of my restraints, my dildo and my welts, I thrashed violently in orgasm, practically dislodging my Mistress, and emptied two full days worth of come into her cunt.
Without even waiting for me to catch my breath, she immediately moved up directly over my face. "Alright, slave. Now, suck it all out!" With that, she sat hard on my mouth. She even used her fingers to pull her labia apart, insuring my access to her. "More tongue, slave! Get it up inside and lick out every drop!" I obeyed, swallowing all she had to offer, both the come I placed there and her own juices.
Several times she moved up and down on me, covering my face with our mixed juices. Eventually I succeeded in cleaning her to her satisfaction. She quickly reinstalled my cock cage, then smiled down at me. "Time for the rest of your punishment gear, slave!"
I was at a momentary loss and could not remember. My legs were spread painfully wide, my wrists joined under my neck. On the bare wood floor, that alone would be an unpleasant way to spend the night. Beyond that, my ass was filled with the largest dildo it could tolerate, my cock cage was locked on and my posture collar was in place.
Then, flushing with humiliation, I remembered. She thrust the feeder gag into my mouth, the realistic, rubber cock, fed by its transparent tube. It was locked on. She hung the bag, filled with her piss, from the top of the bedpost, where we could both see it. She connected a long feeder tube from the bag to my gag. Finally, she opened the valve, just enough for a very slow drip-feed, a rate which would take the entire night to empty the bag.
She sat on the floor by my head, her pussy inches from my face. She masturbated gently with a finger as, together, we watched the yellow fluid travel slowly down the clear tube to my gag. Finally, several minutes later, the first drops of piss entered my mouth as we looked into each other's eyes. I swallowed. She wiped her fingers, now wet with her juice, under my nose, to allow me to breath her scent as I lay in punishment. I swallowed again as she said, "Good night, my slave!"
She got into bed. I heard her masturbate to yet one more orgasm, knowing she was watching the piss-bag which I would slowly drink down through the long night.
I was her slave. Now, it was irrevokeable. And tonight, I would not forget it. I swallowed again as I heard her moans of pleasure, feeling my returning erection pulsing hard against its cage, punishing me. I slept when I could.
1/1 and beyond...
My life as a slave now bears little resemblance to what it was when I was a free man. My wife and Mistress owns all we have--the house, cars, all our furniture, our bank accounts and investments, all are now in her name. My paychecks are made out to her as well, mailed to the house, and I never see them.
I never leave the house without at least a chastity device locked on, either the cock cage or the full chastity belt. Frequently, I also wear a butt plug, ball stretcher or some other device to torture, tease or humiliate me. I have only female undergarments now, and more often than not wear her soiled panties as well, around my neck, with a locked chain to hold them there.
Mistress always selects my clothes. She prefers me in tight pants in public, ones which show off my ass and squeeze my perennially swollen balls. In the house, there is a small foyer just inside the front door. I must put on any outer clothing there on the way out and remove it there on the way back in. Inside the foyer, I haven't worn male clothes since the New Year.
The housework has become routine for me. When I return home from work, if I am not summoned for service or punishment, I immediately wash all the laundry, clean the bathroom and living room then start the cooking for dinner, according to the menu Mistress leaves out for me. After dinner, I do the dishes, clean the kitchen, den and bedroom, then proceed to any special chores Mistress assigns.
My regular work uniform consists of my chastity belt, collar, a medium sized dildo, wrist and ankle shackles and a ringed waist belt. I must wear stockings and a garter belt, and shoes with at least four inch heels. Frequently, Mistress denies me even the female lingerie and I work naked except for my restraints. Alternatively, she might have me wear a more elaborate costume, or extremely high heels, or more severe restraints. Once, she had me clean the entire bathroom while blinded by a rubber discipline helmet. She pissed directly on the floor just before I started, and I worked naked, on my hands and knees, until it sparkled.
On a daily basis, she will place me in my "Tie". I am put in some sort of severe restraint, fixed in place, generally for an hour. While restrained, I might be whipped, fucked in my ass, forced to service Mistress orally or otherwise tortured. Whatever the variation, the exercise is done every day.
My mouth must be available constantly to service Mistress on demand, regardless of any other duties or time commitments. If that service causes one of my other responsibilities to fall short, I am still punished.
When Mistress summons me for any reason, I must be kneeling at her feet, my lips to her toes, in thirty seconds. Each second over that costs me a stroke of the crop. If I fail to be satisfying enough with my cunnilingus, I am given five demerits and the loss of my next scheduled orgasm. If I encounter problems in enduring any abuse or punishment, the remainder of such punishment is doubled and I am given additional demerits.
If I fail to address her as ''Mistress", it costs me two demerits. Breaking an assigned position also earns me a pair, as does wearing any unauthorized article of clothing under any circumstances. If I touch my cock without specific orders to do so, it costs me five demerits.
Speaking of which, I am only allowed three orgasms a week, under ideal circumstances, on Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday nights. She has experimented with this, allowing me as little as one orgasm a week. She says our current pace maximizes my arousal. I agree.
On nights when I'm denied orgasm, I remain locked in my cock cage or chastity belt and do without. Nevertheless, I service Mistress upon waking, just before leaving for work, upon returning home from work and just before sleeping, in addition to any other times Mistress may demand the use of my mouth.
Friday night is punishment night. If I have any outstanding punishments on my record, they are all paid off that night. It starts with my regular slave's whipping, a traditional dozen with the cane, which I always receive, even when I've served perfectly. I am restrained in a tight, standing spreadeagle to receive the strokes.
Following that, I pay off my demerits. Each demerit costs me six with the cane or half an hour of puntative restraint. She usually doesn't give me more than two dozen with the cane at one stretch. If I owe more strokes, she'll give me two dozen, then wait twenty or thirty minutes before continuing. Usually, she'll combine the cane with restraint. Also, for the larger debts, she might have me pay off an additional five demerits with the loss of an orgasm.
Of course, puntative restraint is more than just being tied up. It must, in and of itself, be a punishment. A standing spreadeagle is not punishing. However, if she hoists me higher until my feet leave the floor, spreads my ankles by over four feet, then adds nipple clamps and/or several pounds of weight hanging from my balls, that would do the job. Alternatively, she might suspend me upside-down, or partially suspend me by a single ankle, or by my wrists, joined behind me and raised high. Perhaps she might spreadeagle me on the floor, on my back, install my largest ballstretcher, attach a rope to it and haul up on it until my ass is six inches off the floor. That's puntative restraint. Half an hour of it pays back one demerit.
She has intensified my piss training. The feeder gag isn't considered punishment anymore, just an exercise. Mistress hasn't used toilet paper when I've been available for months. At least once every couple of days, she commands me to drink her piss directly from her body. I have become accustomed to the taste, but the humiliation will always remain. She has also repeated the scene from the restaurant, forcing me to drink piss in public, on numerous occasions, both her piss and my own.
Once, in a department store, we were looking for stockings for both her and me. She went to the ladies room and had me wait right outside the door for her. When she emerged, she commanded, "Open!" I opened my mouth and she quickly stuffed her panties in. She said, "Close!", and I obeyed. She must have pissed right through the panties, as they were saturated. I had to keep them in my mouth until we left the store, over two hours later.
My oral servitude has become an ever-greater focus of my enslavement, reflected by our numerous purchases of related equipment and accessories. Sometimes, she wants me to bring her to orgasm with my mouth. She might use a discipline helmet, with straps connected to pull me into place between her legs. Sometimes, she'll use a ring gag to force my jaws to remain wide open, insuring that I will swallow all her juices while limiting my efforts to only the use of my tongue, thus prolonging her pleasure.
She enjoys the "Smothering" approach, as well. Many times, she'll sit on my face in bed, covering me with her full weight, making it impossible for me to breathe unless she allows it. We've also acquired a chair for the living room which conceals an opening for my head. I lay back and a wooden stock imprisons my neck. A strap holds my forehead in position, and tight cushioned pads compress the sides of my head. There is an optional blindfold available, as well. My wrist shackles are locked to eyebolts at the ends of the chair's arms, then my ankles are spread, drawn back and attached to the feet of the chair. She takes her seat and my face is buried in her pussy. This chair is Mistress' favorite, as she can spend an entire evening in it if she wishes, with my lips glued to hers for hours. At times, she'll even sleep there an hour or two, yet even then she requires my tongue to continue its dance upon her clitoris, under the threat of the whip. I have found that she awakens readily when my efforts slack, and further, my chest is quite sensitive to the cat-o-nine tails when I am bent in a severe arch such as that produced by her chair of pleasure.
Sometimes, she trains me with her scent alone, denying me her taste. She'll use the penis gag on me, then wear the rubber Mistress Pants. Buried in her cunt, I breathe only her scent, but can taste nothing but the rubber of the gag. Alternatively, she'll fix me in the chair while gagged and blindfolded, or while she wears soiled panties.
She also has several pairs of short pants made of paper thin rubber. When she sits on my face while wearing those, I can feel her warmth, feel every detail of her flesh, but again, taste only the rubber.
The double-ended cock gag also proved interesting when we brought home a couple of variations on the theme. In one, the dildo includes holes or channels through its entire length. When Mistress fucks her end of the dildo, the channels carry her juice into my mouth. I comsume her juice, have the tastes and smells forced on me throughout, yet my lips and tongue are denied her flesh. In another variation, the gag portion is equipped with a feeder tube. Used with the bag, she can fuck on my face, but I taste only her piss. Both these variations proved devastating on me when she started using her end of the dildo on her ass while facing me. This brought her cunt within an inch of my eyes and nose, where I could watch her masturbate at point-blank range and see her very juices dripping, yet I could only taste what the dildo-gag fed me, usually only piss from the bag.
A nurse she knows got her an oxygen mask. She sometimes fixes me wearing the mask then puts the other end of its feed tube where it can pick up her scent. She might simply stuff it into her pants, or perhaps set it up to pick up her piss odor. When combined with the rubber discipline helmet, the results are awesome.
Once every week or two, Mistress has her friends over for "Poker Night". I serve drinks and set up the buffet, then I am locked, blindfolded, into the face-sitting chair. Mistress sits on me, then the table's other chairs are filled by her friends. On each hand, the winner gets to use a small cat-o-nine tails to lash my chest for half a dozen strokes, then she sits in the pleasure seat. While blindfolded, I have no way of knowing whom I am servicing, except by taste and smell. The games usually go on for some hours.
How has all this affected me?
I love her, now, more than I ever did before. I am totally obsessed with her, totally dependent on her, and I spend all my waking time in devotion to her pleasure. Other than my job, she allows me no distractions. She shares me freely with her female friends, who now visit regularly to observe my punishment and partake of my slave services.
Mistress has trained me completely. Now, even subconsciously, I place her pleasure above all things. Once, when I had already been denied orgasm for three days and she was preparing me for a scheduled orgasm, she stopped suddenly, held up my cock cage and said, "I'm too tired for both of us to come tonight. Who should I allow to come, you or me?" Without a thought, I answered, "You, Mistress." She locked my cock cage on me again and used my mouth. My next orgasm was not to take place for another two days, for a total of five days of enforced chastity.
Mistress never fails to come up with original ways to tease, degrade, stimulate or humiliate me. Whether she's arousing me or punishing me, I adore her. In truth, I worship her as I do life itself. She is my fulfillment, my ultimate pleasure. And if I was asked what I might have done to improve my life, if l had it to do over again, I would answer, "The night of our marriage, I would surrender to my wife."
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