I was startled awake by the wooden crate opening. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the light, I saw the still pissed-off face of my Mistress staring down at me through the cage bars. Last night I was caught (again) attempting to pleasure myself through the openings in the steel chastity device I was locked into. This time she finally had enough of my disobedience and, as punishment, decided I would be spending the night securely locked away in the basement. So, after ordering me to strip, which I did immediately, she fitted me into a latex strait jacket. It had purposely been purchased one size too small so as to make it extremely uncomfortable when buckled. She made sure to pull the two leg straps extra tight and my painful grimace brought a sinister smile to her face. Next came a pair of steel police ankle shackles and an extra large ball gag. The gag was a harness style and she made sure the straps that buckled around my head were also pulled extra tight. Despite the fact that there was no chance of me removing them, she still placed small padlocks through all the locking straps on my straitjacket as well as on the gag, more for effect than to prevent escape. She then padlocked a thick chain to the steel collar already around my neck and, with just a nod, beckoned me to follow. Keeping up with her as we climbed down the two flights of stairs from her bedroom to the basement was difficult, hobbled by the short chain, but angry as she was, I knew better than to do anything but stay closely behind. After all, the last thing I wanted to do was to give her a reason to be any angrier.

In the far corner of the basement is a small concrete room. This house, having been built in the 1950’s, had the room originally constructed as a fallout shelter. However, that no longer being necessary, Mistress has converted it for “other” uses. Among the items behind the locked door is a wooden crate. This is where I was going to be spending the night. Opening the lid, inside the crate, you find a heavy steel cage. I’ve never spent more than an hour or two inside – until tonight. Since it was only around 10 PM (and tomorrow was Saturday), I knew I’d be locked away for considerably longer. Of course I’ve spent the night caged many times before. She had another in the bedroom. However it was larger, with a padded floor, pillow and blanket – the Hilton compared to tonight’s accommodations. When I was kept overnight in that cage, it was never bound or gagged like this and was usually reserved for when one of her girlfriend’s were spending the night. Despite the fact that we lived together, her female submissives were always given priority over me in her bed. This crate was designed exclusively for my punishment.

Once the crate and cage doors were opened, she removed a rubber gas mask from inside and fitted it over my head. The breathing hose ran from the mask to a ventilation hole in the side of the crate. This allowed me to breath fresh air, while at the same time being kept restricted even further, since you have to breathe deeply to pull air in. She tightened down the straps, making sure I could see through the two small eye openings. Climbing carefully into the cage I laid down on my back, squirming a bit in a futile effort to get into a position of relative comfort. Unfortunately the cage is small and I had to bend my knees, keeping my feet flat on the floor, in order to fit. Taking the end of my leash, she padlocked it to a ring set in the floor of the cage. She closed the cage door, saying indifferently, “If your lucky - I’ll be back to let you out sometime tomorrow.” She slammed the crate closed, leaving me alone in total darkness.

Now, after a night that seemed to last forever, she had returned to let me out. She was clearly still annoyed and I couldn’t say I blamed her, but at least I’d be able to stretch my tired and cramped muscles. Removing the gas mask and unlocking my leash from the cage floor, she pulled me up on my feet and I stepped out of the crate. My legs felt numb from being bent all night and the returning circulation sent pins-and-needles sensations through them. After re-securing the crate she pulled me after her, out of the room and back up the stairs. As we passed through the living room, the clock on the wall read 11:45, meaning I had been locked in the crate for over 12 hours. I was brought to the bathroom where she removed my ankle shackles, straitjacket and gag. My hair was matted and my body soaked with sweat from being encased in rubber the entire night. She pointed first to the toilet, giving me permission to relieve myself. She stood watching me, tapping her foot impatiently, as I struggled to go through the embarrassment of her stare. When I finally finished, she unlocked the steel collar from around my neck and pointed at the shower. “You have ten minutes,” she said sternly, adding, “be clean and shaven – completely”. I nodded respectfully to her and stepped in.

I spent only a few seconds to enjoy the cool water cascading over me before thoroughly washing myself and beginning the process of shaving my entire body. I had to be quick but careful, if I cut myself or missed any hair it would only incur her wrath. While in the shower I could hear her walking in and out of the bathroom. Even though I couldn’t see her, I assumed she was bringing in my clothes for the day. I was rarely allowed to wear male clothes anymore, unless I was going to be out running errands for her. Even then it was generally a pair of lacey panties and low cut jeans with a tight t-shirt. I had an athletic build and she liked showing off my body, plus it had the added bonus of causing me extreme embarrassment if I had to bend over or reach up for something, since people around me could easily see what I was wearing. If I were staying home, it would still be a skimpy pair of silk or lace panties paired with just a bra or cami, although, on rare occasions, she would allow me to wear a male thong or g-string. If I was going outside, so as not to startle the neighbors, though, I was allowed to wear a Speedo-type bathing suit. Sunday, my outfit was always the same. It was cleaning day and I had my maid’s uniform, complete with gloves, garters, fishnet stockings, headpiece and shoes (after months of practice, I was now able to effectively spend the day cleaning in 6” heels). This was the same outfit I would have to wear if there were a party at the house, since I was responsible for serving the guests and cleaning up afterwards. At night I would usually be kept naked, although sometimes she enjoyed keeping me in a latex sleep sack overnight. After turning off the shower and ensuring my body was completely smooth I opened the curtain and stepped out. There were no clothes laid out on the countertop. Instead I found a pair of steel wrist and ankle cuffs, collar, and waist belt – all with locks. Next to them was a leather strap-on harness and dildo. I quickly dried myself and locked all the restraints on, then buckled the harness around my waist and between my legs. Stepping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, I found Mistress waiting for me in bed. I knelt at the bedside, head down and waited for her instructions.

“You’re going on a little trip,” she said very ominously. “You’re going to spend the remainder of the week learning some manners. Obviously I’ve become too lenient and you’ve begun to take advantage. Well, it’s time you were reminded of your place in this relationship. However, I wanted to have a little fun before we leave, so climb onto the bed and lay on your back”.

I quickly obeyed and she locked my wrists to the headboard and spread my legs, attaching my ankles to each corner of the footboard. This routine was, by far, the cruelest part of my slavery. As I had said in the beginning, the reason I found myself in trouble this weekend was because I was caught trying to touch myself again. Mistress thought she had solved the problem when she switched me from my original plastic CB to a steel one. Initially she began experimenting with my chastity a year ago. She had decided I was becoming too insubordinate, so she purchased my first CB online. When I was first placed into that one, I would be allowed out almost every day and she would allow me release every month. On the days I was allowed out, although chained so I couldn’t touch myself, she would play with and tease me. Then I would pleasure her orally and she would finish herself with my cock, before locking me away again. Although I wouldn’t be allowed to cum, I would still be free for a short while and able to enjoy the feeling of being inside her. Eventually she decided it was to bothersome to release me every day just so she could get off, so she began having me wear a strap-on harness while I remained locked away in my CB. She enjoyed this even more, knowing how frustrated I was, watching her get off on a rubber cock, while mine hung locked uselessly away just below. Then, to further emasculate me, she brought home a special kit one day. This kit enabled her to create an exact rubber replica of my own cock. Now, in addition to being chastised and forced to wear a strap-on harness, it was a replica of my own cock she was getting off on. She would joke about how much easier it would be if she just had me castrated and turned into a sissy lesbian toy for her to play with. Of course she’d never do it, she loved my sexual frustration too much. Not to mention how generally much more compliant it made me. Eventually she just stopped letting me out for my monthly release. So, after a few months of complete frustration and a little experimentation, I found that I could carefully pull my cock out of the CB and the reinsert it without her knowledge. At least, I thought it was without her knowledge. When she came home with the steel CB I am wearing now, she had said that changes in my attitude, including a rebellious streak, made her realize something was wrong. As it turns out, she had set up her web-cam to monitor me while she was at work and saw everything. This new device did prevent me from pulling out and was far stricter than the plastic one, however after a few months in this new device, I found that I could rub myself a certain way through the ventilation holes. Since this one was more like a cage and had large openings on the side, if I was patient enough, I could eventually make myself cum. This is exactly what she had caught me doing last night.

…Several orgasms later, she dismounted my rubber cock and removed the strap-on harness, buckling it around her own waist. After releasing my wrists and ankles she brought me back into the bathroom. This was her absolute favorite part of having my rubber replica, “fucking me with my own cock”, as she would say. Bending me over the counter, she kicked my legs apart. Then, using her own pussy juices as lubricant, she slowly and deeply began to fuck my ass. She held my hair in one hand, forcing me to look up at myself in the mirror while fingering herself with the other. As she brought herself to yet another orgasm, she released my hair and slowly pulled out. With a smirk she said, “You’re such a little slut” and gave me a hard smack across the cheek. She took a deep, satisfied breath and dropped the harness to the floor. “Clean yourself up, slut and be downstairs, waiting by the car, in five minutes”. She walked out of the bathroom, leaving me still bent over the sink.

I quickly cleaned myself, and the harness, before putting all the restraints away. Since Mistress never had left any clothing for me, I walked naked downstairs to the garage. She was already waiting at the back of her SUV for me, with the tailgate open. I walked quickly to her side and knelt awaiting any instructions. Not speaking, she locked the steel collar back around my neck, and then a pair of steel handcuffs locked my wrists behind my back. She motioned me into the back of the truck, which was partitioned with the type of cage used for transporting animals. Thankfully, she had placed a blanket on the floor because she had signaled for me to lie on my stomach. She locked a steel cuff to one of my ankles then looped the chain through the handcuffs, before locking the other one. The back of my collar had a ring, to which she locked another chain and ran it to the handcuffs as well. This placed me in a very uncomfortable hogtie position, which pulled my neck back, forcing my head up and forward. The last step was the insertion of a large rubber ring-gag, which held my mouth wide open. She closed the tailgate and walked to the driver’s door. After getting in and starting the engine, she finally spoke to me, “It’s going to take about an hour, so try and get some rest”. Chuckling to herself, she put on her sunglasses and drove away.

The ride was long and uncomfortable and seemed like it would never end. Finally, though, the truck turned down a long gravel driveway and came to a stop. I could hear Mistress get out and some muffled conversation, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. After several agonizing minutes, the tailgate finally opened. I turned my head enough to see her standing next to a man who was much taller and well built then me.

“Slut,” she began, “this is Master J. He has an exceptional ability to corral unruly slaves. While you were considering your behavior in the crate last night, I called and explained to him the situation. He suggested you spend the week here for a little crash course in behavior modification.”

I attempted a garbled protest but was met with a firm smack across my ass from Master J. Mistress unlocked my ankle cuffs and I was led out of the truck. My collar was still locked to my wrists and it pulled my head back, forcing me to look directly at Master J. He looked at me, then at my Mistress, and with a smile said to her, “I think we should start his training right now. What do you think, Mistress?”

She nodded in agreement and grabbed a firm hold of my collar. Master J stood directly in front of me, as Mistress forced me down onto my knees. I tried, in futility, to pull away from her, knowing now what the ring-gag was for. I tried screaming and tears began to well up in my eyes. Master J began to unzip his pants and he pulled out his already semi-hard cock. Grabbing my hair with his hands, Mistress let go of my collar. “I love to see little sluts cry the first time they suck a real cock,” he said speaking to both of us, “It’s one thing for them to suck a dildo or strap on, but their reaction to feel and taste of real flesh in their mouths and the first time a load of hot cum is forced down their throat, well it’s priceless”. He guided my open mouth towards him and as his cock entered my mouth, I could see that certain devilish smile begin to caress my Mistress’ face.

So, here I am, bound, crying and naked. I’m kneeling on the hard gravel driveway, sucking Master J’s cock while my Mistress looks on. As all of this happens the only thought I have is why couldn’t I have just behaved…