Chapter 1

As I walked into work, I was a little uncomfortable. The cock cage was resting heavily, pulling on my balls. And when I walked, it pulled, which in turn excited me, and then my cock would swell against the closely spaced wires of the cage. Also, I noticed a very quiet little "tink, tink" sound of the small lock hitting the metal every time I took a step. It was very subtle. I wondered if anyone else could hear it. If they did, I hoped they'd assume it was keys in my trousers. Suit and tie guy. The thought of discovery - but not really believing discovery was a real danger - titillated me, and excited me more. And the whole cycle would start again.

The day drifted into a fog of excitement and craving for release. I saw people around me, but they were wooden. I saw the same old boring gray office furniture, the formerly in-style gold painted walls, the fluorescent lights and the slightly ill looking house plants, heard the tap of keyboards and hushed conversations, the whoosh of the blowers that tried to make the air less stale. All those things were there, but didn't register. I focused on my predicament. By 3:00 I was wishing that I'd had the presence of mind to bring a key. But there was nothing I could do. The idea of not bringing a key had been a turn-on in the early hours, but now seemed like not the best idea. I had a meeting with my team in one of our drab, windowless conference rooms, and my boss, Melanie, was presenting. I knew this was going to be difficult, because she was a gorgeous woman.

I had constant fantasies about her. She was a few years older than me, and had just a bit of grey and blonde streaks dyed into her long, wild brown hair. She was petite, about 5'8" tall. And she always dressed just at the very edge of what was professionally acceptable. Short, tight skirts, a button too far open on her blouse. There was a teasing quality in her voice. She always wore heels that seemed precariously tall. It didn't escape me that one pair in particular, made of black patent leather, had the detail of a small pair of handcuffs on the strap. I lusted after her constantly. I pictured myself pulling up her tiny black skirt and bending her over her desk, reaching around to hold her soft breasts, fucking her slowly from behind.

Anyway, it was difficult to concentrate on her presentation as she walked around in front of us, breasts lifting and falling under a white blouse, catching glimpses of her lacy bra underneath at her shoulders, with my thoughts focused on fucking her. My swollen cock strained against the birdcage. I was uncomfortably self-conscious. Finally, it was over and I closed my notebook and started to leave.

She said, "Phil, can I have a word with you in my office?" I said, "Sure," and followed her, appreciating the view of her toned ass in the short, tight black skirt, down the hall to her office. She walked in, let me sit down, and then closed the heavy maple door behind us, standing behind me for a moment silently. We were alone. My heart was beating, and I tried to control my breath.

She sat down behind her desk - really a modern sort of table in an "L" shape made of fake wood held up by black posts. Her greenish blue eyes looked at me steadily for a moment. I couldn't meet her gaze. She sighed. Then, "Phil, you're a masturbator, are you not." It was not a question. She raised an eyebrow and inclining her head slightly to the left, amused.

I was caught! Oh! My! God! Instantly I was frozen. My heart was in my throat. My face flushed. She went on. "Oh yes. I see I was right. I can read people pretty well, Phil. And your lustful little thoughts are written all over your face. You've been looking at me - probably having all kinds of twisted little fantasies about me. Am I right?" I was still stupefied with fear, and at the same time excited by what was happening.

What happened before

I'd put myself into this situation. I was 33 and I'd been divorced for about six months. Freed from my horrible ex, I'd been doing what I imagine a lot of sexually perverted (and I say that in only the most positive way) do. I'd subscribed to not one, not two, but three very nasty port magazines. This was a few years ago, and at the time there was a sort of Netflix of porn. I'd signed up for that, too. I'd stepped up my workouts and lost 25 lbs. and I was looking and feeling as good as I had in years. I kept every inch of my body cleanly shaved except for ¼" on my head.

From the time I was a teenager, I'd loved to practice self-bondage. With my new freedom, I stepped things up. I began to accumulate an extensive collection of toys. Every night I would come home from work, check the mailbox to see if there were new magazines, videos, or toys. I'd go upstairs to my second floor apartment (a nondescript beige box, but better than my lousy 1900's home had been because it had working electrical outlets and water pressure and I didn't have to fix things on the weekends). I'd fix a quick dinner while watching a porn video or looking at a magazine. I'd do the dishes. Then I'd close the blinds, strip, and begin the evening's fun. I was beginning to think that this strange, lust-filled private world I'd created was perhaps a bit eccentric. And it began to bleed over into the rest of my life.

One of the ways it started to bleed was that I started enjoying prolonged chastity. This, combined with a constant stream of stimulation resulted in more and more intense orgasms.

The day before I'd walked into work in my chastity cage (a Thursday), I'd decided to stimulate myself all night and all day, going for a Thursday night explosion. So Wednesday night after work was to be a busy one. After dinner with a new issue of a favorite magazine, I let myself calm a bit, then quickly stuffed my softened cock through the silver steel ring of my birdcage style chastity device. As I grew harder, I pulled and prodded myself into the cage, lined up the two small steel poles connecting the cage to the cock ring, careful not to pinch anything sensitive, and snapped shut the tiny lock that would remain in place for 24 hours.

That night I had time to watch two videos and maybe do a little something. I put a towel on my leather couch. I lubricated myself and slid my inflatable plug into my backside. I gave it a number of pumps and it filled to put a stiff pressure on my prostate. I put in the first video, and sat down on my couch.

I'd wrapped a pair of hardware-store chains around the feet and around the back. Every link could be used as a place to affix a clip. I put on my heavy black leather collar, and my black leather wrist and ankle restraints. I clipped my legs wide apart and used the D-ring on my collar to fix my neck to the back of the couch. I clipped first my left and then my write wrist as far out to my sides as I could. Then, safely unable to touch myself, I became engrossed in the action on the screen.

The first video I watched had a hot blonde woman with bright blue eyes and pale white skin, large breasts and a smooth, perfectly shaved cunt being bound with bamboo. Her breasts were tied tightly and began to turn purple. As she lay on her back, gagged with hemp rope, her tormentor first whipped her sensitive, engorged breasts, then poured a series of hot wax devotional candles onto her perfect skin before he penetrated her with a huge black dildo on a pole that had a Hitachi wand bound to it with electrical tape. He forced her to orgasm again and again, and - especially sexy - she ground her hips, the only part of her body that she could effectively move, against the massive vibrator, her lips almost engulfing the head of the wand along with the dildo.

It was a hot scene. My mind began to contemplate my own situation. My dick was as hard as it could be, the red flesh straining to escape the silver cage. A steady ooze of pre-cum began to form at the tip. An hour passed.

At the end of that video, I unclipped myself. My breath was short. Pre-cum was shining on the silver cage where my cock-head strained to expand, swelling obscenely through the wires. The lock was firm. My shaved balls were slightly crushed between the wire cage and the cock ring. They ached and pulsed. I wanted to jerk off badly. But no. More stimulation was in order.

Time for a drink of water and another video. This time I wanted female domination, like most of my fantasies. I started the video and sat back down on the couch. I wanted more stimulation, so I gave the bulb of the inflatable plug several more pumps. I tried to picture how big it was in there. It felt huge. I put a line of eight clothespins across my chest tied together with a hemp string. I made a deal with myself that I would rip this zipper off when the guy on screen was allowed to cum.

The video was a "point of view" - a fantasy where a dominatrix on a computer tells a guy exactly how to stimulate himself nearly to orgasm, then stops him. She was a teasing blonde, showing off her large natural breasts, her red lips. She writhed and fingered herself on the screen for him, then she commanded, "Don't you dare cum!" Later, she appeared in his house and forced him to service her. I imagined her with her shaved pussy poised over my face, diving in, helpless and at her whim. Lastly, she strapped on a huge dildo and fucked him in the ass while reaching around to jerk him off. As he exploded at her mercy. I ripped the clothespins off my chest to a sheet of white pain.

I unclipped myself from the chains and I had an idea. I tied an 8" cock and balls dildo to an arm of the couch where I could reach it with my ass if I knelt on the floor. I went to the bathroom, deflated and removed the plug. I reversed the video to the last scene. I put a pair of clover clamps on my nipples. I clipped 6 oz. weights to each. Oddly, I hardly felt any pain from them as they pulled my nipples out and the silver bit into my flesh. I clipped my hands together and knelt down on the floor. I raised my ass and slowly pushed it against the dildo. It ached a bit as the head eased inside of me. Then I pushed back against it and it slid home. I rocked back and forth on it. The weights on the nipple clamps swung back and forth, and my nipples started to burn and ache. My dick was pulsing against the cage. It all burned and hurt. It felt fantastic. I was in a frenzy.

The video ended and I had to get ready for bed. Work in the morning - the 5:45 alarm was going to ring. I undid the clamps on my nipples which left purple bite marks where they had dug into my skin. Those would be sensitive for a couple of days. I pinched them experimentally.

I thought about leaving the cock cage on all night, but I decided to take it off so that I could sleep better. I would put it back on in the morning. It was hard to calm down, but the orgasm tomorrow night would be amazing.

Next morning, after I'd showered, I took out the chastity cage. It seemed incongruous in the morning. But my testes were still aching from the previous night. I had to trick myself into going soft enough to slide it on, and then clicked the padlock into place. I pushed myself into a tight pair of briefs and got into my suit and tie. I looked in the mirror. Did I look like a pervert on the outside? Could anyone tell? I didn't think so. It would be my secret titillation.

Back to the Present

So as I sat there, agog, horrified, petrified with excitement and fear with that empty feeling in the gut that comes when your shame is fresh, not over, and ongoing, I'd been focused on my lust for nearly 24 hours.

"Phil, if I'm going to keep your secret, I get to have some fun with you." Melanie continued to look steadily at me. She was accustomed to being in charge, her authority was easy and unmistakable. I was still choking on my tongue. She laughed at me. "I like having a man at my mercy. You're going to do what I tell you, Phil. I'm going to own your cock. Get down on your knees, Phil, and take a look under my desk."

I slid off the chair and onto my knees. What choice did I have? "Look up my skirt, Phil." She parted her legs. "Go ahead. I want you to. You see how my black stockings have a lace frill at the top and are held up by that garter belt. And I'll bet you've noticed that my pretty shaved pussy is not covered with any underwear. I do this quite a lot, Phil. It turns me on to know that I'm bare down there, and that I'm turning men on. Especially little masturbators like you. I like to picture you frantically jerking yourself off with images of me in your head. Take a good look, Phil. Remember it. Yes, we're going to have some fun..."


Chapter 2

Thursday

It was after hours now. The office was quiet. The gorgeous, long legged, slim woman in front of me who had just invited me to look at her beautiful, smoothly shaved pussy under her desk said matter of factly, "I want you to strip, Phil." She reclined in her leather office chair. She undid a button on her white blouse and raised her knee, leaving very little to the imagination in her tiny black skirt.

"That's right. Right down to your little wire cock cage."

I fumbled as I took off all of my clothes and folded them. "Chop chop!" she teased. Soon, I was totally nude except for the cock cage, my erection straining against it.

"Put your hands behind your head and turn around for me slowly...Not too bad. I like a shaved slave boy. Nothing covered up." And I felt, if possible, even more totally naked than I was. Even my mind felt exposed to her gaze.

"Coming to work in chastity. That's very naughty, Phil. You should be punished. Don't you agree? Do you agree that I should punish you?" I nodded. She said, "You're awfully quiet. I need a real answer. Speak!"

"Yes, I agree."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Mistress, I agree to be punished by you."

"Oh good," her smile was feline.

"Now face me and smile." Her phone was in her hand, and, to my horror, she took a photo. "Just a little insurance that you will obey me." She continued, her voice low, almost whispering her obscene suggestions to me. "I have some homework for you tonight, my little slave. I want you to get dressed, go home, and then immediately strip again. I want you to leave your cock in that cage all night. I want you to - you have a gag, right?" I nodded. "Put it in. Then put your largest plug - you do have an anal plug?" I nodded again. "More than one? Of course." She laughed again, lightly, teasingly. "I knew you would, you dirty boy. Work it in past your sphincter and leave it there. I want you stretched a bit. I want you to document this. I want pictures of you in your gag and anal plug and cock cage, but otherwise completely naked e-mailed to my phone before 8pm tonight. Stay that way all night, and then report to me in the morning. You have my permission to watch - in fact, I insist that you watch - some of your porn tonight. I know that you probably have an extensive collection. I want your balls blue for me. You can leave now." She swiveled back to her computer screen. She watched as I scrambled into my clothes with a mocking smile on her red lips, parted just slightly, her perfect white teeth just visible. "Oh - and one more thing. I want you to give me the key, all of the keys, to your little device there."

I said, "Yes, Mistress," and stumbled out the door and home.

My mind was reeling with the enormity of the discovery. I think I was physically shaking. Though, what kind of "fun" did she have in mind? My cock was painfully straining at the thought of it. And had I not glimpsed one of the most perfect pussies I'd ever laid eyes on under that desk. And wasn't this something I'd always wanted to happen? Dread, fear, and desire are a strong cocktail. Coupled with pain - exquisite.

So when I reached my apartment, I did exactly what she'd told me to do. I took out my toys and I buckled a red ball gag into my mouth with its black leather strap. It held my jaw uncomfortably wide. I took a picture.

Then, she had instructed me to use my biggest plug. I hesitated and considered cheating. I had one that I almost never used. It was 7" long and the base was 2" wide. Putting this inside me was not an easy task. It runt. I had to work up to it. I took it out, lubed it up, and began working it inside me. I pressed it up and in until it ached, then let it out. Then again, a little further. I did love this thing when I finally got it in. So it was worth it. Finally, with a last push I got it through and all the way in. My ass burned and ached. I had to hold still for a moment. I felt stupidly full. I documented my struggle and my success digitally and mailed it off to Mistress Melanie. It was easier to crawl than to walk with that plug buried in me, so that was how I made my way to my DVD player.

How was I going to take this all night?

I put in a female domination video. This one featured three scenes. The first was a very thorought whipping of the guy's front side by a brunette mistress in a black leather corset, garter belt and stockings. She teased and slapped his hard cock. She lightly kicked him in the balls. I sat there with the pressure of the plug aching and my own cock straining against the cage, chained in place on the couch. I envied the guy in the video. Next, she turned him over and placed a vibrator on the tip of his cock - a black cap with two vibrating bullets on the sides. I had one of these in my toy collection, so I empathized with precisely the crazy feeling he had, knowing how hard it is to hold out for more than a few minutes against an orgasm stimulated by that device. He was ordered not cum, the forced/given the chance to lick the raven-haired mistress in black over the knee high heeled boots beautiful, pale white pussy. Finally, he begged to be allowed to come, and she fucked him with a strap-on while he was bolted into a metal contraption that held him still. Finally, she gave him a final hand-job, and he was allowed to explode.

I wasn't, and it was driving me crazy. I turned off the porn. I removed the plug from my aching back side. I was ridiculously turned on. And also afraid. What would Melanie do to me tomorrow? It was going to be a long night, and a long work day. I hoped she wasn't into anything really weird.

I slept fitfully. My balls, already aching 24 hours previously, enduring continuous confinement were very painful. Morning came. I got out an envelope before I headed to work. I hesitated for a moment. Then I put both keys to my cock cage into it. But somehow I thought that Melanie - Mistress Melanie, I corrected myself - would know if I held one back.

Friday

First thing I did when I arrived at work was drop by Mistress Melanie's office. The air was as stale as usual. The fluorescent lights glared their usual glare. The plants still looked sickly. The grey maze of cubicles still looked like they might conceal a large round of cheese, if only one kept looking. The once bright but now dull gold paint continued to depress. But my mind was elsewhere.

"I could hear your little pad-lock clinking all the way down the hall," she said. I looked at her, horrified. She was beautiful this morning. Make-up a little heavier than usual. Red lips parted. Over the knee high-heeled leather boots with crisscrossing laces. Tiny leather skirt. Casual day indeed, I thought, drawing a shaky breath as she closed the door behind me.

I handed her the envelope.

"Are these all the keys?" she asked. The door was closed, and I honestly think I would have done anything she asked. "Yes, Mistress Melanie," I said. She grabbed my face with her right hand and squished my cheeks together. She looked down at me - she was taller than me in the 5" heels she wore - "I think you're telling the truth," she said after a brief hesitation. "You've been very good. And I enjoyed your pictures las night. I might reward you. Did you enjoy your porn last night, my little slave?" Again, she was looking steadily into my eyes with a gaze too strong for me to meet. "Good," she cooed, "Good. And your plug. That's still in place? It was a big one. I bet it is getting really uncomfortable."

I froze. I'd taken it out, washed it, and put it away last night. She grabbed my face - harder this time. "You took it out, didn't you?" She sounded angry. I was flat-footed, hand in the cookie jar.

"But Mistress, it was too big to have in there all night. I couldn't walk properly. And it's a long work day."

She shook her head. "You'll be punished for that later. You will learn to obey me to the letter." She tapped my cock in its cage under my blue pinstriped trousers. "Off to work with you." She handed me an envelope and said, "Your instructions. Read them carefully and follow them precisely. Open it when you get home. Not here. I do hope you didn't have any plans for tonight, because I'm going to visit you. Now go!"

I slunk to my cubicle and got to work. It was a very, very, long day indeed. I was dying to know what was in the envelope. What did she want me to do? What was she going to do to me?

Finally I got home and took out the envelope. It contained a note which read:

"Dear little slave boy: I want you to strip naked right now. Go ahead. I'll wait." I did what the note said. "Take a selfie in the mirror and send it to me so that I know you are reading my nice note." Embarassed, and a little wary of releasing more digital images of myself in compromising positions out into the world, I did so. Careful to shoot from the neck down only. "Alright, slave boy. Take out every box of pornography and every sex toy you own and spread them out in your living room. Put shackles on your wrists and ankles and lock your collar around your neck. I will arrive precisely 45 minutes after your photo reaches me. [I checked my watch - this was about 43 minutes away now.] Unlock your apartment door. I expect to find you kneeling up with your hands behind your head, naked except for your restraints and your chastity cage. You will follow my orders precisely. You will speak only when spoken to (though you may moan and cry out.) You will address me as Mistress at all times. See you soon, Mistress Melanie."

42 minutes later, I knelt, naked, collared, cock hard in chastity, hands behind my head with bated breath, the beige carpet of my living room floor cluttered with all of the evidence of my considerable perversion, staring at the door. The door opened.


Chapter 3 - The End of the Beginning (added: 2017/04/15)

Serving Mistress Melanie

I knelt, naked, collared, cock hard in chastity, hands behind my head with bated breath, the beige carpet of my living room floor cluttered with all of the evidence of my considerable perversion, staring at the door. The door opened.

I breathed a sigh of relief that it was Mistress Melanie. And I quickly began to worry while she stood there for a moment in a long black trench coat, 5" heels on her black shiny boots of leather looking down at me with the door open. She carried a black duffle bag in her right hand. Her nails were painted bright red. I really did not want the neighbors to see me like this and I wanted her to close the door with all my might. But she stood there, I think sensing what I felt, with a smile on her red lips. Her long mass of wild hair, brown with its blonde highlights was shining. After what seemed like an eternity she closed the door and laughed at me.

"You really are a sick and twisted individual, aren't you," she stated, serenely surveying my considerable collection of pornography that I'd spread across the floor at her direction. My riding crop, 3' single tail whip, thin black 3' lexan cane, rattan cane, and heavy flogger lay in a row with their handles facing her, about half a meter to my left. A stack of videos with titles like "Sluts in Slavery" and "Dominated" sat by the T.V. and Blu-ray player. I felt trapped and utterly exposed and opened. My heart pounded in my throat and cock throbbed more intensely in its chastity cage at the sensation.

She tossed her hair, and after surveying the apartment for a moment dropped her duffle bag and shrugged off her trench coat, tossing it casually over one of my small brown leather chairs. She was amazing. She wore a black leather corset that accentuated her hips and lifted her bare breasts with pink nipples the size of quarters. She wore nothing on her bottom, her shaved pussy gorgeously smooth. She wore black gloves that reached her upper arms. Her black high heeled patent leather boots buckled at the side in a half dozen places and came to her knees. Fence net stockings reached up from there to her black lace garter, drawing attention to her taught inner thighs. Her skin was pale white. She was a vision of a dominant woman. I'd never seen anyone so sexy in person in all my life. I wanted her.

Her greenish blue eyes looked at me steadily for a moment. I couldn't meet her gaze. She sighed. "You are mine now."

She reached into her duffle bag and pulled out a black, red-handled Lexan cane. She swung it through the air and it made a whistling sound. She circled me, predatory. "Not bad. I like your thick black leather collar, wrist and ankle restraints. Locked I see. Very nice." Then the cane struck, the whistle much shorter. This was much harder than I'd ever whipped myself, and suddenly my helplessness to do anything about it struck me, along with the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th strikes of the cane. I was reeling as the pain worked its way through my ass. Trembling. Then she truly began to whip me. Again and again it rained down. I quickly lost count, gasping through the gag.

Then she dropped to a squat in front of me, and my eyes strayed to her pussy. She savagely pinched my nipples in her gloves, and asked sweetly, "How many times did I strike you?"

I had no idea and said so.

"You've been very bad," she pouted, twisting my nipples. "You really need to keep count. I shall have to start over."

Waves of pain were still overwhelming me. "But let's make this more challenging. Because you were a bad little masturbator and didn't count, I'm going to adorn you with these," she said, while pulling a pair of silver clover clamps with a silver chain running between them from her bag. Pinching my nipples she fastened them. Flames came from my nipples, overriding the pain from my back side. "Hmm..." she cooed. "Not quite enough, I don't think." She reached into her bag again, and pulled out a ball of dull metal tied to a short length of hemp rope attached to a carabiner. She clipped it to the center of the chain. I bent over slightly gasping. "Kneel up." She then stepped behind me with the cane again.

It turned out that she hit me 46 times. I dutifully counted this time. Somewhere during the beating, one of the clamps slid off my left nipple, yanking on the right, which then pulled even harder. Fire came from behind. This was far, far more than I'd ever done to myself.

"Now. How many times did I strike you?" she whispered in my ear, her breath hot on my neck.

"47, Mistress."

"Very good. But you lost your posture. I saw you leaning forward into the weights. If you want to lean forward so badly, why don't you put your head on the floor right now?" At that instant, she unclipped my right nipple and I threw myself forward in agony. She laughed. Then she ungagged me, as knelt there, my head on the floor, my wrists still bound behind my back, my legs spread, my burning ass vulnerable, high in the air, my forehead on the carpet, breathing hard. It was a relief to have the gag out of my mouth.

"Worhip my boots now, slave boy." She stepped around in front of me. I eagerly licked both boots as she held them out to me, first one, and then the other. I closed my eyes. I was in an ecstasy of submission. I would do anything for this domineering woman. Anything at all.

"Stop." She commanded. Then she lowered herself in front of me and brought her pussy to my mouth. "Lick me to orgasm, you dirty little masturbator, and I might, possibly, release you from your chastity."

I threw myself into the job of pleasing her with every trick my tongue knew. She began to breath hard. I loved her scent. I felt a change in the taste of her as I found her clit, licking as fast and yet gently as I could. I was lost in her, sucking, licking and giving everything I had to her as her orgasm peaked. She moaned, grinding into my face.

Recovering, she stood again. "Not bad. I see you are useful for something." She moved around behind me. She pulled a metal plug with a red jewel at the base out of her bag and showed it to me. "This is going inside of you now. And I'm going to blindfold you." She buckled a black leather blindfold over my eyes. I heard the snap of rubber gloves. It was quiet for a minute. Her gloved finger spread lube around and inside me. She crooked her finger against my prostate for a second and I gasped. Then I felt the freezing cold tip of the plug at my rear hole. Then, without ceremony, she rammed it inside.

I was stunned by the pain for a minute. I could feel her presence behind me. She unbound my hands.

"Now I have a little game for us. I'm going to watch some of your porn over here on the couch. And you get 15 minutes to find the key to your chastity cage. I'm just going to toss it somewhere in the room, and you get to look for it."

I struggled to take this in. Then I heard a tiny plop in the living room behind me. The key must have it a magazine.

"And you can begin...Now."

I crawled toward the place where I thought I'd heard the noise.

"Oh my, you do seem to have some classics here...Why do you have all this obviously cheap stuff? 'Stiff Punishment.' Hmm...Oh, this looks good."

As I groped around, I heard the T.V. come on, and the slink of porn come on. Where was that key? Soon, the moans of a man under a mistresses' whip were on the television. Did she have to play it so loudly? Could the neighbors hear it in the hallway? Or worse, next door or upstairs or downstairs? I had to find that key!

"Hmmm...Interesting magazine you have here. These are pretty hard core. I like these with the men in the shots. But they should be bound, serving the women....Oh, and I'm afraid you're getting colder..." I turned. "Warmer...warmer...You know, I might not be telling the truth," she laughed.

I began to get desperate, feeling all around me, sliding my hands across pages of naked bodies, groping at the carpet.

"Time's up. Lay down on the floor and roll over on your back." She knelt and removed my blindfold. Then she stood over me and pushed a heel into my balls slowly pushing harder and harder. It was agony. The plug in my ass burned. She was so tall and commanding as she stood over me. I was in a trance, soaking in every aspect of her, trying to burn it into my memory.

"Let me see..." She settled her pussy over my face. "If you bring me to another orgasm, I might possibly let you out of your chastity." Pressing her soft breasts against my stomach, she toyed with the cock cage. I could feel her breath on my balls. She occasionally let her tongue stray through the wires, as I licked and sucked with everything I had. She sat up, and grinding against my face, pressing down on my, suffocating me between her legs, she moaned in orgasm again.

She stood up. "Not bad. Hands behind your head! I think I'll let you out." She took put the tiny key into the gold lock, and she opened the hasp. Gently she pulled the cage off of my cock. It was streaked with blue lines where it had been straining against the cage for days now. It felt so good to be free of it. Not gently, she forced one ball through the silver ring at the base, then pulled off the cock ring. I was free at last, heavy with stored cum and aching for release. I was so far into subspace that I would do anything for this harsh mistress.

"Over here to the couch. Now heels on the cushion. Lift yourself up. Scooch your shoulders forward. I want your cock straight above your face." I had an idea of what she had in mind. I felt abased. But I would do anything for release now. Her gloved hand went to my cock and she gently slid it over me. Then she circled the base of my testicles with her left thumb and forefinger and squeezed. Pre-cum oozed to the tip of my cock. My balls ached, my sac was red. She flicked it with my balls hard with her middle finger off of her thumb. Pain! God that was hard. I'd never caused myself this much pain in self-bondage. I'd always pulled back. My legs started to ache from holding this position.

"Now I'm going to jerk you off. And you are going to thank me my eating every last drop of your cum." She released my balls. She put her warm mouth over the tip of my cock and swirled her tongue around it, blowing my mind. Then she began to pump her fist. Her mouth went away. My orgasm built in a matter of seconds. She could see it, and she laughed again. "Open wide," she said. And then I was spurting streams of white hot cum. Most of it went in my mouth, much of it went on my face and ran in rivers down my chest.

I swallowed. I was suddenly swept with post-orgasmic shame. What had she done to me? I was a mess. But she wasn't done. Her gloved hand slid across my chest and face, and she fed me the rest of my now cooling seed.

I lay there, spent. She stood up and once again, snapped the black surgical gloves off and tossed them on my chest. "Where are your keys for these locks?" she asked, indicating the locks that held my two inch heavy leather collar in place, and the leather cuffs at my wrists and ankles. I said, somewhat miserably, "Top of that box, Mistress." She picked them up, walked to her raincoat and dropped the keys in her pocket. She put away her things, zipped up her duffle bag, and stood at the door while I lay in a daze.

"I'll send you more instructions with my bidding tomorrow, slave. We are going to have such fun."

"But wait!" I said, "I need to get some groceries? I can't go out with these things on me!"

"That's your problem. And you did not address me as Mistress. I'll punish you for that tomorrow. Goodbye now." And Mistress Melanie slipped out the door with a wave.


Chapter 4: Aftermath (added: 2017/07/08)

Saturday morning

I sat there on my floor, naked, a leather collar locked to my neck with a massive silver D-ring attached and leather restraints locked to my wrists and ankles. In my mouth, the salty numb flavor of three days of my own white sperm that I'd just been forced to consume after one of the most powerful orgasms of my life. My new mistress, Melanie, with her dark hair, darker mind, and wicked whips had just walked out the door after locking the chastity cage back onto my still swollen cock and balls.

My apartment was a mess - porno mags littered the floor. A woman was still moaning in bondage ecstasy on the T.V.

I realized in that moment that this was possibly the best day of my life. Since I'd started tying myself up for masturbation at 13 and felt those first rushes of imagined submission I'd wanted to be under the control of a beautiful, demanding mistress. Finally! Yes!! What would the future hold? What wonderful, terrible things did she have in store for me? With these thought swimming in my head, I picked up the apartment, took a shower, and went to bed.

The sun was shining and a warm mist lay on the bright green leaves and grass of early summer. They sky was deep blue. When I woke up, early as usual, on Saturday morning, the first thing I noticed was my aching cock, straining at the cage which it seemed might be a permanent feature of my submission. The next thing I noticed was a message from Mistress Melanie on my phone.

"Dear slave boy, I really enjoyed you last night and I do hope that you derived some sort of perverted satisfaction as well. Now I want you to reply to my text with either 'red pill' or 'blue pill.' You write 'blue pill' and the story ends. I'll drive the key over, and you can go back to your ignominious self-abuse. You text 'red pill,' and you stay in Wonderland as my sex slave, follow my orders and derive your only satisfaction from me. I will be your demanding mistress for as long as I choose. And I will send instructions for your day."

I paused, rehearsing the events of the past few days in my mind. I don't know why I paused for even a second, actually. The humiliation had been exquisite. I'd craved that feeling for years. The exposure was a freedom granted. I wanted and feared the pain. White hot when a whip struck, then aching, then wanting the pain again, harder. "Red pill" I typed. And waited, staring at it. Not long. "Send." Done. What have I done? This is great. I'm terrified. I'm free.

"Bloop." A message from Mistress. "Excellent. All is proceeding according to my design. You go about your business and I'll devise something wicked. You will hear from me soon, slave."

This was real. And it was fantastic! I stared, dumbstruck at the words on my phone's screen. This was going to continue.

Right. Back to the everyday world. I faced a conundrum. I needed to get basic groceries as I always shop on Saturday mornings, and I was out of everything. Also, I needed to get my run in before the day heated up too much. With the humidity, it might be a very long run indeed. Made difficult by the chastity cage.

I decided to own it. I felt no shame. I washed, dressed, pulled on black jeans and an old "Motorhead, England" t-shirt. I loosened the laces on my worn Dr. Martins so they'd fit over the ankle-cuffs. As "suit and tie guy" I didn't have much opportunity to wear my old rocker uniform. But it seemed like the best option. Before I could think too hard about it, I headed for the door with my backpack for the short walk to the grocery store and the anonymity of the city. I'd be fine. I felt awkward in my hallway. There really wasn't anyone I wanted to run into. The college girls two doors down would probably be the worst. Or the weird short Gollum looking guy I shared a parking garage with. He would be the worst, too.

I made it out the door without running into anyone, and pointed my boots up the sidewalk. I loved where I lived. Across the street from my building was a huge and fairly wild park set in the river gorge, replete with bicycle and running trails and boat launches and quiet. It was wild enough that deer and coyotes lived there. You could bike or run to either downtown entirely on trails. Yet, at the same time, my place was on two bus lines so that I only had to drive if I chose to, and could walk out the back way of my apartment to stores that sold everything I needed.

I felt conspicuous. I was sure that everyone driving past knew everything they needed to deduce the kind of pervert I was. I sincerely hoped I wasn't blushing as I walked into the air-conditioned grocery store, which felt more like refrigeration after the sun and heat outside. I felt awkward, and wished I could sink through the floor. The usual grocery store crowd was there. Where do all of these unsmiling overweight trolls come from? Why to most of the cashiers look like yellow-toothed slot-machine enthusiasts in Las Vegas. What did I care if they judged me? Such were my thoughts...The exposure, being in public with a leather collar and wrist cuffs locked onto me made me feel naked.

Finally I got to check out. The ordeal was nearly over. One of the cashiers was a young woman, a little younger than me, with a nose ring her blonde hair up in a ponytail and a sleeve tattoo coming out from under her white uniform shirt and green apron. I thought she looked less judging than the church lady lifers at the other registers. I did think I saw her blue eyes linger on my collar for just an extra minute. I exchanged pleasantries about the weather with her. In parting, I flashed the devil horns and said, "Rock & roll!" Maybe a bit much, but it was all or nothing in this.

Walking back was almost worse than walking there. The feeling of being naked with all eyes on me began to strain. The cock cage was getting uncomfortable. I really wanted it to be over.

I finally got to my building, up the stairs, down the hall and...oh dear. The college girls two doors down, one blonde with smart, straight shoulder length golden hair wearing a fluorescent pink crop top and white shorts over her smooth, long tanned legs. The other was dark haired, in a white sun dress and white heels. They smelled of perfume. I wanted to sink through the floor. "Hey neighbor," said the blonde. "Hey neighbors" I replied maybe too loudly, "Lovely warm day out," I said. "Have a good one, said the brunette. As I got to my door, I heard a burst of laughter from the end of the hall. I hoped it wasn't about me. I felt flushed, short of breath. Finally back into the apartment, just in time to hear my phone tell me I had a text message.

"You'll find that I'm a generous mistress. Look under your couch for an envelope. The keys to all of your restraints are there. (You didn't think I was going to make an extra trip if you'd chosen the blue pill, did you?) I want you to release yourself. I know that you're a runner. Put on just your shortest shorts and your shoes, and send me a picture so that I know you've obeyed me."

I had a pair of disused shorts with just a ½" inseam. I didn't use them anymore, because the lining was too loose and you could clearly see my Johnson if I became excited, which, given my proclivities, I often do when running. I didn't know how well my new mistress knew my running shorts collection. Not well. I could probably cheat. But I didn't want to.

I stripped off my shirt, jeans, boots & finally the restraints. My cock sprang instantly to life when it came out of the cage. I dug out the blue shorts. I put them on. I stuffed Johnson downward, hard, hoping to conceal him. It was O.K. for the moment, but I knew it wouldn't stay that way as I loosened things up with a jog. I snapped a picture in the mirror. Not looking too bad, I thought. Running was good to me. There was a tan line on my quads because mostly I wore shorts with a 7 - 9" inseam. I sent the picture.

"Oh, that's good. Now go for your 3-mile run down by your river, slave. Just those clothes. Be a dear and snap a selfie for me with the river in the background, waist down, when you get there. When I get it, I'll send you instructions for this evening." I could hear her melodious and maleficent voice through the words on my screen.

Nothing for it. I'd chosen to be a slave this morning, and these were instructions from my mistress. I pulled on my Flip Belt, zipped my phone into it, slipped the water bottle in, chose not to wear headphones as I wanted to be fully aware of my surroundings.

Again, I felt totally naked. This fed the excitement as I fast-walked the hallway. This time, in contrast to earlier, I really was nearly naked, just one slip of clothing barely covering my modesty. The thought was not helpful to the Johnson situation. I was becoming erect, and looking down, I could tell. I hit the sidewalk and my Garmin, and started off at a sprint. Maybe I could outrun my excitement. At any rate, I could flash by strangers' eyes as fast as possible.

It was swampy hot. I love running in the heat. A sheen of sweat instantly built up. I looked down at my shaved chest, and drops were already forming .2 miles from my place. Pace said 7:54 per mile. I could never maintain this pace for 5K in this heat. Still, I wanted desperately to get across the road and down to the comparative privacy of the trails by the river.

Down the hill I went, into the steamy river gorge. The first person I came up to, walking along the path, was going the same direction as me, thankfully, because I now had a raging hardon from the exposure. Whew. Long straightaway, and nobody there...I saw a dirt path ahead, which I knew stayed closer to the river. Fewer people used it...but it was a lot narrower than the paved path I was on, and if I did meet someone...I decided fewer people was better, and took the dirt. A few minutes later I thought, "this is my chance." I pulled out my phone and took the selfie Mistress had demanded. Looking at the picture, I was pretty horrified. It was SO obvious that I was rocking a full-on erection. I hit "send" just as a dog came around the corner ahead. I decided to pretend that it was time for me to turn around and headed back the other way before the owner came in sight. Dodged a bullet there.

The horrible part was that the more I tried not to feel naked, the more naked and exposed I felt. The humiliation fueled my excitement, which fueled the naked feeling, which circled back around in a vicious circle. I ran faster. Then, the worst. I'd hit the paved trail again, and turned right toward the park exit and home. I was more than half way there. Then, on a long straightaway with no exit, to my horror I saw what looked to be a women's college track team - maybe a dozen young women - in spandex and jogging bras headed straight at me. I was sure that they could see everything. I had no escape. They were lean, gorgeous specimens of womanhood, in tremendous shape.

I was mortified, rock hard, and had no escape. I was "that guy" you sometimes see when you're out for a run, who has the banana hammock on display for all to see. There was absolutely nothing to be done but to hit a sprint and get it over with as quickly as possible. Panting, I hit the first of the group. One of them put up a hand for a high five. I gave her the high five. Then I heard the woman who was apparently directly behind me say "way to go!" to her teammates. Could this get any worse? As the "way to go" girl passed me with a smaller group of women, she said, "Don't worry, it's O.K. you gave her a high five!" "Thanks, I feel a little less embarrassed now," I said, meaning it. These women were out of my league, and quickly passed me. The spandex hugging their perfect asses had the usual effect on me. I was at the mercy of my own cock.

Just when it seemed I was getting to the end (I was 2.5 miles in and panting heavily), I came over a rise and saw in the parking lot the rest of the team with an orange Gatorade cooler gathered around the back of a pickup truck. The trail went smack by them, not two feet away. There was no avoiding it. The young women clapped and yelled "Whoo!" at me as I fled past at a dead sprint, my Johnson hopelessly flopping in my tiny loose shorts. Maybe they were encouraging me? Maybe they were mocking me? I didn't stick around to find out which.

Finally, gasping for air, I made it back to my apartment. The air conditioning was a rush and put goose bumps on every inch of skin. Inside, I dropped my sweat soaked shorts, and stood by a fan. I really hoped none of those women would remember me if I ever ran that path again.

Another message from Mistress Melanie was on my phone. It was an address (not too far away, downtown). It read, "I trust you had a pleasant run. DO NOT TOUCH YOURSELF, you pervert! I know your tricks and your manners, and I will know. I want you showered, shaved and clean at this address at 6:00 sharp. I have a use for you this evening. Do not disappoint me."


Chapter 5: Into Her Lair (added: 2017/09/08)

Her message had included instructions about how I was to prepare myself. After my terrifying and humiliating run, I took a long, careful shower. I shaved every hair off my body and scrubbed. Then, I took a much-needed nap, naked on top of my comfy queen-sized bed after setting my alarm to wake me with plenty of time to make it to the addr3ss Mistress Melanie had provided. I slept hard, and woke up groggy. I made myself an expresso. The bitter but pleasant odor of the French roast from my steamer filled my apartment.

I was almost breathless with excitement as I slipped on a fresh t-shirt and blue jeans and collected my car from the underground garage. The 20-minute drive seemed to take forever. I had to constantly remind myself that I was driving, and that it was important that I keep my eye on the road, rather than on my mind's eye and the dark visions of sex and humiliation that lurked there. Antici...pation. It was a mantra.

When I arrived at her downtown address, I was a few minutes early, as usual. I circled the area a bit. Many new apartments and condos in a revitalizing area near the light-rail line. I double-chedked her address as my car slid by. I knew a place where I could part for free and for as long as necessary, so I drove a few blocks away and got out, and carefully locked the car. My heart was racing. My breath was shallow. I checked my watch. Still ten minutes early. I walked around a couple of blocks. It was a steamy long twilight, the sun low and red in a kind of mist between the tall buildings. Other people were going about their lives. Could they see through me the way Melanie did? But I was just an anonymous face in the city.

I went inside the door of her somewhat anonymous 2000's construction building. I negotiated the security system. Her mellifluous voice came over the speaker, "Excellent. You're here. Right on time. Come up," and she buzzed the door open.

When I arrived at her apartment door, she carefully opened it from behind and invited me in. She closed the door. She had grey shades pulled across her floor to ceiling windows, and the room smelled of Gonesh nag champa incense. She was an absolute vision of a dominant goddess. Her black hair, flecked with grey, was pulled up and back severely. She wore shiny bright red patent leather thigh-high boots with stiletto heels, which gave way to red fence-net stockings and a red garter belt. A tiny strip of red lace strained to cover the mount of her shaved pussy. A shiny red corset buckled and cinched her waist. Her full, firm, pale white breasts, pink nipples the size of quarters, spilled out of the push-up cups. She wore red fingerless gloves that came nearly to her shoulders, and her fingernails were red talons. She carried a red riding crop tucked under her right arm, and her left hand rested on her hip as she appraised me with her cool gazed from her bright blue eyes, shadowed with dark makeup. From her bright red lips, she quietly commanded, "Strip."

I fumbled at my shoes and my jeans and pulled my black t-shirt over my head. It felt like it took me forever. She only smiled and nodded, and intimated a slight impatience. "Fold them." She indicated the rumpled pile of clothes I'd left with her crop, then struck my left butt cheek with a crack. "I will not tolerate a slob."

I stole a glance at her apartment. It was obvious that she wouldn't. It had high ceilings. While it wasn't overly large, it did have an entire wall of windows which gave the illusion that it was bigger. It faced east, so the setting sun was only visible on the neighboring apartments. If it had been daylight, it would have been bright and cheery. She had little furniture. The gleaming maple floor was made warmer by a tasteful red oriental rug. The walls were bright, and the kitchen was maple as well. I had stripped just inside the door in a short hallway. To my left, there was a bathroom. Straight ahead, a closed door. Opposite the windows, she had a few tall black book cases. The volumes were all worn and had been read. A lovely place, really, and I would have said so. But now was obviously not the time.

As soon as I'd finished folding my clothes, awkwardly on my knees, she snapped, "Kneel up. Hands behind your head. Don't lace your fingers." She tapped my balls with the crop upwardly to emphasize her command.

My erection was rock hard and stood out from my freshly shaved body. She leaned over, put her cheek to mine and grabbed my cock and balls at the base as she said in a low voice, "From now on, these are mine." She stood and walked around me, improving my posture with short, sharp slaps of the crop.

"Kiss," she ordered, proffering her right boot. I immediately complied, naked, on the floor in front of her, groveling, kissing her boot lightly and repeatedly. I perceived in my peripheral vision that she reached to a shelf behind her, and then I felt the cold metal of a pair of handcuffs as she bent town and took both my arms behind me. I heard them ratchet as she snapped them tight. After a few minutes, she snapped her fingers. "Enough! Now crawl after me." I was only too glad to do so, watching the toned white globes of her ass framed by the red corset and garter click away. I hurried, awkward on my knees with my hands cuffed behind me.

She stopped in front of a tall bookshelf on the wall, then put her gloved hand into a hidden recess. The shelf swung outward to reveal a white door like the others in the apartment. She leaned down and used one of the keys on a gold chain that had nestled deep in her cleavage to unlock the door. "Crawl on your knees into my dungeon now," she murmured, striking my ass with the crop to encourage me to greater speed.

This was amazing. I thought that I had secrets. But this woman, this stunning dominatrix in red leather was at a different level altogether. Her fantasies had obviously become baroque, and I wondered, eagerly and with trepidation, what lurked in the recesses of her exquisitely dark imagination. She pulled the door shut, locked it, and stood for a moment while I let the room soak in.

The room was redolent with the same incense perfume as the apartment. The light was dim - a combination of red bulbs in cans on track lighting on the ceiling complimented by black lights hung on the walls filled the room with a sinister purple glow. The walls were completely covered with squares of dark grey soundproof foam. The room was not large (perhaps 12x12, and obviously originally a second bedroom). It was filled with delightful instruments of torment, and furniture designed to restrain her victims.

As I took things in, she walked aropund me to the left wall where she had a dark wood throne on a small dais. She lit candles on iron holders on either side of it. I perceived that the chair had a hole beneath it under her backside. A submissive could be placed underneath. Immediately in front of me, a metal bar about 36" long with rings on it at the ends and in the middle dangled from the ceiling. A rope led to a pulley which lead to a hand-cranked winch at the right wall. Nearby was a small stocks, painted black, designed to hold just a man's cock and balls, fixed wo a board and frame beneath. Straight ahead of me was a wooden horse upholstered in shiny black with fixed rings clearly designed to be knelt over. At the back wall there was a black padded table, again with strategically placed rings and holes. Beside this was an "X" frame which it seemed could be either vertical, horizontal, or anywhere in between - a moveable St. Andrew's cross, upholstered in red vinyl, held in place by silver rivets. The wall to my left was covered by hooks, from which whips, floggers, and paddles of all descriptions hung. These were complimented by neatly wound lengths of rope, chains, and irons.

I was stunned at the expense she must have gone to to create this exquisite, amazing lair. The moving bookcase which hid this room was an added bonus. I'd always wanted a secret passage or hidden chamber - like a Scooby-doo mansion. Now I was in one. All my twisted fantasies seemed brought out into the light, exposed.

I was so happy that she'd caught me in chastity - what, four days ago now? I was determined to please her in any way that she demanded. I had never felt so completely powerless in another's perverted control, and the freedom was something new. I was reduced to a piece of quivering flesh and nerves for her torment and pleasure. I was her plaything.

"Stand," she commanded, indicating a spot beneath the bar attached to the winch. She removed the metal cuffs and stood behind me, hear breath on my neck, as she replaced them with soft, fleece-lined wrist cuffs, lifted my arms over my head, and, using silver carabiners, clipped the cuffs to the bar. She placed a 1x6x48" black board with three rings (at each end and in the middle) on it on the floor. "Stand on that. Legs apart." Another fleece lined cuff was attached at each ankle, then snapped to the board. My legs were wide-spread. She wrapped a length of hemp string over my cock a couple of times, and then around my balls, beginning at the base winding around, proceeding until they were stretched tight in the sack. Satisfied, she tied this off to the middle ring, stretching my balls down. She strode to the wall and turned the crank of the winch which clacked until my arms were stretched tight over my head. Once again, I was at her mercy.

"I'm going to give you a punishment for all of your frenzied masturbation sessions that you will not soon forget, my little slave."

She started slapping my erection, hard, with her bare hands. As it bobbed, it pulled against the tight ring of fire produced by the string pully my balls down. It seemed she was using all of her strength. My erection was turning a pale shade of purple. Reaching to a nearby table, she found a set of silver clover clamps, which, after twisting my nipples painfully, she attached. They stung, and I was helpless to do anything about it. I looked at the table, and saw several ominous looking sets of triangular weights. Each had a small golden ring at the top. She had tied them in sets of two. She picked up two of these sets and showed them to me before she dropped first one, and then the other, over the chain connecting the clover clamps. The clamps bit down even harder. It was excruciating.

Behind her was a full-length mirror so that I could see myself, and admire her stunningly sexy form as she stalked around me. She opened a drawer in the table and produced a heavy black leather hood. It had laces at the back, small silver nostril holes, and buckles to hold a thick blindfold and black ball gag in place. She pulled this over my head and I fought for breath for a moment as she pushed it over my face. Once the hood was securely laced, she placed the large black ball gag in my mouth, forcing it behind my teeth. She buckled it securely to the hood. It wasn't going anywhere. My breath was short by this time. She put a hand over my mouth and with her other hand held my nose tight. My eyes bugged as I struggled, without success, to breathe. I felt like I might pass out. She said, "Who is in control?" and released me. Sucking air through the gag, I tried to say, "You are, Mistress," through the gag.

"I'm having a hard time understanding you, slave boy. But I think you are beginning to understand your situation." I watched her cross to her arsenal of whips, pause theatrically with her gloved hand on her chin, and choose a 3-foot rattan cane. In the mirror, I could see the fear in my eyes.

I've seen videos with canes where the victim is left actually bleeding. On my computer I would quickly look away and click on to something more attractive. This would be way over my limit. I had no way to communicate properly with her. I had no idea how harsh she might be. The previous night had been the hardest I was ever used. Maybe she would be even more cruel in her own den. I was stretched such that I could barely move. All I could do was moan ineffectively into the gag, which brought a smile to her red lips. She tested the cane a couple of times in front of me. It cut the air menacingly.

She stepped behind me and brought it down on my backside with a whoosh and a smack. White hot pain, then another agony as I yanked reflexively against the rope tying my balls to the bar between my legs, and another bite as the clover clamps crushed my nipples as the heavy weights swung from the impact. My breath hissed through the drool that was forming at the edges of the gag as I tried to absorb the blow.

On the positive side, she hadn't broken the skin. As I came back down from the various agonies, this registered. I wanted more. I gurgled into the gag, "More please, Mistress. More."

"More, hmm? O.K." and she unleashed a series of blows too quickly for me to count as I writhed as much as I could in my bonds. My eyes began to well. I'd never been punished to tears in my life. Part of me watched the main in the mirror and though how exquisite this was. Another part of me was tied up in the experience of the pain itself, which was nearly all consuming.

My erection felt cold and was turning a darker purple. The pressure on my balls in their noose was agony. The pain in my nipples surged with every blow and would have been overwhelming in itself even without the even more excruciating pain of the cane on my ass and legs.

At last she slowed, and then, punctuating each word with a blow, she said, "This is what you get for spilling your seed alone, masturbator!" Then she hit me one last time, very, very hard. As if on cue, the left nipple clamp slide searingly off and then, pulled by the merciless weights, yanked the right clamp off and fell to the floor with a heavy "clunk."

She hugged me from behind and slid her cool hand over my purple erection lightly. She cooed in my ear, "I'll bet that you always let yourself off easy when you were playing with yourself. A bit too much, and you'd take the pain off at your pleasure. You won't get that mercy from me." She twisted my aching nipples. She was right. I'd never hurt myself nearly as badly as she had. I'd also never had my excitement ratcheted up to this level. The more it hurt, the more I wanted it. I was ready to do anything she asked, as long as she didn't stop.


Chapter 6: Deeper and Deeper (added: 2017/10/16)

Satisfied with my whipping, Mistress Melanie let me slowly down by the winch and let my arms free for a moment before she clipped them together in front of me.

She took a blunt scissors and cut the hemp string holding my balls to the spreader bar at my feet. She un-looped the string from my cock and balls, and it stung as heat and feeling returned to my purple member. She slapped my cold cock and sensitive balls, bringing "oof" sounds through the gag.

My jaw ached as she unbuckled the gag and removed the red ball from my mouth.

"I need your tongue for your reward for taking such a nice, harsh punishment for me and all the women who have unwittingly been a source for your excitement and masturbation. You owe me a debt."

She made me hobble toward the dais with short thwacks from the red riding crop she'd picked up again. "On your knees, slave!" she ordered when I'd negotiated the small step. She unclasped my wrists from in front of me, and left them free. She sat on the throne before me, her eyes cold. Then she unzipped her boots and removed them. She turned sideways in her throne and offered me her left foot, toes painted red, in the red fence net. "Massage my tired feet, slave."

I set to work enthusiastically. I used both hands to massage each beautiful foot from heel to painted toenail, with special emphasis on her delicate arches. I concentrated and made it a kind of worship.

"Now suck my toes, slave." She laughed, coolly. I hesitated for just a second, but she reminded me of my position with a swift slap of the crop to my right nipple. I took each toe, starting with her left pinky-toe, in my mouth in turn, gently sucking and tonguing each one through the red strings of her stockings.

"Enough!" she commanded, and she stood up, stalking around my kneeling, leather hooded but otherwise naked form, she assessed me again.

"Lie down with your face up beneath my throne." I found there was a sort of half-helmet waiting for my head in the dark wood box at the base of her seat. I slid my head into it, facing up. She lowered a piece of wood like a stocks over my neck. I heard a jangle of metal locks secured on either side. My ankles were separated, then my knees were pulled into my chest, ropes looped around them, and the ropes clipped to the arms of the throne.

I could only see directly above me through the strategically placed hole in the seat of the throne. My wrists were clipped over my head to rings at the chair's base. I was helpless and completely exposed, at her mercy.

I heard a rubber glove snap into place on her hand, and felt cold lubricant as her finger slid in and out of my ass. She laughed. I throbbed, and she must have seen it, because she said, "You really are an anal whore, aren't you? This is turning you on." She pushed an intruder, slim, but contoured, inside me, and she flipped a switch or turned a dial (I was in no position to see), and it started to hum, lodged against my prostate.

I heard a clinking sound, like a drink glass. Then there was searing cold as she held double-handfuls of ice to my cock and balls. Previously engorged with lust, my erection sank to a tiny stub, and my balls, aching, crumpled and tried to hide inside of me. There was no hiding at all in my current position, my legs secured high and back and all of my most sensitive parts spread and exposed.

I felt a metal ring slide over my cock and under my balls. Without my volition, my excitement started to return. The I felt a metal cap that covered my cock-head crush down my length to what felt like less than an inch. Something then locked it in place. She said, "Better." The vibrator lodged against my prostate was stimulating me crazily, but I couldn't get anywhere near hard as the tiny metal chastity device held my erection completely in check.

She lowered her naked, shaved pussy onto the throne. The only light was provided by two small air holds to either side of my face. Sensing what she wanted me to do next was not difficult. I could make out a small, dark freckle on her left lower lip in the dim box. The perfume of her was redolent in that small space. As I reached my tongue up to lick her wet, spread lips, I heard more metal on metal. Then I heard a sound I recognized as a hydraulic bottle-jack - the kind that usually lives in the bottom of a car trunk, and felt my head pressed upward from beneath forcing my mouth deep into her pussy, and almost suffocating me.

I licked and sucked and tantalized her with my tongue with every pillow-trick I'd ever learned. I sweated in the tiny space, and the lack of air made my head start to swim. My tongue found the nub of her clit and learned the contour of every millimeter of her. Soon, I felt her getting wetter. Then I could hear her moaning and shaking over me. Suddenly she was gone, and my damp face felt fresh air. I gasped, drinking it in.

"You've been a very good slave-boy. That that doesn't mean that I am satisfied. She'd walked around me. I could not see her, but I could feel her gaze and a light breeze on my obscenely displayed privates. I sensed move movement, then felt the distinct pinch of a clothespin on my already compressed ball-sack. I moaned in frustration and pain. "Quiet," she snapped, lightly slapping my balls. "If you can satisfy me, I will reward you. In my own time. If you are very lucky, I may allow you to cum tonight."

By this time, my balls were aching. The buzzing toy in my ass was driving me crazy. I could have taken, I think, almost any amount of pain, and I wanted to. Desperately. If only I could get sweet release.

And pain she administered. Pinching my ball sack tighter and tighter within the already tight metal circle of the chastity device, she was able to cover my balls in two rings of clothespins. Each pin felt like a flame. I was burning and aching.

She returned to sit on her throne and I was again cast into darkness, my face pressed into her sex. Again, I set to the work of bringing her to orgasm. My tongue began to ache with the effort.

Then, I felt the crop again. First lightly. Then gradually harder on the inside of my thighs. She worked her way toward my balls, and then began tapping the clothespins. She made the two rows dance with her crop. Then, to my agony, she smacked one of the pins free. An uncontrolled guttural cry burst from my throat. I was in SO much pain. But before I could recover, she struck again, and again. Tears were in my eyes. I squirmed and writhed, but had no hope of escape. I could not get enough air.

"Focus on my pleasure, slave boy. I don't care how much pain you are in. My pleasure comes first."

When she struck the pins off cleanly, they were bad enough. When they caught, part way off, they were agony. "The last one stays until I cum," she said heavily between her accelerating breaths. She continued to tap the last pin with the crop. With that incentive, I redoubled my efforts, ignoring the screaming ache in my balls. She came hard then, wet covering my tongue and mouth and the leather mask. Then she smashed the final clothespin from my balls. I can't remember the sound that burst from my lips, so strong was the sensation of pain.

She stood and looked down through the seat of her throne, her dark hair with its flecks of grey fell around her pretty face. "Are you ready for your reward, slave? I am not without compassion." She smiled.

She untied me, releasing all but the leather wrist and ankle straps and the leather hood. My cock still strained against the tiny silver chastity cap, and I was still hooded. The toy still buzzed against my prostate. She walked with me to the padded table. It stood almost waist height. I climbed onto it as she indicated. She secured my arms to the table at my sides. She pulled my thighs apart with heavy leather straps and secured them to either side of the table. My ankles were snapped to the base. She pulled another thick leather strop over my forehead, and when this was secure, I was prevented from moving my head - at all.

She turned a knob on the toy in my ass, and it buzzed much harder. I reflexively started moving my hips and humping the empty air above me as much as I could move. This caused her to cluck her tongue and produce another strap that she secured over my hip bones, immobilizing me completely.

"I can do anything I want with you, can't I," she said. "Yes Mistress," I agreed instantly. My voice was shaky with my building need.

The she produced a Hitachi wand. She displayed it menacingly over my head, then turned it on. Its buzz complemented the hum of the other toy inside of me. I wanted to shake. I wanted to hump it. I was desperate to get off.

When she pressed it to the burning hot metal of the chastity cap locked over the tip of my cock, I felt like I might explode. It was complete sensory overload. I was helpless to retreat from it or press myself harder against it.

Years of masturbating silently so as not to be heard built a wall of silence around my sex. That wall shattered and I started making noises I'd never heard myself make before. I was gasping and moaning incoherently - a ball of heightened nerves at her cruel mercy.

When I felt a Wartenberg pinwheel begin to glide over my chest, cutting swaths of painful lines across me, my groans intensified.

She paused and flicked the Hitachi to high. "Please, please, please..." I simpered between whatever those groans and gurgles were that were coming from me. I was in a frenzy. I needed to cum, but I wasn't sure that I could with no erection.

Then it happened, over what seemed to take many, many minutes, a slow eruption burst through the edges of the metal cap. I gasped and tried uselessly to thrash, but it went on and on. "Too much! Too much!" I could not free myself. I could not get away.

As I finally came down, she turned off the toy in my ass and the wand. She smiled. "You've made another mess," she said, holding the wand to my mouth. She forced me to lick some of my ejaculate off, cleaning it. Then she released me. She unlocked to tortuous little chastity device. She unbuckled the straps. She untied the hood and helped me pull it off my sweating head. The wrist and ankle cuffs came off. I was free.

"Well, that was fun," she said, much more lightly than she'd spoken before. "Want a shower? Go ahead and use a fresh towel from the cabinet. I'm starved. I'm going to head out to the kitchen and throw in a frozen pizza. What do you say?" Meet me out there...There's a robe in the bathroom for you, too."

Coming to my senses, I said, "Sure, that sounds great." I went to the bathroom. I removed and cleaned the toy that had been inside of me. I surveyed myself in the mirror. A few pink spots, but no permanent damage. I washed, and when I emerged, I could see her in her kitchen through the bookcase door, now clad in a fluffy white robe like the one she had loaned me. Her hair was wet. She was gorgeous.

"It's almost done," she said (about the pizza). "So, what did you think of that?"

"That," I replied sincerely, "was fantastic."

It was dark outside now, and the city was alive with lights below.

"So...I've been looking for someone to play with for quite a while now..." she began. We talked late into the night. She invited me to sleep over. In the morning before breakfast, we made love the vanilla way.

That was a while ago. We've been married for a decade now. We are the fulfillment of each other's fantasies. Some couples have dull sex once a week - if they're lucky. We are not one of those couples. At least a few times a week I find myself subject to her cruel mercies. And I could not be happier.

I have a very strong feeling that we're going to live happily ever after.