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Ninety Days

By: chasteguy



It started innocently enough, a playful comment made over dinner while we got to know each other. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was her playful grin that at once delighted me and gave me a sense of longing, something that told me that I like this smile and I'd like to see it more. Regardless, the result is evident and I guess the beginning circumstances no longer matter because here I find myself, a little more than three months later, held captive by her charms and near the point of begging for more. But as I sit here, nervously checking the street below through the crack in my blinds as she searches for a parking space on my street, I know I would make the same comment again and wish for the same answer and result.

When I see her walking up the street toward my flat, a pang of desire and excitement shoots straight to my caged cock. I've been confined in this cage for the past ninety days because she had the power to hold me to that comment made over dinner. Over the past three months we've seen each other often and each time I've asked for even a few minutes break from the cage she's reminded me that I had agreed as an initial condition of my submission to remain locked up for ninety days while we established a connection. The firmness and resoluteness with which she has managed her end of the bargain has surprised me and now, with the deal concluded, the thought of freedom and the volcanic orgasms that await me have me near trembling. In fact, the promise of release this evening has been at the forefront of my thoughts for the past six weeks.

I greet her at the door and she looks more beautiful than before, something that seems true each time I see her. Inviting her in, I take her bag and set it aside excusing myself while she strides into my flat with a confidence suggesting complete ownership. As has become our ritual, she seats herself comfortably in the high-backed chair in my parlor, crosses her legs and waits for me. I return, now naked, hand her a glass of white wine and kneel at her feet. We exchange pleasant conversation and laugh easily, each comfortable and content to be together again. Our arrangement has worked exceedingly well but now that our agreed upon three months has passed the future is uncertain and I wonder how or if I should broach the subject of the beyond. She speaks of it first.

"So, our three month agreement concludes this evening. Where does it go from here?"

"Yes, Ma'am, it does conclude this evening and I've thought of little else for quite some time now," I offer with a soft smile.

She reaches down with her right hand and takes my left nipple between her thumb and index finger, pinching it with medium strength but strong enough to cause me to buckle slightly. "I suppose," she begins, her fingers still locked on my nipple, "we'll see where it goes from here." She increases the pressure on my nipple and begins twisting it slightly clockwise. I whimper slightly which seems to encourage her as her grip tightens. With her left hand she reaches forward, grabbing a handful of hair on the back of my head and pulls me closer to her. She whispers, "I am going to hurt you tonight and I'm going to make you cry. And then, when I feel you've suffered enough for me, you shall have the reward I know you desperately need and want."

She gives a final vice-like pinch and twist to my nipple before releasing me. "Retrieve your collar, cuffs, the rope, nipple clamps and my favorite cane from the closet and set them here," she says while pointing toward the table. I rise, trembling slightly and move to the bedroom where the toy closet holds the tools of her desire. Carefully selecting all the items she requires, I return to the parlor and place them on the table before kneeling respectfully again at her feet. 

She glances over, checking to be sure that all the things she requires are properly assembled, then points to the cuffs. I select the wrist cuffs first, present each in order, my hand open, and palm up as she had instructed me in our first meeting. After she secures the wrist cuffs, a similar process occurs with the ankle cuffs, each leg presented to her, held erect and never touching her. Next she points to my collar and I present that with two hands while lowering my head and offering my neck, though we both know more than that is being shackled. Once my collar is locked firmly on, she instructs me to assume my position over the bondage chair.

I make myself as comfortable as possible with my legs spread wide on either side of the rear legs of the chair and then lean forward over the chair back with my hands resting on the seat. She works with practiced proficiency securing my wrists and ankles to the O-bolts screwed tightly into the chair. She moves around in front of me, flicks my right nipple to harden it then quickly attaches the clover clamp, repeating the same on my left nipple and then pulling down sharply on the chain connecting the two. I gasp immediately as the pain shoots through my chest. She laughs, takes my chin in her hand and raises my face to look at her. "We're only getting started," she says with a sadistic smirk before slapping me across the face with what seems like all her strength. Despite my best efforts, another whimper escapes me but I am immediately in my most submissive mindset.

I catch my breath and attempt to gain my composure as she walks from the parlor to the bedroom. When she returns she immediately slips a blindfold over my eyes then whispers, "I'm going to remove your cage now but even after I free your hands, you will not touch your cock unless I instruct you to, is that understood?" I nod my head in agreement, adding, "Yes, Ma'am" for good measure. 

She works quickly, snipping the plastic lock attached to my frenum before retrieving her key and unlocking the main lock. The cage slips off first and then she forces the ring from under my balls and pulls it off. The freedom, after ninety days of confinement, is like nothing I have experienced before and it's was difficult to keep my wits about me. The urge to stroke my cock is unbelievably strong, but I know better than to be disobedient and I'm thankful that my hands are bound.

"Thank you, Mistress, thank you so much," I say in barely a whisper.

She pauses, asking me, "What are you thanking me for, marc?" 

"Thank you for keeping me locked up Mistress and thank you for letting me out and, well, just thank you," is all I can manage.

She simply laughs and takes my cock in her hand, adding, "I'm sure you'll thank me again later, too, my boy." Her hand on my neglected cock causes it to begin growing instantly. She grips me tighter and in almost no time it has reached its full length and hardness. She strokes it slowly and methodically and soon my body is alive with intense pleasure. Through clenched teeth an almost inaudible "Oh Goddess" escapes me and then she stops, leaving my hard cock twitching just moments from exploding.

I hear her walking to the table and back and can sense her standing next to me upon her return. Her hand slowly moves up and down my exposed ass before that warmth is replaced by the thin, cool line of a cane. The first stripe of the cane stings me unexpectedly despite my knowing it is coming. She follows it with twenty-nine more in quick succession before thankfully pausing. 

She comes to stand beside me again, taking my cock in her hand and begins stroking it anew. She bends slightly forward and whispers in my ear, "We're just getting going." Through labored breath I stammer an almost non-committal "Thank you Mistress, I only want to please you." She tugs slightly on the nipple clamps and then strokes my cock for another few seconds, sensing somehow that much more attention and I wouldn't be able to hold back.

She steps back again, measuring the distance with her cane and then places it against my ass. The first swat finds the place she had hit the most in the first round and I can feel the skin burning in precise lines. She works more slowly and methodically with this set, calculating the strength and placement with precision. Somewhere around the tenth stripe I begin tightening my ass cheeks in hopes of lessening the pain. By the fifteenth my face is burning and my breathing labored while I hope only that I can make it to the end without losing it. At thirty she stops again and returns to the chain on the nipple clamps, pulling them in an up and down fashion which sends starbursts of pain through my upper chest. And then her hand finds my cock again. She stokes it slowly, the pre-cum leaking from the tip providing ample lubricant for her attentions. 

I begin mumbling, "Oh Mistress, oh Mistress, thank you, Mistress" until my voice trails off. She leans forward toward my ear, "Thank you for what, marc?" Through gasps of breath I manage to stammer, "Thank you for caning me Mistress, thank you so much. And thank you for stroking me." She laughs and then tells me sadistically, "I'm going to cane you more now, marc." I nearly scream, "Yes! Yes, please cane me more Mistress, please" as I try fucking her hand, completely aroused by her desire to inflict more pain. She releases my cock, backs up and without preamble begins a new set with greater strength. Although I try counting, I am delirious from the intoxicating combination of pain and pleasure and lose track of her strokes somewhere around eight. She continues through my cries and I can only assume she stopped again at thirty.

When she finally stops I feel like I am going to collapse and she senses it. She comes to me, places her hand on my shoulder and whispers, "You did very well, marc. But the night is only starting. I'm going to untie you and when I do you may relax, get a sip of wine and then come kneel at my feet." As she works to untie me I catch my breath, still trembling, completely aroused. I think of how amazing my orgasm is going to feel, how badly I need release and that maybe she is going to grant it now while I kneel before her. 

Once free from the bondage, I crawl to her as she makes herself comfortable in her chair. I kneel before her, my cock at rigid attention but my head cast down. "Touch your cock," she commands and I immediately take myself in my hand, stroking it slowly because I know too much friction too fast will lead to an orgasm I haven't yet been granted. Though still blindfolded, I imagine she is watching intently as I stroke my cock slowly and patiently. 

I hear movement and her right leg comes to rest on my left shoulder. Quietly, almost imperceptibly, I hear her fingering herself. I calm myself, fighting the urge to cum despite the overwhelming tingling and the building pressure in my balls. Tiny gasps and moans of pleasure pass from her lips and I can hear her working herself faster. Suddenly her finger is pressed to my lips and she gives an urgent command, "Taste my sex, marc." I greedily take her finger in my mouth, licking it and sucking it and wishing so badly she'd let me bury my face between her legs. "I know you want to lick me, marc. In fact, I know you'd do almost anything to lick me right now, wouldn't you?" she adds playfully. I stop stroking my cock for fear of cumming before responding. "Yes, Mistress, I only want to please you. I only want to give you pleasure" I whine while fighting the pulsating muscles of my own sex. She laughs, "Of course you will" and her moans begin again.

Her pleasure grows louder and the sounds of her fingers on her drenched pussy drive me closer to the point of no return. With a high-pitched moan she cums and I can feel her leg trembling on my shoulder. Her moans, interspersed with various curse words, trail off until she gives a final sigh. My cock, more swollen, hot and red than ever is only two or three deep strokes away from exploding, when I moan, "Oh, Mistress, please, I'm so close to cumming! I can't hold back any longer! Please, Mistress, may I cum?"

As if brought back to earth, she responds with a more serious tone than I've ever heard from her before, "No, marc, you may not cum. Stop touching yourself now."

As soon as she told me to stop touching myself, I do. I learned from our first encounter that her instructions are not to be second guessed or questioned, and they are to be implemented immediately. My hard cock twitched of its own accord and it took all my strength and training not to orgasm. Behind the blindfold I press my eyes closed tightly and my face contorts in concentration, staving off the orgasm building deep within me.

I sit panting, afraid to speak, while the preliminary spasms subside and she catches her breath in the chair in front of me. Her leg moves from my left shoulder and she takes a deep breath before speaking. "Crawl to the bedroom and kneel on the rug at the foot of the bed; I'll join you in a moment," and then she touches my cheek softly, reminding me of the intoxicating tenderness she can mix with her cruelty and establishing, with the simplest of touch, that she can have me any way she wants. 

I feel my way carefully toward the bedroom, using my right hand as a blind man's cane, thankful that we're in my space and I know where the obstacles, hidden from my view by the blindfold, wait to interrupt my progress. Once stationed at what I presume to be the center of the rug, I wait. The urge to touch myself grows stronger as the minutes pass although I dare not satiate that desire for fear of the consequences. 

Soon, I hear her heels clicking across the hardwood floors toward the bedroom and with each step my heart quickens with nervousness and excitement. She passes by me, her hand stroking my back and hair on the way as she makes her way to the closet. Returning, her steps come toward me. 

"I am going to remove your blindfold, but only for a moment, and I want you to climb onto the bed and lie on your stomach," she says in a measured tone. As she lifts the blindfold I keep my head down and rise carefully on to the bed, positioning myself in the center, my back up and still burning ass exposed. "Keeping your hands forward, bring your knees under you so your ass in the air," she quietly directs.

I quickly place myself in her desired position and once there the blindfold is returned to my eyes. Next she secures the wrist cuffs to the bed frame using rope, pulling my arms forward and tight. The distinctive sound of the spreader comes next and soon it is wedged behind my bent knees and it too secured with rope to the top of the bed frame. My ankles come last, spreading my legs wide and exposing my ass for her pleasure.

I hear her lift something from its hang in my closet and soon feel the harness gag being slipped over my head. Instinctively, I open my mouth for the ball as she expertly works the buckles and secures the gag. Immediately, I begin to lose myself in my helplessness but she isn't done. The leather hood comes next and as she laces the back and tightens it one eyelet at a time my mind reels with the thought of another caning. Once she finishes lacing the hood she buckles the back and the sound of the cold metal lock clicking into place sends the slightest of spasms through my body. My head encased in leather, the affects of the sensory deprivation take hold immediately. My cock grows hard again and she takes it in her hand. I try fucking it but my position makes mobility difficult. 

"I know how badly you want to cum, marc, but we both know my pleasure comes first. So you must wait." She grips my cock tighter causing me to moan and she adds, "I'm going to remove the nipple clamps now so take a deep breath." I fill my lungs with air and hold it while the first clamp comes off and with it the excruciating pain of blood rushing to the previously pinched nerves. She strokes my cock vigorously for a few seconds and without warning removes the second clamp, causing me to scream through the gag, knowing the full strength of my suffering is muted by it and the hood. She releases my cock but I continue thrusting forward at the air, fucking nothing. She bends forward, speaking directly into my ear, "That's right, fuck the air. Fuck nothing at all, something you should come to accept as your fate." I moan loudly and I can hear her chuckle as she moves away from me. 

After a few moments I stop, realizing the pointlessness of the exercise and catch my breath. I listen carefully to her movements behind me, hoping to recognize a sound that will give me some hint of what's to come. I don't have to wait long but instead of a sound it's the feeling of her finger, encased in a latex glove and covered with lube, gently massaging my rectum. Her finger slips in easily, is removed quickly and then inserted again with more lube followed by a second finger. The urge to fuck the air returns, my body rocks slightly forward and she reaches around with her free hand and takes my cock in her hand while her fingers work my ass. She finds my prostate and begins the slow, deep circular motions of milking. Releasing my cock, presumably because she knows I am close to cumming, she presses harder on my prostate and the familiar burning-like feeling begins in my cock. My body is alive and deep, guttural moans of intense pleasure mixed with extreme frustration fill the room. 

Leaving me trembling, she removes her fingers momentarily, applies more lube then slips three fingers into my ass. She works them back and forth, in and out, fucking my ass with her fingers and with each inward thrust I push back to meet her. She removes her fingers for only a second and quickly replaces the three with four fingers, brought together to form a probe-like wedge and pushes in carefully but deeply. My ass greets them by stretching further as she pushes in and out for a minute, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my torso. She removes her hand again and I know what was coming. 

She wiggles her fingers into me slowly, stopping once all five fingers are inside me but before the fullness of her hand can be squeezed through. With extreme delicacy, she pushes in deeper, twisting her hand from side to side as if playing with the dial on a radio. My ass is being stretched to nearly the ripping point but the desire to take all of her in somehow relaxes me and I open up a little more. She presses forward and soon the ball of her hand slips in with almost suction-like ease and once inside she carefully pulls her fingers into her palm, making a fist. She holds it there completely still for a few minutes while I tremble in place.

Her movements start slowly, an in-and-out rhythm coupled with side-to-side rocking. I moan through my gag, the sensation overwhelming and as her pace quickens, I begin shaking my head in a circular fashion, lost and oblivious to everything but the intensity of her fist buried deep in my ass. She continues rhythmically fist fucking me, seeming to care not that I am floating off to another place where she can hold me captive for as long as she chooses. In between my moans of ecstasy and desire, I catch the faint humming of a vibrator I assume she is using to give herself pleasure. The sound invites me into her world and I imagine she is fucking herself to the same rhythm and beat she's fist fucking me. When the thrusting of her fist intensifies and the delicious violence being inflicted upon me grows, so too does her moans of pleasure, mixing with mine in a din of desire. 

Through my hood and gag, I speak to her in tongues, begging and pleading to fuck me harder and deeper and never stop. The unbelievable sensations in my ass trace down the nerves through my body, ending at the tip of my cock. My desire to orgasm is uncontrollable and even without direct stimulation I feel it growing deep within me. But despite that familiar feeling, I am left just on the edge, unable to orgasm and happily drunk with frustration. 

Something close to a scream pierces the room and she presses her fist deeper and harder and more violently into me. After another few moments all movement and our shared moans stop, the only sounds in the room are the quiet humming of her vibrator and the labor of our breathing. With an angelic sigh, the humming soon ends too, leaving only the deep, subsiding sound of two people returning to earth.


Ninety Days Ch. 01



Ninety days, her mentor's had said. Give it ninety days. Should the interest persist beyond that they would arrange to see her fascination...sated. She glanced into the dark eyes before her with a shiver of apprehension, the slow swirl of heat in her belly belying any real fear, Michael's patient, amused profile in the background, turned toward the tiny Domme that had traveled with them as well.

For a moment, her gaze wandered over the interior of the mountain cabin, the brilliant sunshine pouring through the huge expanses of glass, caressing the sheen from the sensual woods that paneled the walls. Her eyes traced the wooden supports spanning the length of the great room, reveling in the shiver that stole over her as her mentor and the tiny sadistic Domme uncoiled the ropes and unbound the chains that would, shortly, restrain all three slaves in the room.

"Yes," Sir Guys words throbbed, quietly complacent, at her ear, startling her attention back into focus. The tall, powerful Dom had caught her interest three months ago with His persistence and gentle persuasion, an old soul with a gentility that she simply couldn't resist. He'd petitioned her mentors for an introduction. 

His fingers; strong, tender, brushed the nape of her neck, arousing a greedy flame of sensation from the circlet of tiny bite marks left behind by the Domme during their plane ride out. That, in turn, stirred and rekindled the aching bruises on breasts and thighs that Domina had left to mark her own interest. The event may, indeed, have been a disappointment but Cyn had little doubt the weekend would be anything but exquisite.

"Kneel for me," quietly decisive, the command swirled over raw senses, dropping her to her haunches in liquid response, knees splayed wide, the hem of her short skirt riding high against her flesh, back arched to offer the full swell of her breasts as a sensual feast. Her palms, held upwards in supplication, rest lightly on thighs slicked with the sweat of anxiety and sensual hunger. Head back, blonde tresses a chaos of swirling silk at her shoulders, her eyes, darkened with ardor, glance respectfully away.

"Gods, girl," the husky timbre in his voice coursed through her like honeyed whiskey. He knelt beside her, one finger freeing her bottom lip from the clutches of her own teeth. The feel of his lips; soft ,subtle, tasting her for the first time left her breathless, one large hand sliding up the nape of her neck, burrowing deeply into the roots of her hair.

Her own gasp was a soft mewl of frenzied need, her lips struggling against his as they hardened on hers, demanding entrance, parting and plunging beyond their boundaries as his other hand stole around one tiny wrist. The thrust of his tongue threw her senses whirling, her body fighting to remain kneeling even as it coveted the feel of him melding against her.

Shuddering, the kiss deepened yet further and Cyn felt her responses with aching awareness; the heated, swollen heaviness of her breasts, aching for contact; the pool of liquid heat coalescing into raging sensual fervor in her belly, between her legs, in the sheen of sweat that slicked the valley of her breasts; the sweet, blissful pain of his hand tugging deeply at her hair...

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he dropped the hand that tangled so deliciously through her tresses to grasp her other wrist, encircling it with fingers hard with coiled tension. His teeth, imprisoning the sweet delicate flesh of her lower lip, bit down and he stood, pulling her with him.

"Be still," the command, edgy and decisive, brooked no response save obedience. She stilled, their bodies within centimeters of each other, her arms held high above her head in his grip, his breath, sweet, hot and rousing feathering lightly over her temple. Her own breath, heavy, belabored, eager with hunger brought her breasts to brush lightly against him with each soft pant, her nipples raging with tender heat at each contact.

"Oh God," the aching, yearning plea that spilled without conscious volition from parted lips left him chuckling above her, his eyes, black and primal, alight with humor and dazzling power.

"Yes, I'm here." Not a question, his tone so replete with satisfaction it made her shudder.

The frenzied squeal of a younger slave pealed through the room, distracting both of them for a moment. He laughed yet again, feeling Cyn's shudder of commiseration in his arms as they both took in the cherry red flesh left behind from Domina's agile fingers. 

A shimmer of chains descended from the rafters, Jesse's fragile wrists encased in the soft, pliable knotted rope that was so much Domina's signature, strung up on her tiptoes. For a moment, Cyn felt her attention waver, her eyes taking in the graceful and inspiring shibari creation the sweetly sadistic Domme had concocted in so little time. Each knot an art form in itself, placed with exquisite care to stroke sensual points and energy lines to a fervor, as the night wore on. She felt the strength of his fingers tighten on her wrists.

Further down, across the room, a second set of chains cascaded in sullen promise. From them descended the writhing, kicking figure of Tempari, a hell cat submissive that had met her match in both Michael and Tezza. Her ankles, encased in the thick, unlined leather restraints that were Michael's favorite disciplinary measure, were strung from the chains, her body straining and turning in circles, her palms scrabbling uselessly at the polished wooden floor. 

She'd arrived with Domina, who'd tried to council her on the Gorean belief system...its traditional and very conservative approach, but hadn't made a dent. A playful, taunting and delectable creature, Tempari had crossed the line several times in as many hours with Tezza and later, Michael.

Armed, each of them, with cane in hand, Cyn didn't envy the girl the next couple of hours. The culmination of the evening would be sweet indeed, for they'd see to that...she winced as Tezza's stroke came down decisively against one tender foot, and turned her attention back to Sir Guy.

Startled to find the midnight eyes intent on hers, she blushed, aware that he'd taken in every fleeting emotion that adorned her features. His gaze lifted, glancing gently at the third set of chains before narrowing on hers once more.

"Are you ready?" the phrase was followed, as he dropped one hand to her breast, by the soft exploration and sudden, fierce squeeze of a nipple, leaving her eyes swimming with tears of sensual abandon. She bit her lip, blinking back the sensual haze and nodded.

"Are you ready?!" his hand dropped lightly beneath the hem of her skirt, cupping her heat with the lightest of touches. Helpless to resist, Cyn feels herself cleaving to his touch, his fingers tightening into a deliberately cruel grip of the soft folds of her flesh, bringing a ringing cry from her lips that solicits a chuckle from Domina across the room.

"Yes! Please, yes..." the musky, spicy scent of her own arousal drifts up around them and she blushes lightly at her wanton response to the man.

He radiates power, a presence that is palpable to every sense she owns and she watched his eyes narrow, going from mist to midnight as he recognized the depth of her reaction. Agile fingers slipped beneath the scrap of silk between her thighs, homing in on the heart of her sex with innate skill. She felt the well of slick heat, held back only by arousal-swollen lips, surge, slicking his fingers, his palm... The quiet hitch in his breathing, the soft grunt of approval and delight, fire her senses to new heights as he strokes her...too lightly...taunting her with his butterfly touches, gathering her heat on his fingertips and bringing them slowly first to his lips, then her own.

The quick turn and almost abrupt tug of Guy's hand on her wrist left her all but sprawling in his wake as he led her toward the third set of chains. With a length of rope swiped from our neighbor, first one wrist, then the next soon sported bracelets of flexible knots. His hands, large, masculine, rough and rousing, slide up her arms, thumb caressing the pulse at her elbow, lips pressed to the pulse at her wrist.

"Are you ready?" The phrase taunts her, eyes pinned to his, spilling every secret held in her soul... 



Ninety Days Ch. 02



Sometimes life gets in the way and busy schedules don't allow for other pursuits. Mistress and I hadn't played in nearly a month and although we shared intimacy, I was growing anxious for more. Compounding matters was the fact that although Mistress had told me I'd remain in the punishment cage for only two weeks until we could find a suitable cock for me to pleasure, it was coming up on a month and I was growing more desperate for release. One evening over dinner at my place I got up the nerve to ask.

"Mistress, I know we've both been incredibly busy lately but thought I was supposed to stay locked in the punishment cage for only two weeks until we found the right boy, and so I was wondering if perhaps we could make an exception as I really need release. Because Mistress, it has been almost four months since the last time I had an orgasm and I'm not sure I can take it much longer."

She set her fork down and dabbed the side of her mouth with her napkin. "Marc," she began, "you've been very strong and very good, and I'm proud of you. But perhaps it's time we had a conversation about us and where we're going."

I swallowed hard, my stomach suddenly knotted because I didn't want to be released. And I think in that moment I realized that I had fallen in love with her and couldn't bear not having her in my life. 

She continued. "I think I know what's best for you and for us, don't you?" With my heart pounding and my eyes cast down, I offered a whisper-quiet "yes, Mistress." She reached out and took my hand before speaking again. "In this relationship, I expect total control when it suits me. I don't know where that will lead in the future and I know that things will change and evolve over time, but for now I have a few rules that you must accept, beginning with chastity. You will be kept in chastity and denied release for as long as I choose. And that includes breaks from the cage. I do not want limits placed on this. There will be no more ninety days or two more weeks or anything of the sort. You should expect the cage to be a permanent fixture and it will be removed by me when I choose and only when I choose. You must trust that I know what's best for you in this regard and know how best you can please me, is that understood?" 

I swallowed hard again and glanced up at her quickly before looking down again and whispered, "Yes, Mistress, thank you." My cock grew hard in the cage as I began to fully grasp what I had just agreed to. A slight tremor pulsed through my body but I somehow managed to retain my composure.

"Now," Mistress continued, "I have been busy as you know and finding a suitable boy has been more difficult than I expected. I am not simply looking for a random cock to dangle in front of your face. I am looking for a boy who will become a part of us and be a part of our relationship. He will be someone we share as I determine. And this brings me to my second rule even though it should really go without saying, I just want to be clear. From this day forward, you may not give any sexual pleasure nor receive any sexual pleasure unless I decide it to be so. Is that understood?"

She was right, it didn't need saying but I appreciated her stating the rule nonetheless. I nodded my head in agreement and was about to add a comment when she continued. "My third rule, and you can assume there will be more in due time, I'm making to help you fulfill a fantasy. Because I'm kind that way," she added with a playful smirk. "From this day forward, although this could change, you will only orgasm from being fucked in the ass. Not from masturbation; not from receiving oral. And of course you'll never have intercourse again, so only from being fucked in the ass. Let's hope whoever is fucking you has staying power," she concluded with a laugh. 

I sat there dumbfounded. She had said early on in our courtship that she expected me to share all my thoughts with her, no matter how bizarre or how I thought her reaction might be. I had expressed the desire to orgasm only that way in an offhanded, half-joking way one evening on the phone. I made a mental note to be more careful what I wish for because I feared those desires too could come true.

Although I couldn't bring my eyes to look at her and instead focused on the halibut on my plate I'd made for dinner, I knew she was looking at me and I knew she waited for a response. I took a deep a breath and looked up. "Mistress, I only want to please you and serve you and obey you and I promise to do my best in that. But I'm wondering if these rules are up for any form of negotiation," I added timidly. She looked at me and smiled. "You know I'm perfectly reasonable and I care about you tremendously, so of course I'll listen to and consider any reasonable argument you have as to why these simple rules shouldn't be implemented immediately."

I looked at her, searched all the corners of my mind and somehow came to the conclusion that "because this will be so hard" wasn't an acceptable argument. I opted instead for the typical buying time method. "Thank you, Mistress. May I please have some time to think about it?" And that's when she got angry, something she had never done before. 

"No, Marc, you may not have 'time to think about it'. What do you think we're doing here? Is this some game to you? We've been seeing each other for nearly four months and I've made my expectations clear all along! I expect you to obey my desires and that's final!" she fumed. I suspect the blank expression on my face conveyed the wrong message. To be sure, I was shocked that she raised her voice and displayed such a demanding demeanor. But at the same time, as was evident by my extreme arousal, she had touched a chord that I didn't know existed within me and never would have suspected she could play in a manner that made me want to throw myself at her feet and beg for forgiveness that I'd ever doubt her.

I stammered out an answer. "Of course we're not playing a game Mistress and of course I'll do as you please. This is going to be incredibly difficult for me and I only hope I don't disappoint you," I added to make sure she knew I meant what I was saying. She smiled and said, "Very well. I knew you would see things my way."

We finished our dinner in near silence but the air did not hang heavy with animosity. Rather it was charged with a certainty that the path we were headed down was correct and right and that perhaps we were only beginning to understand the reality we would create. As we finished our meal and I began clearing the table Mistress moved over to the couch and picked up her book, calling to me to join her when I finished with the dishes. 

Having finished my chores, I came and sat next to her on the couch. She placed her feet in my lap without looking up from her book and I, without needing to be told, began massaging them and rubbing them, kneading out the stress from her day. This had become something of a ritual between us and one I wasn't sure who enjoyed more. She continued reading while I rubbed and pressed her feet, relieving her stress, desperately wanting to kiss and suck on her toes but I had learned long before not to initiate such desires. We stayed like this for perhaps thirty minutes, Mistress reading and me becoming increasingly frustrated while I rubbed her feet, all the while my mind replaying our earlier conversation and her rules as well as my unvoiced fantasies and desires regarding pleasing and serving her. 

Mistress set her book down and looked at me. "I think it's time for bed and tonight I'd like a massage." With that she got up from the couch and moved toward the bedroom. I went about turning down lights, getting us each glasses of water for the bedside and my other typical nightly duties before joining her in the bedroom. She was already naked, sprawled across the bed on her stomach with her arms and legs splayed to either side. I removed my clothes, considered putting on a nightgown for bed, but decided to sleep naked unless instructed otherwise. Taking the bottle of Jasmine-scented oil from the bedside table I poured a goodly amount in my hands and warmed it slightly. 

Mistress sighed immediately when my hands ran down her back, coating it with oil, stopping just above her ass before returning back up to her shoulders. It can sometimes be difficult not to bump Mistress with my caged cock but as my hands worked her shoulders and my erection grew inside the cage causing it to extend forward, it would tap her every once in a while. The pain on my cock from the dual points of intrigue was intense, growing more so as my erection fought for a place to go, seemingly not accepting the confinement she has chosen. I tried to focus instead on kneading the knots from her shoulders and neck, working down her back, across and along her waist and then up again to her shoulders.

"Massage my ass, too," Mistress purred and I didn't need to be told twice. I poured more oil onto my hands and began massaging her ass, rubbing it from top to bottom and around the sides, careful not to get too close to her hole unless she requested it. "And my thighs," she added. I worked those gently, using my fingers as if I were playing the piano. As I moved my hands up and down her inner thighs, my desire to touch her sex was almost uncontrollable. The cage began pressing against Mistress's leg and I was quickly losing my ability to control myself. 

"I do so adore having that cage locked on you," Mistress cooed as I continued rubbing down her thighs. "Thank you, Mistress," I replied honestly. She continued, "I adore it so much that I can easily envision never taking it off." My cock pulsed and my hands began to tremble and almost unconsciously I brushed against her labia while I continued kneading her inner thighs. She was hot and damp and I whimpered quietly as I moved my fingers back down toward her knees. "You would like that, wouldn't you Marc? Being permanently locked in chastity, constantly frustrated, having to exist solely for my pleasure?" I let out a slow, deep breath, choosing my words carefully before responding. "I have fantasized about it, yes. But I don't know if I could do it Mistress or how practical it would be," I replied, "and, well, I'm just not sure. But I have thought about it, Mistress." My hand inched back up toward her pussy and my arousal and frustration got the better of me and I let my fingers glide for several moments up and down her labia. By now she was very hot and growing wetter and I wondered if it was the massage, our conversation or private thoughts of her own that was arousing her. 

"Tell me more," she prodded as my fingers returned to her pussy, perhaps more boldly than they should, although her sigh of pleasure seemed to invite me in. "Well, Mistress," I began bashfully, fighting to keep from trembling as I gave life to one of my deepest held fantasies, "I have always dreamt that maybe when I found the Mistress I thought I could spend the rest of my life with that together we'd create a permanent, keyless lock so that once it went on it was forever." Involuntarily, I worked my fingers into Mistress's pussy a little harder, finding that spot deep within her where her body responded most to touch. "Mmm. Nice," Mistress said through her sighs of pleasure. I pressed harder inside her, rubbing her the way she had taught me, my fingers deep within her while every once in a while my thumb would trace over her swollen clit.

I continued. "But Mistress, just these past few weeks have been so incredibly difficult for me that I'm not sure I could handle permanent chastity. Maybe it's something that could be worked up to, over time, but I don't know," I said. Her breathing was becoming more labored and now her body was pressing into my hand, meeting my motion with practiced proficiency. "Work up to it, yes," she said as my hand continued fucking her. "Maybe that's what we'll do, as an initial goal," she added. I was slightly confused by the caveat of 'initial goal' and curiosity got the better of me and so I asked what she meant. She started fucking my hand even harder and I sensed that it was her private thoughts that now compelled her. I struggled to keep my fingers on her G-spot while simultaneously rubbing her clit with greater urgency and before she could answer my question her body began to tremble as waves of pleasure pulsed through her body. Her hips bucked as she ground her pussy into my hand before her body suddenly collapsed and she sighed contently.

I removed my finger slowly, licked her juices from my fingers and then went into the bathroom to wash up. When I returned, Mistress had rolled onto her side facing me and softly patted the spot on the bed next to her. "Lie on your back," she whispered and I did as I was told. My cock, still hard and nearly bulging out of the bars of the cage, throbbed with frustration and I was still slightly trembling as I took my place next to her. She reached out with her right hand and gripped my cage-encased cock, played with the skin through the bars of its confinement, and then stroked the entire length, causing the points of intrigue to bite even more ferociously into the head. I whimpered, my breath tumbling out of me like a sob. Without removing her hand from the cage, she leaned over, kissed my neck and said, "Yes, initial goal. Now, goodnight." I knew better than to ask her again and so with questions swirling through my head and frustration greater than anything I had experienced before, I closed my eyes and begged for dreams to come swiftly.

A few days later Mistress surprised me, dropping by unexpectedly. It was early evening and I had gotten out of the bath maybe fifteen minutes earlier and after moisturizing my smooth skin, was sitting on the edge of the bed, still naked, painting my toenails. I hadn't heard her come in, in part because I was concentrating on the task at hand but also because I was lost deep in thought, daydreaming about her. 

I jumped when I saw her there, leaning against the door jam, arms folded across her chest, watching me. "Honey," I nearly screamed, "You scared me half to death! How long have you been there?" She smiled at me. "Just a moment or two. I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop in for a little bit. You don't mind do you?" she asked rhetorically. "Of course not, my Goddess," I replied, "you know I wish you were here all the time." I finished my last nail, closed the bottle of polish and turned my gaze to her. "You look especially beautiful this evening. May I get you anything?" I asked as I wondered over to the closet to get a robe, walking on my heels so as not to ruin the drying polish.

"I'd like some tea please," she called to me as she made her way into the living room. After pulling the silky blue robe over me I wandered into the kitchen, walking carefully, and started boiling water. When I returned to the living she was sitting on the sofa thumbing through a copy of Gourmet Magazine. I seated myself next to her carefully, not wanting to wreck my freshly polished and still damp nails. She leaned forward and kissed me hard on the lips, placing her hand on the back of my neck and pulling me tighter into her. As our lips pressed together I became immediately aroused, although it didn't take much these days to accomplish that feat as Mistress kept me in a constant state of frustration, even when she wasn't there. As we kissed I realized that she was becoming rougher lately in a more masculine sort of way and I wondered if it was a phase she was going through or something else. The kettle started hissing on the stove and she reluctantly broke our embrace, pushing me away with a simple "Organic Green Tea, please." 

I prepared her tea and brought it to her on a saucer with a spoon. I was slowly learning her simple pleasures and attempted to anticipate her needs whenever I could. Like so many things, as they became patterns they simply took on a routine-like mindlessness and in this manner my service to her became second nature. And we both seemed to like it that way. We chatted about our day while her tea steeped and it was only with great difficulty that I could keep my hands off her. Either her growing dominance or hints of masculinity, or my submission, increasing femininity and resignation to chastity, or more likely a combination of everything about us, sexual or otherwise because all the lines seemed to have become blurred in the heavenly fog that shrouded us, I was by now completely in love with her although I hadn't yet voiced the words. 

She brought the steaming mug to her mouth, gently blew on it and took a sip, before setting it back down again. "Marc," she began, "I have a date with a boy this evening." My heart started pounding immediately, an odd mixture of excitement, fear and insecurity. "I see," was all I was able to spit out of my mouth, my mixed emotions most likely evident on my face. Mistress laughed. "Silly! I think he might be our boy," she said, emphasizing the word 'our' and beaming at me. My eyes lit up, something like relief washed over me although the rapid beating of my heart never slowed. She seemed nervous and excited, almost giddy, as she described him to me. He did seem like all the things we wanted but there was still so much to learn. 

As we had discussed before, she would establish the beginning of a relationship with him first and then introduce him into ours. My mind wandered a bit while she talked as I imagined this long-held fantasy for both of us possibly coming to fruition. There was nervousness to be sure, but that was to be expected. 

Mistress finished her tea and excused herself to freshen up before her date. I watched from the bed as she touched up her make up and straightened her blouse. I was impossibly aroused watching her and knowing she was primping for a date with another man; someone who could potentially become a lover to both of us. I took a sip of wine while she was finishing up and then rose to walk her out. As we walked toward the door she told me she wanted me to wait up for her and I promised that I would. As I opened the door, she turned to me, kissed my lips quickly then whispered in my ear, "I love you" before she bit my ear lobe and stepped out the door. I called to her back as she was walking away, "I love you too. Have fun tonight!" and with that she was down the steps and out of sight.

I leaned against the door frame, the door still open, the cool breeze brought on by the San Francisco summer evening fog swirling through the street below like dreams searching for sleeping minds to inhabit.



Ninety Days Ch. 02



Copyright Heidi Michelle 2008

Slowly, she awakens, drifting through the stages of slumber as if swimming up from the bottom of a pond, its murky depths replaced by the feel of soft cotton and warm down coddling her bruised and battered body.

"It will change you, Cyn. As much as My presence has changed your life, this experience will change you." Michael's words from what felt now to be years ago, play back softly in her mind.

As the previous evenings events dance through her imagination, she feels a moment of utter desolation. She'd underestimated her mentor, yet again. In the beginning, nearly eighteen months ago when they'd met, he'd patiently explained to her that...things would be different. He represented a lifestyle she knew nothing about and He would willingly share that, but slowly, in bits and pieces, permitting her to acclimate herself – and to pull back, if she felt the need. 

Soft laughter spills from her lips at the memory. She'd wanted him with an intensity that'd left her breathless, from the first moment His dark eyes had perused her and absolutely from the moment he'd opened His mouth. His confidence and surety, the sense of strength and ability that emanated from Him, coupled with a wry sense of humor, a very sharp intellect and understanding of human nature, and an endlessly generous nature left her rather wide eyed in awe and desperately attracted to him. There'd been no "pulling back" on her part, she'd wanted to experience it all, immediately, and had found herself frustrated with the slow pace of each new experience. 

Using her own sexual hunger as the carrot and withholding any contact as the whip, He'd led her, step by step, down the paths of His very structured lifestyle and she'd followed eagerly, often chafing at the restrictions He put before her. 

He'd started with a course on manners. She laughs again, remembering her reaction to that, the indignance and belligerence that followed and his patience in waiting. In the end, she'd given in, learning the ritual responses that, initially, had made her so uncomfortable and self conscious, but had come, with time, to represent her respect for Him. Slowly, she'd earned her first level of trust, appreciation, and pride from Him. Gentle kisses had become longer, stronger, more demanding, leaving her aching with longing when he inevitably broke them off. 

Next, He'd taught her the positions that her submission to His will would take and again, the unfamiliarity of such a thing left her feeling awkward and uncertain. She learned them, from the position of "display", where her body is offered up in willing submission, to "nadu", a kneel of ultimate respect and willing, complicit surrender, she'd learned them all. But it wasn't until Michael had taken her to a private facility, to sit behind screens and watch as slaves and Master's interacted in what, for them, was a normal social situation, did she understand. And her life had changed. The beauty of each move, the admiration and respect that glowed in each slave before her, the lithe sensuality of every single move, each to reflect the girls individuality and complete, total surrender. Something inside of her ...moved....her perceptions of herself and her Master changing subtly, her belly glowing with the heat of that change. And his eyes, so dark, had narrowed on her face and body, taking in every emotion that flitted across her features. Suddenly, the glow of those slaves on the floor – was hers. His gaze, so darkly intent, flared with recognition and a pride that shook her to her very foundations.

It had been later that night, for the first time, that he'd undressed her. 

~~~

"Display yourself for Me, Cyn." The gentle, slow cadence of His speech, filled with a power that taunts her, tumbles through her senses like a force of nature. Their kisses had never led to anything more, before this, and it takes her a moment to understand the command. Slowly, she backs off, taking a step away from him, her mind trembling with a contrast of emotions. 

Dropping her eyes from His, looking anywhere but at Him, she stands there, shivering, and slowly spreads her legs...just enough so that His hand may rest there comfortably if he so deems. Heat sweeps through her as her mind grasps the reality of the instructions that she's learned from Him. His gift to her is her gift to him, complete and total surrender. Her weight is spread to the balls of her feet, giving her the supple ability to flow into whatever the next pose might be and her hands find their way backward, her wrists crossing in the small of her back. And finally, she raises her head, keeping her eyes lowered, a blush of heat coloring her cheeks. 

"Yes, Cyn," Satisfaction tempered by amusement suffuse His tone as He takes one stride toward her, tipping her chin upward and meeting her gaze with his own, holding it. His fingers drift downward, to the straps of the dress at her shoulders, sliding them gently down. The zip in back gives way to His nimble fingers and the slide of heated silk over cool flesh leaves her breathless.

"Beautiful." To this day, that is still her favorite phrase of His. Replete with satisfaction, pride and the thrill of sensual alertness, it flows over her soul like champagne, heightening senses to an exquisite degree.

Her bra and panties follow, His hands playing havoc as they touch, caress and tease her flesh. For the next hour He runs her through the gamut of positions and for the first time, they flow from her with a natural sensuality that staggers her. From Display, to Bara , then down to a crawl, back to a kneel of respect and then at the last, the Karta stance, kneeling on the floor. She is panting, every nerve alive with not only sensual hunger but the joy of presenting herself to Him...and the utter bliss of His reciprocal appreciation. 

He has moved the footstool and she is kneeling on the cold slate, her thighs spread almost impossibly wide, in front of His favorite chair. Her bottom nearly brushes the leather as she leans forward, pressing her breasts to the floor in front of her, long silken locks of hair falling over shoulder and outstretched arms, her heart pounding, her belly pulsing with need as she hears Him, behind her, settle into his chair.

Moments of silence pass, her mind racing, unable to see Him. She can smell her arousal in the air between them, feeling the throb of her sex and the slow, inevitable slide of moisture over swollen lips and eager thighs. Moments turn to minutes, her gaze drifting to the golden slate between her thighs and the inevitable first slick slide of arousal that darkens its surface. Color blooms hot and heavy on her cheeks.

His chuckle, deep and full of pleasure, strokes her ears, her flesh, even as His fingers run over the wet slick of her inner thighs.

"You are the most beautiful thing in my world, Cyn," He purrs, the underlying passion in His words a heady narcotic for her already heightened senses. His fingers play lightly around her sex, feather touches

"Michael," it is a plea, adoring and demanding at the same time. She lifts her head, needing to see Him and finds him sitting forward in His chair, jeans unzipped, hard arousal clenched gently in one fist, fingers playing lightly over a foreskin glistening with beaded excitement. His gaze turns cold, eyes narrowed, the hand between her legs pulling away.

The sound of flesh on flesh, as His palm comes down hard on the full rounded curve of one buttock is shocking, as hot and painful as the look in his eyes is cold.

"Return to your pose, pet, and never, ever anticipate me. This...this is for me."

Her eyes fill, stung by the totality of His displeasure and stunned by her own wanton reaction to the slap. Pleasure courses through her veins like a drug, the throb of the handprint on her ass an ephemeral and ghostly caress. She returns to the pose as He's directed.

As if nothing out of the ordinary has occurred, his fingers resume their play, tracing the reddened and swelling outline of his touch before dropping lower to tease her lips apart and bask in the wet heat that adorns them. She can hear the gentle slurp of her flesh clinging wetly to his and also the faint susurration of his other hand, playing with himself and bites back a soft whimper of frustration. Slowly, his fingers move upward, bathing that smaller hole in gentle lubrication and bringing the breath to still in her throat. Then, reversing their course, they delve down, finding the nub of her pleasure and fondles her slowly, feeling for her reaction.

"Does that feel good, pet? Do you like that?" His beautiful voice, velvet and chocolate, is almost cold, as if He's taking notes, recording an experiment. 

"Yes, Michael..I..I like that." Confusion and bewilderment color her voice uncertain and he laughs, a short, wry laugh.

"What do you wish to be for me, Cyn?" His question is posed in the same voice, like a curious onlooker.

"...I wish only to be yours, Michael?" The pause at the beginning and the question mark at the end do not please Him and His demeanor changes rapidly.

"For months I have spent my time with you," his fingers slide upward, pressing into the heart of her sex with one slow, full thrust and she feels Him move forward in His chair. The other hand came around her hip, descending on her clit and with several hard, sure strokes has her panting and mewling, struggling to hold her pose, slipping on the very edge of climax. "And still you question. What do you wish to be for me, Cyn?!"

"Anything! Everything!" The response is wrung from her without volition and she is stunned at the truth and the power behind them.

"I believe you." The simple statement is full of acceptance. "Stop. Be still." His hands have stopped and she blushes to realize her hips buck against them, teetering so very close she has a hard time complying.

"You have a beautiful body, little pet, one I look forward to knowing every inch of when the time is right." His hands grip her hips, stilling them completely. She feels his knees spread to each side of her and then feels him position himself, the engorged head of his cock sliding slowly over the dripping lips of her pussy, nuzzling between them, sliding the length of her slit. "I ache for you Cyn...every day." He brings himself upward until his glans rests against that smallest, puckered hole and presses, gently, creating an ache that competes with the one in her heart. "But...for now, it is time for you to go to bed. Goodnight little pet."

She'd felt it coming, knew it and in her mind rebelled against it hard, but something had changed inside her today. She no longer just wanted...she needed...to be part of this...to belong to Him, to be owned, to be Mastered. For the briefest of seconds, she hung her head, breathing hard. Then she raises herself from the floor, resting on muscle weary haunches, her back straight and proud as she rises to her feet.

"Yes, Michael." The words were hard to say against the knot in her throat and tears slipp lightly down her cheeks. "Master?"

"Yes Cyn?" She hadn't missed the swift intake of breath behind her, or the pause before His words and her body thrills to each.

"May I kiss You goodnight?" listening to herself, she sounds like she's seven.

"Come, little pet." His words were gentle with an underlying throb that was...different, somehow.

Most men, she mused, would look silly sitting in a chair, holding themselves like that. But He..He looks like a King with His scepter. For a moment a giggle threatens to burst from her lips and the illicit thought about just what kind of a kiss floats through her mind for just a second before she banishes it to the darker depths of her mind. She turns, slowly, and pads sensually back to His chair, lowering herself in Nadu that for the first time, feels...right. She lifts her eyes to His, biting her lip, her expression one of apology and contrition. "I'm sorry, Master...for...not understanding."

For one endless moment, she gazes into the depth of those black eyes, watching the pupils first dilate then contract to pinpoints. His hands reach out, first to her shoulders, then her hips and he lifts her into his lap, burying his hands deeply into the roots of her hair. Slowly, he pulls her face backwards, away, staring at her as if He's never seen her before.

"Wrap your legs around my hips, pet." The words are husky, almost forced as he drops his lips to the tops of her breasts, nipping, sucking and biting as she complies, his hands guiding her hips closer, snugging her sex against the base of his cock so she can feel the twitch and throb of Him against her. Then, his hands lift yet again, burrowing into her hair, bringing her face to His.

"Don't move unless I tell you, don't say a word ...beyond your whimpers of pleasure and...do not cum until I say you may. Do you understand?"

"Yes Master." For a moment her world blurs, arousal coursing through her like she'd never imagined, pounding at her temples, a steady rhythm in her nipples, belly and sex...even to the arches of her feet she could feel her need drown her senses.

"Ohhh, little slut. I LIKE that." 

She turns emerald eyes, hazy glazy with the moment, up to the gaze above her, reveling in the power His words hold for her. Greedy wanton hunger coursing through her feels meshed in a cage created of her need to please Him and she shudders with the power of it.

"Yes." It was a grunt, almost a groan, purely male and so loaded with hunger she feels like she is drowning. His lips descend on hers, his hands on her nipples and she barely recognizes the moans that spill from between his kisses as her own.

When he drops his mouth back to her breasts her perceptions are slow to catch up, so overwhelming the degree of sublimation she has found. Each lick, each nibble, every bite is like heaven on every nerve in her body

"Brace your hands on my knees, gorgeous slut and open your thighs wide, wide, wide."

Somehow she does, arching backwards, presenting herself fully for Him and gasps as he slides the full, rampant length of his cock over the slit between her legs. Not inside her, just over, nudging her clit with each thrust, slapping her sex roughly with each stroke until her cries have become the soft harsh pant of blind oblivion. In her head all she can think of is please, please, oh please.

"I have waited so....fucking....long...to taste you." His words are a growl, his hands under her ass to lift her higher, under her hips to stabilize her, her legs twining around shoulders. 

"Wider...open wider for me, pet." It's almost a groan as she does, locking her ankles to the far sides of the chair, his breath playing over sensitive skin. 

He leans in and kisses her, his lips against the apex of her sex, his tongue darting beneath pleasure swollen lips to caress the hard, tight bud beneath. Her back arches and his grip tightens on her hips, fingers digging in cruelly with warning. She stills, panting, every muscle tense and shuddering.

"Good. Good. Girl." 

Each syllable is followed by a gentle nuzzle of her clit that turns into a slow rhythmic lapping. She clenches, riding the wave and then cries out wordlessly. He stops, breath panting against her intimate flesh, letting her regain some control and then drops lower, lapping at the entrance to her sex, with satisfied little murmurs, probing with his tongue until again, a rhythm is started. 

Without thought, her hips try to match it and she gasps as the first joint of one large, masculine thumb slips knuckle deep, into that smaller, tighter hole. The first flash of hot pain dulls the growing clamor within her briefly, before that too slips into a rhythm and she feels herself loosening, clenching around him in time to his cadence.

When she wonders if she can take anymore, when moans have become cries and her cries have become lower, animalistic grunts, he stops, altogether, resting her ass on His chest.

"The mechanics of a woman's orgasm fascinate me," the normal velvet and chocolate tones have given way to a harsher, smokier whiskey timbre as his fingers play lightly with her clit, slapping and flicking at random moments. "The process a woman goes through...sublimating herself to my wishes...mesmerizes me. And you, little pet, little wanton slut...absolutely bewitch me."

She feels tears, again, against her eyelashes and her moan of adoration brings his attention back to her face.

"You may speak, if you wish." Humor dances like an imp within that dark gaze.

"I ....I adore You, Michael...Master...and I...I NEED you, so badly." It's not a shy pledge but a most earnest plea and brings a smile to his handsome face.

"You need, little pet...absolutely. But there are other ways to fulfill that need. We're not quite there, yet. But...I would leave something of Me in you tonight, just a little something..." her gaze follows His fingers down as they circle his shaft, pulling upward, pinching the foreskin at the base of the head and pulling it back, stroking upward, pulling back. Her breath catches and then holds tight as his other hand slips between the cheeks of her ass, playing with that small, puckered hole. "Just...a little...bit"

She opens her mouth to plead with him and his index finger covers her lips briefly before falling to her nipples to tug and pinch, his face set in serious lines.

"I know how very close you are, Cyn...and I have made up my mind on what I want. Think of all the things that you've learned of me over these months...and then gauge your actions by those..." 

Leaning over the side of his chair, he pulls the footstool around front and beckons her to kneel, facing away from him.

"Now...slip backward little slut, so that your ass is in my lap and your ankles are over the arms of the chair....thighs wide, wide, wide for my touch. Do it!"

The command slipps inside her head like a familiar caress as she follows His instructions, her heart racing as his fingers find her clit and her rhythm almost instantly. He brings her up and then slows...then up yet higher and stops altogether, letting her pant out her stress and need before starting in again. Eight times...ten...she's lost count and reality long before then when he shifts his stance, nuzzling her shoulder and lifting her a little higher to settle her knees beneath her.

"This is very, very important, Cyn. I want your knees wide on either side of mine and I want you to lean forward." He slipps a hand between her thigh and belly as she did so, settling over her clit. "Now...are you listening?"

She whimpers, nodding emphatically, her body so tense, so eager it hurt.

"You may come when I tell you to come. Can you do that?" He slips two long fingers into her sex and she cries out her "Yes", leaving no doubt to her response. "Yessss, good girl, I believe you can. Afterward, little slut, I want you to hold very still, on your hands and knees. I want to feel each quiver from you, little tramp...every tremble. If...and it doesn't always happen...but if you feel yourself ...needing...more. I want you to say my name. Only, little slut, if you're ready to cum again. Do you understand?"

She nods, her sex dripping it's enthusiasm onto his thighs, her breasts swollen and tender with excitement as his fingers begin to play. He slides two fingers over her clit and brings her so quickly to the top that she gasps and then cries out when he quits. Again, his fingers start and as she approaches the top they slow, keeping her steady just before the leap.

"Yes...oh yes... you gorgeous... fucking ...slut." An animalistic growl comes from behind her and she feels him move, reposition himself slightly and then feels the tip, the full, bulbous, swollen head of him press against that tender, tiny hole and just shudders, her mind slipping somewhere it's never been, some primal level of pleasure so deep it's trancelike. His fingers resume and she feels the slow, burning bloom of heat in her belly expand, sending tremors of raw heat outward and upward, bringing the dull throb of her nipples and the swollen ache of her breasts into the crescendo. She sobs, moaning with pleasure.




Ninety Days Ch. 02



"Yes, that feels good baby girl, doesn't it," he croons, slowing the rhythm just a bit and then speeding it up. Her moans turn to grunts, and his voice grows strained and husky, "that's it little one, little pet...that's a good....fucking...girl."

"Now...cum for me!" 

Her body bucks beneath his hand, the cadence and the command surging through her and sending her screaming over the edge. Her pussy clenches with a slurp so audible she feels him tense behind her even as she throws her head back and succumbs with a feral scream. Each surge rushes from clit to the very heart of her sex, contracting muscles so tightly they hurt. His hand, pulled back from her clit, lies flat on her belly feeling the chaos and tumult within with a crooning chant of encouragement. Sensation goes hazy, her mind blank to everything but the sweeping climax tearing through her.

"Still for me...stay still for me," his words come to her from a million miles away. The surging tide in her body has turned, slowing, but only to turn and build once more, starting deep in her hungry sex and flowing outward. She feels Him behind her, feels the pressure of him against the hard ring of anal muscles and gasps helplessly as he slides himself against them, teasing their tightness, backing off, pressing harder to finally slip through with an ache of pain that takes her breath away and only heightens the building tide in her belly.

"Yes baby....I know....I know..."another croon that smokily sensual, "you're alright, just a little pain," His voice gentles hers, his hand stroking her belly, holding still against her to let her body adjust. His fingers drop to her clit and he chuckles at her sharp protest without stopping. "A little tender, little slut...but soooo receptive. Ahhh...there...there it is..." her initial resistance evaporates as the gentle caress brings an answering heat from her belly and sex, lapping at her mind, demanding more, surging higher as she tries desperately to hold still.

He feels it...the moment...the minute she slips back into the zone, her cries throatier and more primal that the first time. "Jesus, Cyn...fuck," he spanks her clit, voice tense as she inadvertently flinches backward, feeling him slide just a little deeper inside and moaning with it. Then she stills, letting the sensations slide over her and rise to their peak.

"Michael." It is breathless murmur full of wonder and sensual heat as she slips over one more time, the tidal pull of his sensuality and her wanton need to much to resist.

With a growl, she feels him push himself deeper, following the surges in her own body until he's fully within her, bodies pressed tightly together. She shudders with the feel of him, fully and rampantly hard deep inside. Her sex, so woefully ignored, clenches in response and she feels him tense, hears the deeply indrawn breath. She hasn't moved, beyond the natural pulse of her body, and his fingers lay dormant at the apex of her sex, but the feel of him and the sound and knowledge of His own excitement push her, once more, over edge, shuddering his name from between bitten lips.

"Fuck." There is a helplessness to that word and His tone that sends conflicting emotions through her...joy, adoration, lust and a surge of power that is...pure heroin. She feels Him jerk within her, feels the shiver down the length of him, His teeth landing squarely on her right ear, savaging it with his release. His hands land hard on her hips, pulling her to him rather than away for the thrust and she cries out her disappointment, wanting him to pull out and push back in savagely. 

"You...are....mine." Each word is forced out of His mouth, bitten, clipped, as His body shudders, releasing Himself within her. 

****

Shaking from her head the memories of the past, she grins self consciously, aware of the wetness drenching her thighs and the full taut tension in her breasts. She opens her eyes to the gorgeous glow of a Colorado winter morning, sun pouring through the window like a waterfall of coruscating brilliance, bringing a smile to her lips and a gently seeking hand for her partner.

Sighing, her hand finds an empty bed and she pulls herself up and out from beneath the heat of the sheets before she can have second thoughts. Pausing before the full length mirror in the bath, her hands trail over the marks of pleasure from the night before, bringing a soft, piquant whimper from her lips. A small, almost elegant circle of fierce nips and nibbles adorns the nape of her neck. Each breast eagerly displays a myriad of teeth and finger marks and even, along the full outer curve of her right breast, the small, brilliantly red slice of a knife. She shivers, vaguely remembering the moment, too far gone to beg him not too and Michael's swift strides and quietly voiced "No more" as He took the implement away from Sir Guy. Her fingers stroke the shallow mark, feeling no pain from it, before moving lower. Criss-cross rope marks adorn her wrists, belly, thighs and ankles where Domina had joined Sir Guy, showing him the artful knots of her shibari craft. Turning, slowly, her eyes take in the cascading welts of cane prints that decorate her shoulders, back, buttocks and thighs, the heat between them welling over at the memory of how each mark had been made.

He'd been right again. The ninety days had made her think...really think...about things. It also gave Him the chance to allow her to get to know Sir Guy. Her fingers touch the knife mark on her breast and shiver, realizing how very much she still doesn't know.

She doesn't regret her choice, she'd adored the evening and was looking forward to the rest of the weekend...after she'd finished her journal, of course.

After He'd taken her to bed last night, after making gentle love to her and kissing the marks and the tears away he'd made one last demand. That today, she would put to words the events of the evening and give it to Him.

It was a daunting task, so many emotions, so many new things. And toward the end, everything so hazy, it would be hard to get it right. But she understood, now, why. Getting the events down would help her sort the turmoil and emotional overload she felt this morning. Last night, in the warm circle of His arms, she'd bridled at His demand, wanting to go skiing with them instead. But this morning...this morning she would be glad to have the time to herself.

Pulling herself together, her eyes catch the slip of paper and the familiar bold curve of his writing, picking up the rich linen scrap and sighing. He always knew, she thought, tossing down the paper, its bold figures reading "Come down to breakfast and then you may start your journal." 



Ninety Days Ch. 03



I busied myself throughout the evening with mundane tasks, trying to keep my mind off of Mistress and her date. It was nearly impossible and I paced through the house with a semi-erection all night as I imagined her on her date. I wondered what he was like; what he smelled like and tasted like. I let my mind wander to his imaginary cock, hoping it was stout and well-curved. I tried to imagine what it would feel like in my mouth and ass, and what his cum tasted like. I pictured too him pleasuring Mistress while I was left to watch, caged and trembling, wishing that Mistress would allow me to please her too but knowing my place was to never have intercourse again. 

Around midnight Mistress called. "I should be on my way back there within the hour and I expect Amber to greet me," and then she hung up before I could say another word. I didn't know what to think. Was she bringing the boy with her? If not, why Amber? And how did she want Amber dressed?

I quickly set the phone down and immediately started getting ready. I was thankful my body was freshly shaved and my toenails newly painted. The first thing I did was make sure I was clean, for once not minding the slight hunger I felt brought on by my purposefully light appetite on days when Mistress may want to use me that way. But really, how did I know what she wanted? I had learned over the past four months that Mistress sometimes wanted the unexpected and it was one of the things I loved about her. 

I selected my attire carefully, something mixed between sexy and subservient. Because of the ever present cage, I opted for garters and stockings under my short black and red teddy and because of the hour, a waist cincher instead of a corset. I applied my make-up carefully, spending extra time and effort on my eyes, giving them something of a sexy, sultry look that invited exploitation. For my lips I chose something sparkly and sexy that begged for cock but could look good without it. Because really, all I wanted was Mistress to find me wanting. Lastly, I selected my black bob wig, deciding to skip the shoes and wait for her in bed. But before retiring I checked my look one last time and decided that I was as beautiful as I was going to get. 

I didn't have to wait long as I heard the door open somewhere around 12:45 am. My heart started pounding and I listened carefully for the number of footsteps and hearing only hers felt relieved and disappointed at the same time. She came directly into the bedroom looking slightly disheveled but wearing a happy grin. "Well hello," she said in a tone that almost suggested she hadn't expected to see Amber. I simply smiled at her. She went immediately to the toy closet and took the strap-on harness from its hook and then selected the second largest dildo. I watched all this somewhat incredulously as she seldom went straight at it like this. She also must have known I was extremely curious about how her evening went. She set the harness and dildo, as well as lube and two towels on the bed and then quickly undressed, still without saying a word.

She began pulling the harness up, tightening the straps on both sides and then affixing the long and thick black cock to the ring. She took a small bullet-type vibrator and wedged it between her clit and the harness where the pressure from thrusting would add to her pleasure. Without really looking at me she instructed, "Take off your panties and then get on your back." I did as I was told; wanting to ask her about her evening but sensing that now was not the time. I was trembling slightly as I assumed the position she required, hoping she would remove the cage but suspecting she wouldn't.

She took the lube and quickly greased my ass, then the dildo, and then with no other foreplay positioned her cock at my hole. She moved the large head of the cock in a circular motion and then pushed it inside me. I tensed and whimpered. She didn't seem to care and pushed in a little further. I was not opening up for her and the largeness of the cock felt like it was ripping me apart. She applied more lube and thrust in another inch or two. My ass began to loosen and she slid the remaining six inches in. I felt stretched and impaled although my body was becoming accustomed to the violation. Slowly she began thrusting, almost as if she was making love to me. I watched her, my body finding the rhythm that matched hers and the pleasure began to take hold. I moaned softly and wrapped my legs around waist.

With her eyes still closed she began speaking, her words sometimes interrupted by our mutual sighs of pleasure. "You'll need to get used to a big cock in your ass," she whispered as she continued rocking in and out of me. "Our boy has a lovely large cock. I stroked his cock in the car tonight before I came home. I could barely get my whole hand around it he was so hard and hot." She moaned a little louder and increased her pace. I met her thrusts and begged her in a whisper through clenched teeth to fuck me harder. My cock, stifled in the cage was tingling and the frustration and arousal caused my entire body to tremble. The feeling of her cock deep in my ass and the pressure it placed on my swollen prostate combined to make me feel like I would orgasm and I hoped that I would. She continued, "The expression on his face when he came was beautiful and the thick ropes of come he shot all over made me think of you. Aren't you glad that someone gets to come?" I moaned and in a pleading voice, "Yes, Mistress, yes. I am glad he came. He should cum often and you should too." She cut me off. "Oh, we will." 

She started fucking me harder, more violently, her teeth gritted and her face contorted in concentration. "We will cum often, with each other, using you, however we want," she hissed, thrusting into me and moaning, breathing deeply. With her large cock deep inside me with each downward push I felt like I would be ripped apart but I didn't care. I returned her thrusts, grinding up into her with animalistic intensity, feeling closer to cumming and willing to do anything to make it happen. My pleading began anew, "Yes, Mistress, fuck me. Please fuck me. Fuck me harder and use me. I just want to be your bitch. Please, Mistress..." My words trailed off and the miraculous tremors of an orgasm denied these past four months began building inside. I knew it wouldn't take much more and I would finally have the release I was so madly craving.

Mistress was lost in her own place, thrusting and moaning, perhaps not even knowing who she was fucking. "Oh God!" she screamed and her body began shaking violently as she pressed into me and ground her cock as far as it would go but otherwise holding still as her orgasm swept through her body. I was almost there too and needed her to keep the thrusting motion going so I began moving my hips back and forth, hoping to bring the orgasm teetering on the edge inside me. Mistress whispered for me to hold still and despite her words I continued rocking slowly, trying to cum. She looked at me through squinted eyes and reached out, wrapping both of her hands around my throat, closing the air passage. My eyes widened and I watched her intently. "I said hold still," she repeated through labored breath as she met my gaze. She loosened her grip on my throat slightly and I gasped for air before she tightened the grip again. She thrust into me three more times, sending a spasm through my caged cock and then withdrew from me while releasing her hands from around my neck.

I bucked and moaned, begging her to let me cum, my head spinning and my entire body trembling. "No," she said, "there have been enough orgasms tonight. It's time for sleep."



Ninety Days Ch. 04



Despite my extreme frustration, I slept soundly through the night. When I woke in the morning, Mistress was already gone. She had left a note for me on the dining room table instructing me to make the house spotless, devise a dinner menu for two and to call her at 5:00 pm to touch base. I had received notes like this from Mistress before and they usually foreshadowed an amazing evening of play. My heart leapt as I was certain that tonight would be the evening she let me orgasm.

I busied myself with the cleaning first and then took a cookbook down from the shelf and began creating our menu. Because I didn't know what Mistress had in mind for the night I made sure to craft a menu that would be easy on my system though still delicious. Next, I created a shopping list and quickly left the house. Mistress called me on my cell phone while I was on my way to the store, asking me to buy flowers and making sure we had red tapers in the house. I affirmed both requests and my excitement grew. She knew I enjoyed romantic evenings and I began selecting the music for the night in my head, wanting everything about it to be perfect.

Shopping went quickly and easily and once back home again I began the preparations for the evening. I set the table for two, placing the flowers to the side of where we'd be sitting so we could enjoy them. I did the prep work for dinner and selected the music taking care to place them in the order that would meld best with what I imagined would be our night. As the time grew closer to 5:00 pm I could barely contain my excitement, feeling certain that Mistress had planned a very special night for the two of us to celebrate my first orgasm in four months. 

At 5:00 pm I called her. "You're prompt," she said and I could hear the smile in her voice. I thanked her and she continued. "Tonight I want Amber to serve dinner, but she needs to be dressed appropriately and I'll leave that up to you to decide. I should be home around 7:00 pm and I'd like dinner ready around 8:00 pm." I made mental calculations in my head on timing and knew I had to start getting ready soon. I told her I understood and that I was really looking forward to the evening. She said, "I am too. Be sure to wear something sexy," and then she said goodbye and hung up. 

I took my time getting dressed and doing my makeup, struggled with which shoes to wear and which wig, but in the end believed I looked especially hot. I needed Mistress's help with my corset and I hoped she'd indulge me by lacing it tight for me when she got home. Leaving that as the final thing to complete my attire for the evening, I started making dinner, happy and excited that tonight was nearly here. 

Mistress arrived a little before 7:00 pm carrying with her a shopping bag. I smiled widely when I saw her and asked what was in the bag. "Oh, just some sexy new lingerie I thought might be nice for this evening," she said, adding, "I hope you don't mind that I put this on your credit card." My cock immediately stiffened in the cage. She smiled at me, said the table looked beautiful and dinner smelled delightful and then wandered into the bedroom. I continued making our dinner, happy that she was pleased with things thus far and thinking that Mistress must want tonight to be very special for me since she knew I loved lingerie so much. I reflected on the fact that in our four months together, she had never purchased new lingerie for an evening and I was excited to feel it against her body later that night. 

A few minutes later she called to me, asking me to come into the bedroom. She was wearing her new things and I simply stood there, stunned by how sexy and gorgeous she looked. She had put on makeup too, accenting her eyes and lips in a sexy manner that also caught my eye because she rarely wore makeup. "Mistress," I stammered, "you look so incredibly beautiful." She smiled, almost blushing, told me that I looked nice too and asked to my surprise, "Would you like to be let out of the cage now?" My erection was immediate and the torrential thoughts flowing through my mind in that moment could barely be contained. I nodded my head vigorously. She laughed and motioned with her finger for me to come near. 

I pulled down my panties and exposed the cage. She snipped the plastic lock attached to my frenum and then removed her keys from her purse and unlocked the metal lock. She instructed me to remove the cage and wash up but not to play with myself as I did so. When I returned to the bedroom I was erect from the combination of my freedom, how sexy I felt and my excitement for the night. Mistress was slipping into a short, sexy black dress and had me zip her up. Then she reached for the corset and told me it was time to put this on. I put it around me, fastened the front and then braced myself as Mistress began lacing up the back. She cinched it impossibly tight, sculpting my shape into an hourglass that flattened my tummy, accented my hips and pushed my "breasts" higher and together. As she tied the laces in the back I commented that this perhaps the tightest she'd ever cinched me and I wasn't sure how I'd sit down let alone eat anything. She let out a small laugh and said, "Oh, I'm sure somehow everything will work out."

She glanced at her watch, noted that it was almost 8:00 pm and inquired about dinner. I told her it would be ready in about fifteen minutes and she dismissed me to continuing cooking, instructing me to apply another coat of lipstick so my mouth glistened in the candlelight. As I was in the bathroom carefully painting a thick coat of the sexy red varnish on, the doorbell rang. Mistress called from the other room that she would get it and I finished my application.

When I stepped out of the bathroom and looked down the hall, Mistress was at the door in a passionate embrace with a man I'd never seen before, their mouths pressed together and lips locked in desire. I started trembling and my heart was beating faster than it ever had before. Thoughts collided in my head as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. Although my stomach was in knots, there was no denying my arousal and the pulsating rush of blood to my stiff cock. I stood there watching as the man's hands wandered across Mistress's body, from her ass to her breasts and all points in between. When they finally broke away from one another, they were both smiling widely and held hands as they entered the house proper. I ducked to the side, hoping I hadn't been seen.

"Amber?" Mistress called from the living room. I froze, shaking, wondering how I was going to make it through this. I wasn't ready to meet 'our boy' and I certainly hadn't expected to meet him like this. I calmed myself and took a deep breath, trying to take comfort that he must only be stopping in for a drink and then our night would continue. Surely Mistress wouldn't have handled it this way. I swallowed hard and walked into the living room where they were seated on the sofa next to each other. Mistress spoke. "Amber, bring us two glasses of wine and then you may continue making dinner." Her look told me I was dismissed and I thanked her, bowing my head and smiling softly as I retired to the kitchen.

My hands were shaking as I fumbled with the corkscrew. I poured two glasses of Viognier that I thought would go especially well with the dinner I had prepared. I poured myself a glass as well, downing half of it in a single gulp. 

When I returned to the living room, Mistress and the man were kissing again, her hand resting on his crotch while his was wandering up inside her skirt and it appeared he had found what he was looking. My erection raged in my sexy black panties as I sat the wine glasses down on the table beside them. They never looked up nor stopped their private attentions so I slipped back out of the room to the kitchen to finish making dinner. I was at a loss, not knowing if I should serve dinner, grab my wine and sit with them or wait until I had received instructions. I opted to wait for instructions and thankfully didn't have to wait long.

Mistress called from the other room. "Amber, we're ready for dinner when you are." I wasn't sure if that meant I needed to set another place or if it meant that I would be serving them dinner. I again decided to wait for instructions and brought dinner out on serving dishes. I carefully served each dish and as I was spooning the risotto onto Mistress's plate she said, "Please fill our wine glasses again and then you may kneel here beside me." I now understood my place. 

After filling their glasses, I knelt beside Mistress and she softly squeezed my shoulder, an act I took to be pleasure with my manner this evening. As they chatted through dinner, throwing an occasional compliment my way for the deliciousness of the meal, my erection never abated. I was impossibly aroused and wanted to touch myself so badly. I heard the man ask for more wine and Mistress tapped my shoulder. I took it to be a signal that I was to serve him too, so I rose and went to the kitchen for the bottle, pausing on the way to finish the glass I had poured earlier. I returned, refilled the man's glass and set the bottle on the table before returning to my kneeling position beside Mistress. 

Mistress had taken her shoes off while I was away and had extended her leg and was now rubbing the man's cock with her foot under the table. I could see from the massive bulge in his jeans that he was aroused and it caused a pang of desire to shoot through me, making my cock twitch. They had finished their meal and were simply chatting and I would have thought they had forgotten about me altogether except that Mistress's hand continued to stroke my shoulder softly and absentmindedly. 

They rose from the table, taking their wine glasses with them, he heading to the couch while Mistress excused herself to use the bathroom. I wasn't sure what I should do so I remained kneeling, waiting for instructions. As the man passed by me brushed up against me and I glanced up at him. He smiled kindly, which made me more comfortable, and I returned his smile bashfully. Mistress came out of the bathroom carrying her wine glass and handed it to me, saying "You must be thirsty." Taking the glass from her I immediately felt that it was warm and knew it wasn't wine in the glass. "Drink up," she said with a smile on her face and I greedily swallowed down the glass of pee she had given me, savoring her taste and thanking her when I was done. "Once you are done clearing the dishes you can put some music on, then get the bondage chair out and position it in the middle of the parlor. I'll also want cuffs, rope, my stinger, a large dildo, lube and towels, ok?" she asked. I offered immediate compliance, thanking her as I rose to do her bidding.

I worked quickly and efficiently, starting with music and then set about clearing the dishes. Once the kitchen was in order I got the other things together and took them into the parlor. Mistress and the man -- 'our boy' I reminded myself -- were petting each other and talking, she smiling widely and clearly charmed. As I organized the toys I thought it was odd that Mistress hadn't introduced us yet but I took that to be merely a function of my service for the evening. Finishing up organizing things, I knelt beside the chair and waited for their attention. 

Mistress came over to me, leaving our boy alone on the couch and instructed me to take my normal position bent over the chair. She secured my ankles and then my wrists to either side of the chair. She warmed my ass with a few preliminary hand spankings, making it nice and red. Our boy came into the room then and sat in the chair -- the one usually reserved for Mistress I noted in my mind -- and once he was comfortable he unbuckled his belt, unfastened his pants and pulled them down to his ankles. His cock sprang to immediate attention and I looked at it with longing. Mistress was right, he had a huge cock and it was beautiful. He began stroking it slowly while watching me. Subconsciously I licked my lips and he smiled.

The zing of the stinger through the air brought me back as the first throw struck my ass. I fought hard not to scream but as the second one hit I recoiled in pain. Our boy began stroking his cock a little faster, clearly enjoying the show. Mistress continued with perhaps a dozen more throws and my ass was on fire but my erection announcing my pleasure. As if signaled by Mistress, the boy stood up and placed his mammoth cock inches from my face. "Suck my balls," he said and I was shocked that he would give me a command. I hesitated and Mistress must have sensed my confusion as she leaned forward and whispered to me, "Suck his balls, Marc, its ok." I did as I was told, straining forward to find the orbs floating in his sack. His scrotum was shaved and soft and his skin felt warm and good in my mouth.

As I continued working his balls, desperate to get his cock in my mouth I felt Mistress's hand on my ass and then the cool wetness of lube greasing my crack. She worked a latex gloved finger inside me, added more lube and then used two fingers, fucking me slowly. The feeling was amazing and I moaned lowly while sucking our boy's other testicle into my mouth. Mistress left the room but came back a few seconds later. She must have retrieved the strap-on harness because the familiar feeling of penetration was the next sensation I felt. She eased into my ass, moving slowly and erotically, and unlike the prior night, I opened up for her immediately. Once fully inside, Mistress began a slow rocking and I moaned aloud, letting our boy's balls slip from my mouth. He laughed and then used his hand to tilt his cock downward, placing the engorged head of his beautiful prick an inch from my mouth. Mistress continued fucking me, slowly and rhythmically and once again the familiar stirrings of an orgasm began deep within me. "Suck my cock," he said. I needed no further encouragement and took him in my mouth. His cock was hot and silky smooth and I stretched my jaw wide to take all of him in. He began fucking my face in an alternate rhythm to Mistress's cock in my ass. As he would push in, Mistress was pulling out and I felt like they had one cock running into my mouth and out my ass. 

Mistress began pumping me harder and her moans of pleasure grew louder as she tightened her grip on both sides of my waist. Our boy must have been encouraged by this because he inched closer, placing his right hand on the back of my head and forced more of his cock down my throat. I was nearly gagging because he was so large and wondered to myself if I'd ever get used to his massive tool. Mistress began panting more loudly and her nails dug into my flesh as I focused on not biting the gorgeous cock shoved in me. 

It seemed all at once we were going to cum when Mistress first moaned and bucked, grinding into me in a familiar way I knew was her cumming. Then his cock began twitching and the urgency of his thrusts became greater as he slammed his torso into my face. His body tensed and he let out a low, guttural moan, saying "oh fuck" as the first blast of his seed filled my mouth. He shot three or four thick loads of cum into my mouth before pulling out and finishing himself off with his hand, shooting the final two streams on my face. I swallowed what he had given me and my tongue searched my lips for more. Nearly simultaneously, Mistress collapsed on my back, panting in exhausted contentment. My cock was twitching, the arousal tingling like I was covered with crawling insects. I was desperate for release and couldn't believe that once again I'd been fucked to the point of cumming only to have it end before I could explode. 

Despite how wonderfully well Mistress had fucked my ass and despite the complete turn-on of sucking our boy's cock and swallowing his cum, I couldn't orgasm before each of them had had their pleasure. Still, I twitched and whined, fucking the air, but it was no use. After Mistress regained her breath she lifted herself from me and slowly slid the dildo out of my ass. Our boy had by now returned to the chair and sat there quietly with a contented smile on his face. Mistress removed the strap-on harness, letting it drop to the floor, and slowly untied me. She whispered that I could use the restroom, touch up my makeup and get a drink, then return to her. She added that she didn't want me touching myself while I was out of her sight. 

I followed her instructions, first checking myself in the mirror and seeing our boy's cum on my cheek, starting to dry. I wiped it off carefully with my finger, savoring its taste once again and then made sure my makeup was in order. I applied a fresh coat of lipstick and told myself in the mirror that I was such a whore. I laughed and then got a glass of wine before returning to the parlor. 

Mistress was sitting in our boy's lap, coaxing his cock back to fullness with her hand while they kissed. I knelt on the floor beside them and waited for further instructions, wanting to touch myself but not sure if I should. Without even looking at me, Mistress told me to masturbate but not to cum yet. I immediately took my cock in my hand and began slowly stroking it, knowing that if I went to fast I would cum within seconds. 

Mistress and our boy continued their private interlude, seemingly oblivious to my presence. He had slipped his fingers inside her and she was responding with low whimpers, clearly enjoying his attentions. Her head tilted back slightly, away from him, and she moaned with pleasure, a quiet "yes, please" escaping her lips as he fingered her with greater pressure.

I watched with a mixture of extreme arousal and envy, wishing I could be pleasing her but knowing her desire for the evening was being fulfilled by another man. My cock grew harder and the tingling sensation increased. I was so very close to exploding and I wasn't sure I could hold it back when it came. I moaned, "Oh, god" and Mistress responded sharply, "You may not cum yet" and so I released my cock and sat there trembling, wondering how I was going to survive.

The man removed his fingers from Mistress's pussy and held it out to me. I quickly leaned forward and sucked her juices from his fingers, wishing that my mouth was upon her sex and my tongue buried deep inside her. Once his fingers were clean he took them back and then with both hands guided Mistress on to his hard cock. She moaned with pleasure as his cock slid into her and I quickly took my erection in hand and began stroking it. Once again I longed to be inside her but Mistress had made it clear a month ago that I would never have intercourse again and this moment confirmed my place as her chaste cuckold. 

For the next fifteen minutes, Mistress swooned with pleasure as his cock slid in and out of her. Her hands were resting upon his shoulders as she bounced up and down on his swollen penis, enrapt with desire. They were both now panting in urgency and Mistress was nearly giggling as she rode his cock, their bodies entangled in a sweaty, sexy, intertwined position that made it obvious they had fucked many times before. I thought about this as I continued slowly stroking my cock, suspecting that Mistress may have been fucking him for quite some time and my arousal grew. 

As they continued fucking, Mistress turned her head and looked at me. "You wish you could fuck me, don't you" she said with a smile somewhere between sadistic and exact pleasure, "but you know you never will. Your cock will never be inside of anyone again." I moaned and looked at her with pleading eyes. She took deep breaths, riding our boy and clearly enjoying herself. "Your cock is useless to me, but stroke it now while you can because soon that won't happen anymore." She panted, whispering to the boy to fuck her harder and he responded with moans of his own as his body tensed and flexed. 




Ninety Days Ch. 04



Simultaneously, they both moaned and together they trembled, her orgasm evident in the violent shaking of her body while his was shown by the expression on his face. I watched intently from the floor, my cock in hand and just several strokes from cumming. "Please Mistress, please may I cum now?" I asked. "No," she said as she caught her breath, "not yet. I want to watch and you'll have to earn it." 

I whimpered, loosening my grip on my cock and with my free hand wiping the pre-cum from the tip and licking it from my fingers. Mistress and the boy stayed together for only another minute or two and then she reluctantly let him slip from her. I watched her, hoping she would let me lick his cum from her pussy but instead she left the room, returning a minute later with plate from the kitchen.

"Position your self over the plate," she said. I looked at her with an odd expression suggesting I didn't understand. She sensed my confusion. "You haven't had dinner yet and so I want you to cum on this plate and then lick it up because you need your protein." She smiled at me mockingly and our boy chuckled in his chair. But I did as I was told and positioned myself accordingly so that when I came it would all end up on the plate. "Now you may make yourself cum, Amber, but listen to me while you do." I began masturbating again, knowing I was less than a minute away from cumming. I glanced up at Mistress, awaiting her words. 

"Now, I'm letting you orgasm from masturbation even though our rule is that you will only cum from being fucked in the ass. I think we may have to work up to that if it's even possible. But this will be the last time you'll orgasm this way for a very, very long time. Do you understand?" she finished. I nodded my head, inching closer to cumming. She moved closer to me, placing her mouth against my ear and whispering, "My pleasure comes from making you suffer; from denying you pleasures of the flesh. One day you will come to realize what that truly means but for now enjoy the ability to stroke yourself; enjoy the privilege I give you to orgasm." I moaned, thanking her profusely for giving me the privilege to cum and for keeping and owning my cock and balls. I thanked her for denying me pleasure and for making me suffer because I loved her and would do anything to please her.

She kissed me softly on the cheek and said, "Cum for me now," and I exploded, shooting incredibly large and thick bursts of cum all over the blue glass plate. Wave after wave of cum flowed from me and although the release was amazing, there was a slight burning sensation as my body remembered what the pulsating feeling felt like. I trembled, my eyes closed and my body wouldn't respond to the commands I was giving it to calm down. Once my shaking subsided, Mistress spoke. "Lick it up, Amber, all of it." I looked at her with pleading eyes that begged her not to make me do it. She returned my gaze. "I said lick it up." With a faint whimper, I bent forward and began licking my cum from the plate. "Suck it in. Get all of it," she said and I did my best until finally the plate was clean except for smudges caused by my bright red lip enamel. 

Mistress touched my cheek. "Good girl. Now go get your cage, it's time to lock you up again." I looked at Mistress, my eyes wide in disbelief. "Is there a problem, Amber?" she asked. I swallowed deeply, the taste of my cum still in fresh in my mouth. "Well, Mistress, perhaps we haven't discussed this before but the first orgasm after prolonged chastity does nothing to relieve the frustration. In fact it makes it worse and so I was hoping that maybe I could cum once more before being locked up again." 

Mistress's face lit up. "So if I lock you up again now without letting you cum again, the frustration will continue?" I nodded my head, adding a "yes Mistress" just to be sure. "Wonderful," she said, "then you should absolutely be locked up again. And tomorrow we'll have a lengthy discussion about other aspects of chastity you've failed to mention." I bowed my head defeated, a mixture of thankfulness and disbelief running through my brain as I rose to retrieve the chastity device. 

When I returned with it, Mistress watched as I put it on and then she clicked the metal lock followed by the plastic lock through the frenum. She was beaming as she announced, "You may sleep in here tonight and we're going to sleep in your bed. Wake us with breakfast by 9:00 am" and with that she took our boy's hand and together they retired to my bedroom.



Ninety Days without My Master



I. 90 Days Without My Master

Nearly a year and one half into my journey, a line was drawn, without warning. It has been more than 90 days since I entertained my One at private levels. A severing of joint things enjoyed, and needed. I have seen Him, publicly, spoken professionally and casually, yes. Almost daily. And, for that, I am ever grateful. But, with those surface interactions comes the piercing realization that I am, lately, quite incomplete.

There were cautions given, in the beginning. Promised tests, to which I readily agreed. Boundaries and expectations were explained, early on, though I toe-tested now and then, as we grew more casually attuned to one another. My right to warm his side, or tickle His fancy, if called, is more understood, today, than ever before. 

Oh, how I pleaded to become His slave! After only a few encounters. How He tried, then, to dissuade me! He said that I'd no clue how deep the rabbit hole goes. My eager persistence allowed that He kindly enjoyed, trusted and agreed to accept me, instead. I eventually became His Own, with His giving of a private Celtic name. I was then, and still am, so very honored. 

We pushed the envelopes of pleasure and desire, countless times, during that year and a half. Lovely, naughty things one only reads about were becoming my every need. A settled sort of regularity became most comfortable. Even housekeeping or doing His laundry became my hopeful rewards. I dare say there is little finer than watching Him enjoy grilled cheese and salami sandwiches, with spicy sausage soup, on cold, rainy nights, save for His voice, whispering so evenly in my ear, telling me to "scream it" once dinner was done. 

After a time, even His whispers were no longer needed to prompt His due expectations, though I will always enjoy and respond to His voice. His casual, steady gaze communicated more than I think he initially intended, and I felt his thoughts, often before He could speak them. I began to read Him, like a book, particularly when he nestled against my backside, afterward, and spoke unguarded, in every way. Perhaps that is what changed things. He possibly enjoyed "growing me" more so than the evidence of my endless perceptions to inhale and respond to whatever He may bid. He became my air, and breathing is involuntary. Does that, in itself, somehow imbalance the scale regarding Dominance and submission? 

Then...bang. It happened, like a shot to the heart. His personal mysteries unfolded, all about me, with a sudden and unexpected distancing of the things we had shared. His sudden silence nearly choked the very life from me. Though He knew I would fend His every challenge, he worked me, 90 days, to earn very few alliances. Still, I am so very thankful. I continue to caress every pointed facet that is Him. 

I oft stood, motionless, momentarily seeing Him in my day to day routine. Day in and day out! 90 days is such a long time! I comforted myself by hoping, "Maybe He will speak, this time, and say that there has been some terrible misunderstanding." I watched as my One's countenance transformed from slight acknowledgement, to expressionless, and then to a darkness I could not define. The Voice that I strained to hear spoke very few words, if any at all. Sometimes, for days at a time. I held my breath as he strode past me, publicly, as though I were beige wallpaper. Could He not see my chest rising and falling as I sucked devotion versus pride, deeper, and deeper, inside? Oh, so very much like stone, my Master! I swallowed my silent pleadings, each time He pretended not to see me. The calendar on my wall bore the timestamp of The Last Visit in August. I hadn't the heart to turn the page; hoped childishly, that He would soon send for me, and that time had kindly stood still. 

It is His Mastery that has always caused my blood to rush, and lent unequalled iridescence to my aura. I still manifest inside Him, with tiny, randomly unannounced, pearly irritations. That is the only thing that I am allowed to do, by design, without permission. His defiant shell clamps tightly, and I am delightfully trapped, inside. He feels and houses me. I continue to breathe, and grow, inside Him. 

From time to time, I lately dream the same wild dream. It wakes me with its hidden message. Master and I, climbing an endless, spiral staircase. The closest of friends, exploring every turn. I see myself stumble, and look upward to capture one last glimpse of His magnificent shadow as He ascends, unshaken. He leaves me, fallen, upon the stairs. He looks back, only once. He somberly says, "You're a big girl, now..." 

I am still evaluating the dream. Yet, I have reached the next landing, all by myself these 90 days later. The best part of getting back up, and continuing to climb, is respecting that He is "up there," exquisitely smug. In my dream, He extends a much needed, and familiar, strong and congratulatory hand. I have learned that He will not carry me when I fall due to careless regard of the things He intended for me, yet He has certain, expected and vested interests in my achievements

After all, it was in the beginning when He kindly queried and said, "Are you sure? I have so much to put you through!" And, it was Day One when I was certain He would never invest His time, or care, in things that are destined to fail. That, in itself, is aplenty. 

II. Michito's 90 Days

There is much to be learned from a fish. Michito, my lovely Koi, was purchased when he measured less than one inch, soaking wet. I fully expected to derive great pleasure in watching him grow, yet at that time, did not correlate the natural to my supposed, unlike-any-other, private and personal growths. Michito grew, and performed, tireless, aquabatic ballets for my singular pleasure. I watched, enchanted for a time, yet as he grew stronger and larger, only casually stuck my finger into his tank, just to make sure that he realized the hand of his owner. Michito never faltered, even when I ignored him, for days. Other than feeding him, I gave him few of the earned attentions to which he'd grown accustomed. Even now, if I but tap the glass, he rises to greet me, yet has recently begun to look at me with unblinking fish eyes as if to say, "Yes, I am still here, where you left me. Shall I entertain you or are you only here to turn out the light?"

It is probably not by coincidence that 90 Days Without My Master played into my treatment of Michito. It is with new appreciation that I respect Michito for continuing to perform his fish routine, regardless of my presence. When I looked 'round, he'd grown to a fat and shimmering seven and one half inches. The marbled colors he wears are so very vibrant. All who see him say, "That is quite a fish!" He still smiles, with bubbles of delight, if I but take the time to notice. I would hazard, here, that this is merely his genuine need to be the most pleasing fish he can be.

Though my Master's 90 Day hiatus has thankfully ended, and He has returned as my best friend and lover, I recognize my gross, unfair exchange with Michito. I will no longer withhold appreciation for all that he could become. The fine line 'twixt Animal Behavior vice Human Reasoning sounds the drum. Though I would enjoy keeping Michito forever, I will, instead, reward him, through freedom. I will release him to a large, indoor pond in a place that is special to me. Because Michito cannot speak, I must choose for him. I think it best to allow others to become enthralled with his unique ballets as he continues to grow, unhampered by his small, familiar tank. I will visit him often. It is a given that he will continue to rise to my hand for a long time to come.

We share a vein, Michito and I. It is quiet strength, and resilience above the odds, that proves submission at its sweetest core. That said, I remain, quite content, with my shield to the world, and my desires in my pocket. I shall never want, nor ask, for freedom. I shall only ask to be kept! We have never needed a Safe Word, My One and I. He has always known what my emotions and body can withstand. May He please continue to exercise His every Right. 

Adoration for your lessons, Master S! 

Always, Your Brigid -- 11-24-07



Ninety Days



I am in a daze and I can only assume she is too. I hold very still, somehow fighting off the urge to thrust and buck while wishing she would wrap her hand tightly around my cock again. Her fist in my ass, kept motionless for the past few minutes while she basks in her second orgasm of the evening, slowly inches its way out. It's a bitter sweet release of tension, an odd combination of released pressure and empty longing. 

I hear her move into the bathroom, remove the latex glove and turn on the faucet. She seems to be taking her time which gives me a moment to collect myself as well. Upon her return, she runs a warm washcloth down my ass, wiping away any mess and excess lube and then comes and sits next to me on the bed.

She speaks with her mouth pressed against my leather hood, "I'm going to untie you now and give you a few minutes to relax, but I'm going to leave the hood on you. After you've collected yourself, we're going to have a rather one sided conversation, do you understand?" I nod my head that I do.

She works quickly and efficiently undoing the bondage, starting with my ankles, then the spreader bar and finally my wrists. She keeps the cuffs on me, presumably because there is more to come. "Lie down on your back and relax," she says barely above a whisper and I obey without needing any prodding. The release from bondage is a welcome respite and my body, exhausted but still tense with frustration, eases down on to the bed. I feel her stretch out next to me, her warm, soft skin nuzzling against me. Her hand caresses the leather of my hood at my cheek and moves down, across my collar where she stops to finger the ring, and then continues to my chest. She is sweet and gentle and her hand gliding across my flesh is soothing. She simply traces little circles, from my shoulders, across my chest and over my nipples, down to my stomach and then to the soft space between my bellybutton and cock. Each time her hand comes to my pubis I shutter, hoping she'll reach farther down and stroke my cock desperate for attention. 

As she continues, the arousal becomes too much and I begin bucking, thrusting up encouraging her to touch me. She thankfully understands my desire and takes my cock in her hand, but cautions, "I'll touch you while I talk to you but you will not cum unless I tell you to, is that understood?" I nod my head in compliance. "Good," she says, adding, "and you will not attempt to fuck my hand, either. You will hold very still and listen to what I have to say. You may respond by either nodding your head in agreement or shaking your head in disagreement. If you move any other part of your body, you will be punished. Is this understood?" I let out a slight whine hoping she understands how difficult this is for me and then I nod my head.

She holds my cock lightly, stroking it at a slow, gingerly pace, needing no lube as it glistens with pre-cum. She begins speaking while keeping her hand gliding up and down my shaft. "I rather like this hood on you. It keeps you quiet and leaves just your body exposed as an object for my enjoyment." I stay completely still, listening intently while focusing on restraint. She continues, her hand never leaving my twitching, swollen, tingling cock, "I have also liked keeping you locked in chastity for the past three months. It does you good and I know you need it." I nod my head while moaning almost inaudibly. She laughs. "You do realize cocks are pretty useless to a woman like me? Sure, they're fun to play with occasionally or torture or abuse, but that is really about it and even then it's about the reaction, not the actual body part." She continues stroking me as I'm inching ever closer to the point of no return. 

Uncontrollably, my hand moves from my side toward my crotch. Immediately she stops touching me and although I try to move my hand back to its place on the bed, it's too late and she's seen my movement. "Well, well," she says, "look who can't follow instructions," and with that she rises from the bed, returning a moment later. "Bring your hands to your neck," she instructs and quickly fastens the wrist cuffs to the ring on my collar, forcing my arms into a bent, uncomfortable position. She then moves down to the foot of the bed, spread my legs apart and fastens my ankles to opposite bed posts. "That should keep you from moving," she adds with satisfaction. 

I hear her moving toward the closet again and removing something from a shelf and something from a hang. She places the items on the bed and then takes my balls in her hands. "You must also realize by now that I find testicles rather useless, too. I've always thought that if I kept a male slave I'd have him castrated," she adds with a laugh that elicits a pleading moan from me. I feel what I know to be the ball stretching parachute being wrapped around my scrotum and snapped snuggly into place. The chain on the parachute is pulled tightly, stretching my scrotum to the point of pain before she uses rope to fasten it to the bed frame. I want to inch downward to relieve the pressure but dare not budge.

My cock stands at rigid attention and she takes it between two fingers while attaching a clothespin on the underside at the base. The pain is immediate and intense, eliciting a high pitched moan from deep within me. She adds a second clothespin and then four more, creating a line up the length of my cock. I tremble in pain, nearly in tears when at last she adds three more in a half circle across the head of my cock. I shake and whimper, mumbling through my gag that I can't take anymore. If she hears me or understands me, she doesn't respond. 

The first slap upon my inner thigh comes as a complete surprise and my sudden jerking motion causes the parachute to pull tighter. She follows with nine more measured hits, all to the right thigh. I hear her move to the other side of the bed and as expected she begins on my left thigh, this time not stopping at ten but continuing to twenty. She returns again to the left, slapping my inner thigh especially hard ten more times. 

With what feels like a crop, she begins slowly and lightly tapping my cock, sending bolts of pain through my body and causing me to cry and moan in my darkened world. The crop next finds my inner thigh, fifteen ferocious stripes on each side, covering her hand prints with lines. The crop hits the bed and then her fingers find my right nipple. She pinches it tightly and then adds a clothespin to it, repeating this with my left nipple. 

Once again she caresses my leather clad cheek as she attempts to comfort me through the intense suffering she is clearly taking pleasure inflicting. Next she unsnaps the leather mouthpiece of the hood to expose the ring on the hardness gag. She unsnaps the strap that holds the ring in place and I know she is inserting a dildo, preparing to use me as her fuck toy. Once the dildo is secured and she climbs on top of me, she wedges her legs beneath my arms for leverage and lowers herself on to the dildo. 

It takes her a moment to get comfortable and find her rhythm, but once she does she begins moving fluidly up and down on the cock held firmly in my mouth by the harness gag. I struggle at first to meet her movements but then we begin rocking together in a single, synchronized motion with me pushing my face forward to meet her downward motion. We continue in this rhythm for a while, she never seeming to tire. As her pace quickens, so does mine, and she begins removing the clothespins, starting with my nipples. I scream loudly through the gag as each comes off and my suffering only seems to increase the intensity with which she fucks my face. As she removes the clothespins from the abused head of my engorged cock, my entire body screams and writhes as if trying to escape the pain. She fucks my face harder and I can tell by the increasing level and frequency of her moans that she is about to cum again. Giving me no warning and no rest from the pounding on my face, she removes the six clothespins from my shaft in swift order, tossing them aside and the places her hands against my chest for added leverage. I scream with pain through the hood and gag as she violently cums, twisting and pumping and squeezing my head between her legs as she rides the dildo to completion. She trembles above me and I below her, both catching our breath before she climbs off me. 

Once she has regained her composure she begins releasing me from bondage, starting with my balls, then my hands and feet. She detaches the dildo from the harness, unlocks the lock on my hood and then unlaces the leather ties before pulling the hood off me. She removes the gag causing drool to seep down my chin and finally reaches for the blindfold, removing it and restoring my vision. And then she collapses on the bed, her breathing steady and tired.

I remain in the position she has left me in while my eyesight returns and my own breathing finds its steadiness. Without looking up at me she simply purrs, "You may relax, get a glass of wine, use the restroom, whatever, and then return here to me." I thank her and rise from the bed. My knees are weak and my steps unsteady as I go for a sip of wine and use the restroom. The tingling in my cock, which had subsided during the clothespin play, begins anew and although I desperately want to touch myself and suspect she won't know, I can't bring myself to disobey her. I run the faucet and splash cold water over my face, attempting to rinse away the black stains upon my skin caused from the last two hours in the leather hood. Neither they nor the creases in my skin from the gag can be washed away without more effort than my exhausted body can muster at the moment and so I return to the bedroom and lay down beside her.

She props herself up on one elbow and smiles at me; that same smile I had seen in the restaurant three months ago and the one I truly want to see as often as I can. She reaches out and takes my semi-erect cock in her hand and plays with it softly, causing it to grow to fullness. Pre-cum leaks out onto her fingers and she brings them to my mouth for cleaning before returning her hand to my erection. "So," she begins, "our three months is up and I suspect you want your reward, don't you?" I smile at her and manage only, "yes, Ma'am, if that would please you." She smiles back, repeating rhetorically, "If that would please me." She releases my cock and instructs me to kneel in front of her and touch myself, reminding me not to orgasm without permission.

I carefully take my cock in my hand, knowing that if I stroke myself too hard or too fast I will soon orgasm as the pressure built up inside me is already more than I can handle. She watches me intently, a smirk on her face that almost seems mocking. She reaches out with her index finger and takes a dollop of pre-cum from the red tip of my swollen dick and brings it to my lips. I suck her finger in, tasting the sweetness of my lubricant. 

"You love pre-cum, don't you marc?" she asks. I blushed slightly, "Yes, Ma'am, I do." She smiles. "I bet you wish it was real cum though, don't you?" she questions half-joking and half-serious. I only nod in bashful agreement. She quickly follows, "Your own cum or someone else's?" I stop stroking myself because I'm now too close to exploding. I swallow before responding, "Either Ma'am, although I'd prefer someone else's cum." She laughs, adding, "Would you now? Is that what you want marc, a nice hard cock to suck on?" I release my grip on my cock again. She's taking me to my favorite places and I know much more of this will result in an orgasm yet to be granted. I stammer out, "Oh, Ma'am, yes Ma'am, I want a cock to suck on so badly and I want to swallow buckets of cum." She laughs again and smiles, "Then perhaps we should arrange that as part of our next three months together." I nearly scream with joy, knowing she wants to keep me for three more months and hopefully beyond. I resume stroking my cock, slowly and purposefully, desperately close to cumming but wanting the sensation more now than ever. 

Her expression turns more serious although her sweetness remains. "You want to fuck me, don't you?" she asks looking directly at me. My eyes widen and my heart races but before I can respond she speaks again. "You are never going to get to fuck me. Never, is that understood? I have no need for your cock. In fact, I think it should remain caged from here on out with perhaps occasional breaks when you've performed well, don't you agree?"

I nearly cum but somehow manage to stave it off even though my hand never leaves my cock. "Oh Mistress, yes! Yes, please lock me back up again and please keep me that way. I only want to please you," I plead through troubled breathes. "Please keep my orgasms and only let me cum when you desire and I promise to be good. Just please, please keep me," I beg almost hysterically. And although I desperately need to cum and the frustration has grown to impossible proportions, she has manipulated me perfectly and I would have agreed to anything she desired to be kept by her.

"Very well then, marc. You may have your reward. Stop touching yourself and for the next two weeks, until we find a suitable cock for you to suck, you will remain locked in the punishment cage – for my pleasure – and perhaps after that, if you prove to be a good cock sucker, I'll let you orgasm." Thankful but deflated, wondering if I had made a good bargain and feeling certain that I hadn't, I released my cock and moved off the bed to follow her instructions, curious how I was going to make it through the next two weeks but knowing that somehow I would.