Fear And Arousal

I awake with a start in the cold light of dawn. The chain, padlocked around my neck and wrists, serves to immediately remind me: I am her slave boy. The chain is narrow and black, just short enough to impede my range of motion. Using my hands is a struggle, a physical realization of my subservience.

Apart from the chain I am completely naked. I slowly grind my dick against the mattress as I contemplate my early-morning duties. How can I be this hard already? This aroused? Although I dare not contort my body to actually feel myself, I'm certain I've already leaked pre-cum all over the bed. The fresh sheets caress my naked body, perhaps I can wait a bit longer before -

No! I must focus. It is far too early in the day to surrender to wantonness. Focus. The next few minutes will determine the course of the day. I cannot afford a single mistake; the cost of failure is simply too high.

Lying next to me on the bed is Mistress, my owner, author of my fate. As the chains make sure to remind me, my body is under her complete control. Mistress is beautiful, a Nordic goddess. My cock throbs at the mere sight of her beauty, long blonde hair flowing down her back, full breasts spilling out of her nightgown. No! I have no time to waste. I need to stay focused.

My morning chores are simple enough: Clean myself, tidy the flat, and prepare breakfast for Mistress. The only complication arises from the fact that I must do all this before she awakens. Mistress does not wish to be kept waiting; failure to complete these tasks while she is still asleep results in an entire day's worth of punishment and rough treatment.

I delicately inch towards the edge of the bed, careful not to let my chains rattle. As I stand up, I feel the cold morning air wash over my body. My dick, still fully erect, scarcely seems to mind the cold, and my nipples would likely be hard regardless. I stand there silently, naked,in the cold, slowly building the courage to move. She's still asleep. I make my way out of the bedroom. The hardest part is over.

My first task is to open all the curtains. Mistress is insistent that every curtain in the flat is drawn back; it makes my movement about the flat that much more difficult. It's not clear to me the extent to which people can see in, but the thought of being watched is simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. For the entire day, I will imagine their gaze upon my naked body. I will be completely exposed, a slave to Mistress and to the world. As I pull back the first curtain, a knot forms in the pit of my stomach, and several drops of pre-cum fall from my throbbing cock. I would love more than anything to lick it off the hardwood floor, but I can't, not without mistress first giving me permission.

Next, I need to clean myself. I quietly move to the bathroom, and gingerly shut the door. Washing presents its own set of challenges, as both of my wrists are chained to my neck. However, I've done this enough times to meet mistress' exacting standards, despite my limited range of motion.

I slowly open the bathroom door, and to my horror, mistress is standing there waiting for me.

"On your knees now boy!"

I throw myself on the ground in front of her. My knees, bare against the hard floor, immediately begin to ache, but I know I deserve it. I woke her up! How did I wake her up? She could make me kneel here all day if she wanted to. My body belongs to her; she can do with it as she likes.

I know better than to attempt an explanation, but my desire to please mistress knows no rationality.

"I'm so sorry Ma'am, I know I should have been quieter than I -"

"If knew you should have been quieter, why weren't you then?"

I have no response. I stare silently at the floor. Her nightgown is sheer, and her body divine, but I know better than to look. Her angelic silhouette looms over me.

Without saying another word, she swiftly grabs hold of my hair and pulls me up toward her, while simultaneously turning away from me and lifting her gown up over her ass. She's not wearing any panties (she never wears any panties), and before I even have time to take a breath, she's forced my face deep between her ass cheeks. She grabs the back of my head and pulls it even deeper. Instinctively I open my mouth and begin to lick her asshole. As I fear further displeasing her, I strain my tongue as far up her asshole as I can manage. She hasn't showered since the previous morning, a fact I'm immediately aware of. Her ass tastes much stronger than I've ever tasted her before; her fingernails are digging into the back of my head and neck; I'm struggling more and more to even breathe. At a certain point, I resign myself to the possibility that I might pass out. This is punishment.

After what feels like hours, she releases my head. I collapse on the floor, fighting to catch my breath. For a minute I'd forgotten that all the curtains are open, but now I've remembered. I'm lying on the floor, naked, in chains, struggling to catch my breath, and people might be watching me. They may have seen me drop to my knees in submission; they may have seen Mistress force my tongue deep inside her asshole. I can't believe how rock-hard that possibility makes me. Pre-cum begins to run down the shaft of my cock. Mistress has taken notice.

"Someone seems to like the taste of my asshole. Perhaps that wasn't really a punishment after all . . ."

I somehow manage to blurt out a response in between breaths.

"Yes, Ma'am. I love the taste of your asshole. Thank you for letting me taste it."

"Although, you didn't seem so hard before." She notices I'm fixated on the nearest window. "Is it the thought of being watched that has you so nice and hard?"

It's something I struggle to admit even to myself. I desperately want to deny it, but I can't lie to mistress. I can scarcely believe the words coming out of my mouth.

"Yes, Ma'am. It's the thought. Of other people seeing me like this. That has me so hard."

I'm still panting, but now from arousal. She notices the change, just how horny I now am, and sees an opportunity for more punishment.

"Well then, my little submissive boy likes other people seeing him like this. That gives me an idea. Let's go outside. . ."

I'm shocked by the places my mind is traveling to. Do I really desire for Mistress to dominate me before an audience? Is that what is going to happen? No, she wouldn't do that. . . I desperately wish to protest, but I can't.

"Thank you Ma'am."

"You shouldn't thank me yet. Wait here."

Mistress retreats to the bedroom. I'm still lying on the floor. After a few minutes she returns, wearing a rather modest mid-length dress (and I can only assume no panties). In one hand she's holding a leather collar and matching leash, in the other, the key to my chains. As she bends down to unlock my chains, her cleavage settles within inches of my face. Unable to control myself, I raise my head to gaze upon her perfection. Instantly her open hand catches the side of my face.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Her slap is more than enough to remind me of my place.

"I'm very sorry Ma'am. It won't happen again."

"It better not."

With my chains undone, she attaches the black leather collar around my neck. It is extremely tight, and I am reminded of its presence every time I inhale. She clips the leash to my neck and bids me to crouch on all fours. She places something behind me and commands me to sit down. As I sit, I feel the unmistakable sensation of a buttplug as it begins to penetrate my ass. Slowly moving down it, I realize, to my horror, that this is the large one. I can barely move when this plug is inside me, let alone walk around outside. It is becoming more and more of a struggle to even fit it inside me. I know I can take it, but I slow myself further as to gradually accept it into my body. Mistress, however, has grown impatient and pushes me down onto the plug. Fuck! Instantly my ass is filled. Mistress bends over to inspect me.

"Is it all the way inside you?"

"Yes Ma'am. It is."

"And how does it feel?"

"It feels so big inside me Ma'am. Thank you."

I am now sitting on the floor, a massive buttplug filling my ass. While my mind is still focused on how good it feels to have my ass so completely penetrated, mistress moves to the front door (only a few few away from me) and opens it. This sudden development is a shock to my system. If any of our neighbors are using the stairwell, they will see me like this. Completely naked. Collared. Leashed. A slave. I look to Mistress in horror, and she returns my gaze with a devilish grin.

"I thought you wanted other people to see you like this. Are you ashamed of being my slave?"

I am speechless. As I struggle to find the words to respond, or even figure out how possibly to respond (maybe this is what I want?), she throws some clothes out of our flat and into the stairwell.

"Well if you don't want to be seen, you may want to put those on."

As I rush out into the stairwell, I feel the buttplug shifting inside of me. Any other day I might find it uncomfortable and irritating, but today it is pure ecstasy. It's not clear to me what exactly is different; unfortunately I don't have the time to dwell upon it. I quickly cover myself with the clothes she's selected for me. To my surprise, they're perfectly average: jeans and a tee shirt. She even has given me a scarf, presumably to obscure the collar. As I finish dressing, she joins me, and tucks my leash inside my shirt and down into my pants, looping the handle of the leash around my dick and balls.

"Well then, is my little boy ready to go outside?"

"Yes Ma'am, I am."

***

We are now walking down quiet side streets, Mistress a pace or two ahead of me. Each occasional person we pass consistently ignites a renewed fear, and with it a renewed passion. Do they know? Did they see me through the window? Can they see my collar? Does my face still smell of Mistress' ass? My cock is so hard. Can they see how erect I am? Am I leaking through my pants? Where are we going? What does Mistress have planned?

I have retreated deep into my own thoughts, the tripartite captive of pleasure, Mistress, and dread. It is only gradually I notice that Mistress seems to be fidgeting with the hem of her dress. Perhaps she is nervous too? No. No, she's playing with herself! Holy shit! She's quietly masturbating. How long has she been doing this? Fuck.

After a moment, she stops and turns to me.

"I see you've finally caught on. Tell me, how do I taste?"

She pulls her right hand from between her legs and thrusts her fingers into my mouth. With her left hand, she reaches under my shirt and firmly grasps my leash, pulling me closer to her.

"Well you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself."

I am. Her pussy juices taste amazing! I enthusiastically suck every last bit off her fingers. I don't think anyone sees us, but the divine taste of Mistress has complete hold of my mind. I struggle to answer.

"Yes, Ma'am. You taste perfect, Ma'am. Thank you so much for letting me taste you, Ma'am."

"Well if you like it that much, I think I might have an idea."

She moves swiftly towards a nearby alley, pulling me behind her on the leash. When we reach a relatively secluded spot, she stops and turns to me.

"On your knees, boy!"

I immediately drop to my knees and instinctively place my hands behind my back. As I hit the ground, I am reminded of the massive plug filling my ass. Fuck! It feels so big inside me. She removes my scarf and pulls my leash out from under my clothes.

"Oh now don't you look like a perfect little slave?"

Again my mind begins to race: What is she planning? What if someone walks by? I'm completely exposed, on my knees in a back alley, collared and leashed. What if I'm seen like this? What if what I really want is to be seen like this? Fuck. Maybe I want to be seen. Would I be this terrified if I did? Would I be this hard if I didn't?

A violent yank on my leash brings me back to the present. My attention returns to Mistress as she lifts the hem of her dress up and draws my face in towards her pussy. Firmly holding the leash, she grabs the back of my head with her other hand, letting the bottom of her dress fall over my head. My face is now firmly held between her legs. As desperately as I want to taste Mistress, I know I need to wait for her command.

"Oh, what a good boy! Waiting for me to give him permission. . . Let me first say that we're not going anywhere until I cum. So if you don't want anyone to see you like this, you may want to work quickly. Now, eat my pussy!"

I open my mouth and slide my tongue deep inside Mistress. Her juices are nothing less than divine. She is a goddess and has bestowed a great honor upon me, her lowly slave, by allowing me to taste her pussy. As if in recognition of her superiority over me, she tightens her hold on the back of my head, slowly smothering me against her. Breathing, while not easy, is at least manageable this time. This is not my punishment; it is my function. I am exactly where I belong, serving Mistress, surrendering my body to her, providing the pleasure to which she is entitled. Nowhere do I feel a greater sense of purpose than I do underneath Mistress' pussy, her fucking my face.

As I settle into a rhythm, I slowly recall where I am. Holy shit! We're just in an alley, anyone could walk down here at any time. Between her legs and under her dress, I wouldn't even be able to see someone walk by. A certain feeling of safety flows from that realization. Someone could be watching me right now. It doesn't actually matter. I will never know. I can't see anything from under her dress; I can't hear anything over Mistress' panting. It doesn't matter. It's not even my concern. I'm just a slave. It's my role to obey Mistress, whatever she may command. I shouldn't be nervous of being seen. I should only be pleased that I'm able to serve Mistress and give her pleasure.

Beneath Mistress, cut off from the rest of the world, I feel none of my previous dread. I only feel the exhilaration, equal parts sexual thrill and psychological fulfilment. My place is on my knees, serving Mistress. I should feel no shame in being seen like this.

My inner conflict set aside, I return my full attention to serving Mistress. Her pussy juices are now running down my face and neck. She is wetter than I can ever recall seeing her, and as I thrust my tongue deeper inside her, I know nothing tastes as good as Mistress' pussy. As I begin to focus more on her clit, she responds almost instantly by grinding much more aggressively. I am elated by this response and respond by tonguing her clit faster and faster. She begins to moan louder now, and soon she's forcibly fucking my face. Her orgasm soon follows. She's holding my face so tightly against her that I can feel her pussy rapidly contract. As she cums, she shoots even more fluid down my face and neck. I love nothing more than Mistress cumming on my face.

After a second, she takes a step back and releases my head. As I emerge from under her dress, I survey the alley. There doesn't seem to be anyone around, but I'll never know if someone saw me. Silently, she smiles down at me. I am still on my knees, panting to catch my breath. My face is soaked with pussy juice. She takes hold of my face and tilts it up. Mistress is beautiful. Not even such a modest dress can mask the divine curves of her body. Fuck. I am so lucky to have such a perfect mistress, and I long to gaze upon her. She seems to notice the way I'm looking at her.

"Well someone seems to be staring very intently at me . . . Hmmm . . . Perhaps after being such a good slave, and giving me such a good orgasm, some sort of reward is in order. Plus you should be as horny as possible for what's about to come. . ."

I didn't hear that last part. I stopped listening, and stopped thinking, at "reward."

"Don't move," she instructs.

She takes a couple of steps back and pulls off her dress. Holding the dress in one hand, she unclasps her bra and stands there, perfectly still. Nothing is more beautiful, more perfect in my eyes than the naked body of Mistress. Her long blonde hair runs down her pale white breasts. They are large and incredible and perfect. Her pussy is expertly shaven, and her ass is divine. Her curves are divine. Her entire body is divine. She is divine. My cock strains against the fly of my jeans, and my ass constricts around my plug As I kneel in the alleyway, gazing upon the naked body of Mistress, I know no such beauty exists anywhere else on earth.

After a minute or so, she re-clothes herself.

"Tell me, boy, wasn't that a nice little reward?"

"Yes, Ma'am! Thank you so much for letting me look upon you."

"And now you promise to do exactly as I say, without even a moment's hesitation?"

"Of course, Ma'am! Anything you say."

"Good. Now get up."

As I stand, she takes my leash in her hand and heads for the road at the far end of the alley. As we near the exit, it strikes me that my collar is no longer hidden under a scarf. Mistress is leading me on a leash, and extremely dominantly at that. There will surely be people just beyond this alley. Holy shit I can see people already. Not just people, a multitude. Mistress is leading me into a crowd of people, collared and leashed, and likely with pussy juice still visible on my face. They will immediately recognize that I'm her slave. I desperately wish to protest, but I can't. I know I can't. A new wave of terror washes over me, but with each successive footstep, I am becoming more aroused. I squeeze my ass around my plug, causing my cock to grind against the inside of my jeans. Fuck. I could have cum from that alone. We're almost out of the alley now, and my mind feels as if it's about to burst. My cock feels as if it's about to burst. The crowd is even larger than I first estimated. As we reach the end of the alley, she jerks swiftly on the leash and pulls me into the light.

We're now entering the crowd. Mistress is still leading me with the leash, and I expect some reaction at any second. A comment, a glance, a look, I don't even know what I'm expecting. But it doesn't seem to be coming. Something is off. There's something different about this crowd. What's the deal with that guy? Half these people are wearing objects that draw far more attention than a collar and leash. Holy shit! Is this some mass sex thing? No, none of this seems sexual. This is, wait that is this? As she can read my mind, Mistress turns to me.

"It's a festival for performance art." Her smile is broad and wicked.

A festival for performance art! Of course! No one here sees me as a submissive slave, the property of Mistress. They simply assume Mistress and I are engaged in some sort of performance art. She can lead me around as long as she wants without attracting any negative attention. This is incredible! Any residual anxiety is quickly withering away.

As Mistress leads me around, occasional bystanders ask the title of our "piece." She responds with things like "A Treatise on the American Consumer" or "Men's Rights is a Serious Issue." Only a few minutes ago I was basking in the beauty of mistress' body. Now I get to observe the beauty of her mind. She truly is a goddess, and I am honored to be her slave.

As we move towards the edge of the crowd, we are approached by another couple asking about our "art." This time, Mistress responds, "I am his mistress, and he is my slave. He serves me and I use his body however I see fit." The couple walks away, discussing her "profundity," and I can feel the hormones coursing through my body. Mistress just introduced me as her slave! I can feel the pre-cum spilling from the tip of my dick, and look down to see it's beginning to leak through my jeans. Mistress notices it too.

"Perhaps we should find somewhere to sit down."