Hello My Pet 1

I didn't even bother knocking as I slowly made my way towards her door. It was always open, always inviting, always welcoming to my arrival. Like an evil mastermind, enticing new victims into their lair each day. Easy to enter, impossible to leave. Just like that, except the

evil mastermind

was a woman who looked more like a librarian than anything else, and the

new victims

was just me. Always the same fool, entering willingly to the lair of his own frustration. His own denial.

Closing the door, my fate sealed for the evening until she released me, I quickly stripped. Jeans, shirt, briefs, and socks all in a neat pile by the front door.

No clothes.

This was the first lesson I had been taught by my Mistress. While I was in fairly good shape, I certainly took some time being so openly naked and exposed in front of her, having personal body images as we all do. But now, having a profound respect and trust for the woman I willingly submitted to, I happily disrobed.

Moving to her entrance carpet, I felt myself sink into the comfortable fabric, kneeling in place. Sitting on my heels, back straight, I held each elbow behind my body, presenting.

Position,

my second lesson. Each session we had together, this was how she found me, often left in place while she finished her dinner, or simply for her amusement. Countless hours I found myself in this position, Mistress ensuring I could perfect it in my sleep. Which, depending on how late she kept me, was often the case.

At first I hated it, kneeling in place endlessly was so boring! I wanted to be played with, used, feel her touch on my body, even punished. Anything was better than being left here, stuck in place from a simple command by my Mistress. But as our dynamic progressed, learning more about one another, I grew to understand the importance of what I was doing. Mistress was instilling discipline in her sub, absolutely, but it also gave me time for reflection.

Kneeling here, focusing on staying perfectly still, I felt the outside world melt away. No work, no stress, no internal struggles. One by one they, like my clothes, were piled at the door. I was here for one reason, to serve my Mistress. To have fun. To let go. Now, my time in position was something I looked forward to, even needed. My breathing steady, I focused on each aspect of my body, sinking into the role required of me for the evening.

I was ready.

Mistress, however, was not. Being 'on time' was not one of her skills. Somedays it was work, things put off, left to the last minute while she scrambled to finish the day. It always made me smile when she placed me under her desk, feeling those nimble fingers run through my hair, listening to her faintly mumble "what the fuck..." under her breath reading an email. Resting my head on her lap, I would simply wait, Mistress was always worth it.

If it wasn't work, it was often cooking. In fact, it was usually cooking. I'd lost count of how many times Mistress had poked her head into the hallway, cheeks stuffed with food, trying to finish eating before I arrived. Often my first task involved helping with dishes that had piled up, rolling my eyes as I listened to her exclaim this was her plan for the evening all along.

Today must have been a good day, hearing Mistress walk past me in the hall. She rested a hand on my shoulder, that comforting touch of hers always radiating heat through my body. A phone in her hand, I heard a faint feminine voice on the other line, most likely her mother. Bending down to kiss my forehead, she continued on, leaving me in place.

I blushed, the feeling of her lips stuck to me, seeping into my mind. I'd never understand how easily she could do that to me, rendered feeling seventeen again, that nervous excitement coursing through your body. Resting her hand on my chest, cupping my chin, playfully biting my ear, Mistress seemed to be able to break me with the smallest gesture. I was hopelessly and completely devoted to her in these moments...her sly little grins confirming that she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

I knelt comfortably for another twenty minutes before Mistress returned, mouthing 'sorry' as she sighed, unable to end the conversation. I bit my tongue as her foot, covered in nylons hidden beneath her jeans, made its way up my thigh. Fixated, the brimming excitement in my body having an effect on my breathing, I watched as she slowly moved towards the third lesson Mistress introduced into my life shortly after submitting to her.

Cage.

Chastity...isn't for everyone. And for the first few times she had me wear one for her, I was indeed everyone. Frustrating, impractical, punishing, and a giant pain in the ass, there were many downsides to wearing a cage. However Mistress took so much pleasure in it, knowing that throughout the week I could literally

feel

her control around my cock. A constant reminder, each morning groaning while I strained against my metal prison.

With sparkling eyes she would listen each week, one hand gently cupping my stretched and near swollen balls as I described how frustrating it was. How much I felt this ache inside of me, this endless and ceaseless desperation. Almost like a drug to her, she drank it all in, giggling at the pictures I'd send at her "request". It was not a request.

Yet, as with my position, and most of the lessons Mistress set before me, I grew to love it. The aching feeling I at first dreaded became a companion of mine, the familiar metal cage resting between my legs a part of me. Straining, my cock desperately trying to break free from this almost self-imposed prison, became a sensation I welcomed. Feeling trapped, wanting a release, but simultaneously knowing that this made Mistress happy.

Holding back my moan, Mistress shot me a knowing smile as her foot rubbed my cage. Those friendly, intense eyes staring down at her toy, almost daring me to make a noise, to break position as I was teased. My body tense, I resisted, trying desperately to ignore how wonderful her tormenting felt. The familiar ache in my cock, the constant frustration of a release stolen from me. Wearing a cage was one thing, but combined with the fourth lesson I'd been taught, it was often close to unbearable.

No cumming.

I remember the first time she had said it, I was almost sure she misspoke. But no, all four lessons Mistress put forth were mandatory. Required. Unnegotiable. Firm. I had never once been allowed clothes in her home. Breaking position was destroying the trust we had in one another. Removing my cage without her would shatter any hope I had of remaining as her sub, of serving this wonderful, intelligent, kind, caring, and beautiful Domme.

And in the year I had been with her, I had not cum. Once.

This was, understandably, the hardest lesson I had to learn, and the most difficult one to follow. Denial was a completely new world for me, an aspect of bdsm I had never experienced. So used to gratification, whether on my own or with others, coming to the agreement that it was no longer allowed was...almost something I could not handle. It took many weeks of being with her, crying in her arms, broken from the frustration I felt inside of me, before I finally accepted it into my life.

Even now, feeling her foot gently rubbing against my cage, that creeping sensation built up inside of me to resist. To demand my key, to sate the urge that never seemed to lessen, never seemed to lose its intensity. But I did. Each and every time I won the battle raging inside of me, falling under the protective control of my Mistress. Because she wanted it of me. Because I wanted it. Because I needed it.

Because she was right.

That intense, aching denial, always on the surface, so easily brought forth. Mistress knelt down, seeing the internal struggle through my eyes, watching intently. As I calmed down, my breathing returning to a shallow, controlled state, I returned her stare with one of resolve, blushing from the prideful smile spread across her face. Yes, denial was hard. But seeing that smile made it all worth it.

I heard Mistress say goodbye, the phone placed down for the evening, listening as her tiny footsteps returned to my side. A collar, thick padded leather, wrapped itself around my neck, the welcoming sound of a lock behind me. Tracing a finger along my body, she slowly walked in front of me, the same finger making its way underneath my chin. Crotch directly in front of my face, her legs pressed tightly against my chest, Mistress slowly raised my eyes to hers, that familiar steel, dominating glare behind black-rimmed glasses. I gulped, my heartbeat wildly increasing, waiting to hear the words that began each of our sessions.

"Hello, my pet."

She held me there, not daring to break eye contact, seeming to drain all the strength from my body, making me feel small. Weak. A woman I outweighed by nearly 50kg, one that I towered over when permitted to stand, and one who I could (and had) lift with one arm. Yet, as always, there was no dispute which one of us was in charge. Next to her I felt helpless, desperate, and hopelessly in need of her control.

Smiling, Mistress playfully smacked my cheek, taking one of my hands in hers, leading her shaking and excited sub downstairs. As her phone call had eaten into part of our evening already, she wasted no time in guiding me into the metal ring she'd prepared hanging from the ceiling. Carefully, I stepped through the bottom, a metal bar splitting the ring, as I'd done many times in the past. Next my upper body went through, groaning from the tight fit, feeling the encouraging spank on my ass behind me.

I felt stuck, wedged in place, bent over and exposed. Exactly the point of her little contraption, strapping two separate leather harnesses around my head and chest to hold them in place as well. Mistress fussed around me, adjusting minorly until she was happy that I was comfortable, an excited smile spread over her face. I whimpered slightly as she placed a ball gag in my mouth, my cooperation earning me another kiss on the forehead.

No longer held silent, I moaned softly with each touch, each contact seeming electric in my position. Her hands ran along my back, feeling the muscles held in place by my bondage. Mistress explored my ass, gripping and spanking as she saw fit, giggling at the chorus of gagged noises being emitted from her eager sub. Noises that did not subside as she gripped my cage.

Already straining from being under her control, my cock nearly exploded from being played with. I whimpered into my gag, desperation seeping out of me as she gently rubbed and squeezed the cage. Listening to the constant stream of satisfied laughter behind me, I once again allowed myself to simply fall under her control, unable to do anything else. I was her pet, her plaything, and teasing was easily one of Mistress' favourite games.

By the time I felt the cage being removed, my poor cock was dripping with need. Sighing, feeling the metal ring slip passed my balls, I groaned in appreciation as my erection sprang forth. It had been over a week since I felt it last, painfully hard, eagerly twitching in the air, seeking her touch.

Mistress simply offered up another giggle, leaving to collect more toys. I moaned, huffing from excitement of being freed, the physical representation of my inner desperation, frustration, and need. As she returned, I whined appreciatively as her hand grasped my cock, slowly offering a few strokes, feeling the tension in her palm.

However, her focus turned towards my balls, pulled back into her wooden humbler. The device tightened, trapping them exposed between my legs, the curved ends resting against my thighs. Mistress offered a few taps, sending shocks through my body, showing just how on display I currently was.

As I recovered from her display of power, I felt lubed fingers circling my ass, groaning as she stretched out my hole. One hand gripping my ass, she quickly found my g-spot, rubbing circles expertly as she listened to the effects it was having on me. I whimpered, vulnerably at her mercy while she laughed, stretching me further after having her fun. I soon found out why, as the balled anal hook smoothly pushed into my ass, connected to the metal ring.

The constant pressure inside of me, the tension of my binds across my body, barely able to stay on my feet in the middle of the room, Mistress stepped back to admire her work. Grinning, she knelt down in front of me, seeing the effects of the last ten minutes spread across my face. A firm hand in my hair, that excited glint of anticipation in her eyes, a look I had come to learn to fear.

"Are you ready, my pet?"

I whimpered, nodding at my Mistress. Grinning, she let go of my hair, leaving me in suspense as I listened to her circle behind me. Once more I felt her smooth, tiny hands rub my exposed ass, my trapped balls, and my flexed thighs. Breathing heavily, I braced myself for what would come next.

Whack.

I nearly screamed from the first bite of her cane, a fresh stinging mark across my cheeks. Mistress always enjoyed starting hard, to sharpen my mind. I felt tiny little touches afterwards, trying with all my might not to flinch.

Whack.

Another on my thighs, Mistress savouring the whimpering coming from the effects of her cane. She continued with her pattern, planting five or six gentle touches between each strike.

Whack.

Never hitting the same spot, moving up and down my body, leaving a beautiful striping pattern. She would often lie me down at the end of a night, rubbing lotion over my sore body, explaining to me which was her favourite.

Whack.

I screamed, this time Mistress aiming at my exposed balls. Not as hard as her efforts above and below, but strong enough to bring tears to my eyes. I felt each tiny strike like a hammer through my body, soon whimpering uncontrollably.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Whack.

Openly crying, I soon felt Mistress resting my head on her shoulder, my gag removed. Her hands in my hair, she comforted me, my tears darkening the fabric of her shirt.

"Shhhhhhh, such a good boy. That's it. That's it. My good little boy."

I sniffled, the stinging behind me subsiding slightly, but fresh in my mind. I felt her grip in my hair, staring into her eyes while I blinked away the remainder of my tears. She smiled, hands constantly petting me, never looking away.

"You okay, sweetie?" Blushing, I nodded, slowly losing myself in her beautiful eyes. Such compassion behind them, determination. Equally devoted to my well-being as she was my temporary destruction. Mistress held me there for what seemed like an eternity, feeling a sense of calmness through my body. I could have stayed there all night.

Eventually she patted my cheek gently, straightening to show me her second surprise for the evening. Strapped over her jeans was her favourite cock, which she of course never tired of pointing out was bigger than mine. Her grip in my hair returning, I moaned as Mistress pushed the tip passed my lips, staring down to watch it disappear into my mouth.

Slowly, I opened my throat as she thrusted in and out, coating her temporary cock with saliva. Bringing tears to my eyes for a different reason, I tried my best to take as much as I could, Mistress only activating my gag reflex twice. Which I'm sure she did on purpose.

Pulling out, Mistress jokingly called me her 'good little cocksucker', before moving behind to remove my hook. I blushed, moaning freely as I felt the steel ball slide out of my ass, unclipped from the ring on my lower back. Placed to the side, Mistress rubbed her cock up and down my hole, listening as I excitedly whimpered, wanting it inside of me. After watching me suck on it, taking so much punishment for her, she was only happy to oblige.

I groaned, my mind always seeming to melt every time she fucked me. Feeling her large cock sliding in and out, grinding against my g-spot, filling and stretching to the limits I could take, I could barely remember to breathe. Mistress smirked as she listened to me pant, placing tiny little taps on my balls, just enough to watch me squirm.

My moans intensified as I felt the pressure in my cock ready to burst. As if it was trapped in the tip, tingling and agonisingly close, I shook as that familiar feeling spread through me. Mistress, noticing the effects her cock was having on me, increased her taps on my balls. Each time I got close, she would tap away, scaring off my orgasm. A constant ebb and flow, expertly in her control, I whimpered in frustration as she fucked me.

I barely noticed when her cock finally left my ass, my mind a fog of frustration. The harness on my chest, arms pinned behind me the only thing left on, I complied as Mistress helped me to stand, stretching from being bent over for so long. My poor cock stood erect, dripping constantly with the effects of being denied over and over. Smiling, Mistress helped me to sit down, gently guiding my arms and legs into new bindings.

Groaning, I watched as she clipped a steel ring around my erection, connected and secured to a bar beneath it. Unable to move, I felt the straps holding me down, Mistress ensuring I was completely immobilised. I was no stranger to this chair, finding myself in it often towards the end of our sessions. I knew what was coming.

Placing a comfy mat between my legs, Mistress knelt down, hands already covered by her trusty gloves. I whimpered, staring down at all the toys she'd brought over, knowing the purpose of each one, knowing none of them would be the key to my release. That excited, knowing look returned to her eyes, looking up at me while I slightly shook with fear.

Lube generously covering her gloves, she carefully began stroking my cock. I tensed, testing my bindings, but I was held still. I wouldn't be going anywhere until it was permitted by my Mistress. Never taking her eyes off me, she watched me whimper, shaking as I felt her slowly move those firm hands up and down. Sometimes I tricked myself into forgetting what it felt like to feel my cock played with during the week, safely locked away in my cage.

Mistress took pleasure in reminding me.

Wide-eyed, I silently stared down at her mouth open, unable to even voice my excitement. Mistress grinned, her hand slowing just as I felt my orgasm beginning to surface. At first during our sessions I would warn her when I was close, always without fail. But now, after so long, she knew my cock better than I did. No warnings, no accidents, no mistakes. Somedays I swore she could read my mind.

Settling into her rhythm, I was a helpless passenger to my own denial. Stroke, slow, stop. Over and over, back and forth, with the occasional taunting giggle thrown in between. I knew she wasn't going to let me cum, that my orgasm would be held just out of reach each time, yet my brain still held me hostage. Still held out hope. Which was exactly what my Mistress preyed on, what she toyed with in me. Hope.

After a while she picked up a fleshlight, more of a half sleeve if anything. Clear, with tiny nodes spread throughout the inside, rubbing endlessly on my cock. Just big enough for her hand, Mistress took great care as she slipped it over the head, my body shivering from this new torment sliding down my cock. I hated how much I loved this thing.

Her attention swapped between staring at the desperate state my cock was in, to the strain on my face from being toyed with. Expertly, the fleshlight moved up and down my cock, inhumanly slow, always stopping when it needed to.

After a point, being left on edge seemed to blend together, no longer getting

close

to cumming, it was more like I was permanently there. Permanently trapped, mind locked in an endless state of arousal, unable to go forward or back. Hanging mid-air, feeling as if one push would send me soaring into the sky, one subtle touch and I'd fly.