As he vacuumed the den and moved about, his inner thighs pushed his shackled balls forward, first one side then the other, causing further tension and tightness to his balls as well as causing the butt plug to move and jerk with every step. When he sat for breakfast, reading the morning paper, he had to sit near the edge of the hard wooden chair which drove the butt plug further up inside him as well as pinning his balls tight and painfully against the forward cross support oak rail of the upright antique chair. His reading didn't come easy and as he washed last night's dishes, the coldness and hardness of the metal sink cabinet played havoc with his jutting straining cock. He felt pinned between the metal of the cabinet and the ring holding his cock and balls out away from his shaved hairless body.
"Why couldn't his internet Mistress be real?" toast thought as he drifted back into his bedroom. toast wondered looking at himself in the full length mirror if a Mistress would ever force him to wear a pair of pink, or lavender, or peach frilly lace crotchless panties to further humiliate him, make him feel even more exposed and vulnerable and more like the very submissive slut that deep in his mind he knew he was.
Could his internet Mistress see that far into his mind? Is that what she wanted of him? Is that where she wanted to take him? Or what she wanted to train him to become? He thought back to his visit with her in Florida when he secretly wished she had plugged him before his tennis lesson, making him wear only the thin white nylon Bill Rodgers jogging shorts. Then wishing later in the evening she would have walked him along the beach exposed with a leash attached to his balls and taken him with her strap-on as she said she would in the story they had started to write together. As he stood watching himself in the mirror, his cock, his ass, his nipples as well as his very heart and soul cried out for her. Would she put him in stockings and a garter belt, attach bells to his cock and plug him. Take him shopping, making his bells ring and his cock hard as they went from store to store. Would she enjoy having him kneel down in front of her, helping her try on different shoes and boots instead of the sales clerk. He imagined his legs spread so she could play with his cock with her other foot while she watched his cock rise hungrily, making it noticeable hard and prominent, seeing a wet spot begin to form and his breathing become uneasy. Would others notice, he wondered? and, what would or could he do?
As toast daydreamed in front of the mirror, he felt angry and upset with himself that his self imposed training was not going as well as he would have liked and as yet he still could not take the large 8 inch, 2 and a quarter inch in diameter dildo up his ass for her. He thought that would be a nice gift to offer her--his Mistress, whom he craved and worshipped. The times he did manage to get it fully in, he could neither wear it long nor walk more than a couple of steps. He felt angry with himself. But of course, he enjoyed keeping the house clean for her and he imaged himself attending to all those other little daily chores.
Would she ever want to show him off to her friends, locked in his heavy silver and leather chastity devices, forcing him to demonstrate his excellent oral skills? Make him worship her by pleasing her friends. All these thoughts scared him as he stood in front of the mirror. What was his mind doing and where was it going? In the past he had always been the dominant one? He tried to will his mind to stop thinking and go take his shower and get on with his day, which was more than full. But the dark fantasies drove him on. Parts of his mind said he didn't want this and asked why was he thinking all these thoughts. But as he looked in the mirror his swollen, hard, jutting, thrusting, throbbing cock gave him away. And, as his cock would not relax so too his dark desires propelled him further and further into those tiny, well guarded corners of his mind.