She Chose Me

"Mistress. Will there be anything else, Mistress?" I asked after curtsying to my Mistress and her guest. I had finished tidying up after dinner and had served them their post-dinner coffee. I stood off to the side, eyes lowered to the floor, my hands behind my back with one wrist lightly clasping the other. My chest was thrust out, and one high-heeled foot was nearly directly in front of the other. Aside from my shoes I wore only my collar and cuffs, which is all I ever wore around the house.

"Um, let me think, have you finished your chores for today?" She was wearing jeans and a stylish, subtle white blouse printed with marigolds. Her friend Gladys wore white capris and a light blue sleeveless sweater top. Mistress has shoulder-length light brown hair and sharp blue eyes and is the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Mistress. Yes, Mistress." Acknowledge that she spoke to me, answer her question directly and simply, address her respectfully.

"Checked the mail?"

"Mistress. Yes, Mistress."

"Reorganized the spices?"

"Mistress. Yes, Mistress."

"Polished my boots?"

"Mistress. Yes, Mistress."

"Well, I don't think we need anything else from you right now, you may wait in your room. The adults are going to talk now. Run along, girl."

"Mistress. Thank you, Mistress."

I didn't get more than a dozen steps before she called me back.

"Slave? Slave, come back, I changed my mind."

I trotted back to her side and lowered my gaze again.

"Mistress. Yes, Mistress?"

"Come closer, girl."

I curtsied and took one more step closer to her and she looked up at me, but I couldn't tell what expression she had. I had failed a task last week and Mistress had revoked the privilege of looking her in the face. Then she reached out with her hand and rubbed my sleeping girl cock and balls. I forced myself not to gasp at her touch but I must have flinched a little because both of the women started laughing.

"Hm. How long has it been, you slut?"

"Mistress. Thirty-six days, Mistress," I squeaked.

"Is that a new record?" Gladys asked Mistress.

"No, still a few days shy, I kind of want to see if we can make a new record but she just seems to need to come so badly."

"Up to you, of course. If she's given relief her suffering won't be anywhere near this entertaining."

"That's true, but I just love her and I want her to enjoy things."

"Look at her, she loves not coming."

My breathing had deepened and my cock had hardened and my whole pelvis was flush with need.

"That's true isn't it? You love being my denial slut, don't you?"

"Mistress. Yes, Mistress!" I gasped.

"Alright I'll think about it. But, oh, yes, instead of going to your room, I'd like you to instead go get your wrist and ankle cuffs and the short nose chain. Then I want you to go out onto the deck and pick a suitable post, face it, lock your ankles together, lock the nose chain to the post, and then lock your wrists behind your back. I'll come get you when I need you."

I curtsied to acknowledge her instructions. I sighed as she let go of my cock. I walked off to her bedroom.

I went to the toy chest in the walk-in closet and knelt in front of it. I retrieved the chains and locks I would need and walked back to the ladies chatting in the parlour. I kept my eyes averted and drew as little attention to myself as possible. I slid the patio door open and looked at the four posts.

Mistress would want me safe but she would also be amused if I got spotted so I picked a post that wouldn't be seen unless someone happened to come through the backyard. My heels clacked over the wood as a prepared my chains. I stepped up to the post and linked a half-foot-long chain through the rings in my ankle cuffs by two small padlocks. Then I shuffled forward a bit and did the same with my nose, locking a chain to my septum piercing and locking the chain to the ring in the post. Then I locked my wrists in the handcuffs.

That was it. I was helpless. I needed Mistress to release me. The warm late-spring wind curled around me, brushing my ass, tickling my boobs, making my cock confused between contraction and expansion. Then I waited.

I heard the wind rustling the leaves. They fluttered and my heart did so too. Suffering imprisonment and tedium for Mistress pleased me, made me proud.

I heard her laughing with her friend, enjoying conversation. "The adults are going to talk now," she had said. I was only her slave slut, good only for cooking, cleaning, and serving. At that thought my cock reached its full length and bumped into the post. It didn't feel good, but I flinched back anyhow because when Mistress says she wants me to suffer denial, then I won't take any chances.

At least two hours passed. My calves were burning and I was thirsty. The sun was going down and the breeze had gotten cooler. I was too uncomfortable to think about desire. But did I get angry? No. I knew that Mistress could see me if she wanted to and I wanted her to see me suffering for her like a good girl.

She chose me.

I thought that I would never fall in love again. I feared I would grow old alone. I wept alone in my bedroom, in longing and loneliness. A tall trans woman, broad at the shoulder, strong jaw, big feet. I never thought I would turn anyone's head ever again but I turned hers.

She chose me.

Mistress Jamie. 5'8", immaculate brows over brightly intelligent eyes, perfect teeth. Slim and graceful. Her voice somewhat on the nasal side but believably female. She passes nearly perfectly. A fixture of the local BDSM scene far before she began transitioning, popular and well-liked. I thought she was out of my league.

She chose me.

I could hardly believe it when she flirted with me. I had just returned to the scene after an extended absence and all but resigned that I wouldn't even be acceptable as some couple's unicorn fling, much less someone's first choice. But she said I was beautiful and laced her fingers into the back of my hair and grabbed me before giving me a kiss that was like a lightning bolt to my clit.

She chose me.

42 years old, too late in my life to become a young, nubile woman. Too tall and broad to pass, so I never tried and I was the better for it. From the day I decided to transition I was anxious about being past my best-by date, agonizingly convinced that I wouldn't be able to appeal to female-attracted people. My string of rejections and awkward dates in that time did nothing to ease my fear. Then she smiled at me and I was hers. And she always helps me see why she thinks I'm beautiful. It's because I am.

That's why, as I stood naked attached by the nose to a post, humiliated, objectified, ignored, diminished, I bore her no resentment. I was happy to suffer so at her command. Look at me, Mistress, it's all for you.

The patio door slid open.

"Doing okay, slave?"

"Mistress. Yes, Mistress."

"Do you want me to let you out?"

"Mistress. If it pleases you, Mistress."

"Okay, give me five minutes to say goodbye to Gladys and then I think someone has an appointment with my strap-on."

"Mistress. Yes, Mistress."

She closed the door and my heart hammered. The night was far from over.