The Goddess and Her Pet

A woman awaits her company upon her reading chair. She sips cold wine and relaxes in her home. The novel The Silence Of The Lambs lies open in her hands. Her silk robe provides just enough warmth to contrast the cool air steadily entering her nostrils.

The door to her apartment jingles as the lock is disengaged. Her husband enters and is home from work. He closes the door behind him, locks it, and turns to see her. Without a moments delay, he falls to his knees and places his face to the floor, arms stretched forward and palms up. Tired or energized. Filthy or clean. Angry or elated. This is her domain, and he knows his place in it. On his knees and at her service. No matter what.

"I'm home Goddess, how may I serve you?"

While this was standard practice, she never tired of seeing this sight. It reminded her of how special of a woman she was. That a man, this man in particular, would choose to hold her high. That he would surrender his freedom and autonomy to her will. That her wish was his command. That he gave her the keys to his body. That she was given the power to play out her best and worst instincts on another person. And here he knelt, just for her. Because she was worth it.

Behind his jeans, a steel chastity cage protected her property from his base instincts. A cage only she had access to. The control panel of his brain. She used it like a drug. Day after day, she twisted him with attention that flooded his brain with avarice. She used her body like heroin, only allowing him enough to become hooked on her even more. Behind that lock was an open vein, ready for her to inject that lust. She had turned him into a junkie for her attention, and he thanked her for it. He asked for it in the beginning. Now, he simply whimpered and moaned her name.

Stone still, he waited.

"Welcome home, pet." She purred. "Go shower and come back naked. Crawl."

Without question, he did as she instructed. Some days, she simply told him to rise. Some days, he stayed kneeling for an hour or more. Her will was his life.

A short time later, he crawled back to the living room. He again knelt in the same position at the center of the room and waited. She silently took a moment to look at the scars that decorated his shoulders and legs. She carved her territory marking into his skin with her nails if he ever forgot his place.

"Approach." She hummed.

He did, crawling around the oak coffee table between them and stopped at her feet. Knowing what was to come next, he was on his fists instead of his face.

With Korn at a present but undistraciting volume in the background, she felt herself becoming warm. The silk wrapped around her body suddenly felt stifling. Her pussy was vibrating in anticipation. Her stud was here to service her.

From an end table, she grabbed a massive steel collar. It was tall enough to hold his head high at the proper posture. Like a venus fly-trap, she curved the manacle around his exposed neck and closed it with a soft 'snap.' The padlock was applied, and the sound of the click turned her insides into an oven. He remained still.

"Turn around."

He did. Her pink handcuffs went on next. Despite the innocent appearance, they were fully functional and without mercy. Much like her. Grabbing one wrist, she twisted his arm behind his back and held it while she applied the cuff. Keeping his hand pinned to his lower back, she grabbed his other wrist and forcefully brought it behind him. Of course, he didn't struggle. He never struggled in the beginning. Still, she wasn't politely asking for his surrender. She demanded it. She took it. Because he trusted her and because she could.

Once double-locked, she bent him over the coffee table. She sat for a moment, running her claws up and down the backs of his thighs. She saw goosebumps rise along his hide. He was careful not to moan, as he knew this would only enthuse her steadily rising passions. Moan or no, it didn't matter. She was quickly turning into a monster. She was in heat. Satisfying her itch was a fools errand, but he had no choice. She held the keys to his cock. She was his heroin. He lay bent over the oak table, shivering with a mix of fear and desire.

Reaching between his legs, she coiled her hands around his testicles and pulled them back between his legs. She strapped a small shock collar around his balls, behind his cage. She could see his locked cock straining in it's prison. Fear had a habit of doing that for him. That's why she used heavy steel for restraints. That's why she kept him quiet. He was property to be used and abused. He couldn't leave. He couldn't stop. He couldn't resist. He had as much of a chance of escaping that apartment as a prisoner had of leaving a maximum-security prison. He wasn't going anywhere, regardless of what she did to him. This was real. This was steel. This was what they both wanted.

Predator and prey.

"Face me." She commanded.

He straightened himself and turned to face her. He crawled forward on his knees until they rested on a cushioned pad just in front of her seat. He spent a lot of time here. She held the remote to the shocker in front of him.

"I'm not in the mood for games, honey," she informed him. "Do well, and I'll reward you. Don't stop."

He nodded assent, eyes never leaving hers. She attached a slim chain to his collar and ran the leash under one of her thighs. She pulled up and drew his face between her legs. Her feet alighted gently to his shoulders. Softly, she ran the silk beside her and lay exposed on her couch. He looked up at her with a mix of adoration and intimidation. The look of a good dog. He looked down to the task at hand (or face, depending your perspective).

She pulled further, but she needn't have bothered. He jumped in. He was both eager and slow. His thirst for her was a controlled chaos, brought to bear by a combination of the remote she held and the unquestionable authority of her voice. Her powerful legs gracefully coiled around her toy's neck and offered a soft embrace. Her smooth, cool skin felt like heaven running alongside his burning face.

Her scent and taste consumed him. Like a vampire possessed by his meal, he sought to extract as much cum out of her as possible. His stomach growled in anticipation. She required his lunch be small to make him just a little hungry by the time he came home. It made him more passionate and easier to use. He didn't mind.

She was clean. She was always clean when she pulled him in to worship, as was he. His first and only prayer started from her tailbone and moved forward. His warm breath painted her asshole and pussy as he explored upward between her legs. The flatness of his tongue rested on her back entrance as his nose buried into her front. Without reservation, she shuddered and moaned in pleasure. Her breath shook, her brain too attentive to the sensations coming from below.

As his mouth reached her taint, he gave his first kiss. This most personal part of her body being loved upon triggered her legs to squeeze for a moment. The music leading his tempo was briefly muted as his ears were closed to the world. It took only a moment for her to regain her composure and pull his leash back in.

He contentedly picked up where he left off and gave a second kiss to her taint. He felt the collar give a gentle tug, but her flower remained open this time. With a grin, he gave a third kiss but held from retreating. The suction began and she took a deep breath in, knowing she may not get another for a minute or two. His kiss brought her skin into his mouth, allowing his teeth and tongue to keep the nerves still as he played. He ever-so-gently bit into her crevices, leaving the taint exposed and trapped. He gave it only a single teasing flick before surrendering what little control he had back to her.

His absence lasted less than 2 seconds. With far less subtlety, he drove his tongue as far into her pussy as he could. He ran himself along every square inch of her inside as he could, running himself in circles and being careful not to stimulate her clit with his nose too much. He wasn't gentle or slow this time, and she took her first breath in 20 seconds only to let out a primal "FUUUUUUUCK". With an appetizer of her juices in his mouth and on his face, he gave 3 gentle kisses to her sex before moving just above it.

The space between the vagina and the clit is where sanity goes to die. It's just far enough away from the clit to not provide an easy orgasm but just sensitive enough to make her wish for anything to finish her off. It's an itch she can't reach. It's the billow of a furnace. With her pleasure button safe and sound between his nose and upper lip, he again began to suck. Her knuckles began to pop as they dug into the cushions underneath her. The leash lay forgotten beside her, as did the remote. Her pet had a brief moment where he was thankful his goddess was gripping the couch instead of his scalp. He let out a chuckle.

Perhaps she read his mind. Perhaps she was well past the point where humane, level-headed thinking had any influence. In any case, she pulled his leash with a growl. It would be his only warning. Don't stop, even for a moment to laugh.

Oh, but he was a crafty one. He knew just how to please his owner with more than brainless capitulation. He stayed just below her clit, non-verbally refusing to proceed until either he was ready to finish her or her hand reached for the remote. He continued to bite, lick, suck, and torment everywhere except the spot she desired most. But she was currently incapacitated. Her brain was too stimulated with pleasure to do anything about trying to finish herself. She wasn't worried about finishing. She wasn't worried about anything. Lust and greed paralyzed her in ecstacy.

He felt a shot of wrath shoot through him. She was helpless like this. He could do anything he wanted. She was willing to do anything to make him keep going. But her bondage was there to keep him at her service. His arms reflexively tried to come forward to grab her ankles. He could immobilize her. He could chain her down and tease and tickle her until she was crying. He could be the sadistic bastard he had begged her to be. He could also win the lottery, but he had a better chance of that than her ever giving him the chance to take away her control.

At last, he came to the end of his journey. His tongue ran up, pressed into her clit, and sat still. After a few seconds, she gave a twitch. She may as well have sprayed her clit with the massage setting on a showerhead. She gave a soft whimper, too overloaded to even twitch again. He waited a moment longer before giving his face a sharp upturn. His tongue ran across her bulb like soft sandpaper and she almost screamed. He gave another, and her legs twitched inward.

Now came the sprint. The climax. The pump had been primed. The damsel was in distress. There was a job to be done, and he aimed to make history. He licked and sucked her clit like a man possessed of gluttony. Her hips rocked up and down his face in tempo with the metal blaring through her lair and he watched her body tense up.

He didn't slow down. He licked, sucked, and tongue fucked her as hard and as fast as he could. Her first orgasm came after about 30 seconds. Her legs began to crush his head again. She jerked her whole body down and away from him, but he followed. She jerked up, and he followed. He sucked her clit inside his mouth and trapped it similarly how he had her taint. There was no mercy this time. His teeth gently raked along the length of her stimulation and he did not let her go. His tongue darted back and forth with violent pressure, but the suction held her firm. A second orgasm came, accompanied by a panting string of profanity.

He tasted her. He tasted the thick fluid of her orgasm and swallowed every drop he could get his tongue on. He burrowed inside her like a dog finding a bone. Again, he licked and touched every piece of her insides as he could.

With finality and affection, her feet gently pushed his face away. He sat up to a sore back, sore knees, and sore shoulders, but his attention wasn't with his pain. It was with the glorious, beautiful, enthralling, lovely, idol of womanhood that lay catching her breath on her throne in front of him. His face was covered in her and he inhaled her with gratitude.

"Thank you for letting me eat your pussy, Goddess."

Her perfect foot stroked the side of his face as her other came back down to the floor.

"You're welcome, puppy."

He knelt with patience and obedience, not daring to disturb even the foot that rested on his shoulder. She lay in post-orgasmic bliss for a few minutes before standing. She wrapped her robe around her before looking down at her husband. He turned from his spot to face her on his knees. He looked up at her, not knowing what to expect but eager to excel. Her face was that of a woman satisfied. Reaching into her robe, she pulled out a handcuff key. She grabbed the leash with her toes and gently pulled it down toward the ground. He knelt forward until his forehead touched the floor and his cuffed wrists were facing up. She uncuffed a wrist and let him bring them underneath his bowed body for relief. Taking a second key from her robe, she unlocked the heavy collar from around him and placed it back on her end table. She neatly wrapped the leash inside it's circumference.

"Stand."

He did. She uncuffed his other wrist and placed them beside her collar. His eyes never left her face. That look of contentment was his highest drug. It's what he lived for. Her satisfaction with his service and his love for her is what fueled his heart. He didn't intend to miss a single second.

"You're free for the evening, pet. Do as you please."

"Thank you, Goddess."

His reward wouldn't come that day, but it didn't matter. He trusted her. Every day she spoke a word to him was a reward anyway. As he came back from the bedroom, this time in boxers and a shirt, he came back to her couch and sat at her feet. A glass of wine filled one of her hands and a book occupied the other. Beside her throne sat a collection of pillows where he was allowed to sit close to her. This was his place. Beneath her and at her side. As he opened a book of his own, he felt her fingers run through his hair. A few minutes passed before she sent him a surprise shock at the second lowest setting. He damn near jumped out of his skin. Her laughter rang in his ears as his dick tried to harden and break the steel chastity cage.

Both sat in music, illuminated by sunlight and works of fantastical fiction, in their places of greatest comfort. A Goddess and her pet. A wife and husband. Lovers. Soulmates.