PREVIOUSLY -- Jonathan is captured by and submits to Mistress Cassandra in an attempt to save the love of his life -- Jasmine -- from a kidnapping. However, Cassandra reveals that the kidnapping has merely been a ruse to get Jonathan to wear her collar. Cassandra also tells Jon that while Jasmine wants him to be her slave, he must first convince the Mistress that he is worthy of Jasmine's affection. Jonathan agrees to be "evaluated" by Cassandra in her "playroom," determined to be judged the right man for the woman he loves.
***
I rested the back of my head against the cool, beige-painted brick wall and tried to wiggle some feeling back into my shoulders. Mistress Cassandra had tethered the leather mitts enclosing my hands to two of the many tie-down points on the wall. My arms were spread outward and upward so my hands were above the level of my head. My leather collar was also tethered to the wall by a pair of slack lengths of fine metal chain attached to the ring mounted on it under my chin. My cuffed ankles were being forced apart by two-foot long spreader bar. The ankles were also tethered to the wall, though with just enough slack to allow some small movement. Otherwise, I was naked as I waited alone in the room.
Some of my questions about Jasmine's so-called kidnapping had been answered, but the answers left many more questions burning in my mind. Although I wasn't gagged, I had been forbidden from speaking, and the threat of retaliation against the woman I loved was all that kept me silent now. But who was Cassandra, and what could she possibly be holding over Jasmine to keep her as a slave for four years?
I grunted as my left shoulder started to ache. In my academic past, I had injured it playing baseball. Even though it had healed, it still gave me the occasional twinge. I groaned and flexed my arms slightly as I leaned forward to take the weight off the affected joint, going until the slack chains on my collar were taut. I shifted my feet to the base of the wall and allowed my arms to bear the load of most me for a moment. Something in my left shoulder popped, and the pain subsided. I sighed and resumed my original position. While my arms were tired, they weren't in any great discomfort -- yet.
Just as I finished assessing my physical condition, Mistress Cassandra entered the room. She was still wearing the ensemble of her black and red silk corset, garter belt, panties, stockings, stiletto heels and leather wrist cuffs over her satin opera gloves. She smiled at me as she closed the door and locked it. She walked to the center of the room and stood there, looking me over slowly letting her eyes drink in every inch of me from my toes to the crown of my head.
I could feel my blush starting when I realized what she was doing. Her burgundy lips parted slightly, showing a tip of moist, pink tongue and straight, porcelain teeth before closing them again. She'd taken her hair out of the bun behind her head, allowing it to fall softly around her face and shoulders. I could feel my heartbeat quicken as I looked back into those beautiful eyes, as I felt the stirrings of an erection once again.
"I missed you too, slave," she said at last. Cassandra stepped over to the mounted pegboard to her right, stooped and opened one of the containers toward its bottom. As she crouched down, my gaze was drawn to the glossy curves of her thighs and calves, sheathed in the sheer, smoke-colored stockings. She pulled out some sort of device with many straps and metal rings with a small, vaguely pyramidal framework at its zenith. She stood and showed it to me. "Do you know what this is?" she asked.
I shook my head in response. I still had no permission to speak.
She smiled wickedly as she slowly walked over to me. "This," she said, "is a cock cage. The fun begins when you get erect." I looked down at the item in her hands again, suddenly nervous. But then I noticed that my erection was well underway. I met her gaze again.
"Good," she said as if savoring the flavor of the word. She spread the straps of the cage. "The nice part about his particular model is that it doesn't prevent an erection -- just makes it uncomfortable." She wrapped the cool leather straps around my scrotum and the base of my penis and gently drew them snug.
I suppressed a moan of pleasure at her touch, as the straps of the cage pleasantly teased my privates. It wasn't until first touch of the cool metal of the rings along my shaft and the cage around the head of my cock that I felt any discomfort at all. And yet, having her there, the warmth of her body so close and yet untouchable, her complete attention, made my manhood continue its erection despite the increasing confinement of the cage.
"Some slaves find it very pleasurable," she added, "to be caught like this. Teased...tamed...turned on...and completely helpless to stop it." She lightly ran the tips of her gloved fingers over my exposed scrotum for emphasis, and my privates twitched in their prison of leather and metal as I sucked in my breath in surprise. She laughed musically for a moment then planted an all-too-brief kiss upon my cheek before continuing her task.
