You kneel there, trembling slightly. You've been edging for hours. Not going over. Never cumming. He wouldn't like that.
You wait for the words to appear on your screen. Finally you see, "Are you there? You'd better not make me wait for you." You snatch up the device, "I'm here, Sir. I'm waiting like you ordered. Husband's gone to bed. I've been edging like you wanted."
"Of course you have," you read. "You'd never disobey me; you practically wet yourself for the chance to follow my orders. You're too well-trained, little pet, to be anything but predictable. Especially when you're this needy. Are you my needy slut, pet?"
"Yes, Sir," you hear yourself say. You bite back the sassy answers that run through your mind, run like rabbits escaping a forest fire. Now you never dare say anything except, "Yes, Sir. I'm just your needy slut, Sir."
He doesn't acknowledge your comment. He has no need to. He simply asks, "You have your gear?"
"Yes, Sir. I have it here, Sir."
"Good. You're so quick to do as you're told. It makes you so wet to obey me, I can practically hear you dripping. You're pathetic. Put in your gag. Then put on your collar. Tight. Last, put on your cuffs."
You scramble to obey, careful to do things in the order he requested. It's not like he can see, you haven't turned on your camera. But to do otherwise is simply unthinkable. You can no longer do anything except obey his commands to the letter. You awkwardly text, "Ready, Sir,"
"Good. Edge for me." He no longer has to bother cautioning you not to cum. You've conditioned yourself to be incapable of having an orgasm without permission. His, or your husband's. And since your online master has come into your life, you never get permission from your husband. Not any more. Only your master can give you release or relief.
You feel your mind slipping unbidden into subspace. Fuzzy. Hard to think. No matter. You don't need to think. You only need to obey. His pleasure is everything. You mean nothing. Your pain gives you your meaning. Your satisfaction.
"Let me see," he orders. Clumsy in the cuffs, you send off pictures of the ball gag, the collar, the leather cuffs clipped together on your wrists. "Good. Good little pet. Keep edging. Not with your hands. Use a dildo, like the slut you are. Oh, I love how needy this is making you. Look at you. You're a mess. But so willing to suffer for me. Admit it. You love being my plaything, don't you?"
