Yes Katya Pt 03

This, as you have probably guessed by now, was Katya's trick:

If I said the right things, served her the way she wanted me to, and best of all, if I guessed what she wanted without being asked... she gave me what I wanted.

Well, not quite what I wanted, but close. She would let me touch her, massage her. She would kiss me, touch me all over. She'd let me go down on her until she came, over and over. To me, driven to the edge of insanity as I was, my senses heightened, these things became sex.

I couldn't do anything more than that, locked up as I was, but as the weekend progressed a change came over me. As I lay in bed at night, hard against my cage, the fantasies that occupied my mind were no longer about having sex with Katya, as they once had been. Instead, I found myself fantasising about licking her to the most intense orgasm she'd ever had. Or about doing something for her she didn't expect, something far more than she would ever ask for, and seeing her eyes light up.

I'm not stupid: I did psychology 101. It was classical conditioning. She was using my extreme state of arousal and my sexual submissiveness as a carrot. Dangling it in front of me to make me work for her. And the killer part of it was, she didn't even have to let me have it: all she was offering me was a smell of the carrot, a taste. But the carrot itself was never on the table. It was cruel, it was sly, it was... I can't deny it, effective.

And my behaviour changed, too. When we woke up together on Sunday morning, she rolled over and casually asked me what I had planned for the day. And I responded, without thinking: 'I could do all your washing for you. Make breakfast and dinner, like usual. And wash your car?'

'Oh, good,' she said. 'I'm just going out for the afternoon to catch up with some friends, but I'll be back by the time you finish that.'

All I could think about, while she was gone, was how pleased she would be with my work when she returned. I worked hard, did everything I could think of: the house was spotless by the time I was done with it. How would she react, I wondered? Again, my fantasies revolving around how I might be allowed to give her pleasure, to make her cry out the way she did sometimes.

I was still thinking about this when she walked through the front door and found me (still naked) dusting her bookshelf. 'Oh, don't let me stop you,' she said as I turned to greet her. Obediently, I kept going, very conscious of her eyes on me. I knew she was smiling in that smug way of hers, the way that said: yeah, I've got you wrapped all the way around my finger.

Without saying anything else, she left the room for a moment. I kept dusting, determined to be obedient right up until the end of my allotted weekend. I had promised to be her slave, after all, and if I ruined it now and forfeited my reward, I'd never forgive myself.

So I didn't look around when she came back into the room, or when she came to stand directly behind me, both hands curling around my hips and settling on my cage. Her breath was hot in my ear. 'I like what you've become,' she said.

'Do you? And what... what have I become?'

'My slave. Just like you promised. I like that a lot, Dale. I like a man of his word. But do you know what I like even better than that?'

Her right hand moved up to grip my throat. I swallowed. 'What's that?'

Instead of answering, she tilted her hips forward and the strapon she'd been wearing slid into me with surprising ease. Well, maybe not so surprising. I might as well admit that, during the three weeks I'd been locked up and alone I'd experimented with other ways to pleasure myself, with limited success. This, of course, was different.

Very different.

The first time she'd taken me this way, it had been an unfamiliar and to be honest kind of uncomfortable feeling. Don't get me wrong -- I'd enjoyed it -- but my enjoyment had been mental, not physical. The feeling of being controlled and dominated by this insanely hot woman. But this time? I found myself enjoying the sensation. The smooth hardness, filling me, was a new kind of pleasure.

She pushed me against the shelf, the smell of books filling my nostrils and the hard wood pressing against my chest. Katya picked up the pace and I felt a pressure building in me each time she tilted her hips and pushed deeper into me. I didn't know what that pressure was or where it was leading and I didn't care: I wanted more of it.

But a second later she was moaning, her breaths hot and quick in my ear, and I realised she was coming already, taking hold of both of my hips as she'd done the last time. Too soon, she pulled out of me, both of us sweating, my legs shaking.

'Thanks, honey,' she said, swatting my backside. 'I'm gonna take a shower.' Then, as she strode away, she called out over her shoulder: 'Have dinner ready by eight, and don't forget: tonight's the night.'

#

You'd better believe, this close to the promised land, I was on my best behaviour. I took a shower, threw on the jeans and blue collar shirt I knew she liked, and cooked her the best carbonara of my life. We ate together and talked about movies, or something -- I can't remember because every brain cell I possessed could only think of one thing: What was she going to do with me?

As it turned out, I didn't have to wait long to find out. The moment I cleaned the last dish and set it on the rack I turned to see her standing on the threshold of her bedroom, completely naked. I assumed she was going to drag it out longer: have me massage her again, or go down on her, but instead Katya, it seemed, was not interested in any of that.

In less than a minute I was naked once more and tied to the bed in her favourite spread eagle pose, immobilised as before. Then, to my delight, she unlocked my cage and set it to one side. Holding eye contact with me, she lowered her head and ran her tongue along the full length of me, from my inner thigh all the way to my neck. Needless to say, when she reached my mouth and gave my lip a playful bite, I was hard enough to cut diamond.

She settled back, straddling me with one hand firmly on my shaft.

'So,' she said.

'So.' I tried to move, even just an inch, to get some friction, but I was pinned down so tightly, my arms and legs stretched to their limits, that it was impossible. I wasn't about to get even an inch of movement that she didn't give me.

Only then, in that moment of frustration, did I remember our deal, I opened my mouth to say the words that would deliver me from the prison of denial I'd been in for almost a full month now -- Please make me come!

But before I could say the first word, Katya put a finger to my lips, silencing me. 'Wait,' she said. 'Don't be so hasty. I gave you my promise, and I'll stick to it. I will. But first I have something to tell you.'

She was smiling, but her tone was unusually serious. I calmed myself, as much as that was even possible, and gave a nod.

'I went out before to see a long time family friend, Charlotte. She's owned her own personal training business for some time, and she suggested we put in with her friend Ryan for a larger gym with an office where I could do my own nutrition consulting business. She does the workouts, I do the diet, and Ryan would do physiotherapy.'

'I see,' I said lamely, trying and failing to see where this was going.

'I was thinking you could come and work for us, as a receptionist. We'd pay you well, and it would be good experience while you finish your degree. It's a bit further from where you are, but your lease ends soon so there's no reason you couldn't come and live with me...'

Her hand had been moving slowly up and down as she spoke, but it was her words making my head spin. She paused. 'There is something else, though. If you do decide to live with me, you wouldn't be my room mate. I guess you know that, right?'

I locked eyes with her and there was no doubt in my mind what she meant. She told me anyway, to make sure there was no doubt. 'You'd be what you've been this weekend. My slave, my property. Everything you do would be to serve me and please me. I should probably warn you, though, I'd be a little more strict than I have been. A bit more demanding -- but I think you could rise to the challenge.'

I closed my eyes as the tips of her fingers ran down the length of me, causing me to shiver. 'But what about the... the deal?' I said. 'Your promise?'

'Oh, that's right,' she chuckled, as if she'd forgotten. 'Our deal. Well, I'll lay it out for you, shall I? If you ask me to make you come,' she said, with an emphasis on the IF. She settled back, moving her hips and grinding against me. She was wet, and hot. 'Then I'll let you come inside me. I'll untie you, and lie down and let you do whatever you want to me, for as long as you want. You can still work for me if you want, but you won't get to live with me, and your time as my devoted slave will be over. We can still be friends of course -- that won't change.'

She sighed and moved off me, barely seconds before I would have come, causing me to moan involuntarily. Lowering herself, she spoke directly into my ear. 'Or, you can promise to serve me as my permanent, live in slave. Your sole purpose in life to serve and please me.'

'What happens if I choose that one?' I said, my mouth suddenly very dry. I felt her smile.

'Then I put my clothes on, and I put you back in your cage. You'll still come, but it won't be inside me. More likely when that happens, it'll be with me inside of you.'

With those words bouncing around in my mind, she sat up again and went to work on me with both hands, moving painfully slowly, inch by inch, bringing me tantalizingly close to the edge. 'So? What's it gonna be?' she said.

She had tricked me, of course. I should have known it would never be as simple as just asking to come. Except it was, wasn't it? I thought about that for what felt like an eternity: what it would feel like to slide into her, to actually come inside of her, over and over. And I thought about my life after that.

Then I thought over the weekend. How I'd felt going down on her, serving her, pleasing her. And how it had felt with her thrusting into me earlier, one hand on my cage and one around my neck.

'Come on, Dale,' she prompted me, already knowing what my answer would be -- what it had to be. She taunted me, moving her hands faster now. 'Don't you want to fuck me? Don't you want to come inside me, again, and again, all night? All you have to do is ask.'

'N... No.'

'No?' she said, mock surprised. 'You don't want that? Well gee, Dale. Tell me what you do want?'

'I want...' Some part of me sounded a warning, that I was being fooled somehow, that I was being lured into a trap from which there might be no escape. But the rest of me, including the part that throbbed in her warm grip that moment, didn't care if I was trapped. Hoped I was, in fact. So I told her.

'I want to be your slave. I want to work for you, move in with you, be your property. I want my whole purpose in life to be serving and pleasing you.' I looked up into her clear green eyes in that moment, and I know she saw that I meant it. Even though the next few moments were more painful than anything I could put into words.

Katya climbed off me. She put on her clothes. She secured the chastity cage once more and locked it with the key she wore on a gold chain around her neck. She untied me. And she told me to go home. 'You've got a lot of packing to do, don't you?'

'Yes, Katya,' I said.