Rewired Into Slavery And Submission

How My Girlfriend Broke Me Into Submission.

I always thought I was the one in charge. Confident. Dominant. In control.

That was before Sophia. Before she stripped away my pride, my independence, my very sense of self--until all that remained was a needy, desperate, aching pet, begging at her feet.

She didn't just take my body.

She took my mind.

And she made sure I would never escape.

The Deal That Ruined Me

Sophia was breathtaking--a 5'4" brunette with a sharp mind and cruelly seductive smile. We met in 2020, moved in together a year later, and it all should have been perfect.

Except, in the bedroom, we were opposites.

I had always been dominant, taking what I wanted, using women's bodies for my pleasure.

But Sophia didn't want to be used. She wanted to use me.

I refused. I wasn't a submissive.

Then she caught me sexting another woman.

I begged her to forgive me. I told her I would do anything.

And that was my mistake.

"Anything?" she asked, tilting her head, her lips curling into a dangerous smile.

Her demand was simple--a chastity cage, locked onto me, with her holding the only key.

"Your pleasure belongs to me now," she whispered.

I thought it would be temporary. A punishment. A test.

I was so naïve.

The First Weeks: Breaking the Alpha

At first, I laughed it off. I figured I could handle a few days without cumming.

By the second week, I was begging.

I had never gone more than 48 hours without release. Now, I was aching, throbbing, completely out of control.

Sophia would press her body against mine, whispering filth in my ear, her hands teasing my caged cock, feeling how swollen and desperate I was.

She would grind on me, moan against my lips, let me smell her arousal, feel the heat of her wetness--then pull away.

"Good boys don't get to cum unless they earn it," she purred, sliding her fingers into herself while I watched helplessly.

The worst part?

She forced me to watch her pleasure herself every night--spreading her thighs, moaning my name, letting me taste her climax on my tongue--but never, ever letting me have my own release.

I would wake up panting, grinding against my cage, whimpering her name like a pathetic, needy slut.

And that's when she knew she had me.

The Training Begins

"If you want to cum," she said one night, her voice dripping with amusement, "you have to show me how much you worship me."

She stretched out her perfect feet, wiggling her toes, waiting.

I hesitated--for only a moment.

Then I dropped to my knees, pressing my lips against her soft skin, kissing, licking, sucking, feeling my dignity slip away with every worshipful kiss.

She sighed in pleasure, but then--a cruel chuckle.

"Not good enough."

And just like that, she left me aching and untouched, my cock straining against the cage, denied again.

This became my new reality.

She would let me lick her feet for hours, moaning above me, using my mouth for her pleasure, until I was trembling, dripping, desperate for any relief--only to walk away, leaving me ruined and broken.

Sometimes, she would tie me down, straddle my face, ride my tongue to orgasm after orgasm, gasping my name--while my own pleasure was ignored completely.

Weeks. Months. A year.

And by the time I realized what she had done, it was too late.

The Breaking Point: Pegging & Ultimate Denial

After a year of being locked, my balls swelled painfully, filled with months of denied release. I was so desperate, so broken, I would have done anything just to cum.

Sophia saw my torment and smirked.

"There's one way I'll let you release," she purred.

I looked up at her desperately.

"You need to let me fuck you."

My stomach dropped.

I refused, shaking my head, but she just smiled.

Weeks passed, and my agony worsened. She kept me edged and teased, my prostate aching, my cock throbbing in its cage. I would wake up in cold sweats, grinding against my pillow, a pathetic, ruined mess.

Eventually, I begged.

"Please..." I whispered, on my knees, tears in my eyes.

"Please what?" she asked, tapping the strap-on in her hands.

I swallowed my pride. "Please...fuck me."

She tied me down, spreading my legs, teasing me with the tip, making me squirm and moan in frustration.

Then she pushed inside, and my body betrayed me completely.

The moment she hit my prostate, my whole world exploded in pleasure--but something was wrong.

I was right on the edge, trembling, desperate to cum--but I couldn't.

That's when I realized--she had modified my cage.

A metal rod, inserted into my cock, preventing any orgasm.

"Did you really think I'd let you cum?" she laughed, pounding into me, ruining me completely.

I screamed in frustration, my body quivering, stuck in endless, agonizing arousal--completely broken.

And when she was done, she pressed my face between her thighs, forcing me to lick her to orgasm, moaning at my helpless whimpers.

Three Years Later: Forever Hers

Three years in, my mind is completely broken.

• My cock has shrunk, barely more than a useless little nub locked in steel, but it doesn't matter--I have no use for it anymore.

• I exist for her pleasure, her amusement, her desires.

• I live in permanent, aching arousal, knowing I will never cum again unless she allows it.

And she won't.

One night, I heard her whisper to a friend, "I'll unlock him when his cock is completely useless. When he has nothing left but me."

And I knew then:

I'm hers. Forever.