I returned home from work somewhat tired, thankful that the weekend had finally begun. As I stepped from the attached garage into the kitchen, I was greeted with the scent of freshly-grilled chicken and the sight of My beautiful young slave kneeling just to the left of the door, looking up at Me with love-filled eyes as she wore only a collar and a smile. As per O/our ritual, I set My things aside and closed and leaned against the door, allowing her to unzip My slacks and withdraw her favorite part of My anatomy. she worked quickly on this particular evening, perhaps because dinner was nearly ready to be served, and in a very short time, she wore a collar, My seed, and a big, big smile.
At last, W/we ate. My sweet wife and slave still wore My seed upon her face and chest and in her hair, but definitely did not mind. However, she did surprise Me by cutting off a small piece of chicken breast, spearing it with a fork, then lifting it to her face to add some additional “sauce” to it before eating the meat. I probably would never have thought of that, but it was definitely sexy.
The conversation meandered across various mundane subjects, from the neighbors’ upcoming Peruvian vacation to the presidential election to a local Girl Scout troop’s fundraiser. W/we chatted about the much-needed new computer I had finally been issued at work (Windows XP at last, but still not a Mac), about the people I had been interviewing during the week to replace Maria and Joanie when they retired at the end of the month. The discussion drifted toward the films being released over the weekend and which W/we may want to go see, to whether Michael Schumacher would win at least fifteen races this year, to My friend in Athens and her upcoming exam schedule as she prepared to put her university life behind her.
The dinner completed, My slave finally announced, “The new toys You ordered finally arrived today, Sir.”
I smiled. I remembered fondly one evening about a week ago when W/we were in the den; she had sat upon My lap as T/together W/we explored several online BDSM specialty stores, searching for the “right” paddle and the “right” nipple clamps to use for her punishments. she had also selected a bondage belt, something W/we had never used before, just so she could be confined in a different manner. While all the items had been paid for using My credit card, I had specifically had them sent in her name, simply as a subtle but pleasant surprise for her once they arrived.
“There was also a new catalogue included in the box, Sir. And there is one item I think You would be particularly intrigued with, Master.”
“Then clear away and wash the dishes, then come join Me in the den, and bring the catalogue. I have a few e-mails to write, particularly to Yui, but I should be finished by the time you come.”
“i can cum, Sir?”
Under the table, I kicked the side of her leg – not hard, but definitely enough to send a message. “Only if you want to sleep on the floor tonight while hogtied, with a leash connecting your collar to the bedpost,” I threatened. The one time she had been punished in that manner, she had not slept all night due to both the odd position and the agony of stiffness accumulating in her muscles.
“Thank You for the clarification, Sir.”
I had just sent off the last of the e-mails when My slave knocked at the open door of the den. I motioned her in, drinking in her wavy waist-length brown hair, her equally-lengthy legs, her quivering breasts, her bluish-green eyes, and her eager smile. Sliding the iBook aside, I slid back My chair, allowing her to sit in My lap and set the catalogue on the heavy oak desk. For several minutes, W/we simply kissed and stroked each other, slowly, gently, romantically, the love flowing freely between U/us as with any recently-married couple. she still wore My seed, now dried and cracking; I knew that, given how much she enjoyed being “marked” in this lascivious way, she would bear My essence until either she showered the next morning or I ordered her to clean it off, whichever came first.
“Your kisses are always so gentle, Master,” she commented softly in My ear as she hugged Me. “You have always seemed to know instinctively just how to touch me.”
“I could definitely say the same of you,” I replied honestly. “However, I think you definitely need to work on your deepthroating ability a bit more.”
she giggled in My ear. “Once i can successfully deepthroat you, Master, does that officially make me Your slut?”
“I already consider you as My slut.”
“Good, Sir!”
After a long hug, she showed Me the various items in the catalogue. Many of them W/we had seen on the company’s Web site, but there were a few new items as well. The one which caught My attention was apparently the same one which had captured her imagination, as she stopped at a specific page and pointed.
“This is the item I think You will like most, Sir. i can see some good possibilities for play with this.”
The item in question was a thin steel cage, designed specifically to confine a single standing person. It was well over six feet tall, nearly two feet wide and roughly one foot deep – just large enough for the average person to stand inside in (relative) comfort. The front of the cage had three lockable doors to allow access to the lower, genital, and upper sections of the captive’s body; a small lockable door at the rear was specifically designed for another of the captive’s openings to be pleasured (or, perhaps, tortured). The cage itself cost nearly $900, with an additional shipping charge of nearly $150 due to its massive weight. Except for the doors and the thin shape, it could easily have been a jail cell.
I was silent for a long time as I considered various possibilities.
“If only W/we had a walk-in refrigerator, Master,” My submissive wife commented. “Then the coolness of the steel would be increased by the coolness of the surrounding air. That would be an interesting sensation, Sir.”
“Okay,” I considered, playing along with her suggested scenario. “Additionally, your body is wrapped tightly with heavy silver chain, the crotch chain holding a steel dildo inside you – the thickest and longest dildo you can handle – with attached leads that I control from outside the cage. Padlocked, unlined metal ankle and wrist cuffs are connected with short chains to the sides of the cage. Heavily-weighted nipple clamps swing with every subtle movement you make. you are also rendered sightless with a thick leather blindfold, with a mechanical penis gag continually thrusting deep into your small mouth. A digital camcorder records everything, and later video and also audio of your cold, shocking experience is posted to several newsgroups on Usenet, or perhaps sold on eBay – certainly, free copies of it would go to Mistress Chantal and Master Clem, given their interests in cell play at The Club. And all you could do is simply endure the ordeal, suffer the shocks, suffer the pain as the nipple clamps pull fiercely on your tender chest each time your body moves involuntarily. I can already see the tears spilling out from underneath the blindfold. I can already hear your grunts and moans and cries and pants and screams. I can already feel the dials beneath My fingers as I control the temperature of the walk-in refrigerator and also the amount of electricity flowing inside your dripping wet core. Even if you were to somehow free yourself of the cuffs, you still could not escape because the four doors of the cell have all been padlocked. And in the background of the camera’s shot, sitting atop a small table are the four keys for the doors, the four keys for the cuffs, and a tall hourglass marking how much time remains in your lengthy ordeal. And who is to say that I may not walk up to the cage and occasionally press a cattle prod against your sweat-covered skin?”
“Yes, Master!” she hugged Me fiercely, and I could feel her wetness spreading across My lap. “That sounds painfully wonderful, Master!”
“W/we don’t have a walk-in refrigerator, unfortunately, but the garage gets cool enough in winter – especially in February – and has enough electric outlets for everything W/we would need. I’m sure Mistress Chantal would let U/us borrow one of the digital camcorders She uses for Her Web site’s videos… and She may even insist upon shooting the footage Herself! The year-end bonuses are based upon company profitability, so if this year’s bonus is large enough, consider the steel cage as your birthday present.”
“Thank You, Master!!!” her appreciation was purely genuine, as was the work ahead for Me to help ensure a continual increase in new clients for the company. she wanted the cage to be confined in it, just as much as I wanted the cage to see her confined in it.
I am sometimes quite amazed by the types of ideas that can be spawned from just a single image in a catalogue…