“Ryan.” I used the voice I considered to be my more nurturing voice. For him and his aftercare, it struck me as the best with the mood he seemed to have for the moment. At first sight, I actually had concerns about his subdrop.
But then he looked up and I reconsidered, smiling thoughtfully. How serene he looked. How peaceful and calm. He made a low sound when his eyes fell on me and I reevaluated my ideas, pacing to him so I could touch his hair again. Touch, it seemed, was incredibly effective for my good boy. He lifted his chin as soon as I did, raising for more of my stroking. “And what does that look mean, good boy? Be honest with Mistress.”
My voice was teasing and it succeeded in pulling a smile from him, but then his eyes turned more serious and timid. “I was thinking that you look wonderful, Mistress.” He paused, blushing, and I realized that my new dating interest was going to give me problems. He was far too cute for his own good and, as Courtney would say, it didn’t help him out with me.
The truth? I enjoyed the feeling of a Dominatrix with her submissive for more reasons than just the sexual. I could keep the control in that relationship when I disliked too much emotion in myself. The hard truth was that the more endeared I felt towards him, the tighter I would hold his submissive leash. It wasn’t a cruelty thing, nothing like that.
It was my own shortcoming, mostly, but also partially due to how aroused it made me to see a man on his knees, degrading himself in emasculating ways for my pleasure.
Naughty boy. Do you want to end up in my chains? You might want to stop flirting so hard with me if you don’t. Otherwise I would work towards seeing those gorgeous wide eyes in that adorable baby face every day, waiting for my next command, towards hearing that soft voice beg me permission to taste his Mistress.
“I was thinking that I adored your dress and boots, but that your jeans fit you well.”
I stared down at my blue jeans, smiling. “You’re too kind, baby.” And for a moment, I hesitated, but then… I don’t know what it was. I think it was how completely he submitted. The atmosphere was intense, so intense that even I, for all my fear of being lost in emotion and how it would make me naturally weaker than a Dom, had trouble trying to work up the willpower to leave the atmosphere with him. When he remained kneeling in such ready subservience and with the knowledge of the cock cage he wore holding him chaste and under my key, I…
I didn’t want to leave that atmosphere for a date. I wanted more emphasis on the domination and submission aspect of our relationship. Right out of the gate. It was unfair to him and I both and I quickly made mental contingency plans to place us both in a date scenario that wouldn’t be so fraught with this.
He shuddered. “I want to tell you more. But I’m worried it will sound incredibly desperate right now.”
I paused and tightened my hand in his hair, feeling energized with the low, sexual growl that escaped him to how rough the motion was. “Naughty boy. Let’s get something clear. Tell me to your heart’s content and if it’s authentic, I’ll enjoy it, little boy toy, just like I’ll enjoy your begging when you think it’s desperate.”
He blinked and his eyes were so very glazed in such a delightful way. You call him naughty. You’re supposed to be behaving, Mistress Sonya. “It’s more than that,” he finally breathed after my prompting. “Mistress, your hair looked sexy and strict with your leather, but it looks just as wonderful with the jeans and shirt you’ve chosen. I admire that.”
Wicked little boy. That balking at drinking your cum is the first thing we’ll get rid of. I’ll train you to enjoy the taste until you’re my slutty little toy for it. Jesus, I had never felt so fucking… dangerous before. It was this sense of carnal possession that didn’t bid well for him.
See, I had always been the caring Domme, the one who dispensed with my fetishes when they were incredibly demanding. I had always been the loving Sonya, the careful one. But with him? I’m not sure I’m explaining well, but he made me want to indulge in all those demands. He even brought a delicate sense of sadism and dark fire in my blood. With how he was driving me, he would be a whimpering little toy, oh yes, and he would be so well trained that he wouldn’t so much as beg when I commanded him to make me orgasm while he wore his cock cage, while he remained chaste when I owned his keys.
Christ, all he did was give you a compliment. “I’m sorry, baby. You caught me a bit off guard.” He grinned in mischief and I felt myself fall to that dark temptation a little more. “Don’t give me that playful, mischievous look,” I said, shaking his hair, but of course that only made him giggle. “Especially not after a compliment so good as that. It’s a dangerous thing to get to a Dominatrix’s heart these ways.” I didn’t want to say the words. I wanted to let him keep taunting me until I broke, until I made him into a little toy slut, until he begged me every morning to kneel and taste me, until he thought of it as worshipping his goddess.
Mmm. Oh, I liked these thoughts far too much.
“Mistress… At the moment, I think your form of dangerous sounds amazing.”
I burst into laughter. “Boy toy, you’re misbehaving. I’m supposed to be giving you after care and bringing us both down to earth. Maybe a session of having your cock and balls flogged would make you reconsider being a little submissive tease to Mistress.”
Because how dare he be such a tease with that flirting mischief.
He paused and gave me a sly smile that only made things all the worse. “Maybe you should try, Mistress.”
I growled down at him. “Wicked fucking thing. No. Bad boy. You want that? You ask for it. Let’s get that clear right now. I do not condone male or female brats and it’s probably the one fucking thing I’m not sexist about. My plan for tonight is to have a date.”
His eyes went wide and it was an indicator to how deep in submission he was, at least for me. I think it struck me that maybe flirting would have been a way for him to find his way back from that magical, oftentimes intense, headspace. Would have been. As it was? He stared up at me with that stricken gaze and then bowed his head and caressed my ankle. “Mistress, I’m sorry. Please, I didn’t mean to harm your date.” He glanced up at me in such a fearful manner that it made me pause in a brief arousal, when it abruptly fascinated me how small I was physically and how submissive he was emotionally.
You’re feeling too much. I turned my thoughts to something more logically inclined again, considering how to go about our date, for instance. I still had to finish making dinner, which would only take twenty minutes or so when I had prepped everything, but something felt wrong about sitting together at my table, when we both seemed trapped in an atmosphere. I really wanted to make him bow at my feet and eat from a dog bowl, but my conscience wouldn’t just let me do that, either. It made me glance at my coffee table thoughtfully, made me think of how to go about having him near while I finished cooking.
He was the one who solidified an idea I had. His eyes followed mine to the coffee table, where my chess board was, and he tentatively asked, “Do you play?”
I smiled down at him. “Yes, as it happens. Would you like to play in here while we eat?”
His eyes lit up in a way that made me smile, with how clearly he would definitely like that. It gave me my answers. “I’ll take that as a rather definitive yes. Stand up and come on, love. I need to finish the food and you can help me.”
There was a thrilling sensation to seeing him stand up, while still so clearly in his submissive headspace, when it forced him to look down at me, even with my boots. There was something so subtle about a guy in submission, at least to me and in certain ways. Like right then. Even if he was bigger than me and he was obviously stronger than me, his eyes went to my feet and he had this cast in his features, of waiting respect. He stroked my hand when I placed it in his, leading him.
Pulling a submissive from their headspace was always something that struck me as such a delicate thing. I had experienced some deeper subspace moments before and the memories stayed with me, so that I always felt like I could never be careful enough. Ryan was a new level of it, as it would turn out. He was so atmospherically trapped that I gave him careful commands in what to do to help me and his own ambience infected me so well that it felt natural to give those kinds of commands, like a dual natured conditioning.
But it was when we sat down at the chess board that I had hopes he might be able to pull out of his subspace. Where it had seemed strange to sit together, it felt rather enjoyable to curl up on the floor at the coffee table together. With chess in the mix, I hoped the logic of the gameplay would give him a different form of thinking.
Remember how I said my relationship with him was nothing but a series of fantastic failures? Just keep that in mind.
The interesting thing about it, though, made itself quickly apparent. I had retreated in forms of logic to get away from my own emotions when I thought I had too many. Ryan… Ryan didn’t let me stay behind my armor. He took the most logical game in the world and he lulled me with it.
At first, it was quiet enough. I went with a queen’s side opening, freed my bishop, moved my knight, positioned my queen. For a moment, we traded turns quietly.
And then I saw a few openings to more freedom. I went with a queenside castling move and Ryan sat up straight, his eyes going wide so that I couldn’t help but grin in delight. See, within a few moves, it was apparent that Ryan enjoyed chess. A smile broke across his face, slowly, and I couldn’t help but feel thrills. “It’s always a joy getting to see someone’s face when they realize they’re playing someone who loves this game as much as they do,” I said.
He broke into happy laughter while I watched my armor start to fall apart. Bad boy. Bad Sonya. Bad both of us.
Damn that baby face. He looked far too delightful with my collar on his throat, especially when he laughed happily after he lost. Okay, logic wasn’t working.
Maybe space would give us both a little more perspective.
Want to take a guess at how that turned out when I’d charmed him with a chess game? Go on. Say the quote about insanity and people who try the same thing over again. I’m daring you.
——–
I made us both take a week, but I gave him a way to open conversation with me as well, with the cock cage and his collar. Before he left me, I gave him the cage and the key to it and told him there was one rule. He could wear it when he liked, however long he liked, but he had to tell me when he decided to take it on or off.
It made me smile, the look of fear he briefly got. That’s it, you’re going to let me know exactly how much you love or hate it. Which was true, but there was a little more to it, too. He was quiet, reserved. During our chess game, for instance, he’d had an air of shy serenity.
I hoped that giving him a command for when to message would open the doorway for his comfort. This logic, as it turned out, worked a little too goddamn well.
He didn’t message me as early as I thought he would after he left me. It was actually sometime in the dead of night that my phone went off and I woke up grinning with the realization that the poor guy tried sleeping with it. And then it made me aroused with the thought of abrupt pain waking him from his sleep, of him giving one of those whimpers that made my blood race in that wicked way. It made me wish I’d been there with him, keeping the keys instead, so that I could stroke his hair back and coo in his ear to let the pain wash over him and do its job until he was a good boy again. I’d kiss his neck in a tease to make it worse and tell him there was nothing he could do about it when I had the key… Jesus, the fantasy had been intense enough that I’d bitten my sheet, stroking my clit in gentle circles so that it amped me up and up, slowly, until my world turned to bliss with the memory of his expression when I pulled his head back with the crop.
The weekend was a series of sporadic messages, but it was the weekdays that got… interesting. He messaged me Monday morning, you see, and I was suddenly energized while I was getting ready to work. Bad boy, you’re being wicked. I had to grin with the thoughts of him wearing it to work, trying these things out, of how I now knew some of the places where he liked to write his erotica, when he liked to feel naughty in his own quiet way. I teased him, taunting that it was his little secret. Of course, there’d been other messages I’d sent him. Wear tight boxers, though.
I started to smile every time I looked at the phone, thinking that he was both messaging me a fair bit… but not quite the times I was expecting or nearly as much as I would have expected.
Even after what we’d talked about and even after the nature our date had taken, though, the messages were timid, ones that always started with “Mistress?” If I’d wanted to go back to some kind of vanilla dating, I should have asked him for conversations where he called me by my name. I’ve always looked back and thought that there was no one to blame but me. The truth was that it wasn’t just the sex, once again.
It warmed my heart, especially when he apologized for seeming too needy every now and again.
Ryan, love, I’m coming dangerously close to keeping you.
Because he was apologizing, respectfully, for the very qualities I adored in him. He would ask my permission with the cock cage, even if I’d already given it. Most of the times he messaged me were close together, where he’d tell me he was taking it off and then, quite quickly, tell me he put it back on, though, something that made me grin every time. And, like most introverts, he was indeed more open in text than in speaking.
I thought about you, Mistress.
That one always made me smile. Oh, yeah? And what made you think of me?
There were a number of things. I was reading a story :P, he would say, or, There was this artwork on one of the new Adventures in the Forgotten Realms cards. And he would send me a picture of the artwork or send me a link to the erotica.
I took the openings to flirt, unable to quite resist when it felt so good and everything he sent was so very flattering. For instance, my answer with the erotica? Be careful, little boy toy, flirting so hard and complimenting a Dominatrix so well. Although, I must clarify that if you ever call me ‘Ma’am,’ I’ll beat you and it won’t be in the good way.
I just laughed out loud at work, Mistress.
That made me grin in my own work office and I had to focus on getting back to my job. The only thing that was keeping me on my tasks, with thoughts of him in the background, was the fact that I was an R&D manager and if I didn’t, a lot of very shy scientists would be without an adequate safeguard between them and other departments.
It was a week later before I finally caved. I thought it was enough time for him to have some space, for him to consider how he felt about the submission aspect of things. I spoke with him about that through that week as well, thinking I could guess a few answers. For instance, I didn’t think I had to wonder if he enjoyed the sexual aspect of submission. I did clarify that we would talk about other options if it wasn’t to his liking, however.
These were light conversations, though. The real one came when I finally did cave and called him.
——–
First, I messaged him and asked him what he was doing. When he said he was at home, I called.
“Mistress?”
His voice was soft, a little shocked, and with a kind of shy fear to it. It made me smile. “Good evening, love. Have a good day?”
He seemed to become a little more confident with the question, as if he was adjusting to the idea that I was calling him instead of messaging him. “Yes, thank you. Did you?”
It had been terrible, actually. My day had started with my opening a supervisor’s door after reading an email and the conversation had started with my standing in front of his desk, boots shoulder width apart, and saying, “Hi, yeah, what the actual fuck is this?” I didn’t mind when emails and notices affected me, but I preferred to not overwork my engineers. It didn’t help that the supervisor in question was a weasel faced motherfucker that bullied the shy, quiet types that worked for me, but couldn’t look in my fucking eyes like a man. I’d been, ah, a bit fiery.
And then I’d felt bad about it, stopping by a liquor store and staring at shelves, wondering which bottle said, I’m sorry I acted like a cunt, even if you’re a twat. I could have been classier about it, though.
Ugh. I kept thinking that one day I would get used to being an outspoken female. But I couldn’t get the voice of my conservative family out of my head and it always gave me problems at times. Sonya, please. Our family doesn’t do confrontation. Don’t draw the attention. Keep your head down, Sonya, and stay proper. Any girl with too many opinions can tell you that we’re generally about as insecure as everyone else, even if we can hide it better.
That day had been one of those rougher days. But I didn’t find it in me to confess that to him. Part of it was because I didn’t share those things with people, when I’d learned that I got enough criticism from people like my family and I would not give them the satisfaction of knowing that they affected my days or moods as well. I would not make sound or complaint about what made my days bad, and I especially could not do so to a submissive man who was trusting me to safely show him kinks and to care for his psyche and wellbeing when he likely had insecurities of his own.
When he left me, I intended for him to be in better shape and with more knowledge than when he had met me. It was fundamentally important to me and burdening him with my feelings or problems felt like something that would be an obstacle to that.
But the other, scarier reason? The sound of his shy, sweet voice had already succeeded in making me forget all of the things that had made me feel so bad. I shoved the emotions he gave me into a mental box labeled, Later. “It was productive, little boy toy, thank you for asking.”
He paused and then softly, in a breathy voice, with just the right amount of fear, answered, “I love it when you call me that.”
I paused, smiling, thinking he must be in a frisky mood to confess that. “I’m glad to hear it when it will be fitting if you decide to keep going down this relationship path with me. That’s what I wanted to talk with you about. But first, have you been a good boy? Be honest, Ryan. Did you message me every time?”
Now he was definitely antsy when he answered. It was delicious, with just a thrilling amount of fear to amp the arousal for both of us. “Yes, Mistress.”
I blinked. His voice was so fearful and respectful that… I believed him. Without doubt or seeing his eyes, I believed him. Before that answer, I had thought, for sure, that he had forgotten to press send, maybe, or been a little too shy and embarrassed about his desire a moment or two. I sat straight in my bed, having dressed in a tiny pair of pink jogging shorts, the kind I would only wear while alone, along with a tighter tank top. “Ryan, you didn’t message me all that often.”
“Forgive me, Mistress. I- I was worried about bothering you if I wasn’t…” His voice shook. “If I wasn’t taking the cage off or putting it on.”
“That wasn’t my point. For future reference, however, I like hearing from you and getting to know you. If you’re bothering me, I will tell you. We’ll get to that in a moment, though, along with a few other things. For now, tell me this. What did you take your cock cage off for?”
He definitely didn’t want to answer that. It made me smile and I imagined the flush that he got with embarrassment, that reddening up his neck. Mmm, it’ll be a joy training that reaction from you, if you decide that you want to be my submissive in full, baby. Perhaps I’d have a few nights with him where I made him describe my pussy to me. A few licks of the crop to his caged cock would teach him to be nice and vulgar about it and his desire in subservience would make sure his arousal tamped down that blush of his.
He managed to make himself answer. “W-when I needed to. I cleaned it in the shower and had to take it off for the bathroom or for sleeping.”
Heat whipped through my blood, a slow building fire for him. I had suspected that a lot of those times would be with things like that. I hadn’t expected all of them to be. It got to me, that level of submissive experimenting and I couldn’t remember what I’d been hoping to demand for the next date.
“I take it you’ve enjoyed your cage, boy toy?”
“Yes!” He made a low moan of a sound after that word. “I love it, but I…” He trailed off, but that low moan of fear and confusion told me enough.
“But it’s frightening to tell that to a Domme when you aren’t sure about desires like that. It’s alright, baby. Would you like me to tell you what it does for my desire, hearing that from you?”
Confusion was overridden quickly by the amount of lust submission gave him. “Yes, please, Mistress.”
“I’ll enjoy telling you. First, when was your last orgasm, Ryan?”
The answer to that was definitely throaty. “At your feet, Mistress.”
Such a good boy he was. My toes curled in my bed sheets with the thought of him denying himself while he played to his heart’s content. Ryan… damn it, the more you get to me like this, the worse I’m going to be. Like right then, with that phone call. Hearing it made me all the more horny off of controlling him so totally, even when it wasn’t directly controlling, and I wanted more. “Do you want me to tell you a little more of what it would be like, serving me, if that’s still what you want?”
“Yes, Mistress.” There was excitement in his words… and torment that was only going to get worse for him.
“I’d love that, but if you decide at any point that you’d rather have a lighter dating atmosphere and separate scene nights, I want you to know that I would love that as well. We’ll talk more fully about it over the next week. For right now, though, let me… reiterate the concept of submitting for you.” He moaned and it was already desperate enough to make me laugh. “Take your clothes off, baby, and lay down in your bed. Tell me when you’re done and there.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
I stroked my pussy over my workout shorts, having gotten so worked up for him, thinking about him locked in his cage even when I’d given him the key to free himself. But my good boy hadn’t taken his freedom from Mistress, had he? He might regret that. I made sure to be nice and loud with the shake of my breath over the phone when rubbing myself. It made me smile when Ryan’s own breathing hitched in response. “Tell me, baby. Even when you were reading those stories you sent me and going through the porn images you told me about, were you wearing your cage then, too?”
“Yes, Mistress. I-” He cut off for a second and then said the rest in a rush. “I love how it feels. I’m laying down.”
I laughed with how quickly he’d done it. “Good boy, but don’t be such a tease. Tell me more, Ryan. I’ve heard that being caged and trying to get hard is uncomfortable.” I teased myself over the fabric of my shorts, feeling wicked and enjoying my own edging. I didn’t want this to be over for either of us just yet. It took a few manipulative strokes of my fingers, but my pussy splayed open beneath the shorts and I moaned with the sensation of petting my core… only not quite. My blood felt like it could boil and I was seeing a hazy world image. It only got better when Ryan whimpered.
“It- it is. Jesus.” That last was breathless, as if he was trying to collect his thoughts. “Yes, Mistress, it is uncomfortable. I don’t like the feeling, but I like that I don’t like it. I like that the cage feels like… It’s like a very strange, controlling hug.”
The wording made me pause my stroking my fingers and it managed to make my chest hurt. I was no stranger to the nuances of a submissive man and how they could sometimes be so very sensitive, how that could make them rather poetic. But I adored that wording from him, when it felt like he enjoyed it for the sense of intimacy, when intimacy was often an underrated joy of kink. Physically, these things were hot as fuck, but there was that other level as well.
The levels of things like trust and honesty that went with something like submission.
“That’s a lovely way to put it, baby.” My voice was soft and he made a low sound of pleasure that was still touched with his suffering for my pleasure. “Still so very shy, though, too. Let’s see if we can help you get rid of some of that. Stroke your cage, Ryan, like you’d stroke your cock and make the sounds for me.”
That made him choke on a gasp. “Mistress, please!”
“How pretty your begging can sound. Do what I said.” That last was in my more evil Dominatrix voice because I knew that level of command would make him hot. And I knew he obeyed when his breaths came shorter, punctuated with soft whimpers. “Good boy. This is about your submission, baby, and how good you can be.” I bit my lower lip, making a whimper of my own when the feeling of control gave me a hot wave of lust. The soft whines of his made me feel like I was drugged with domination and adrenaline. Sometimes female submissives of mine would ask me about these sensations when they were curious and sometimes couldn’t understand while deep in subspace. I would always describe it the same way.
It was like that sensation of being edged, that way your body hummed all over with pleasure. That was what control made me feel like, what it gave me, except multiplied. It was a pleasure that was purely in my mind and not from physical stimuli, which made it all the more powerful. But it was more than that too because even if I wasn’t emotionally involved with a person I dominated, I had an emotional appreciation for them. They gave me their trust and there was always trust involved in some way. They trusted me to fulfill a need sometimes. They trusted me to bring a pornographic fantasy alive.
I was making it clear to Ryan that I was interested in him for a relationship, even if he didn’t want these things, because it was true. I would content myself to nights of chess with his brilliant mind happily.
But he wanted to give me his trust for desires that scared him and that was something that made me admire him a great deal. I appreciated him and these were emotions that, in my mind, were sanctified. They were allowed for me. They were things I could never feel weak over.
If he wanted to go down this road, I was going to give him a whole new definition to the words “good boy” and make him into a pleasure god. The thought of all that training made me work my fingers in the mockery of an “in and out” thrusting motion over my shorts and I was panting with the ecstasy. “Now, let me give you an example of being less shy.” He gasped periodically in between desperate hisses. “Say, ‘The cock cage pulls on my balls, Mistress, but it only makes me think of eating your pussy while I’m not allowed to cum and I love the thought of being used.'”
He barked out a low growl of a sound, followed by an emphatic, “Oh, fuck,” and I laughed, furiously circling my finger around my clit, still over the fabric. “I love your cock cage, Mistress. I love it. I love the thought-” He inhaled and then moaned… and then finished his answer eagerly. “I love the thought of being made to fuck your pussy with toys or using my fingers and my tongue and knowing I pleased you while you keep me caged and collared.”
“Good boy.” I cooed it because he was and his answer was gorgeous with how he both stepped over his comfort zone to obey me, but still softened his words with the emotional tone of a submissive. “Here, let me send you a few pictures and show you how wet you’re making me. Keep stroking yourself while I do it.”
His soft moans from before turned into a sharp cry with that, but he obeyed and I could tell from his sounds that he did. I tugged off my shorts, putting him on speaker so I could take the images for him.
It was a double edged sword as it turned out. I stared down as the front facing camera showed me what I was capturing and shuddered. I’d known I was wet, drenched, but I was a bit of a visual person and it turned out I hadn’t known quite how wet I was. Cum made obscene strands between my fingers when I withdrew them from frantically fucking myself open. I made damn sure to capture that, made sure to get a shot of me spreading myself wide for him too, enjoying the thought of a good boy like him getting to see inside his Mistress.
Jesus, I was close. And the orgasm was going to be wild because of him, because of how wonderful he was, how much trust he gave me, and how much of a good fucking boy he was.
His breath shuddered out in torment when he received the pictures and I smiled, thrilling to the intensity. It was this magic that made me long to have him closer. I entertained an image of him collared and chained to my bed. I’d keep him near for my pleasure, to be able to reach out and stroke his hair to hear that soft sound of contentment he could make, the smallest purr of a breath that he wasn’t aware he made.
“M-Mistress-”
I cut him off, in the gentlest way, pulling my hand away from myself to focus. The pleasure receded only slightly but it was enough for my control. It had taken me practice to learn that balancing beam between being a bold tease for a submissive and not losing control to the desire. There was a line of having white hot fire pulsing along my nerve endings and denying myself in favor of instructing. “Before you keep going, baby, remember. Don’t be shy about it.”
His sounds were going to be what sent me over, those soft crosses between gasps, moans, and the gentlest growls. “I love how swollen your pussy is, Mistress, with how horny and drenched you are.” I moaned happily and his breath caught again. “And how you spread open after fingering yourself. And the sounds you make, Mistress.”
“Good boy. What are you thinking about? Stroke your cock again while you tell me.”
His voice was winded when he finally made himself answer and I’d finally gotten him edged enough to be a little more open. “How badly I wish I could feel you cum while I eat you out, how your pussy would taste spreading wide like that around my tongue.”
Jesus. The orgasm ripped through me with the thought that he hadn’t been imagining his own pleasure in it at all, when his words were pained and honest. I cried out, fingering myself when I didn’t want to hold back anymore with the level of hot sensitivity he’d taken me to with that kind of gorgeous submission. “Good boy.” I gasped it out before the aftershocks had even finished because I had to and he answered with a wounded animal sound. It made me smile a little, with how I had to let my vision readjust. “Good boy. Stop touching your cage, baby.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he whispered, and the sound of it made me smile again. There was a quiet serenity to him, that softness that came from someone resigning themselves to submission in full.
“Lay still and let it happen. I know it hurts.” He moaned one more sound, this defeated, obedient sound that drove me wild. Jesus, the orgasm had been insane, but I wanted his mouth or his cock already. “Just breathe. I’ll teach you a lot of control, baby, but for right now I want you to lay still and enjoy the way your skin tingles.” It fascinated me that he was such a quiet person and, yet, he could express a world in a single exhale of breath. “I owe you an apology, baby.”
“M-mistress?”
It only gave me more pleasure to hear him struggle to change his thought lines to please me. I knew that feeling. It had been one of my favorites, laying still with the fire of being on an edge as a strange pulse in my blood. “I didn’t expect you to take to your cock cage so fast. Do you know that back when I was first figuring out how to dominate, I did a fair few things incorrectly. For instance, I enjoyed being edged, but I didn’t know what it was like to be a guy and I imagined that their being edged must be more painful, that having a male submissive wear a cock cage must mean that teasing him was a form of sadism. And I can’t claim to be a sadist.
“It was another Dominatrix friend who taught me better, very quickly. You see, she wouldn’t let me be too nice.” Courtney had been ruthless about driving the point home. She preferred a touch of sadism in her kinks, but she didn’t have to have it. She’d give it up for whoever she was playing with, to meet their needs. And she hadn’t let me make the mistake of being overly kind. “She already knew something I didn’t, that for a guy submitting, I wasn’t doing them a favor by playing nice.
“I was just being a neglectful asshole if I put them in a cage and didn’t give them attention and encouragement.” Ryan whimpered in my ear and I softened my voice, feeling wicked and loving, feeling like that latter was far more dangerous to him than the former. “Baby, I won’t be neglectful again.”
“Mistress. Mistress, please…”
“Shh. Lay still. I’ll stay on the phone with you. Poor little boy toy. I want you to think about it for a few days. You’re not allowed orgasm and you’re going to behave for me when I tease you like this. After a couple of days, I’m going to call you again but it will be for a different conversation, to ask you, again, how you want our relationship to go.”
He laughed a little weakly in my ear. “Thank you for the time, Mistress.”
And I was forced to chuckle at the wry note there. “Suffering good boys are not in the mindset to make a decision like that.”
He groaned… but I thought I already knew how his answer would turn out. Because there was more a tone of subservient pleasure behind the sound than frustration. Although, well, there was a fair fucking bit of frustration as well.
And still, no matter what he said, I was going to make the next date an actual date, damn it. Even if we were doing this down the path of male submission, I was getting that date.
You’d think I would have stopped trying to plan that shit out by then.
——–
Ryan
She’d been true to her word. My Mistress was careful like that, and concerned. She was loving and patient. Four days later and the day after we had our dating conversation, I ended up leaning against my bedroom wall, staring down at the floor, wearing basketball shorts. The world felt… strange.
The fear I had wasn’t of what I desired anymore. Now that she had started to show me these things, it had changed quite quickly. It wasn’t the desire I should have been afraid of. More specifically, it was just how deep the desire evidently ran in my being.
I wasn’t scared of having it now. I was scared of just how much it would make me submit to, when I’d spent too much time keeping all these things to myself. It was the kind of thing that freaked me out, a little bit, how much I loved hearing her pleasure. It amped me, in a form of satisfaction that was something far more than sex. My body tingled and it was everywhere, down my thighs, across my shoulders, a kind of white heat that made me shudder and shiver at night. It’d been over a week since my last orgasm and I didn’t want to mess this up, not without her, not without pleasing her. Jesus, it was the strangest fucking sensation in my life. It was confusing as hell. If I wore the cage, then it hurt to get hard, but it didn’t negate the pure desire that flooded me.
And I liked the confusion.
I’d found a chain and connected it to my collar, tethering it to my bed, so that when I leaned against the wall and tugged back, it rattled and gently pulled. And the cock cage?
I shuddered, thinking of my conversation with Mistress.
“Baby, tell me how you would like this to go. Do you want sole emphasis on this kind of relationship, a balance, or none of this at all.”
I tried to make myself say something other than truth. Failed. “I want what would please you, Mistress.”
She’d chuckled in my ear, a gentle sound. Where I would exasperate anyone else with my sense of indecision, she had patience. She was… kind of amazing to me. All of those qualities I most hated about myself, all of those things that ticked other people off, were things she loved from me. Not only that, but she gave things outlets in a weird way. Where my craving for approval had once translated, rather appropriately, to clinginess or insecurity, she warped that with an outlet. She didn’t just accept it, you see.
She made it acceptable even for me, which was a true form of magic. She made it fucking hot for me to beg and obey. She made me burn to do it more. Jesus, the night she’d called me had been sweetest hell, of a kind I’d only dreamed about in my wildest fantasies. And she hadn’t even been there with me.
She was something fascinating. Quiet and very elegant in her own way, even if she stood straight in her heeled leather boots. She was small and reserved, until she didn’t want to be, until she wished to own the room she was in. She was delicate… until she decided to let loose that wildfire I had seen in her eyes. The one moment of emotion I had seen from her when I had given her a present had seemed like a precious thing, even if I wasn’t sure why yet. I was infinitely curious about her now and, honestly, I forgive myself for that weakness.
Who wouldn’t be?
But one of the truly wild moments for me wasn’t her dominating, wasn’t what she had shown me about myself and my preferred place in the world of kink and D/s, how heavily bound in submission I wished to be. No, it wasn’t that, as wild as it sounds. It was her chess.
The chess board in my bedroom was set up to display our game and it was currently placed at the move where she’d gotten me. It hadn’t immediately been obvious either, but she had moved her queen at one point to a square that offered it up. For a moment, I had blinked, when she clearly knew more than the average person about chess tactics. But then I’d taken the bait, taken her queen.
Giving up one hell of strategic advantage to her. “Ryan,” she had quietly said at the end of the game, “if I offer you a piece that’s high status with freedom of movement, like the queen? You shouldn’t take it.”
Queen sacrifice. She had taken control with her knights instead, but she had placed a nail in the coffin by reaching a pawn to my side of the board and promoting a new queen.
But the part that floored me was that she had casually played that game with me. When I asked her more about it – and I’d still been affected by subspace so that my admiration made her blush, actually blush – she had smiled and answered, “I’m afraid I only play as a hobby, love. And then I don’t get to play nearly as often as I’d like. I would appreciate dates with you just to have someone to play with, to be honest.”
She had done that game as a casual play with a friend and nothing more, had never so much as truly, seriously played. She watched chess tactics as a hobby and that was it. When I thought about my recent, well played chess tournament?
It made me so happy, but it was more than that. She could casually run circles around a lot of prideful people I could think of and it made me want to giggle with the thought of how infuriating that would be to them, how she would maintain her casual, serene stature.
I exhaled, staring at my leash chain one more time for the pleasure of it. “My good boy,” she had quietly replied on our phone call. “I suppose that is an answer in and of itself. I’ve had to consider how to plan this, when that answer was a possibility from the start, baby. You see, I had to take a step back and be certain my answer was not dictated by selfishness.”
I had swallowed, fearfully, knowing what that meant even then. “Thank you for being so careful,” was what I said though.
There was a smile in her voice. “It comes with the territory, baby. I wouldn’t deserve to dominate you if I wasn’t careful. Here’s my answer. We will go slowly together when you’re obviously afraid. I think you’ll find that this kind of relationship still follows a continuum like vanilla relationships do. I will teach you.
“But I would like to date, as Domme and submissive, with emphasis on that aspect in a light 24/7 style. What I mean is that you are sexually mine, but you will also answer to me for more than just the bedroom, for now. When we go on dates, I will say where and give you commands for each one. For right now, you obey when I command and I will take the lead. Your safewords stay with you for all of it. Once you know more about things you like and things I like, we’ll adjust as we go. If you decide you like more pain than I am capable of giving you, for instance, I can introduce you to someone who can give that to you and keep you company for your comfort.
“For right now, I think you will find that setup a little easier when it takes the stress of decision off of you. I think it will calm you, little boy toy. Does that sound fair?”
I had broken for a moment. “It sounds wonderful, Mistress. Is it… is it normal to feel scared of how deep subspace felt?”
She had spoken to me for an hour, an extremely arousing conversation where she asked me everything under the sun, where she told me she wished to know how I felt about it as well I could describe it to her. She had playfully teased me at the perfect times, to say things like, “Baby, anyone in life should always feel terrified at agreeing to something that involves a cock cage. I know that even if I have a pussy.” And then she would balance it out with the softest words. “Doms don’t take their control lightly.” She spoke with that gentle voice of a sexual teacher and I entertained an image of her in a pencil skirt with those boots, with glasses and a long pointer dowel rod that she’d tap to her fingers like the riding crop.
I’d been throbbing in my cage, that wildfire heat pulsing through my body with my pleasure in the image.
“Come over on Saturday night, Ryan. This time, though, we’re actually having a date.”
I stared at the leash that I’d tethered to myself, shifting on my toes. I didn’t realize what was happening to me, what had already gone wrong with Mistress’ carefully planned out relationship intentions. Sometimes, when I look back on it, it makes me curious. You see, I don’t think there was any part of me that ever would have been her boyfriend.
It would only ever bother me that she had so meticulously planned these beginning moments to leave the possibility open for me to date her in a vanilla, traditional way. She had been almost clinical in mapping the beginning part out and later I would learn she had been wary of even the smallest phrases when I had proven I was very inclined to submission. She would even offer me the options of another Domme if our kinks didn’t line up or if she couldn’t give me something I was curious about, time and again. She approached our relationship with a mindset that was almost glacial in her attempts to leave every possibility open, should I have any other wish.
I didn’t know the word for what I was to her even at that time. Even while staring at the leash I’d clipped to myself, I didn’t know enough to truly realize that I had already ruined her careful attentions.
I never meant to do that.
Although, in hindsight, there were small indicators. My muse, for instant, was riding me wildly hard where she had been silent before. Except now, I had a different problem with her. She wouldn’t write what she was supposed to write for me. She wouldn’t go along with hiding behind my male Dom stories. She wouldn’t content herself with lurid descriptions of romantic female submission. I tried but the writing was missing a key amount of heart, of arousal and intensity. I’d end up deleting notes in frustration until I finally, finally, caved in fearful resignation and wrote what she demanded of me.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle introduces Irene Adler to his Sherlock Holmes series in a story called A Scandal in Bohemia. The opening lines are something I could never replicate in their perfection and what they’ve come to mean to me. “To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex.”
This was the perfect description of Mistress. Although, if Mistress were an opera Prima Donna, like Adler, she would be a soprano, I think, rather than a contralto. And I do not think Mistress would dress as a man, like Adler would. No, she would likely give any man who barred her way due to her gender such a cold stare that he would learn better at a glance. She was small, but she did not let stature stand her way. She wore a strict hairstyle every day I had seen her, such as a braid that was coiled tightly and elegantly.
I wrote for hours and my muse would not be silent once I let her finally sing. Homer had begged the goddesses of story and song to guide as they willed.
I kind of wished mine would stop when the things I wrote about freaked me out. I would write intense fantasies and shift in bed to feel my leash tugged, only to bow to my collar and think of her holding the riding crop under my chin with the slightest hint of ferocity, a kind that only seemed all the more violent for how light and subtle my Mistress’ touch normally was. When I fell asleep with my cage, I kept my collar and leash as well. The keys to my cock cage lay on the bedside table, but they might as well have been back in her hands. After we had decided on that relationship path, Mistress had started the commands in her soft voice.
“I let you have enough freedom with your keys, I think. Keep your cage on until Saturday, little boy toy, with the exceptions of cleaning it for the shower, sleeping, and using the bathroom. Message me each time to tell me what you did and to let me know you were a good boy, are we clear?”
I had grinned. She was using the voice I liked to think of as her strict, unforgiving voice. Do you know something strange about it? I would have felt uncomfortable about that voice with anyone else, but Mistress had shown me these things and they were different than anything I’d dreamed when writing them. I felt like it was an equivalent of her petting my hair, having her speak to me in that commanding voice. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Good boy.” And then her voice had turned husky. “I want you to talk dirty for me until I cum again, baby.” I couldn’t bite back the frightened whimper with what that entailed, but that only made Mistress smile, enough that I could hear it in her voice. “You know how I like to hear you, baby. And I know you’re shy and how hard it can be to say these things for you. I’ll be kind and make it easier for you.” Jesus Christ… “Stroke your cage again since you liked it so well last time, little boy toy, and let me hear you.”
If I’d known enough of what to watch, of different levels and depths of submission, I might have realized a little of my own devotion with the thoughts I had. Because they were, Yes, Mistress. I love how you sound when you hear me. Because that was the truth. It made my blood burn with the thought that Mistress enjoyed my desire for her and she loved to hear me obey when she made it difficult. It made me want to grin even when my cock was throbbing in my cage.
Because every single time she cooed adoringly that I was her good boy and she would tease me viciously until I learned to hold off orgasm for as long as she required for her pleasure. “You’ll find that being edged and having that feeling of tingling need all over will make you quite attentive while you learn how to eat pussy. I’ll teach you exactly how Mistress enjoys your tongue and let you enjoy the taste for as long as you like while you’re burning for release, baby.”
By then, I’d long forgotten my shyness. I was hissing through my teeth with how the cage tugged when my cock strained against it, when my body wanted to be hard for her. I’d been heated enough to tell her that, too, when it was easier for me to say things about serving her. Of course I wanted to say other things too. When she sent me more pictures I wanted to tell her, “Your pussy is so wet, Mistress, and I wish I could taste you,” but it felt too much like trying to tease her or trying to take control somehow. Instead, I said, “You’re so rough with your pussy, Mistress, and it makes the lips so swollen.”
She’d laughed in delight in my ear. “Poor baby. Of course if I had a little boy toy here to help me, you wouldn’t be so rough when licking or fingering me, right?”
“No!” But then I’d whimpered and paused. “U-unless you commanded, Mistress, but it would be difficult, if I’m honest.”
Her breath of desire was so close to orgasm and it made me feel a kind of anticipation for it. I couldn’t have release, so I would enjoy the sheer excitement of hers for all it gave me, while I throbbed. I had thought that feeling of heat pulsing through my body would be awful for a while, but I associated it with being her good boy and it made me burn all the more, with all the more ecstasy. “Don’t worry, Ryan, I’ll teach you the softest kinds of rough to use, so servile that it won’t be outside your comfort zone and even when it is, I’ll find ways to make you concentrate.”
Jesus, I didn’t doubt that. I had to close my eyes and breathe just remembering how relentless her teasing could be. I trailed my fingertips down the leash chain, shivering. It turned out that her command to wear the cage had changed other things as well. Before, I had been wearing my cage to work, for instance, and that first day, I’d paused outside the doors, hiding a playful grin, when it made me feel mischievous and wicked to wear it. I hadn’t even been hard, nothing like that. It was merely that same sensation and dirty thrill I got when I wrote my stories or planned them when I was sitting at the coffee shop or forced around other people. It was my private little rebellion, a kind that made the little imp in the back of my head lift a hand to his mouth and say, “hehe”.
But then, after Mistress had commanded it? I’d paused outside the door and had to hide the grin all over again, except this time it was a far more bold kind of wickedness. I hadn’t just been given permission for my private mischief, oh no. I’d been commanded to do it. I’ll show you a new definition of what it means to be a good boy, Ryan.
It’d felt like being on cloud nine. My skin still tingled from being viciously teased and the cage hugged me so gently when I wasn’t being naughty and trying to get hard. I felt like I could purr with the thought of these things making me her good boy. I felt like I could wag an imaginary tail again and suddenly, being around people didn’t seem so awful… at all. It only got better when Mistress messaged me that day.
You gave me evil thoughts, baby.
I’d grinned at the sight, feeling not quite as shy about messaging her, something that seemed like a miracle to me. Evil thoughts, me? I’ve been good, though! Are you sure you mean me?
How bold you’re getting. And she’d added a lot of wicked emojis to make it clear that she highly approved of that so I grinned again. But yes, I’m quite sure. I was thinking of you saying your cage felt like a strange long distance hug. The cage tightened uncomfortably with my sudden arousal and that ever present tingling of desire abruptly intensified across my flesh, burning electric need dancing up my arms and down my thighs. I thought of the pictures of her perfect pussy from the night before and my toes curled. It made me think of visiting you at work where no one could see and squeezing your cock over your clothes. It amazed me still, how delightful that fire felt when she had control over it. Of kissing your neck and telling you I can’t wait to get to play again, baby, and I’m going to enjoy every second of humiliating you.
Since I can’t do that, I thought I’d say that I hope your day goes well, little boy toy.
I’d messaged back with her favorite good boy manners, telling her how kind and considerate she was to flirt and tease, how I couldn’t stop looking at her pictures, and of course, I had a smile when I let her know how badly I ached.
She’d had to make me stop flirting with her and she was so very kind and playful about her command, so that I didn’t feel guilty about having overstepped. She thought of all of those things.
Standing beside my bed, even so, I didn’t really know what path I had started down. But Mistress was correct. Kinky relationships, as it turned out, followed a continuum, like most relationships and they evolved in their intensity as a couple decided what dynamic they had, in the same way anyone might work out routines with anyone else, in the same way any guy might fall into the habit of helping his girlfriend fold the clothes at 7 on Tuesday, while they talk about their plans for the week.
The problem with our continuum was the mindset with which I started with her and how that level of mindset would evolve. Experienced Mistress and shy, inexperience submissive. I was clay in her hands.
I couldn’t really find my way back to the fear of that either. I was having way too much joy in the thoughts of pleasing her, in this tingling desire all over my body. It made me ache and crave, but I’d spent a fair few years writing arousing stories in public when I couldn’t do anything about it and using that fact as my own private form of social acceptance. Being edged wasn’t a new sensation, but being edged in this amount was.
I unclipped my leash from my bed and got my phone, leaving to go to the coffee shop when thinking about writing seemed like a good idea, when my cage was a caress around me, like being touched by her from a distance. It felt even more so like that now that she had decided to take over the rules and it made me grin with thoughts of my leash being held tighter.
——–
Standing outside of her door on Saturday, though, my heart raced in a good way. She had promised to up the ante and her flirting and teasing had turned both more playful and wicked after she’d decided the direction of my relationship with her. After I had decided that she should be the judge, that is. Somehow, it was even better, the thought that she wanted an actual date. I felt a strange moment of incredulity when I realized I wasn’t nervous of that thought with her.
There was one problem. I was still trying to shake off a rough day at work. It was one of those days where it wouldn’t quite leave me be, one of the ones that frustrated me when it stayed with me way too fucking long.
She opened the door again before I could knock and I grinned sheepishly while she gave me a wry smile. “I think we’ve been here before, love. This exact scene, in fact, with different outfits.” She nodded playfully to the gift I held and my sheepish grin widened.
Once upon a time, I’d hated buying girls gifts. I’d want to choose something they’d love and only overthink it until I ended up with something generic. And then there was the fact that I hated receiving gifts when it felt like a social contract that I didn’t want to be in. If someone bought me a gift for my birthday, for instance, then I would have to find something of equal value for theirs and put the time into it and Jesus, it was mentally exhausting. Yes, I know it’s fucking ridiculous, but I can’t seem to stop it every damned time.
With Mistress? It had turned into a game, of a kind that distracted me from all of that. See, after I had seen that one moment of her, where her smile was something real and open, something much less reserved, I was intent on trying to see that from her again.
“This wasn’t for anything. It’s just funny.”
“Oh, lord, of course it is. Come in first if you want me to open it. Be brave for Mistress, you can do it.” I wasn’t saying no when she took my free hand and tugged me, her hair strictly tied back in another braid, although this one made me consider my Mord-Sith fantasies from reading Terry Goodkind’s series. She took the gift bag in the doorway and I waited for this one, feeling proud of it. Mistress opened it, staring down with a small smile at the jewelry box, and at first that smile was calm still.
But then she froze when she opened it and I grinned at the sterling silver necklace, one that had a queen chess piece pendant ornately shaped. “You said that your favorite wins were ones done with a queen sacrifice when it was such a beautiful game to play. So it made me think that maybe if you had a necklace of one, they wouldn’t be so offended about you thinking them the perfect sacrifice.”
She bit her lip for a moment, but I was already covering my mouth politely because her eyes were crinkling even while she tried to maintain her composure. My Mistress was proud, I was learning, very proud and she wouldn’t buy things like stuffed animals or playful little trinkets for herself. I think in her eyes it would have revealed too much of herself when she felt safest at a distance from people. At least, it was my working theory after some of the things she would say while we flirted. It seemed as if she would reach a certain level of emotion and it would make her uncertain, so she would seek clarity and comfort in cold logic. I wasn’t entirely sure about the nature of all of it, not having much to go off of, but I was highly sensitive to her nuances after she’d shown me my first levels of submission.
It felt like another happy victory when she lost her struggle and laughed, a pure sound. I never wanted her to think I was laughing at her or trying to have control over her when I respected her desire for logic if it made her feel calm.
But I enjoyed seeing her laughter in that way and hoped that it might make her happy to be given an excuse for the freedom to do it.
“Oh, Ryan.” Her eyes were glinting with something both pleased and somewhat evil, in a way that made me both thrilled and afraid of what she might subject me to. I arched a little when she reached up and clasped a hand in my hair, hot desire quick to rise and crackle over my skin when I had been so well teased. It was humiliating how I couldn’t keep from a low kind of moan as soon as she gave me that action. “How many times do I have to warn you, little boy toy, to stop being so charming and cute to a Dominatrix?”
I couldn’t help but clasp her wrist… closer, for more of that delicious pain. “I’m trying to feel properly chastised, but the truth is it was a bad day and seeing your approval is somehow the only thing so far that’s made it better, with the thought that I could please someone. I meant it when I said I want this to go how you would like it to.”
She let go of my hair to stroke that hand through it, then traced her fingertips down and around, across my cheeks. My lips parted before I could think of how to react and it made me shiver, how I couldn’t control any reaction for the moment. That body tingling intensified in her presence, as if I’d been drugged. “I underestimated how dangerous you are, little boy toy. My plan was to have a date tonight and talk about showing you submission in a variety of ways. My plan was to be kind to you. But the look you’re giving me is making me not want to go through with any of that. What is it about stressed out submissives?” Her eyes were so gentle.
“We’re like riled up puppies and need petting.” Her words made me thrill with what they implied for my night, when she might decide to be rough with me instead.
Excitement must have shown profusely across my expression, even though I tried to hide it because Mistress chuckled and traced my lips. “Foolish thing. You might regret this, when I had bloody intentions because I’m going to make you pay for it by amusing me. What are your safewords, Ryan?”
Every word and every threat was only making me all the more excited. It felt like succeeding in earning a challenge of some kind. Mistress was going to indulge in her own desire and she wasn’t going to make it easy for me. I was learning, from my days of being commanded to chastity while she teased and while I had my own keys in my possession, that it felt deeply satisfying to succeed in obedience when it was so damned difficult, when my cock throbbed in pulsing waves against the cage and my balls felt tight with the way the bars would tug.
And then there was the sound of her orgasms when she made me talk so filthy to her. I’d always been the self conscious type when it came to dirty talk. Hearing her cum three times while she listened to me tell her how I was dying to taste her pussy felt pretty goddamned good.
“Red and yellow, Mistress.”
“Good boy. For a lot of this, you won’t be able to say those, however, so I’ll give you a new way to let me know it’s too much. I mean it, too, baby. If the humiliation is too far outside of what you’re okay with, I want you to tap, Ryan, understood? We will talk about it together. Don’t try to take something you can’t, yes?”
I was stuck on the word “humiliation” when she’d specifically mentioned that one and it made my voice hoarse. “Yes, Mistress”. Later, after I had more experience, I would recognize the scene as something indicative of where my relationship with her was headed and what the nature of it would become. I agreed to that with every intention of obeying her new safeword, when I never wanted to make Mistress uncomfortable.
“Good boy. Thank you. It’s reassuring to a top to know that you’ll communicate, baby. Before we get started though.” She pulled away and removed the jewelry box from the gift bag before neatly folding the bag and setting it on her entry table. It was another thing I was starting to piece together about Mistress. She was neat about everything, every bit as neat and immaculate as her clothing suggested about her at first glance. “Good boys have good manners, especially when they waylay my date… again. Why don’t you do the honors, little boy toy, and fix my pretty new necklace?”
Oh, I liked the thought of serving her like this, too. I suddenly realized a new kink with the thought of being on a date with her. Full disclaimer? I was always nervous about dates, a side effect of being a high anxiety person. When did you hold a door open for a girl? Sometimes they didn’t even like it when you held the door open for them and then there was all the chivalry ideas and how they had always felt so romantic to me.
It was arousing to hear her command it so easily, to feel obedient, especially while wearing her collar and cage and… God, I couldn’t tell how much of these things were part of that hot, consuming need for my Mistress. My cock wasn’t even trying to get hard yet, but my pulse was already pounding in my ears. It made me burn all the harder with the realization that the sizzle across my skin was already disconnected with how I normally noticed my arousal.
She smiled wickedly, watching me with a kind of calculating gaze while I took the necklace from its casing and I swallowed when she turned. She’d chosen another of her black dresses, but this one was strapless. Her boots were leather again and the way she stood so straight and with such confidence made me crave her.
It was a form of pleasure in itself to obediently fix the necklace around her throat, to get to study the graceful curve of her neck. Sonya. The name of a goddess. I gently trailed her shoulder blades, enjoying how soft she was and fixing the necklace just right for her. “Good boy.” The cage was starting to hurt. “I like the thought of you serving me before a date in these small ways, baby, but those will have a different routine. Since I’m getting ready to use you as my little pleasure slut instead, place your hands on my waist and kiss my neck, Ryan. It’s a sensation I rather like.”
The cage definitely hurt and I had the brief thought that it thrilled me to think of her training me to be a slut for her pleasure instead of my own. This was a form of eroticism I hadn’t even written into my stories because I hadn’t even thought of how erotic it could be to obey these kinds of things. It damn well was, though. I placed my hands where she guided me, feeling a shiver at how small she was, at how horny that fact made me when she controlled my cock and the rest of me along with it. It only got better when I lowered my head and she tilted for me to pleasure her, when it was an action that so many people had done in bed, but this mundane thing had become hotter than hell. My balls felt painfully heavy when the cage was tugged with my hardening, when I caressed her neck with my tongue, the most delicate lick.
She lifted in my arms, her pleasure my drug. “Good boy. Mm, no marks, understood? My plaything doesn’t get to leave marks on his Mistress. No sucking, no biting. Scrape your teeth across that exact spot for me, however.” She purred when I obeyed that with no small amount of fear, tenderly drawing my teeth off of that erogenous curve. Mistress made me hot with how she lifted and let me hear her pleased approval in a cooing voice. “Good boy, baby. How respectful you are. That’s enough. You’ve made me too excited to have my fun with you. Look at me, Ryan.” She turned and I released her, bowing my head, as soon as she commanded that. Her collar felt tight around my throat, far tighter than it had at work when I’d worn it under my clothes, hiding it with jackets. “Since I’m going to be training you to my liking instead, I’m going to start with a warning. This is going to feel like torment for you, baby.” I moaned before I could cut it off, lifting my eyes to hers and shifting with the sight of her silky smile. “Don’t worry. If you behave, you’ll receive satisfaction tonight. But when I start to tease you, I want you to comfort yourself by thinking of my pleasure. Just like on the phone and with how much it aroused me to hear you obey me. That’s what I want you to think about whenever you feel too close to orgasm when I haven’t said you’re allowed one. Think of how pleased it makes me instead, yes?”
With all the warnings she gave me, her words made me burn in a level of fire I’d have never expected. I knew that I had submissive tendencies before Mistress and knew that I had the level of fantasies that scared me.
I had never guessed the truth and the intense depth of that part of me. But my God, it ran harsh.
——–
She started with cuffing my wrists to her bed frame and then stood back to watch me try out the chain work, smiling slightly when I tugged and then shivered to the sound of the rattling. It was something that made me go still, when I thought I knew what came after being tied down, especially when she’d left my clothes on.
Being teased somehow.
Sonya took a step back after that, though, and I shifted when she tugged off her strapless dress and stood in a thong and matching, lacy black bra. With as small statured as she was, it did something wild for me to see her curves and how fit she was. She was just basically beautiful in a way that had a lot to do with that confidence, but quite a bit to do with the thick braid of her dark hair, too. Everything from her appearance to how she wore it did something for me. When she turned around, my eyes trailed down over the gentle curve of her ass and the way she stood in those heels?
The woman. My Irene Adler. Sonya, the goddess.
I moaned when she turned back around. “Please. Mistress, I-”
Her eyes were gentle when she came back to me with the double ended cock gag she held. “You can do this, good boy. But first, I told you that you couldn’t safeword so well with what I have in mind.” I glanced at the toy she held again before I refocused on her and she caressed my cheek before she reached up and caught my hand. “Grab the chain for me and yank it three times.” When I obeyed her, it should have made me reassured because she’d used a metal end to make more noise when I yanked it like that against her bed frame. Should have.
It didn’t when I thought about using that safeword, but it had nothing to do with the nature of how this one worked. It had nothing to do with how any of them worked.
I shifted, thinking of how much I loved the cock cage she’d given me, of the leash I’d attached to my own collar. “Good boy. Does that work? I’ll hear it, baby.”
I leaned into her petting when she stroked my hair, wondering vaguely what was happening to me and when it had started getting way out of hand. But I was nodding, too. If I said that “safeword”, I knew she’d hear it. I knew it with how carefully she thought out the slightest details, when I would have missed a lot of those details with anxiety. “Yes, Mistress.”
She kissed my forehead. “How brave you’re being for me. Let’s have some fun. Open up and remember that you think of pleasing me when it feels rough.”
Her eyes were intense when she held my gaze and fitted me with the gag, while I shifted in discomfort with how I suddenly tried to get rock hard with the dark thrills of being this degraded. I wondered what she had been planning for the night and then had the thought that I needed to make it up to her, but also couldn’t fully regret it, when I had the knowledge that this was how she would have me trained. Her eyes were the best part of it, too, and they turned wicked when she had the gag locked tight… when she still held my gaze and fisted the cock in my face, stroking so that I flushed. I tugged against the cuffs and the moaned with that look in her eyes, only to shudder when it came out muffled with the other end of that cock gag filling my mouth.
Christ. I moaned again and Sonya laughed. “Easy, little boy toy. You don’t know what to feel, do you?” That was definitely true and I was trying really hard to not think overly much about what I felt, mostly because I was pretty sure I felt good about this and didn’t want to overthink that when I also didn’t feel good about it. Sonya helped. She licked up the cock gag playfully and I arched on her bed, whimpering with how hard the arousal hurt. “I did warn you that you were going to amuse me.” But her eyes were gentle, too. “And I think this might help you get over your bad day. We’re going to try to make it quite a bit… better.” She trailed her fingers up the cock toy gag, while I was still forced to submission by her cage, and the weeks of teasing made me close eyes and groan.
The arousal felt so damned good pulsing through my blood in these wild waves. She paused her laving the gag to kiss my temple, stroking my hair back so lightly. “When I like my boys in a cock cage, it means they have to learn how to use toys, baby. I have a few favorites. This one and the strap on are at the top of the list.” That thought made me arch again. I couldn’t decide which one was worse actually. On the one hand, the cock gag felt like a humiliating 69, but the strap-on while my own cock was caged? I couldn’t decide if it would be any better to be given the same motion of fucking while being denied sensation.
Can’t you, though?
The truth was my body kind of liked either choice, when both forced me to focus on her pleasure. Mistress smiled down at me in encouragement, watching the expressions. “Good boy. Lay back for me.” I leaned back against her fluffy pillows, shifting in the chains to hear them rattle. Somehow, after the leash I had been using, the sound was another strange form of comfort for me, actually, and I shifted again, realizing why my chains had so much slack. She had to give me space so she could ride my face.
I was losing my mind a little, even if I wasn’t doing anything yet, when she smiled wickedly and crawled to my side and by my head, looking down into my eyes when she did. My hands curled instinctively when my natural inclination was to help her get where she wanted to be, but it only made me hotter when I couldn’t touch her. She stroked my hair back, her talon like nails the gentlest, most perfect claws.
The pleasure was like delirium and she only fed me more of the drug with every sinful word out of her perfect mouth. And I had never fixated on a girl’s mouth overly much before when I was more of an eyes kind of guy, but suddenly I was fixated on every inch of her. I felt like I could pant over the way her lips moved when she spoke. “Just relax and remember that it’s my pleasure, boy toy. You’re right where I want you to be and not going anywhere so let me have my fun, yeah?”
I nodded and she smiled again, lightly touching the cock gag that was fucking with my head something fierce, except I was too zeroed in on her and she suddenly decided she was done letting me process. She straddled my face instead, facing me and sitting up.
But suddenly I was distracted from all that discomfort with the sight she’d given me, when she untied the ribbons of her tiny g-string and let it fall to the side, when I suddenly couldn’t look away from her. Her pussy had looked perfect in pictures.
It looked better than that in real life. She was shaved and smooth in a way that made me moan. I lifted my knees, keeping myself spread wide in a kind of instinct, maybe. The cock cage was something to make me want to thrash, but I held still instead, adoring her.
“Good boy.” It only got better. Looking up at her made me focus on her tits for one moment before I snapped my eyes back down to her pussy. She manipulated the cock toy and I tilted my face to help her, whimpering, breathing in the scent of her hot sex and feeling like a dog. I moaned, loud, when I realized it made me salivate around the cock in my mouth and the sound made Mistress stiffen with her excitement.
It felt like it took an age that was the sweetest hell I’d ever been part of. I wrote erotic BDSM romance and had daydreamed of all the different ways submission might feel, but nothing really braced me for this, for her. She tormented with pure pleasure, with bliss. She used the cock from my mouth to slide along her pussy and I shuddered with her moan of lust when she teased along her core. But she didn’t penetrate herself even then. She teased both of us mercilessly instead, stroking the tip of it along her slit, letting me see how drenched she was when the tip of the black dildo glistened with her cum.
It felt like too much, but that was wonderful, you see, it was fucking amazing. Because when it felt like too much, all I could think of was passing the next moment watching her pussy and making her more and more wet, of seeing her sex become more and more swollen with her pleasure, of hearing another of her heated, satisfied moans… She sank down on my face and I started shaking with the cry she made, with how she said my name. “Ryan, it’s so good.” That’s what she said, but her voice was a sigh and a command all at once and I throbbed harder than ever. “Good boy. I want you to help me, baby.”
Fuck me, I wanted me to help her, too. I sucked the cock toy end in my mouth and shifted my head when she finally reached down to stroke my hair, staring into my eyes. She didn’t let me wonder how to help her for long either. No, she lifted and bounced back down on the toy, while I watched and burned and it was terrifying how automatic it was to shift with her movements, to work my face to fuck her with the only means she’d given me to do so. I felt like her plaything and I loved it. I loved it all the more when she made me bark out a tortured cry with a vicious pull of my hair. Her laugh was low and breathy with her pleasure and I barked out another desperate sound with the touch of those nails of hers, so gentle with her soft scratching.
“That’s it. Work me harder, baby.” I obeyed that, fiendish with the feel of her rocking motion. “God, that’s good, little boy toy and those sounds you make drive me crazy. Of course… I’ll always make sure that it’s not quite as crazy as I’ll make you. See, you want to know what does it for me, baby?” She stroked my cheek and I was losing my mind over the visual of her pussy spread open for the toy strapped to my face, when it was so close, when I had the perfect view.
But it was her words that drove me the most wild. “It’s not about the making someone hurt for me. It’s not about the paddles or the whips or the impact play at all for me. It’s about the control and knowing that you could stop me. At any time, you could. You’re bigger than me and it’d be easy, but you don’t because you let me have the power over both of our pleasure instead. And that’s what makes me the most excited.” I rocked my face forward to fill her better when every time I did made her sigh in bliss, whimpering, tense in my cuffs with a myriad of sensations, each one only heightening the others. “I almost went crazy, thinking of you with your cage, denied when I was so satisfied, especially after the sounds you gave me. Oh, God…”
Her voice turned into a moan when she stroked up to her tits, delicately pinching the nipples there. That was another thing about Sonya that amazed me. She never hid her pleasure, never bothered to. Instead, she let me hear it even while she just as well made it clear that she had control of her pleasure. It was a mixture of her letting me know how good I was doing and her keeping her composure somehow when I felt like a whirlwind of abrasive, frenzied need. Hell, the scent of her alone was enough to make me lift my knees a little higher and it wasn’t to close myself to her.
I cried out again behind the cock gag when her moan was suddenly overly hot, scorching, with her release and I bared my teeth, hissing helplessly, straining against my cuffs, aching and wanting more of that fact, almost as much as I wanted release. “Good boy. That was beautiful, baby. Let’s give you a reward for that.”
My mind was still dazed. It was the thing that had scared me the most about subspace, how peaceful it was once she started and I knew that I’d been used for her pleasure. I lay my head back when she unlocked my cock cage and I was hard in an instant once I was free for it, that burning wildfire desire a flood through me. “Good boy.” The gag was next and she stroked my hair while I shivered, opening my eyes to meet her stare, swallowing when she pulled the gag from my mouth… only to turn it around. “Open up, baby.”
I shuddered. And I opened, trying to think through that mental haze, stunned with how it was so completely, fully suffocating. I couldn’t think past the need to obey, even if all she’d done was deny me and use me. Her cock toy was covered with her cum and I opened wider at her soft coo, whimpering in submission when she made me keep taking more. “You can do this. Suck my cock toy like a good plaything and clean up all that cum for me.” But she wouldn’t give me much of a choice. She kept filling me with the toy even after I choked pathetically.
Until there was no more left. Of course, then she smiled down at me, fucking it back out of my face while I tried to breathe through my nose and gave up trying to think. “Look at you. Such a horny little slut for it that you would suck cock to get more.”
I don’t know how long she made me take it, just like that, still cuffed and needy, getting harder by the second. I only know that by the time she finally pulled the cock toy away, I was more subdued than I’d ever been in my life.
It was the perfect state for her to do what she did next. “Good boy. And such a horny little plaything I have to work with.” I stiffened in a shock of ecstasy, of exquisite fucking bliss when she curled a gentle hand around my cock before she released me and stroked across my balls. I was more goddamned sensitive that I would have thought possible, enough that it made me blind, made me thrash. All that time thrilling to every second of crackling need over my skin and it led to this.
To a place so heavenly I didn’t have the words for it, no matter how many times I’d played with words in my free time. Sonya was laughing over me, my goddess, and my teeth were gritted and I couldn’t focus on anything. I was trapped somewhere in still being a used cock gag holder for her to get off on and a whirlwind of bliss. “Why don’t you cum for me?”
That’s all it took. I went off so hard that it was motherfucking terrifying. The sound that left me was something between those animal growls and those barks of hot need.
I met her eyes when I could hear again, blinking, swallowing. There was something purely devious in her gaze and I’ll be damned if I could think enough to be scared of that fact. She let me breathe for a moment, while I stared at her with a feeling of bone deep satisfaction at having pleased her and been rewarded.
But this was Sonya and I would learn that when I was most replete was when she would have more depravity for me. She pulled away her cock toy and curled against my side. “Good boy toy. You’ve got one more mess to clean up.”
I moaned when she lifted her fingertips to my lips, a shudder chasing up my spine from some fear that was somewhere far away in my being.
I opened my mouth.
And then gently licked up my cum from her fingertips, sucking when she softly commanded, whimpering when I managed to meet her eyes and she was smiling in an ecstasy that let me know I was going to be doing a lot of this. So this is what I taste like. I hated it.
I loved that I hated it more.
——–
Sonya
I discovered a new fetish when Ryan started playing as my submissive for real – I was going to get my date, goddammit – and when we both just stayed in the dynamic. He had already planned on staying the night that time and so, I wasn’t even on a time limit. My logic for that had more so been that I was going to get him off by the end of the night, even if I did want to stay in a date of some kind, because he’d been chaste for a time that made me feel wary and I didn’t want to over press. Of course, then the night went off the rails and I just lost myself in dominating him.
And the new fetish happened afterwards. Because the new fetish was a highly satisfied, happily subjugated toy Ryan. Fucking his face had been a curiosity experiment on my part. When I’d asked him questions about fetishes he had and didn’t have, he had been open about his curiosities in college. Evidently he’d gotten drunk and another guy friend had asked him to try something, only to kiss him. I had smiled at the image of a drunk, unwary Ryan probably not picking up on what the guy was hinting at. He’d known from then that he wasn’t into guys. Sometimes that was all it took.
But I’d been a Domme long enough to know that not being into guys meant the humiliation of certain toy plays with a feminine touch could be all the hotter for it. I knew that because it was something I was into. He’d asked and begged to try what pleased me… and I was glad he had. I kissed his face after he licked his own cum up and went back to fucking the toy in and out of his mouth while he whimpered. “Just let it happen,” I whispered softly, petting him. I didn’t even think he realized it when he leaned into me, straining his cuffs. I kept going until his eyes were glazed, knowing that a guy who was denied for that long was probably a step away from sleepy, intense submission. He shifted when I finally pulled away, smiling in satisfaction when his eyes let me know he was subdued.
He was more subdued that I’d even expected, actually, deep in a subspace that made me smile thoughtfully. I’d known he was submissive, but I think that moment made it clear quite how much submission I was dealing with in him. Whoever ends up with you, love, is luckier than hell and she better fucking realize that if I’m still around. That thought brought up an emotion that I didn’t quite like the ring of and I shoved it into that “later” box along with whatever the others were. “You told me that your first dreams of femdom were from Grease. Want to know what mine were from, baby?”
“Yes, please, Mistress.” I loved how the submission overrode the fear and humiliation he felt. He was just a happy, well behaved good boy for the moment, his hands relaxed in his cuffs.
Oh, but you’ll give me trouble again soon enough and make me quell that, too, mischievous thing. I kind of liked that. “It was Gladiator.” I trailed a finger over his cuffs and their chains.
He froze, smiling bashfully. “Mistress?”
Definitely trouble. “It was just one of the scenes where Russell Crowe was chained.” His eyes were alive with humor. “There was something about the brief image of a man in chains, tugging against them and failing. Like I said before, leashed violence.”
“I’m afraid I’m not very violent, though, Mistress.” He said it playfully even while it was so respectful and adoring.
“Of course not, baby, but you’re a fair bit bigger than me.” I trailed a hand down his chest, smiling at the pleasure the thought gave me. “If we’re honest about it, you could overpower me. Easily.” He was grinning and I touched his nose, then leaned forward and licked across his lips. “You could force me to give you back the keys to your cock cage. You could force me to do anything at all, really. It’d probably be tiresome, though. I’m bratty and mouthy as all hell. But you won’t. You’ll lay still and lick up all the cum I tell you to. You’ll let me fuck your face until you learn how to be a good cocksucker.”
He shifted, dazed arousal glazing his eyes, even if he was out of it for the moment. “Yes, Mistress,” he whispered breathlessly.
I laughed, getting worked up off the sight of him in that state. He was cuter than ever, and playful in this way to make my heart hurt. “See, you can’t give me a look like that. Come here, I’m not done with you.” His grin widened, so that I touched his nose, laughing. I loved it, everything about it, when I released him because he only sat up and shifted… and waited, his eyes on mine in anticipation for how I would command him. He watched me with wide eyes particularly when I sat his cock cage to the side, so that I had to smile. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll put you back once I’ve cleaned it and you.”
And it made my smile widen when his eyes lit up as if I’d comforted him in saying that. He rubbed his wrists a little, in more curiosity than anything, although I watched in concern for a moment before realizing it. “Good little boy toy. Relax and just do what I say. You’ll find this relaxing eventually when I get you used to doing it so often. You’ll find I particularly enjoy having you eat me while you’re caged. For right now, though…” I got a chain leash from my beside drawer and paused at the look in his eyes, thinking I should have just made the bloody leash his reward.
“Mistress!” His voice made me laugh, with how happy it was for the sight of the shining silver leash.
He looked excited in a way that made me think I had more submission on my hands than I still had anticipated. His eyes lit up eagerly when I fixed it to his collar and I scratched his hair in the places I’d learned he liked most. “Good boy. I’ll be nice because I can be very nice to good boys, so you can even keep your hands for this. You can touch Mistress, but I only want your tongue on my pussy, understood? That’s your one rule. I’ll tell you what to do with it and when, but only your tongue.”
“Yes, Mistress.” His eyes had been eager with a faint hint of nerves, the kind that came from a submissive’s fear of falling short in their efforts to give pleasure or to take what they were supposed to. It was one of those qualities that I had noticed across both genders and it was one any Dom got used to reassuring. It displayed in a lot of forms but it came down to the same idea.
Subs wanted to please and if they weren’t given reassurance, guidance, and instruction, they’d get lost. “You can do this. Come here, let me show you.” I tugged his leash, laying back on the bed, and he crawled over me so that I had to smile at how perfectly animal he looked in some ways.
“Yes, Mistress.” He lowered his head when I pressed him and gently, so gently, curled an arm around my thigh in the tenderest caress.
“Such a pleasing plaything you are. Start at my slit and lick me open.” It made me close my eyes and bite my lip when he obeyed, when his tongue delicately laved up my core even while he made these adorable, low sounds of contentment. “Good boy. Work your tongue for me like you’re fucking me with it.” He moaned and I smiled, arching on my bed, holding his leash tight when it turned me on all the hotter.
I kept going with commands, telling him when to lick around my clit, when and how to to suck, then telling him to go back to fucking me with his tongue. “You’ll know a girl is getting closer when her thighs get more tense…” My voice was breathless and oh, he loved that. “When she starts grinding against your tongue more.” I was writhing, in a sinuous dance, to get to more of him. “And then you don’t let up. Keep licking. Tongue fucking again. Oh, fuck…” My thoughts scattered and Ryan was a purring, happy mess of a submissive. He loved everything about this and I definitely did. It made me smile with how good his tongue felt, with how much better it felt when he breathed out happily. “Good boy. That’s it, baby, I’m so close.” I arched, riding his face, tugging on his leash for encouragement and his hands were so very careful still at my thighs, something that made me smile with more arousal. Jesus, sometimes I partially didn’t even want the orgasms he was taking me to, when it almost felt like it would ruin the headspace, the thrills rushing through me at the thought of putting my little plaything back in his cock cage, of keeping him locked.
I came with a cry against his face and he moaned against me, eagerly, so that I smiled with how good it felt knowing that his last orgasm had been a bit, shall we say, intense. He lifted his eyes up to mine when he felt me finish riding out the waves of bliss, while I had the thought of, Thank fuck for being a female. At least we had that multiple orgasm and build thing going for us even if being my cursed bloody gender made me question every last emotion ten times when I feared it was a weakness and couldn’t stand that thought.
Even so, I had a feeling that one day I’d be one of those Dommes that didn’t always want to finish when the power rush felt so damned good on its own. At that time, though, I just smiled in enjoyment and tugged Ryan’s leash, pulling him to meet me for a kiss. “Come here. Let me taste it, baby.”
“Mistress…” He hissed it out greedily and I grinned, lapping at his lips, enjoying him.
It was a night that served to set the real tone, when the first night had been a feel out of a sort, when it hadn’t been my intention to start a fully D/s centered relationship. Now that we had ended up there, however, it came with a kind of security to it, actually. We knew what was happening.
What was more, I think, in hindsight, there was probably only one way the relationship could have gone and worked out between us and that was the D/s way. It’s possible that maybe not, but it took that first night for me to realize the fact that I was far more comfortable around my male submissive than I had ever been around any boyfriend. Ryan kept his head bowed to me, even if I had to take his leather collar off, when I took us both to my bathroom to clean us up. He watched me clean his cage in the shower and got so excited off the thought of having it back that I had to leave the bath to get an icy wash cloth. He moaned and shuddered against my hair while I forced his cock to behave for his cage and I shook my head wryly. “I’m sorry, Mistress, I just love it so much.”
To which I laughed. “I’m glad to hear it, baby. You’ll get to wear it quite often. In the meantime, why don’t you tease Mistress a little.” God, all I was starting to think about was my boy toy in denial. I did not intend for any of that night, but hell, I hadn’t intended for just about anything. Still, I couldn’t make myself regret it, not when I felt okay with the fact that he was making me feel emotion, not when he was okay with me retaking control again and again.
Even so, when I eventually got to lay down with him, I let him out of his cock cage and nestled against his side. It’d been an age since we’d gotten to eat, when I’d made him eat me out again… and again. I stroked his hair while he nuzzled against me and turned to see his shy smile.
And I couldn’t keep from teasing him. “The next time, I’m being serious. We’re going on a date, damn it. I’m meeting you out. Out, as in not where we can fuck.” And he laughed, kissing me when he knew I wasn’t angry, when he sensed he had permission to kiss me.
I did get my date. I did meet him out. It did start with every intention to have a motherfucking date. I feel like the question is probably tiring to hear by now, but I’ll ask it anyway.
Want to know how that went? Take a guess.