I turned and gently lowered myself into the high throne. The leash fell from my hand and I heard the chain clatter as it collided with his bare chest.
My finger clicked, pointing downwards and he shuffled forward, lowering his upper body down so as to reach my Doc Marten. I felt gentle pressure and heard the soft puckering of his lips on leather. For a moment or two I left him there to worship my boot.
“The key,” I said.
He raised himself up and held out his hands, one placed beneath the other. In his palm was a small silver key on a metal ring, glistening where it happened to catch the light. His eyes were fixed on it, his expression one of confusion and hope. Hope that I would take it, confusion about the collision between his fantasies and what they meant.
Gently I picked it up and looked at it, turning it over in my gloved fingers as I inspected it closely. I ignored him looking at me for a second or two, then changed my focus. The moment I did his wide brown eyes lowered and he shuddered. I smiled.
“Do you like the chastity cage I made you buy?” I asked him.
“Yes, Master,” he said so softly I could barely hear him.
“Do you like how it feels?”
My finger twitched, instructing him to go higher on his haunches. I reached down and took hold of the package of black silicone. It was a pastiche of a penis, a small shaft into which his penis was crammed, held against his body by a thick band and with a rod that split his balls apart. Chastity cages had the effect of making a man’s genitals seem small and pathetic, which was the point of course. That thought made my smile wider.
“Do you know why you are here?” I asked him.
“To serve you, Master.”
My urge to slap him across his face for his stupidity was a hard one to resist.
“No. Why are you REALLY here?”
He paused, his cheeks starting to redden as he struggled for a way to lie.
“Because I’ve always wanted to submit to a man, but I’ve never had the courage to do it,” he admitted.
A truth! A rare thing for many submissives who found their way into my chamber. They would lie and bluff and claim how submissive they were and how they’d do anything only to back out the moment things didn’t develop the way their fantasies dictated.
“And who else knows about this desire?”
“My wife, Master. In fact,” he started and then stopped.
“In fact what?” I demanded.
“My wife told me it was OK to see you.”
“Did she?” I challenged.
He paused again.
“She told me to,” he confessed. “She told me to come and visit you.”
“Told you? I think she did more than that! Did she help you find the right Master?”
“She helped me find you, Master,” he said reluctantly.
I let the words hang in the air. He shifted from knee to knee to lessen some of his discomfort.
“Why do you think that was? Why do you think she helped you find a Master to dominate you?”
Not a response I wanted. I reached down and grabbed his chin, pulling his head up until he was looking into my eyes.
“I don’t know!” he protested.
“Yes you do. Why?”
The conflict was writ large on his face. He knew the answer, but he didn’t want to admit it. Why not? Some feeling that he would lose face or in some way demean himself before me? That had already happened and he was realising it quickly.
“I demand things of her,” he blurted out.
Tears were forming in his eyes and in a moment of pity I let him go. He sunk down on his haunches, his head lolling forward.
“I get her to dominate me, Master,” he said. His voice was heavy with shame. “I get her to dress up and parade around while I crawl around and make out like her slave. And she hates it. She really hates it, but I make her do it anyway.”
“So I guess letting me come see you means she doesn’t have to do that stuff and being as you’re a man she won’t feel like I’m cheating on her.”
“With that cage on, no chance!”
He jerked in a way that suggested he’d held down a laugh.
“Well, as of now you are MY slave,” I told him firmly. “You are going to learn to worship and obey me. Do you understand?”
He nodded and quickly said, “Yes, Master.”
“You have to accept that you are now MY property,” I continued. “If I command something of you it will be done, not matter when or where, who you’re with or how degrading or uncomfortable it makes you feel. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” he said a little more loudly. He was becoming more comfortable in his role.
I raised his head again, gently this time. I settled back in the throne looking down at him.
“You also have to accept your wife is completely fine with this. As far as she’s concerned it takes a lot of pressure of her. And now you’re in chastity it takes the pressure of her having to have sex with you as well. In fact, as long as that cage is on you will never have sex with her.”
Slowly I raised my hand and let the key on its ring dangle. I knew what he was thinking, that as soon as he got home he could remove it and carry on with his demands. But then, as the remaining two keys in the set fell his expression changed.
“What?” I mocked. “You thought you had the only key? Why did you think your wife insisted on keeping the other keys in the set?”
His expression changed to fear. It was a fear born from the realisation that he was locked in chastity with no way out.
“Your wife is tired of having sex with you. And now you’re in chastity she’s going to be having affairs with other boys and girls. In fact I know she’s going to become quite the little slut.”
The cage was twitching. I wondered if he had realised what was happening, or if he was just stuck in a fantasy world of being cuckolded by his wife. Was he imagining himself in the spare room listening to his wife being fucked through the wall? Or was he kneeling beside her, looking into her eyes as a bull pounded her?
“Just as well I caged you,” I said. I lifted my foot and gently tapped his dick. Unsurprisingly I suddenly had his full attention. “Is your maggot trying to get hard?”
“Yes, Master,” he said almost with a hint of pride.
I kicked him a little harder. It was enough to bring a grunt out from clenched teeth.
“So if your wife is getting fucked all over town then it just leaves you and me. Do you know what you can expect?”
“Nothing, Master,” he said bravely.
“Oh, you can expect some things,” I told him. “You can expect to be treated harshly. You can expect degrading treatment, humiliating tasks, a lot of pain and extreme verbal abuse.”
Conflict returned to his face. Caught once more between fantasy and reality. It was an expression I enjoyed seeing in new submissives.
“Let’s start with something degrading,” I told him.
Stepping down from the throne I picked up his leash and led him across my chamber. There was a horse by the corner; a thick squared pole supported by legs that had rings positioned on them. As we came close I sensed him preparing to rise up, assuming it was him who was destined to lie across it. Instead I halted him by its side and pressed down on his head until his forehead was pressed against the wooden floor, his hands were stretched out in front of him and his arse was pushed up into the air.
Leaving him there I turned my attention to the narrow cupboard in the opposite corner, kept locked shut with a large brass padlock. I released it and opened it, revealing its single occupant. She was tall and lithe, naked save for the black high heeled shoes on her feet, the black leather cuffs around her wrists and the thin silver loop around her neck from which dangled a pendant with the engraving “#33”. Her face was a teardrop that emerged from a mass of wavy dark brown hair. She wore no make up, although her full lips were bright red and pressed against the yellow of a plastic ball jammed into her mouth.
I unclipped her wrists from the side of the cupboard and helped her step out. Her movements were precise and controlled, designed to show the feminity that I expected from a female submissive. Females were sometimes allowed to walk. Males never were.
Obediently she followed me to the bench. I gestured and she lay on it lengthways, the long beam supporting her torso and stomach. I clipped her wrists and the rings on her shoe’s ankle straps so that she was held down and spread open.
Standing before her I undid the fly on my trousers and exposed my cock. It hung by her face in a semi-erect state, threatening her with what was to come. The moment the gag fell to the floor those beautiful full lips encircled me and started sucking and slurping loudly.
“Do you like Master’s dick?” I asked her.
“Yesh, Mashter,” she said, her mouth still full of me.
I started to pushing harder into her, forcing my way down her throat. She coughed and spluttered.
Beside me, his head so close to my boot, he was motionless. He just knelt on the floor, oblivious to what was happening above him.
“Yesh, Mashter,” she said.
“Beg for it.”
“Deeper,” she begged, refusing to remove me from her mouth. “Pleashe push your cock deeper, Mashter. Pleashe.”
With a hand behind her head I started to push even further into her. She began coughing and choking as I plugged her windpipe.
And there it was. A hint of movement. A subtle twist of the head in an attempt to see what was happening.
“Look,” I told him.
He did. And froze.
His wife naked on the bench. His wife with tears rolling down her eyes. His wife with my dick pushed so deeply down her throat her chin was pressing on my balls. And his face so shocked that I wanted to laugh at him.
“How else did I get those keys?” I snapped at him. “Why else do you think she wanted you to come to ME?”
“But, Diane,” he said angrily.
She moved, but I held her.
“Tongue,” I demanded and her tongue slid along the underside of my dick until she was tickling my balls.
He came out of his position, turning to face her. He thought about rising to his feet, only when I wagged my finger at him he thought better of it.
“But, I don’t understand.”
“What’s there to understand?”
Diane was starting to choke, so I removed myself from her throat. She coughed a couple of times, then tried her best to swallow the phlegm that had built up in her throat.
“I’m his slave,” she told him. “I’ve been his sex slave for a couple of years. I want you to be his slave too. I know it’s what you want.”
Taking advantage of the silence that followed I picked up his leash again and used it to move him. This time I wanted him facing her, still kneeling and facing her.
“But, Diane,” he started to say.
I slapped him. It wasn’t a hard slap, but enough to get his attention.
“Shut up,” I snapped at him. “You don’t say a fucking word unless you’re spoken to. Got it?”
For a moment I thought he was going to challenge me, but then he seemed to think better of it. Instead he sunk down a little, then looked at his wife with tears in his eyes.
From my pocket I took out a condom wrapper, broke it open and rolled the thin rubber sheath down my wet shaft. Throughout my eyes were fixed on him, reading him like a book. The humiliation of his betrayal was fuelling his submissive side. He was trying to understand the emotions that were rushing through him, trying to reconcile half-forgotten fantasies with the scene unfolding before him.
Leaving him in his emotional mess I stepped behind her and positioned myself with the tip of my cock resting against her moist labia. In the mirror I could see her, see her looking at her husband with the same confused expression I’d seen in his eyes. I pressed a little harder.
“Please, Master,” she said clearly, not once taking her eyes off of him, “please fuck my pussy. I want to feel your beautiful cock inside me, Master.”
I pressed harder. She parted, her wet channel welcoming me as I slid inside her. She gasped.
“Thank you, Master,” she said, still looking into his eyes. “Thank you for a wonderful cock, Master.”
And so the ritual began and evolved and grew. I started gently, enough to keep her moist and me hard. Gradually I built up the momentum, working her harder and harder, getting deeper inside her. The bench started moving, taking her closer and then further away from him. All the while she looked at him as her now familiar orgasm grew inside her. A breathless gasping sound that matched my rhythm. The clenching of her teeth and she fought to hold back. Her fight to keep her eyes open as she looked into her husband’s.
“Please, Master,” she started pleading. “Please may I cum, Master? Please let me cum, Master?”
She repeated it over and over, each time more desperate than the last. And my own orgasm was nearing too, spurred on by her pleading and the silence that came from her husband as he watched.
She cried as I took myself out of her. Holding the base of my cock I walked round, pulling the condom off. I could hold myself on the edge for long enough, I was sure of that.
Taking his leash I dragged him behind her. He seemed willing to be led, but when it came to having his face pushed against her waiting pussy he held off.
“Pleasure her,” I told him.
“No,” he said.
I hit him round the back of the head.
He moved forward slowly with all the hesitation of a man who expected his dick to be sucked, but would never go near his wife’s pussy. I pushed hard on the back of his head until he was pressed right against her, his mouth against her lips, his nose pressed into the start of her arse crack.
“Use your tongue on her clit,” I told him.
When she gasped I knew he’d worked it out and left him to it. Returning to her head I was still massaging my dick, managing to keep it hard, managing to hold off on orgasm. Her lips parted as I entered her, her throat welcoming me back. My hand grabbed her head, pulling it out of the way while the other rested on her shoulder to help my balance. Then I fucked her, using her face the same way I’d used her pussy moments before.
I held off for as long as I could.
“Cum,” I told her.
Her whole body shuddered as she came. I watched him closely, smiling when his head pulled back as she squirted. He held back for a moment more before returning to his duties on her pussy.
And then I came. I pulled back enough to empty my load into her mouth.
“Don’t swallow,” I hissed in her ear.
A little unsteady on my feet I grabbed the leash and once more returned him to her head. His mouth and chin were soaking, her juices dribbling down his face and onto his chest like a child who’d yet to earn to eat. I tried not to laugh at him, managing to contain myself to a smirk.
Standing right behind him I pushed him forward until he was under his wife’s head. I reached down and grabbed his forehead and chin, forcing his mouth open as I planted my knee in his back.
“Tongue out,” I told him.
I was a little surprised when he obeyed. He stuck his tongue out as wide as he could.
Pursing her lips together she let a drop of creamy white cum slip out. It hung on her lips for a few moments, teasing and tormenting him before it dropped. It landed on his tongue and quickly dissolved.
There was more to come. She widened her lips and a steady stream of sticky, white and clear mess slide out of her mouth and into his. I felt him moving in my grip, a half hearted attempt at escape mixed with the sheer disgust of what was happening.
The flow lasted for a few seconds and then came to an end. She swallowed whatever was left. I released my grip on him and instinctively he too swallowed.
I let them stay in silence. They looked at one another, both showing their shame. For her at least once the orgasm had released the pent up frustration and reality returned there was always a sense of regret. She would beg me for forgiveness and settle willingly across my lap to be spanked as punishment. Would this part of our ritual be necessary this time, I wondered.
“Release her and get cleaned up,” I told him.
“Yes, Master,” he said.
He came into the kitchen first. He had changed back into the smart jeans and shirt he’d worn. In his hand was a white envelope, which he placed on the table next to the mug of tea I’d made for myself. A momentary lapse saw him make for a chair, only to realise his mistake and settle on his knees by my feet. His hands went behind his back and he lowered his head.
“Thank you, Master,” he said politely.
“Do you understand your place now?” I asked.
The door opened and Diane walked in. She still wore the high black heels, her legs now sheathed in sheer nylons. A tight leather skirt barely covered her modesty and a grey cropped top exposed cleavage I didn’t know she had. Her make-up was bright and attention seeking, the bright red of her lips matching her nail varnish, while her eyes seemed larger. Around her neck she still wore her collar, something I’d not seen her do before. It was the same outfit she had worn this morning when she’d arrived at my door with the keys and the request to be a part of her husband’s submission. After a conversation over coffee the plan to use her humiliation to degrade him had been settled on. I wondered if I would have agreed to it so readily if she’d been dressed more modestly.
“How are you?” I asked. My eyes scanned up and down her body in a clear display of attraction.
“Very well, thank you, Master,” she said cheerfully. “Thank you for fucking me again, Master. And for taking him in hand.”
He shifted at my feet.
“You’re welcome. Do sit down.”
She sat next to me, crossing her legs so that her shoe was close to his face.
“So, what next for you?”
There was a pause as she considered the question.
“It depends on what happens with him, I think,” she replied. She looked down at him and a half smile broke on her lips.
“He should become more obedient,” I assured her. “You just have to remind him if he doesn’t please you he doesn’t come out.”
A slight nodding from her.
“And if I want sex?” she asked.
I held the three keys up on their ring.
“No,” she said. “I don’t want them. You keep them. You own it now.”
“Did you hear that, slave? Your wife has rejected the keys to your cage. Means your cock is mine now!”
He sunk down a little, his shoulders dropping and his head falling forward.
“Well,” I said to her, “if you think you want sex you call me. I’ll tell you whether to come here or send you to a club. Then I’ll decide if you’re going to get fucked on your bed or your fuck buddy’s.”
He let out a soft sigh, almost masked by Diane’s “Thank you, Master.” I reached down, gripping his jaw firmly and pulling his head up.
“Don’t worry, you little prick, you’ll get some action. I’ve a couple of well hung slaves who are going to love breaking your arse in.”
A tear formed in the corner of his eye.
“Only real cock for you from now on,” I told him. “The only time Diane uses her strap-on will be when I tell her to fuck a girl. Understand?”
“Yes, Master,” he said, sobbing slightly.
“Tell me,” I snapped.
“You own my cock now, Master,” he said through his tears. “My wife will have sex with whoever you tell her to and never with me. All I’ll get are real cocks, Master. I’ll be used by other slaves.”
As he looked up at me, his face reddened and his eyes swollen, I felt a moment of pity for him. In less than an hour he’d gone from being a silly man with a fantasy about chastity and cuckoldry to being caged by a man who held his keys and dominated his wife. Clearly it hadn’t dawned on him that his wife had been on a similar journey.
“Who else do I own?” I asked him.
His eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of what he’d been asked. Then he looked at Diane, the beautiful woman he had married and tried to mould into a dominatrix from his fantasies. The beautiful woman who, he had learned, was as submissive and craved humiliation as much as he.
I looked at her and she instinctively rose to her feet, crossing her arms behind her back and lowering her head.
“You own me, Master,” she said softly.
“Remember that,” I told them, releasing my grip on his jaw. He dropped down, struggling for breath. “I own both of you. Whether you are together or apart you are my property. And I can and will command you to obey me at any moment. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” she said quickly.
“Yes, Master,” he said only with a hint of reluctance.
“As for you,” I told him, “you’re the bottom of the pile. You’re my property, but you’re also submissive to her. You’ll obey her like you will me. And she will report on your progress. Understand?”
He nodded and said in a resigned tone of voice, “Yes, Master.”
I wasn’t convinced and made a mental note to set a task for him through Diane later that week.
“Right, the pair of you can go now. I’ll summon you when I need you again.”
Taking care not to snag her nylons, Diane lowered herself down and placed a kiss on each of my boots. Then she backed out of the kitchen, still in her submissive pose. He watched her and then followed suit, crawling backwards on hands and knees. A few moments later I heard the front door close.
In the silence I sat and reflected on what had happened. A wry smile drifted onto my lips as I relived the events that had started that morning with Diane and ended with a married couple swearing themselves into ownership. She might claim to be submissive but there was clearly a sadistic streak in her that would probably become more evident to her over the coming months. Her husband would probably get his wish of having a dominatrix for a wife, albeit one who switched when the mood took her.
“Her husband!” I laughed out loud. She’d never told me his name!
It didn’t matter any more.
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