A Gimp at last

Anne-Marie looked beautiful as she looked out of the front bedroom window. The soft light caught her light chocolate skin perfectly, accentuating her beauty. For a few moments I paused and admired her, reminding myself how lucky I was to be with her.

She let the net curtain fall and turned her head to look at me. Her expression was the one I’d seen so many times before, a mix of amusement and confusion. The confusion came from not understanding why I did this, why I enjoyed it and why she enjoyed it too. The amusement was from seeing me as I was. She turned back to look out of the window.

I more than admired her, I worshipped her. As she stood in the warm afternoon light I couldn’t help but let my eyes soak in her beauty: her strong features; the cascade of dark brown hair over her square shoulders; the ample bosom rising and falling; her flat, tight stomach and the sweeping curve of her shapely bottom reaching down to her strong legs. She wore a light blue dress that hugged her figure, exposed her cleavage and fitted her so well until it ended above her knees. The shoes, black high heel patent court shoes, were simple and stunning and the small gold ankle chain exquisite.

“You’re ready then,” she said.

“Yes, Goddess,” I replied. She’d hated “Mistress” when I first surrendered myself to her.

For a moment I wondered why she had told me to dress this way. Our sessions together were usually at the weekend and a few weeks apart. There was of course the build-up, a week or ten days in chastity, together with merciless teasing to prepare me. She’d left me locked up after our time on Saturday and I’d thought little of it. Maybe she was just trying something new on me.

“The gimpboi has returned,” she said mockingly. “I wonder if he ever really goes away.”

It was what she’d called me ever since I’d first come out of the bathroom dressed up. That moment has been terrifying and I’d not thought she’d spend another minute with me, let alone the next twelve years. That outfit, crude as it was, had long gone now and what I wore now was something that she’d slowly pieced together as she came to understand what it meant to own me. Now I knelt before her entirely covered in thin black latex. None of my skin was showing but my eyes through the slits she could zip shut and my cock, which hung from its hole in the suit and was packed away in the black silicone cage.

A click of her fingers and I was at her feet, kissing her shoes in a proud act of worship. She left me there for a minute or so before directing me to return to the bathroom door with no more than a gesture.

“You love me, don’t you gimpboi,” she said more as a statement than a question.

“Yes, Goddess,” I replied. My voice was muffled by the zip covering my mouth.

“You’d do anything for me, won’t you,” she said softly.

“Yes, Goddess,” I said again without hesitation.

She turned from the window once more and looked at me. A moment of doubt crossed her face, then vanished as determination set in.

“Do you remember what you said you’d do on Saturday?”

So many things had been said. My failure to remember immediately brought a hint of anger.

“You said you’d have gay sex if I told you to. Do you remember that?”

I did. My face had been buried in her pussy, eagerly serving her. She’d said so many things, made me promise to do them. This had been one.

“Yes, Goddess,” I told her.

“Well,” she said, “one of the guys at work really fancies you, so I said he could come over and fuck you.”

My heart stopped. I looked at her in horror, trying to work out if she was joking or not. Something told me not.

“Don’t worry, gimpboi, he knows all about how you like to dress up in your latex gimp outfit. I showed him some pictures and he thinks it’s hilarious. Especially the bit with your cock all locked up.”

I tried to protest, only she cut me short.

“What’s that? You thought I got you to dress up to please me? Hell no, I’m going over to my girlfriend’s house for an hour or two.”

She strode across the bedroom floor, bending at the waist as she gripped my jaw and lifted my head up to face her. I caught a glimpse of deep cleavage, only I was too scared to react.

“See I’ve been thinking about this whole D/s relationship dynamic and I think it’s too much about your fantasies. So I’m going to break you out of them. No more what you want and lots more what I want. Got it?”

I nodded as best I could. Opening my jaw was nigh in impossible.

“And we’re going to start with payback for all those times you made me take it in the ass and swallow your cum.”

She went behind me, pulling my arms back and locking the cuffs on my mittens together with the thick brass padlock she always used. Her timing was impeccable as the moment the click reached my ears the doorbell sounded.

“Here he is now,” she whispered in my ear. “I’ll be over at Helen’s having some fun while you, my HUSBAND, gets his ass raped.”

I was left alone as she went through the bedroom door and down the stairs. My mind was racing, full of fear and long forgotten fantasies and foolish confessions.

“Hey, Derek,” I heard her say. “Yeah, he’s upstairs. Can’t say he’s ready for you, but you two have fun.”

As the door closed and heavy footfalls landed on the stairs I was overtaken by fear. Tears streamed down my face inside the mask and my whole body shook. And yet I made no attempt to leave. I made no attempt to call out or beg her not to leave me. I just knelt in the bedroom and waited for my fate to arrive. That part of me that had played the game of being submissive for so long finally came to the fore and told me that if this was what Goddess wanted then it was my duty to make it happen for her.

“Jesus Christ she wasn’t joking,” said a gravely male voice from the door. “This is going to be one hell of an afternoon.”

I calmed my trembling body and took deep breaths. If this was what Goddess wanted I would do it to please her.

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About Razz

I'm a creative dominant type with a love of BDSM and fetishism. This blog is an outlet, so don't take anything you see or read too seriously.

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