Under Mistress Marry

---

Part One – The Banana
I was only 12-years-old when the high school girl who lived next door caught me masturbating into a pair of stockings. I thought I was well hidden in the bushes between out two houses, but I didn’t realize that my performance was taking place just below her bedroom window — and I was making noises I didn’t realize.
She used a broom handle to part the top of the bush and looked right down on the most embarrassing scene of my life. She laughed at first while I sputtered around for an excuse. Then she stopped laughing and glared at the nylons I had appropriated as a fantasy aid.
“Why you little creep! Those are mine!”
And of course, they were. I had fished them out of a hamper when my family was over for a barbecue the week prior. The nylons were well-used by now. As I looked up at mary while she fumed at me from her window, I knew I was as good as dead. As soon as she told anybody about her discovery, my family would ground me for life and I wouldn’t be able to show my face anywhere around the neighborhood, or school. Everyone would know I was a pervert. (Funny how the word is misused all the time. I never had thoughts of HURTING anybody or FORCING them to do things they don’t want to do, but still I was pretty sure the pervert label would brand me for life.)
The only words I managed to get out were: “Please don’t tell.”
“What? Why shouldn’t I tell?”
“I . . . I’ll do anything!”
Her expression changed. “Anything?”
“Y-yes. Anything you want.”
“Hmmmm.”
Sometimes, the devil comes out through the eyes. That’s where I saw him then, smiling down at me through Mary’s eyes.
“Okay, you little creep. I’ll keep your secret, IF, you become my slaveboy for the next couple hours.”
I honestly didn’t know what she meant, but I was so relieved that she wouldn’t tell anyone I agreed at once.
“Zip up and get in this house,” she commanded. I jumped to obey.
I was relieved to discover she was alone in the house. It meant there would be no added pressure trying to hide the truth from any adults in proximity.
“I’m supposed to clean my room before my parents come back,” she said. “I hate cleaning my room! So you’re going to do it for me while I direct. Is that clear?”
“Yes. Okay.”
“Come on.”
And she led me to her bedroom. I followed her about five paces behind, admiring the older girl’s figure. She wore cut-off jeans with an oversized white t-shirt. I think Jethro Tull’s logo was on the shirt. I knew there was no bra, because her breasts were too small. She walked on beautiful bare feet.
I had always considered mary very cute. I was surprised to learn later that other guys thought of her as plain. She had rather mousy dark hair, high cheekbones and a slightly upturned, pointed nose like Jodie Foster. And perfect feet.
That, of course, is why I always found her so attractive. Mary didn’t like to walk around in shoes. Stockinged or bare feet were her preferred states, and I often found myself stealing glances at voluptuous, sinuous arches and delicate, white, perfectly-proportional toes. I guess I just never concentrated so much on her face.
She was sixteen, but weighed maybe only twenty pounds more that I did. Not an imposing figure, but that afternoon she possessed complete power over me, and in remembrance, I know now how much she must have enjoyed it.
We arrived at the place she fondly referred to as “the pig sty.” It was not half as bad as my own room. I felt it was going to be a cinch. She lay down comfortably on her bed propped up on pillows and began directing me. I picked up delicious articles of clothing and put them away. I got to poke into every private corner of Mary’s room. I gulped when I realized my hard-on must be visible to her.
She smiled the whole time.
Finally, she ordered me to clean out the stuff under her bed.
That’s where I found the banana. It was pretty black, mushy and disgusting.
“Euwww!”
I picked up the stem warily and dragged it out to the open, keeping my head under the bed. She stood up to inspect the rotted fruit and repeated my comment.
“Euwww is right! Ha! You never know what’s hiding under your bed.”
I was on my back, looking out to the floor of the bedroom from my cavernous position below the box spring. All I could see was the lower part of my body, the banana, and Mary’s toes as she prodded it like it was a dead carcass. Which I guess it was.
I saw her big toe give the thing a poke, and instantly a dark syrup squirted from the seams of the peel. She giggled. So did I.
“Do you see that?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she did it again. I don’t know why, but I giggled again.
“Lift your shirt, slaveboy!”
I froze, unsure of what I had just heard.
“Do as I say, Mr. Panties!”
I slowly hiked up my own t-shirt, exposing my belly to her. At least, from my position, she couldn’t see how red my face was. Then, in sensuous fascination, I saw her pinch the banana step between her toes and carefully lift the fruit off the carpet, and deposit it on by bare stomach.
“Euwww,” she said again.
I just groaned. The oily juices of the fruit dripped into my belly button, bringing gales of cruel laughter from Mary.
“Please, Mary. Move it from there.” The words weren’t very specific, and perhaps that was what she decided to play up in what followed.
She stopped laughing. There was no sound at all for a few seconds. Then: “Okay. I’ll move it.”
She suddenly bent down and with one hand she lifted the waist band of my shorts while with the other she shoved the banana down into my underwear.
“Uugh!” I then realized that in my position part-way under the bed I couldn’t really move very well. I couldn’t reach my pants. Mary’s giggling laughter washed over me as I squirmed. There was something infectious about that laughter, for I found myself unexplainably laughing with her. I didn’t know why, but we were both
having a great time.
“Is it squishy?” I heard her ask. But I was giggling too hard to answer.
“Let’s find out,” she said then.
She started poking at my crotch with her toes. Part of my brain froze. The giggling proceeded on automatic, uncontrolled. Poke poke poke. I felt a cool moisture dripping down my balls. I felt something much warmer stirring inside them.
Then Mary placed the ball of her right foot squarely over the banana and pressed down firmly. A mushy goo flooded my underwear. She started to pump her foot. I felt incredible.
“Ooo,” she said, “I feel two bananas down there now!”
Sure enough, one banana was passing, another was rising, ripening fast!
And she kept pumping. After one pump, I saw her foot come down flat and then felt an enormous pressure begin on my dick. I heard the creaking of the bedsprings and realized Mary was bent over, using her bed for support.
Looking back down to my waist, I saw why she needed the support. Her other foot had come up to join in the fun! Mary stood on my crotch and mashed the banana playfully as she treaded in place for about five minutes.
By the end of that time, the banana was not the only goo in my pants, and we both knew it.
She got off me and ordered me out from under the bed. She sat on the edge of the bed as I made my way out, her feet dangling on either side if my body. When my face cleared the box spring I looked up to see her grinning down at me.
“That’s far enough!” she said. “You’re here to clean, remember?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good! Now clean my feet!”
She placed them both on my face, giving me a good whiff of their mustiness-mixed-with-ripe-banana. Three of her toes found my lips and pried them open, then all the toes followed, one-by-one, into my mouth as I sucked and licked them all spotless. She took her time. One foot then the other. Then she dried the toes against the shirt bunched up on my chest.
“Now the rest.” She made my lick the bottom of her feet. They tasted the most strongly of banana I had to nibble on her left heel a little to peel off one of the fruit strands that had somehow gotten lodged there. When I did this, Mary groaned in pleasure.
“That feels really good! Do it some more.”
I nibbled on both heels, the edges of her feet, and her toes. She loved it.
I, of course, was in heaven.
But finally, much to my disappointment, she removed her feet from my face and told me to get up.
“You’re the one who’s filthy now,” she informed me. “Come with me.”
Part Two — In the Bathtub
(After being trampled by my neighbor in her bedroom – a particularly juicy experience involving a banana — Mary is just starting to warm up to her dominant role…)
She led me to the bathroom and told me to get in the tub. I took off my own shoes, pulled the shower curtains aside, and hopped in. She pulled the curtain closed after me and said, “Now take off your clothes and hand them out to me. I’ll wash them so you don’t have to go home like that.”
She was suddenly being too kind. I didn’t know what she really had in mind, but I didn’t care, either. mary could have told me to dive head-first off the roof of her house and I’d have done it at that point.
She took all my clothes and I asked if I should shower right then.
“No!” She snapped. “Remember, Slaveboy, only I turn the water on and off. Got it?”
“Yes. What do I do?”
“Lie down on the tub.”
“W-what?”
“You heard me. On your back with your head toward the facet! I expect to find you like that when I return.”
“Yes.”
I had to draw up my knees in order to fit in the tub like she wanted me to. My hard-on was coming back, too.
She returned and drew the curtains aside. She had changed into a bikini bathing suit. In her arms she carried some kind of padded board, and in her mouth she had a straw. She inspected my naked body for a while before setting the board across the tub just ahead of where my knees poked out. It fit securely like a seat.
Gingerly, she climbed onto the seat and planted her feet on my chest. Smiling with that straw between her teeth, she bent slowly forward, grabbed the tap, and turned on the water.
She had to play with the temperature a bit. First it was too cold and then it was too hot. My groans guided her. The water did not fall directly on my face. The stream actually parted my hairline. When she felt the water was finally right. She flipped up the lever that set the tub stopper. The water level began to rise.
“You’ll be clean in no time,” she mumbled between gritted teeth.
When the water reached my chest, mary began slapping puddles on me with her feet. Once she reached out and covered my face with her soles, rubbing them gently against my cheeks or kneading my forehead, nose and eyelids with her curling toes.
Then the water began to flow over my face, and I had to strain upwards to keep breathing.
That’s when mary took the straw out of her mouth and put it in mine. Using her feet to control me, she pushed down on my chest so I went under the water.
I breathed through the straw, looking up through the water at mary’s cruel, wide grin. She reached forward again, grabbing the sides of the tub — and stood up.
She laughed, and I believe it was because of the sound that must have come up through the straw. She walked little, tiny steps on my chest while I tried to suck down all the air I could. Then she grew confidence of her balance and bounced up and down on me without handholds. I couldn’t hear anything except the crash of water behind my head, but I could see Mary laughing with delight at every step.
Mary took off the top of her bikini. With great skill, she pulled down the bottoms and stepped out of them, still on my chest. Then she removed the little padded seat and closed the shower curtain.
She kept one foot on me and lifted the other to a small knob behind me. I knew what she was doing, even though I couldn’t see what she was doing with her toes. But I knew those toes were very dexterous!
With her foot, she switched the water flow from the main tap to the shower. It rained down on her as she proceeded scrub herself with a soapy towel.
She didn’t stay on my chest, either. She stepped around freely, walking up and down my stomach, and pausing once or twice to squash my dick against my abdomen. Once she used my knees for a seat and playfully dug her heel (gently) into my balls.
When I came it quickly dissipated in the water, but mary saw. She quickly stood on my dick with her toes curling around the head and pinched again and again, so that I shot another stream right between her toes.
Finally, completely scrubbed (and me completely drained), she shut off the shower and unstopped the tub. She kept one foot on my chest and another on my stomach as the water drained. When the water was gone, I still lay there with the straw ridiculously in my mouth and Mary still standing naked on me.
“Feel better now?” she said.
I spit out the straw.
“Yes!” And I smiled up at her.
“One last thing, then, and we’ll call it even on secrets. Scoot down a little more.”
I did what she said and saw her walk up to straddle my face, her back to the plumbing. “Open your mouth.”
I thought she was going to sit on me and grew excited. My lips parted wide in anticipation.
Mary squatted a little and pissed on me.
It was humiliating. It tasted awful. She kept my down by balancing herself with both feet on my urine-covered face while I choked the pee down. Her laughter echoed in my ears and I thought I would vomit.
Instead, I came. A nice, long time.
I had to take another shower by myself after that and when I finished, Mary, true to her words, handed me my washed and dried clothes. Plus something extra before I left her house. A fresh pair of nylons.
She winked.
“Don’t worry. I wont tell anybody.
To my knowledge, Mary never did tell anyone about the nylons or the banana or the bathtub. I think I still love her for that.

Forced Maid Training Group Humiliation In Femdom Torture Dungeon

---

Forced maid training recipe you are about to see is coming directly from the English Mansion slave training center. What is different compared to any of the previously published sissy training femdom sessions is that under supervision of Mistress Nina Birch, three sissy maids are going to be trained at once.
This is not something anyone could do. It takes the attitude, experience, and top rated femdom skills. Even then, Dominatrix in charge will need help from another Goddess, to maintain everything under control and to ensure good results of this kinky sissy maid training. Actually, what you are about to see is a rare kind of a high quality group humiliation of sissy maid slaves.

Forced maid training session

Before making excellent whores from the bunch of miserable guys, Goddesses wanted to take a photo. It will be used for reference and as a great memory of this special day when pathetic guys are about to become useful sissy slut maids. Every one of them has its own position while Dommes are proudly standing above them, literally emitting female power.

The real question is what maids in training will have to endure and how Mistresses will make them behave in a way they need and want. Luckily, sissy humiliation is conducted in the post possible place and it is one of the main rooms of the world famous English femdom mansion. This means that there is literally everything these women need to make slaves extremely submissive.
The nature of forced feminization is not so violent in nature but doesn’t mean those kinky Mistresses will make it easy for stupid whores maids.

What I am talking about, you will see on the femdom CBT photo below. Tied to the BDSM torture bed, maid slave is subjected to the strong pain created by the electroshocks going through slave’s genitals. The reason for this is that once he feels intensive pain going through his dick, the last thing on his mind will be to get an erection what would be normal when faced with such strict and sexy femdom ladies. 
Simply speaking, Goddesses don’t want any obstacles in the process of slave training and this is basically why this is considered a forced maid training in the first place. This is what every single of solo male slave will have to go through. Experienced Dommes already knows that all men are the same and they are secretly hoping for some kind of rough sex or free sex at least. The first thing to eradicate is their sexual drive. Once it is done, everything becomes much easier and strict sissy training is more like a routine from that point.
You know how they say, the devil is in the details. Just take a look at what kind of femdom torture tools is hanging on these dark walls that witnessed so much agony and humiliation from the moment dungeon was built. But that’s not all. Take a better look at what is below the tied big dick slave. Lol, another guy waiting for his turn in the best possible place where he can see and hear what is about to happen to him too! How smart is that?

Anyway, once sissy sluts are violently relieved from their manhood, it is time to learn how does it feel to be on the other side of a penis. Is there a better way than to order men dressed in very womanly clothes to get on the knees and start sucking big strapon attached to Mistress‘s hips?

Anyway, I can’t ignore the fact that these corsets stuffed house maid bitches in high heels are really perfectly dressed for this occasion. Clearly, a lot of time is spent on making them look like top trending submissive male sluts. Personally, I think that they have small tits bit again, high garters for sluts, nylon stockings and fishnets are making them look like some kind of hardcore porn whores offering exclusive sexual services, or something like that. This is exactly one more of those things done in high quality and exactly what makes this endlessly humiliated session so special. I had a chance to watch the exclusive content full video and I must say that I am impressed. It is probably one of the best videos I’ve ever seen, that is showing genuine forced feminization practice as close to the reality as it is possible to be.

Forced Maid Training

I Own Sissies!

<p><h1>A sissy exposed</h1>
<p>She begged me not to link her blog to this post. In fact, she dribbled out a little more cash in exchange for not doing so.</p>
<p>Needless to say, she admitted having a hard little cockette the whole time we were talking.</p>
<p>Undoubtedly her little cockette will get hard again, as she reads this post, over and over and over again&hellip;</p>
<p>If this post gets 500 notes I&rsquo;ll get her to beg me to link her blog.</p>
<p>Reblog away sissies! Help a sister out.

Domestic Service Opportunities Available

For your chance to mop up your own chastity drool, and clean the rest of my apartment, enquire within.
Please note this is a pay to play position.

Trans Action

It’s quite clear from my inbox that the majority of those who contact me have no idea how many messages I receive. Either that, or more likely, they are just horny and looking for a quick ‘fix’.
The number of messages I get saying ‘Hello’ or ‘Hi’ with some random picture attached is hilarious - as if that approach is going to make me think ‘oh yeah, this one is a keeper I must message back immediately’.
Do they think it makes a good submissive first impression to send a Dominant a message that is so obviously just them getting a cheap thrill?
Let me be clear about it, for those that do read as well as look at pictures… I enjoy playing kinky games. This is fun for me.
I enjoy playing with and mindfucking people. I enjoy putting people in positions that get their hearts racing and other things throbbing. This is not something I am ashamed of - no matter how ashamed you are.
If you have the courage to message me then you really should at least make it something worth paying attention to. I believe there is a lot of fun, and personal growth to be had.
And that brings me on to the wider point of this post and something I haven’t mentioned too much on this blog. Money.
Whenever I mention how I enjoy these games too, invariably I’ll have some ask ‘why do you rape wallets if playing is something you enjoy? My answer to that is simple, I enjoy that too!
Sure the money is nice but I don’t really need it. It’s a power play. I know how hard you’ve worked to earn that money, I work hard too.
I fully understand how submissive an act it is to willingly give your hard earned money to another Man.
Of course, the transaction is also about ascertaining the seriousness of someone who says they want to play - I only have a certain amount of time and let’s face it, there are a lot more of your type than there are of mine. It’s a market economy - time is money and all that.
There are legions of cute young ‘findom’ girls out there that will take your money and tell you how you aren’t even worthy of their time, and for those who are into that, more power to you.
However, if you have got this far reading this…. it’s probably time to admit that you’ll NEVER scratch that itch by submitting to a girl. Don’t you think?
I like to put in the time and get to the root of your fetish. I like to pull it out from you, to wrap your mind in it and use it to control you.
Whether you’re a full blown sissy maid seeking a Master, a secret dresser who can’t tell his wife, a ‘straight’ boy who’s never done this before - or you’re secretly craving being trapped in pantyhose with no chance of escape….. ever…. 😉 I know just how to take advantage of your addiction.
It’s fun for me, and it could be for you too.

REBLOG as ever, my kinky lil sissies. Help make my life more fun!

And not a single sissy will follow instructions.
But they will spam your inbox with images you didn’t ask for.
Pathetic.

Distractions
Petra tried to focus on the simple task, cleaning and drying the mugs, and push from her mind Mistress’ inspection. Mistress was always thorough when checking on her chores, but today it seemed to be taking an especially long time.
She could hear Mistress’ heels as she examined the bathroom above. Even her steps felt efficient and precise on the floor tiles. Petra remembered how long she had spent on her knees scrubbing and polishing those tiles, making sure all the hard to reach places were spotless.
Was that a disappointed sigh? Petra so hoped this inspection would be flawless. Her little pink punishment book already contained a litany of failings, which would no doubt leave Friday evening’s assessment a painful affair. Petra jumped as the bathroom door slammed in anger and watched in horror as Mistress’ favourite the mug slipped from her grasp and headed towards the kitchen floor.
Photo exclusively provided by the gorgeous Maid Petra

Want to be owned by me?

I have places open for two submissive maids looking to be fully trained to serve.
These places are only for maids willing and able to pay towards their training. Think of it like Maid University.
Training will focus on 4 main areas - dressing, deportment, attitude and sexual servitude.
Maids who successfully pass training will be expected to serve both at my leisure, and at the parties of several Mistresses I am friends with. That means you MUST be bisexual if you are to be able to pass training.
Applicants MUST be between 18-40 years of age, be based in the UK and able to serve at least one night per month.
Apply by submitting information about yourself, name age, location etc along with a photograph of how you look dressed. I am picky so look your best!
Offer open to everyone even if you have never been a maid before. You will be trained.
You will be expected to dress fully and to appear smooth shaved. If you are unable to then this is not the role for you. If you are only able to ‘appear’ smooth then you will need to explain why to be considered.
Let me repeat…
IF you want to apply for one of these roles then you will be REQUIRED to pay towards your training. There will also be uniforms and various accessories to buy too.
Apply by submitting here. I will only reply to those I am interested in and you will be required to pay a tribute before ANY training will begin.
Finally, I am very real and this training opportunity is very real. I am friendly and understanding but do NOT mistake this for not being 100% in charge. I have already trained several maids so anyone thinking they can be deceptive, don’t even waste your time.
Thanks.

Kaninchen in Bondage systematic slavery

Kaninchen in Bondage [maledom, discipline, training.]

---

The interview

K wasn’t sure what to wear; she was distracted, and less certain of herself than usual. This wasn’t unexpected, she’d been thinking about this evening for two months now. She tried to focus again on her clothes, picking up her silken black suspenders, her tightly fitting corset and figure-hugging black dress.

 Was she really going to wear this to an interview? Leaving the clothes on her bed, she sat down by her vanity and toweled her hair dry. Her golden hair shimmered in the sunbeams as she tamed it.

She smiled as she combed it, she’d always been so proud of her hair, and with good reason, as she’d been complimented on it as long as she could remember. Her golden skin offset her sky blue eyes. She was beautiful. Lost in her reverie, she glimpsed her bed through the mirrors eye. She frowned as the memory of two months ago came flooding back…

She’d been so excited; it had been her first interview for work since finishing her Master’s In Education from the prestigious University of Mainz. But not only that, it was for the sister college of Kolleg St. Blasien, the premier Gymnasium in the Upper Rhine region! She’d known she only had a little experience, but she’d worked and studied so hard, and for so long; finally, it was her chance to impress! She’d dressed impeccably, she’d thought at the time, in a light blue suit, high collared shirt and her hair tied back.

 Looking back she wondered if she’d sensed the slightly off-key atmosphere on arrival. Or was it a false memory, caused by the evening? For a start, there was the time, who had heard of an interview at eight in the evening? Yet she’d arrived promptly, ten minutes ahead of time. She’d look at the gothic knocker on the high black door for a moment before announcing herself. She’d been greeted by a friendly man, with a jovial, red face. He’d led her up three flights of red-carpeted stairs and into an ornate study…

Sitting at a large desk was a woman in a white dress. While the red-faced man had taken his seat beside her, K had taken a minute to study her interviewer. She was pale, with flowing black hair, and a look of concentration on her face as coolly regarded K. “Sit down”, she’d instructed, and K obeyed instinctively. She took her position on the small wooden chair across from them. She’d smiled at them, hoping to quell her nerves. It was returned by the red-faced man, who beamed at her; but not by the woman in white, who merely said, “Let us begin”.

Two intense hours of questions and answers followed. Whenever the man relaxed her with a joke or a supportive word, the woman would cut in and change the topic. Teaching strategies, phonology, her experiences with challenging students, her classroom management skills; all were examined and queried by the unrelenting pair.

 Her mouth grew dry, and her voice cracked slightly from the strain. Had she caught a hint of pleasure from the woman as she’d teased K with a sip from her iced goblet? Struggling to overcome her weariness she’d answered her last question, on the merits of Mark Twain as a social commentator, when she’d gotten her first shock…

“Would you like a drink?”

The voice resonated and reverberated from the leathered books on the walls. She’d turned with a start, licking her lips involuntarily. How had she not seen him? He’d stepped lightly out of the shadows by the window. She’d swallowed, almost painfully, as she’d seen him in the light.
He was tall, with black hair and piercing blue eyes, and he smiled at her consternation.

Moving forward, she’d caught the flash of silver on his wrist as he extended his left hand to her. She still hadn’t said a word as his hands enveloped her soft, warm hands in a caressing handshake. She’d felt the hidden power of well-used muscles in his fingers and she swallowed once more.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, Miss K, but, since this is your first interview, I will. Would you like a drink?”
She’d nodded, and whispered, where had her voice gone?
“Yes”.

He’d smiled gently at her, let go her hands and returned with a silver goblet. She’d been greedy, gulped when she should have sipped. Warm, heady, honeyed alcohol ran through her like embers…

“Miss K”, he’d said, “you’re extremely intelligent, well-mannered and capable of dealing with…” he’d lingered for a split second before continuing, “demanding situations. But I require more from my staff.

There is a power in life experiences that you need. A teacher needs to lead by example, and for studies and achievements, you will excel. However I don’t feel you’ve explored yourself fully, see the hidden depths within yourself, you’ve lived in the sunshine for too long, and you need to journey through the darkness to be a guide in the future. You need to experience pure pain, and with that pure pleasure in order to reveal you’re true nature.”

His words, the alcohol, and her tired mind had combined, she’d exclaimed, “what do you mean?”

Leaning forwards and taking her un-offered hands, he’d smiled again and said, “Come back at the same time in two months’, and I’ll both tell you and show you.” He’d lifted her then, raising her hands, and with it her, until she was looking up into his eyes. He’d guided her then, still holding her hands, until they stood at the doorway.

“The French believe a woman’s sensuality for the day begins with what they choose to wear; next time, wear clothing to match your true nature.” With those words, he’d opened the door, escorted her through and closed it behind her.

On her way home, her thoughts had jumbled together, a mix of flushed nerves, warmth, and a release of tension. What were pure pain and pleasure? She had had lovers, she knew what pleasure was; yet still the thoughts of accepting his guidance and control caused her pupils to dilate, her lips to open slightly and her breath to deepen. She wondered at his effect on her. And she thought, “Yes! This something I want to try. I’m young, free and I want to see where this will lead”.

Her hair was finished, it shimmered as she got up, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. She dressed with care, she wanted to impress him, but more than that, she had listened to his words since then, and yes, she had started to feel the sensuality of what she wore. She teased herself by wearing revealing, silken underwear to her friends’ parties.

 Her orgasms had become more intense as she’d imagined scenarios of his long fingers guiding her, she held motionless by his voice, motionless to his will in that room. She couldn’t pinpoint it, how could a voice and fingers cause such intense pleasure, for such a small loss of control? She’d tried to rationalize it in daylight, but by moonlight, her senses took over, and she went in to her darker half.

She was ready. Taking one last deep breath, she stepped out, into the night…

The test

She was admitted wordlessly, but not silently, the great bell clanging through the ancient testament to learning. She climbed the stairs in trepidation, not knowing what to expect when she entered the room. The door was ajar, and there was an expectant silence from within.

The room was similar, yet slightly different, from before. The same books lined the walls, the heavy curtains still let streams of light shine in, and the heavy desk still commanded her view. He sat behind it, fingers splayed on it, as he watched her approach. But there was no chair for her.

She approached steadily, watching him defiantly. She had mastered her fear, she was a daughter of the Moselle, with a lineage that stretched back to antiquity; she would not be cowed by a man for no reason, and certainly not for words spoken two months ago. She stood before him, crossed her arms and waited…

“Put your hands by your sides” he commanded. Her hands dropped, and her chin lifted slightly. He cocked his head to one side as he considered her poise and her beauty.

Her breasts pushed out against her corset, her thigh muscles were framed by her silken stockings and her glowing skin contrasted perfectly with her short, black cocktail dress. Her sun kissed hair silhouetted her voluptuous frame in gold and summer. ‘She was a perfect contradiction’, he thought to himself, the dark desires and the golden disposition.

“Are you willing to be trained?” he asked at last. She nodded an affirmation, but he frowned, and said, “Answer when you are asked a question. A nod can be involuntary, words have power”.
“Yes”, she replied.

“Yes, to what?” he queried, firmly yet gently. She knew he was guiding her voice. ‘Why this insistence on specifics’, she wondered.
“Yes, I am ready to be trained”, she answered…

“Frau Kaninchen, you’ve never been trained before, have you?”
“No Sir”, he frowned, “No, Sir, I’ve never been trained before”, she completed.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, looking deep in to her sapphire blue eyes.
She bit her lip briefly, “I don’t trust you yet…Sir”

“Then today we will work on trust; trust, obedience and control. Today, you will control your restraint, you will show me that you can, and will, obey me. And I will show you that I won’t pass your limit. Although I will test them” he added with a smile. It was infectious, she smiled back.
And then he was on his feet. He looked down at her, matching her unflinching gaze. She saw the icy glint in his fiery blue eyes, and she wondered, ‘was this a mistake?’…

“This is a Test. I’m going to hurt you, a lot. And it’s for you to decide when I stop. If you pass my number, then you pass the test and you will move in on Monday for two months. If you fail, then we will never see each other again. Do you agree?”

She gritted her teeth, looked back in to his eyes, and answered, “Yes, I agree.”

“Put your hands, palms down, fingers spread on the desk.”
She stepped forwards, and he immediately stopped her. “No, remain standing where you were.” She retreated and looked down; she was almost a metre from the desk. Carefully she stretched her arms out, ready to catch herself if she fell. Bending her knees she could reach it, and she did so.

“Straighten your legs.”
He was remorseless, she thought with a growing excited nervousness. She stood, balanced, her fingers flat to the dark wood and her head barely higher than her back.

“Arch your back, and look forward.” Directly across from her was a silver rimmed mirror and she could see herself outlined in it…
He reveled in her figure as he strode around her and the desk. Her skirt had ridden up her thighs, revealing the tops of her suspenders. He lifted it up above her delicate black underwear; her ass was heart shaped and perfect.

He waited a moment, drinking in the sumptuous view she presented. And she was aware of his desire, a smile escaped her lips. But the ice frosted his eyes, and he measured her will as he traced the outline of her silken buttocks with his fingertips. Her breathing deepened but she didn’t flinch from his touch.

“Count for me” he breathed in to her ear.
The first strike from his hand caught her perfectly on her right buttock, sending a jolt of pain along her back, and down to her fingers. She gasped, but said nothing.

“I said count” he repeated, and this time there was an edge in the spank, a sting that sent a shiver along her.

“One, two,” she quickly said…
“Frau K, you’ve made me repeat myself. For this error I’ll double your test. And be warned, if you lift a hand from the desk, or move your feet, you fail”.
With these words he began in earnest. This time there was little gentleness in his hands, the strikes continued, alternating between cheeks, reddening her skin and eliciting deeper and deeper gasps from her trembling lips.

K continued to count, even as each slap stung her. She moaned as he increased the pace; had he been teasing her! ‘Could she continue?’ her thoughts trembled in her mind, jarred as she focused again on the count. ‘God, the Count!”.

He paused, and walked around to face her across the desk. “How many?”, he murmured as he caressed her glistening face; oh so gently!
She shook her head, but then tried anyway, “37?” she queried.
“35”. His eyes frosted, “we’ll start again…”

She nodded wordlessly; she would pass his test she promised herself.
Each cheek was already sensitive from her earlier spanking, and this time he was equally unmerciful. Each cheek was punished; each cheek was pushed to her limits and then released as he would work on the other. She thought at times she would scream, or cry, but she focused on her count. Almost sobbing her numbers out as each blow fell on her bare skin.
At thirty six he stopped, he kissed her tenderly on her marks, gently but insistently he cooled her fevered skin and slowly her breathing returned to normal. She was trembling, her body wracked with the desire she could feel within them both.

He calmed her, bringing her slowly to stand while holding her against himself so that she did not fall as she swayed.
“You passed the second test, yet failed the first. You may continue your training, yet I cannot fully reward you, yet. Congratulations; enjoy your next few days of freedom, and I’ll see you in three days”.
She smiled in triumph, and walked out, in to the night…

The trap

She shifted her weight from one knee to the other, testing the leeway as she sank a little in to the velvety fleece. She had a little, but not much. The heavy, black shackles on her ankles kept her feet stretched apart. Her knees were ensnared in soft and unyielding rope, spreading her thighs. She looked up to the black coils that pulled her slender arms in to the darkness above her. A bead of seat traced its way down her back, leaving its salt taste on her golden skin.

She shivered as she looked about her, everywhere she saw herself; her helpless form reflected in eight silvered mirrors. Her hands were bound and tied to silver hoops high above the bed. Her head and hair were completely free; he wanted her to see herself. Her gold and his silver, was there an analogy here to the sun and the moon she thought to herself.
The dark bruises on her buttocks, his marks, were the only flaws on her otherwise perfect body. She winced as she thought of the pain of the last three days…

She’d gotten the train home, standing all the way. Her thoughts chasing each other, she still couldn’t remember the journey clearly, not one passenger noticed or cared for. Elated, giddy and unthinking, she’d fallen in to her bed and slept a dark, dreamless sleep. The next day she’d gotten in to the shower, and shrieked when the hot water sluiced over the raised red welts of his hands. She’d been more careful since, sponging herself, applying Aloe Vera sap and patting herself gently dry. She didn’t sit down for two days. By the third her bruises had appeared; dark blue fingers covered her from just below her back down to her upper thighs.

She’d traced the marks with her fingers; remembering which had made her wince, or sob, or which had torn a tear from her proud eyes. But she had passed her trial by hand, and now she was going back for two things, her punishment for loosing count, and her reward for reaching 36…
He stood before her, stripped to the waist, lean and wiry and smiling darkly at her. In his hands was a black flogger; long, thin strips of leather bound in a silvered handle. He balanced it with his hand as he ran his eyes over her lush body. Her breasts were roped upwards and tied against her body. Her nipples were large, her areolae wide and inviting; and such a delicious pink!

The clamps bit deeply, and she gasped as they first pinched her nipples, and then pulled them as he attached the weights to the connecting chain. The pain was intense and continuous. She practiced her breathing, struggling to retain control, she focused on the stretch in her arms, trying to block out thoughts of her nipples.

“I’m going to flog you now. Do you know what you have to do?”
“Yes Sir”, she nodded, “I have to count the strokes”.
“Exactly so”, he smiled wolfishly at her.
The first blow caught her low on the back, the things wrapping around her slender waist to sting her exposed midriff. She panted, swallowed, and said, “One Sir”.

The second was higher; it caught the underside of her right breast, making her wince and twist. ‘Leeway, Ha!’ there was only enough to squirm under his lashes. The strikes continued, caressing her back and belly with stings. At twelve he paused, smiled again, and said,
“This will hurt….”
The leather straps curled, flashed and landed with a slap across her left nipple. The tears welled in her eyes as she stuttered, ‘thirteen…sir”.
“Louder”, he insisted.
“Thirteen Sir,” she sobbed out.
He paused, “Can you continue?”

Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him, “Yes Sir, I can continue”.
He smiled, “Good, the next will be quicker”. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen and eighteen, all flashed by. She was flogged front and back; her nipples and breasts screamed at her as she shouted her count. They continued, hard and fast, this was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. And the pace continued to increase.
There was nothing but the storm for her. It flashed strikes against her, and it crashed as she continued to shout. Her senses were ablaze, no thoughts, only a crescendo of pain. She clung to her rock of numbers as she crested the wave, threw back her head, and shrieked,”Thirty-six Sir!”
Her head slumped and her body shook as she trembled from the receding waves…

She shook as his teeth bit firmly on the nape of her neck. One hand pulled her hair and head back. Another was at her drenched labia, teasing his way clear. There was the slightest touch on her swollen clitoris and she gasped at the intensity of her reaction. Her neurons were hardwired to her senses and they snapped from pain to pleasure with one flick of his fingers as his hand held himself firmly against her pelvic bone.
She thrust against him, feeling the unyielding strength she thrust deeper. He moved with her, letting her control the speed, but always demanding extra depth. His fingers moved against her inner wall, and the upper ridge of his palm was firm against her clitoris.

She could feel her climax coming on, deepening her breath. Her areolae and nipples were a crimson red and the muscles knotted in her thighs and upper arms as she strained against her bonds.

It came on suddenly, before she’d had time to think, waves of pleasure swept through her. Her back arched and her abdomen pushed and thrust against his hand. Her orgasm filled her, deepening as it echoed and reverberated through her head and heart. She moaned from her soul to the dark…

Her shackles were unlocked, her knees released; and when the ropes slid off her breasts and wrists, she collapsed on to the fleece. She was shaking and her mind was numb. Then, he was there. He caressed and held her as her breathing slowed. Her body stopped trembling as he soothed her shattered nerves. As he felt her return, he lifted her face, oh so tenderly, and she opened her eyes in to his.
There was a world shared between them in that moment. He had tapped in to her core, past her thresholds for sensuality and in to the realms beyond. He had embraced her in her pain and her pleasure, and she was caught like her namesake, a Rabbit caught by her Hunter. She was trapped, and he had caught her…

The dungeon

She moaned again in her blindness. The heavy leather kept her eyes shut against the flickering candles, but her mouth was free and she gasped again as the vibrations changed rhythm. She shifted her position and pushed the vibrator tighter against herself. There was so little give, her head was free, but it hung backwards over the edge of the bench. Her ankles were bound to the roof, black leather shackles kept her legs pulled upwards. Her hands were bound against the side of the leathered bench she lay on. Her body was fixed, three black straps crossed it, one above her breasts, one below them and another tightly bound her midriff.
The bench she lay on was slick with her sweat and juices. The insistent vibrations continued to pulse against her clitoris. Her gasps and pants increased, her breathing deepened and she felt another orgasm coming on. Her skin was slick with sweat; it pooled at her neck and ran down in to her glistening hair. As the orgasm ripped through her, she screamed it to him. His control, her desire, his need and her abandon combined in the darkness…

She had started her torment naked, standing in the darkened dungeon, high in the tower of Jäger’s home. The bench and chains, the cross against the wall and the wall of whips and floggers had terrified her. Her mind would grasp what one could do before another swam before her eyes.
Naked, she’d felt defenseless, and then she was. She’d obeyed all his commands, directly and with pride in what had developed between them. But this was such a deep submission. Her eyes still shone with the sapphire blue of her youth, but they were tempered in silver by the wisdom of what she’d discovered within herself.

He started her on the cross, bound against the wood, he clamped and weighted her nipples and then flogged her unmercifully. After each beating, came the release. He’d sluice her down with warm oil and then tease her in to orgasm. There was a will in the way he controlled her, and her pain and pleasure increased with each session.
Next had been the bench, her ass curved to his hands as she’d held the wooden sides tightly. She still counted for him, and he always checked to make sure she got it right. When she was red and raw he slowed, stopped and caressed her. His tongue brought on her next orgasm, tasting, drinking and reveling in her delicious juices.

Then the blindfold, her chained ankles and her bound body. He waxed her shining skin first, covering her lush breasts with hot liquid. But then the vibrator started, he’d tied it so that it pressed against her. The rhythm changed and moved with her, the harder she pressed, the faster it went…
Slowly her trembling receded. His hands and tongue cleaned the salty liquids from her quivering body.

“Oh God” she gasped. His tongue was flicking against her throbbing maidenhood.
“Could she take more?” she frantically formed the thought before it was swept away in her sensory overload. Tears started, and she sobbed as her body responded once again to him.
But not yet, J took off her blindfold, and looked in to her trembling eyes. He stood behind her, and she could only look at him fully by letting her head drop back. He was naked.
She felt helpless, her mouth open from leaning back and there in front of her eyes, his erect cock. She licked her lips in invitation. There was power in him and she embraced it with longing in her mouth and eyes.
She whispered, “Please…”

Again, that half smile of his, “As you wish.”

She licked his length as he ran it over her face. Her mouth was hungry for him and she squirmed against her restraints to get closer. She wanted to worship him, to take his cock in her and be filled by it. Her questing mouth followed him as he teased them both. Finally he relented…
His two hands held her hair and head. He moved his thumbs to her mouth; she opened it wide and willingly. He slid in. Her mouth and throat were open to him and he moved in slowly, deliberately and relentlessly. One hand moved to her throat, cupping her slender neck firmly, the other held fast to her golden hair, keeping her head fully back and down against the hard wood.

He worked her. Her mouth filled with saliva so that it fell out of her gaping mouth. It covered her face and ran in to her hair. His cock grew larger as she lubricated it with her glands. It ran in and out smoothly as she got it wetter and wetter. He changed his thrusts, sometimes slowly filling her until she gagged on him and sometimes he’d only let the tip enter her as he quickly thrust in to her.

Slowly he moved his engorged head deeper than it had gone before. It pressed down in to her throat and he stopped. His hand massaged her choking throat, and his other held her hair in its iron grip. Her eyes watered as he slowly counted down from ten. She couldn’t breathe and her body arched against its bonds. Even as her legs kicked the chains that held them she heard the last “One” and he withdrew. The tears and saliva covered her beautiful face. But there was no end in sight…

She had become his plaything, trapped in his dungeon, but she knew it was her passions and desires that had truly trapped her. She had entered happily, almost playfully, and now she was his. Her orgasms had given him an intense power over her, her mouth was his to do with as he pleased.

There was nothing but his cock and her mouth. She could feel his orgasm coming on, the taste of salty pre cum in her mouth and the tightening grip of his hands. His primal instincts were taking control, his breathing turned in to bestial noises and she responded by rocking her head against him faster.

It came on quickly, three final thrusts, three final gasps and then his guttural howl as his release came. His cum hit the back of her throat as he orgasmed in her mouth. She swallowed convulsively as the hot liquid continued to flow in to her.

She slurped and swallowed it all, licking his cock clean, and drinking the last drops from him. She smiled up at him. She had felt the shift in the dynamic, and now took the power from him by her submission to him. He withdrew his glistening cock from her mouth, she was a mess but he cleaned and kissed her streaked face. And as he smiled at her she smiled back. He whispered, “Thank you” and her smile grew wider…

Sissy Slave is Controlled

How she deflower the sissy slave in me

---

Her sissy, her object, her wife

I don’t know if it was part of her master plan, or whether it was simply a germ of an idea that, over time, has evolved into a lifestyle. It is certainly a lifestyle that has turned the traditional male/female roles upside down. She controls the money; I do the laundry; she makes all the decisions; I simply obey; she wears the pants; I wear the skirts (or whatever she tells me to wear). I clean the house while she watches television, or does whatever she wants. If she wants something, she calls on me to get it for her. In short, I am the traditional “woman” in our marriage, and I must wait on her hand and foot (literally).

Strong women to keep you in line near    One day, I guess she recognized how my role had evolved and decided to formally emasculate me by forcing me to wear “sissy” underwear. From that point on she started calling me her wife, or her “Little Sissy”. Sometimes, she looks at me disdainfully and says “I wear the pants in this house”. She then adds with a laugh “You wear the panties. Don’t forget it my Little Sissy” And that was only the beginning. But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself here.
In the bedroom, she makes the rules. She always has at least one orgasm. On the other hand, I am only occasionally allowed to cum. And, on the rare occasion that I am allowed to cum, she ensures that I lick up every drop. She wants no icky mess in the bed or on the floor, or anywhere (except on me sometimes).
Actually, it was in the bedroom that she started us on the path that lead to me becoming her “wife”.

I will wear a chastity device to show my love to you

When we were first married, we made love in the traditional vanilla way. Generally, with me on top, we seemed to make love all the time. In fact, looking back I guess we both had an insatiable sexual appetite. Then one day, after about 10 years of marriage, we had a serious conversation, and Fiona said that she was frightened that I would lose interest in her. For whatever, reason she was worried that I would start looking for a lover. I assured her that I love her and I would never do anything like that. It was a couple of days later that she dropped the bombshell. Fiona told me that her best friend’s husband had run off with a younger woman and that she was devastated. She then told me that she wanted me to wear a chastity device whenever I leave the house.

 At first, I laughed because I thought she was joking. I could see that she was annoyed at my response, so I reassuringly said “Look! Fiona, if you can find such a device, I’ll wear it any time you want, because I love you Fiona and if it will ease your mind then that’s fine with me.” Although I truly meant what I said, I didn’t fully appreciate what I was committing to, nor what it would lead to.

Sure enough, a couple of days later while I was drying off after my shower, she walked into the bathroom with the device in her hand. At first I didn’t even know what it was she was holding in her hand. She looked up at me, and smiled and said: “ are you ready for the chastity device?”
I guess she took me aback, and it must have shown on my face, because she smiled and said “You did promise”

I said “Sure go ahead, put it on if it will ease your mind”.

I guess it helped that I was quite small after my shower because it only took her a couple of seconds to slip it on and lock it in place. She then pulled me close to her and we shared a long sensual sexy kiss. It was the type of kiss that really gets me going. It always gives me a hard erection, and of course nature was trying to take its course, but the device was doing its job. Fiona, then laughed and quickly left me there in the bathroom trying to understand what was happening to me. I was as horny as hell but I couldn’t get erect because of the device. It was truly frustrating. After a couple of minutes, I gained some measure of composure and was able to pull myself together enough to wander nonchalantly into the bedroom. When I entered the bedroom, Fiona was dressed in her sexiest lingerie.

 She walked up to me smiling and pulled me to her, and we kissed again. This time it lasted longer, and our hands started to wander all over each other. Again, I was dealing with total frustration, and this time Fiona seemed determined to press every button I had to get me aroused. I felt her hand cupping my testicles, and then she started feeling the device. She then suddenly took a step backwards and looked at me. She laughed and said “That’s great! The device is working”. “Tell me about it” I responded. She then said: “I have one more request, and then you can go off to work.”

Challanged into denial

I said “Sure what do you want?”

She replied “There is one little sexual fantasy that I’ve had that you can satisfy right here and now.”

Well, now she really had my interest. I guess she’s going to take the damn contraption off me and we’re going to make love. Thank God I thought.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and she said. “I want you to get down on your hands and knees, and beg to go down on me”
She added “If you beg properly and sincerely, I’ll take the device off you tonight, and we’ll make love”.

I immediately dropped to my knees and said “Please Fiona may I go down on you. I’m begging you, please.”

With that she said “ it’s not bad for a start. You may crawl to me and remove my panties with your mouth, but keep your hands behind your back. At no time are your hands to touch me. Do you understand? If a hand so much as touches me there will be no lovemaking tonight.”
I thought to myself this is kind of strange, but who am I to question someone’s fantasy. I then started to crawl towards her.

I could see that her panties were very wet from our kissing and petting. I tried to pull her panties down with my teeth, but of course it wasn’t possible to pull them off, and after a couple of minutes, and without thinking, I simply took both hands from behind my back and pulled them off, and Fiona also helped by wriggling out of them. She then pushed my head into her moist wet pussy, and I started to gently use my tongue on her. She was pulling my hair drawing me closer and she ordered me to probe with my tongue deep into her vagina. She then ordered me to suck on her clit. It wasn’t too long before she started to moan quietly. I realized that she was guiding and controlling my mouth and tongue by pulling my hair to guide my head and commanding me where, when, and how she wanted me to service her. Soon she came. It was unlike any orgasm she had enjoyed previously. I guess it was the first time she had been in total control.

After a couple of minutes, she looked at me and said “That was wonderful, Darling. Unfortunately, you disobeyed me. You touched me with your hands, so no sex tonight is your punishment. Now, you better give your face a bit of a wash and head off to work. We can talk tonight.”
Over the next couple of days, I realized that she was in fact taking over control of our sex life. I didn’t yet understand that it was more than our sex life that she was taking control of.

After the first two nights of chastity she told me that I had been a good boy and that I could cum. However, she said that I would have to allow her to tie me to the bed. Her rationale was that I could overpower her to get the key. By tying me to the bed she could go and get the key without fear of me following her. So I agreed to let her tie me up, and from that point on, bondage was a part of our lifestyle.

She had obviously planned this in advance because she produced some cuffs and chains, and before I knew it I was lying naked on my back with each arm attached to the top corners of the bed, and my feet tethered to the corners of the foot of the bed.

Some bondage will surely help me focus on her pleasure

After a couple of minutes she returned with the key, but instead of unlocking the device, she started teasing me. She started kissing me and running her hands all over me. She was driving me crazy. It was pure torture, and she was enjoying every minute of it. She then sat on my face and told me to kiss her pussy through her silk panties. Her panties were wet by now, and I felt her wetness on my chin as she sat on my face.

After a couple of minutes, she removed her panties and then ordered me to use my tongue on her pussy. And just like the previous morning, she assumed total control of my tongue and mouth. I began to sense that she was using me like a sex toy. This time however, she stopped before she climaxed, and reached down and at last removed the chastity device. She then sat back on my face and began barking out orders on how I was to proceed servicing her. She began stroking my penis.

 I was almost instantly hard, and after the days of teasing and denial I was almost ready to ejaculate immediately. She then stopped touching me and told me to concentrate on her. She then got back to using my mouth and tongue on her pussy. I could hear from her moaning that she close to coming. But then she stopped, got off my face and moved over my still rock hard penis. She then gently lowered herself over my penis, drawing me deep into her vagina. I came within a whisker of ejaculating while she was sliding me into her very wet vagina. She looked at me, smiled, and said, “Here’s the rules darling. I am going to come with you inside me. But, you are not allowed to cum while you are inside me. I want you to cum after I get off you. If you come while you are inside me you will be punished. Do you understand?” I mumbled “Yes Fiona”.


With that she started to move her hips on me, and she began bucking up and down, deliberately sliding up and down my shaft. I tried hard not to cum, but by the third stroke I shot my load. It was probably the most intense orgasm I had ever had in my life. There was no doubt that days of denial made for a very intense orgasm. Meanwhile, she kept grinding and she came very soon after me.

After, a couple of minutes we both regained our composure. Foina laughed “One week of chastity is your punishment. Also, there’s one more thing that you will always do from now on”

She then got off me carefully and stood over my face and laughed “have some cream pie!”

With that she sat on my face and placed her pussy, dripping with my semen, over my mouth and said “Clean me! I don’t want one drop of that icky stuff left inside me when you’re finished. Do you understand?”
At that point, I didn’t know how I was going to last a whole week without sexual release. I certainly wasn’t going to risk making things worse. And for the first time in my life, I tasted what women around the World have been forced to taste since time immemorial, male ejaculate. In this case, it was my own. And at this stage I didn’t care, I had at last had an incredible sexual experience, and although I was now well and truly her sex slave, I was happy and content. I actually thanked her for the incredible experience, and I began licking her pussy clean, tasting the saltiness of my own ejaculate.

Setting the rules

So our new life together began. She became ever more sexy, and ever more unattainable. She started wearing the sexiest lingerie she could find. She also started wearing leather pants, and leather skirts, and silk blouses. After 10 years of marriage she knew how to push my buttons. She did all sorts of things to get me aroused sexually. Then she would leave me high and dry. She would promise me that I could cum if I did the washing, and the vacuuming, and the laundry. Before I knew it, I was doing all of the housework.

For the next few months I found myself adjusting to our new lifestyle. I have always loved my wife dearly, but now I found that I was falling ever more deeply in love with her. It is not something that I could rationalize, or explain. I guess love is strange, or at least it can be.

One day, while Fiona and I were enjoying a morning cup of coffee together, I asked her if she could explain why it is that I actually enjoy being denied any say in our sex life. I told her that I didn’t understand how I could possibly enjoy being kept in chastity. She smiled and said “It’s because you are submissive. It’s just a part of your nature, and it’s a part of your nature that I love, because I am dominant in nature. After all, you must admit that when I do let you cum, you really enjoy it. Don’t you?”
I smiled and said “Yes, you’re right. You have taken me to new heights that I never thought were possible.”

I then added “You know Fiona, I find that by being denied the opportunity to climax, I spend a lot of my day thinking of you. I picture your beautiful round bottom, or those breasts that I love to suck, or your pussy that I love to use my tongue and mouth on. In fact you haunt my mind, and I become totally enchanted by the thought of you. That’s why I end up doing whatever you ask of me.”

Fiona laughed and we embraced and started kissing, and without giving it a second thought, I picked Fiona up in my arms and carried her through to the bedroom. I then gently placed her on the bed, and we carried on kissing.
She then pulled away and looked at me and said “You realize that you are my sex slave.”

I smiled and said “Well I hadn’t thought about it, but I guess you’re right.”
She then said, “if you are my slave then you better start taking orders.”
I was a bit surprised by that comment, and I said “I thought I was doing a pretty good job at following your orders. After all, I am so desperate to cum, you know I will do anything that you ask.”

She then laughed “Anything!?” and I realized that I had walked into a bit of a trap, so I said “Well, I guess so, within reason.” She then looked at me quite earnestly and said “What do you mean by ‘Within reason’?”
I said “well, I mean I am not going to break the law, or hurt anyone, or do anything that’s dangerous.”

She then looked at me with a feigned hurt expression on her face and said “I am upset that you would even think that I would ask you to do anything that would break the law, or hurt anyone. After all, I am a lawyer”
“I’m sorry Fiona,” I replied, “I guess I was wrong to qualify my comment like that.”

She smiled and then said “so that means you’ll do anything I ask, right?”
I looked into her beautiful green eyes, and said “Of course Fiona, I have total and absolute trust in you, and I will do anything that you ask.”
She smiled and whispered, “It sounds like you are agreeing to be my slave.”

I realized that this was not a decision to take lightly, but I found the thought of being her slave absolutely enchanting and exciting. I gave her a kiss and said, “If you want me as your slave Fiona, it would be an honour.”

She smiled, and again we kissed. This time it was a long sensuous kiss. Our tongues gently explored each other’s mouths while our hands explored and caressed every erogenous area of flesh that we could find. I was, once again, starting to feel the frustrating sensation that had by now become all too familiar.

I expected that Fiona would very soon be asking me to go down on her, or perform some other sexual function that would result in her having an intense orgasm. But, to my surprise she pulled away and said “Now slave. I want you to remove all of your clothes right now.”

So like an obedient slave, I started to remove my clothes, and I put them in a neat pile on the bed. I was then a bit surprised when she went to the drawer and pulled out the cuffs and chains, and this time cuffed my hands in behind my back, and then cuffed my ankles, so that I could only walk by taking very short shuffle steps. She then gathered my clothes together and walked out of the room with them. I was hoping that she would return with the key to unlock the chastity device, but unfortunately, she came back empty handed.

At this point I was standing beside the bed with my hands tightly secured behind my back, and my ankles chained together. The only other item I was wearing was, of course, the chastity device. She stood in the doorway and seemed to be inspecting me, I could see her mind working. She then approached me and reached out and held my plastic encased penis in her hand and said “Poor Uncle John.” She then added “I guess as long as your hands are tied up behind your back there is no need to keep Uncle John incarcerated. Is there?” “Not at all.” I replied quickly.

She then marched out of the room and came back shortly afterward with the key in her hand. She then removed the device and started stroking my penis. To the surprise of neither of us, my penis responded to her gentle touch immediately. She started flicking my penis with her finger and she said “You know. Now that you are my slave, this penis belongs to me.” “It may be attached to your body, but otherwise it is really no different to any other sex toy that I have.” She then leaned forward and gave it a lick. She then drew it into her mouth and started sucking it. Inside a minute I was very high, and true to form, she stopped and walked away. I was totally frustrated, but at least this time I was able to enjoy having an erection, which is a sensation that was denied me while I was forced to wear the chastity device.

She came back a minute later and started to remove her clothes. She did it slowly and sensually, and from time to time she would interrupt the process to rub herself against my naked body, and stroke my penis. Finally, she removed her bra, and laughingly she hung it on my erect penis. She then went over to the chest of drawers, opened her lingerie drawer and took out a 3 feet long red cord. She walked toward me with a menacing smile on her face. She then smiled and said softly “It’s time for Uncle John to experience the joy of bondage.”

She removed the bra that she had left hanging on my erect penis and started stroking my shaft until I was close to cuming. It didn’t take long at all because I was very high before she even touched my penis. She then took the cord and started to tightly tie up my penis and scrotum. It wasn’t painful, but it was a bit uncomfortable. She had tied the cord tightly around the base of my penis, and then looped it around each testicle to separate them, finally winding it around the shaft and tying it securely just underneath the head of my penis.

Goddess is her name

She then pushed me back onto the bed and I lay there feeling completely helpless. I was lying on my back with my hands tied behind my back, my ankles were also bound, and now my penis was fully erect and very tightly bound. Never before had I felt so totally powerless. Fiona then got up on the bed and stood over me. She was naked except for her black panties which I could see were wet at the crotch. She looked down at me and said “Now slave, tell me exactly how you are feeling right at this moment.”
I felt that she probably already new the answer to the question but I replied anyway “I’m feeling extremely helpless Fiona. In fact, I have never felt so vulnerable in my life.”

She then said “Well slave, I have never before felt so powerful. I have complete and total power over you. You are my property. You are to serve me and make me happy. As my slave, you no longer have the right to call me Fiona. From now on you must call me Goddess, because from this point on I am your Goddess. Do you understand slave?”
 “Yes Goddess.”

I replied. She then continued “Now slave I am going to ‘Queen’ you. Do you know what that means, slave?”
“No Goddess. I have no idea” I replied. She smiled and said “I am going to sit on your face and use you to achieve sexual gratification. You are to use your mouth and tongue as I command. Do you understand slave?” Again I replied, “Yes Goddess.”

Now it was very strange, because although I was feeling very vulnerable, I was also feeling highly aroused sexually. It is a response and sensation that I simply couldn’t make sense of, but happily I didn’t dwell on it. I decided to just go with the flow and enjoy the experience of being a slave to this woman who had, through her intelligence and force of character, turned me into her slave and herself into my Goddess.

As I was thinking these thoughts she lowered her wet panty clad pussy onto my mouth. This time however, she grabbed my head and pulled my head firmly into her bottom so that my nose was pushed into her anus, and my mouth was covered by her pussy. I was intoxicated by the sensation. The feel and the scent of her womanhood had me highly aroused and then I suddenly realized that I couldn’t breathe.

A few seconds later I started moving my head in an attempt to get some air, but she held me firmly and I couldn’t move or do anything about it. I decided to relax and rely on her to not let me suffocate. After all, I had agreed to trust her. She then moved forward and allowed me to breathe through my nose.

She then said “Remember slave, although I hold the power of life and death over you, you must always trust me to look after you.” She then removed her panties and she commanded me to suck her clit. By now I was an expert at sucking her clit. It had reached the point where I knew by every little movement of her hips exactly what was expected of me. Faster or slower, gentler or harder, I could suck her exactly as she wanted.

 In hindsight, it was the first thing that she had trained me to do. It didn’t take long before she came. It is probably because she was very high before she mounted my face, but she had a very intense orgasm. I felt my face being held in a vice like grip between her thighs as she came. And she came in an explosion of feminine nectar that I found absolutely intoxicating and highly sensual. I continued to lick up her juices, and to my surprise her hips started moving again as she had a second, very intense orgasm.

After a few minutes she got off me and lay on her back on the bed, and just relaxed. It was about 10 minutes later that she finally spoke. She said “Well slave you did well, and you should be rewarded. However, it will have to wait until tonight because I have to shower and go to work for a couple of hours, even though it is Saturday.” With that she got up and walked toward the bedroom door. Before she could leave the room I spoke up. “Excuse me Goddess, but shouldn’t you untie me?”

She looked around and said “Oh yes I almost forgot to tell you, a slave is not allowed to speak unless he is asked a question.” With that she grabbed her soiled panties, wiped them against her pussy and shoved them into my mouth. She then left the room and had her shower. I lay there for another half hour to contemplate all that had happened.

Starting the sissyfication

She came back and started dressing herself for work. I still lay on the bed trussed up where she had left me. She started talking, and with her panties still stuffed into my mouth I could not join the conversation. She said “I am going to have some simple rules that you will have to follow. To start with, you will only wear clothing that I allow you to wear. I have locked away all of your clothes except for those that are needed when we have to appear vanilla. And even those are under lock and key. The only clothing that you free to wear whatever you want are woman’s clothes. Starting right now you are only allowed to wear feminine lingerie. Your male underwear has been thrown out in the trash. You will wear panties, stockings and garter belt under your work clothes. You will also shave your legs regularly. I will be inspecting you. So you’ve been warned. Do you understand?” She then reached over and removed her panties from my mouth.

I replied “Yes Goddess.”

She then went over to her lingerie drawer and pulled out a pair of pink silk panties and walked towards me. I immediately had a sense of horror. She’s not going to make me wear those is she? I thought. Sure enough, she removed the cuffs from my ankles and started drawing the panties up over my legs. She had me stand up, and she continued to draw them up over my penis, that was still firmly tied up. She then started to untie my penis and, remarkably, it became instantly erect again. She then laughed “Well what do you know? I married a sissy boy.”

I was deeply embarrassed and ashamed, and I turned red in the face. She laughed again “Oh sissy boy is embarrassed!”

At this point I didn’t know what to do, and this was exactly the response that Fiona was hoping for. “Who would have thought that my macho husband, who was too masculine to even be seen in a pink sweater would be turned on by dressing as a sissy girl.” she laughed.

She then looked at my penis and said “Well, sissy boy we really have to do something about that erection if I am to get you back into the chastity device, and I am definitely not going to let you cum all over those pretty panties.”

She then told me to bend over the end of the bed. she then removed the belt from the leather pants that she was wearing and started whipping me with the belt. It stung quite a bit, and sure enough after about 3 or 4 strikes I was completely flaccid. I guess she was watching because before I knew it she had put the detested chastity device back on.

Finally, she removed the cuffs from my wrists and headed towards the front door as I stood there dumbfounded at all that had just transpired, wearing nothing but a pretty pair of silk panties, and still frustrated but aroused, and unable to do anything about it.
And, as she walked out of the door she said “Be sure to shave those legs before I come back.”

And that was the start of it all. From that point on, it became more than just a sex game. I also found that Fiona, would find new ways to control me. She would find new ways to ensure that I could not back out of this arrangement, although so far, I have never had the desire to back out. If anything it has been the opposite. The deeper she has drawn me in, the more I have enjoyed it.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Red Room Redux [latex, slave]

---

It had been a day of firsts for Slave Two. She had been abducted and transported to a place unknown, a strange sort of room, octagonally shaped and covered with mirrors which only seemed to compound her peril. No matter where she looked she saw her own reflection sometimes even repeated multiple times. She had been stripped and strung up by her wrists. Her legs had been obscenely spread. She wanted to cry out to her captors, but they had seen to that. They had forced a big bright red ball gag into her mouth.

Just when she expected to be be raped or beaten, two women dressed in pink latex had entered. And when they did the whole room turned pink. They had been hobbled in chains and their wrists had been cuffed in such away as to provide a degree of limited movement. They brushed out her tousled hair and put it into a pony tail. They carefully applied makeup, even lipstick and eye shadow. And then they shaved her pubic hair.

 Slave Two had tried to wrench her body away. She screamed in protest, but she was ignored. One of the girls simply grabbed Slave Two by her new pony tail and pulled her head back so far that all she could see was the ceiling. The pull had, in turn arched her whole torso forward obscenely, offering up her delta mound to the girl with the straight razor.

And when they were done, the two latex girls hobbled out of the room.
Slave Two could not help but stare at her own predicament. No matter where she looked, the mirrors made her sex a focal point. Her lean torso and her long, lovely legs had created a cruel geometry. Like spokes on a wheel they all radiated inward to her hub, her loci, her own axis mundi. Much to her shame, her own labia had opened in her bondage, a pair of luscious nether lips, ready to receive whatever was to become her new fate.

 Slave Two looked away in horror, as if to deny her new reality. But, no matter where she looked all she could seen was her own skin, her own pink girl flesh. “No!” she cried to herself and closed her eyes tightly, hoping against hope that this was all some sort of bad dream, that maybe when she would open her beautiful big eyes again, this other reality, this nightmare, would go away.

“Slave Two! Wake up!” said a voice.

Slave Two’s eyes snapped open wide to see a rather diminutive woman dressed in black vinyl. She had a riding crop in her hand.

“You heard me,” She said as she began to caress the poor helpless girl’s breasts. “That’s your new name. That’s right, I said ‘Slave.’ It’s your new life. You live to serve me and me only. Call me Mistress X when you can.”
Mistress X had pressed her body against her slave’s, lifting a thigh up between the outstretched legs. The caresses had turned into groping, her hands roaming all over Two’s torso, cupping her ass and weighing her breasts almost as if they were a commodity at a fruit stand. Her breathing grew heavy. Spittle formed on her lips just before she kissed Two on and all around her ball gag.

 The smell of her sex began to fill the room.

Poor Slave Two! She had never been intimate with a woman before. She never even wanted to. The whole idea was repulsive. Just then a finger invaded her sex. It touched her clit and began to friction her. She fought hard at first, clenching her entire body in some sort of insane attempt to break free from her bonds. Another finger gently touched her nipples, coaxing them into hardness. Against her will, Slave Two grew moist. She was getting aroused. A wave of shame came over her. She began to blush, a deep body blush that turned her beet red from her head to her toes. And when she did, the room had changed too. Pink had turned to red and red was reflected ad infinitum.

“Some of my staff call this the examination room,” said Mistress X. “But I like to call it the Red Room. Take a good look, Slave Two. This room is you and all you. There is no modesty here, and no secrets between us girls.”

Slave Two had stopped struggling. She moaned into her gag. Her body began to undulate. Her hips began to push themselves into the deft hands of her new mistress. She was just beginning to reach her final throes of ecstasy. And then the hand stopped. Mistress X stood back and laughed.
“You got it all wrong, slave,” she said. “I don’t pleasure you. You pleasure me.”

X swung her crop through the air a couple of times. Then she spoke slowly each sentence punctuated with a couple of whip strikes: “These thighs belong to me XX. These hips belong to me XX. These breasts belong to me XX. This ass belongs to me XX. Even this cunt longs to me X. It is mine and mine alone X. And I will do with it as I please X.”

Slave Two had gone wild with pain, screaming into her gag, twisting and turning as best as should within her bonds. Her eyes had glazed over. She had entered a certain state of mind which Mistress X had often called “subspace.” At last, she calmed down and hung limply in place. All the life had gone out of her.

“And now I’m going to give you a lesson you will never forget,” said her mistress as she pierced the poor girl right through the clitoris.
Slave Two let out a series of blood curdling screams which reverberated against the mirrors. X passed a small gold clit ring through the hole as her new slave fainted dead away. Her skin had grown ashen. The blood had seemed to drain right out of her. Her work complete, X left the room and everything had turned white.

The entire story :

Showtime for Slave Six [female slavery] | Lust Moments slave torture

---

“Places, please for Slave Six. Places.” A woman’s voice announced over the backstage speakers. It was the casual tone of the stage manager spoken in near monotone. The insouciant delivery was most ironic. Backstage, somehow or another in the darkness, the word “slave” was a commonplace word for these people. It made sense. “Slave” was business as usual, nothing at all out of the ordinary.

But Slave Six knew better. Butterflies churned deep down inside her stomach as she heard the steady beat of dance music on the other side of the red velvet curtain just ahead of her. Raucous cheering, from what must have been an all-male audience, would break out at regular intervals, sometimes punctuated with wild applause and even a few occasional catcalls. The music played to a crescendo and stopped. An emcee’s voice broke the short-lived silence. The words were garbled, but they made no difference. A drum beat was played, the same beat that accompanied just about every striptease act since the days of Vaudeville: Boom chakka chakka boom chakka boom. It played again and again, each time followed by the tortured screams of some unseen girl.
Slave Six knew her time would have to come altogether too soon. She felt an overwhelming sense of fear and dread, greater than anything she had ever felt, even in these last few days after her capture. She tried to fight back against the feeling, tried to be stoic and keep her wits about her. But it was impossible. Fear undermined her every thought rendered her weak in the knees. Her lovely nearly naked body betrayed her too as she began to tremble all over. Six wanted to turn away. She wanted to run, but she had no choice. The strong arms of two very large men held her up and walked her slowly forward.

“Final call for Slave Five: Slave Five,” announced the unseen voice.

Six could see “Slave Five” standing directly behind the center of the curtain. Five had been blessed with a beautiful hourglass figure. She almost looked like a Barbie Doll, complete with impossibly long legs that were so well defined, they almost seemed chiseled. Five might have even been a dancer in her former life. She had costumed appropriately as a ballerina in a tiny crinoline tutu, arm length white gloves, white stockings, and white ballet slippers. There was no elastic, no zippers, or snaps. Everything was a traditional eighteenth century, including her white silk panties, also tied at each hip with white satin ribbons, which were in turn, tied in petite little bows.

The top half of Five’s costume, however, painted a contrasting picture. It was a brief white bustier/corset which had been laced up tight around her waist. It stopped just sort of her lovely breasts, exposing them, accentuating them, even pushing them wantonly up and out for her would-be audience to see. Five had also been fitted with a white ball gag that was tied deep into the back of her mouth, also with a satin ribbon. Five would not be dancing in the ballet, of course. Instead, she had been carefully crafted to create something more like a pornographer’s dream, an almost unreal vision of innocence defiled and obscenity revealed.
White satin ribbons also held the poor hapless beauty captive. Her knees and her ankles were bound together. Almost ironically, this little prima ballerina couldn’t even dance a simple step.

Elbows and wrists also had been pulled together behind her back and similarly bound. A male guard, more than twice her size, held her steady. One arm wrapped around her wasp like waist and lifted her on tiptoes in a perfect en pointe pose, however rigidly enforced. His free hand grasped her long blond hair which had been carefully braided into a single severe strand behind her head. The guard used it like a rope. As far as he was concerned, her hair was just another bondage point. He used to bend her trembling body backward. It was a difficult pose for Five. The two of them together had created a terrible tableau of helplessness and pain.

Slave Six struggled with her predicament as well. Her long and lithe female frame had been perched on top of a pair of impossibly high black patent leather mule shoes with six-inch heels. The simplest steps were nothing less precarious, especially on the hard tile floor. To make matters worse, she had been cuffed on each ankle and tethered with a short twelve-inch chain that jingled with every step. A ring gag held her mouth open wide, forcing her luscious lips into an almost perfect “o” which distorted her lovely face into a strangely enforced expression. It was as if she was permanently poised for a scream. Whatever it was, the scream would never come. Still, she managed some degree of personal dignity. She tipped her head back as she walked. It may have made it more difficult to maintain her balance, but she didn’t want to drool all over herself.

“Last call for Slave Five,” announced the unseen voice. “Last call.”

A quiet battle of wills began to unfold as the winsome young ballerina struggled to twist herself free from her guard. In turn, each of her own constricted movements would be swiftly countered. He was a mountain of a man easily twice her size. Her struggles made no sense whatsoever, but the reason no longer mattered. Five was mindlessly lost in a roiling sea of her own emotions, all of which told her to run. Together the two looked like they might have been characters in some sort of absurd tragedy, or a strangely choreographed sideshow, a little bondage ballet depicting man’s inhumanity to women. And, oddly, it played itself out almost in perfect time to the music.

Six’s “costume” if one could call it that, stood out in sharp contrast to Five’s. She wore all black: sheer thigh high nylons held up by the tiniest strap garter belt, a pair of thong panties almost equally as transparent, a satin underwired black half cup push up bra which covered only the bottom half of her breasts. The little bra had shamelessly exposed her nipples and imbued them with an almost continuous sense of motion. Her lovely cleavage looked like liquid under the skin: a bounce, a bobble, and a ripple accompanied each of her hobbled steps. In just a few minutes, they were sure to become a command performance in their own right, but her own debasement was made worse by her bondage. Her arms had been pressed together behind her back and forced into a single sleeve leather monoglove which painfully pulled her shoulders back and cantilevered her cleavage up and away from her torso. The winsome Six was already well too aware of the show that she had been putting on for the guards. She glanced ever so briefly at their eyes, but they never made contact with hers. They were riveted on her breasts instead, eagerly drinking in every bounce and jiggle.

“Showtime for Slave Five,” said the voice. “Showtime.”

Slave Five’s guard pressed his cheek against the helpless girl’s. He kissed her gently on the ball gag and whispered something, no doubt obscene, into her ear. In turn, the frightened girl stiffened up and called upon every muscle in her lovely body to wrench loose from his grip in one last heroic effort, but is was futile. The guard just laughed. It was all part of his plan. He pulled her by the hair until and tipped her head back as far as it would go. A fanfare played. The curtains parted. And the two of them were framed in a bright white spotlight. Then, right on cue, the guard lifted the terrified girl off her feet and took a giant step on stage. In a trice, the curtain fell closed behind them as the audience roared with approval.
The corridor went dark once again. Slave Six was now all alone with the two leering guards. They walked her to the same place where the ill-fated Slave Five had stood. One of them pinched her nipples. She let out a squeal, but no one cared. The noise on the other side of the curtain had become deafening. The music played to a new crescendo. Somehow or another over the top of it all, Slave Six could hear the tortured screams of her predecessor.

“Makes them hard,” the guard spoke directly into her ear as he pinched her a second time. Another hand grabbed her by the ass.
“Final call for Slave Six,” said the voice. “Final call.”

A finger found its way past the tiny thong panty and worked its way up into her sex. Shocked and surprised, she stood up on tiptoe. She tried to wiggle away, but the finger stayed right with her, penetrating her, friction her, and fucking her by proxy. Six turned beet red in the darkness and closed her eyes in shame and humiliation.

“Oh,” she moaned in protest, shaking her head from side to side. Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Makes you wet,” said the other guard.
The three of them may have been standing still, but her breasts began to jiggle all over again, this time from the fucking. Against her will, she started to moisten up. Her panties turned wet and transparent, clinging gently to the tender cleft of her sex, now a fleshy female camel toe almost offered up for all to see. A new sense of shame came over her. Everyone would know she was aroused. There would be ho hiding it. She tilted her head back even further, this time not as a matter of pride, but total surrender.

What could she do? She was no longer a woman. She was just a number, nothing more than so much girl flesh, all lips and tits, an innocent victim of sadistic depravity, a fleeting figure on stage who would be ruthlessly toyed and tortured against her will merely for a moment’s entertainment. She was a slave and nothing more.

The stage was had grown quiet. Five had stopped screaming, but her incoherent sobs could be heard even through the curtain. A new crescendo played.

“Showtime for Slave Six,” came the call. “Showtime!”
The curtains opened once again. The light was blinding. The emcee said something but no one really noticed. The half-naked, semi-aroused and totally humiliated Slave Six was thrust forward so hard that her head tipped forward releasing a mouthful of drool all over her bouncing boobs. Cheers filled the room. Life would never be the same for Slave Six.
The entire story :