An Evening With Mistress

As I lowered my head to eat, she reached down and affectionately ruffled my hair. She knows how much I enjoy that; the warmth of her touch, the simple demonstration of her affection and approval. It's just the sort of thing that helps make everything else worthwhile.

It was early evening. The sun slanting through the south-facing patio doors warmed the tile on which I was kneeling. I could hear a cold February wind howling by outside, but even though I was nude, the temperature indoors was comfortable.

I paused to plant a brief warm kiss on the toe of her slipper, then watched as she turned and walked into the living room. She is beautiful. She's intelligent, strong, adventurous, playful. She's the girl I fell in love with; the girl I married. She captured my heart the day I met her. Six years later, after we had been married for five years, I gave her the rest of me. At my request, and after months of discussion, she made me her slave.

Yes, I know. There is no such thing as true slavery in modern day America. Or is there? There are many types of slavery. There are the welfare slaves who have given up their hopes and dreams in exchange for a hand-out from the government. There are slaves to drugs, to prostitution and gambling. There are even slaves to the so-called "American Dream" who have sold their freedom for a new car, a bigger house, more toys. Yes, there are many types of slavery in modern America; most, if not all, of them far less enjoyable and satisfying that my own.

This is not to say that my own enslavement is any less complete or any less literal, even in the classic sense of the term. The day I became a slave, my wife and I transferred all of our combined assets into her name; house, cars, bank accounts, investments, everything. With the help of a lawyer friend of hers, we even transferred all the household items, including the the clothes I wear. I am penniless. I have absolutely no access to money other than what she gives me. Even if she should die before me, I would still own nothing. I have seen her will. I've even signed it. Since we don't have children, most of her possessions will go to her sister. The rest will go to charity. The only time I am mentioned in her will is the point where she states that she wishes her friend, Caroline, to take responsibility for my welfare; in effect, deeding her ownership of me. I am mentioned right after the list of items to be given to her sister and right before those to be given to charity.

That was five years ago. Since that time, neither of us has even considered returning to the way things were before. Few people know the true nature of our relationship; a few close friends, her sister and brother-in-law. In public, we simply seem to be a couple in love; a beautiful woman and the man who adores her. At home, we are still in love, she is still beautiful, and I still adore her. The difference is, at home no one would ever mistake us for anything but what we are: a mistress and her slave.

I shook myself from my reverie and returned to my evening meal, finishing it quickly. I ate what Mistress had left on her plate, having satisfied her hunger. While she had eaten, I had knelt on the floor at her feet, ready to serve her, engaged in the sort of intimate and mundane conversation of more "normal" couples at the end of a long day, at the end of the week. When she was finished eating, I hurried to pull her chair back from the table and assist her to rise. She left the room while I cleared the table, put the food away, and washed the dishes. The food on her plate I scraped into a heavy ceramic pet dish which I set aside on the counter. Having finished, I went to Mistress and informed her of the completion of my chores.

I knelt quietly in the center of the kitchen floor while she made a rapid inspection. She observed the kitchen table, the counters, and sink. She opened the refrigerator to make sure food was stacked neatly inside. Satisfied, she picked up the pet dish and set it upon the floor near the back door. Its color matched that of the floor tile almost exactly. She gave a sharp snap of her fingers.

At her signal, I crawled quickly to the bowl at her feet and lowered my head to eat. It was then that I had felt her affectionate touch. My kiss to her was both customary gratitude and a demonstration of my uncommon adoration. After she left the room, I lowered my head and fed from the bowl. I take all my meals at home in such a fashion; naked, on hands and knees, eating directly from the bowl, not using my hands. Often I feed on Mistress' left overs. Sometimes she feeds me something she has prepared specifically for me. Always though, the manner of my eating is the same. She says it is to remind me that I am her slave, her pet. As unpleasant as it may be, it is an effective reminder.

Finished with my meal, I licked the bowl, along with the floor around it, as clean as possible before washing the bowl and my face. I then joined Mistress in the living room. She was sitting in her recliner, her feet propped up. The smooth sounds of a jazz ensemble coming from the stereo speakers provided a soothing accompaniment to the crackling of logs burning in the fireplace. Mistress was reading through one of her professional journals, occasionally jotting down notes as she read. I knelt at the foot of her recliner and gave each of her slippered feet a quick kiss.

"Bring some more wood in for the fire first," she ordered absently as I started to remove one of her slippers.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered as I returned to my feet. I gathered up the wood bag and moved to the back door. I strapped on a pair of sandals before slipping outside. The frigid air seemed to cut right through me as I hurried around to the side of the house. The firewood was stored under the shelter of a lean-to against the side of the house. I sat the wood bag down and hurriedly filled it, before scurrying back to the house. Inside, I kicked my sandals off and practically ran to the warmth of the fire. I emptied the bag and stacked the wood on the ledge next to the fireplace. I paused to warm myself by the flames.

"Bring us one more load, pet. It's going to be a cold night," Mistress ordered, still concentrating on her journal.

"Yes, ma'am," I responded, groaning inwardly as I picked up the wood bag to go after another load.

Mistress finally looked up from her reading as I warmed myself by the fire the second time. "You're positively shivering," she pointed out with a smile.

"It's freezing out there!" I reminded her as the flames drove the chill from my body.

"Then it's a good thing we have enough wood to last the night," she said. The fireplace has a heat chamber that circulates hot air around the firebox and through the house ventilation system. Mistress' home has a conventional heating system, which is only augmented by the heat from the fireplace. However, her property is occupied by several wooded acres. It provides an inexpensive means of heating her home. We use it regularly on cold evenings. "My feet could still use some attention," Mistress mentioned as she returned to her study.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered as I returned to my position at the foot of her recliner. I began a favorite nightly ritual of both of us; a foot massage. We both like it for the same reason; how good it makes her feel. I bent over and gave each of her house slippers a brief kiss, on the soles, near the ball of the foot. Then, I gently slipped them off, kissing each a second time before setting them aside. I began with her right foot. Softly at first, I proceeded to cover it with my kisses. After that, I returned to her big toe, licking and cleaning it, sucking it into my mouth as my hands began massaging her. After cleaning each of her toes, and the spaces between them, I moved to the sole of her foot, never ceasing my hand's kneading and massaging of her muscles. Slowly, I worked my way over her arch to her ankle.

I glanced up as I gently set her first foot aside. Mistress was leaning back in her chair, her journal forgotten in her lap. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed. She was relaxed, almost asleep, a contented smile on her lips. My lips wearing a smile of their own, I picked up her left foot.

Sometime later, she sat up and smiled down at me. "I can't tell you how good that feels," she beamed. "I'm so lucky to have you for my slave."

"I'm lucky to serve you," I answered.

She lifted her foot to my lips. I bent to kiss it, nuzzling it with my lips and cheeks. "I feel like a bath tonight," she informed me. "Go start one for me and you can serve me some more."

"Of course," I answered as I started to get up.

"Wait," Mistress ordered quickly. She picked up her slippers and placed them toe to heal, soles out. She leaned forward and placed them cross-ways between my teeth. A hand under my chin urged me to close my mouth. "Drop these off on your way," she ordered pleasantly.

I gave a muffled whimper of consent as I again started to rise. Her hand on my shoulder prevented me. "Crawl for me," she commanded softly.

Again I answered with a single whimper as I turned to leave. She gave me a playful swat on my hip. "Cute butt!" she giggled. I couldn't help but smile around her slippers as I crawled toward the bedroom.

Still on my hands and knees, I crawled into the master bath, or as Mistress likes to call it, the "Mistress Bath." I started running water in the large garden tub. I added a few drops of lavender-scented oil and some bubbling soap. I knelt beside the tub as it filled, stirring the water, working the bubbles into a froth. When the water was at the correct level and temperature, I turned off the taps and lit several candles that were scattered around the tub and vanity. I switched off the light, then went to get Mistress. I wasn't sure if she had intended me to crawl only to the bedroom, or if she expected me to remain on all fours. To be safe, I crawled back to the living room.

"Still on all fours?" Mistress teased as I approached her. "How sweet, pet. Is my bath ready?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Go kneel by the tub," she instructed. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Yes, ma'am," I answered. I returned to the bathroom. I heard Mistress enter the bedroom. The rustling of clothing told me she was undressing. When she entered the bathroom moments later, she was nude. I caught my breath at the site of her. I felt my cock surge against the confines of my chastity device as the blood rushed into it.

"Down, boy," Mistress smirked as she stepped by me into the tub. She sank back into the tub with a sigh. The water came to the top of her breasts, the bubbles hiding her from view. "It's a good thing I keep you locked up," she chuckled. "Otherwise, you'd get hard every time I turn around. Just think how distracting that would be for you."

"Yes, Mistress," I groaned. Shortly after she had enslaved me, Mistress had purchased a chastity device for me. This one was in the form of a tube that encased my penis. It is held in place by means of a band that circles around the base of my cock, behind my balls. The band is held in place by a small brass padlock. Only Mistress has the key. The tube is only about 3 inches long. The inside diameter is roughly the same as the outside diameter of my flaccid member. There is very little room for expansion. As long as I'm wearing it, it's impossible for me to get an erection. I'm forced to wear it constantly.

I looked over at her. She had her head back, her eyes closed, luxuriating in the warm water. "Well," she asked without opening her eyes, "are you just going to sit there, or are you going to bathe me?"

"Sorry, Mistress," I mumbled as I picked up a large soft sponge. I lathered it up and, beginning at her shoulders, began bathing her. I love bathing her. She is so beautiful. I love running my hands over her body. Touching her with my hands has become a rare and special privilege for me. Even when I bathe her, I am expected to touch her only through the sponge. As much as I love bathing her, touching her, running my hands over her arms and legs, her breasts and hips, it is still torture for me. My cock throbs the whole time, straining against the confines of its tube. It's terribly frustrating.

Mistress rolled over onto her knees, her back to me. I sponged her back, the backs of her legs, her bottom. When I was finished, she stood up and I rinsed her off. I helped her from the tub, then took a towel from the towel warmer and dried her off. She stepped over and sat down at her make-up table. Our bathroom had originally had a double sink vanity. Shortly after my enslavement, we had remodeled. We removed my sink and vanity and replaced it with a make-up table for her. Now, she could sit before her mirror to apply her cosmetics and do her hair.

She picked up her hairbrush and handed it to me. I took it happily and began to pull it through her long lustrous auburn locks. I thoroughly enjoy brushing her hair. It's so soft, so fragrant. As I stood behind her, brushing her hair, I feasted my eyes on the reflection of her nude body in the mirror before me. She must have noted the direction of my gaze, for she interrupted my reverie. "Are you staring at my breasts?" she demanded to know, shifting in her chair and observing my eyes tracking the movement of her exposed nipples.

"You're so beautiful, Mistress," I stammered.

"Do you think I'm parading around in the nude simply for your enjoyment?" she questioned.

"No, ma'am," I answered quickly, forcing my eyes from her breasts.

"You can't control yourself at all, can you?" she accused gently.

"Not where your beauty is concerned, Mistress," I answered truthfully.

"That's very sweet of you, pet," she answered, smiling warmly up at me. She reached back and briefly fondled my balls and encased cock. "However," she continued more firmly, "I do expect a certain amount of restraint from you. I had thought I would unlock you later and use you for my pleasure. After this little demonstration of your lack of control, I think that simply won't do. If you have no more self control than this, I probably wouldn't get much pleasure from you after all."

"Please, Mistress!" I started to argue.

She held up a single finger to silence me. "Not tonight, pet," she stated.

"You'll have to serve me in other ways tonight. Perhaps if you show proper restraint, I'll let you out for some fun later this weekend."

"Yes, Mistress," I answered glumly.

"Finish my hair," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," I responded.

Soon I was finished with her hair and pulled her chair out for her to stand. She glanced over at me and smiled slyly. "I really don't think you should be on your feet right now," she commented as she walked toward the bedroom. I immediately dropped to my knees, enjoying the view as she walked away from me. On hands and knees, I crawled along after her.

I found her sitting at the foot of her bed, totally un-self-conscious of her nudity. She smiled as I approached. "Well, pet," she asked, "what will it be tonight?"

"Whatever you wish, Mistress," I replied as I moved to a kneeling position before her.

"I really was looking forward to a nice big cock tonight," she informed me.

"But since yours is locked away, I guess I'll have to make do with a substitute."

"Please, Mistress," I begged, "use mine!"

"No," she snapped. "Don't ask again. Fetch your strap-on," she ordered. "It may not be you, but at least it'll be hard and long."

"Yes, Mistress," I answered, trying not to sound too disappointed. I crawled over to her toy drawer and pulled it out. I dug through a pile of leather straps, chains, and assorted odds and ends until I found what I was looking for. I lowered my head and used my teeth to extract a mass of leather and buckles. I turned and crawled back to the bed.

"Put it on," she ordered with a nod.

I rose up on my knees and wrapped the straps around my hips. I tightened the straps that ran through my crotch. When I was finished, an 8-inch, flesh colored dildo protruded obscenely from my hips. With a huge smile on her face, she spread her knees and reached out to put her hand behind my neck. With one smooth motion, she pulled my head firmly between her thighs.

Obediently, I began laving her with my tongue.

Soon, she was flowing freely as I eagerly strove to keep up. She leaned back on her left hand, the fingers of her right hand still twined about the hair at the back of my head. I glanced up past the beautiful globes of her perfect breasts and saw she had her head thrown back, eyes closed as she gave herself to the pleasure I was providing her. I used the skills she had taught me to slowly carry her up the long slope to her climax. When she did finally orgasm, she flooded my face and her thighs with her fluids. I continued to gently lick her, cleaning her as she came down from her high.

After a few moments, she sat up and looked down at me with a huge smile on her face. "That was wonderful!" she purred, "but now I'm ready for round two. Come up here and give me what you've got."

I followed her up onto her bed, crawling between her outstretched thighs. It was the first time I had been allowed on her bed in three days. I kissed my way from her belly to her breasts. Impatiently, she hooked a finger in the harness about my waist and pulled my hips to hers. Disappointed, I allowed her to guide the dildo into her. Oh how I wished it could have been me!

It felt awkward thrusting into her. I could feel the pressure against my belly through the harness, but I couldn't really tell when I was about to pull completely out. Still, Mistress was obviously enjoying it. In fact, she had me bring her to two more noisy orgasms before she allowed me to pause for a rest. She wore a contented smile. She looked up at me as I rested over her, the dildo still thrust to the hilt inside her. "I thoroughly enjoyed that, pet," she purred, "so big, so hard, and it never goes soft."

I groaned in frustration. My cock had tried to get hard the whole time I was servicing her.

"You know," she teased, "since that toy is so much larger and longer lasting than you, it may be quite a long time before I allow you inside me again."

"Mistress, please!" I begged desperately.

She only giggled happily. "Roll over," she ordered. "I want to go one more time. Then you can finish me off with your tongue again before I go to sleep." She rolled with me and came to rest kneeling, straddling my hips, the shaft of the dildo still buried within her. She began rocking her hips as I started thrusting up into her, my cock throbbing painfully in its tiny prison. I reached up to fondle her breasts and she playfully slapped my hands away. "Hands behind your neck," she ordered.

Reluctantly, I obeyed. She thrust her chest out playfully, moving her breasts side to side. She giggled. "You like my breasts?" she asked.

"Of course, Mistress," I answered enthusiastically. "You have the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen!"

She giggled again as she continued to display them for me. She leaned over and brushed her hard nipples across my lips before pulling them back just out of my reach. "Would you like to touch them?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I answered.

"Would you like to kiss them?" she teased.

"Yes, Mistress!"

"But you can't, can you?" she laughed as she sat back up. "Can't get it up, can't enjoy sex, can't touch the woman you love, can't even look at her without her permission, can you?" she tormented me.

"No, Mistress," I groaned.

"Why not?" she demanded as she reached down to tweak both my nipples.

"Because I'm a slave, Mistress," I answered as I watched her undulating seductively on the hard shaft protruding from my belly.

"Are you owned?" she asked as she continued her motion.

"Yes, ma'am," I agreed.

"Who owns you?"

"You do, Mistress," I answered.

Suddenly, she leaned forward and gave me a long, very passionate kiss. "And I love owning you," she said after finally breaking off the kiss. "You make my life so special. I live a fairy-tale life, a fantasy life, all because you belong to me. I'm not giving you up for anything!" she exclaimed as she kissed me again.

I couldn't speak. I love her so much. She makes my life so complete. As insane as it may seem, I wouldn't wish my freedom back for anything. Despite the almost constant sexual frustration, despite the multitude of small and not-so-small humiliations, despite everything I've given up and continue to give up, I absolutely love being her slave. I need her ownership of me, of my entire being, like I need air to breath. I would sooner give up breathing than give up being her slave.

Suddenly, she shuddered in the throes of yet another orgasm. She collapsed forward on me, burying her face against the side of my neck as she hugged me tightly to her. It was a long time before she stirred again. She lifted her head and smiled down at me. She gave me a quick peck on the forehead. "I love you, slave," she announced softly.

"I love you, Mistress," I assured her.

At last, she sat up and extricated herself from the dildo. Quickly, she removed it from the harness. "Get on the floor," she ordered.

I moved to my knees on the floor beside the bed.

"Lock your hands behind you."

I moved my hands behind my back, palms facing each other, and interlaced my fingers together. I would keep them that way until she told me I was free to move them. Mistress moved to her side on the edge of the bed, facing me, the dildo in her hand. She passed it briefly under my nose. "Can you smell me?" she asked.

"Yes, Mistress," I answered.

She pressed it lightly against my lips. I opened my mouth, running my tongue across the tip, tasting it, tasting her. "Can you taste me?"

"Hmm, yes, Mistress."

She smiled. I continued to lick the tip and shaft of the very life-like phallus as she held it for me. "You know," she mused quietly, "just because I love you, don't expect I'm going to make your slavery any easier."

"Yes, ma'am," I agreed as I continued to lick traces of her fluids from the shaft of the fake penis.

"Every minute of every day I'm going to remind you, and incidentally myself, that I own you; in every conceivable sense of the word."

"Yes, Mistress," I mumbled as I continued my cleaning.

"It won't be easy for you," she warned, pulling the dildo away from me, forcing me to focus on her words.

"I understand, Mistress," I answered. "If I wanted easy," I continued when she still didn't move, "I wouldn't have begged to become your slave and I wouldn't long to stay your slave."

"You really are a slave, a true slave, aren't you?" she asked in wonder.

"Yes, Mistress," I assured her.

She looked down at the dildo in her hands. "Are you also a cock sucker?" she asked mockingly.

I hesitated, looking at the toy in her hand. "Yes, ma'am," I answered tentatively.

She held it to me, but when I moved to kiss it again, she pulled it away. "Beg for it," she teased. "Beg to suck my cock."

"Please, Mistress, let me suck your cock," I pleaded.

She held it to me briefly, then pulled it away just as I opened my mouth. "More," she demanded.

I groaned softly. "Please, Mistress," I begged. "Please. I want to suck your cock. Please let me suck your cock!"

She moved her hand back to me. I began licking the shaft. I opened my mouth and sucked it in. I pulled back until I felt the ridge behind the bulbous head bump the inside of my lips, then sucked it deeply back within my mouth. "That's it," Mistress encouraged. "Suck it in. Show me what a good cock sucker you are. Show me how much pleasure you could give me if I were a real man."

I hesitated at that last statement. I didn't particularly enjoy what I was doing and I certainly had no desire to practice my skills on a real man or even pretend seriously that I was doing so.

"Do you want to come tonight?" she asked seriously.

I had about half of the 8-inch shaft buried in my mouth at the time and couldn't speak. I did, however, eagerly nod my head in assent.

"Show me," she ordered. "Show me how much you want to come. Demonstrate how desperately you need it. Prove it by your desperation and eagerness to please me by sucking my cock. I want you to lick it, suck it, deep throat it, and beg for more."

I groaned in protest. I detested what she was asking me to do; the idea of it, the symbolism of trying to give pleasure to this obviously very male member. On the other hand, I was desperate for my own sexual release, and if there was a chance...

I redoubled my efforts to please her through the shaft she held. I licked along its veined ridges. I toyed with the head. I relaxed my jaw and sucked it into my mouth. It was thick; much thicker and longer than I was, I realized unhappily. Only by opening my mouth as wide as possible, could I get it in. It filled my mouth. I sucked it in until I felt it bump against the back of my throat. Fighting the urge to gag, I relaxed my throat until I could take it all in. I felt Mistress' fingers against my lips and tried to kiss them around the plastic cock. It took me a long time to learn how to do that, Mistress pushing me to go further, take in a little more each time.

I pulled back until only the head was inside, then repeated; slowly at first, then with more speed. She began thrusting the shaft to match my movements. "That's it, pet," she urged softly. "Show me what you can do." She began thrusting it harder, faster, the hard shaft slamming painfully into the back of my throat, over and over. When I tried to slow down, to pull back, she grabbed the back of my head with her free hand and held me in place as she continued her attack. I moaned in protest. She ignored me. I moaned again, pleading with her to stop. She continued several more thrusts before pulling it out and shoving me away. I fell back on the floor, my hands still clasped behind my back.

I looked up at her on the bed, smiling down at me. "That was the best yet," she praised. "You've never been able to take it that hard before."

"It hurt at the end," I protested. "I didn't like it."

"Still, you did well," she said.

"Does that mean you'll let me come?" I asked hopefully

She shook her head sadly. "Not tonight, pet."

"But, Mistress!" I protested.

"Hush!" she snapped and motioned me back up on my knees. I struggled into position and let her pop the dildo back into my mouth. "That's better," Mistress smiled. "I don't want to listen to you right now. I want you to listen to me.

"It's time to take you to the next level," she said.

"Next level?" I wondered

"Tomorrow, I want you to order us a new toy," she instructed. I felt relieved at first; until she continued. "I want it to be at least as big as this one, but I want it to have attached balls. I want it to be as realistic and lifelike as possible. I want it to have a reservoir so you can experience ejaculation." She smiled at my crestfallen face. "And, I want it here by the middle of the week. By this time next week, not only will you know what it feels like to have a big hard cock shoved down your throat, you'll know what it feels like to have it shoot its load against the back of your throat."

I moaned in protest.

"You realize, don't you," she asked seriously, "where I am going with all this?"

I remained quiet, deathly still as I knelt before her, naked, my fingers locked together behind my back, my cock locked in a plastic tube, prevented from lengthening, from becoming hard, while my mouth was stuffed with a very long, very hard, and very life-like plastic cock. Suddenly, I knew what she was going to say next. For the first time, it all became clear; all the months of licking and sucking progressively larger and more life-like dildos, either hand held or strap on, slowly learning how to deep throat even this, the largest of her toys. This realization struck me with the force of a knife blow deep in my guts. I was struck with a fear more real and terrifying than any I had known prior to that moment.

"You look so pale all of a sudden, pet," she giggled. "Are you sure you're okay?"

No, I wasn't okay, I wanted to scream. I was far from okay.

"Yes, I see you've figured it out," Mistress continued. "All of this practice hasn't merely been academic or for my amusement. Though, I admit, it has been amusing. No, this has all been in preparation for the real thing.

"For a long time, I've fantasized about watching two men together, one servicing the other. At first, I thought about two gay men, but that doesn't interest me. What I want to see is a normal, hetero' male servicing another man. What I want to see is you, on your knees, servicing another man," she informed me. "And not just any man. I want a young, virile man; one whose cock will compare favorably with that toy you have stuffed in your mouth. I'm not talking about some sub either. I want a dominant man, one who is and has all the things you do not. This will be some one whose cock is bigger and longer than your own, who can enjoy an erection any time he wishes, who has sex any time he wishes, and with whom he chooses.

"And you," she continued, now enthusiastically, "you will get on your knees, and after begging for and receiving permission, you will take this dominant man's huge cock in your mouth and give him the blow-job of his life. And you will do it not because you want to, or because you will derive any enjoyment from it, but because you are a slave and you are doing it for my pleasure.

"And when you're down there, on your knees, with this man's massive cock in your mouth, it won't be traces of me you taste, or even some innocuous plastic. It's a man you will be tasting and feeling. A real man. One whom you will be doing your utmost to please because you know that if he isn't pleased, if he doesn't agree that you have given him the best blow-job of his life, it is me you will be answering to."

She paused finally and sat up on the edge of the bed, her beautiful charms on open display, so close, yet still light years beyond my reach. She reached out and ruffled my hair. "Think about that when you order our new toy tomorrow," she instructed. "Think about that when you are practicing your new skills."

She got up and walked by me to the bathroom. I heard her in there, brushing her teeth and preparing for bed. A few minutes later, I heard the toilet flush and she returned to stand before me. She pulled the dildo from my mouth and gently guided my lips to her crotch. Quickly, I licked away a few drops of urine that clung to her, cleaning her. It was one of the routine intimate acts I had been compelled to perform since becoming her slave. Over time, I had grown accustomed to it. That's not to say that I enjoyed it. When I finished, she tilted my head and dried herself on my hair, then replaced the dildo in my mouth.

"You can go now," she said. "Get ready for bed and go to sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow. I free your hands. You can remove the dildo," she allowed. "However, I want you to sleep with it in your mouth tonight. Until our new toy arrives, it will become your new best friend."

"Yes, Mistress," I whispered as I removed the dildo from my mouth.

"From now until told otherwise," she informed me, "you will keep that toy with you at all times. You'll put it in your briefcase and take it with you to work. At home, it will be either in your hand or in your mouth at all times. Do you understand, slave?"

"Yes, Mistress," I answered.

"Go," she said simply as she turned to her bed.

I returned the dildo to my mouth and crawled down the hall to the guest bathroom. I emptied my bladder, brushed my teeth, and prepared for bed. That done, I reluctantly put the toy back in my mouth and dropped to my hands and knees. The bedroom was already dark when I returned. I thought I could make out Mistress' form on her bed as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I crawled to the foot of her bed and reached beneath it. I pulled out a large pet bed. It was an oval cushion about 4 feet long and 3 feet wide. On its center was coiled a length of gleaming chain. One end of this chain had been bolted to the bed frame. The other end held an opened padlock.

I picked up the padlock and made sure it was looped through the last link on the chain, then hooked it to the ring on the front of my collar. I swung the hasp around and pressed it home, snapping it shut with a click and chaining myself to the foot of Mistress' bed. One key to the padlock was in a key-safe, also under the bed. The safe was controlled by an electronic timer, set to open and release the key at 5 AM. When the key was released, I would free myself from the chain and begin my morning chores. In case of emergency, a second key was kept in the night stand next to Mistress' bed where she could quickly retrieve it. Of course, it was out of my reach. I lay down on my bed, then sat back up. I pulled the dildo from my mouth. "Mistress?" I asked softly.

"What is it, pet?"

"Were you serious before?" I asked. "About the... about the man?"

"Put it back in your mouth and go to sleep, pet," she ordered quietly.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, disappointed. I put the toy back in my mouth and lay down on my bed.

Sometimes she did that; threatened to do something when she had no intention of actually doing it, just to mess with my mind. She made sure that she followed through just enough times to let me know she just might do it. I could never tell if she was serious or just bluffing.

I remembered the time she had threatened for weeks to make me wet my pants in public, then finally followed through one day in the park. Then there was the time she had dropped me off one afternoon along a deserted country road about 10 miles from our home and left me to make my way home. The problem was that, at the time, I was naked except for my collar and ankle shackles, and had my wrists cuffed behind my back. I admit, that one was kind of exciting and scary at the same time. There were others; not a lot, but enough to keep me guessing. Now this. Was she serious, or was it just another mind job? I thought about that for a long time while I lay there, trying to fall asleep.

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Page last updated 05-Apr-09 by: Altairboy@aol.com