Saturday, January 21, 2017

Fiction: fs01 - Part 64

Author’s Note: This takes place a week after Part 63.


Today will be Mistress’s second “class.” I can tell she’s excited. Her mood has been cheerful and fun all week. She spends a lot of time with Brittany. I feel them becoming close and sense the foundation of some very strong bonds forming.

This is different from how I have seen her. She isn’t romantically involved with Brittany and she isn’t gone all the time like when she was with Tristan. While Mistress has many friends aware of our lifestyle, I feel that she specifically holds back around them. Around Lisa she always wishes to look in control. Around Theresa she tries to remain “appropriate” within the boundaries of their friendship. With Dominique she remains steadfast, determined to appear as an equal but also a bit protective of both herself and of me. With her lovers, she doesn’t want to scare them away so she dribbles out our lifestyle in small, compartmentalized segments.

With Brittany, Mistress doesn’t hold back. While Brittany hasn’t fully immersed herself in the lifestyle on her own terms, I gather the impression that Mistress sees a lot of similarities between them. The logic behind the cruelty… the desire to push, poke, and prod… things that can’t be taught or sold on merits. It’s like Brittany lights a fire in Mistress and she makes no effort to contain the flames.

This brings about a state of extremes for me. I spend my days immersed in pleasure or pain. The lack of downtime is exhausting but life feels almost like a fantasy… even more so than before. Each day Mistress makes sure to spend some time teaching her about the tools, toys, and tricks behind our lifestyle. I’m torn because I don’t mind. I should mind though, right? Am I being unfaithful to Mistress to feel this way?

I save these thoughts for the few moments when I have time to let my thoughts wander. They are in frequent and I have begun to appreciate them greatly when they are there. The only things I remain absolutely certain of are that I love Mistress with all of my heart and that I am happy.

I make sure to fluff my fur today while I prepare myself to venture out into the world. Remembering this makes me feel like a good sub. A good sub doesn’t make the same mistake twice… those are the words I tell myself. I quickly finish my inspection and go to present myself to Mistress.

I help her into her coat, hat, and boots, completing the ritual with a kiss to her feet.

“You haven’t forgotten your respect violation yesterday, have you, pet?”
“No, Mistress.”

She presents a silver metal bulb from her pocket.
“Bend over.”

I cringe and whimper as I grab my ankles. I hear her spit and the sound of friction. I let out a sob as the cold steel comes into contact with the flesh of my thighs. My buttocks still throbs from the daily beatings that have carried over day after day. I’ve grown spoiled because of actual lube. I whine and cry out in pain as the bulb penetrates me.
I hear a clicking sound coming from behind me. I feel the bulb expand and I groan in response.
“Give me your hands.”

I struggle for balance as I raise my arms behind me while remaining bent over. I feel a tug on my wrists. A chain rattles and grazes the skin on my rear before the click of the lock holds me captive in place. I glance down as Mistress secures the chain between my ankles.
“Try to walk.”

I raise my upper body and yelp. My wrists are chained to the plug. I force my shoulders back, shift my weight to my heels and waddle a few paces using tiny steps. Mistress lets out a hearty laugh.
“You look fabulous, pet. I don’t think we’ll need your cape today.”

She continues to giggle as she connects the leash to my collar. My face grimaces in anguish. I open my eyes and find her face to face with me, leaning in close. My chest heaves with each breath as her eyes pierce mine. A tug on the leash lurches me forward and her lips meet mine. Her tongue enters my mouth and I feel her consume my soul. My sex strains against the belt. She abruptly pulls away and I whimper with my mouth open and desire in my eyes.
“My pet. Feeling a little aggressive today?”

I feel the touch of her leather glove on my nipple. She gently takes it between her thumb and index finger and rubs it gently. I let out a low moan.
“Do you want more, pet? Do you want me to touch you?”

Her voice is sultry and easily seduces me. I whimper again. She drags her lips across my cheek, teasing me with anticipation. I tilt my head back and moan again. A chunk of silicon forces its way into my mouth, pressing my tongue down as it barrels its way in. Mistress pulls tight on the leash, causing the spikes to dig in as the gag mutes my whine. Click, click.
“Naughty boy. Maybe the little slut will be better behaved with a cock in his mouth. That penis gag is perfect for you.”

I hang my head in shame as she gives me a light smack on the cheek. She raises my chin with her finger and her intense eyes stare into mine. With a slow motion of her arm she caresses my cheek with the fur cuff on her coat sleeve. I close my eyes and rub my face against it and make a gentle cooing sound that is muted by the gag.

Her red lips form a wide grin.
“Oh my sweet pet just wants to show some affection. How do you feel?”

I let out a small distraught whimper as the gag allows and rattle the lock and chain behind my back.
“Do you want me to take it out, is that it?”
I nod and rattle my wrists again.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Mmmph.” is all I can muster.
“Well, pet, all you had to do was ask, you know how important your comfort is to me.”

She cups her hands under my chin and plants a small kiss on my cheek. I let out a low moan. Mistress removes her hands and her boots click against the floor as she paces around me. I bend over awkwardly and raise my hands as far as I can. I hear the rattle of the keys in her hand.

Across the room I hear a bang and then a clatter along the floor.
“Oops. Those were supposed to land on the table.”
She smacks me on the rear. My face frowns and I hang my head, dejected.
“That’s much better. Those keys weigh so much that they were making my coat sag on that side.”

Without warning she strides forward and scoops up my leash and heads towards the door. The abrupt tug pulls the spikes to life and I stumble a little, waddling behind her. The first step outside meets me with a biting gust of ice cold wind. I let out a small muffled cry. I shiver as we make our way to the car. I miss my cape. I miss underwear most of all.

I watch as the back gate opens. I shuffle to it and make an awkward effort to climb in. I twist and I turn but I can’t get my knee up high enough, today’s ankle chain is shorter than usual.
“I’m going to count to five. One… two… three...”
I whine and turn around and sit. The force of the plug causes a grunt and the weight of my body falls onto my wrists and hands. I raise my legs and fall onto my side, shimmying myself into the carrier. The back gate closes.

The drive to the club feels like an eternity in this position. Either my weight bears down on metal or I have to contort myself and strain my back. The sudden lurch of the vehicle sends me sprawling but I sigh in relief. Getting out of the vehicle proves much easier than getting in. Mistress takes the leash in hand and takes her time. I look on as she flips up the collar on her coat, shielding her cheeks from the bite of the cold wind. That same wind easily finds its way to my bare skin under my dress and my nipples harden and sting.

Without the privacy of my cape I feel horribly exposed. I hurry and waddle along behind Mistress, wishing I could cover my face to hide my embarrassment. The cold soon robs me of my self-consciousness; I just want to be inside where it’s warm. We finally make our way inside the club and head to the same table as before.

The club owner turns back and grins as she escorts us in.
“Was the little boy naughty?”
“Yes, he is quite the little trouble-maker.”
“Well I’m sure he’s getting what he deserves.”

Mistress lets out a small laugh while I blush and struggle to keep up with her long strides. She finds her seat and pulls me close. I drop to my knees and she pats my head until I come to rest with my chin on the table. As the other group members file in, it’s the first time I really get a good look at them. I don’t remember much from the first meeting after Mistress set them loose on me. I spent most of that time with my eyes closed.

I do notice that the group size has dwindled. I remember Katelyn, Sarah, and of course, Brittany. Most of the younger members did not return. A new woman I do not remember sits across from me. Our eyes meet and she blushes. I blush and let out a small smile that is blocked from view by the gag.

They start in immediately with questions for Mistress.
“So where is everyone else?”
“I do not think they will be attending anymore.”
“Various reasons.”
“Like what?”

Mistress shifts her tone to a forced nonchalant attitude with a hint of sarcasm.
“I just wanted to learn how to tie my boyfriend up and spank him, not come up with fantasies. This was a little bit more serious than I was anticipating. It really freaked me out that you brought your sub along. Things along those lines. It’s fine, I expected this to happen which is why I came off a bit strong last week. If someone is just going to dabble, there isn’t much that I need to teach them.”

A chorus of agreement and understanding resounds.

“Did everyone have time to do some fantasy work and think about what they were looking for?”

I glance around and most of them not or gesture in the affirmative.
“I can start.”
“Sure, go right ahead Katelyn.”

She pulls out a small sheet of paper and unfolds it.
“In my fantasy world, I rule it like a Queen while my submissive serves and protects me like a loyal knight. He’s chivalrous and polite, thoughtful and obedient. He doesn’t nag or resent my choices nor try to question and belittle my reasons for wanting what I want. I want him to love me and I will love him. He doesn’t ask for much and is grateful for what I give him. He is a perfect gentleman.”

She puts the paper down and the group gives a small round of applause. Katelyn blushes a bit. I can understand why, sharing these types of thoughts out loud for the first time can be a bit of an emotional hurdle.

“That sounds very lovely, Katelyn. It sounds like you will be seeking someone that has interests falling in with being a service submissive but one that isn’t looking for a slave-type dynamic. Those types of relationships are often very pleasant with a deep loving bond. Have you given any thought on how you would present that on a personal profile?”

“I was thinking about just going with this. Is there anything you think I should add?”
Mistress pauses for a moment.
“Possibly. You may find it easier to narrow things down if you include a bit about the things that you like and dislike. What do you do for hobbies? Favorite types of food? That sort of thing. As important as dynamics can be, you have to remember this person will be your partner, hopefully for a very long time. For things to be truly happy, both parties should feel like they are a good fit for one another. Also… there’s the matter of kinks. Most sites will have a checklist of some sort where you can list and browse interests. Others prefer to list in their written profile. I know others that prefer to keep those details secret and only reveal them if they take interest in a potential sub.”

“I can do the hobbies and interests no problem. As for the other… I haven’t really gotten that far. When I mentioned that I wanted to find a relationship that was similar to the one that my parents had, I don’t really know what went on behind closed doors.”
“That is understandable. Just be prepared that many of the potential submissive men will be interested in some spice in the bedroom as well. You could even put that you are in the process of discovering that side of yourself and possibly list some things you would be curious to try.”
“Thank you, Cassandra. When I saw some of those lists they kind of freaked me out. I thought that I would probably look awful if I listed that I wasn’t sure.”
“Trust me. As long as you list yourself as a Dominant Woman, there will be no shortage of suitors.”

Brittany’s eyes light up.
“Oooh. Can I share mine? I wrote a profile.”
“Go ahead, Brittany.”
“Okay. Let’s see. Beautiful Domme seeks live in male sub. I am extremely cruel and demanding. Your life will be hard. You will do anything I ask and provide me access to your body at all times. You should expect to cry a lot. Chastity is a must. While you may be milked periodically, do not expect to have an orgasm for the duration of your service to me. Be physically flexible and capable of handling long periods of extended bondage. Cooking and cleaning skills are a must. No masochists. If I choose to hit you, I don’t want you to like it. No sissies. If I want to dress you up, I want you to hate it. Do not expect me to fall in love with you. While I may develop feelings for you over time, you should expect that I don’t give a shit about your feelings. Read my interests to see what I like. Local subs only unless you are willing to relocate immediately.”
“Oh dear...”
“Is there something wrong with it?”
“Let’s just say that you cracked the fantasy can wide open on this one.”
“Well, yeah. But this is what I want.”
“If you don’t mind being patient and wading through a sea of messages, it will be fine. What you are asking for is a pretty tall order out of the gate and it may be difficult to find a sub that is actually capable of serving you in that capacity. In some cases it may be easier to work your way up to that.”

“Damn. I already posted the profile.”
“How long ago?”
“Two days ago.”
“Have you received a sea of messages.”

Brittany looks down at the table.
“Thousands… upon thousands… upon thousands.”
“Did any of them look promising?”
“I think I’m going to take your advice and tone it back a little bit. How bout that weather?”
Sarah taps her palm on the table.
“You can’t just say that and then not tell us.”

Brittany rolls her eyes and pouts her lips, blowing her bangs around.
“Not a single one. Not one. I got like 2000 dick pics. I’m not even shitting you. TWO-THOUSAND in a day and a half. Like 5000 of them weren’t local or willing to relocate.”
“Did you get any local messages?”
“About a dozen.”
“What was the best one?”

Brittany peers down at her phone and reads.
“Hey babe. I wun 2 shot my cum in ur face.”

She presents her phone as proof.
“I meant best, like in, most promising. Not the funniest one.”

Brittany ruffles her hair with her fingers before picking up her phone and scrolling around.
“Shit on m chest plz.”
“I’m going to shove my cock in your mouth and break you like a little bitch.”
“Sho me yr tits. Ur hot. I wanto fuk u.”

The laughter roars across the table.

“I will shove my cock up your ass and make you beg.”
“Im a natty sissy. Spnk me.”
“All femdomz r just stupid bitches. Fuck you u greedy cunt. I hope u die.”

“Did someone really write that?”
“Yes. bigcockman69 really has a way with words. I should probably delete this profile and write one about long walks on the beach, world peace, blah blah blah.”

Mistress intercedes.
“Before any of you laugh too hard… especially those that are looking for a sub… be prepared. While your profile hopefully won’t bring out the absolute dregs of humanity, even a blank profile with ‘female’ and ‘dominant’ selected will still get hundreds of messages a day. I do suggest you network together. While you may be technically in competition with one another, it will save you many headaches if you work together at least a little bit in terms of filtering. I can almost guarantee that all of you will receive the same message from the same guy on the same day. I can even guess what it will say. ‘Dear so and so. I really enjoyed reading your profile. You seem very interesting and you’re very beautiful. I would like to meet you.’”
“What is wrong with that message?”
“Copied, pasted, and likely sent to 50 plus Dommes in a row. If they don’t give ANY details about what drew them to you, don’t bother.”

“So is this how you found your sub?”
“Yes. It was hellish. Easily one of the worst experiences of my life.”
“But you found him, right?”
“I did… seven weeks after he wrote to me. It took me that long to sift through men that I thought were potentials… only to have them all let me down.”

“I don’t want to break the subject, but I have a quick question, Cassandra.”
“Sure, Jessica.”
“I just heard from Amanda as to why she didn’t come this week and she says that she think it’s sexist and demeaning to women the way you dress your sub. Do you have any response for that type of thinking? I mean, I kind of agree with her on some level.”

Mistress taps me on the shoulder and then makes a lifting motion. I struggle to reach my feet. My face burns red as that feeling of being on display hits me full force.
“Do you know any women who dress anything like this?”
“No way.”
“Would you ever dress like this?”
“I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that.”
“So is he dressed like a woman?”
“Well, he’s in a dress.”
“You’re wearing pants today. I’m wearing pants today. Actually, all of us are wearing pants today except for my pet. Since we are all women, wouldn’t it be more woman-like for him to be in pants?”

I watch Jessica process her thoughts as the edges of her mouth curl into a smile.
“I had never really thought about it that way. He isn’t dressed like an actual woman.”
“I’m glad that you understand where I’m coming from. Don’t get me wrong, the way he is dressed is supposed to be demeaning, but it’s only demeaning to him.”

I frown and lower my eyes. My cheeks throb. Mistress taps my back and I return to my knees.

“I have a question if that’s okay.”
“Sure, Haley. And you don’t need to raise your hand.” A few giggles follow. Haley grins and squints for a moment.
“I’ve been doing a lot of reading on all of this… and I mean a LOT of reading. It seems like I keep coming across the topic of ‘I don’t want a sub that’s a doormat.’ I don’t quite understand what they mean in that. Like, they want a sub that is obedient but not a pushover? Aren’t those things similar?”
“That is a very good question. I believe that is mostly a criticism of personality, or lack of. Would you want a life partner that never had a thought or opinion on something that was worth sharing?”
“No way. That would be boring.”
“Exactly. A doormat is a sub that is uninteresting. They have nothing to offer to a relationship except a body willing to obey commands and most just don’t find that attractive as a life partner.”

“But isn’t your sub a doormat? I mean, he just sits there gagged and in chains.”
“That is a very good question but my pet is not a doormat. His behavior is a reflection of the dynamics of our relationship. He’s devoted and loving and he’s actually very interesting. The fact is that I suppress his personality much of the time.”
“So if you were going to do that, why didn’t you just choose someone that had no personality from the start?”

Mistress lets out a small chuckle. I can tell she’s enjoying herself.
“I really do love this group. You are asking exactly the right questions. I would have to answer that question in two parts. First, I had no idea our relationship would reach this point when things got started. I had an idea of what I wanted but in the beginning it was a lot less formal. We would go out on dates, have long talks before bed. It was a lot of fun. The other part is that during my screening process and testing out other potential subs I learned something. Intelligent subs are more capable both in learning and capacities. Also, subs with a lot of interests and experiences are often more focus and meticulous. If my pet wasn’t as detail oriented as he is, he would either have been beaten to death by now or I would have moved on. I tried out a few subs that were more like doormats and into the fantasy of being controlled but when it came to actual performance they were sloppy and unable to stay motivated without my constant supervision.”

“Okay. I guess I will take your word for it.”
“Give me a second.”

Mistress retrieves a set of keys from her pocket and unlocks my gag, slowly removing it from my mouth. I flex my jaw and my face flushes red as I overhear snickers about the gag being shaped like a penis. My shame is interrupted by the harsh realization that Mistress tricked me, convincing me that she left the keys at home when she actually had two sets of keys in her pocket.

“pet. What movie won the Oscar for Best Picture in 1937?”
“The Great Ziegfeld, Mistress”
“Who starred in it?”
“Myrna Loy and William Powell, Mistress.”
“What about 1947?”
“The Best Years of Our Lives, Mistress.”
“In the Heat of the Night.”

“Do you know the answers too, Cass?”
“How do you know they are correct?”
“Because if he wasn’t sure, he would respond that he doesn’t know.”

A voice rings out from across the table.
“He’s right. I just looked it up on my phone.”

“Who wrote the opera Dido and Aeneas?”
“Henry Purcell, Mistress.”
“Who were Dido and Aeneas?”
“In Greek mythology, Dido was the first queen of Carthage, Mistress. Aeneas was a mythological hero of Troy and the son of Aphrodite.”

“Who was the 14th President?”
“Franklin Pierce, Mistress.”

“Who won the American League Batting Title in 1985?”
“Wade Boggs batted .368, Mistress.”
“National League 1987?”
“Tony Gwynn batted .370, Mistress.”

“Who won Super Bowl IX?”
“The Pittsburgh Steelers, Mistress. 16 to 6.”

“In Einstein’s famous E = mc-squared equation, what do the variables stand for?”
“E is kinetic energy, m is mass, and c is the speed of light, Mistress.”

“What year did King Edward III ascend to the throne?”
“1327, Mistress.”
“1327… are you sure?” I let out a small whimper.
“I don’t know, Mistress. That one might be wrong.”

“It was actually, 1327.”
“Poor little pet, so quick to doubt himself.”

I close my eyes and the joy fades from my face. That mistake will come back to haunt me later.

“Do you still think he’s a doormat?”
“Seriously? He’s like a fucking trivia bot.”

Mistress lets out a light chuckle.

“He’s not perfect, but he’s not boring either. I choose to suppress his personality when he is around others. That’s something I keep all to myself.”

She pauses to pet my head.

“My pet is actually quite funny as well. He has this very dry sense of humor but that started getting him in trouble very early on, so I buried that as well. It’s enough to me just knowing that it’s there.”
“Will you tell us about that?”
“I’d better not, let’s just say he thought it was ‘cute’ to every so often try to create some humor at my expense. He’s learned his lesson since then.”

I hear the owner’s voice behind me giving the group a five minute warning. Mistress rises and continues speaking.

“Thank you everyone for attending today. As for next week, keep working on your profiles. Also, try to come up with five behaviors you would like your sub to have or not have and if you anticipate having to train them to make that happen.”

I remain kneeling while the others rise, attempting to keep attention away from the anal plug. My legs and back ache and my wrists have been battling the constant pressure of the spikes. I close my eyes for a moment to rest. I feel the touch of the silicon jab me in the lip. I open my eyes and my mouth as Mistress pushes it back into place.

We are the last ones to leave. Mistress paces herself to accommodate my labored steps. At the car, I brace myself for the discomfort as I sit and flip myself into the back. I’m not surprised when Brittany enters the vehicle with Mistress.

“Damn, Cass. Could you have walked any slower? It’s colder than a witches’ tit outside.”
“I’m sure there’s room in the pet carrier back there if you’d prefer to huddle with my pet for warmth.”
“That was a pretty good comeback.”
“I know.”

They share laughter as I struggle to ease the discomfort. My bottom is beginning to ache and my wrists feel raw. My desire for a quick ride home is squashed by a stop for coffee and a slew of random other errands. It’s freezing back here. Mistress’s vehicle has climate control for individual zones and it’s pretty safe to say that I have no heat right now.

We finally arrive at home and I hurry to prepare myself, excited to return to warmth. Mistress takes my leash in hand as I find my feet on the ground.

“Oh my God, are his wrists chained to his butt?”
“So you finally noticed.”
“Doesn’t that hurt?”
“I love you, Cass. I swear that you are my hero. When I grow up I want to be just like you.”

Mistress stops and laughs. I let out a whimper as the cold stings against my exposed skin. I have to wonder if she’s stalling on purpose. Mistress leads the way as I waddle along behind her. Brittany follows me, oohing and ahing at my predicament.

In the entryway I breath a sigh of relief as my body begins to return to its normal temperature. I turn and bend over, attempting to raise my wrists as high as I can.

“I don’t remember ordering you to do that, pet. Or am I mistaken?”
“No, I’m pretty sure you didn’t ask him to do that.”
“Just however should I deal with a slave that doesn’t know his place?”
“There has to be something hanging on the dungeon wall that could help teach him.”
“That goes without saying. I was planning on unlocking him in a few minutes but now I’m tempted to leave him like that all day. I suppose I could handle the mundane burden of hanging up my own coat just this once.”

Brittany bursts out laughing. I slowly rise and turn to face Mistress. I hang my head, dejected.
“But if he isn’t doing his job, I think that deserves some extra punishment.”
“I’m glad we’re on the same wavelength, Brit. I was thinking an extra dozen.”
“An extra dozen for each of us. He’s technically failing twice.”
“Sound logic. I’m sure my pet would agree that is more than fair.”

I groan from behind the gag.

“You know, Cass. I’ll bet if you shortened that chain you could probably keep him hunched over and locking his ankles to it would be hilarious. He wouldn’t be able to get off of his knees.”
“My my, Brittany. You’re so cute when your inner sadist starts to shine through.”

Brittany’s face lights up a bright shade of red.
“God, why do you have to do that?”
“Do what? I’m merely giving you an innocent compliment.”
“You know exactly what you’re doing. Ugh.”

The way that Mistress playfully teases Brittany is very cute. I let out a small giggle that barely escapes the gag. It takes me less than half a second to regret that. Both heads turn to face me.

“I think my slave has decided to be disrespectful yet again. It’s almost as if he’s having trouble remembering my punishment policy on repeated infractions of the same rule.”

My face instantly contorts into a regretful frown.

“I think some nipple clamps will help keep him focused, what do you think?”
“I think that’s a good start, but knowing you, I would have thought you would be looking more along the lines of ‘making him sorry he was ever born’ kind of a level.”

Mistress responds with a laugh.
“Just what kind of person do you see me as, Brit?”
“Like a big bottle of awesome sauce.”

Mistress laughs and takes a few steps closer to Brittany. I watch as she places her hand on Brittany’s ass over her coat. Brittany’s face again lights up red in an instant.

“Umm… please move your hand.”

Mistress begins rubbing in a circular motion. Brittany raises her face to the sky and lets out a sigh.
“Just keep going until you’ve had your fill. I totally walked right into that one.”

Mistress giggles as she circles her hand a few more times and then gives a cupping squeeze before sliding her arm up and giving a slight squeeze on Brittany’s shoulder.

“You are so much fun. Now, about my slave. Unlock him or keep him locked?”
“What am I, your magic 8-ball?” She continues blushing.
“I guess we’ll leave it up to fate.”

Mistress heads for her wallet and presents a shiny coin.
“Heads we unlock him, tails we leave him locked.”

I hear the ding of her fingernail against the metal. The coin clatters its metallic tone against the hard floor. I watch as it spins and bounces along the grout between the tiles.

“If we leave him locked, who’s going to cook us dinner?”
“I can order delivery or take-out.”
“Sounds good. Won’t he get sore?”

The coin tips and teeters… gradually slowing itself. I watch intently as it flips and it slowly chooses its side.


A question to fs01 readers

I keep seemingly writing myself into a wall ever since Arc 6.  Part 64 has been in the works for four days now and sits at 4600 words but is still a ways from being ready.  Beyond that, I'm still hunting for ideas on where I want to take things.

I have a question (or three) for those that are reading (and hopefully enjoying) the story.  Are there any types of things or parts that you enjoy the most?   Are there any types of things you want me to avoid?  Are there any things that would make you more excited to read it?

I used to have a consistent amount of feedback from half a dozen readers or so and the answer to that question was so varied that felt right to just keep maintaining a balance of plot, characters, dynamics, play, sex, etc.

Since returning I've felt a lot less certain about my own process and a few of those readers I am no longer in contact with so I figured it is worth asking.

The fur fetish crowd continues to request having me describe every piece of fur clothing in 500+ words but I have continued to resist that request.  I am open to other ideas though. 

Friday, January 20, 2017

Nature vs. Nurture January 2017

In the comments of my Q&A post, Iain Quicksilver asked this question in the comments:  "Does this mean my crossdreaming is an implanted fetish, or could it be she was merely drawing out something already in myself?"

This brings up the long-standing question of Nature vs. Nurture.  I'm pretty sure most are familiar with this topic and anyone that has taken an Intro to Psychology course probably spent at least a week studying it at some point in time.

There are loads of case studies that provide support for either side and always a load of case studies that provide support to the contrary.  With that in mind, unless they discover a gene that is "responsible" for every minute variation and quirk in every human, I have to believe that we are a factor of both nature and nurture.

Things that we experience as trauma during our formative years does have the ability to affect how we will see the world for the rest of our lives.  Whether or not we are genetically predisposed to those events I cannot say.

It is my belief that childhood events are powerful but in most cases, it requires more than a singular occurrence to cause a fractured sense of self or a complete redefining of our self-image.  This is the great separator when differentiating between cases of abuse.  e.g. A child that is punished harshly once is disciplined.  A child that regularly treated consistently harshly without merit is abused.  In the former case, ideally the child creates an immediate negative association and learns to avoid that in the future.  In the latter, the child likely develops a state of helplessness and confusion, where they feel like they have no control over the outcome of situations.

The original comments that preceded the question:

"When I was small, my aunt set me up for crossdreaming by telling me I looked like a girl in a beret and then, when I didn't want to wear one, talking my father into making me wear it. Later she caught me masturbating and said she would tell my father. Not long after (I was probably about three at the time), my father and I were taking a walk, and as we rounded a corner, he stopped and said "I understand you've been playing with yourself down there. Better stop, or you'll turn into a girl." I was instantly filled with desire but disguised it as embarrassment. I'm sure my aunt advised him to say that, knowing full well what effect it would have on me. I am her creature."

I have only basic knowledge of the concept of crossdreaming, but from what I gather in its most simple definition, it is the state getting aroused at the idea of being the opposite gender (or adopting a mindset of the opposite gender).

There is a lot that can be drawn from the quoted blurb above.  What I could see happening through such events has the greatest impact on views of the genders.
The aunt, who is a woman, is powerful, in control, intelligent, capable of manipulating men/boys, and inflicting pain both directly and indirectly.
The father, who is a man, is easily influenced and while physically imposing, seems much less threatening as his role is to act as her instrument.  
Couple in a notion that masturbating, e.g. something done for pleasure to oneself, will inevitably lead to becoming female also creates a strange association.
I'm sure there is a lot more to this story, but that is what I would draw from what was written.

I could be wrong here, but it seems like a strong crucible for developing a timid/submissive male, confident/secure female type of a split... although as a genetic male, that sort of existence would likely result in painful/shameful crashes every time the mindset returns back to male. 

With that in mind and returning to the original question, evidence points towards nurture.  Whether or not something exists genetically making that more susceptible to happening, I cannot be sure, but I definitely wouldn't ignore t he possibility.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Q & A?

Just looking for some ideas to write about in between fiction.

If anyone has any questions for me, requests, or ideas, please feel free to leave a comment, use the contact form on the blog, or my email in my blogger profile, I'm always willing to consider requests for things to talk about.

Yes, this is me feeling starved for more contact/interaction :)

Emotional Relativism

In my younger days I never really understood just how things fit together in my life.  I always had a roof over my head, food on the table, and clothes on my back.

By the time I became "emotionally stable" in a sustainable sense most of my friends saw me as wise beyond my years as I was nearly always able to empathize and give advice on how to handle what life threw at them.  Being told that I'm wise has always felt a little bit silly.  Most of what I told them was simply looking at the bigger picture and obeying rules of common sense.

Around the age of 17 I still kept much of my pain buried deep within.  My friends all knew I was hurting.  If I let slip in what way or how close I was to checking out of this world they would grow worried.  A lot of them were afraid that they would be unable to return any advice to me... so they kept their distance.  Others tried their best and I loved them for it.  Someone caring about me meant more to me than someone having a magical answer to give me.  There was no magical answer.  Care was enough.

Around then I came up with the idea of emotional relativism.  It was during a period of sobriety that after a couple of years of numbing myself into feeling nothing I found myself craving to feel everything... good or bad.  This often meant facing my demons and since I was frequently the center of our social circle, these demons were sometimes on display.

Most people didn't think they could empathize with whatever I was feeling.  If a kid was white and his parent's weren't divorced and had never been abused, it was tough for them to understand being an orphan, abused, and the victim of bullying and racism.  By this time I had discovered something.  I'm not sure why it felt so ground-breaking at the time and I'm still not sure why more people haven't figured it out in their adult lives.

The primary principle of emotional relativism is that feelings aren't unique.  In most cases I believe that "the best feeling you've ever had" is probably the best feeling you've ever had.  While time and experiences may change what triggered said feeling, I don't believe our emotional spectrum really deviates much from that... we merely over-write our association with the memory.  Think along the lines of something that made you feel like you could take on the world... that you were walking on air... that the world smelled of wonderful flowers and full of hope.  I believe most people experience this dozens of times over their lifetime... the causes come and go but the feeling remains the same.

Similarly, I believe the "worst feeling you've ever had" works in a similar way.  This is the one that always hung people up with trying to relate to me when I was in a bad place.  "The world hurts and it will never get better."  I think everyone has felt this momentary pain at some point, whether it was the death of their pet as a child or watching a loved one as the life fades from their eyes.  The only difference between me and them was that this feeling wasn't momentary.  The loss of hope made it linger far too long... the "it will never get better" part became the harder burden to bear.  That being said, I would never claim that the depth of my sadness at a given moment was ever more painful than someone else's sadness during their worst feeling.  I simply had experienced more... my worst had been over-written more often than theirs by that age.

I think this is why I get so frustrated with politics, society, and the like.  People want to believe themselves to be special and unique in a way that they really aren't.  When I encounter someone of this nature and am able to reach an amicable discussion I am arrogant enough to boldly claim that I know exactly what makes them happy.  It goes a little something like this:  You are happy when you love and are loved.  You are happy when your present needs are met and you can plan for the future.  You are happy when you have hopes and dreams that you seek out and feel like they are attainable.  You are happy when your life feels fulfilled and meaningful.

Their response is often along the lines of "Well, duh, doesn't that make everyone happy?"  They put the ball on the tee and beg me to swing.  I usually give them a few seconds to put it together.  We aren't all that different from anyone else.  While the details may change, the deepest needs of our heart aren't unique at all.

The same can be said about our fears, our anger, our frustrations, and the like.  What I feel when I am angry is the same as what you feel when you are angry... but the details of what causes it may be different.

I always felt the world would be a better place if we could all see how similar we are to everyone else... but most people like to focus on the differences.  It's quite a shame to miss out on everything beautiful about people by getting hung up on minor details.

I will return to the topic of this post before I deviate beyond that.  I don't know why but I have never permitted myself to be okay with my own place in emotional relativism.  In my quest to be stronger I always cited others that were in a worse position than me in order to justify that I'm not feeling "as bad as humanly possible."  I had a friend that spent a few years on and off being homeless.  Under-educated single mother, siblings, living out of a car each time they would get evicted, often following a medical emergency.  I had a friend that grew up in Central America in a country run by an unstable military regime.  At 11 he threw a rock at a tank that had rolled into his town and was thrown in prison.  For several years he was beaten, tortured, and starved before being released and moving to the USA.  I had a friend whose mother went insane and for years she would whip them with coat hangers that she heated up on the stove until they were glowing red hot.  How could I justify feeling as bad as I did when I didn't have it "that bad."  I regularly beat myself up over that in an effort to be stronger.  I never allowed my emotions to be relative.

It is in this that I truly feel the extent of my damage.  I cannot forgive myself.  I cannot accept myself.  I cannot allow myself to be measured by reasonable standards.  As I write this I realize just how fucking unhealthy it is to feel this way but I have somehow managed to find a delicate balance in all of it.  The downside is that there are times that I feel my entire life is built up around continuing to exist... as if that is the best there is for me.  The odd thing is that this isn't depression talking... it's the inner-voice of my heart that continues to lead me down this path and I don't know why.

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Fiction: fs01 - Part 63

Author’s Note: This takes place about an hour after Part 62. It was originally intended to be part of 62 but both ended up running long.


At dinner, Mistress and Brittany talk about all sorts of things while I lurk in the background. Movies, books, television, music, fashion, shopping, vacations, and a lot of things that you hear new friends talk about while they get to know each other. They really have a lot in common.

After desert they return to the living room. The continuous wine keeps things loose and flowing.

“Have you ever had your foot tongued?”
“What the hell is that?”
“Like, a foot massage given with a tongue.”
“No. What’s it like?”
“Can I see you first and then decide?”
“Of course.”

Mistress snaps her fingers. I lie down with my head next to her feet and inch my body across the floor. I gently remove the slipper from her foot.
“With hands.”

I grasp her foot softly in my hands and begin with my normal massage technique, working my thumbs around the nerve zones. Carefully I raise my head and press my tongue at the top of her sole, where the toes meet the foot. I press more firmly and work my tongue in a massaging motion as my thumbs work her arch. I hear Mistress’s hand grip the armrest of the couch as she slouches back and moans.

I slide my tongue around, dragging it up each toe from base to tip. My hands move to the heel and outer edge. Mistress moans again as the sound of ruffled fabric finds my ears. My heart smiles knowing I give her pleasure. I’m a tad disappointed that in this position I can’t see her. Normally I do this while she lays in bed. Mistress’s breathing increases as she lets out a long sigh with a few pulsed cries in between.

“No fucking way.” I’m not sure what sort of expression Brittany has on right now.

I glide across the arch, swirling in gentle moving circles and spirals. The sound of friction continues with a fervor. Mistress begins to thrash and groan as I work my tongue back up her foot. I close my mouth over her pinkie toe. I suck and flick my tongue over its pad. She rubs furiously, undeterred by the presence of her guest. Her breaths heave in and out as as pulsed cry of pleasure signals me that she’s done. She pulls her foot from my grasp and wiggles it a few times. I return the slipper to her foot and plant a kiss.

I return to my knees in front of her.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You let your thoughts drift there, didn’t you?”

I hang my head in shame. I feel her hands take hold of each of my nipples. I nod vigorously. Too late. She digs in her nails and gives them a firm pinch and twist. I let out a whimpering cry before she releases.
“So disappointing. I’m trying to show off your talents to our guest and you can’t stay focused.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress.”
“Oh, you will be sorry, pet.”

Mistress sits back up in the couch.
“Are you ready, Brit?”

I glance up and watch as her face turns bright red and her mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. She raises her hands and contorts her fingers.
“Umm, maybe? Like, wow. Am I allowed to rub one out too? That’s okay, right?”

Mistress laughs a very hearty laugh.
“Would you prefer a toy?”

Her face lights up another shade as she ruffles her fingers through her hair.
“Aaaaagh. No. I mean yes. I mean no. I mean… yes, yes… definitely yes.”
“First time with an audience?”

Brittany places her palms over her eyes.
“Yes. Be Zen. I’m in my happy place. Be Zen. I’m in my happy place.”
“Would it be easier if I left the room?”
“Yes, definitely yes. Yes. Definitely.”
“But what if I want to watch?”
“God, Cass!”

Brittany presses her hands over her face and rocks forward at the waist. She quickly sits upright.
“Well just look at the time. This will definitely have to wait until next time.”
“You don’t have a car here.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know that!”
“Too much too soon?”

Brittany’s hands return to her face and she nods slowly. She slowly removes them but looks a bit flustered.
“Aren’t you… like… shy at all?”

Mistress laughs
“You do remember that I had you take pictures of me with an over-sized strap on on the verge of ravaging my pet?”

Brittany closes her eyes tightly and grits her teeth.
“Those turned out lovely, by the way. I could definitely hire you as a photographer if you decide you wish to start working.”

Mistress’s ability to change the subject and build someone up is astounding.

“Why don’t we head on down to the dungeon?”

Brittany nods slowly, her energetic self on break for the time being. All humor leaves my body as well. I know exactly what awaits me down those stairs.

I follow them to the stairs as Mistress gives her the mini-tour along the way. As Mistress takes the first step I hear her speak quietly.

“If you want to really fuck with him, now is the best time.”
“Why now?”
“In about five minutes he’s going to be screaming for his life.”

Brittany laughs so hard that she has to hold her sides. This does nothing to reduce my elevated pulse rate or rising temperature. Anticipation… is the worst. Mistress pours salt in the wound with her choice of conversation.

“Let’s see. He has 20 coming from this morning for attitude towards his uniform. 30 for disrespecting you and another 15 for losing focus. How many do you think he deserves for breaking your heart?”
“Is 1000 okay?”
“I’m pretty sure that many would kill him and your arm would fall off in the process.”
“Umm… I don’t really know how this works.”
“Why don’t we say, 20 per day until you’re no longer mad at him?”
“Sounds good to me, but I can stay mad a long time.”
“Oh, Brit, I love you.”
“When you say love…”
“As a person, yes. Don’t worry, little one. I’m not going to try to seduce you. However, if you come to me...”
“Umm… so 20. Got it. Awkward pause.”
“Did you really just say awkward pause out loud?”
“Uh, no. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I’m so lost in their interplay that I barely notice that we’re in the dungeon and Mistress is prepping the shackles. I lower my head and step over to the mark, raising my arms and positioning them so that Mistress can close and lock the shackles around my wrists. She repeats with the leg irons that are threaded through the bolted ring to the floor. Lastly, she lifts the back of my dress and secures it to the ring on my belt. I begin to perspire and my body trembles as I watch her casually pace over to the wall plate. The motor whirs, raising my arms above my head until I’m balancing on my toes.

“I totally am getting a girl crush on you, Cass. You’re like a superhero. A high-tech torture room. It’s like you’re a sadistic batman… batgirl… chick. Newsflash, I talk a lot when I’m a little uncomfortable. In case you were wondering. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed that by now but I’m sure you’ve noticed that by now.”

Mistress has me positioned in such a way that I can see what devices are being taken off the wall. I watch as she removes a 1” leather strap with a wooden handle. She hands it to Brittany.

“Go to town.”
“So I just like… hit him?”
“This isn’t your first time.”
“Well that time was birthday spankings right? This is like punishment.”
“Sort of. I like to think it more as clearing his conscience. He knows that he deserves them. He broke the rules and committed the wrongs. He’ll feel guilty unless we purge that guilt from him.”
“You sold me. So last time I had a paddle. With this one do I like...”
“Did you play tennis ever?”
“Try hitting him with a forehand.”

I hear her footsteps on the floor. I hear the air being displaced with a whir. The leather bites into my skin with a hard smack. I cry out and my body shakes against the metal bonds.
“Oh, shit.”

Step, tap, whir, smack. I scream and the chains rattle as I lose my balance and sway back and forth until I regain my footing. Step, tap, whir, smack. I cry and sob as the skin on my rear catches fire.
“Let’s see how two-handed goes.”

Step, tap, whir, SMASH. The breath shoots out of me with a yelp as I stagger under the stinging and throbbing pain.
“How do I stop feeling guilty?”
“There are multiple ways. You can whip faster, grow accustomed to it...”
“What do you use?”
“I learned to love it. His suffering turns me on… and the power… the power is just heavenly.”
“Interesting. Yes, the dark side is stronger.”
“See the swinging boy in front of you. He has disrespected you multiple times today and deserves to be punished. You are a beautiful Goddess who holds the power to judge what is right and wrong, cast down your sentence upon this insolent boy that dares to defy the Goddess.”

Step, tap, whir, SMASH. I cry a gargled yelp as my body shudders against the chains.
“Is it normal to be turned on by this?”
“Are you asking my permission?”
“Does this make you wet?”
“Of course. I’m almost angry that he has so many left to go that it will be forever until I can let him down and have him pleasure me. Are you wet?”
“So how many is that, 6?”

Mistress laughs as another crack of the strap strikes my bottom. I find myself leaning forward in my chains, attempting to inch away to no avail. Tears stream down my cheeks as I wail and cry out on each impact.

The strikes finally stop and I slump down, finally able to catch my breath.

“How do you feel?”
“I feel awesome.”

The way she shifts her pitch as she speaks would seem cute if I wasn’t in agony over my throbbing skin.

I just want to keep going. Kapow, kapow. Watching his back arch and his head fly back...”
It’s addictive, isn’t it?”

I watch as Mistress creeps closer to Brittany.
The feelings… are addictive… seductive… sensual...”

Brittany’s face turns bright red as Mistress drags her finger across her cheek.
Something something… personal space… something something.”

Mistress laughs again and removes her hand. I crack a hint of a smile from my exhausted face. Mistress is quite masterful at teasing when she wants to be.

Brittany hands Mistress the strap. She returns it to the wall and selects ‘the strap.’ The lesson teacher. The instrument of my training. I begin to whimper as she twirls it and taps it on her hand.

That one is like way longer and wider than the one I was using. Are you a size queen?”

Mistress laughs again.
You’ll have to work your way up to this one. It takes a certain level of proficiency or it can be a bit dangerous.”

Mistress vanishes from my view as she works her way around. I let out a small cry and grip the chains with my fingers. I feel her hand slide across my tender buttocks.
I’m impressed. The color of the marks and the swelling, I think you’ve found your calling.”

Brittany pumps her fist in the air.
Hooray me.”

Her hand leaves my skin. I take a deep breath and hold it. I can’t relax, I can only brace.

SMASH. A long bellowing cry leaves my mouth as my lungs expel all of the stored air. My body begins to slump as the second blow lands, causing me to recoil, thrash, and flex in vain.

Holy shit.”
My pet knows I never fuck around when it comes to what, pet?”

I sob out the words in small fragments.
Disrespect, Mistress.”
That’s right, pet. Disrespect.”

SMASH. I cry and shake, the metal digs into my wrists as I collapse forward, my feet unable to support me. I feel her hand on my belt, pulling me back to my toes. My preemptive whimper becomes as howl with the next blow.

See, Brit? I’ll bet you can almost forgive him for his earlier indiscretion.”
Almost. I still think you should keep going.”

SMASH. Under repeated blows I lose count as my voice grows hoarse and my muscle throb from the strain. Before long I find myself drifting in and out due to exhaustion.

My eyes focus as Mistress snaps her fingers in front of my face repeatedly. A straw enters my mouth and I take a sip of water. It feels so good as I can trace its path as it slides down the inside of my chest and into my stomach.

Take more.”

I slurp up another gulp.
Thank you, Mistress.”

As feeling returns my wrists are rubbed raw from the shackles. My legs can barely support me at all. My back, neck, and arms ache from the strain. My buttocks throbs and pulses as my lungs heave for air.

We’re going to carry the rest over to tomorrow, pet, but you know what that means.”
You add 10, Mistress.”

She returns to the wall and lowers the shackles. I collapse into a pile on the floor. I feel her touch as she cradles my head in her lap.
I’m so sorry, Mistress.”
I know you are, pet. Aren’t you forgetting someone?”
I’m so sorry, Miss Brittany.”
Hrm, do we need to add some more?”

I sob gently into her lap. I breathe deeply as her perfume fills my nose… the familiar scent makes me feel safe.
Do you always do that with him?”
This is what is called aftercare. It’s an important ritual that solidifies the bonds between a Mistress and her sub and helps to drive home the lessons you hope that he will learn. Dominique doesn’t believe in it. I tend to save it for when I’ve really hurt him.”

I think I get it. Just because you are a sadist and like to hurt him, that doesn’t mean you don’t love him and care about his well being.”
And tomorrow, he will accept his punishment willingly, I will hurt him badly, and we’ll do this again.”
How long do you let him recover for?”
Until he can stand.”
Do you take it easy on him after that?”
Of course not. Why go to all the trouble to break his spirit if you aren’t going to push him farther?”
Wait, what?”

Is there anything you would like to do or see? Your blush says yes.”
Ugh, you can’t put me on the spot like that.”
Well… a couple of things… god… why is this so hard?”
Relax. I doubt you can name anything that we don’t already do regularly.”

I hear Brittany sigh from across the room.
Well… I kinda… want to see what pegging is like. And I also read something about milking and that got me curious.”

I let out a small groan.
That’s my girl.”
Mistress pets the fur on my collar. I rise slowly and my sobs begin anew.

Why is he crying again?”
Aha, it’s because you picked his least favorite activity in the world. Just look at how docile and obedient he is after a good beating.”

I keep my head down as I walk gingerly to the horse and climb on.
Brit, would you be a doll and lock his wrists and ankles down.”
If he’s so obedient why does he need locks?”
Hrm. I thought that maybe you could tell me. I suspect some kind of trauma. It’s stronger than his desire to please me. We use the locks to keep him from unconsciously disappointing me.”
Well, we did shove things up there before but nothing that would have probably… oh shit. I totally forgot. The day that Courtney got dumped.”

I continue sobbing as she fastens my wrists and ankles to the horse.

Yeah. Now I remember. My friend Courtney got dumped by her boyfriend after he had been cheating on her and we got drunk at my house after school. When fur sissy arrived she just went off on him. She started slapping his face, kicked him in the balls, just brutalized him. After that she handcuffed him, crammed a ball of my socks into his mouth and pulled a pair of pantyhose over his head. She was mad when he could still see so then she added a pillow case… and another pillow case… and then pulled a plastic bag over his head. I made her poke a hole in it so he wouldn’t die. She cut off his pants and underwear with a pair of scissors and duct taped his ankles to the dresser. Chloe and I had no fucking clue what she was going to do, she just went crazy.”

I begin to weep as the memories of that day return in full force.

I’m guessing something ended up inside of him?”
Oh, shit yeah. She went and got the icy hot from my stepdad’s bathroom and lubed up the handle of a hairbrush. She started jamming that brush up his butt. He was screaming and trashing so she sat on his back while she did it. Once she got tired of it she just left it in him and then took a handful of icy hot and rubbed it all over his cock and balls. The bag kept making these crinkling noises as he screamed and gasped for air. It was really fucked up.”
Did she untie him after that?”
No. She drunk dialed her boyfriend and when he hung up she pulled the brush out, lubed it up again and kept going. She was so pissed that every time he stopped screaming she just kept putting more icy hot on his junk and stuff. This was over like six hours. God, we were so mean. I remember we made him walk home with a garbage bag with holes cut in it instead of pants.”

I continue weeping quietly on the horse. I figure that story gave enough time for Mistress to harness up.
You’re in for a little treat, Brit. This is a two-fer.”
So after hearing that story you’re still going to do it?”
Of course. My pet knows how much I like it and now he knows that you want to see it. This is completely consensual. Right, pet?”
Yes, Mistress.” I sniffle.

I feel the lubed silicon work its way between my thighs. My sobbing begins on instinct. I whisper my anal mantra quietly.
Please don’t do this please don’t do this please don’t do this.”

Yeah. Totally consensual. Got it.”

She violates me. My head tilts back and I let out a long cry. I hear Mistress exhale aggressively through her nose as she pumps her hips and lets out a gasp of pleasure with every thrust. I try to relax as my body shakes and quivers, unable to control itself.

Slap, slap, slap, the sound of her hips against mine echoes through the dungeon. The tears flow from my eyes as I make continuous gurgling noises against the sobs. Mistress picks up her pace and begins to pound, crying out with each thrust. I feel her hands tighten around my waist. Her juices run onto my thighs.

I whimper and cry as I feel the warm fluid ooze into the tube of my belt.
There’s… the… milk...” Mistress finds enough breath to speak each word between breaths.

I notice Brittany to the side of me, watching in awe as the fluid dribbles into the floor.
You’re still going?”
Until… I… cum...”
That’s really fucking hot.”
So… hot… It’s… the best.”

Mistress’s pleasure calls and the sound of flesh on flesh completely drown out my feeble cries. The pain and throbbing begins to build as she jackhammers inside of me. The spikes dig into my wrists as I fight against the locks. I flail my arms and legs, hoping this will all be over.
I… love… fucking… you… pet.”

She slams up against me once… twice… three times. Her moans sputter as I feel her juices soak the backs of my legs. I feel Mistress slowly withdraw. My rear tingles and throbs. I hear her breaths slowly stabilize behind me.

Umm… Cass… is it okay if I borrow another massager?”
Of course dear… unless you’d rather have a go at him.”
Oh shit. Noway noway noway. Too much, too soon. Let me fantasize about it a few times first.”

I feel the locks release and I slide off the horse in a heap on the floor. I gather my bearings and crawl towards Mistress’s feet. I lower my head and plant a kiss, first the right foot, then the left.

So how does milking work?”
It’s quite simple really. You massage the prostate and it just comes out.”
Is it like an orgasm?”
I’ve heard about people having an orgasm that way but I doubt my pet has one. If he took any pleasure in it I’d have to find another way to milk him.”
So you love that he hates it?”
Why did you buy handcuffs when you were in high school?”
To restrain his hands.”
To restrain his hands isn’t the answer?”
Do you think he would have tried to fight you off without them?”
So what’s the real reason?”
To make him feel powerless and uncomfortable.”
Didn’t that turn you on? Make you feel naughty? Exhilarated?”
Well, yes.”

Mistress laughs.
I think you understand it perfectly.”
So if he loved it, you wouldn’t peg him?”
I won’t say never, but probably not nearly as often as I do. The fact that he hates it makes it all the more special to me that he accepts it willingly.”
Now that is deep… but I get that completely. I felt the same way back then.”

What’s it like with that thing on?”

I look up and watch Mistress stroke the strap on.
It depends who I’m using it on. With my pet this is my tool of violation. It belittles him and empowers me. It reduces him to a hole that I use to get off. When I use it on a woman… it’s a tool of mutual pleasure. I want her to cum and the harder I try, the better it feels for me, too. It really is quite amazing.”

Brittany ruffles her hair with her fingers and begins sputtering words at a rapid pace.
“Just friends. I’m not a lesbian. It’s okay to flirt. Personal space. Just friends.”

Mistress chuckles.
“My dear, I have to say that today has been the most fun I have had in a very long time. You are wonderful and I’m glad that you are my friend.”
Brittany smiles and blushes.
“I’m really glad I met you, Cass. Really. Thank you.”

“So now what? Do you want me to give you a ride home? Is there anything you’d like to try?”

Brittany smiles sheepishly. I watch as she draws a circle on the floor with her toe.
“Well… there is something I’d like to try. If it’s okay with you. I actually did it to him once before but I’m not sure he knew what was going on.”
“As long as his chastity belt stays on and it doesn’t permanently injure him, sure… but… you have to let me watch.”
“Oh fuck. There’s always a catch. Well, when I did this Chloe and Courtney were in the room, so I guess I could try to channel my rebellious 17-year old self and say fuck it.”

I watch as Brittany scans the room.

“I need some way to hog tie him, a gag that forces him to breathe out of his nose, and a blindfold.”

Mistress hands her a few things from the table.
“Whaaaaat? They actually make a hog-tie? We had to use a couple of pairs of pantyhose and we duct taped his mouth shut and over his eyes. I feel so low-tech.”
“Duct tape over his eyes? Wouldn’t that take his eyebrows off when you removed it?”
“Ha, no. Only half of his eyebrows… give or take… a few patches.”

Mistress laughs heartily.
“Also… do you have something soft to lay on? Or head to a different room?”

Mistress motions to me and I fetch the bearskin rug from the laundry room and lay it out on the floor. With the gag and blindfold in place, I find myself hog-tied and completely helpless. I stay intently focused, worried about what is to come.

“Do you want me to leave my panties on?”
“It’s up to you.”
“Well, I actually think it feels better with them on, and I’m totally not just saying that.”

Mistress laughs again.

I feel a hand lift my head firmly by the harness. A leg across my back, then another. I inhale through my nose and detect a very strong, very close scent of unfamiliar sex. A moment later, pressure against the earmuffs on my harness. Intense pressure. The legs pull in on my back and head, the pressure on the sides of my head must be thighs. My nose presses firmly against some moist silky fabric. A downward tug on my head presses my nostrils closed. No air.

I begin to tug and struggle with my head. The grip holds firm. I shake and spam my face violently against the wetness and silk. A series of low moans resound from above my head. I pull. I shake. Can’t breathe. The pressure relaxes and I gasp for air through my nose, her scent fills me completely.

I barely catch my breath when the pressure resumes, burying my face into her. The series of shakes and spasms, fighting against her grip continues. She pulls me in, I wiggle my head from side to side. Her moans become a pulse of cries. Air. I gasp for air as the releases her grip. Two breaths, another tug.

Help me. Someone. I struggle, the more I struggle the harder she pulls, the deeper she moans, the harder she grinds her sex into my face. She begins to pulsate with her tugs and leg flexes in a rhythm, forcing my face in again and again. My nose absorbs her scent and wetness as I gasp for air and struggle to free myself when I cannot breathe. She cries out and bucks her hips repeatedly. Her legs tighten a final time. Her juices coat my face.

She releases me from her grip. My chest heaves for air. The scent of her sex lingers in my nostrils. As Brittany’s breathing slows, the sound of Mistress panting fills my ears. I can hear the sound of friction, the lube on the strap on. She must be masturbating with it.
“That… was… so… hot.”

A few moments later Mistress lets out a small cry as she cums. I feel Brittany move away. I slump my face down into the fur rug. I am exhausted… in every way imaginable.

“I’m impressed. I would file that under an ‘advanced technique.’”
“How did you just cum?”

Mistress laughs.
“This style of strap-on goes inside of me on the other end. When you apply force against it, the back end pushes on my g-spot. I believe the inventor deserves some sort of prize. Well, that and your orgasm was just so hot and the way my little pet struggled all helpless like that.”
“I had to ask.”

“Do you mind spending the night tonight? I really don’t feel like driving. I just want to relax in the bath. I have a couple of guest rooms… unless you’d like to share my bed with me.”
“Just friends… personal space… not a lesbian.”
“Oh, dear, you’re almost as much fun to tease as my pet. Separate rooms, just friends. I can lend you a toy.”
“That’d be fine.”

I make a small grunting noise as I rattle my wrists and ankles. The spikes are becoming painful as they dig in while in this position.
“Should we unlock him?”
“Do we have to?”
“No, we could leave him like this all night if you want to.”

I begin to whimper and pout from behind the gag.
“It almost sounds like he’s laughing, doesn’t it?”

I buck my elbows and rock my body from side to side.
“Oh, pet. So much fun to tease.”