It’s too late to pry your cock’s Ownership away from you, since you already have my heart too. ;.; Take good care of it, thanks.

*Julia is referred to as ‘Daddy’ by Sergie in the story because that is a title that we both enjoy him using and in no way denotes gender for us.

Cuck and Bulls

“Do you remember Olivia from the socials?” he asked as he knelt in front of her. “The one with the long black hair.” Julia wasn’t so good about remembering actual names of people. Instead, she remembered them by kink, by fetish, by scenes. She remembered the sounds they made when they were getting hurt or by the costumes that they wore. Every now and again, if one was especially attractive, she would remember what they looked like by description. Sergie waited for her respond but when she didn’t, he let out a soft sigh and glanced up at her. “You said she was so cute you wanted to keep her in a cage under your bed.”

Julia immediately perked up. “Oh, yes. I remember her. What about her?”

“Well, we’ve been talking a bit and we’re both kind of shy and quiet and we both have a lot of the same interests and I was wondering if it would be okay if I asked her out on a date,” he stammered.

She tilted her head to examine the boy that she had at her feet. He was thin and wiry, not unattractive but certainly of a certain “type”. That wasn’t what made her squint at him like he may have lost his mind though; below the waist, around his cock, he wore a solid steel chastity device. The device was locked and there was only one key in the world that would unlock it — the one around her neck. For most, dating was about taking someone out, showing them a good time, and hoping they could get them in bed after. Since that wasn’t going to happen here, she wasn’t entirely certain his angle.

“I know it sounds silly Daddy, but I’ve never really dated before and it’s not that I want to, you know, sleep with her,” he said sheepishly as he looked up at her, cheeks starting to flush. “I just want to ask her out, get dinner, and say we went on a date. You know?”

Julia looked back down at her magazine in her lap, considering his request. “Alright. But you have to buy her some kind of pretty jewelry to give her on your first date.”

“Really?” he sounded surprised. “Okay. Thank you, Daddy!” he said before leaning down to kiss the tops of her feet, one by one.

“Time for bed,” she said as she stood up, beckoning him to follow behind her. Once they were in his room, she tucked him into bed and kissed him on the forehead. “When will you be going on this date?”

“Saturday. I was thinking six o’clock.”

“Sweet dreams, Sergie,” she said as she let herself out of his room and his house.

When Saturday rolled around, Sergie spent the afternoon cleaning up his house. He made sure everything was neat and tidy the way that Julia preferred it. There were certain rules that he had to adhere to and he knew that she would be around the next day to ensure that he had followed all of her instructions. When the doorbell rang an hour early, he was surprised. As he opened the door, he started apologizing for not being ready on account of thinking their date was at six o’clock but was promptly silenced by a more familiar voice.

“Oh, Daddy!” But his excitement died down into fretting. “I didn’t know you wanted to see me today. Do you want me to call Olivia and cancel my date with her?”

“No,” Julia said as she pushed past him into the house. “I just thought that since you were going out, we ought to clean your chastity device.”

“Oh, okay,” he answered, closing the door behind her.

She led him up the stairs to his bedroom and pulled out the chair that they used for when they did this particular ritual. “Strip,” she instructed and he carefully removed all of the nice clothing he’d chosen for his date and laid it out neatly on the bed where it wouldn’t wrinkle. Then, he moved over to sit down in the chair as he knew he was supposed to do. From there, he felt her wrap the leather restraints around his wrists and ankles and felt pressure on his joints as she pulled his arms together to lock them behind his back and ankles to the legs of the chair. Next came the hood. This one was made of just thin spandex — enough that he couldn’t really see much out of it but not thick enough to impair speech or his hearing. Finally, she removed her necklace and unlocked the chastity device from around his cock, being very gentle about opening the cage and sliding the ring from his body. He gave an audible sigh of relief when he felt his body free of the contraption, but the breath was soon caught in his throat when he also felt her hand running along the length of his cock, warming him up, encouraging his erection.

Before he could enjoy it too much, she was gone. Behind him was the bathroom where she washed out the device thoroughly. She returned with a wash cloth and towel. She draped the cloth across the palm of her hand and stroked the length of his cock, cupped his balls in her hand, scrubbed behind them, and tried to get her fingers all the way to his ass, just to watch him squirm. After so many days in chastity, it was easy to understand why such little stimulation caused him to leak at the very tip of his cock, which elicited such a giggle from her that he couldn’t help but smile beneath his spandex hood. Toweling him off came quicker and was not quite as gentle. Then it was the waiting game. They’d spent many afternoons stuck at this phase, waiting for him to stop being excited about having her right in front of him, feeling her hands on his cock. They’d tried many different methods of dealing with it, from having to unlock him to have him do it to spanking his cock whenever it started to show signs of an erection. Today she was just going to let him fight it mentally. After all, she would have a great time explaining to his date that he wasn’t ready because she couldn’t get his cock back in the chastity device.

Eventually he was able to get himself under control and the very second that he did, he felt the steel slide up around his cock again. He felt the cage lock around it. He felt her leaning in to make sure everything was looking the way it should, that the device was securely locked, and that nothing was pinching. Pressing her hands into his thighs, she pushed herself up from her crouched position and began to look around the room.

“Where is the present that you bought for Olivia?”

“On my nightstand. It’s in the pink and green bag. I bought her a necklace.”

“You always do,” she mused as she walked to the night stand and pushed the tissue paper aside to see what kind of necklace he’d chosen. He usually had good taste in jewelry, assuring that he matched styles to individuals and never going for anything too mainstream. “This ought to do,” she said quietly as she picked the bag up. “Oh, would you look at that? Five til.”

Making her way over to him, she patted him on the head and grinned. “I’ll be back in a little while. You stay put.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of what she’d said or the fact that he was still restrained to a chair without any clothes on when his date was supposed to be there in five minutes. Surely she would release him, let him get dressed. He was certain she was just going to embarrass him a little, make him a little late, wait to see what he came up with to tell Olivia. But when he heard her leave his room, go down the stairs, he started to worry. When the doorbell rang and he heard her open that door and two voices carried through the empty halls, he started to get nervous. The only sound that could be worse than that would be two sets of footsteps coming up the stairs. Barring that, the sound of the door closing and not hearing anything. It was the latter that he received. His stomach dropped. The waiting game. This was not a new game for him.

In the still and dark of the bedroom, there was little else for him to do but worry and sleep. He did his fair share of both. Finally, he heard the door. As soon as it opened, he perked up. When it closed and there were no voices, he began to worry. The sound of footsteps hurrying up the stairs reassured him for a moment but he wondered what if it were someone other than Daddy. What would they think? What if it was Olivia? Would she laugh at him? Would he like it if she laughed at him? His cock twitched in the chastity device. Maybe. Maybe just a little bit.

Before he could lose himself in a world of fantasy, the hood was yanked off of his head and he blinked a few times, unused to any kind of light. His Daddy stood before him, looking quite pleased with herself.

“I had a great date, thank you. She really liked the present that I got her, but I don’t think it was pretty enough for her.” Without another word, she went to his closet and dragged out the kennel that they had used from time to time. Then, she reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. From his desk she got tape, and she taped a picture of Olivia at the very end of the kennel, the part that was facing the bed. Going to his chair, she unlocked his arms and made sure he moved them slowly. A long drawn out sigh of relief came from him when the pressure was relieved from his shoulders. Next came his ankles, and he took the liberty of flexing his feet and pressing them against the floor. Before he could get too comfortable though, she escorted him to the kennel and put him inside. A small box containing her leftovers was shoved inside and then she closed the door and locked it. A bottle was hooked to the outside of the cage, the nozzle shoved between the bars so that he could drink at his leisure.

“Daddy, what if I have to pee?” he asked quietly. Sometimes she was sweet and would walk him out so he could. Sometimes though, sometimes she was just mean. The grin on her face gave him the answer he needed and he opened the box of leftovers and buried his face inside. He was starving.

Just in front of the kennel, but out of sight of Sergie because of the picture she’d taped up for him to stare at, she started to undress. “Olivia is just as gorgeous as you thought she was. When she laughs, her tits bounce just a little.” Just a little because she had small breasts, a selling point to Julia. As she talked, she crawled into Sergie’s bed and he heard the tell-tale sign of her rummaging in his nightstand drawer. There was a vibrator she kept in there for when she spent the nights. “Her laugh is so quiet and her smile so bright. It’s a nice contrast to all that long, black hair.” Now he could hear the familiar buzz from the toy that he had bought for her when she declared his cock “unsatisfactory”. “Which is as thick as you’d think it is. I know, because I ran my hand up in there, grabbed a fistful of it, and yanked her head back to give her a kiss. She almost melted into my arms when I did it.” Sergie had no doubt that she did. “In order to prevent her from falling, I had to shove her up against the door. My hand may have accidentally slid up her skirt some when that happened.” Her words weren’t coming out as smoothly as before. Her breathing was a little more labored. The buzzing of the vibrator was as insistent as she was on having an orgasm. “I may have left a mark on her neck,” she said breathlessly. Then, as the words fell away from her and she concentrated only on getting off, she offered one last tidbit: “I can still smell her on my fingers.”

Now would have been a great time to not be in chastity. His cock was pushing against the metal confines of the device. His arms and legs pressed against the metal confines of the kennel. Taking a deep breath, he could smell her in his room. He was hoping she wouldn’t make him wash his sheets in the morning. There was nothing he wanted more than to curl up in bed, his head where he knew she rested, breathing in her scent. “I’m glad you had a good time Daddy,” he said genuinely.

“Me too,” she answered before putting the vibrator back in the drawer. “Now, I want you to look at that picture of Olivia. I snapped it on my phone as she was driving. We were talking about you when she started laughing. I want you to think of something prettier to buy her for your next date with her. What you got her this time wasn’t good enough.”

“Okay Daddy,” he answered, but he doubted she even heard him. Her ability to fall asleep immediately after orgasm was amazing.

As the sun streamed in through the windows, Sergie could only think about one kind of golden stream. He knew that she wouldn’t be pleased if he pissed in the kennel but he wasn’t sure how much longer his bladder was going to allow him to hold it in. Earlier, he’d tried shifting around in his kennel, hoping that he would wake her. She might be upset for a minute but it was likely that she would take him out. When that failed, he started rolling around in the kennel the best that he could. Still nothing. He knew that she was capable of a deep sleep, especially when the sleep was orgasm induced, but surely she had to understand how badly he needed out. Surely he could convey this thought to her telepathically and she would suddenly sit up in bed. No such luck. He started counting. If he counted down from 100, backwards, and made it to zero without waking her, he was just going to have to piss all over the floor of this kennel. He’d just have to stay on all fours in it until she woke up. He’d have to take the pan into the shower with him and clean it up. He’d have to hope none of it would get in the carpet, or he’d have even more to clean. So he started from 100.

99.

98.

97.

By the time that he got to 45, he thought every internal organ in his body was cramping up. Was the liver attached to the bladder at all? He was positive it was cramped. His kidneys were certainly not pleased with him. A spleen or two might even join in on the fight. As he wound down the countdown, the precious few left to speak in his head, he heard her shift in bed. 5! Now he wasn’t even sure he wanted her to wake up. At 5, he could certainly piss faster on his own than it would take for her to get him out of the kennel and take him out. A groan. Four! So close! He was positive that his muscles were starting to relax in anticipation of letting the flow free. Now he was positive she was awake and he knew he should stop but he was so close. Certain even his eyeballs were floating, he refused to open them. Feet hit the floor. Dammit! Two! Shuffling. One! Hands on the door. Oh sweet gods in the heavens, he wanted to just let loose and pee everywhere. The lock came off. He told his body it was a false alarm. It took forever to get everything clamped up, dammed up again. It hurt more to shut it down than anything and he let out a soft whimper.

“Mm,” she muttered as she rubbed her eyes. “Let me get your leash.”

Sweet Jesus in Heaven, he would follow behind her as obedient as any dog known to man. He would stay two steps behind and to the left perfectly, even down the stairs, if she would just let him crawl on all fours behind her without the leash. Where was it? Draped over the chair? Hanging from the closet doors? He couldn’t even remember where it had been put last and she didn’t sound like she was in any hurry to find it.

“How did you sleep?”

There were no words. If he opened his mouth, he was sure urine would shoot out it. Instead he groaned and whimpered and pawed at the floor outside of the kennel where the door hung open. He kicked a foot against the back of the kennel. He made the most pitiful sounds any human dog had ever created.

“Oh good, because you weren’t supposed to sleep at all.”

Eyes closed, head pulled back, he kept his neck presented to her perfectly so that she could clip the leash to his collar immediately. There was some fumbling. He felt like every time she missed the D-ring, she was directly jabbing into his bladder until it was a steady stream of whimpers coming from him. Then came the familiar tug. He exited the kennel and scurried across the floor until he ended up choking himself on the length of the leash.

“Oh, did you need to piss? Real bad? Is that what you’re trying to tell me Lassie?”

He froze. His head lifted and he looked at her with the most pitiful look he could manage and then hurried back behind her, striking a pose of immaculate obedience. Show quality. Head held high. Legs parted enough that anyone could see his balls hanging between them. Chest stuck out. Smug expression.

Now she laughed at him. That was the perfect way to signal just how badly he wanted something. Sergie was sweet, and well-trained, but he didn’t often actually do what she expected of him. To see him posed so perfectly behind her illuminated just how badly he needed to go. So she actually hurried. Not too fast. She didn’t want him to think that she was concerned he would pee all over the floor. Just enough that it wasn’t the typical leisurely stroll through the house that she did whenever she knew he wanted something real bad. As the sliding door opened and he shoved one hand through, she tsk’d him and he froze again. Cocking his head to the side, he opened his mouth and began to pant, looking to her, waiting for the cue.

“Okay,” she released him from the leash and watched him bolt into the yard. He never lifted a leg, because he’d been taught that such an action was too masculine for him, and instead squatted. Squatted and pissed a stream for so long she had considered timing it for a book of records. When he was finally finished, after he’d gained some composure, she let him back in the house.

“You stay down here and make breakfast. I’m going to go take a bath and get ready. We’re going to have guests today.”

As soon as he was given orders that contradicted his ability to remain on all fours, he started to rise, which meant he could speak again. “Yes Daddy.”

Breakfast was eggs, toast, sausage, and hash browns. He made only one plate and served it at the end of the table. When Julia came down fully dressed, the first thing he noticed was that she was wearing a low-cut shirt. Between her breasts rested the key to his chastity device. Again he was reminded that his cock was being restrained by metal, and not in a very kind way. She took her place at the table and he knelt on the floor next to her chair. When she was done eating, she mushed everything together in a fine paste and set the plate on the floor for him to eat from. When he was done, he stood and went to do the dishes. She said she had a few things she needed to finish up and returned to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. Sergie was putting the finishing touches on the kitchen but scurried to the door immediately. When he opened it, he was greeted by a cheerful looking older man, with streaks of grey in his hair that matched his eyes. He stood a few inches taller than Sergie and several inches thicker than him, but he looked athletic. He offered a hand and Sergie shook it before figuring out who he was. “Devin,” he accused him.

The gentleman laughed. “It would seem so, yes. May I come in?”

Sergie moved out of the way to let him in. So this was the man he was spending so many nights on the floor for. Daddy had told him that anytime she spent the night with Devin, he had to sleep on the floor. Her reasoning had been that everything that he owned, she owned, on account of owning him. Since she was letting Devin spend the night with her in her house, and there was only room for one in her bed, Sergie had to sleep on the floor — despite living in a completely different house. Perhaps it was because she had hoped to one day have her whole poly family under one roof. Maybe it was because he’d been stupid and in a moment of weakness admitted to her that he thought it was hot. Regardless, he’d spent a fair share of nights on the floor thinking about all the sex Devin and his Daddy would have in the bed right next to him if they did all live together. A terrible, wonderful, painful thought for any boy in chastity.

Julia soon came down the stairs and Sergie watched as they lit up at seeing each other. In another moment, they were in a tight embrace, fingers wandering over the contours of bodies, mouths pressed together as if they were breathing as one. Now he really wondered what it would be like to be next to their bed while they were fucking. As they broke apart, Julia made introductions and then took Devin by the hand and led him upstairs. Sergie followed behind, unsure of what else she would want him to do.

Once inside the bedroom, Julia took the small bag that Devin had in his other hand and instructed Sergie to clean the bathroom. “Stay in there cleaning something until I tell you to come out,” she said sternly. “But leave the door open.”

The kennel had already been pushed back into the closet and in its place was the infamous chair. They stood in front of it, paying it no mind. For now, she was running her fingers over his shoulders, down his arms. As her fingers passed his, he caught them, gave a gentle squeeze, his eyes alight with amusement. Her hands went to his chest, spreading from his heart out to his sides and dropping her hands to his waist. Then she leaned up and pressed a kiss to his mouth. Their breath stopped together as she ran her fingers against the outside of his pants, right between their bodies. He tried to push up against her, to rub against her, but she kept him at bay. A soft whimper came from him, but he knew that he’d get more soon enough. She unfastened the button on his pants, slid the zipper down as slowly as she could, and then wrapped her hand around the warm steel that encased his cock as well. From between the slits of the device she felt the warm silken flesh of an erection try to press through. A soft laugh bubbled over into their kiss and she parted from his mouth, pushed his pants all the way down, and then pushed him down into the chair.

“Let’s get you out of that so we can have some real fun,” she teased him. The key to his device was carefully tucked in her pocket and as she crouched between his legs, she gave him a good view down his shirt. In order to make getting the device off easier, he had to tip his head back, think of baseball, and ignore the fact that she was intentionally stroking at the strips of flesh trying so hard to escape the device.

Once the steel was removed and set on the ground, she hooked her fingers at the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up as she stood over him. She tousled his hair, then took him by the hand, and led him to the bed. At first they just kissed, but then his mouth wandered to her neck, to the bare parts of her breasts. His hands were moving down her stomach and to her pants, where he silently asked permission to unfasten them and the gleam in her eye and the smile on her face told him all he needed to know. He repositioned himself so that he was sprawled out on his belly between her legs and pulled her pants down just far enough that he could get his mouth where he wanted it to be. He kissed through her sheer panties first, letting her feel the warmth of his breath against her already moist lips, and then he pulled them out of the way as well. When his tongue found her clit, she let out a low, deep moan. As his fingers probed inside of her, she started to breathe a little heavier. The combination of the both was absolutely divine, but when he pushed deep inside of her, pushed her clit deeper into his mouth, she thought she could die of pleasure.

From the bathroom, all he could hear was the sound of sucking and the sounds of his Daddy in pleasure. His cock was throbbing inside of the device. There was nothing more to clean. She had to have known it wasn’t going to take long. Now, he was just sitting against the wall next to the open door wishing he could stroke off to the sounds of her having an orgasm. The steel certainly wasn’t going to allow for that to happen though.

Because he’d been taught just how she liked oral, it didn’t take her long at all. Her fingers curled in his hair and she gave a quick tug right before she came, so he knew to keep doing exactly what he was doing. She pressed her hips up against his face and he let out a soft groan when she did. The vibration of his voice against her already sensitive pussy was enough to send her into orgasm. She came hard, holding him in place until the last of the pleasure washed away. When she settled back on the bed and opened her eyes, she released him so he could pull away from her body. He slid his fingers from inside of her and put them in his mouth, licking them clean. Before he could do anything else, she pulled him in for a kiss, running her tongue against his lips and breathing in her scent.

Before he moved away from her completely, he pressed himself up against her, letting her feel just how aroused he was. That smirk was on his face, the want in his eyes, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Soon, Devin. Soon.”

Soon indeed. Moments later, the doorbell rang again.

“Daddy,” Sergie started, but he was interrupted with a firm ‘No’.

Devin crawled out of bed and put on his pants and smoothed out his hair before he headed down the stairs to answer the door. Julia situated her clothing once more and then pushed the bathroom door open to reveal the very horny boy squirming around on the floor, fingers tapping against his knees, teeth digging into his lower lip.

“Would you like to come out now?” she asked, a smile on her face.

“Yes Daddy!” he answered, leaning over to hug around her legs first.

“Alright. Take off all of your clothes and then go to the chair.”

For a moment, his face fell. Then he stood up and stripped as quickly as he could, folding his clothes neatly and leaving them on the sink. He walked over to the chair, his wrists going around behind the back of it, his toes pressing into the carpet alongside the legs of it. He knew this position well. Inside of his closet she retrieved the rope that was kept there and tied his wrists together, then to the back of the chair. She tied each ankle to a leg of a chair. With his legs spread wide, it was easy to see he was locked up. He hung his head, waiting for the hood, but it never came. Curious, he glanced up at her. “Not this time,” she said, glancing over to the doorway when Devin strode through again. He was wearing one of those smiles like Daddy often wore, the kind that said he was up to no good.

From the toy bag that he brought with him, Julia found the cuffs that Devin normally wore when they played together. Then, she withdrew the thick leather hood that was one of their favorite toys. He had to kneel in order for her to put it on with any accuracy, and accuracy was important as there was only one hole in the entire hood, meant to align perfectly with his mouth. Once it was situated on his head with all of the pads lined up properly, she stood behind him and started to lace. Because of this, she was able to get the hood very tight on him. The world to him was very dark and very quiet in this hood and that was exactly what she wanted. The loss of senses made him all the more sensitive to touch. One buckle came around his neck and held the end of the lace in place. Another came across the back of the head. Another across the top of the head. Four locks in total were needed to ensure that this hood was going nowhere. Four locks were needed to ensure he couldn’t remove his restraints. After another moment on the floor, on his knees, hooded and cuffed, she tugged on the D-ring of his collar and he shuffled towards her, towards the bed, and got up on it of his own accord.

He sat in the middle of the bed, disoriented for a moment. While he got his bearings, Julia stood right in front of Sergie and began to undress. Never before had he had the privilege of seeing her completely nude. She took off her top and undid her bra, revealing the large breasts that his key was often nestled between, the soft curve of her belly. As she slid her pants down, his eyes followed over her hips, down to her naked mound where he wanted to put his mouth, just like Devin had been allowed to do, down past her thighs and calves to her feet, to her toes, where his mouth belonged. He took in a deep breath and then looked up at her, adoration in his eyes. She didn’t linger for long though, not when she had a naked slave in the bed waiting for her.

Devin was pushed back against the pillows and Sergie was treated to a show as she pressed her mouth against his neck, against his shoulders, against his chest. Her lips caught one nipple between them and then the other. Her fingers were trailing over all of his exposed flesh, all of his scars, teasing in circles around his erect cock, though never actually touching it. She rubbed her face against his hip, dragged her fingers through his pubic hair, and the pressed the flat of her palm against the shaft of his cock, watching as he immediately lifted his hips into her, trying to get more sensation. A laugh came from her, one that she knew Sergie laughed, and she flicked at the head of his cock, causing him to recoil in pain. Soon enough though, she was kissing it better. Now he had to do his very best not to push at all, to lie perfectly still. If there was one thing that he had learned with Julia, it was that if he tried to get her to take more of him into her mouth, he’d go for a very, very long time without ever feeling it again.

Giving oral sex was just like a big game of tease and denial for Julia. She didn’t care so much about getting her victim off as she cared about making sure he was turned on. She drew lazy circles around the head of his cock. She pulled him in deeper to her throat and suckled him gently for a while. When she was really trying to arouse him, she would flick her tongue against that sweet spot under the head as she used her hands to stroke the rest of his cock. She switched from taking him deep into her mouth and slowly dragging up his shaft to bobbing shallowly on just the head of his cock while her hands did all the work. One was often cupping his balls, squeezing gently as she encouraged him down her throat. The gasps were muffled but there was still plenty of noise coming out of him and that was all she needed. When his whimpering and struggling to remain still finally gave way to a very faint, very subtle thrust of his hips, she was done, and pulled away. He protested loudly and Sergie couldn’t blame him. He didn’t even know his Daddy would do that kind of thing.

Hooking a finger through the D-ring on his collar, she pulled him where she wanted him, which conveniently was between her legs. When he was in a hood, things were always a little slower, a little more guided. One hand was put above her shoulder on the bed. The other by her hip. Her free hand wrapped around his slick cock and guided him to the warmth of her pussy and from there he needed no help at all. He drove into her as soon as he knew the way. Immediately her back arched and she let out a groan of pleasure. He drew out of her and stabbed at her again, already throbbing from the teasing of the day. She wrapped her legs around him to keep him from pulling out too far. Silky soft skin against his body, her hands against the scars on his back. She forced him to stay buried deep inside of her, her body pressed tight against his. Then, she tightened her muscles around his cock.

A muffled yelp came from him. Sergie could only imagine that if they had any of the same restrictions, he was currently yelling, “Please!” against the thick hood she kept him in.

“No,” she teased softly, assuring him he’d been correct in his assumption.

Then, she moved her legs and pressed her feet into the bed so that she could press her hips up against him, forcing him in deeper. He wasted no time in pulling out so he could thrust back into her, again and again. Each time, the same muffled sound could be heard from him. Each time, her ‘No’ got a little louder. The harder she pushed against him, the harder and faster he tried to fuck her, like if he could just jam his cock up into her cervix he’d press a magic button that would suddenly say ‘Yes’. He wasn’t entirely wrong — she just wasn’t going to let him get that far.

He slid his hands beneath her, pressed his chest down against her, turned his head so that his air wasn’t obstructed, ground her down into the bed, fucking hard and fast. Soon, all she could do was pant. Pant and groan and try to fight against him, although there really was no fight. All it would take was a flick against the hood. His requests strung together in one long line of muffled plea of denied orgasm. Her no’s turned into a soft kind of breathless laughter that verged on orgasm for longer than Sergie thought was possible for any human being to achieve until suddenly she shoved her hand up against his throat, caught him off guard, and flipped him over.

He had a full second to adjust himself, to make sure his ass was flat against the bed, and she crawled on top. This time she was nice and slow. She sunk deep on his cock and again Sergie could hear him begging, pleading for her to let him cum. Now she didn’t even bother to acknowledge his request. Now she was doing this just for herself. Two fingers slid down over her belly and disappeared to her clit, rubbing slowly as she rode him as casually as one could ride a man. Every now and again she would lean down, drag her hard nipples against his chest, whisper something that he couldn’t hear, that Sergie couldn’t hear, but the sparkle in her eye let him know that it was something awful, something wonderful, something that would make him cum without permission if he even heard it. No wonder the hood.

Finally, as she lingered on the brink of an orgasm for entirely too long, she put her hand over the mouth of the hood, blocking the one source of air that he had. His first reaction was always to panic, to try to suck in another lungful of air. It never worked. This game was not unfamiliar to him though. Both of his hands went to her hips and like before, he fucked her as hard as he could. This wasn’t a game of getting to orgasm; this was a game of getting to breathe. The details went something like this: get her to orgasm before she got him to pass out. The end. So he drove his cock deep inside of her. She pushed her hips back, trying to take him in deeper. He went as fast and hard as he could with no oxygen and she rocked against him in turn. Sometimes she would give him another breath, but only if it was her fault she wasn’t going to cum. As he was coming up on some of his last breaths, he finally cleared his mind and pulled one hand away from her hip, pushed her other hand away from her clit, and used his own fingers to manipulate the sweet nub of flesh into an orgasm. Fast and hard, the way she liked it. Forcing himself deep inside of her. Trying to use as little breath as he could. Outside of his hood, she was screaming in pleasure. Inside of his hood, all he could hear was his heartbeat. If he was going to go, this was the way to do it.

Just as he felt the world start to wash away from him, just as he felt his hips starting to lower for the last time, she moved her hand away from the hold in his hood and he drew in a deep breath. Sweet, sweet air. Air filled with lust and sex and sweat. Air that would replenish him, would reinvigorate him, which gave him the power to fuck her through her orgasm. Now all he had to do was make sure he didn’t cum. He fought it and he fought it hard. He wanted to. Sometimes he dreamed about it. Sometimes, it seemed as though taking an orgasm would be worth the punishment she handed out later. Except this time, he knew that she had something fun planned. Baseball. Grandma. Earthworms. Pain. Excruciating pain that she could deliver. That could kill an orgasm right there. Finally, when the spasms of muscles around his cock ceased, when the juices stopped flowing down and around his cock, his balls, he moved his hands back to her hips and just let them linger until she moved his hands for him.

Sergie was left speechless, breathless in his chair. Every slit in his chastity device was filled with purple flesh, his cock trying to burst through. He wasn’t even sure what he would do with it, it’d been so long since he’d had an orgasm, but he knew he wanted some of that. Any of it. Not even to fuck. To be fucked maybe. To be in the same bed as them. To hear her laughing at him. He wanted to be near them, while they were together, so that he could dart out his tongue and lick them up, clean them up. He wanted to taste the two of them mixed together and swallow it down, become as intoxicated on their lust as they were. But he was tied to the chair. He wouldn’t get anything like that. He hated it. And loved it.

Hooking her finger through the D-ring of Devin’s collar once more, she helped him to sit up in bed. Then, after climbing out of bed herself, she took him by the hands to guide him out himself. Standing up, she carefully walked him over to where Sergie sat. She lined him up right in front of him, took his arms behind his back, and locked his wrists together. Then, she pushed his ankles together and locked them together as well. He was unable to move. Unable to go anywhere. Unable to fight. Sergie looked to her, then to the semi-erect cock in his face, and without waiting, started to lick.

At first they were shy, quick licks. As the cock in his face began to twitch, he leaned in and nuzzled his face against the warm, wet flesh. He licked slower and then finally took the head of his cock into his mouth and sucked slowly, nervously. He tried to take more and more, tried to clean the taste of his Daddy off of him by just pulling him into his throat, but he just couldn’t. He pressed the side of his face against Devin’s hip and went back to licking. After a while, he buried his nose in his pubic hair and just breathed deep before he swirled his tongue around his balls, trying to lap up the last of the cream left behind. If Daddy hadn’t locked his ankles together, if he could have spread his legs, he would have gone so much further too. Eventually he heard the locks being released and Devin took a step back, his cock hard again, Sergie’s tongue reaching out for one more taste.

An absolutely precious sight, Julia thought.

Each cuff was unlocked from Devin. Each restraint removed. Each strap was unlocked from Devin. His hood was then removed. He stood there looking dazed for a moment and then looked to her, a silly grin spreading over his face. She leaned in and kissed him hard and he was quick to reciprocate. Before he could say anything, she curled her fingers around his hard cock and snickered softly. He simply shook his head and sought out his clothing.

“Yes, onto round two.”

“Round Two?” Sergie questioned.

Devin shot her a glance as he pulled his pants up and buttoned them, and then his expression matched Daddy’s. They both wore smirks. They both had such a shine in their eye. They were both awful and he couldn’t possibly imagine what they were up to.

Then, he left the room. Julia had found a robe to wrap herself up in and she was sitting pretty on the end of the bed.

“That, cuck, is why you have to sleep on the floor. There would just be no room for you in the bed when I spend the night with Devin.”

Sergie lit up. “Yes Daddy, I see that. Where did Devin go?”

“Oh, he went to get me something sweet to eat.”

Sergie nodded. Sometimes she liked sugar after orgasms, especially if she wanted to stay awake. He was trying to think if he had anything stocked in the fridge. Usually he did, because he liked to have things Daddy liked on hand, but he couldn’t remember specifically what he would have. Once Devin returned, he realized it was pointless to inventory the fridge. That’s not what she’d meant at all.

He had returned with a very willowy framed girl with dark raven hair and pale skin. Her green eyes were ablaze and the black rope that he had used complimented her body perfectly. There was a harness that accentuated her small breasts perfectly. Her arms were tied tight behind her back, forcing her to jut them out. There was rope that went down around her hips and spread her lips apart. That rope was the luckiest rope in the world right now, Sergie thought. There were decorative ties all the way down her legs. He was guiding her by her hair, pushing her forward, offering her to Julia. Before he gave her over entirely though, he spun her around to show off what he’d done: a beautiful rope corset through her long, dark hair. That would be able to stay in even if they, for some reason, had to untie her later.

There was one other thing that he’d done just for her: a rope gag kept her from saying a word.

Julia clapped her hands and looked as excited as anything either of the boys had seen before. Jumping up from the edge of the bed, she went straight to Olivia and kissed against her cheek as her fingers toyed with her nipples. Behind her, Devin was letting his hands roam free down her sides, over his rope work, and to her ass where he gave a good smack. Julia arched a brow and then smirked, stepping back.

He slid his fingers beneath his rope work and pulled her to the bed with him. There he sat where Julia had before, when she’d been waiting for him to return. The girl was small enough to pick her up with ease, and he draped her over his lap. At first he just caressed her exposed bottom, the soft flesh cool against his palm. Then he let down a smack. Olivia wriggled in his lap, though hardly protested at all. So he smacked the other cheek. He started alternating, though each sounded identical to the one before. Each smack rang out throughout the room. Everyone else was holding their breath, watching him play with a sub girl for the first time. He never quickened his pace, but the spankings became harder and harder. From where they were, they could see her bottom turn a healthy shade of pink. His concentration was focused entirely on her, on connecting with the sweet spot of her ass. Every now and again he would pull on that rope that ran between her lips, causing her to gasp, and then he’d cut it off by delivering yet another smack. Soon he slowed down. Each fell heavier. Each elicited a soft groan. The pink shade turned to a rosy red. His hand would linger over each cheek, so she couldn’t anticipate when the next would fall. The clap of his hand against her ass sent a shiver down Sergie’s spine. Now the girl was squirming all over the place, trying to get out of his lap.

“Count down from ten,” he instructed loudly.

He smacked her ass again.

“Ten,” she said, muffled as he’d been in the hood.

Another, harder than before, and the same muffled sound came from her, only this time with a whimper. Each time he delivered another blow to her bottom, she squeaked out loud, said whatever number she thought they were on, and let out a whine. When she took too long to respond with what sounded like a number, he would yank on the rope between her legs. Sergie and Julia watched with rapt attention. As she counted down to one and he delivered the hardest blow yet, she caved. There was no more thrashing. Now, she was trying to rub herself against him. She was trying to use that rope to her own advantage. He let out a laugh and gave a gentle tug of her corseted hair. Leaning in, he whispered what Julia could only assume was ‘Good girl’ to her and she couldn’t help but to smile herself.

“Undress her, Devin,” she spoke quietly, trying for it to sound more like a request than a command.

He gave a nod of his head and started to untie only the ties that would reveal her hips and below for them to play with. When the rope fell way and he pushed it aside, he sat down on the bed and pulled Olivia into his lap. Her green eyes searched Julia’s face and then stared intently at Sergie. Devin forced her legs apart and kept them that way so that Julia could simply crouch down between them and run her fingers through the girl’s already wet slit. From clit to pussy and up again. Soft kisses were pressed against her inner thighs, against Devin’s fingers, against both simultaneously. She looked up at Olivia, caught her eye, and smiled at her. The girl couldn’t watch. She leaned her head back against Devin’s shoulder. Julia rested her hands on the insides of her thighs so that Devin could play with her tits instead, gently teasing her rock hard nipples.

The girl smelled sweet like candy. She wasted no time in slipping her tongue into her slit, in circling her clit. Her fingers were already pressed against her tight hole, trying to push through. Olivia was pressing back against her fingers, slow gyrations, which in turn rubbed against Devin. Julia caught her clit between her lips and sucked it into her mouth ever so gently, running the very tip of her tongue against the sensitive flesh. At the same time, she was finally able to get two fingers inside of her warm, wet pussy. She slowly started to finger fuck her as she continued to lap at her slit, drinking her up.

Devin had gone from twisting her nipples to cupping her breasts. His mouth was at her neck, kissing softly. Olivia had closed her eyes so she could bask in the sensations of the two of them together. They made it easy to relax, to just enjoy what was being done. Julia’s fingers had found a spot inside of her that was pooling so many good feelings together that she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to stave off an orgasm for very long. Her breathing became short and was accented by a soft chirp. She kept up what she was doing, but concentrated more effort on tonguing against her sensitive clit. Devin made sure that he was brushing the sides of his thumbs against her nipples every so often. Olivia began to buck in his lap, letting his hard cock rub up against her ass, pushing her clit further into Julia’s mouth until she finally came, wave after wave of pleasure seeping from her, around her fingers. Julia tried to catch each drop, pull it to her mouth, and then when she was done, when the girl was still in his lap, she offered her fingers to Devin. He sucked them softly, his grey eyes focused entirely on Julia as he savored the flavor of innocence.

They didn’t give the girl much time to recover before she was put on the bed face down. She turned her head to try to watch them but to no avail. They were too far away. Each had gone to one side of the bed, giving Sergie a perfect view of Olivia’s small reddened ass and her sweet, pink pussy. It glistened under the light and he wondered what she tasted like. If it was anything as sweet as what he could smell in the air, he was certain people could become intoxicated off of her. He wanted to clean her up. He wanted to curl up with her and stroke her hair and tell her that she should thank them. But all he could do was sit and watch. His mouth was dry. His cock was straining. He ached. He longed. He loved every minute of it.

Because they were both going to be playing with her, she instructed Devin to flip her around. It took absolutely no effort for him to pick her up and rotate her so that Sergie went from being able to see her pussy to the outline of her entire body. The rope work was sturdy, the harness did its job, and he could finally see the hair corset that Devin had tied into her hair. Most of all, he could see her small tits leaning down towards the bed, the way that her nipples sometimes grazed the sheets and the way that her skin would break out in small goosebumps. The gag was removed from her mouth and immediately Olivia closed her mouth, swallowed, and then tried to loosen up her jaw a bit.

As she was doing that, Devin was pulling a toy and a bottle from his bag; Julia had gone to the closet and was returning with a toy of her own. Behind her, Devin had a thick silicone cock in his hand that he was working lube over from head to balls. Julia had her own black cock in hand, one slightly different: at the end of hers was a small bulb that she demonstrated the purpose of as she spread her legs and pushed it gently into her pussy, leaving a thick, hard cock exposed in front of Olivia’s face. At about the same time, the head of another toy cock was pressing back against her cunt, waiting to drive into her. Finally, there was one more, a little smaller, made of flesh, poised at her puckered asshole.

The thick black cock at her mouth went first. It pushed past her plush lips and past her teeth. Olivia hadn’t had much experience in way of blow jobs before and certainly never with a dildo that went inside of another person. Julia rested her hands on the girl’s head and together they fell in to a slow, easy rhythm. Devin waited patiently, watching down the curve of her ass, to her restrained arms, to her head bobbing down Julia’s cock before he pressed the head of his toy against her pussy. Each time that Olivia came back from going down on Julia, she pressed back a little harder against the cock in Devin’s hand. Once he was able to work it inside of her, he held it there tight, letting her fuck herself with it as he watched.

Because the cock in her mouth was nothing more than silicone, she didn’t have to worry about any fancy mouth work. She didn’t have to worry about swirling her tongue or making sure not to bite. That freed her up to enjoy the girth in her pussy and to make eye contact with the woman in front of her. Just as she was getting used to the sensations, as she felt she could probably carry through straight to an orgasm, Devin introduced the final element. Now every time she pressed back into him, she felt something at her tighter hole, the head of his soft cock bearing down against her forbidden entrance. The first time she gasped. The second time he didn’t make much way into her at all. The third time she became slightly more determined. Gripping the cock in her mouth with her teeth, she held it firm as she pushed back against Devin, breaking all rhythm that they’d all had.

There came that whimper. Devin has empathy for her; Julia felt chills run down her spine in pleasure. Her nipples were hard from the sound. She wanted so desperately to just push the girl back against her slave’s cock and to listen to her cry out in pain and then have it subside in pleasure. For the sake of all involved, she refrained, and just allowed the two to do what they needed to do. She wiggled her bum, she pushed back against him, she pushed into Julia. Once she was close enough and could remain close enough that Devin didn’t have to hold the toy with a hand anymore, he moved it to her hip to help guide her back against his cock. As he made it further inside of her, she stopped sucking the cock in her mouth and let out a long drawn out moan.

“Oh god don’t stop,” were the first words she spoke and Julia looked absolutely delighted. Devin was concentrating and moving into her slowly, until she couldn’t bear to take anymore. She let out a choked sob and then buried her face in Julia’s crotch before taking a deep breath and pressing back against him again. This time she made it all the way and the sound that they heard came from him instead of her. All was still for that moment. The girl was getting used to having all of her holes filled. Devin was basking in the sensation of having his cock buried deep in a tight virgin ass. Julia couldn’t help but to admire the look on his face before she finally plugged the girl’s mouth up once more with the cock that she had dropped. Then, Olivia started to move.

After a moment of regaining momentum, Devin was finally able to fuck her. The toy was wedged between them solidly enough that both of his hands had come up to her hips. She’d learned to work the cock in her mouth: she bit into it and yanked it up, figuring out that the bridge of the pieces would rub against Julia’s clit. Delicious sounds came from the woman in front of her when she did that. On an off chance, she shook her head vigorously from side to side, playfully growling. Devin lit up, knowing how much Julia loved the idea of growling. He rewarded the clever girl with a smack to her ass, sending vibrations through her entire body, bringing the growl to a groan. Pulling her mouth away from the cock, a thread of saliva connecting two still, she begged him, then her, “Please. Please just fuck me.” Her green eyes pleaded back with the man buried in her ass, then turned to the woman who had her by the hair.

One hand went back down to the toy in her pussy, so he could fuck her with it. The other kept her close, by pulling on the ropes that restrained her arms. Each time he buried himself in her again, she was forced forward on the cock in her mouth. A soft gagging noise came from her, which turned Julia on. Each time he pulled back, she tried to chase him, keeping the cock between her teeth, pulling hard enough to almost knock Julia off balance, fucking her with one part of the toy and rubbing her clit with the other. It was a vicious tug-of-war between Master and slave, the beautiful girl between them in the rope they were using.

The thick toy between her legs was enchanting. She closed her eyes, dug her fingers deep into the girl’s hair, and would tug every now and again. Devin was watching the girl he was fucking, the woman that he fucked earlier, and he knew that he was in charge of who came when. He fucked harder, deeper. He knew what would drive his Master over the edge. He didn’t often speak, especially not during sex. He’d found in the times they’d been together and he was allowed to that it worked wonders for her.

“She’s so tight. I can feel the juice from her cunt running down my fingers as I’m twisting the toy around inside of her. My cock has never been squeezed so hard. Such a slut, trying to milk me dry.” At that, he even growled, gave her a good thrust and a smack on her ass. Julia was actively fucking her mouth now, trying to shove her cock down her throat, trying to make her gag, pulling her hair.

“I can barely hold back. I want to cum so bad. I want to fill her ass with my semen so bad, watch it drip out of her hole and down to her pussy.” Julia’s breathing was heavy, she was no longer able to keep herself quiet. Soft moans came from her. The girl between her legs had learned how to work the cock and she was fucking her back as hard as she was being fucked.

He wouldn’t ask her permission, not in front of someone he was fucking, but he was staring intently at Julia. He was fucking her as hard as he could, in long, hard strokes. He was holding back the best he could, but the sensations were overwhelming. The point of no return was quick approaching and he hoped she realized that. The growl that escaped him certainly tipped her off if nothing else.

The girl between them was crying out in pleasure, in being used, in being filled. She listened to them talked, wanted to be with them, wanted to disappear inside of them where they could all fuck all the time.

Sergie was on the outside, watching the way their bodies moved together, the way that Olivia’s nipples would drag against the bed, the way that she was biting and tugging on the cock like a puppy’s toy, the way that Devin was showing great restraint in respect for his Master. They all seemed to be hanging on the very edge, waiting for something to push them over.

Each thrust brought forth a grunt. The fierce look of lust, of desperation, of absolute wanton need was etched in his face and he clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together as he searched her face, balancing perfectly between orgasm and no orgasm. Finally, from across this girl between them, finally, in the groans and grunts of pleasure, she broke the silence between the two of them.

“She’s young enough to be your daughter.”

That was it. He fucked her then. There was no holding back. He fucked as hard as he could, as fast as he could. The toy was pressed deep into her cunt and he twisted it but mostly he was focused on emptying his cum into her ass. As his orgasm finally peaked, he pressed deep into her and held still. Olivia bucked wildly beneath him, forcing herself back on his cock. She bit hard onto the cock in her mouth, dragging it back with her, muffling her screams and shrieks of absolute pleasure, and in the mix Julia’s sharp staccato sounds of final ecstasy finally chimed in and tied it all together. They hung together in that moment of bliss, each writhing, each bucking, each milking every last second of orgasm of pleasure for what it was worth. Sergie watched in absolute amazement. From the tip of his chastity device leaked a solid stream of pre-cum, forced out by all of the arousal forced upon him.

Second after second, moment after moment, the world returned to each of them. Slowly they began to untangle themselves from pussy, from ass, from mouth, from hair, from hips, from rope. Julia pulled her toy from Olivia’s mouth and her pussy and lingered long enough to gain her balance. Devin slowly, carefully pulled his cock from her ass, withdrew the toy from her pussy, and regained his balance. He set to work on untying the girl; she set to work on untying the boy. The girl got a kiss when he was through; the boy got to suck the toy clean when she was through. Devin wrapped the girl up in his arms and curled up behind her, stroking through her hair. Julia led the boy to the bed and allowed him to lick the girl clean before she curled up behind him and held him close. Julia and Devin sought one another then, their fingers entwining over the two, holding the four together.

An hour later, when all had come back to their senses, when all were dressed again, when bodies were cleaned up and refreshed and everyone was well hydrated once again, they finally worked on their good-byes. Olivia stared at all three of them with wild green eyes, with adoration, with want. She looked between the three of them, Devin with his arm around Julia; Sergie kneeling between the two of them. Julia tapped the back of Sergie’s head and told him to go say good-bye to her, so he rose and went to hug her.

Olivia put her hand to his chest, searching his eyes for a moment. Instantly he thought that she was pushing him away, rejecting him for what they had done. Instead, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth. He was so surprised he forgot to close his eyes. When she pulled away and saw him staring at her in confusion, she let out a soft laugh. “This was the best date ever. Let’s have another one soon.”

Congratulations on 50 days of chastity Sergie. Here’s hoping this makes the next 40 even more fun (for me)!

This time it was completely necessary. There were missing pieces of the puzzle that needed to be put together. There were stitches that needed to be put in my heart. We rolled through one question after another, figuring out that he only wanted an answer to my action, not my intent. After that, things were smoother. Only a yes or no answer need be given.

I found myself between a rock and a hard place that evening. On the one hand, he was mine. Mine. I owned him. My property. My slave. I loved him. I vowed to take care of him. I was doing him no harm. I was well within my rights to refuse his request for release. On the other hand, he was in love. As long as there was no reciprocation, it didn’t matter. I felt for him, but that wasn’t detrimental to what we were doing. It was when he whispered to me that she loved him back that everything came to a screeching halt.

What is best for him? We’d talked about loveless relationships before; we’d each been in one and never wanted to return to it. Did it matter that it was only him that didn’t love me? That was only my problem and not his, right? But if he loved someone else and she loved him in return, would he resent me for keeping him? Would he forever regret our entire relationship because it prevented him from exploring this new connection of his? In my head, the answer was yes. Who was I to keep two people apart when they really, truly loved each other?

I was angry. And sad. Not jealous, but it was bittersweet all the same. I couldn’t just keep him. It didn’t feel right. I didn’t want to just throw him away either, because I’d made promises to him. Selfishly, I felt like all my hard work was going to waste. All the plans I’d made. All the goals I’d set. All the work that I’d put into the relationship was moot. I felt the wind being knocked out of me. I had to agree. I didn’t feel I had any other choice.

Now I’m angry. Not so much that I let him go, but because I let him go and I have a good idea of where he’s headed. Watching him leave the first time was hard enough, but I managed because I knew (yes, knew!) he’d be back. It was okay if he got his heart broken because that’s not where he was supposed to be in the first place. I’d do what I could to help him, to soothe him, to put him back together the best I could, but in the end, he’d returned to where he belonged and I wanted him to see that.

Now though, now those words, that promise of love, it infiltrated my relationship again. Took him from me again. I see him headed back there, back to the same place where he was disrespected, humiliated, and degraded. I’m angry that I didn’t protect the man that I love. Angry that I didn’t keep him as my property and protect him from all of this. Angry that I started things too soon, didn’t let this all run its course fully the first time. Angry that anyone that could hurt him so bad would want another chance. Angry that they might get that second chance.

But who am I to complain about second chances? I got mine, right? I shouldn’t be so angry. That’s the trouble with emotions though, that you can’t always reason them away. I try. Oh, I try. But it doesn’t always work out quite like it should.

I told him what I wanted. I wanted him. I wanted to own him. I wanted to do it differently this time though. I want to be his friend. I want to date him. I want to be his play partner. I want for us to have a chastity device in hand before we discuss Ownership again. I want for us to be able to communicate clearly. I want for us to be able to see each other often. I want for him to feel good about being mine.

What I didn’t tell him was that I wanted to be able to love him the best that I can forever. I didn’t tell him that I didn’t want to see him so hurt again, that his pain physically hurts me. I didn’t tell him that I’m not so sure he’s coming back this time. I didn’t tell him a lot of things. There are some things that I just feel, whether right or wrong, should be kept to oneself. Especially in the case of reciprocated love. Especially then.

There are two things that need to be sorted out before we could ever move forward in a healthy relationship though: I have to learn how to communicate better with him and he needs to adjust his thinking and perception of what a slave really is.

This time, it will be done the right way. This time, I will adhere to the voice in my ear whispering ‘patience’. This time, whenever we get back to it, it will be for keeps. The way it should have been every time before.

For now though, for now we’re friends. Friends has this sweet little jab to it. It means that I can go to the ball games with him, but it might not mean I can hold his hand. It means that we can talk every day, but that I won’t be his priority anymore. It means look but don’t touch. It is, however, a good starting point. It will ensure that we’re focusing on the right things. The only trouble is we never had trouble communicating as friends. Only when we were together. Hopefully I can still learn what I need to from him in this new situation I find myself in.

The worst is feeling possessive but not being able to be possessive of him. Sitting back and having to watch, and wait, and hope. I hope that anyone that he might date in the interim understands how sweet he is, how sensitive he is, how beautiful his heart and soul are, and can take good care of him for me. Return him to me in as close to one piece as possible. Understand that if his heart is broken, so is mine, and mine really can’t take it right now. Really. And neither can his.

Months later, another incident came up. It occurred when we weren’t together, I was taking care of things just fine on my own, and there was no actual solution to the problem that he could help with. There was also no outcome as of yet, so there wasn’t any need to inform him of anything going on — in my head. It turns out he felt differently. Not only had I withheld the information about the circumstances I was dealing with, I had withheld my feelings about the circumstances I was dealing with. To him, that was lying. That left him to wonder what secrets I might have, what I might not be sharing with him. That led to a few questions of trust that tied into the sort of relationship were currently engaged in: consensual nonconsent.

When was enough enough? To me, it was a simple question with a simple answer. For months we’d been playing with energy. For months I’d been able to put him in a hypnotic state where I could get straightforward questions without the clutter of his thought and societal pressures pushing him around. This was the part of him I consulted frequently to know if he still felt happy, loved, and taken care of. This was what I consulted if I needed to know if things were too much for him. Sometimes he was scared but he was still always on board. He was happy where he was. He knew what he was and where he belonged and the last thing in the world he wanted was to be disowned. Satisfied, I related all of this to him. While he had no conscious memory of it, he knew that there was a very real part of him talking to me.

What happens when you get me locked in a device and all I can do is trust you? Then you have to just trust me, is what I told him. Trust that you picked someone with ethics and morals who can stick to them, no matter what. What if you don’t? he asked. Well, you’re not going to know that until it comes time to prove it. I already had, once before, when he’d left once before. I’d written him a note not long before saying that I always wanted to be a part of his journey, to see where he was going and where he’d end up and what he’d look like when he found what he was looking for, essentially. It didn’t matter if we were in a relationship or not. He was someone that I loved regardless, and that love transcended relationships, and I just wanted to know that he knew love and happiness in his life. I’d kept that promise even though he was off fucking someone else for a while. One could argue that I only kept the promise because I was expecting him to return, but that’s a matter of opinion.

Do you love me more than the lifestyle? That one was tough, because there was only ever going to be one way to prove it, but the answer without hesitation was yes. He told me he didn’t feel that way. That to date it felt like I cared more about the lifestyle than him. I thought about this question for a considerable amount of time after I’d answered and I still always came to the conclusion that I did in fact love him more than the lifestyle, but again, to prove it would be difficult. At least to prove it in a way that he would understand.

The day came that I would finally get to see him again. I was so excited. Hours upon hours to spend with him lay before me. The day before, I’d shared a very personal story with him, something from the very core of my being, something that I don’t share with most people. He seemed to like the story, but soon after turned around and pretty much told me that it didn’t matter what had happened to me in it, it wasn’t true. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it, but I reasoned it didn’t matter what I felt. I gave him that story, as a gift, and he was free to do with it as he pleased, even reject it.This is how I rationalize a lot of things, especially when it comes to sharing things about me.

One of the minute notes of the story was how when I was a kid I felt I could influence the weather with my emotions! It seemed silly, sure, but when I was feeling ridiculously happy, the sun would shine so bright. If my day soured, it wouldn’t shine as bright, or a cloud would block off part of the sun. The evening that I was driving to his house, the clouds were gathered in the sky. Unusual weather for where I live, but I tried not to think anything of it. As we left his house for dinner, a wind picked up. In my fingertips, in my toes, I could feel my energy brewing. Something was going to happen, for better or worse, and with the lack of sun I could only imagine for worse.

We made it through dinner, shared some stories, had a good time. We joked and commented on commercials and talked about how ex-spouses can really fuck a person over. We got to the house, he showed me some things, and the first time I touched him he started to pass out. The energy was too strong for him to fight. I took him to the couch, I asked him some questions, and he led me to his secret, finally.

After forty-five minutes of guessing, after so much of it being spent in silence, after a fight and an emotional break down, he finally told me his secret. I woke him up, gave him water, and told him he’d been lying to me. I asked him what his biggest secret was and he told me the one I’d known to date — not the one he’d just admitted to. He soon realized. Then, it was over.

He had asked me one question the day before that I couldn’t answer. Does absolute power corrupt absolutely? I wanted to say no. Gut instinct was no. It depended on the person. It depended on their heart. It depended on their soul. But I couldn’t prove it. So, while I had him hypnotized, I did an experiment.

For as long as I’ve known him, as long as we’ve known this could occur, I found that anytime I put my hand near this throat while he was under, he would start to choke. He’d go through all the motions of choking, his air would literally be cut off, even though I wasn’t touching his body at all. He literally could not breathe. Often times I would do it for only a moment, just to see if it still worked. Tonight, I wanted to do something different. This time, I looked at him and I told him, “You can’t breathe unless I tell you to” and sure as shit he started choking. I watched him for a moment, my hands still in my lap. “Alright, you can breathe. You never need my permission to breathe again,” I told him and suddenly he drank in the air like he’d been saved from the brink of death.

Absolute power.

I could have told him that roosters can fly into space. I could have told him to bark like a dog anytime his phone rang and I have no doubt in my mind that he would have done it. He wouldn’t know why he was doing it, but he sure would do it anyhow. But most importantly, I could have fixed the one problem that we were having in our relationship: I could have told him to love me. He would never know any better. He would have no idea that it was an idea planted by me. He would only know that he loved me and because he loved me, he would do everything for me. His surrender would have been so much easier. Life for us would have been so much easier.

After hearing his secret, there was that flutter inside of me. I could fix everything. I could have everything I wanted and fix everything so he was no longer confused, so that he knew what he wanted, so he could be happy. But that was wrong. That would not be living up to my morals and my ethics. That would not be taking care of him. That would not be taking care of me. So instead, I did the only thing I knew how: I released him.

I went back over everything we’d ever talked about while he was hypnotized. I took back his name. I took back my name. I took back Ownership. I disowned him. I told him he didn’t belong to me. I told him he could never come and ask me for Ownership ever again, at least not because he felt he belonged to me. This whole time, he was crying. The boy mind fucks the Master.

When all was said and done, when I made sure he understood what had happened and why, I sat in the living room for a while and asked for closure. I couldn’t rely on him to give it to me. I had loved, again, someone that couldn’t love me. I’d learned the first time not to wait around. Even if they do come back, it’s never quite the same. I lived up to my promises, again, despite the fact that I had been questioned, relentlessly, found to be untrustworthy, and despite the fact that the only person that would be hurt from the outcome was me. I had given a piece of my heart to him, to do with as he wished, even if all he wished to do with it was reject it. In normal relationships it wouldn’t matter — there would be something given in return so that there is a quilt work of a heart inside a person. For me, I have gaping holes.

I had told him that there was a piece of my heart just for him, a part that no one else could ever touch. No one could surpass the feelings I had for him; no one could replace him in any fashion. I wasn’t lying about that. There will always be that piece of my heart that belongs to him, no matter what he did, no matter what he chooses to do in the future. But now, now I’ve learned that I need to stop doing that. A person can only give away so much of their heart before it collapses, before it shuts down for good, before the heart is robbed of all the love in it, rendering it absolutely useless to any future person that might be able to actually offer a piece in return. There will be someone, someday, but for now I need to work on protecting myself, work on mending this heart of mine, so that even before that someone can show up, I can go back to loving this boy that was once mine and making sure that he stays safe on his path, so that I can continue to watch his journey and root him on.

Edit: Upon receiving some new information about some of the answers he had given me Saturday night, it is decided that the only reason for dissolution of the relationship was because he asked for release in the only way that would have granted it to him, not because he lied. More on this later.

My relationship with devin has been all over the board lately. From protesting to arguing to accepting to yelling to leaving to hurt feelings to acceptance to apologizes to understanding to requesting release and then back to Ownership again. Oh, okay, I never relinquished Ownership but the request for me to do so was submitted and retracted at one point. Being a slave is tough. Being someone’s property is tough. Figuring out who you really are? It’s tough.

Learning how to communicate effectively with another person is tough. Finding the right words to convey thoughts? Tough. Issuing an apology that you don’t feel you should have to make? Tough. Issuing an apology you know you absolutely have to make? Very tough. Knowing that you hurt someone you love because you were careless with your words? AS A WRITER? Tough, tough, tough.

Compromises are tough. Sometimes, finding your way is tough. Sometimes, leading can be tough. Sometimes following is tough! So much of what we’re all doing right now is tough.

I get frustrated at times. Frustrated that he can’t just follow me where I’m trying to lead him. Frustrated that at every bend there’s another question. Why am I doing this? Why can’t I see how he feels? Why don’t I understand where he’s coming from? Why don’t I understand that to him I can be scary? Why don’t I see that this relationship could be detrimental? Why don’t I see what everyone else around him sees? When is enough enough?

Sometimes I just want to throw it all at him. Sometimes I want to tell him that despite feeling in the bottom of my heart, in the heart of my soul, that this is right for him, that this is good for him, to just go. Stray for a while. Discover that you’re no better off over there. That no matter what you think is best for you, what everyone else thinks is best for you, they’re not seeing the whole picture. You’ll be back. This time though, I won’t be waiting. Sometimes I want to explain that I do  know where he’s coming from, that I see how hard it is for him, that I’m watching his struggle. When it was just a sexual relationship, where it felt like no more than an extended scene to me, it was so fucking hot. So hot. Because I knew he wouldn’t be suffering for long because the scene wouldn’t last for long. But he’s struggling with more than chastity, with more than when he’s going to get laid next, more than when he’ll feel his next orgasm. He’s struggling with being owned. He’s struggling with the very premise of our relationship. He’s struggling with knowing who he as a person is. That is not the hot kind of the struggling. It’s the kind of struggling where I just want to yell and tell him that if he’d just follow me we’d get there faster and then there would be silence. There would be no confusion. Everything would be as it should be. But the louder I yell and the harder I stomp my feet, the more he drags his heels. So I have to take a deep breath in and a deep breath out and gently guide him and hope that he’ll take the next step. Clear the path and hope he’ll take another step. Explain why we’re going this way and hope he takes another step. Recognize and address the fact that we’re going somewhere scary, that the path has disappeared, reassure him that I still know the way and hold my breath and hope he takes another step.

Two steps forward and one step back. We finally touch acceptance and then we step back into wondering if this is right. We finally touch selflessness and then we step back and accuse me of not having his best interest in mind. We finally touch trust and then fall back into failure to communicate.

Our dance is very elaborate. Very few would understand it. Sometimes I lead and he follows; sometimes he leads and I have to follow. Sometimes there’s no dancing at all. Sometimes we’re standing face-to-face, eye-to-eye, staring one another down.

Today was a day of trust and communication. Withholding information is lying. Trusting something that he said made me untrustworthy. The circles are everywhere. We’re walking in them, around them, through them, stuck in the rut sometimes. Eventually we get out and we move on, but sometimes, to get out, it’s tough.

Sometimes I forget. I don’t forget that this is tough for him. I put him out by himself, seemingly, and throw new ideas at him over and over again. Just as he’s finished processing one idea, I throw another at him. As soon as he grasped the concept of being a slave, I issued a protocol. As soon as he learned protocol, I issued some idea of what property is. I put him out there and I focus on him. Try this on, learn this. Think about this. Evaluate this. And all he can do is respond. He responds to one idea after another after another. Sometimes he responds well. Sometimes he responds in anger. Sometimes he responds by withdrawing. I forget that to him, he’s out there by himself. I forget that to him it sometimes feels like an attack. I forget this and then wonder how he ends up seeming so selfish and then I remember: it’s because I’ve put him in his own little world where he’s expected to only focus on himself. How could he not seem selfish? All of our attention is on him right now. And it’s tough.

Because he’s busy dealing with everything that I’m throwing at him, he can’t see that I’m working hard back here to recalibrate every plan according to his response. He can’t see that I’m altering all of my plans according to how he answers my questions. He doesn’t get to see that I grow frustrated sometimes, or sad, or even angry. He doesn’t get to see it because I don’t throw it at him. I’ve limited his world, what he gets to see and know, and my emotions are not a part of it. My emotions are not conducive to his learning, to his finding himself. I have to control myself as well as him and sometimes it’s tough.

Sitting back, I’m looking at him and thinking we should be the two of us against the world. That’s what O/p looks like to me. Aki and devin, standing united, against whatever the Universe has to throw at us. But right now, it’s Aki versus devin. Aki versus devin and devin’s friends. Aki versus devin, devin’s friends, and devin’s perceptions of how things should be. For him, it’s devin versus Aki and every idea she could possibly throw at him. devin versus Aki and her ideas and her protocol and her expectations. It’s tough.

Worst of all though, I think both of us forget that we’re both in this together. For as hard as I’m pushing him, I’m pushing myself. For as hard as I push him, he pushes me. Today I wondered if maybe the problem isn’t that I’ve given him too much to do and think about, but that I haven’t given him enough. Oh sure, he’s got his plate full by having to figure out what it means to him to be a slave, to be property, to be owned. But he doesn’t know what it is to figure out how to console me when I’m sad. He doesn’t know what to do if I’m angry. He doesn’t know how to take care of me because I don’t allow him to. I’ve robbed him of the very basics of a relationship, the simple joys of a vanilla relationship. I realize that at some point I’m going to have to trust him with my emotions and that’s tough.

I’m going to have to trust him with my memories. That’s tough.

I’m going to have to not only love him, but trust him to take care of my heart. That’s really tough.

I’m going to have to put myself out there for him the way that he’s done for me and that’s very, very tough.

And I realize that through all of this, through all that we do, through all the trials and tribulations, through all of the stubbornness and obstinance, through all the emotion and the anger and the sadness and the accusations and the fighting the reason why I love him so much is because he is tough.

Life is tough. Love is tough. O/p is tough. But it won’t always be. There will be moments where it’s so easy we won’t even remember the struggle we went through to get here. There will be moments where we’ll think everything is easy. Someday it won’t be so tough.

I sat down and I texted my roommate and I told him I’d found the group and I just don’t know if I can go over there and introduce myself. I really considered just thinking, ‘Yes, this is where I’ll find them…next time’ and heading out. Maybe I just wasn’t ready to admit to the world who I was. The internet was one thing but to look someone in the eye and say, ‘My name is Akalashi and I’m a kinky motherfucker’ is a little bit different. So I sucked in a deep breath, stood up, shoved my phone in my pocket, and headed right back to the group. There were two women standing and talking to one another. I strolled right up to them and asked if this was TNG and I was immediately greeted by the one and told I was in the right place. Moments later, the loudest, nerdiest guy I’d ever seen introduced himself. Today, I call these people my friends.

As I started hanging out with these people more, discussion of kinks came up. I immediately recognized that their focus was more on play. I had already been taking a journey into physical play, impact play, and had myself a cute little bottom that I could hit. I’d had a few in my time, as a matter of fact. I had found early on, with my very first pet, that I enjoyed flogging. For whatever reason, it really gets the juices flowing. Maybe it’s that it can be done softly it need be but can be more forceful if allowed. Regardless of the reasoning, that was definitely one of my interests. I had always wanted to try caning, but hadn’t really gotten around to it. Other than that, my experience was only in spanking for impact play. I’d done plenty of other things: mummification, tease and denial, mental chastity, D/s, protocols, and pet play. I didn’t know what they all were by name but I figured it out pretty quick. As long as I was discussing my interest in impact play, I found I fit in well enough.

However, my interests aren’t primarily physical. My interests are primarily mental, emotional, psychological. I prefer D/s to S&M any day. While I can appreciate someone writhing underneath me because they’re in pain, I prefer that they writhe because I am dominating them, controlling them, and they don’t have any escape. While I might smirk when a boy in a chastity device flinches because his cock is growing in the cage where it shouldn’t be, it isn’t necessarily the momentary pain that was inflicted upon him that caused me to smirk; my smirk appeared because of the denial of something so basic as an erection, the fact that he can’t have one. The pain associated with it is just icing. While I like the idea of a man having to wear a humbler in order to stay on the ground, I much prefer that a man stay on the ground because I told him to get on the ground and stay there. While I love the idea of physically taking someone down and showing them who’s the top of the relationship, the mental struggle and the mental acceptance of a surrender is much more intoxicating to me.

So when these things, and a few others, were revealed, I was instantly labeled an outsider. I don’t get my rocks off by touching dicks and tits. I can enjoy a good spanking, but I want to hear someone ask for it. Beg for it. Spank me again. Count it off. ‘Please, may I have another?’. M/s relationships are constantly arousing for me because of the control. I should have stopped talking, stopped telling people that these were my interests. I shouldn’t have admitted that while some people like golden showers for the taboo factor, or maybe just because they like being dirty, I enjoy the aspect of marking my property. Marking my territory. Unfortunately, censoring myself is not the reason why I joined this group.

I was scary. My desire to mentally dominate someone was much scarier than a physical domination where everyone has a nice safe word system in place. How do you say ‘yellow’ when you’re being told about the life you’re about to live now that you’ve given yourself over to another? You have to trust that the person in charge of you understands you well enough to know what you can handle, to know when to slow things, who knows how to put you back together if you break. When I find someone that I want to mentally dominate, I spend all of my time, all of my energy, all of my focus on learning them. I want in their heads. I want to know what makes them tick. I want to know their favorites and what they hate. I want to know what their relationships looked like. I want to know what they liked and what they hated. I need to learn their triggers. I need to know what makes them happy and sad and angry and what makes them feel loved. I don’t take this kind of thing lightly. Finally, I need to know that I can dominate them, either because I’m stronger than them or because my will is stronger than theirs.

The people in my TNG group don’t care about these kinds of things. The people in my TNG group, for the most part, don’t have M/s relationships. They have play partners. They have vanilla relationships with kinky sex. That’s fine. I’m happy for them. I like my sex kinky too, as a matter of fact, but I like my relationships intense. I like them deeply intimate. I like a power exchange.

So when I finally found a person who could challenge me, when I finally found someone worth dominating, when I finally found the person that I’d been looking for, I decided I ought to bring him around. I was expecting him to be a pretty permanent fixture in my life, if we could get past what we needed to get past. My friends warned him that I was scary. To him, I’m certain he was hearing that I was Sadistic and wanted to use his body as my own stomping grounds, that I wanted to carve him up. After all, we were mostly about physical play. He knew I was Sadistic. I had talked about cutting and pain before and he was not on board with that at all. For the first while, it was a matter of figuring out how we were going to work together at all. They didn’t elaborate on why I was scary. They just left it at that.

When our relationship continued to develop, I introduced him to my best friend. She knew about my lifestyle but she was vanilla herself. She attending a conference with me, showed me support, and enjoyed learning and understanding what us kink-folk were all about. The three of us sat in a booth together and talked. She and I share energy with one another that can often make us very silly. We’re like two little kids plotting and scheming on a playground and that’s just how we were. Add into that energy the fact that I was nervous as fuck about introducing this man to my best friend, the only family I have, and I was a chaotic mess. I forgot that he could feel everything, uncensored. I can’t hide that from him. He and I create some fantastic energy between us too; something tangible, something intoxicating to those around us. She even told us later that she was absolutely drunk off our energy and she couldn’t stop laughing. At the peak of this, she told him that he should watch out for me because I’m scary. Followed by a peal of laughter.

Those words couldn’t have been any worse to tell him if she’d deliberately picked them out to warn him off.To this day, he holds this against me. To this day, when he questions what we are doing together, he reminds me of how everyone that he met warned him that I am scary.

For the longest time, I shunned this. After the failure of one of my D/s relationships, I shunned BDSM. I was ashamed for being a Sadist. I was ashamed for wanting control. I was ashamed for the things that I enjoyed. I was ashamed that there was any desire to humiliate or restrain another human being. For a long while, I tried to convince myself that I was normal. I was a normal wife with a normal husband and a normal marriage. I asked him if we could have kids. He told me when we were financially sound, which was code word for ‘not in this fucking lifetime’. It was the best decision ever, because a few years later, I had another talk with him that went slightly differently: In exchange for never being able to have kids, I’d like to have human pets. Win-win.

As soon as I opened my first BDSM forum, as soon as I found my first BDSM group again, after all the time that I was gone, I felt the depression lift from me. I felt like I was no longer denying a part of who I was and I was nearly so happy I cried. This was who I was, for better or worse. I couldn’t hide it. I didn’t want to deny it.

Now, here, I was made to defend every piece of myself again. Here, in front of this person that also identified as kinky, I was having to explain my mental make-up, why things turned me on, assure him that despite being a Sadist I would never harm somebody. Every time he saw a look in my eye, or saw the way I would light up over something having to do with pain or power exchange, his blood would run cold, and suddenly I felt like I was an awful person again. I started to doubt myself, wonder if I’d found the right person. I wondered if this was going to be a fateful end like every other relationship I’d ever had that looked this promising.

But then, in the quiet and still of one night, as we were exchanging messages, I asked him if he felt like the renewal of our relationship felt as intense as it had been last time. It was a relatively mundane question. I didn’t feel as though things were as intense. I knew he had complained before that the relationship was too intense, that he wasn’t ready for it, and I figured with it toned down a bit, a lot, that he would be more comfortable. He said that the first time was more intense. I attribute it to the fact that the first time around, it was a sneak attack. He had absolutely no idea what was going to happen.

Abduction.

I attributed it to the fact that I could threaten him with everything I could steal from him. I could take his cock, I could take his orgasms, I could take his pleasure. I could remove blow jobs, hand jobs, intercourse. I could ensure that he never touched his cock again. I could ensure that he wouldn’t ever even see his cock again. I could ensure that all of his sexual pleasure came from one single person for the whole rest of his life. I was breaking him down, day by day. Day by day he was realizing what it was to be owned, to turn that control over to someone else. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t pretty. It would have been better if I could have kept him in a chastity device the whole time but we were doing just fine without it.

Psychological Warfare.

‘Do you miss it?’ I asked him. Did he miss the intensity? Did he wish that we could go back to that? Did he crave any part of it? Or was it really so awful that he could never stand to do it again. I asked him this after he came back to me. I asked him this after he told me that I could own him again. I asked him this after I pierced my cock. I asked him this after he had some idea of what ownership looked like. I asked him this as he was already dealing with all of these things a second time. I asked him this and held my breath.

Yes.

That was the verification that I was looking for. That was my go-ahead. No, it’s not easy for him. No, it’s not even all that pleasant for him. But sometimes it’s not about being pleasant. Sometimes, when you need to let something out, it has to get out. Sometimes it needs to be taken. I was not afraid to take it. I was strong enough to take it. And he just offered it up.

There are things I have to watch out for. I have to ensure that nothing we do is going to endanger his employment. I have to ensure that nothing we do is going to be public knowledge to his family. I have to ensure that I do not physically harm him. I have to ensure these things because they are most important to him. That makes them most important to me as well. Beyond that though, I have to ensure that I know him. I have to ensure that I can tell the difference between him being unhappy and him being depressed. I have to be able to read his cues. I have to be able to communicate effectively enough to understand what he is saying to me when he gives me the information I seek. I have to be careful of triggers that he may or may not know he has. Most importantly, I have to remain strong. Strong enough for him to fight against and lose to. Strong enough to hold the both of us together when he finally goes crashing down. I have to be strong enough to look at his darkest secrets, his darkest fantasies, and then still be able to look him in the eye and tell him that I love him. I have to be strong enough for us not to get lost in each other’s darkness. Finally, I have to be strong enough that he can thrash around, that he can put up a fight, and that I won’t walk away from him, because no matter how much he fears the loss of control, no matter how much he fears the loss of himself, what he fears the most is being disowned.

So yeah, the business of a consensual non-consent relationship is some scary shit. But it’s some scary shit that we’re both into.

I wasn’t as open with him as I am in my relationships now. I couldn’t be.  I didn’t know myself well enough to be able to be open with him and he didn’t know himself well enough to be as open with me. We were both coming from bad places, leaning on another broken person for support. I learned about a very special kind of love in this relationship. My husband is the one who took me in and sheltered me from the world, for better or worse. He built this cocoon around me and allowed me to sort through everything that had happened in the years before he met me. He allowed me to develop as I needed to. Unfortunately, when I was done, I was someone completely different than the person that he met. He was still mostly the same. It wasn’t until our divorce that he was able to spread his own wings and go out as a new person as well. I will forever be grateful that he was willing to keep me safe. I do regret that I stayed in that cocoon for so long.

My first pet was the first instance of having to be transparent. It was hard for me. Here I was again, open for rejection. There could be things he hated about me. There were things I still hated about myself, such as my Sadism. I had a hard time communicating with him and I didn’t know enough about my wants or needs to be able to clearly convey them to him. I am still grateful that our relationship went on for as long as it did and I hope that he’s happy in the relationship that he’s in now.

jhusdhui taught me the most about being myself. He ensured that I would always have what I wanted. Always had what I needed, but mostly what I wanted. He was the first person that I had ever met that would allow me to use him. At the time, I still struggled some of the time with using someone that I loved. I was dealing with the inner workings of having a poly family. I had a pet that I was training on the side, someone that was supposed to be an up and coming Dom, someone that needed a few pointers, who needed to learn how to communicate. I had all the support in the world, so that when one or all of my family was down and out, I could help them up again. I learned to love selfishly. I learned how to express my love in different ways.

This year, the Universe had a new lesson in store for me. I had to learn how to love selflessly. I had to learn how to open myself up completely to another person. I had to be transparent. I had to figure out how I could be cruel and loving at the same time. I would have to lead him through a dark, winding path without both of us getting lost. I had to know every step I was going to make and I had to know where we were going to come out in the end. I had to push him even when he thought he had nothing left to give. I had to make sure that despite being linked to his energy I didn’t go down with him. I had to be strong enough for the both of us.

Worse than that though, I went into this knowing that I was going to get hurt. This wasn’t apparent at first. At first, all I could think was what a fantastic person this guy turned out to be, exceeding all of my expectations. I’d never felt the things I felt with him before. I’d never been held accountable for my feelings before because no one else could ever feel them the way he could. There was no masking what emotion was running through me at the time. He could feel my nervousness or my excitement, my happiness or my sadness. He knew that I was getting off on his pain and he held me accountable to it more than one time. He knew I was nervous about something and held me accountable. Somewhere in his suffering, in our holding hands, in our power exchange, in our fucking, I fell in love. I fell in love knowing he was going to break my heart. By that time it was made evident to me.

In all the words that he was speaking, the ones that I kept hearing were ‘I’m not submissive’ and while all I wanted to tell him was ‘It doesn’t matter’, to reassure him that I’m not expecting him to just roll over and take it, that I liked the fight as much as he did, I found the harder I tried to hold onto him, the further he went. So, as the old adage goes, if you love someone, let them go. Before he left though, I needed him to meet my Miss Chris. I needed to show her this person, this amazing person that I had found, who had made such a difference in my life. I knew that after introducing them he would soon be gone. I was apprehensive about introducing them, letting her meet someone so wonderful and then seeing me fail as he left. I was nervous about her understanding our energy. I was nervous about his reaction to meeting her. But most of all, I was nervous about how everything was going to go down once he did leave.

I wasn’t paranoid. It wasn’t long after that we stopped seeing each other so he could explore another side of him. He’d always enjoyed topping. He wanted to see what a D/s relationship was like from the Dom side. I knew he was going to have to. If he didn’t do it now, he would either do it much later down the road when we already had too much invested or he was forever going to question if he was doing the right thing and what it would have been like from the other side of the slash, so to speak. I had to let him go. I had to let him do his thing. It didn’t matter how much it hurt me, it was something he needed.

At first it hurt. I watched him change all of his statuses. I watched him change all of his relationships. I knew exactly who he was going to, exactly who was going to share this next leg of his journey with him, and I could at least find some comfort in that it was someone he already knew, someone that already knew him, so that he’d at least have a fighting chance. I’d written for him shortly before that, explaining that no matter where his journey took him, I wanted to be a part of it. I didn’t just want to be cast aside. I didn’t necessarily want to be just an onlooker. Even if we couldn’t be together, I still cared about him and wanted the best for him.

As soon as we stopped seeing each other, messages started coming in from CM again. I started getting new messages on Fet. It was as though the Universe had put every other person in the world on hold so that I could devote my attention to him and now that he was gone, it was okay to seek solace elsewhere. It was the craziest thing. On top of that though, there was this unshakeable feeling that he’d be back. When, I couldn’t say. I couldn’t even begin to pinpoint. And when he did make his return, it was sooner than I thought it’d be. I was unprepared. Excited, happy, relieved, but not prepared for it in the least.

When I opened the door and saw him again for the first time in months, I felt everything in my world slide right back into place. My energy began to flow correctly. I smiled for the first time in weeks. I was like a kid, bouncing around, wanting to show him everything, talk about everything. I wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to put him under and welcome him back. But our conversation had to grow serious. If he was coming back, he was coming back for something in particular. We needed to pick up where we left off and go further than that. Chastity, Ownership, Surrender. We were about to embark on the same journey we’d been on before.This time, I was hoping we’d be more successful.

I wanted to start right away. I wanted to delve in right away. Things weren’t right though. Nothing felt quite like it was ready for us to begin. The piercing went in, the hood went on, we touched and kissed and he met Junk and the three of us hung out and we played and we talked but nothing was clicking quite right. There was a block. I couldn’t get through. It wasn’t like before where he dove right in, where he was ready. There was hesitation, trepidation. He had a better idea of what it was going to be like this time around. I figured that had something to do with it. There was more than that, but I couldn’t quite say what it was.

Finally, the subject of our talks changed. One of the things that first drew me to him was his smile. Oh, and his laugh. There was this one look that made him look like an Evil Magician. So much that at least one other person has called him that without me saying it first. He laughs. He smiles. His face tells stories of happiness in his past. But someone who was always happy, only happy, wouldn’t hold my attention for long. There was something lurking beneath. It took a while to get to. I finally got to wind around some of his history, some of his past. I got to know some of the feelings that he had that weren’t happiness or love. I got to see a darker side to him. Then, his heart was broken.

Loving someone while they hurt is sometimes the hardest part about love. There’s a protective side that elicited. I wanted to hide him away, put him in his kennel, put a hood on him, keep him safe. He wasn’t having it though. He needed to go out and see for himself, I suppose, for some reason or another. I only got to hear the tale of his pain and how he dealt with it — I didn’t get to be there to help him through it at all. I got to feel the pangs of it throughout the night, deep inside of me, but I couldn’t call him because I doubted he would talk. Later that weekend he did. Later that weekend I got to hear quite a bit.

After that, our conversations started down the familiar path. Chastity. Ownership. What if. Worries. Concern. Guilt. But more than that, in the darkest hours, when both of us should have been asleep, we spoke of how what I wanted would have to be taken. What he wanted would have to be taken from him. He couldn’t just give it over freely. That was what I was waiting for. This was where we needed to get to. Now I feel as though we’re both standing on the same stair, looking down the winding path. It’s dark. Neither of us is positive about where it goes. He’s far more afraid than I am. He has more to lose. Me, I’m ready. I’m steeling myself for whatever we encounter. I have to bare myself once more, keep myself transparent, love him even when he hates, hold him when he pushes away, protect him and guide him even when he struggles and tries to find his own way. This time we’ll come out of the darkness together. This time, we’ll make it all the way down.

The day was full of excitement. I got to see him that morning, briefly, before he had to take a trip to the airport. The chastity device had secured my cock once more and he was making a necessary stop in order for me to swap out the metal lock for a plastic lock with numbers on it. I wrote my name on the back of the lock. I took a picture of the lock. He watched in amusement as I did. I didn’t much care if he thought I was going overboard with the ‘security’ of ensuring he didn’t find a way free from his device — the ritual of it all was pretty entertaining to me. Almost as entertaining as the text I received later about how much he disliked having to sit in a stall in a public restroom at the airport.

When he returned to my place, we got to spend some time together. I’d seen him a couple of times that week: first when he came over on Tuesday to give himself to me, then on Wednesday when we needed to make a necessary adjustment to the CB device he was wearing so that he wouldn’t end up with pinched skin. I’d told him to bring the tape he was going to use to repair the case when he came over Tuesday but in his rush to get out the door to hand me the key he didn’t get the text in time. It was of no concern to me as it afforded me another visit from him. Three times in one week was probably the best we’d ever done. It was much better than the none in two months we’d just gone through.

After spending some time together, we discussed what exactly was going to take place that day. We’d briefly discussed it on Tuesday when he came to Blake’s and we talked about my taking Ownership of him. We’d briefly talked about it the weekend before, when he started up on his chastity carousel again. Talking chastity is hot and fun, but if he was serious about doing chastity with me again, he’d come to me talking about a piercing. So that was what was going to take place. The one regret that I’d had from before was not getting to mark him. Not getting to mark my cock. It couldn’t have happened then — he wasn’t ready for it — but it was going to happen now. There was no tricking him into Ownership this time around. This time, he came to me for it.

Once the piercing was done, we headed out. I was finally going to get to see where he lived. I knew that he was on the other side of town, but I knew nothing more than that. I had dreamed up what I thought his house would look like. I tried to imagine the decorations, how it was painted, keeping in mind that he was a minimalist. I knew he had a pool and that he liked to grill and I liked to picture what his backyard would look like. I tried to imagine what the house would smell like, feel like, when I first walked in. But before I could get carried away in all of that thinking, I spied the package by the door: the kennel that he had ordered had arrived just in time for Christmas.

We wasted no time in tearing it out of the box and setting it up. I watched him crawl around on the floor assembling it and I did a fantastic job of supervising. It went up quick and it looked sturdy. There was still the lingering question of whether or not he was actually going to fit through the one door it offered, but once it was up on its wheels and the wheels were locked in place, he crawled in with no problems. He would have to go in head first, come out head first, but since he had enough room to turn around inside, that wouldn’t be a problem. From inside the kennel he looked up at me and grinned. I snapped a picture. It might be one of my favorites of him.

The pan that was supposed to be included is actually two pans and instead of sitting inside of the crate, it sits underneath the crate. It will make me have to rethink one of the scenes I really wanted to do with him. The scene would not be impossible to achieve, but I was really hoping for one solid pan to sit upon the wires of the crate. To make it a little more like home, we threw in a blanket and two pillows and let him curl up inside for a minute to make sure that they wouldn’t take up too much necessary space. Then the kennel was wheeled back into the bedroom where it would taunt me until I was ready to use it.

Before we could do some hot kennel play though, we had to deal with the beautiful hood that he’d purchased. The last one he had didn’t fit well. It had enough snap on attachments that his mouth was available to me and he’d always have his nose exposed and this one only had one tiny little hole over his mouth to allow him to breathe. He’d tried to put it on himself earlier in the morning and panicked. This hood was definitely something he couldn’t use by himself. Between the lacing and the straps and ensuring it was on just right, it takes a bit of wiggle and finesse. Once it’s on correctly, it forces the hole right over his mouth. He doesn’t naturally breathe through his mouth though, so it dries him out. It’s something we’ll have to watch for in extended periods of play with the hood.

To combat the issue of panic, we went slow. At first, we just put the hood on. I let him adjust it over his mouth, let the padding inside of the hood ensure that he wouldn’t be without air, and just stroked down his neck and chest. When he felt safe enough with that, I started to lace up the back of the hood. I didn’t bother with straps or anything else yet, just tightening and tying the lace. Again, I ran my hands over his body, down the outsides of his arms, inside his legs, all over. He was starting to slip. I did up the straps. There are four of them and each of them could be locked, but I was still prepared to have to take the hood off quickly. After the straps were tightened down and he was comfortable, I tightened up the laces. Later, I was told that was when he started to float. Finally, the locks were put on. I let him sit like that for a while as I touched all over his body. I love the way he reacts to touch when he’s in a hood. This was precisely what made hoods appealing to me. Sometimes I would flick against the hood, watch him jump because it was so loud, then bring him back down again. During this testing phase, I made sure to cover his air hole, to let him know that I’d cut off his air, and then to give it back to him, to make him process it. To let him know that if anything like that were to happen during a scene I would be right there to make sure everything was okay. He seemed to struggle with it for a minute, but eventually he relaxed. I kissed over his shoulders, down his chest, settled in his lap, and stroked his face — something I can’t actually do unless he’s wearing a hood, so it’s a real treat for me.

Twenty minutes from the last adjustment until when I started to take the hood off and he seemed to do just fine. We talked about it after and he said that he didn’t think he would have issues with it again. The panic had come from not being able to put the hood on correctly by himself and that wasn’t going to be a problem while I was there to play with him. It wasn’t long before we were in the bedroom, getting the hood prepared for use, staring at the kennel that I wanted to shove him in.

I had him strip down to his underwear, an unfortunate necessity in order to help combat the bleeding of the piercing, and he offered to me his wrists and ankles for me to put his cuffs on. I locked each one on him. Then he stood and put his hood on while I stepped behind him to start lacing it up. The first strap was wrapped around his neck, holding the lacing in. The lock was locked and I ran my fingers down his spine. Then the strap across the back of the head. Click went the lock and I ran my fingers down his left arm. The strap around his face. Click went the lock and I stroked down his chest. The strap by his jaw. Click went the lock and I stroked down his right arm. Finally, the leash was attached to the ring of the collar on his hood. A heavy chain leash.

I carefully guided him forward, one step at a time, until he was through the doors of his bedroom. With a gentle tug, he went down on all fours. With a slight pull, he crawled forward. With a touch to the back of a hand, he lifted it into the kennel and he found his way through from there. I held the handle of the leash carefully as he turned himself around inside of the kennel, his head resting in the corner, one hand by his side and the other by his chest. The leash ran through the top of the kennel and hung down the side. Four clips came out and secured each limb to the kennel itself. Then I let him sit.

For a while I left the kennel door open. We weren’t sure how he was going to react to being inside of it, while hooded, while restrained to the actual kennel. There was no shifting. There was no turning around. There was no curling up. Every now and again I would tug on the leash. He could hear the chain rattling against the metal cage as well as feel it tug against his collar. Every now and again he would pull his arm away from the kennel edge, ensuring he was still restrained. Every now and again he would make these soft sounds, whimpers almost, but I knew he was okay. I would touch him. I would run my fingers over his leather-clad face. I wanted to penetrate him but the position wasn’t very conducive for that kind of play. Then, I closed the door. I locked it. I sat right outside with the keys in my hand.

Looking at him, I couldn’t help but to enjoy myself. This was a man that I had met six months ago, someone that had seemed almost fearless to me at first. He took a chance in meeting me, in playing with me. He let me take him to new, dark places. He let me challenge him. I found what he was afraid of and pushed him. This was a man that I had always found brave. Even when he was afraid, he was still brave, still willing to stick by his word. No one that would see him on the street would ever think he would be like this. As I grew to know him, talked to him, asked him questions, it was easy to see that there was so much going on in his head. So many worries. Regrets. Fears. Concerns. So much stress. So much to deal with. I just wanted him to give it all to me. I wanted to take it all away from him. Steal him away from the world, strip him down and make him vulnerable, and then show him that everything would be okay. Put him in his own little place, secure him, let him struggle and see that he was kept, and allow him to let it all go. Let him float. Give him some peace. Give him some quiet. Give him some comfort and safety, the way that he does for so many others. Watch over him, the way he watches over them. Protect him the way he protects them. Care for him the way he cares for them.

I watched the rise and fall of his chest. I listened to him breathe. I listened to the sounds that he made. In those quiet moments when I thought of nothing but him, when I watched him, when I saw him in a way that few others have ever seen and fewer could even imagine, I thought he was beautiful. Beautiful and brave for being able to do this, for allowing me to see it, for going through with it when years ago he may not have. I fingered the keys in my hand, the trust that he had given me. It was a wonderful feeling. I unlocked the door, let it swing wide, but I didn’t touch him. I wanted him to still feel all wrapped up in the tranquility of being put away, of being kept.

Forty-five minutes after he went in, it was time to come out. I removed each clip that kept him confined to the kennel. I moved the leash through the wires and gave a quick tug. He took a minute to return, to realize that I was summoning him. He tested his limbs, found he could move, and carefully positioned himself to exit head-first from the kennel. He came out on all fours and I carefully took him to the bed and then helped him to stand again. From there, I unlocked a padlock from the hood. And again. And again. And again. I untied the lace, let fresh air in as the collar parted from his skin. I took the leather from his face, set it aside. I crawled up in the bed, took his hands, and helped him in. His eyes were glazed over, a silly smile on his face. I put him in his spot on the bed, surrounded him with pillows and blankets, and slowly let him return to the world he knew best.

For now, the kennel is a beautiful escape. There is so much potential for play. I want to lock him in, lock him to it, make him watch me while he can’t do a thing. I want to do a day long scene in there. I want elements of humiliation. I want elements of abduction, of forced ownership. I want times of him in a hood and times of him in there without. I’m dying to set it up at a party, where he’s restrained inside, where others can see him but he can’t see them. I have so many ideas, so many feelings I want to evoke inside that cage, but for now I’m happy with the purpose it’s served. This kennel has already proven to be a wonderful toy for us.

I’d fooled around enough to have some idea of what I was doing when I met my next serious boyfriend. Our relationship led right into sex and I found out rather quickly that my favorite position was on top. I could scratch my fingernails down his chest, pin his arms above his head while I rode him, but most importantly, it afforded me the ability to pour (the wrong kind of) candle wax on his chest while I took my orgasm. CFNM, tease and denial, forced masturbation, light pain, body worship, all of these things were things that were absolutely normal to me and I couldn’t have imagined sex any other way.

Years after we got together and a couple of years after I was married, I came across an erotic story that I’d read about a woman who wanted to keep her husband in chastity. The thought of it was incredibly appealing to me. I didn’t much care that my husband masturbated; I knew that he did and sometimes I’d ask about it because it turned me on. Sometimes he was even thinking about me, which I thought was sweet. I did like that I would get to control when we would have sex instead of being expected to put out whenever he wanted it. Mostly though, I just liked the idea of chastity. It was taking tease and denial to a whole new level. At that time, I didn’t even realize the level of frustration (or pain) that could come from wearing a device. Putting him in chastity made me want to play with him more, touch him more, tease him more, taste him more, and so naturally, like everything else I’d ever suggested to him, I brought it up. Without even hearing why I liked the idea of chastity so much, he not only declined to try, but told me that there would never be a man out there that would let me lock him up.

Our marriage was pretty open from the start. There were a few of my kinks that my husband didn’t care to participate in, namely anything having to do with control. He made allowances so that I could have a pet on the side that I could do all of my tease and denial and controlling and pet play with. Typically they were just internet things so they weren’t very obtrusive and they allowed me a lot of room for creativity. I had one sweet pet named Lin that would do puppy/kitty play with me on cam, that was often the victim of my tease and denial, and that would allow me the game of mental chastity, where he was never allowed to orgasm without my permission. Most of the time it was also required that I got to watch him on cam. I’ll never forget the way that he would squirm and bite his lip right before he would beg so sweetly, “Mistress, may I cum?”. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. All the time if he came he had to clean it up. I was fortunate enough to get to meet him in real life for a weekend and if I knew then what I know now, we could have had a lot more fun.

My next relationship was local but all of these elements remained the same. There was no impact play, there was only a matter of controlling him, tease and denial, and chastity. There was no device used here either, because I enjoyed getting to use his body. It wasn’t that I was ever using his cock, but I liked rubbing against it. More so, I really enjoyed having him on top and jerking him off against my clit so that when he begged and I granted him release, he would squirt right against my clit and then I would come as well. Not quite simultaneous orgasms but good enough for me. This one was precious to me because I was able to discover that I enjoyed oral sex a whole lot and he was always happy to give it. We’d get up in the mornings and he’d service me. He’d shower and I’d watch tv while he made breakfast and then he’d service me again. If I got horny in the middle of the day, I’d pull his face between my legs and get off again. And it was almost mandatory that I would receive oral before I fell asleep at night. Sometimes I’d push him down between my legs, cover his head with the covers, and hope he could get me off before it got too hot for him. Other times, I’d let him have an orgasm, but only if he could jerk himself off while giving me oral and cum by the time I did.

Finally, after those relationships ended and I was back to just play partners, I met someone who had a device. I didn’t get to do much more with it than see it, see how it worked, hear about it, lock it on him for a day or two, before the play was over. It wasn’t going to work out long term anyhow. The device was a hindrance to him because he was a cross dresser, a beautiful one at that, and the device gave him away. I didn’t want that. I thought he was hot when he was ‘en femme’ and I wanted other people to think so as well. I wanted to take him out and have this beautiful girl on my arm and have no one think anything of it. It never really developed into anything other than a hunger to play with a real device.

Then I met him. When he told me that one of his main fetishes was chastity, I couldn’t figure out why. After all, all I ever heard from guys was complaints that they weren’t allowed to masturbate or they weren’t allowed to cum or the devices made them look weird or this or that or anything else. He liked the control of it, the ownership of it. Or at least he thought he did. The first night we met, I got his key. He did quite a few days in the device and magically, this world that I had always dreamed of opened up to me. On top of the chastity though, we were engaged in some serious mind fuck. No touching. No seeing. It was my cock, not his. I would do with it what I wanted. I would ignore it if I wanted to. He may never receive another blow job. He may never feel another hand touch my cock ever again. Best of all, he may never experience intercourse ever again because he gave me his cock and now that it was mine, I may never want it inside of anyone ever again.

All the while all I could think about was how much I wanted to unlock him after a week or two of chastity. I wanted to tie his hands behind the chair, make it so he couldn’t touch himself at all, kiss down his neck and chest and slide between his legs and slowly, carefully, unlock his device. I wanted to carefully remove those plastic pieces from around my cock. I wanted to take him in my hands and feel the blood flow deep into my cock, watch as it finally, after weeks of denial, got to grow to its full size. I wanted to see the way his eyes would roll back in his head as my fingers played up and down the shaft. I wanted to hear the groans and the whimpers when my tongue flicked the head. I wanted to see how fast and hard he would cum when I granted him an orgasm. I wanted him to know that his pleasure was because of me. Because I allowed him the pleasure. Because that cock sure was not his and without me, he wouldn’t know what it was to cum ever again.

Really, what is there to dislike about chastity? Especially from the Keyholder’s point of view.

One hand against his chest, my body pushed against his side, I wanted him rolled over. I had to wait. I couldn’t just flip him. There was steel between his legs now, just a small piece, just enough to pinch and to pull, to inflict a pain I wasn’t looking for at the moment. I gave him a moment, let him touch my cock, let him adjust, and then he shifted his position so that I could press up against his ass. There were layers of clothes between us. I needed no nudity to do what I wanted to do. He’d been cold. It’d take too long to get him undressed. After I pushed him over, after he turned onto his stomach and slid his arms up over his head, I crawled on top. Slithered right over his back, settled down so that I could press against his ass. I wish I had a toy attached, a strap-on. I wanted to thrust it inside of him, watch him reel, hear him protest and cry, and then fuck him. It was a good thing I didn’t have a toy on.

Despite being covered, I knew what he looked like. I knew his shoulders were uneven. They were probably tense too. I knew the tone of his skin, the freckles on his back. I knew the outline of his biceps, from where he may have been much more muscled when he was younger. I knew how smooth his skin was from touching him all the time. I couldn’t see the scars I adored but I knew they were there. Terrain. The Scarway Express. A hole for me to violate while we were in public — I could jam a finger deep in there and wriggle it around and he could feel it but it didn’t hurt. The right side of his body was always favored because of this. I didn’t need his shirt to be off to know this was all there. This was something I’d missed about him, his tore up body.

At first I was slow, unsure of how I wanted to play. Sometimes it’s quick. I just need to rub against him, get the juices flowing, get it over with, and get off. Sometimes I just want to be on top. I want him to feel my weight on top of him. I want him to know that now he’s a bottom. My bottom. I want him to understand his position with me, and thus his position in life. I need him to discard the ideas of what he’d been, eliminate the options of what he could be. I want him to understand that this is where we should both be and that this will work. I slide my arms underneath his, under his biceps. He’d made a remark to me about how he was stronger and more flexible than I gave him credit for and I scoffed. I don’t underestimate him at all.

I stretched my legs down inside of his own, pushing his legs away from his body. I hook my ankles over his calves, press my toes down by his ankles. I’m comfortable now. My hands snake over the covers to his wrists were my fingers curl around them and rest. He presses his ass up against me. In my head, I know he’s a slut. It had been uttered in the early hours of the morning when in his sleep he’d pressed back against me, the usual position for starting just this. I was too tired then; I’m not any longer.

At first I just graze against his ass. I’m not wet yet. I’m looking to get there though. I enjoy being on top. I enjoy feeling him beneath me. I like hearing the grunts that come from him. He turns his hands around, starts to move his arms. He’s testing me. He wants to see how easily he can break free, if I’ll let him go. The more he struggles, the tighter I hold. As he’s doing this, his body is moving beneath me. He’s rubbing against me. I’m rubbing against him. The struggle fuels something inside of me and I press down against him, let his body press up against me, feel my clit grow hard, feel my panties get wet. This was what I was looking for.

Now his arms try to move forward, back, any way they can. I have a good hold of him though. Instead, he tries moving his legs. I’ve got them locked inside of mine as well. That causes more bucking. I thrust against him. As he squirms around, he presses against me. He doesn’t let up. It’s going to get rough. Not like the time that I pinned him by the back of the neck and had to work from bottom to orgasm with little motivation. It’s going to get rough in that my whole body is going to have to keep him pinned, in that he’s going to keep struggling, that I have to make sure to keep a good hold on his wrists as well as get myself off.

It’s warm in the bedroom. The clothing may have been a mistake, but it may have also been a saving grace. If our skin had been touching, everything would have been much too slippery, the way his wrists were growing damp in my palms. I was turned on. I wanted to claw at him, pin him harder. I wanted to slide inside of him. Be inside of him. I wanted to feel his ass give way to my flesh and blood cock. I wanted to feel the pressure of the muscles trying to keep me out, to feel them relent, to push inside, to force myself deep inside of him. I wanted to hear the sounds he’d made then as he knew that I was going to take what I wanted no matter what. I wanted to feel him buck against that, drive me deeper inside of his body, inside a forbidden entrance. For now, I had to settle with the curve of his ass fitting perfectly against my body, with my clit brushing against the fabric of my panties. I could smell my arousal and his sweat and it was divine and I wanted to breathe nothing more than that for the rest of the day.

Writhing around beneath me, I thrust against him hard. I was still imagining being inside of him where he couldn’t deny me. He could deny his feelings for me, pretend like I hadn’t gotten inside of his head, pretend like I hadn’t made some impact on his life, but in this one act he wouldn’t be able to deny that I had finally gotten inside of him. The more he struggled the more it turned me on the more I had to fight against him. I wanted to create something where he could see that he was safe to rebel, safe to question, safe to fight, but I wouldn’t let him go. My love for him isn’t enough. Caring for him isn’t enough. Ensuring that I am a part of his life always, even when he doesn’t need me around, that wasn’t enough to show him that this is a safe place for him. I wanted to slide inside of him and show him that this was how it was going to be and that if he could just let go, he’d enjoy it. He knew he enjoyed it. He’d done it before. Getting there is always the struggle for him.

Finally, as my palms were sweating, as his body was bucking, I came. I came hard and long and I couldn’t keep it quiet. I wanted him. I wanted him with all of his flaws and his anguish and his love and his hopes and his dreams. I wanted him with all of the personality traits that people loved and all the personality traits that people hated. I wanted everything everyone saw and everything no one else got to see. I wanted all that was right with him and all that was wrong with him and all that is good and all that is bad and I wanted to make sure he knew it. I wanted him to know that he could fight and rebel and struggle and I wasn’t going to go anywhere. I was strong enough to handle everything that he is and everything that he will be and I am strong enough to lead us to where we need to go.

I want to be inside of him the way that he is inside of me. Inside my head, inside my heart, inside my soul. I just need to be inside.

A couple of months had passed. We were going out weekly, enjoying our time together, talking and examining the kinds of relationships people could have, that we could have. On the last night I had him over he was distant. I couldn’t get close to him emotionally or physically. I’d seen it coming but it still didn’t make things much easier when he stared me in the eye and told me he didn’t think he was submissive. I told him it didn’t matter. One part of me was scoffing at him and the other was sad to see him quit. We both knew he had to explore, that there were other lessons he needed to learn, and that was the last I saw of him.

I admit that for a bit I was jealous. Not that he had chosen someone other than me, but because the new relationship was so public. Everyone knew who he was dating, what they were doing together. They were going to huge events. They were playing in public. These were all the things that I couldn’t have, because in some way or another I was a secret. Or he was ashamed of the relationship that we had developed. The first couple of mornings after were rough. I wasn’t sure what to say to him. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep in touch. There were so many things that were left unsaid, unresolved. At the bottom of my heart, I knew that he would eventually be back, but I had no idea when. I couldn’t cling to that though, I couldn’t just wait because it could be years before he returned.

After a few weeks passed, our conversations were still short but they had substance to them again. He had a question here or there about how I thought something in the lifestyle should be done and I felt as though we were done walking on eggshells. I didn’t care that he went off to date someone else; I only cared that I felt I was being shut out of his life. I knew that it was going to happen because he identifies as monogamous but it felt like a door slamming on the greatest opportunity the universe had ever given me and I couldn’t figure out why this one was being taken away. The great Miss Chris told me that I just needed to let it go, the same as she told me when I met him that I needed to just jump right in, and so I listened. I let him go, I let the ideas I had associated with him go, and I let the energy that we had shared between us go, so that I could learn and appreciate this new side of him, a side that I wouldn’t see otherwise.

Conversations were sporadic but I appreciated them. I started asking about how he was doing things in his new relationship, since we were able to relate to one another on another level now. He got to make the decisions, he got to set up the scenes, he got to watch another squirm and wriggle and beg him for things. I believed he could do it and be successful — I believe that he can do anything he sets his mind to. A few weeks later, our conversations grew long again. Where they’d been stopping early in the morning, they were continuing to wind through the late afternoon and sometimes even in the evenings. The talks turned from what he was doing to thinking about chastity. The tides had turned.

Sunday was the day that he dug into his toy bag and removed the chastity device. He told me about the modifications he’d done to it, the sanding that he’d done. He wore it for the night and reported to me in the morning that it was going much better than before. It wasn’t cutting into him like it had before. The pain in the nights wasn’t as atrocious as it had been when we were playing with it before. This was something that he was still curious about. I joked about the chastity carousel that we were jumping onto. That evening, we looked at devices together. Which one was best. Which did I like? He’d left his key at work so that he couldn’t break free that night — but he wanted to. He talked about wanting to try chastity again and I told him that if he was serious, he would talk about the piercing that would allow the device of our dreams to be locked onto his body.

Tuesday was worse. Not as bad as anything that we’d done together, but by the time he got home, key in hand, he was ready to remove and release. I thought he’d been doing a fantastic job so far and didn’t see a reason for him to stop. I thought he should push it further. He told me that he had no reason to keep himself locked up and I told him that he should just put the key away, put it out of sight. Then he told me the key was there for the taking. I contemplated. I considered having him just mail it to me! Eventually, I just gave him the address of my friend’s house and told him to bring it to me…and he did.

I hadn’t seen him in so long. I opened the door and froze for a moment. It wasn’t that I had forgotten what he looked like or how he made me feel, but it all washed over me again when I saw his face. His hair was cut short. His eyes had color. That smile. He came in, helped us make egg nog, and we stood around like awkward teenagers not sure if we should hug or kiss or just fuck right there on the floor. As he removed his coat, he slipped the key into my hand. We had arranged for a play scene on Saturday. I imagined he was going to remain locked until then. We both knew that getting the key back from me was going to be a feat though. He knew it before he handed it to me. I knew it as soon as I had it in the palm of my hand. I had him once before. We’d talked about how if I’d just been able to keep him in a device he would have been my slave. He didn’t say it in jest, or to taunt me, but because that was how he felt about chastity.

That evening we talked. We talked about his relationship, about what he was doing now, about how he felt about chastity, about what we were going to do Saturday. He couldn’t stay long, so a lot of it was done via text later on. He admitted he knew he wasn’t going to get the key back. This time around, chastity wasn’t about the fetish. This time around, he was in it for good. Ownership. That’s where we were headed. He had asked me if he should assume that if I were to own him, that I would want to own him until his dying day. I told him yes and asked him if it scared or comforted him and he said both.

Friday morning I told him we should consider a contract. We’d talked about it in the past. Part of it was arousing to him when we’d talked about it before, because it was getting him to sign something over to someone else — almost like an abduction of sorts. I wanted a contract so we could define our relationship better. We’ve never really done it and I wanted to know what he considered to be Ownership. I know what it is to me. At first he balked. A contract is a binding agreement between two people. He hadn’t been looking for a lifetime relationship. He hadn’t ever considered getting married again and to him this is the lifestyle equivalent. What he said though was that in the end, he was my slave now, and he would sign anything that I told him to. The work for that has started with personal research, thinking about what needs to go into it, and by declaring the four veto rules for the contract that we both agreed upon.

Saturday was our do-or-die day. This was our play day. I had mummification in mind because we had tried it before and he really liked it but I had ways to improve on it. Like restraining his hands above his head to the random bar I have in my kitchen. We’d considered the idea of having him lie down so he could float for a good long time. A hair dryer and duct tape were other tools I wanted to include in the scene. He had to come over early so that I could unlock the metal padlock and replace it with a plastic lock. Upon his return, he was relocked with my lock, my key hanging around my neck again. We needed to do some shopping and then we needed to make a call to see if we had time to get a scene in. When the information returned that the place was busy and there might be a wait, all thoughts of play were put on hold.

One hour. I unlocked him from his chastity device and told him that he had one hour to have an orgasm. If he couldn’t, then he couldn’t, and that would be that. We tried for a while but the pressure was too much. It wasn’t going to happen. I can’t say I was too disappointed. He got himself cleaned up, we packed up, and then we headed out. On the drive, he asked me why this was so important to me. I told him it was because it symbolized Ownership. I asked him why he was so scared of it and he told me it was because it symbolized Ownership. In the parking lot, he asked me if there was anything he could say or do that would make me change my mind. I suppose in actuality the answer would have been for him to run away. Again. If he left after everything now, there’d be no reason to come back. There’d be no reason to own him because I would always wonder what it would take for him to feel secure enough to just stay put. I told him no though, because I don’t think like that. I don’t think about the next time he’ll run away. I don’t think he’s too cowardly to go through with something after he’s given his word. I got out of the car and he stayed. I watched him as he collected himself and then together we went in.

I supervised as he read over the paper and had to sign his name. At one point he had to verify that he was having this done of his own volition and his pen hung above the space where he was supposed to initial and his gaze fell on me. I was the primary reason for us being there, that much was true, but I reminded him that he knew I would do this if he returned and he came back to me willingly. So he lowered the pen and initialed and finished the paper in no time. There was hardly time to process what was happening before we were taken back to the sanitized room. For the second time in a week, he ended up naked from the waist down in front of a complete stranger. He settled himself onto the ‘bed’ and held his hands against his chest. When she told him how the procedure was going to go, and asked him not to jerk or to hit her, I took one of his hands. As the needle went through the head of my cock, he squeezed my hand. Hard. I wanted to watch the needle go in but I couldn’t tear my eyes from his face. The look of pain was exquisite. Then…just like that, it was done and over with. We were out the door.

I did it just for you.

And for you, I reminded him, because chastity was something we shared an interest in. Without the piercing, we wouldn’t be able to use the device that we wanted. By the time it arrives, he’ll be healed enough that we can put it on. That will be another hurdle for him to overcome I’m certain. The fact that a steel device will be locked onto his body, the key given to me, another step on our journey — I can’t wait.

In the meanwhile though, we had new toys to play with. He had just ordered a new hood, one he had asked my advice on. This one was thicker and better than the one he’d been playing with in the past. It was also a little scarier with all the straps across it and only one little breath hole over his mouth. We picked up some different lacing for it and talked a bit about putting him in it. He’d tried Friday morning to play with it a bit and felt panicked putting it on. It’s much easier with two people and we found that with the way the padding is around the mouth, it forces his mouth open so he has to breathe through it.

The other toy that he’d purchased for himself that I was most apprehensive about working was a kennel. It wasn’t the type with a door on top for easy access and I think we were both a little wary of his shoulders fitting through the door. After a quick set up, he crawled right in. With a pillow and a blanket, he had plenty of room to turn around, lie down, and be on all fours.

The final toy that he had to play with was actually his Christmas present from me: a locking cock ring. When we had done chastity before, we blamed the lapse in his mindset to the fact that he couldn’t be locked up for the entire time (because of circumstances beyond my control and because we really should have waited). This time we were a little afraid that without something restricting him, he would lapse again. The steel through the head of my cock might not be enough. I thought this was a good compromise as it would leave him open to clean my cock as he should with a new piercing but it would still lock something on him so that he had that feeling of Ownership, of control, of bondage. We can’t use it quite yet, but it will come into play soon. We also have a new cock cage coming in the mail that should be open enough for cleaning and allow room for the piercing.

The evening was filled with play, from hoods and touching to hoods and kennels and no touching, to impact play so we could gauge just how much pain he could take. After, we turned in, curled up together, and fell asleep. When I woke, it took me a moment to realize where I was, and as soon as I did I was touching him, kissing him, teasing him. I rolled him over, crawled on top of him, and gave myself an orgasm. Then he made us breakfast.

As I sat next to him at the table, looking over into his living room, watching his dog on the sofa, I smiled at him. I told him of all the places that I thought I would be on Christmas, I had never imagined it would be with him. He admitted the same. This time was supposed to be spent with someone else. He’d taken time off work to take a vacation with her. But here we were together, over breakfast, with my cock returned to me and pierced this time, with a contract in the works, with his public declaration of our relationship, with his cuffs locked around his wrists and ankles. We spent Christmas morning together as Owner and slave and I couldn’t have asked for anything better.