A Chastity Slave For Mistress
As I wake up, inside of my dog cage, which is securely attached to the wall of Mistresses’ garage, I notice two things.
One, my balls and baby dick STILL ache. This is normal. With an enforced chastity sentence of 2-months-to-life — a sentence I begged for, in fact — each day brings a unique character to the heaviness and soreness in my ‘manhood.’
However, the second thing I noticed is that the garage is unusually bright for the time of day.
My routine: Each day, I am to awake Mistress, in bed, with a breakfast prepared by hand. I am to arrive at her bedside no later than 7am, and the food must be warm, tasty, and to Mistress’ personal satisfaction.
Each of these requests must be accomplished if I want to have any fantasy, albeit a long-shot, of being released from my chastity prison. The problem with an indefinite chastity sense, from the male perspective, is the uncertainty that comes with earning/ deserving / being rewarded with an orgasm forces any clear-thinking person to practice supreme obedience. Such is the life of a chastity slave.
This life does not come without reward for the male slave, however. The feeling of having Mistress show me her sexiest lingerie — sets that I bought, sets that she would never wear for me, and sets that she makes me buy and wear a matching set of.
Mistress knows all too well how this affects my dicklet. She loves watching my entire chastity cage bounce as my cock tries unsuccessful again to regain its former pathetic glory.
Back to the lighting in my ‘bedroom,’ a.k.a. Mistress’ garage. As I continue to awake from my cramped night of sleep, I reach through the cage’s bars to free myself from the dog crate I call my bed. The lock is on a timer, and will only open for me between 6-8am.
Any other times and it will snap shut securely, ensuring that ONLY Mistress may unlock the cage and ONLY after she has received assurances that I am both sorry for my predicament and eternally greatful for such a kind, understanding Mistress.
With this said, as I reached around to unlock myself from the cage, so that I can begin to prepare Mistress the quality of breakfast she demands and deserves, the elevated light levels and unyielding feel of the cold metal sunk in.
My heart dropped and began to *thump.* I had somehow overslept and missed my window to be released from my crate, and therefore have greatly disappointed Mistress. This will not be a good day for me or my balls, I can bet that. As my mind races, I begin to develop agreement items or tasks I can complete to help ease Mistress’ impending rage over my incompetence. I can hear her now: “Slave, I only give you one fucking task.
I only ask that you wait on me hand and foot, beckoning to my every call, and that each morning I am awoken in bed with a wonderful breakfast and the sight of your pathetic cock stretching for freedom in its metal prison. That’s it! Why can’t you just be a good little slave bitch and do what I tell you?”
My fear builds tangibly for another 45 minutes or so, until I hear the unmistakable sound of Mistress’ stiletto heels crossing from the entrance of the garage over towards my location. As I’ve been trained, I am on all fours, face into the corner of the room, and my balls are pressed up against the bars of the cage, just in case Mistress (or any of her friends that might be with her) decides to use my balls for her entertainment or empowerment.
“Slave, what time is it?”
“Mistress, I do not know what time it is exactly, but I can assume that it is past 8:00”
“And… What do you have to say for your self?”
“Mistress, I am very very sorry. I intended to be up in time to cook your favorite breakfast today, but somehow my testicle-shock-collar-alarm didn’t wake me up this morning.”
“Why would that be? It seems to work every other morning. I can hear you cry out from the shock to your balls all the way from my master suite on most mornings.”
“I don’t know! I am so sorry Mistress. Please forgive me. Please allow me to make an additional financial donation to your ‘blue balls and big black cocks’ panty fund as a show of my sincerity.”
“You think that will satisfy my disgust with your behavior?”
“Mistress, please! I also promise to double all of my chores for you this week.”
“And — And, I will give you a mani/pedi today also, so your nails can look extra sexy for your stud… any maybe if I’m lucky, your nails will remind me of why I got the extra small metal chastity cage. By that I mean, if I am lucky, your nails clicking on my metal chastity device will make my pathetic tiny cock try to get hard, thereby entertaining you.”
“This all sounds good, but hardly enough for the aggravation you have caused me today.”
“I will hand-clean all of your lingerie.”
“Stop, slave. There is nothing you can do at this point.”
“Please, Mistress. I’ll do anything.”
“Silence! *Grabs balls* Slave, look down at these balls of yours. Tell me if you think they are as swollen as they can get.”
“Mistress, they are extremely swollen and aching.”
*Grabs tightly* “Slave! I did not ask you that. I said, ‘Tell me if you think they are as swollen as they can get.”
“Yes, Mistress. Please! They’re so swollen that I can barely pull my jeans up over my belt. They hurt so very badly, please!”
“You can’t pull your jeans up over the chastity belt? I’ve got a solution for you… How about this: You are no longer allowed to wear jeans.”
“What? Um, ok. I guess shorts will work for me from now on.”
“Actually, slave, I don’t think you’re getting the intent of my latest rule. See, you aren’t only being disallowed from wearing jeans. I’m hereby permanently banning you from wearing any male-designed article of clothing ever again.
If it came from a section of the store where other men’s items are sold, you are to donate it to some little boy who can actually wear gender-appropriate clothing. You, however, will be wearing clothing that reflects your actual personality. You, slave, will wear exclusively female clothing items. How does that sound?”
“Mistress, I dont know… what about when I go to work?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve already informed your boss and the entire office staff, too, actually. They understand the fact that you have been a disobedient little chastity bitch. Yes, I told them all that you wear a metal chastity belt for me. Yes, I told them that this has been on your cock continuously for the past 2 months.
In fact, Stephanie, that hot little blonde receptionist, said that you haven’t been able to keep your eyes off of her blouse these last few weeks. After I told her about your ‘little’ predicament, she said it’s probably because you’re walking around with blue balls the size of grapefruits. We laughed so hard about the new clothing rule I imposed.
She’s been kind enough (or devilish enough in your case) to come over today and help us pick out some new outfits for you that will be appropriate for the office. She also mentioned that it might be do-able to have you convert to work-from-home so that you can devote more of your time to me, and so that your new attire of lacy panties over metal chastity ONLY won’t be quite so embarrassing for you, sweety.
I told her that the offer sounded wonderful, but that I prefered to see how you’d do in the office with your co-workers now that they know your little secret. I also asked Stephanie to snap me some candid photos of the moments throughout the day that make you wish you had been born a women all along. Now, slave, tell me why you think you were late to wake up today.”
“Mistress, it must have been because of a malfunction of the alarm device. I couldn’t have slept through it, and it hasn’t gone off yet.”
“Good try, bitch, but that’s only part of the equation. In fact, today is the final day of Daylight Savings, and therefore, our clocks are all set back 1 hour today. I decided to take advantage of this opportunity to really fuck with your head — both the big one on your shoulders that I control with *this* power: **Squeezes balls so firmly I can only gasp**, and also the very little ‘other’ head that I have so cruelly and securelly locked in that metal prison.
See this key, slave? This key is the reason why you are now sentenced to a life in woman’s clothing, no matter the situation. I don’t care if you’re subpoenaed for court, you will still arrive wearing only the laciest, most feminine, embarrassment-inducing clothing we can find you today at the mall. Dinner with my parents, no problem.
My mother will laugh so fucking hard with me when I show her that your ‘underwear’ drawer has become a collection of colorful lace ranging from cheeky boy shorts to g-strings and thongs.
For the extra cruel occasions, I’ve been instructed to purchase crotch-less panties fit just right so that my metal ‘manhood’ sticks out perfectly for Mistress to grab, squeeze, tease, and abuse. One last thing, slave. Tell me which color panties you are going to be wearing first.”
“Mistress, please reconsider this demand! I can’t go about wearing only women’s attire forever. Surely you will allow me to retain at least a couple of outfits I could wear in a pinch if my college buddies were to come over for Poker Night.”
“Slave, how could I forget Poker Night?! I wouldn’t be that cruel, would I? Actually, slave, you bet your pathetic, tiny, baby-dick that I remembered all about Poker Night. In fact, I’ve scheduled a Poker Night for this evening! I called your ‘boys’ and told them to bring their ladies, because tonight is co-ed Poker Night.”
“What? No…. Please! I can’t.”
“Shhh, slave. You do realize that you have literally no control of this situation and that my mind has been firmly made up. We WILL have Poker Night. We will have you attend in nothing short of feminine and stunning (stunning to your ‘boys’ who never pictured you in a purple lace thong, which barely covers your metal chastity prison.
We WILL explain to each and every couple there why you’re wearing it. We WILL allow them to examine, ask questions, tease you, and even try the same out on their husbands. And lastly, no, you WILL NOT be released, pleasured, or otherwise made to feel like a ‘man’ in any way. Sound good? Actually, I’m not feeling that you’re grasping this firmly enough.
Why don’t you tack on one additional rule for yourself that you can abide by moving forward? Make it good, or I reserve the right to intensify it, change it, or add to it as I see fit.
And just in case you’re considering debating this with me, feel how helpless this makes you feel.” *Holds balls, cupped in one hand, while repeatedly slapping them with the other hand* “Slave, you are tied helpless, not to mention that these are MY BALLS.
You will create an additional Femdom-Chastity-Modifier (as instructed) to my satisfaction, or I can guarantee an additional ONE YEAR without release, with an additional month added for each wet dream or otherwise unsanctioned orgasm/spurt/release. You have 10 seconds to begin describing your self-imposed sanction.”
“Uh… Mistress, I humbly request that, in addition to the rules you’ve graciously imposed, that I be required to have either 1) sunburnt, 2) bruised, or 3) swollen testicles at all times of my well-deserved imprisonment.”
“Slave, I do have to say, I like the intent, however, as expected, you’ve fallen short of the level of cruelty I desire. I’ll take your recommendations and impose all three! You WILL have 1) Sunburnt, AND 2) Bruised, AND 3) Swollen testicles at all times. Got it?”
“Understood, Mistress. For your generosity, I’d like to voluntarily request weekly Brazilian waxes.”
“How thoughtful, you little ass-kissing little bitch. Stand up and spread those legs. I want to see palpable pain on your face each time you move or sit because of the discomfort I’ve caused those balls. And grab me the IcyHot while you’re at it.
I want today to be burned into your brain forever. I want you to know that at any time, I can remotely shut off your little ballsies’ shock collar and make you miss preparing my breakfast. Just know, next time you fail to do your slave duties, I will consider castration and auctioning you off to another Mistress as a eunuch live-in sissy maid.
You don’t want that, though, do you? You’d prefer, instead of removing your ballsies, that I torture them, render them useless, and continue to do so, because your helpless male brain thinks someday you’ll be allowed to spurt your filth between my calves as I let you fuck nothing more pleasurable than my leggings FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.
Spread your legs, and beg that I kick your balls so hard that you exclaim, out loud, that you wish you were born a woman. And then really scream that, because my boots are going to smash your balls so hard, we’ll have to double-check they’re still intact after.
Don’t keep me waiting, you’ve got plenty of shopping to do today for Poker Night. I want each woman to go home with a brand-new chastity belt for their hubbies, two-weeks worth of lingerie so sexy that any man, even one as pathetic as yourself, instantly gets horny and is at her mercy, a booked two-week vacation to Sin Island (the couples Femdom resort island where you first realized that your balls were mine forever), and a mind full of ideas on how they can make their man cry, beg, leak pre-cum, and emasculate himself for the pleasure of any woman divine enough to grab him by his balls and laugh.
Each woman’s gift bag shall be arranged in the front hall closet and once everything is ready, you will wait outside on your retractable dog leash. I’ve had the doggy leash specially equipped so that you can reach all areas of the backyard (and even front yard if I want).
I want you to work on your landscaping chores while me and the girls have Hors D’oeuvres and wine inside, all the while watching you from our specially designed Mistress-Viewing room. One-way glass, a bevy of alarms, testicle shocking remotes, and other secret-but-cruel devices you’ll become familiar with in due time.
If you feel the device around the base of your balls shock you in three consecutive pulses, you had better drop whatever you’re doing and hurry to the foyer, where you will knee, hands behind your back, legs spread, eyes closed, and await your instructions.
Now, go see if you can get some color on those balls besides that disgusting bluish-purple color my boots and feet gave them. I want to see some nice, bright red. I’ll be nice enough to let you choose — Sunburn and cock-numbing dry ice OR Icy Hot and Stinging Nettles.”
“Mistress, please don’t rub the Nettles on my cock!”
“So you choose sunburn and ice pack numbing?”
“Yes, please, Mistress.”
“Ok. But, because of your hesistation and inability to simply answer my questions as I ask them, you’ve earned *this*. Open your mouth. Swallow.”
“Thank you Mistress.”
“You know what that is already, don’t you?”
“Mistress, I assume it is a Viagra pill. I assume you’ve given it to me so that you can see my truly suffer in each way imaginable today.”
“Good boy. But not just today, Slave. You will be forced to make your balls ‘Red’ for Mistress to cover up all of that ‘Blue’ each and every single day of the rest of your life. Any day you see any blue on your balls, be prepared to cover it up with some painful red marks.
And don’t think I’ll always be so kind as to allow you to choose just how those balls are made RED. Now get outside and don’t you dare come back for my attention until I can see some skin peeling from the sunburn.”
To Be Continued…