The Cage by Master Ivan

[mrivan]

The Cage
by Master Ivan

I stand in the cage.

I have been locked inside now for over two hours, for the pleasure of my Master.

I am naked. My body has only been permitted the covering of my restraints.

My forearms are welded together behind my back, from elbows to fingertips, by a tight single glove made of glistening patent leather. At the top of this sheath are straps which cross my shoulders and wrap painfully tight around my breasts. When I struggle in my bonds, as I often do, the straps pull tighter around my vulnerable flesh, increasing my pain.

My shaved cunt is open and empty, exposed. My ass, however, is quite full, thanks to the large dildo held inside by the locked harness. The lower end of my forearm sheath is attached to the harness, so that whenever I pull upwards against the sheath, I force the dildo ever deeper into my ass.

The cage is barely wide enough to hold my standing body. Nevertheless, my ankles are chained apart to the edges of the cage, holding them some two feet apart. It is enough to open my lower lips to the air as well as to my Master’s eyes and hands. Also, the straps from the dildo harness pass to either side of my cunt, hiding nothing, causing me to open even further.

There is a collar. It is a wide one, although not the widest available. Some three inches across, it inhibits, but does not prevent, my turning my head. I will direct my eyes as Master wishes.

There is also a gag. A cock-gag, of course, large, very life-like, made of rubber. It is strapped in very tightly and locked, filling my mouth. It reminds me constantly of the primary purpose of a slave’s mouth, while giving me the opportunity to regularly express my own natural submissive urges as I caress the head of it with my tongue.

Finally, there is the chain. It hangs from the top center of the cage, passes through the rearmost ring of my collar, then attaches to my single glove near my elbows. It aids me in keeping my head facing straight ahead, then pulls up hard on my glove, tightening my breast bondage and forcing my anal dildo even deeper into my ass.

Although torturous, my bonds are tolerable. Still, every move my body makes in struggling punishes me, reminding me of both my Master’s strong hand and my own need for discipline. Sometimes, when I have been kept in punitive bondage for hours at a time, I find myself wishing for Master’s whips, if only to find freedom in my screams. Master knows best, however. The pain is only enough to dissuade me from undue struggling, to train me to accept his treatment. I try to stand still and present my body properly for his pleasure, even in his absence.

My eyes are not covered. I know that this small freedom is granted by design, not by oversight. Any freedom I am given is given only to enable me to serve better or to train more intensively. I know, when Master returns, he will have something for me to look at which will teach me my submission.

As I wait, suffering the minor discomforts of a slave, I find myself yearning for Master’s arrival. I overheard, no doubt by his intent, that he will be playing host to another woman, one interested in submitting to his will. For a moment, I feel the typical jealousy of a woman competing for the attentions of a man. Quickly though, I realize it is only the small part of my mind that has not yet submitted which stands against the dominance of my owner. Were I a free woman, I might presume to influence my man’s desires on such matters. As a slave, I must strive aways to serve Master’s pleasure, no matter what the cost. If he should seek out another slave, or a free woman lover, I must remember that my role is to enhance his pleasure, not my own, and that any jealousy on my part is a punishable offense, one for which I should request my Master’s discipline.

It occurred to me that, since the new girl had not served Master in the past, he might very well entertain her with coffee or a drink on the way home. Certainly, master would remember the bonds with which he confined me and the degree of discomfort which I would be compelled to suffer by his hand until he chose to release me or change my bonds. While a small, rebellious, punishable part of my mind felt some resentment at the whimsical delay which prolongued my suffering, particularly as he entertained another woman, I was also a good enough slave to know that he, as a fully capable Master, would remember my discomfort, would know the degree to which his property could tolerate such ordeals and would in fact be well entertained by the knowledge that I would be suffering as he enjoyed the company of the new girl. I knew also that she would be impressed by my submission when she saw me and that I could be proud of myself.

My mind was weakening. As my thoughts continued, I realized I was drifting into the trap of feeling slave-pride. Should that drift continue, I would begin expecting rewards from Master for simply submitting to his will. I resolved to confess my faults to Master as soon as I was permitted to speak and request punishment.

I began to imagine how he might punish me: maybe being restrained on my knees for a few days, or intensive doggie training, or serving him in the bathroom, or wearing a punishment gag with a humiliating taste or substance. Soon, I noticed my arousal rising at the thoughts. Yes, I was a true slave. I was responding with arousal to the most degrading and humiliating punishments. Master himself was aroused by my enduring such things; indeed, this sort of punishment was his fortŽ, and he often commanded me to invent new ideas for him to use in my discipline and punishment. I knew this part of our chemistry was an important part of what fueled our Master/slave relationship.

My train of thought was interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of Master’s key being turned in the front door. In a fraction of a second, my mind quickly flashed through many possibilities of my first encounter with Master and his newest girl. I considered being made to serve them as a French maid, or being subjected to an intensification of my bondage, or being whipped or tortured for their entertainment, or being made to service them both sexually with my mouth, or being subjected to degradations that would stagger the imagination. Then, they entered.

She was no super-model, but she would certainly catch the eye. She was of medium height, slender, full chested, with a narrow waist and long legs. Her blonde hair was well-coiffed, her clothes designed to attract a man. Her eyes were fiery, and it was not hard to see she was hungry for a Master.

I, also, was hungry for a Master. Again, it was my treacherous slave-pride. As Master looked briefly into my eyes, he saw it all, as he usually does. He then ignored me, totally, as he showed the girl around his home.

He didn’t ignore me forever. As their tour reached my slave cage, he simply pointed out the cage, announcing me as his “Current slave in residence”. They then continued the tour in the dungeon.

I noticed the girl’s eyes as she saw me. They shone with her own jealousy. Master would soon cure her of that problem! In the meantime, of course, he would also be curing me of mine. I guessed he would make an example of me at an appropriate time.

They returned to the living room. I could see she was hot and getting hotter all the time. Yes, Master would reduce her to a submissive slut-in-heat. It would surprise me greatly if she was allowed an orgasm on this first night of her submission. As he led her to the front door, my anticipation reached a peak. He would now either bid her goodnight, or order her to strip. Indeed, he offered her the option.

She looked at me, right into my eyes. She could see my pain, my humiliation at being stared at in my exposure and my heat. Her decision came immediately as she began to remove her clothes.

I felt a thrill run through me as she submitted her body to our eyes. I knew Master would command us to perform sexually for his entertainment, and I would be most willing to obey. As she removed her bra, she stumbled awkwardly, delaying the baring of her breasts for an instant. I noticed Master’s eyes observing the fault, knowing he would begin limiting her dress privileges even before she left his home tonight. Considering her low-cut, transparent top, I felt it would be safe to say she would never wear that bra again.

Some minutes later, she was naked, her clothes locked away out of sight. She was collared and leashed and had her wrists handcuffed behind her back. Her odor of arousal joined with mine as it permeated the room. Her nipples were large and erect; her cunt was open and so wet I could see its wetness from my cage.

I could hear little of their discussion. I knew Master was delivering the standard introductory lecture on slave deportment as her posture improved in stages. She knelt at his feet, shoulders well back, her knees (after more than one admonishment) properly spread far apart. She was made to assume several standard basic postures, beginning with that correct kneeling position. Later, she was made to “Display” herself standing, with legs straight and spread as far as possible, hands behind the neck, elbows pulled well back and chest thrust out. She was shown how to “Kneel to the whip”, by bending deep from her knees with her breasts and right cheek touching the floor, and her wrists, when they were temporarily rebound at her front, thrust between her knees.

After an hour of this preliminary training, he took a very serious tone with her, allowing her to kneel at his feet. Indeed, he explained to her that the mild experiences she had gone through would soon be accelerated dramatically if she chose to continue. I chuckled around the huge rubber cock which had been locked into my mouth for over three hours now. Yes, as a new slave in training, her treatment might rival my own very soon.

She responded with a kiss to Master’s feet, as well as a verbal submission. Master then removed her cuffs.

I found myself shuddering in anticipation. Would he initiate her with a caning?

My hopes bore promise as he lowered the bar from the ceiling and strapped her wrists into it. Activating the winch, he hoisted her up until her heels were drawn off the floor and her toes struggled to bear some of her weight. He then spoke to her briefly, caressed her left breast, drew a finger through her cunt and walked away, leaving her moaning in frustration.

Suddenly, my own anticipation rose, as well as my fear, as he walked to me.

He faced me and asked, “Is my property in any danger of being damaged?” It was his way of asking if I was OK in my bonds while he maintained a totally dominant role.

I surveyed my body. My arms, tightly bound within their sheath, tingled with the reduction of blood circulation. I knew my limits there and knew that if Master chose to leave me bound, I could survive another two or three hours without fear of injury. The chain pulling me up from the cage top might cause my back and shoulders to be somewhat sore, but that would be mild to tolerate. The dildo which was forced deep into my ass was painfully large, as well as somewhat dried out, but I had suffered far worse. My breasts, compressed by the straps, were chafed and in pain from the severity of the bonds, but I knew my limits there, as well--they would give me the kind of residual soreness later that would build my masochistic arousal. I assured Master with a movement of my head that I was bearing up well.

He then asked if I had done anything in his absence to earn further punishment.

I lowered my eyes, guiltily. I could not hide such things from Master if I wanted to.

He opened the cage door and removed my cock-gag. “Confess!”

Keeping my eyes lowered, I admitted, “Master, I found myself getting jealous of your new slave. I wanted to control your wishes, and I am further guilty of slave-pride.”

He replaced my gag.

“You will be punished soon, at a time of my choosing. It will be done in the company of my newest slave.”

As I reddened in shame, he turned and walked to where his newest slave awaited her initiation.

“Slave! Beg me to gag you, then to initiate you with the whip!”

I watched her shudder, then beg him properly for the gag and the whip. She shook in that paradoxical mix of fear and arousal that fuels the desires of the true slave. Typically, she opened her mouth voluntarily to accept the large ball-gag, then fought the strap briefly after it was tightened, to confirm her helplessness.

Now, she was truly helpless. Short of losing consciousness, nothing would stop the course of events to which she was committed. Her breath showed her fear, and her cunt was as opened and wet as my own.

Master left a riding crop out in plain sight, then left the room. The girl looked at the crop, and a shudder went through her body. Now, as she crossed the bridge between fantasy and reality, she stood ready to confront the reality. Bound as she was, naked, exposed, helpless, even subjected to being observed by another bound slave, her anticipation would continue to build. By the time Master was ready to lash her flesh, she would be fully primed for the maximum effects of the whip.

We stood, bound, awaiting the pleasure of our Master. I, too, felt the anticipation. Having confessed to my pride and jealousy and requested punishment, I would indeed be punished that night, undoubtedly while his newest slave observed. Our eyes met and shared our fear and arousal.

He let us wait half an hour more while he changed clothes and relaxed with a cigar and a drink. Finally, he returned. As he picked up the crop, I noted that it was one of the most vicious ones he had. While not as brutal as the cane, its slender, flexible shaft would give her some very severe pain, leaving welts that might last for days. She would remember her initiation.

He stood before her, looking into her eyes. This was a highly critical part of the ritual: he had to show her his total confidence, his total control, his total ownership of her, immediately before giving her her first dose of heavy pain. He also extracted from her that look of submission, of fear, and of knowing herself helpless.

It is a subtle difference, but a significant one, that between submission and complete surrender. Submission implies limits and a trust in the Master to respect those limits. True surrender gives oneself utterly, without limits, even in the knowledge that the future will go far beyond what one is ready or willing to accept.

He took position behind her, to one side, and I saw her stiffen in anticipation. I could already tell, by her subtle expressions of fear, that she had never been subjected to the lash. Her fear knew nothing about the level of pain she would have to experience. Had she been whipped before, she would have steeled herself for pain of a degree she could anticipate, knowing that there would be a limit to both the pain and the degree to which she might be marked. Without that foreknowledge, she might be facing an executioner’s axe and would display the same fear.

The blow struck. It landed full across both cheeks of her ass, and I could see the shockwave of the impact as it crossed her flesh. She burst into a full-bodied scream, dancing energetically in her bonds as the first welt quickly rose. Several seconds passed before her body slowed, absorbing the impact of that first terrible pain, when the second stroke landed.

Master whipped her skillfully, concentrating on the center of her asscheeks, right at the point on which she would have to sit. He timed the strokes for the most dramatic presentation of her physical reactions, reminding me again of both the pleasure a Master takes in whipping a slave and the lessons to be learned by another slave privileged to watch such a whipping. Before it was over, I found myself shuddering with every stroke, my bonds pulling hard against the huge phallus still painfully filling my ass.

He continued laashing her for a full two dozen strokes, every one as hard and merciless as the first. Finished, he left the whip in front of her where she could see it, then wordlessly left the room.

We awaited his return for perhaps half an hour. The new girl hung, suffering, on her toes, crying through a good part of that time. I noted each time her eyes fell on the whip, as another shudder of fear passed through her body. Fifteen or twenty minutes along, I observed the subtle manifestations of her surrender to her bonds: her struggles stopped, she seemed to no longer concern herself about whether or not I was watching her, and she hung her head down and awaited her Master.

He returned, circled her slowly, surveying her body and its new welts, then stood before her and removed her gag. He picked up the whip, causing her to shudder once again, at which he smiled, satisfied. He held the whip at her lips and commanded her, “Kiss the whip!”

She obeyed, the abject fear of the whip clearly visible both on her face and in her body. Master then held her, in a surprising display of affection, allowing her tears to begin again, falling on his shoulder. I soon realized that Master was keeping a close hold on the emotional chemistry developing between them. The whipping had been severe, and he wanted her fear to be directed at the whip, not to him personally. His actions were successful, as she soon began kissing him in response, her arousal returning.

He moved away from her and, renewing my own fears, approached my cage.

He removed the chain attaching me to the top of the cage, then released my ankles. He brought me to my knees and led me to the feet of his new slave. As he looked down at me, I could see the displeasure in his eyes and realized I would now be punished for my jealousy and my slave-pride.

He removed my gag, then admonished me: “So, slut, you would dare to object to my choice of slaves to be used for my own pleasure? Perhaps you would want me to ask your permission before I exercised my rights as your Master and owner...”

I dropped my face to his boots and pleaded, “No, Master. I’m sorry. I have been a prideful slave, and I must be punished. Please Master, punish your slave.”

I could only hope he would be merciful in his choice of punishments for me. I knew he would not forgive my offenses.

“Up to your knees, cunt! I wish to take pleasure with my newest slut, and you will assist.” He withdrew his partially erect cock and said, “Suck it hard, slut!”

I opened my mouth and accepted his cock. I worked with all my skill, skill acquired by long hours of practice under Master’s firm guiding hand, using my lips and tongue on his cockhead, then allowing him to penetrate my throat at will with the full length of his cock. Soon, his erection was at full strength, and he withdrew.

He took my leash and pulled me around until my face was buried in the ass of his new slave. “Lick her ass, slut! I want her well-lubricated, inside and out!”

My humiliation rose another level of magnitude as my tongue began tasting the interior of my rival’s asshole. With my own ass painfully filled, I knew already I would not be allowed pleasure that night. Master would use his new girl, and I would have to assist, in the most degrading ways possible.

He had fed my leash between her legs and up through her cuntlips, then pulled hard from the front to insure my face remained buried in her ass. When I struggled, the leash would pull harder into the girl’s cunt, stimulating her. I could smell her juices, even feel them, as they ran down my lower chin and the sides of my throat, but I would only be allowed to taste her ass.

Master had put on a ringed waist belt. As he finally pulled me free of her ass, he reinstalled my cock gag, then placed me in front of the girl, my gagged face an inch away from her very wet cunt.

She screamed as his cock forced its way into her virgin ass. He did allow her a bit of time to expand her anal ring to accomodate him, but I could see her pain in the movements of her body. Soon, Master had his full length buried in her ass.

I then felt the leash pulling on my collar, drawing my face into her cunt. He had passed the leash through her legs, under his own crotch, then attached it to the rearmost ring on his belt. Now, every time he withdrew his cock from her ass, my gagged face would be forcibly pulled into her cunt.

He fucked her ass for a brutal twenty minutes or more before finally coming. His strokes increased dramatically in speed and strength until my face was being cruelly buffeted by her cunt. At last, sated, he withdrew altogether and released my leash.

Moving me again, he stood before me, his now soft and extremely soiled cock bobbing right in front of my nose. He removed my gag, then said, “Now, cunt, beg me to use the mouth of a prideful, jealous slave as it desesrves to be used!”

Looking directly at his soiled cock, I plunged ever-lower in my degradation. “Please Master, let me clean your cock with my mouth.”

It was not enough. Indeed, I would invariably clean his cock in that fashion whenever he fucked my own ass. He wantd me to be truly degraded before his new slave. I tried again.

“Please Master, allow your lowly slave to lick and suck the shit from your slave’s ass off of your beautiful cock, until it is immaculately clean.” To add to my performance, my face cooperated by turning an even deeper shade of red, revealing the depth of my humiliation. This time, he was satisfied. I opened my mouth, allowing his soiled cock to enter as he took a firm grip in my hair, guiding the efforts of my lips and tongue until not a trace of her shit or his come remained.

He was not yet done with my humiliation. He again repositioned me with my face at the hanging girl’s ass. He looked down at me, waiting. I would have to ask again for my humiliation. This time, I did it right the first time.

“Please Master, let me suck all your come out of her ass, until she is thoroughly cleaned.”

He smiled down at me, pleased. He used the leash again, guiding my movements until I had licked away all the come that had dripped down her legs, then used it to pull me hard into her ass, wrapping it hard around her waist to bind me in place. My tongue obediently probed deep into her asshole as my mouth began to suck out his come.

It took a long, long time before the taste of him was gone. As I labored, I felt the shame and the degradation, and I was painfully aware of the degree of control my Master had over me, right down to my most basic thoughts and drives. I wallowed in the degradation, buried myself in it and soon, predictably, found myself responding to it with arousal, proving my enslavement. I grew moist as my cunt opened and my nipples became ever more erect, anticipating my own slave rape. I found myself contracting my anus around the huge phallus threatening to split me in two, while I pulled hard on my arm bondage, forcing the dildo ever deeper into my yielding ass. Then, I remembered. My pleasure, as well as my servitude, would remain firmly under the control of my Master. As a slave under punishment, I would, no doubt, remain denied. I would be expected to utter no protest over my denial and would be further punished if I dared to complain. I did all I could do under the circumstances: I continued to clean the new slave’s asshole with my mouth.

I continued my humiliating labor for a good twenty minutes more before Master was satisfied. Finally, he loosened my leash and pulled me back to await his further pleasure on my knees. To my dismay, he gagged me once more, again with the large cock-gag.

He lowered the arms of his new slave, locking her wrists behind her back. He then spoke to her, in words I had heard before.

“Your ass is pleasing to me, cunt, but it could serve better. I find it tight around my cock, which is pleasurable, but it is too unyielding when I wish to fuck you there. Your ass must be enlarged.”

She groaned around her ballgag, perhaps in anticipation of what was probably going to be her next ordeal. True to my own expectations, Master located a medium sized dildo, maybe an inch and a half wide and eight inches long, along with an appropriate chastity harness to hold it in. He was merciful with her, lubricating it well and inserting it gently, but it soon filled her ass, locked in place by the harness. She would be granted no pleasure this night.

He then found another chastity harness, identical to the one she now wore, and used it on me. My old harness left my cunt exposed, begging for use. Now, I would also be denied pleasure while my own ass would remain filled by the largest dildo it could tolerate.

With both of us plugged and chastity belted, it was time for us to be prepared for our overnight ordeals. Master took his new slave and led her to his bed.

As I knelt, idle and restrained, I realized the new girl would share Master’s bed that night. Again, I was betrayed by both my jealousy and my sexual hunger. Now, though, I realized there was no favoritism involved in Master’s decision. I had shown my weaknesses and admitted to them. I had, in fact, begged him to train and punish me, to make me a better slave. My denial, and the likely probability that I would be made to watch master enjoying his new slave, would both punish my selfish attitudes most effectively. As I watched Master bind the girl into a severe hog-tie, complete with a tight elbow strap, I allowed myself to feel my hunger, to feel the jealousy, even to feel the more competitive aspects of my slave-pride, then I pulled up sharply on my arm bondage, forcing the huge dildo and inch or two deeper into my ass as the chest straps tightened painfully around my already tortured breasts. As I felt the persistent pain of my bonds, I said to myself, silently, “Thank you, Master, for training me to be a better slave.”

Amazingly, I found my mind adjusting well, responding properly to the punishment. When my resentment returned, I focused on my discomforts as cures, solutions to my problems. I found myself not only welcoming my existing punishments, but hoping Master could find a way to intensify them even further, to help me train better. I was not disappointed as, finished with the new slave’s restraints, he came to me.

I smiled a smile of welcome as he again turned his attention to my training and discipline. This time, he brought out an item which caused me to shudder, both in fear and anticipation.

It was a dog kennel. Fashioned entirely of steel bars, it was of a size to be a very tight fit for a kneeling slave, particularly one restrained as I was. I was made to back into the small cage, then Master began to intensify my restraints even further.

My wrists, already pulled down sharply by the dildo harness, were pulled up the two or three inches to the top of the cage. This forced me to raise my ass, and I could no longer relax back on my heels. If I did try to relax, my own weight would be applied directly to the huge dildo filling my ass, pushing it ever deeper into my bowels.

My head and face were next. A harness of stiff leather straps held my head tightly, providing a single restraining ring at the crown of my head. The ring was drawn up to the top of the cage as well, forcing my head painfully upright, facing straight forward.

Now, I could not move a muscle without punishing myself. Still, Master was not done.

He brought out two mild tit-clamps. These acted almost like slipknots rather than the usual pincers and could be worn for a substantially longer time. He applied them, then drew them down sharply to the floor of the cage by means of two rubber bands. Immediately, I realized their intended effect. Any move I made, whether a muscle twitch or even the act of breathing, would cause the rubber bands to vibrate, passing on their stimulating, slightly painful signals directly to my nipples. Indeed, I would be kept highly aroused all night, while already restrained, exposed, caged, denied and fucked painfully deep in my smallest opening.

As the door was locked and the cage hoisted into the air, I still felt the conflict of my enslavement as part of me wanted to beg for mercy while the rest of me wanted to thank Master for training me so well. It was a meaningless conflict now, however, since the only thing my mouth would be permitted to do this night would be to caress the rubber cock which filled my mouth. I allowed my tongue to lick its head lovingly as Master got into bed with his newest slave.

He positioned her hog-tied body at one corner of the bed, her head towards the center of the mattress. He laid down, covering only his own body with the blankets and enjoyed the sight of the quivering, suffering girl as she endured her bonds. I waited, knowing what would soon follow from personal experience.

Some minutes later, Master removed her gag, then drew his covers back, exposing his cock, again erect. The slave started at the unexpected movement, but quickly realized her fate when she saw the cockhead bobbing an inch away from her mouth. She groaned once, pitifully, suffering in her arousal, then opened her mouth.

He fucked her mouth brutally, using her hair throughout to control her movements. As was his usual preference, he made sure to withdraw briefly as he came, to soil her face with his come before forcing her to swallow the remainder. Done, he replaced her gag, got back under the covers and relaxed.

In the meantime, I had not been idle. Indeed, on every thrust Master made into the girl’s mouth, I found myself dropping my ass down from the cage top, causing the harness to pull the dildo sharply into my ass. My stretched nipples were stimulated by every movement, and my lips and tongue continued to service the rubber cock which was locked within my mouth, all causing my arousal to build with every passing second. I had closed my eyes for a moment, indulging all the feelings within me, then I felt Master’s eyes on me again.

I looked up at him, and he was indeed staring right into my face, smiling. As he looked right through me, into my very soul, I felt almost like a dialogue took place between us.

I was suffering, in pain, humiliation and arousal, and I felt the urge to beg for mercy. Master’s eyes seemed to ignore the unspoken plea.

I then got sulky, feeling only the misery of my bonds. Master’s eyes seemed to note the change, seemingly displeased. Yes, he knew me well, and I was still resisting.

I had to be a better slave; I had to please him. I smiled, at least with my eyes, since my mouth was filled with the cock gag. He simply watched me, probing, until I was distracted by the arousal of both my clamped tits and my filled ass. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, again stimulating my aroused, screaming nipples. I could smell my own juices now, as they were beginning to drip down my thighs. And I knew Master could see it all.

He rose from the bed and came to the rear of my cage. Taking a finger, he scooped up a bit of my juice, then came to my face. Smiling, he wiped the finger directly under my nose, so I would smell my own juice all night. He then smiled at me and said, “Be a slave!”

He returned to the bed, then removed the other girl’s gag again. He placed his soft cock in her mouth, and she began to nurse on it, gently, almost like a child at a mother’s breast. Indeed, before Master finished training her, his cock would become the source of her life-blood. As she began to suck him in earnest to another erection, moaning her own denied arousal, I knew she would train well.

For myself, I would have to be satisfied with my slave-bonds. I, also, would continue to train well. Perhaps, if I performed well enough, I might earn the right to spend tomorrow night with his cock in my mouth. As the thought passed through my mind, I strained again in my bonds, pushing the dildo yet deeper into my ass, pulling harder on my clamped nipples, sucking harder on the rubber cock locked in my mouth. I moaned deeply in my arousal, then opened my eyes to see Master shooting another load down the throat of his newest slave.

Yes, we would both serve master well. The new girl in his bed, sucking his cock, and me in my cage. And the lower we descended in our enslavement, the more we would love our slavery. Even now, as I felt the pain of my lengthening bondage ordeal, it didn’t feel like pain. It felt like the loving hand of my Master.

Hours later, in the wee hours of the morning, when the pain of my long-bound arms awakened me again, I flexed against the straps, the clamps and the dildo in my ass. Opening my eyes, I saw the form of Master’s new slave, sleeping soundly in her hog-tie, Master’s cock still in her mouth. She, also, looked happy and content in her slavery.

I smiled around the rubber cock locked in my mouth, flexed my ass one more time around the dildo and felt the arousal of my own body. I then shut my eyes again and slept, dreaming happy dreams of serving my Master.

Copyright © 1999
Master Ivan Press