It started innocently enough, a playful comment made over dinner while we got to know each other. Maybe it was the wine; maybe it was her playful grin that at once delighted me and gave me a sense of longing, something that told me that I like this smile and I'd like to see it more. Regardless, the result is evident and I guess the beginning circumstances no longer matter because here I find myself, a little more than three months later, held captive by her charms and near the point of begging for more. But as I sit here, nervously checking the street below through the crack in my blinds as she searches for a parking space on my street, I know I would make the same comment again and wish for the same answer and result.
When I see her walking up the street toward my flat, a pang of desire and excitement shoots straight to my caged cock. I've been confined in this cage for the past ninety days because she had the power to hold me to that comment made over dinner. Over the past three months we've seen each other often and each time I've asked for even a few minutes break from the cage she's reminded me that I had agreed as an initial condition of my submission to remain locked up for ninety days while we established a connection. The firmness and resoluteness with which she has managed her end of the bargain has surprised me and now, with the deal concluded, the thought of freedom and the volcanic orgasms that await me have me near trembling. In fact, the promise of release this evening has been at the forefront of my thoughts for the past six weeks.
I greet her at the door and she looks more beautiful than before, something that seems true each time I see her. Inviting her in, I take her bag and set it aside excusing myself while she strides into my flat with a confidence suggesting complete ownership. As has become our ritual, she seats herself comfortably in the high-backed chair in my parlor, crosses her legs and waits for me. I return, now naked, hand her a glass of white wine and kneel at her feet. We exchange pleasant conversation and laugh easily, each comfortable and content to be together again. Our arrangement has worked exceedingly well but now that our agreed upon three months has passed the future is uncertain and I wonder how or if I should broach the subject of the beyond. She speaks of it first.
"So, our three month agreement concludes this evening. Where does it go from here?"
"Yes, Ma'am, it does conclude this evening and I've thought of little else for quite some time now," I offer with a soft smile.
She reaches down with her right hand and takes my left nipple between her thumb and index finger, pinching it with medium strength but strong enough to cause me to buckle slightly. "I suppose," she begins, her fingers still locked on my nipple, "we'll see where it goes from here." She increases the pressure on my nipple and begins twisting it slightly clockwise. I whimper slightly which seems to encourage her as her grip tightens. With her left hand she reaches forward, grabbing a handful of hair on the back of my head and pulls me closer to her. She whispers, "I am going to hurt you tonight and I'm going to make you cry. And then, when I feel you've suffered enough for me, you shall have the reward I know you desperately need and want."
She gives a final vice-like pinch and twist to my nipple before releasing me. "Retrieve your collar, cuffs, the rope, nipple clamps and my favorite cane from the closet and set them here," she says while pointing toward the table. I rise, trembling slightly and move to the bedroom where the toy closet holds the tools of her desire. Carefully selecting all the items she requires, I return to the parlor and place them on the table before kneeling respectfully again at her feet.
She glances over, checking to be sure that all the things she requires are properly assembled, then points to the cuffs. I select the wrist cuffs first, present each in order, my hand open, and palm up as she had instructed me in our first meeting. After she secures the wrist cuffs, a similar process occurs with the ankle cuffs, each leg presented to her, held erect and never touching her. Next she points to my collar and I present that with two hands while lowering my head and offering my neck, though we both know more than that is being shackled. Once my collar is locked firmly on, she instructs me to assume my position over the bondage chair.
I make myself as comfortable as possible with my legs spread wide on either side of the rear legs of the chair and then lean forward over the chair back with my hands resting on the seat. She works with practiced proficiency securing my wrists and ankles to the O-bolts screwed tightly into the chair. She moves around in front of me, flicks my right nipple to harden it then quickly attaches the clover clamp, repeating the same on my left nipple and then pulling down sharply on the chain connecting the two. I gasp immediately as the pain shoots through my chest. She laughs, takes my chin in her hand and raises my face to look at her. "We're only getting started," she says with a sadistic smirk before slapping me across the face with what seems like all her strength. Despite my best efforts, another whimper escapes me but I am immediately in my most submissive mindset.
I catch my breath and attempt to gain my composure as she walks from the parlor to the bedroom. When she returns she immediately slips a blindfold over my eyes then whispers, "I'm going to remove your cage now but even after I free your hands, you will not touch your cock unless I instruct you to, is that understood?" I nod my head in agreement, adding, "Yes, Ma'am" for good measure.
She works quickly, snipping the plastic lock attached to my frenum before retrieving her key and unlocking the main lock. The cage slips off first and then she forces the ring from under my balls and pulls it off. The freedom, after ninety days of confinement, is like nothing I have experienced before and it's was difficult to keep my wits about me. The urge to stroke my cock is unbelievably strong, but I know better than to be disobedient and I'm thankful that my hands are bound.
"Thank you, Mistress, thank you so much," I say in barely a whisper.
She pauses, asking me, "What are you thanking me for, marc?"
"Thank you for keeping me locked up Mistress and thank you for letting me out and, well, just thank you," is all I can manage.
She simply laughs and takes my cock in her hand, adding, "I'm sure you'll thank me again later, too, my boy." Her hand on my neglected cock causes it to begin growing instantly. She grips me tighter and in almost no time it has reached its full length and hardness. She strokes it slowly and methodically and soon my body is alive with intense pleasure. Through clenched teeth an almost inaudible "Oh Goddess" escapes me and then she stops, leaving my hard cock twitching just moments from exploding.
I hear her walking to the table and back and can sense her standing next to me upon her return. Her hand slowly moves up and down my exposed ass before that warmth is replaced by the thin, cool line of a cane. The first stripe of the cane stings me unexpectedly despite my knowing it is coming. She follows it with twenty-nine more in quick succession before thankfully pausing.
She comes to stand beside me again, taking my cock in her hand and begins stroking it anew. She bends slightly forward and whispers in my ear, "We're just getting going." Through labored breath I stammer an almost non-committal "Thank you Mistress, I only want to please you." She tugs slightly on the nipple clamps and then strokes my cock for another few seconds, sensing somehow that much more attention and I wouldn't be able to hold back.
She steps back again, measuring the distance with her cane and then places it against my ass. The first swat finds the place she had hit the most in the first round and I can feel the skin burning in precise lines. She works more slowly and methodically with this set, calculating the strength and placement with precision. Somewhere around the tenth stripe I begin tightening my ass cheeks in hopes of lessening the pain. By the fifteenth my face is burning and my breathing labored while I hope only that I can make it to the end without losing it. At thirty she stops again and returns to the chain on the nipple clamps, pulling them in an up and down fashion which sends starbursts of pain through my upper chest. And then her hand finds my cock again. She stokes it slowly, the pre-cum leaking from the tip providing ample lubricant for her attentions.
I begin mumbling, "Oh Mistress, oh Mistress, thank you, Mistress" until my voice trails off. She leans forward toward my ear, "Thank you for what, marc?" Through gasps of breath I manage to stammer, "Thank you for caning me Mistress, thank you so much. And thank you for stroking me." She laughs and then tells me sadistically, "I'm going to cane you more now, marc." I nearly scream, "Yes! Yes, please cane me more Mistress, please" as I try fucking her hand, completely aroused by her desire to inflict more pain. She releases my cock, backs up and without preamble begins a new set with greater strength. Although I try counting, I am delirious from the intoxicating combination of pain and pleasure and lose track of her strokes somewhere around eight. She continues through my cries and I can only assume she stopped again at thirty.
