Showing posts with label true story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label true story. Show all posts

Saturday 5 September 2015

Promotion for boy

You will know from my last post that my boy and I have our ups and downs, like any couple in any long term relationship - there are always little glitches.

The summer holidays prove to be a testing time for us as we have separate holidays and children mean that we spend 6 weeks with very minimal contact. Our communication is mainly by text and this often leads to misunderstandings and fallouts. This year was no different and we had some difficult moments.

   ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Our first meeting after the 6 weeks summer break was a mere 2 hours together, but we had privacy. My boy had been restrained in his device almost continually for those 6 weeks and I knew he was so looking forward to me going to meet him with the keys to give him some relief. He had been telling me how desperate he was, how he needed the cage off and to have some stimulation. He was so very desperate for some stimulation, and knowing it was coming, his texts showed me that he was very needy and excited for my visit with the keys.

I duly arrived with the keys. My boy's actions and facial expressions told me he was feeling very submissive and eager for his release. As we stood, kissing against the wall, I told him he was going to have a special treat today. 

(Cocklet in my mouth perhaps...lubed rubber hands sliding up and down cocklet's length perhaps...orgasm... ?) I could imagine him thinking these things....and he told me he wanted it to be a surprise. I took no notice of his request to maintain anticipation, and instead told him I would be removing the cage and allowing cocklet to become hard. 

A bit of an anti-climax for him, as he expected as much after so long imprisoned! I imangined he was thinking I was giving him just a taster of what was to come - the cage removed, and then...... fun for cocklet.

We went to the table which he had got out ready for me at my request. Rope and hitting implements were also laid out at my request.

After removing his device as promised, I instructed him to lay face down on the table, cocklet poking through the hole. I tied his hands behind his back, and then began to tell him of my new plans.

"I have decided I am going to start touching cocklet less from now on. Denying him orgasms doesn't seem to be having the desired affect any more" 

"Oh it IS Mistress, it really is."

"I have noticed a change in you since the cage has been on for longer over the holidays." (He had, towards the end of the holiday, been making noticeable efforts to please me and be good, knowing that our meeting was approaching and that his speculated stimulation was near, making sure he had earned his reward.)
"I like him so much more since I haven't been touching him."

"Oh no Mistress, not after all this time, please, he needs touching, please, no Mistress."

"Don't worry. It's ok. Shh... (his whimpering subdued only slightly), It's a promotion! It means you can be a better boy for me. It will give you much nicer feelings of frustration and submission. It will be lovely. It's a special thing. .. and ... do you know what...? You will actually thank me for doing this to you."

Cocklet throbbed and dripped through his hole in the table. He flicked and danced about  in sheer desperation for something, anything. Anything at all. 

It was a pure delight to watch and made me feel very loving towards my cocklet.

My boy, with his hands tied behind his back, cocklet out of reach but so incredibly desperate and sensitive and needy. Unable to reach beneath the table, only able to push against air. Into nothing. 

"I realise darling, that you need something. Some physical contact. But my hand will not be touching cocklet today. In fact, we will be reducing any touching at all that cocklet gets. But I will let him know that he has been out today. I will let him have some physical relief."

And so I proceeded with the implements left out for me. The slapper, the crop, the metal, beady cat-o'-ninetails. And I began first hurting his body. Then, I turned him over so cocklet was layed against his belly for me. And I let cocklet know he was out. I hurt him. Balls, cocklet - his length, head, topside, underside, left and right. I hurt him till I felt he was fully awakened, til every part of him had had some contact with my control.

Then I sat my boy up.

Cocklet rock hard, erect, desperate.

I layed on my front, my mouth close to cocklet, and I brought my boys hand round in front of him, almost close enough for him to touch.

And there, I layed, closed my eyes, and opened my mouth... (at last, a treat for cocklet?...) And I slid my wet lips down, down over his finger, which I held right up close next to cocklet. My boy watched intently, barely able to stifle the need for my lips on cocklet, but imagining.....if only. I tormented him in this way for quite some time...making him watch this torture.

Finally, untouched cocklet's time was up, and he went back into protection. 

Wasn't that a lovely treat my love? Just being hard now is going to be what you yearn for. Cocklet in my mouth, sexual relief, pushing into me, my hand wrapped around him... those things are gone now. Cocklet has been promoted to a new level of denial. 

He will now yearn only to be hard... if only he could be erect.

.....


"Thank-You, Mistress"

Wednesday 20 May 2015

First Days Play with a New Toy.



It had been 6 months and 5 days. Denied and constantly caged, except for when I let him out, supervised. 

I had a new toy to introduce him to. I had bought it and saved it for a special occasion. Today was the special day. He knew nothing of it, except that he was going to be experiencing something new.





Although it fitted my mouth perfectly when I tested it for size, it was a struggle for him to get it in. We eventually had to compromise with it tilted slightly backwards to accommodate his small jaw stretch. I fastened it tightly behind his head and then proceeded to wrap his head with black cling wrap that I had salvaged from a recent parcel. I kept his mouth free, but it was very easy to apply a smaller piece of the black plastic just over his mouth, to assert control.

I loved how his mouth was held open, ready. An orifice for my amusement. I could put in there whatever I wished to. And, as I did so, I reminded him how it was his duty to serve me. To be obedient. He does forget sometimes, his place. He does, in the every day world forget, and asserts his opinion, his right, his feelings. I very rarely, if ever, say anything at the time. But I save the evidence, and recount the correct manner for a slave when he is appropriately beneath me, mentally.

Today, he was very beneath me. I made him so, and I loved making him so. The things that I dropped into the circular ring which force held his mouth open were bad. They lowered him, and made him something less. They made him my slave. My obedient worshipper, willing to take whatever I dropped into the disposal unit his mouth hole had become.

And then, when he thought I had made my final insult, I asked if he wanted the most disgusting thing ever. At first he couldn't think what could be more disgusting. But he was thinking with his head and not mine. For me, there was the most vile and disgusting thing imaginable yet to come. But it required him to produce it.

And so I placed a plastic bag over his desperate, dancing and straining cocklet. I instructed him to rub against the bed, and as he was ready to produce the most disgusting thing ever, he was to take the last morsel from my hand and devour it. For this, the ring was removed from his mouth.

He told me later that the contents of the bag has been relief to his mouth, after the horrendous things I had placed in there. 

I felt no regret, unease, guilt or lessening of my will for him to consume my offering, despite the way he struggled with it in his mouth. Despite the way he gagged on it. All that did was make me feel proud that my boy was doing this for me. He was taking all that I was giving. It was a very deep act of submission.

It became a very loving act. It became something that brought a closeness. And he, now, when I look at him, is lower. Lower than ever. But I treasure him far more as my slave for committing himself to my will. 

For accepting humiliation for my pleasure.

Wednesday 12 February 2014

useless cock - true story

'It's getting smaller' she observed as her fingers danced along his swollen cock.

'It must be all this time locked up, it's making it smaller.  It's becoming so tiny.'

Fear gripped his belly even as his cock became yet more rigid at her humiliating words.

'Then don't keep it locked up Mistress - let it have some time out of the cage for a while'

He was terrified of his cock becoming useless to her. Terrified of it being put to one side, left untouched in favour of her rubber surrogate cock or even worse, that of another man. 

He knew though that she would never take up his suggestion.  The fact of his cock being locked away was the very basis of their relationship.  The one reason she needed him.

She replied, 'No. Perhaps I'll just keep him locked away all the time.  If he's too small for me then there's no need for him to come out.'

His belly churned deeper into fear.

Today was a special day though.

Today she allowed him to be inside her.  Allowed him to feel the ecstasy of making love with the woman that ruled his whole life.

If only it wasn't so difficult...

Trying, trying so hard to push cock into her.  Trying to ignore the feel of her smooth skin against his.  Not to be affected by her the allure of her pixie like features, her sensual body - petite, yet still managing to be deliciously curvy in all the places that draw a man's eye..  Trying to control himself as he felt the heat of her pussy gripping his cock relentlessly.

Pushing in a little bit... pushing... please please don't move... a little more... stop.  Withdraw. Head of cock against her wetness.  Pushing in again... eyes closed.  Panting. Panting.  Please.... Her fingers pulling at him, urging him inside.... cock pulsing... right on the edge... stop... pant... pant... try to control himself... her hips rocking.. my god... please.....

A week since cock was out of the cage.  Since any stimulation whatsoever.  Prior to that, three weeks of cock lock-down.  Yet now she expected him to fuck her.  And he just couldn't do it.  Cock was just too too sensitive.

His mind awash with the certain knowledge that if he couldn't satisfy her, she would find another man who could, he tried so hard to press his cock into her.  Knowing that she would find that man and make him watch. Show him what he couldn't achieve.  He tried to back away from the edge of orgasm.

Eventually, he managed to push cock all the way inside her.  Maybe 10 minutes of trying before he achieved even this.  Slowly gaining control of himself enough to give a couple of little thrusts.  Before suddenly having to pull out of her on the very edge of an explosion.  How useless he felt.  How useless his cock had become to a woman.  And she had purposefully made him this way. 

This was the effect of 4 months, 1 week and 3 days without an orgasm.  Of repeated lengthy cock lock downs, until his cock was so sensitive he could explode almost from just the wrong thought passing through his mind.

As he slowly gained control... and she orgasmed.... again and again... he became increasingly maddened by his own lack of orgasm.

It was so so so long since he had one.  The need was there constantly.  And here she was, having orgasms like they were confetti.  His need.  His extreme need.  He needed an orgasm.  He NEEDED one.  He couldn't take this anymore.  He couldn't go any longer without one.  Cock was on the edge of orgasm constantly.  He was holding it at bay by sheer force of will, but he couldn't cope any more.  He had reached his limit.

Four months was enough.  Four months was too much.  He became despondent. Hopeless in his arousal.  There was no hope for him.  Her orgasms were caused by and heightened by his suffering - this somehow made it worse.  He had no hope. But he couldn't continue.  He felt such an aching sense of loss.  The loss of his orgasm.

Lost in this desperation, utterly lost, he began to beg.
Quietly at first.
'Please Mistress. Please. I can't take any more now. It's been too long.  Please allow me an orgasm'
His loss and desperation mounting even further as she just continued to ride him, by now she was on top, her full, round breasts right in front of his eyes.
More urgently...
'Please please please please...'
Yet she continued to ignore him.  And ignore him.  Just using cock.
Until his pleas became sobs.  Until he was writhing in desperate agony.  Unable to cope. Yet unable to stop.  Urgent begging. Loud and insistent.  Sobbing and pathetic.

He couldn't take any more.  He truly couldn't. He just wanted, NEEDED this constant frustration to stop.

Just as he was at his peak, just as he felt the most lost, she began to soothe him.  Like a mother soothing her child, her hand stroked his face.  
Brushed back his hair.
Gentle.
Soft.
Quietly cooing to him.
'It's ok my love. It's ok.'
'But it's so hard Mistress'
'Shhhh.  I know.  I know.'

He felt her care, felt her love as she stroked and soothed him.  Telling him how well he was doing.  Telling him it was alright.  
But not for one instant did she stop.
Not for a second did she allow that desperation to recede.
Instead she heightened it.

Her lips close to his ear...
'Can you feel how wet I am?'
He lay still, trying desperately to maintain his control on cock.
'Can you feel the wetness sliding all over cock?'
Indeed he could.  She was sopping and hot.  He knew it was because of his suffering.
'It's alright. Shhhhhhhh.  It's alright.'
As she slowly tormented him with her tight wetness.

And so she continued.  Riding.  Soothing.  Cock was not just desperate, he was actually in pain.  A huge ache all along the underside.  An ache that she just enhanced and increased with her every move.  All the while soothing and encouraging him.

Never before had he felt such desperation.  Not in all the time he had served her.  Never had it ached and hurt so much.  Yet now he felt at peace.  Close. Intimate.  She allowed him to suffer.  Helped him to give himself even deeper to her.  And he adored her for it.  His desperation became not something to escape, but something to embrace. Allowing it to fill him. Embracing the ache and taking it all for her.  

His closeness to her, his submission to her, never felt so vivid as this.  
This was why he was hers so completely.
Because she loved his suffering so much. Because she allowed it to happen.
She was his Goddess and he loved her with all his heart.

But the most wonderful thing about this story, certainly from my perspective, is that every word is true.  Every word describing what Mistress Keyholder did to me today.  I am the luckiest boy in the world and am SO grateful for her.

Mistress - thank you for my suffering.  Thank you for allowing it.  Thank you so very much for such a wonderful day. I love you. xxx


Tuesday 17 December 2013

Gym Rules

One of the first tasks my boy has had since moving onto my street is to join the local gym. He did this last night while I was there.

He has rules for attending the gym;

1. You are only to go to the gym in my company or with prior permission.

2. You are not allowed to look at other women at the gym or make eye contact with them.

3. You are not allowed to initiate conversation with any other gym users.

4. If a male initiates conversation you may chat. If I woman initiates conversation you may answer politely and then discontinue the conversation unless asked another question, to which you may reply politely.
Any conversations will be reported to me.

5. If cock gets aroused by the sight of another female at the gym this must be reported immediately to me and I will deal with it accordingly.

6. You may not buy any food or drink at the gym. You may only drink the water which is supplied free.

7. You may not use the sauna without me.

You need to leave a reply here on the blog to notify me you have read and agree to these rules.

Monday 16 December 2013

Breath Play...

My boy wrote this entry some months ago now..
 
The week after my orgasm, Mistress Keyholder came to visit me again.  She wanted to play with a piece of equipment I have owned for some time, but never really used.
It consists of a rubber anaesthetic mask with a tube leading to a rubber bladder.  There is a valve on the tube which can be opened or closed to let in air.  When the valve is closed it creates a sealed unit between the mask, tube and rubber bladder.  The only air that can be breathed is the air in the rubber bladder, through the tube.  The longer the valve is kept closed, the less oxygen there is left in this air as it is taken in and out and in and out  between the lungs and the rubber bladder.

This is what's called a rebreather.

Mistress had me attach the mask over my face and lay on my bed.  Naked except for my cock cage, which she did not remove.  Mistress lay next to me, fully clothed.
At first the valve was open and though my every breath was filled with rubber, I had clean air to sustain me.  Mistress stroked my naked body, vulnerable to her touch.

Then she closed the valve.

Instantly the rubber bladder began to inflate and deflate to the rhythm of my breathing.  Every breath I took was from air inside the bladder. Air that I had breathed already.
Meanwhile Mistress lay beside me, watching.
Her hand on my caged cock.
I felt like a fly, trapped and being examined, inspected by the spider.

(Before I go on I must add that I am aware that breath play can be dangerous, as is Mistress Keyholder.  There are a number of deaths caused by it in the UK every year, although most of those deaths are caused by auto asphyxia - when someone plays alone and there is no-one to rescue them if they pass out.  Nevertheless there are risks involved and we are both aware.)

Mistress had me hold a timer whilst I was trapped in the rebreather.
She wanted to see how long it was before I struggled.
It took about a minute before I was finding it really difficult.
My breath becoming faster and faster, yet receiving no sustenance from the oxygenless air passing into my lungs.
At 1 minute 30 seconds I couldn't take any more and she opened the valve.

I was literally gasping for breath.

She did this again and again.  Whilst playing with the cage.  Telling me to imagine what it would be like to have cock free at that moment.  Oh god how I wanted that!  She wanted me to go longer, but it was so hard.  Stroking my head, stroking my belly, telling me what a good boy I was... 
It became progressively more difficult as each time I didn't get quite long enough before she closed the valve again.

And then....

She made it really hard.

I had not fully recovered before she closed the valve.  I was not ready.  But suddenly was plunged into breathing my own breath again.  A minute into it I began to panic.  My chest was rising and falling, air was going into and out of my lungs, but I just couldn't breathe.  I was panicking.  In truth I was not tied up - I could have taken the mask off at any point, but that felt like something I had no choice about.
So I panicked.

Mistress Keyholder soothed me.
Shushed me.
She did not release me.
She did not show pity.
Instead stroked my head and told me to be calm.
To take it for her.

And I did.
She calmed me down and allowed me to submit to it completely.
My vision clouded, lightheaded, all that existed was Mistress Keyholder.  Softly submitting to my owner.

The feelings... killing me softly... makes me feel like I felt when I first heard this song as a boy.  Willingly submitting to her quietly killing me.

Luckily Mistress didn't kill me.  She released me and held me quietly, letting me recover as my chest heaved.  Guiding my fingers between her legs she showed me just what taking such control over me had done to her. She told me that at some point she was going to do it to me whilst I was tied up and truly helpless.  She warned me though, that she thought she would REALLY scare me when she did that. Such was her desire and thoughts in her head...


Once I had sufficiently recovered, Mistress needing satisfying after her intense arousal... ............

 

Moving Day

My boy moved into his new house last week. It was, due to circumstances, lesser of an event than I had planned. However, it was still exciting, and is lovely having him so close to me now.

 

Tuesday 19 November 2013

Nipple play

Pure white, crisp, clean shirt. Meticulous.
Smart man. Professional. Highly respectable job.
Sat in the back of a car together.
In his work, a strong figure. Looked up to. Highly regarded.
In the back of the car, sat, clothed smartly, avoiding my eye contact.
My hand ventures to his top button, and undoes it.
This man, officially clothed, but looking down, as I undo another button.
And I think that it shouldn't be.
That I am unclothing this smart man, revealing his skin,
unsmartening him as I continue to unbutton.
Disrespecting him by spoiling his appearance.
Yet he sits motionless, allowing me.
Occasionally glancing at me,
and looking away.
Intently,
I touch his skin, beneath his shirt.
Towards his nipple.
And my fingers brush over it.
He murmurs.
And I proceed to stroke it,
because his cock is locked away,
I arouse his nipple.
I use it,
as my tool to torment him.
Rolling it, between fingertips, gently,
harder.
Stroking, pulling, squeezing, rubbing, as if it were cock in my hands...
gaining my own pleasure from doing this to him.
Arousing myself by abusing,
the smartly dressed man in his car.

And all the time, cock is locked away in unrelenting steel.
He is held tight.
Restricted.
As I sit on his lap, facing him, I feel
cock pushing up
against me,
trying so hard.
Flicking and jumping about,
desperate.
Wanting attention.

But nipple has me tonight.
Two nipples,
one in each hand,
hurting him.
Pinching,
a smart man, in the back of a car, last night...

And cock...
is locked.

 

Monday 16 September 2013

101 Days - Our Day Together - by my chaste boy

My Dearest Mistress,

Thank you for today.


This isn't the reason I love you so much, or the only reason I'm so gushy about you, but I need to tell you - today you gave me the best sexual experience of my life.
Nothing comes close.





The way you looked in your rubber.
The way you felt.
The way you smelt.
As I type about it now, think about it, cock is swelling and my heart suddenly races.

Everything you did today was so perfect. I want to live today again and again and again.



When you leant against the banister, your bottom sticking out, unzipped from the rubber... and my tongue buried inside you... 



OH

MY 

GOD!!!!

My lungs were full of the smell of rubber.  My face pushed against your beautiful, smooth bottom.  My tongue inside you.  Pressing into your hole.  I felt.... so so submissive.  I felt like your worshiper.  Degraded through having my tongue inside your bottom.  Wanting it though. Wanting it so so badly. My tongue in your bottom.  Just perfect.

And when you turned around and gave me the honour of licking your pussy... oh wow. oh wow.
It WAS an honour.

I'm not just saying that because it's the sort of thing a slave is supposed to say.  I'm saying it because if felt like an honour.  Worshiping you.  I was truly worshiping you.
The way your pussy lips stuck out through the rubber.  Wet. Hot.  Swollen. The most horny sight in the world.  The way you tasted. Felt on my tongue. The way you held my head, the way you used me.  I was your slave.  Your adoring, worshipful slave and I was in the most beautiful heaven, worshiping you there.  
When cock was free, wrapped in your scarf and I was again worshiping your pussy as you stood against the wall.... at first I wanted to touch him.  I was so, so horny and so incredibly turned on by licking you.

But then... I didn't.  I didn't need to touch him.  Cock slipped from my mind.
I became engulfed purely in your pleasure.  Existing for your pussy, for your pleasure and nothing else.
All I wanted was to please you.
All I wanted was to show you my worship, make you feel adored, make you horny and turned on.
I didn't need cock.
I just needed your pleasure to fulfil me. 

One of the best things ever happened today - you came on my face.
I am SO grateful for that.
Your orgasm fulfilled me in ways I cannot express.
Submissively.
I loved you for your orgasm.  For using me in that way.  That in itself is the most pleasurable experience for me.

In the bath... I knew what was coming obviously.  Only partly though.
I didn't know you were going to piss all over my face.
Have it run down my cheeks.
Piss into my nose.
God.
Piss into my nose.
That was hard... sort of a choking.. your piss in my nostrils.  The smell of your piss stuck in there.  Your taste in my mouth as I held a mouthful of your piss.
Pissing into my mouth... drinking you... I loved that.
Pissing into my nose - you engulfed me in absolute submission. I felt so degraded.  Controlled.  Owned.  It reminded me of the video we watched.  Of the way she spat into his nose and mouth.
I thought about this on the way home.
About you pissing on me like that whilst I was tied up.
Into my mouth.
Into my nose.  Waiting until you REALLY had to go.
And then I thought....  imagined you opening my eye, holding it open by the lid.  And pissing into my eye.  It would sting.  It would be the most degrading thing in the world.
Then doing the other one. Pissing into my eye as you held it open.

The rebreather - I have wanted to do that with you for so long.
I WANTED to please you with it.  I wanted YOU to choose when it came off.   It was very difficult for me.  It felt like you were never going to take it off. I thought actually that you were just going to keep it going until I ripped it off myself.  You certainly did that first time.

Being able only to breathe the rubber.
With you watching me. Kissing me.  Telling me what a good boy I was.... Oh Mistress! Oh my.  That control, is extreme.  It is so, so strong.  And my breath getting less and less, my head becoming woozy.  You kissing me.  
"Good boy." 
 Desperate for air.  And as I found it hard... when I really started to struggle, do you know what the best bit was?
Hearing your breathing.
Hearing how your breathing became faster.
Hearing a little moan escape your lips.
Knowing how my suffering was affecting you.  It made me want to suffer more for you.
When you opened the valve, just when I was ready to rip it off again... suddenly I could breathe again. Though still, through rubber.  I wanted you to do it again.  Close the valve again. Control me again.  And again. And again. Playing with my breath, my air over and over.

I loved it.

Being inside you today... it felt like making love.  I made love to you.  When cock could move.
He did feel so very useless though.  I should be able to thrust into you hard, fast.  But I can't.  Sometimes I can barely move.  And if you try to move me, or move myself, it really is just too much.  You can't possibly know how frustrating that is.  How desperate I am to please you.  How cock feels like he has betrayed me.  Just useless.  He can't do his job.

And when I couldn't thrust into you.  I knew you would like me to.  I knew you wanted it.  I imagined you using a cock that COULD fuck you like you wanted.

Today you have given me such a gift.  Such submission. Such lovely, lovely strong feelings.
I loved every second that I spent with you.

I love you more than I have ever loved before.
And the things you told me - in person and in text - about your feelings - make my heart filled to bursting.

I am SO grateful to you. For everything.

I am your grateful, chaste, adoring and happy boy. xxx

_____________________________________________________
My boy, as you will be able to tell, fulfils me completely - sexually, emotionally. He is my everything..
And I love him very, very much.

Thursday 20 June 2013

The Smell of Mistress

Usually it's a knicker thing. Most men, if invited to bury their noses into an item of a woman's clothing would chose knickers. Indeed, my boy is no different. Given half the chance he would have them over his nose in an instant, however, it was not my knickers that he focussed on...

He broached the subject tentatively, initially, mentioning my boots, and my feet, kissing my feet, and developing the conversation to test my reaction. I have told him never to fear discussing anything with me. Never to fear ridicule or misunderstanding... and as time has gone on, he has learnt to trust what I say and to venture more and more of his fetish desires to me, always, so far receiving a positive response from me.

And so he began to ask for my socks. I liked his asking. I liked it so much that I didn't want it to stop, and so I told him that he would not be getting them for a while yet, as I liked his asking too much, and to give them would end it. And so this led to more persistent asking, the offer of paying for them, begging for them.

Those of you who know me, know that I don't do anything by halves. If I am going to do something, I do it well. And the giving of my socks was no different. I was not going to simply wear them and hand them over, smelling freshly of wash powder and newness. That was not the point.

So I after my jog, I kept my socks on. For the rest of the evening. And the next day, and the next. 3 days worth of me sweated and seeped into the very fabric of my socks. Saturated with my smell for him...

And when I next saw him, I placed them in his hands. One in his left hand, one in his right. 
He was layed naked on the bed. Not even his chastity device on. His cock was rock hard. I allowed him to draw his hands up to his face and he placed the socks over his nose as he inhaled deeply... and as he did I began to wank his cock to his breathing in of my smell. His eyes closed and he focussed entirely on his olfactory sense. He was clearly deeply pleasured by it, and that in turn deeply pleasured me - it was the most arousing, erotic thing, watching him getting off on the smell of my socks..
And without him having any say in the matter, he was in turn being sexually aroused, by my hands,  as he breathed... Until, the pleasure overwhelmed him, and he had to warn me, "please be careful, Mistress," for his arousal was such that he was close to orgasm.

As I stopped wanking him, I placed his hands back by his side, until he was ready to start again. And so it continued in this manner. With his sexual arousal being timed to his breathing in my smell. As the socks were drawn away from his face, his sexual stimulation stopped also, and vice versa, and as he breathed in, his cock was rewarded - trained into associating the smell of me with sexual reward.

Cock already knows that his arousal depends entirely on me.. but this is taking it one step further. Teaching him to depend on me.. that all that he has comes from me..

When we left his house, cock locked safely away, denied of course, I showed him that my socks had been placed under his pillow... so that when I wasn't there, he could place them over his face and at some level, I would be with my boy...

and cock could quietly pine for me.

Tuesday 11 June 2013

Birthday boy.

We had been out cycling together, and afterwards, in the car, I told him to remove his device.

He wore a tight, silky smooth cycling shirt, and I tucked his cock underneath it. Cock protested, pushed himself against the silky fabric, but the tightness of the shirt held him in place, restrained him, allowed him to press, but not escape.. and so he continued to lurch against the fabric, half trying to escape, half out of the thrill of feeling something other than cold metal encasing him.

I let my hands, my fingers, play over the silky shirt, not near cock but just feeling my boy's body..cock liked that. He wanted it to be him. He beckoned me, but my hands continued to enjoy the feel of a fit man's torso, through silkiness..

Eventually, my fingers began to brush closer to cock, and he became more excited. He jumped knowing the touches were nearing him, and the pressure on the fabric stimulated him,  just fractionally.. until at last, my finger glanced over him, the lightest touch..and it continued there, toying with cock. The lightest movements, encouraging his excitement.

I began to slide his shirt up, causing arousing friction against cock. He enjoyed it, and so the edge of silky t-shirt became his tormentor, giving him touch just enough to feel, but not enough to satisfy, the shirt went back down, but my face moved closer...

...and closer, until, through fabric, I kissed him. I kissed him, with such care and such feeling, and he responded to me.. he kissed me back.. you may laugh if you don't understand, but he did kiss me back. He leant towards me and we kissed, like lovers kiss, slowly but with intense passion. It was as if we had been reunited after a long separation, that type of kiss... and so I continued, my private, intense passion with my lover, my cock, and he reciprocated..through fabric.

And I glanced up to my boy, who was by now murmering. He looked down at our interaction - an intruder, I felt.. a peeping Tom, sneekily observing our sensuality, getting off on watching, a cuckold, distanced from me and my cock, a passive observer. But I allowed him embarrassed glances..



Spit from my mouth lubricated my fingers as I ran them over cock.. out of his fabric constraints, wet fingers now tormented him. Soaked wet fingers, my thumbs, my tongue, my mouth...I became deeply involved with my lover, intensely aroused by him.. our interaction..and the murmerings from my boy became more desperate, needy..

Today my cock was 42.

Do you think he got an orgasm for his birthday?

How well do you know me?..

If you know me well, you know the answer.

It took quite a while to get him away, secured in metal...

Happy Birthday my love...x

Friday 17 May 2013

The Game

My boy has had just 2 orgasms this year. One after 35 days, the next after 18, the next is yet to happen.

He was close to getting it the other day.. I told him he could have one, or he could chose to play a game. He asked, "what if I chose to have it now?" I said, "you wont get to play my game".

And so, partly because he really didn't want to spoil his denial (I think) and partly to please me, he said he'd play my game, and asked what it was. When his cock was safely locked away again I told him a little bit about the game. I told him, he would have to pay for his next orgasm, but it wasn't just a case of paying. I would make it into a challenge. If he failed, he'd have to wait until I next chose to offer him a chance to try and pay me.

This is the story, in his words...

The Game - A True Story
By My boy

Day forty nine.

Exactly seven weeks of chastity.  
Seven weeks of lockdown.  
The only time my cock came out it's steel prison was for Mistress to tease play with it. It was HER toy she said.  Hers and hers alone. 

Merciless denial, constant torment.

Day forty nine and she was offering me a choice.

Unlocked, teased, deep inside her but unable even to pleasure her properly in my extremely sensitive and desperate state.  I wanted so much to thrust deep inside her.  To give her the fucking that I knew she wanted.  But just couldn't. She had deliberately made me unable, deliberately made my cock useless.

It was in this position, buried inside her yet hardly able to move, that she gave me my choice.

'You may choose to cum today.  I will let you.  Or you can play my game.'

Indecision filled my mind.  I WANTED to cum.  I wanted nothing more. I had an urgent and overwhelming need for it.  Yet... yet I also needed the submission that suffering for her brought.  I needed her pleasure, I needed the frustration.

'Don't you want to play my game?' she asked.

She had refused to even tell me what it involved until after I made the decision.
Looking into her eyes, sinking into her, I had no choice.

'Yes please Mistress.'

Her whispered, 'Good boy' almost made me explode.

The game was simple.
I would have to pay for my next orgasm.  She would give me a small window of opportunity to get the money to her and if I managed, then I would be given my orgasm.  I would get one chance per week until I eventually won.

My mind reeled, thinking about it.  Surely it was simple?  All I had to do was quickly drive to her home, hand her the money.  Surely that would be easy? But when would she pick?  Would she make it difficult, knowing my work pattern and pick a time of peak traffic flow with a short time window?  Would she make the cost beyond what I could afford?
I wondered just when I would get my next orgasm, wondered if I had made the right choice after seven weeks of denial.

My helplessness hitting me like a brick wall, desperation filling me as she rode me, I fell into utter hopelessness.  Sobbing for the orgasm I couldn't have.  That I had voluntarily sacrificed.  Sobbing at my situation, yet knowing I needed it so badly.
She quietly held me as I sobbed.

Friday found me sat at my desk at work, concentrating hard and feeling stressed.  A difficult piece of work had to be finished by the end of the day and I was unsure even where to find all the information.  Then the knock knock of Mistress's text hit my phone.  Every time I hear that knocking it feels like I am being summoned.

'You need to post me a twenty pound note today.....'

The game was on.

But she didn't want just any twenty pound note.  It had to have one of her initials and two numbers from the year of her birth in the serial number.

Oh my.

I sat at my desk, flushed, staring at the phone.
My cock was a rod of steel within the cage.
My tummy was churning.

What could I do?
How could I get the right twenty?
Experimentally I asked a couple of colleagues if they had a twenty.
They just laughed and then probed why I wanted one.
That wasn't going to work.

Shit.

Lunchtime found me dashing out the building to the bank.  Maximum withdrawal - £400.  My fingers trembling as the cash machine worked, please please please have the right note.

And there it was.  The golden nugget with the right numbers and letters.  And then another. And another!  It wasn't as hard as I had worried, in fact it now seemed easy.  I was going to get my orgasm!

Smiling happily, I sent a photo to her.
Then.... oh.  I couldn't fully remember her address.  I knew the postcode and street name, but the number of her house eluded me. 
Simple.  A text to his Mistress would sort that out.

She replied, 'That's part of the game.'

Time was ticking and I had a meeting at work.  It was almost 1pm.  Quickly back to the office, I brought up google maps onto her house.  
The street number didn't show.
Street view, that would do it...
Which wasn't quite good enough to show the number of her house!
Panicking slightly now I realised I was late for my meeting.

The meeting finished after 3pm.  
Time was getting short.
Mistress seemed delighted by the game and my struggles.  It didn't help that my cock was responding to her.

Tick. Tick.
How to find her address?
Tick.
Tick.

Her emails - checked.
Scratching my head, tummy fluttering.  
I couldn't miss this orgasm!
Then I had it.  A simple check I should have done right away brought her full address into the palm of my hand.
Elation filled me.

I dashed to the post office to send it recorded delivery.  This money could NOT be lost in the post.  It was worth far more than twenty pounds.  It was worth seven weeks of frustration and denial.
Arriving at the post office, I couldn't believe it.
A sign on the door announced it was closed due to industrial action.
Panic hit me again.
I could just see her glee, the smile on her face at my predicament.  I could imagine her enjoyment if I failed.  But what would the next week bring if I did?  It might be even harder!
Rushing through town, desperate now I went in search of another post office.
Twenty minutes of searching and there it was.  Open.

I breathed a sigh of relief and joined the queue.

Money posted, I slowly walked back to work.
I had just paid for an orgasm.
My only hope to cum was to pay for it.
My cock throbbed in it's cage.
My face flushed hot and red.
Butterflies filled my tummy.
I had PAID for an orgasm.

Then her text arrived informing me I would still have to wait an extra week for it.  An earlier misdemeanour which she had told me about had earnt me a punishment of additional denial. It was not being overlooked.

Another week.... my minimum term would be nine weeks. Sixty three days.



I walked back to work trying to hide the bulge created by my cock throbbing in the cage.
I felt the hopelessness of the continued wait filling me.  The need engulfing me.
I had paid for an orgasm and now had to wait.
I loved Her.

I loved Her game.

Thursday 2 May 2013

My Cock.. (A love letter)

I love him for being locked up for me..

I love him for needing me..

I love him for being so sensitive

when I touch him

when your shirt touches him

just brushing over him.. how he needs for a touch...

I love how he feels..

when he is wet, when he slips between my fingers..

I love how he makes you make little noises...

of desperation... how he contorts your face

with frustration..

I love how he fits inside my mouth so well,

(I do so love cock in my mouth)

I love how it makes you say, Mistress, please be careful

In a breathless, nervous way

because you know you are not allowed to cum,

let alone cum in my mouth.

I love how we gaze at him, both of us, together, just staring at him,

When he so desperately wants more,

And we both know that your hands can't touch him anymore.

So he waits, until I say, that is it for today,

and he goes away, into his metal home,

his prison,

frustrated,

denied,

owned.

Owned for life now.

This is his lot...



While you are still free to wank over the idea,

My cock lives this way - and I love him for it.

Sunday 17 March 2013

Can't Cope..

Just the other day, a friend of mine texted me. He has his own Mistress and is locked in secure chastity by her.

He said he didn't think he could cope anymore.

He had gone beyond hopelessness. He had gone beyond the excitement, the thrill of the fear and was now facing actual fear...

He didn't think he could do it anymore... 

Beyond what he could physically and mentally cope with anymore.

Just imagine that place, where he was.

I replied...

'..but you have no option.'

Turmoil, complete anguish.. complete overwhelming inability to cope...

and still,  he had to remain there.. and suffer,

while she (and I) enjoyed it.

Thursday 28 February 2013

Meeting..

I decided I had to see him...

The man who had written to me, and locked himself for me, and was writing a report every day for me, I had to see him.

On paper, in writing, in our chats and discussions he seemed so very right for me. But I didn't want to accept anyone who was less than exactly right.

The thing for me, my sticking point on so many occasions, was that my chastity slave, if ever I had one, had to look right, physically for me, and I am so damn awkward. I know I am. It's a fault, but if he wasn't physically compatible, I knew the dynamic wouldn't be there and it just wouldn't work.

I had seen photos of him. He was really on the borderline for me. I just couldn't tell from a photo, and before we got anymore involved, I wanted to know for sure how I felt about him.

So we arranged a day to meet.

I really wasn't nervous at all. I had, perhaps without realising it, convinced myself that he wouldn't be right. I was ready for the feeling of yet another disappointment. I knew that after all these years of searching it wasn't likely to happen.

I also knew that I would know with my first glance of him. It would be a very immediate yes or no.

I waited in the car park, and as his car pulled up alongside mine, I looked sideways.

He smiled.

I have odd taste in men.. I go for the type that are not typically attractive..and this man was just a normal man.

But as he smiled, and as I looked, I knew that I was looking at a man who I could take on as my chastity sub.

What had previously been borderline, was now yes.

As we walked and sat in a cafe, and talked, I noticed little things about him that were important to me; he dressed smartly, he was clean, had neatly trimmed nails, his shoes were smart and polished. He had taken care to present himself as best he could for me. And, throughout our time together, his focus was entirely on me; he fetched me tea, and attended to me, opening doors, helping me with my coat, and when attractive women in the street walked past us, his attention didn't falter for a second (I watched discretely..)

I knew that when we got back to the car, he would ask me to take his keys, and I knew I would take them. He had even taken exceptional care to present the keys to me perfectly..

They came in a box which had had purchased specially, along with the pliers to his PA ring, and with a letter begging me to allow him to commit to me. I asked him if he still meant those words, after having met me. 

He said yes. 

So I placed the red box in my handbag, and our chastity led relationship began...

I am, now for the first time ever, Mistress Keyholder - Holder of chastity keys.