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This story is dedicated to Lady Orchid, Mystress, the Domme Corps and MystressWorld.com
As I walk down the stairs I try to muster some kind of rebellion within myself. How can I so easily let this happen? Not even 24 hours ago I was a normal guy, so average that being described as a nice guy was a compliment. Now I am walking down my own staircase naked but for a cruel plastic prison that now binds my cock and balls. Not just naked, that would almost be normal. I'm bare. Not a hair remains below my eyes. I have never felt so exposed and vulnerable in my life.
Still I take step after step. My cock continues to try to get hard, my balls ache with need. Every part of my body is hypersensitive to the slightest sensation. That is every part but the part that needs it the most, my captive cock. I try to will myself soft, try to gain some kind of control, but the weight of the cage, the tightness of the ring around my cock and balls constantly remind me of my predicament.
I start to think that my new chastity device must have been invented by a particularly cruel woman. I can see my cock, but I cannot touch it. I try to put it out of my mind but I cannot ignore the sensations it forces upon me, I cannot get hard, I cannot get feel anything other than bound and controlled. The sensation is maddening in the extreme.
I take a deep breath and step into my living room. Denise sits in my favorite chair, working away on my laptop. She notices me standing in the doorway and I once again see a predatory smile.
"Come stand right here," she motions to a spot in front of her, "Hands behind your head, feet spread." I take position in front of her finding myself not able to do anything but stare submissively at the floor. Once again the camera starts to flash. I feel my heart begin to pound and my face begin to flush. I sense her stand up and move behind me, again the damnable camera flashes, now recording my tortured backside.
Once again I try to find some sense of rebellion in me but nothing materializes. Am I actually enjoying this?
I feel her hands come around my body and start to stroke and caress my chest. I momentarily release my hands from behind my head.
She grabs my nipples hard, "Don't move!" she commands. I once again lock my hands behind my head.
She continues to caress my chest, my stomach, my thighs, my imprisoned cock and balls. I try not to react but constant low moan starts in the back of my throat. Suddenly she grabs my ass hard, the low moan turns into a yelp of pain. I hear her make a soft sound of pleasure from behind me.
Again her hands begin to explore my chest and back. My cock is rages inside its small cage.
"Do you like your new look?" she whispers into my ear.
I finally find a voice which sounds quite pathetic even to me. "No," I reply.
Immediately my nipples are once again grabbed and twisted, only this time she does not let go. "Wrong answer," she whispers. I try to have a rational thought as she continues to twist and pinch my nipples mercilessly. I can feel her breath in my ear, her body pressed against my back.
"Yes?" I question trying to stand still.
"Wrong answer," she again breathes in my ear, twisting even harder. I yelp in pain feeling tears starting to form.
"Say: I love my new look, Mistress," she whispers in my ear. I repeat her instructions. She twists harder. "Sound like you mean it," she says starting to bite my ear.
"I love my new look, Mistress!" I plead, my hands starting to ache from the effort of not moving them.
"Say: I love being a smooth, hairless little slut," she growls into my ear.
"I love being a smooth, hairless little slut," I proclaim.
"Good boy, kneel." Denise says triumphantly.
I almost fall to my knees, my heart pounding, my breath ragged.
"Put your hands behind your back and leave them there," she commands.
Any illusion of rebellion on my part is lost, it is just easier to obey. Denise snaps some more pictures of me, I wonder why she continues to have to record my humiliation when I see something new sitting on my coffee table. For the first time in my life I actually feel my eyes widen and my mouth drop as I see the pictures.
A picture of me down on all fours, wearing nothing but a tight little thong, my ass high in the air kissing some woman's high heel clad foot. Another of me in the same position, now carefully licking what looks to be a man's boot. A picture of me, now naked, bent over, tears running down my face as a paddle in the background is raised to strike my ass. Me on my knees sporting a very hard cock leaning forward to kiss a very shapely woman's ass. Another, still on my knees, still with a raging hard on, now licking some guy's leather covered crotch. Me tied to my bed, a pair of panties carefully arranged over my nose, still sporting a very hard cock although now the cock is hairless. Picture after picture, each one forcing me to relive the moments of the last 18 hours.
Denise catches me looking at the pictures and smiles, "By the way, you are out of photo paper. Don't worry though, I've sent all these pictures home so I can print out any you are missing."
"Now I want you to listen to me very carefully," Denise says leaning forward in her chair. "It is very obvious to me, and anyone that saw your little performance last night, and anyone that sees these pictures, that you are a submissive. You may not have recognized this in yourself, but it is very clear that your cock has and a boy's cock never lies. You are going to be my slave, my slut, my whore, my sissy and any other role I choose for you. As long as I have known you I suspected you were submissive and I am very pleased that my initial suspicions were right. I just had to get you in the right place at the right time."
She leans back in the chair a very clear look of triumph on her face.
"Now you may try to deny this but all these pictures suggest otherwise," she says very seriously, picking up a picture of me kneeling in my thong my erection clearly evident, "and I would hate to have to start making these pictures more public."
I look at her intently trying to decide if she is bluffing. She returns my look and I instantly know she is not bluffing. My eyes drop under her unyielding stare.
"Good boy," she says, "Now it's time for you to learn some new words, say: Please let me be your slave, Mistress."
I swallow and take several breaths, I know I do not really have any choice and ask myself several times; Am I enjoying this? Before I even realize I am speaking it comes from my lips.
"Please let me be your slave, Mistress."
All I can hear is the blood rushing through my ears, my own ragged breath as I kneel before her. I ask again, "Please let me be your slave, Mistress."
Finally, she rises from the chair, steps to me and running her fingers through my hair says, "Oh yes my little submissive you may be my slave, and much more."
I feel a barrier fall inside me and realize yet another step has been taken.
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