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This story is dedicated to Mistress Marianne, Mystress and all the Domme Corps of MystressWorld.com.
I took deep breaths drawing the scent of Denise deeply into me. The taste of her filled my mouth. I could not even lift my eyes to look at her. Even with the memories of last night, I could not remember ever being so controlled, so dominated. I shuffled on my knees trying to find a comfortable position but I quickly gave up, accepting the pain and discomfort as part of my new role.
My cock raged in its cage. The submissive half erection it was being forced into was driving me crazy. My balls ached with my need to cum. All I wanted to do was curl into a little ball on the floor; but I remained on my knees at Denise's feet waiting for her next command.
Finally she stood, taking my chin into her hand and forcing me to look into her eyes. I saw satisfaction, amusement and power in her deep blue eyes and realized that she was enjoying herself far too much to relinquish her hold on me.
She looked down and said, "Tsk, Tsk somebody seems to have made a mess. Good little slave boys always clean up their messes." I looked down and saw a puddle of precum that had leaked from my captive cock glistening on the floor. I looked around trying to decide how to clean up my humiliating discharge.
"Your tongue will do just fine, slut," she commanded. I looked up at her, hoping for some pity, but those deep blue eyes had none. The small sliver of pride I had been clinging to from bringing her to orgasm instantly evaporated. I shuffled backwards on my knees and leaned forward. The humiliation of the moment almost crushed me as my hesitant tongue started to lap up my precum from the floor.
The camera once again recorded my humiliation. Somewhere deep inside me a part of me screamed. It was bad enough to have to commit these humiliating acts but to have them being constantly recorded was mortifying. Little souvenirs that Denise could savor whenever and however she wished. I also realized that with every picture Denise gained more and more hold over me.
Finally I sat back and Denise put down the camera and stroked my hair saying what a good boy I was.
"Now my little submissive that is a good rule for you to keep in mind. Little slave boys always, always, clean up their messes." Denise laughed and I cringed at what that might mean.
She squatted down in front of me and taking one of her delicate fingers gently stroked the little bit of my cock head that was exposed by the small chastity cage. The effect was electric. My sensation deprived cock jumped at the gentle stroke covering her finger with more precum. She brought it up between us and simply said, "Lick"
My tongue once again snaked forward and tasted my frustration. Again she reached down and stroked me. I moaned deep in my throat. Once again the finger was brought to my lips. "Suck," she commanded.
Over and over, the obscene little ritual repeated. Denise stroking the tiniest bit of my cock that remained exposed, my frustrated cock eagerly pumping out more and more precum, my tongue reaching for taste after humiliating taste. Finally she just held her finger up between us, my tongue reaching once again. "Oh stop it," she giggled, as she carefully coated my lips with my discharge.
"You look good with cum on your face, "she said mockingly, "suits you." I once again felt my ears burn in humiliation. "But I would like to go out and you can hardly go out in public looking like such a boy slut," Denise said standing up. "Don't move, I'll be back."
I watched her leave the room remembering her comment about how I would be worshiping her ass. I licked my lips unconsciously, once again tasting myself. As I knelt there afraid to move I looked at her shorts and silky thong carefully laid out on my couch. I looked at the piles of humiliating pictures scattered across my coffee table and I looked at my chair. My big old chair. I realized I would never see that chair quite the same way again now that I had spent who knows how long servicing Denise as I knelt before it.
Finally Denise returned and handed me a little pink thong. I looked up at her horrified that she was going to make me wear it.
"Don't be silly," she said down to me seeing my confusion. "Kiss them." I carefully place a kiss to the tiny little panties.
"Hold them out."
I hold out the panties and slowly draw them up to her hips.
"Kiss them again." I carefully lean forward and place a gentle kiss to her thong covered pussy. "Don't you think you should thank me?"
I realize what she is asking and feel another bit of resistance fall.
"Thank you Mistress for allowing me to worship you." I almost whisper.
"Again," she admonishes.
"Thank you Mistress for allowing me to worship you." I say louder.
"Better," she says, "but you really should be more grateful."
"Now go upstairs and wash your face," she points toward the stairs. "We are going out; I have put what you are to wear on your bed. Nothing else. She says with a firm tone. "Oh and slave," she says as I struggle to my feet, "shave off that silly beard. You are going to be spending a great deal of time licking pussy from now on and a smooth face is much more comfortable to sit on."
I stagger up the stairs trying to reconcile how I became such a prisoner in my own body. I remember the pictures, the now omnipresent chastity cage, and realize on some level I must have desired this. However the almost crushing humiliation remains and underneath it all a raging arousal. The arousal is overwhelming, clouding every thought, every action and perhaps worst of all I see no relief until my new Mistress desires to grant me the release that I am now constantly craving.
I look at my own cum covered face and sigh deeply. My beard of three years is about to be removed by my own hand and I question how much farther I can fall. The answer of course was quickly becoming very obvious. As far as Denise desired me to go.
I quickly shave my beard before I lose my nerve. I look at myself in the mirror and it was like I was seeing myself for the first time. My smooth face, "to improve my pussy licking," my hairless body, my locked up cock, I looked and felt like a boy slave. It took me a long time to recognize myself and it embarrassed me to see myself like this.
I wandered into my bedroom and I saw my new wardrobe. It looked far more innocent than my overactive imagination had imagined. I picked up the running shirt and slipped it on. It was far tighter than I would have normally worn but not unlike what you see some guys wearing to the gym. I picked up the running shorts. They were almost weightless. I slipped them on and noticed some very concerning alterations. The drawstring had been removed but more frightening; the liner had been removed. As they settled around my hips I felt like I was wearing nothing. I examined myself in the mirror and tried to convince myself that I looked like someone going to the gym. I could not deny however that I felt very exposed and vulnerable in the almost weightless clothing.
I started down my stairs to see Denise placing my wallet in her purse and picking up my car keys.
She stopped me and motioned for me to turn around. "Nice; the shorts could be tighter but it will have to do," she said hurrying me out the door.
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