Rick Sebastian, successful attorney by day, eager slave to his wife/Mistress Cass after hours, is caged. He’d spoiled dinner, and while waiting for punishment, reflects on how he’d begun his strange and exciting journey into submission. His memories, and the arrival of Cass’ friend, make for an evening to remember.
|Publisher:||eXtasy Books Inc|
|File size:||164 KB|
|Age Range:||18 Years|
Read an Excerpt
Rick knelt in his cage. The bars running from front to back dug into his knees and shins, but he was used to that. Even the cool air didn't bother him like it did the first few times she'd sent him into the punishment room and locked him in. What did bother him was why.
His knees hurt terribly, but he dared not move. Cass, his lovely sweet Cass, would be upset, and he knew she watched him sometimes. He didn't even dare raise his eyes to see if the camera's little red light was on or not. He'd learned not to do that, months ago, when she'd caught him masturbating guiltily, while she watched from the comfort of the living room. He shuddered at the memory.
She'd been upset with his dinner preparations that evening, the gravy had been lumpy, and the salad warm and wilted. So, angry at his lack of attention, she'd sent him to his cage. He'd gone willingly enough, thinking it would be an easy way out of some punishment he knew he deserved. He'd thought nothing of stripping down, and crawling into the four-foot square steel cage. When she'd locked the door and reminded him to behave, he'd smiled and replied, "Yes, Mistress."
She'd no more than walked out the door and closed it, than his hands were reaching for his privates. Never mind the rules, or that he hadn't asked permission to touch himself. What did that matter? She wasn't there. She'd never know.
He'd lain on his back, stretched his legs up the bars on the opposite side, and was madly pumping away at his erection when he'd heard the door. He was too far gone to stop, or so he'd thought. The bucket of ice water had changed his mind, instantly.
"Slave," she'droared. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Shivering, frustrated, he'd lumbered around until he got his knees under himself, and his head bowed respectfully. Dripping wet, freezing cold, he'd tried to come up with a reply that wouldn't make it worse. "Mistress, I ... I," he'd stammered, his mind racing. He knew he had to answer with something, but his mind was blank. Finally, he'd said, "Mistress, I was thinking of you and ... well, one thing led to another. I'm sorry. I didn't--"
"Stop, right there. Not one more word." Her tone left no question as to her indignation. "You dared think of me in that manner? And then you masturbated, stroked that puny, little cock and no doubt, fingered your balls, without asking my permission to do so."
Rick hadn't been sure if he should answer or not. His erection had still strained from between his legs; his balls pulled up tight to his crotch. The excitement of being caught, plus the attention of his lady and his own exhibitionistic tendencies had all conspired to keep him painfully hard. He'd decided to keep his mouth shut, and to quickly comply with whatever she said.
"I asked you a bloody question, slave boy," she growled.
Rick remembered how he'd cringed and the reply he'd made didn't help matters. "Yes, Mistress. I'm terribly sorry. I just couldn't help myself. You're so lovely. I just couldn't keep my mind off you. It's been over a week since I came, and--"
"Shut up!" she'd cried, and he'd immediately shut his mouth.
He'd been worried then. She'd never seemed so angry before, and he wondered what kind of punishment he'd have to endure. As it turned out, he was wise to be concerned.
"Dinner was horrible," she'd said. She paced around his cage, her stiletto heels doing a light tap, tap, tap as she leisurely circled him. "And you have the balls to complain about not coming for a few days."
Something had struck the cage behind him, and he'd nearly cried out. He'd blurted, "No, Mistress. I mean, yes, Mistress." Confused, he'd clamped his mouth shut and prayed for it to end. Prayed she'd just punish him and get it over with.
"Yes mistress, no mistress. Damn, you don't even know what you're trying to say, do you?"
Cringing, he'd opened his mouth to answer, knowing he was going to say the wrong thing, but also knowing he was supposed to reply to a question she directed at him. Luckily, she didn't give him the chance.
"Never mind." She returned to standing in front of him, and said, "Keep your eyes downcast, but lean back. Put your hands on the floor behind you."
Rick quickly got into the position she'd requested. The bars grated against his knees, even more so against his shins, but that didn't deter him as he'd maneuvered his long, lanky frame into the desired pose. He made sure to keep his eyes focused downward along the length of his body. Hairless, at her command, his chest and belly rippled with muscles that he'd worked hard to maintain. His erection pointed accusingly at him.
"Spread your knees," she'd said, and again, he'd complied eagerly. He vividly remembered the feeling of his balls dangling between his widespread thighs--how defenseless he'd felt, how excited and horny. The cool air and cold water made each testicle shift closer to his body.
"Now then, it's lesson time," she'd said and, reaching down, unlatched his cage door.
He'd known better than to move, but the temptation was definitely there. Instead, he'd gritted his teeth and remained still. The tension had mounted in him. When he'd thought he couldn't take the silence, the anxiety, and the excitement another moment, she spoke again.
"Keeping in position, come out of your cage."
It was awkward, and it took a little time, but finally, he'd emerged from the cage on his knees and hands. His shins ached where the bars had dug into them, but the minor pain was acceptable.
"Here," she'd said, pointing to a spot in front of the chair she'd crossed the small room and settled into. "Hurry up, I don't have all day."
It had taken him some few minutes to get to the spot she'd picked, but again, he didn't complain. When he'd stopped before her, he'd been extremely apprehensive, but more than willing to take the punishment he knew was coming.
"Push your hips up, show me what you've been diddling," she'd said in a voice as sweet as liquid honey.
He'd pushed his hips upward, displaying his rampant erection and his tight balls. His stomach muscles strained, the backs of his thighs tightened, and moments later ached from the forced posture. He felt his inner thighs quiver with tension.