I Have An Idea Ch. 10

Ella had cautioned him about weddings. More importantly, how busy and frustrating wedding planning could be. He cautioned her that she had a ready and willing man to do anything she asked. He wasn't the usual fiancé, he said. He was her petitioning slave.

Jim took care of the arrangements as she saw fit. His office and hers were a buzz of delight and expectation. It was to be a small ceremony, but a venue had to be rented, tables and chairs rented, flower arrangements selected, food, cake, seating charts, invitations . . . . The list dragged on.

Even he had to admit it was more than he was prepared for, but if he struggled, it was for her. He did as much as he could until she had politely ordered him to rest. He was looking more like an exhausted bride than a hopeful groom. Although, she saw that he, as a man, handled it differently. Where she would've had a fit and broke out in tears of fatigue, needing reassurance and some hardcore snuggling, he carried on, more and more ragged each day, but trudging on nevertheless. She couldn't help giggling at that. They'd both been married once before. The last time she'd tried to plan a wedding, she'd ended up bordering on anorexic.

She was determined to enjoy it this time, and he was making that possible.

It occurred to him that she'd never officially said "yes". Perhaps, she didn't feel she owed him that, but he had a sneaky suspicion she had something else in mind. He wondered.

They discussed wedding plans while he knelt and listened. His day of rest had come and gone. It was back to business. She ordered him to stand, and the hard tone in her voice caused a deep thrill to run through every part of him. It was like there was no doubt left in her mind that he would do anything but obey.

Jim stood at attention before her while she fiddled with the lock of his chastity device. It popped loose and his cock began to grow. It was interesting, she noted, how it waited now to be released. When he first wore it, his poor cock would pick the worst times to squeeze itself against the metal bars of the cage. She hadn't noticed it doing that as often. She hadn't noticed him waking up in the early morning anymore either.

"You've trained it, Mistress," Jim explained.

She gave him a curious expression. "Explain." Her tone was stern and to the point. She no longer worried about it; it was a button she could push and did so without thinking. She commanded; he obeyed. That's how he liked it, and she enjoyed what it did to him.

His eyes met hers, his cheeks pink with humiliation. "It used to get hard a lot, but I guess it finally learned that made it hurt, so it stopped doing that. I'm not sure when. I just realized it the other day. Even when I'm so turned on I'm ready to explode, when you do things, say things with that beautiful, sweet–"

"Enough flattery. Get on with it," she barked.

His head sank. "Yes, Mistress." He wanted to apologize for wasting her time with his adoration, but she did not want his apologies; she wanted his swift obedience. "Even when I feel turned on, if the cage is on, it doesn't seem to get very hard. I was freaking out about it a little until you took it off and it sprang to life. I feel like I get extra hard now, but only when it's free and it's only free when you free it."

She gave him an amused expression. "It obeys me now."

He shuddered. "Yes, Mistress."

She smirked. "And you–" she rubbed his nipple, "–you obey it. That's how I make you obey."

He nodded. "Yes, Mistress."

She held up the device before him; his eyes fixed on it. "You're totally used to it now, aren't you?"

She always did this, made him think about things, pushed unrealized things into his consciousness, pushed his buttons. That's why she did it, and that's why he loved it. "I am, yes, Mistress. I barely even know I'm wearing it anymore. In fact, when I'm not wearing it, it feels . . . odd. Sort of naked. There's no weight to it. It almost feels wrong."

His cock jutted straight out, long and proud. She grinned and applied one finger to its base, running the soft pad of her finger down its length, rubbing it in a slow circle around the tip. She put her other hand on his chest as she sighed and sagged against him, letting him binge himself on her scent. "It's hard when I tell it to be hard."

His breath caught in his throat. She was barely doing anything, yet somehow it made him feel as small and as tight as the engagement ring wrapped around her finger. "God, yes, Mistress."

"But more importantly," she continued, the breath of her whisper brushing across his cheek, "it's soft when I command. It can't cum without my say so. It can't get hard without my approval. It can't twitch, drain or get any pleasure unless I say so. It's mine to play with, my little toy. You don't get to play with it anymore, and I'm sorry to say, Jim, after we're married . . . you'll never play with it again."

His body trembled. His face twisted with misery and delight. He was in a tortuous heaven. He nodded. Words filled his mind that he was not allowed to express. Love. Please. Beg. Anything. God. Mistress. Need. Love. Love. You. You. YouYouYou. . . .

She patted his cheek, enjoying the glaze in his eyes. Submission. He felt it. She put it there. She could make it ebb and flow. She'd learned how. She could increase it with a look, with a smile, with a snap of her fingers, with a toss of her hips. She could let it fade, wait patiently, then zap him again. She giggled. He was so easy to control now, and he was so much fun.

He was red-faced and swooning.

She snapped her fingers.

He dropped. It was automatic. His position was automatic. Kneeling as she commanded, in the way she'd commanded, in the position she'd conditioned into his poor body and brain. He dropped to his knees and dropped into submission. He shuddered under her watchful eye.

At this moment, he was totally hers.

She liked that.

***

Ella had taught him. He had learned. There was the erection. There was pleasure humming inside it as she brought it to heel, as she whispered things to it, stroked it expertly with her hand. Then the warm buzz of it being filled, so like urination, but infinitely more pleasurable. And just like that, he was so near the edge, the point of no return. She was at his ear then, her hand far from his cock, urging him to "let go."

By her command, he did not flex his Kegel; he did not thrust out his pelvis. Instead, he did the unthinkable: he relaxed, released the tension in his begging muscles and let his cock overflow and drain. Inside, he wept and whimpered, feeling the pleasure before him, but utterly unavailable. But there was another pleasure far greater: the pleasure of obeying her wishes, of doing exactly what she wanted him to do, of being under her control.

He had learned so well or she had taught him so repetitively, that it no longer took her hours. Twenty or thirty minutes was enough time for her to have him drained.

But there was a problem. What to do with his spilled semen? She didn't like it splattering on her carpet, though she did like him scrubbing the fibers on hands and knees, butt naked while she watched him. He was a naughty boy, after all, a dirty boy, defiling her lush shag in such a way.

It was Jim's solution, though he wasn't aware of it. She'd read all his forum posts, and had found herself becoming most interested in what he expressed as his "limits". Those things he claimed gave him no pleasure, though they could still be considered evidence of a Domme's control over her sub. Months ago, he had given a terse response to a forum thread and had almost certainly forgotten about it. She hadn't.

She petted his cock softly like the well trained animal it was. She grinned and watched him shiver in response.

She cupped her hand under the head of his twitching cock and caught every drop, giggling as she did so. "This is kind of like milking a cow." She pinched his naked ass with her other hand. "You're such a good boy."

Then she had a wicked thought. She'd been having them frequently. She thought about the forum post he'd made. She brought up her hand, filled with his cum, his pleasure, her control, and showed it to him. "What do you think?"

His face was drawn with misery, but the quick catch in his throat and his sharp breath showed how submissive he was feeling; he was in ecstasy. "I . . . don't know, Mistress."

She held it up to him. "Seems to me, I used to be a pretty good girlfriend to you. I used to go down on you. I used to swallow it for you. You loved that, didn't you?"

His eyes flashed with the memory. He smiled. "Yes, Mistress."

"Smell it." It was an order. He leaned down and put his nose above it, barely catching a whiff. For a moment, he thought she might push it into his face. He was relieved when she didn't. "What do you think it tastes like?"

He made a sour face. "I . . . I don't know, Mistress."

"But I do, don't I? That was something I did for you."

He blinked and smiled at her with love. "Yes, Mistress. Thank you."

"Why do you like that so much?" she wondered. This wasn't part of the game; she was truly curious.

His eyes shifted. His head furrowed. "I'm not sure. I guess, it's just hot, you on your knees, sucking me off. It's maybe something you didn't want to do, but did it because you knew how much I loved it."

"Don't some girls love it though?" Her smirk made him nervous. She wasn't lowering her hand. He kept getting whiffs of his own cum. What was she after?

"Maybe. I'm not sure any guy really believes that."

"Why?"

"Because," he shrugged, "it's something we wouldn't want to do."

"So," she smiled, keeping her gaze on his eyes as she snapped her fingers and watched him drop to his knees, "you only loved it because you thought I didn't want to do it?"

Her snapping fingers and his kneeling were so automatic, it didn't even cause a break in the conversation. Neither of them so much as notice it.

He shook his head. "Not only that, I guess. I guess, in a way, it was that you were taking something of me into you. I was penetrating you another way. Just the thought of it, the sight of it. . . ."

His cock was hardening again. It didn't take long. It was thirsty for an orgasm, an orgasm it hadn't had in months. She didn't keep count, but she knew he did, down to the day. She didn't ask how long very often, because she realized it excited him more when it seemed she didn't care. It was an odd thing to get her head around, even harder to accept. He grew more excited when she pretended not to care about his desires, pretended not to even know about them. It was that theory that led to her gradually thanking him less for all the nice things he did for her. It turned him on so much when she took him for granted.

Men were such bizarre creatures. Men in chastity were even more bizarre, completely upside down, but extremely useful and fun.

She held her cupped her hand up to his chin. Her tone was soft and quiet. She did not have to order it; he knew. She whispered so quietly he could barely hear, but he shivered all the same. "Be a good boy."

His throat bobbed; it clacked with a dry, nervous swallow. He clamped his lips shut and relaxed them reflexively. The furrow in his brow deepened. His eyes winced. He shook his head slightly in disgust. After a long struggle, he finally admitted, "I'm . . . I'm sorry, Mistress. I just can't."

In the past Ella would've been disappointed. Now, strangely, she was somewhat delighted. She'd found a limit; something he didn't want to do. It made her want to make him do it, to push him past it. If it had been something truly serious, she would've let it go and talked about it later, but this was something silly. He wouldn't swallow what she had so graciously swallowed.

Still, she knew better than to push directly. Dommes never have to insist on anything, she thought and grinned. She brushed his hair back over his head, scratching and patting his head like a pet. "You can. And you will."

She had a challenge. She couldn't be happier.

He peered up at her. "I'm very sorry, Mistress."

She smiled down at him. "Oh, poor boy, poor naughty boy, this just means I get to punish you."

His eyes flashed with concern, but his cock stayed rock hard. He bowed his head and nodded, adding softly, "Yes, Mistress."