A Warm Welcome

Masturbation, we're told, is solitary; the sole devotion to our pleasure can only take place in the company of the self.

Once I believed it as well, before the love of my life - a Dominatrix-cum-Goddess - rocked my foundations. She'd not only shaped a shy young man into a woman of growing confidence, but opened a landscape begging to be explored.

That, however, is a different story.

Under Mistress, masturbation was no longer a simple thing. I couldn't "rub one out" and carry on with my day, even if I wanted to; the steel nub of chastity nullified the sensations of my clit, denying release to the pearls hanging over the ring. They ached, and though the seed was diminished by femininity, it filled my sack the same.

I remembered Mistress teasing, 'I should have you castrated, then give you silicone implants so you can stay locked.'

Did She really mean that? Not that it mattered. The thought sent joy shivering up my spine. Though I was no more or less a woman without them, the symbolic destruction of my "manhood" never failed to excite.

'If you want to pleasure yourself,' She later said, 'then you know what to do.'

She was right. There was little recourse other than the ten thick inches of silicone hanging semi-rigid in my hand. With guidance, steady rhythm, and a lot of relaxation it could - maybe, hopefully - open the back door to climax. After months I'd yet to reach it, but I'm told it's the journey that matters, not the destination.

An engorged toy promised an afternoon in its own right, but why stop there when there could be sensations in tandem?

I raided the bedroom for spools of rope, each twenty feet long. Drawing the bite through the palm of one hand, I savored the smoothness of the nylon. I pulled the strands taut and fed them along my skin, stopping only to place strategic knots. The growing tightness, together with soft friction, inspired greater thirst as the pentagram closed around my chest.

Sometimes it was difficult to believe the portrait painted in the mirror. She - I - was a vision of submission, if only to myself. The strands hugged firmly but tenderly, and cupped my still growing breasts to their fullness.

I don't often get hard, but my clit was too stimulated to rest. It pressed against its confines, but found no escape. A warm stirring filled my belly; the familiar want of a slut in waiting.

Fuck...

Plump between the ropes, my breasts were primed for attention, as were the points standing outward. Fishing further into the cupboard I found a pair of clamps linked by a silver chain. I opened the first, and fed a nipple between the prongs. Turning the screw at the base, it pinched down on the solid, swollen flesh. A jolt of electricity ran through my chest, prompting a gasp. I eased into the constant pressure before bringing it down on the other nipple.

Before hormones, I never imagined anything could feel as good. If everybody knew the avenues of ecstasy brought to life by estrogen they'd clamor for it en masse!

My head swam, thoughts curled into fog, yet still I needed more.

The leather bands were not the equal of Mistress's grip, but they were firm enough, as was the collar clasped around my neck. If nothing else it was a reminder of my place, of all that I had laid at Her feet. I was Her girl, Her pet, Her plaything; not by way of force, but because it was what She'd graciously, and with love, allowed me to be.

Finding an ideal place in view of the entrance, I stuck the dildo to the tile floor and drizzled it with lube. My hand worked up and down its length, just as it would for one made of flesh, leaving no corner dry. I squeezed from the bottle until the cock was saturated, then squeezed more, before feeding the excess to my waiting hole.

Two fingers entered without protest. They circled my ring, prodding what little resistance there was, until movement was slick and easy. It seemed nothing at all when I replaced them with the head of the toy, but ten inches ran deeper than digits ever could.

My hands had one final task; to guide the silicone bit by bit as I brought my weight down. I moaned into the empty house, lavishing the dildo pressed against my walls. With slow, deep breaths I relaxed and allowed it to move as it needed, accepting the sensations as they slithered toward my P-spot.

Now halfway to the base, my hands had finished their work. The rest was up to gravity and my thighs. After shackling the cuffs to my collar there was little else I could do but ride.

My knees parted wide, and my core muscles tensed. Up and down I worked against the toy's length, giving myself to the movements until my thoughts evaporated. In their place was the climbing need to be filled, for the tidal wave to spill over the wall and cascade. It was the perfect place for a girl to lose herself, along with any sense of time.

I could hear Her words echo. 'Good girl,' cooed Mistress. If She could have only seen me. Perhaps, yet, She would.

How long had it been? Long enough that Her car pulled into the driveway. Yet I didn't slow. If anything, Her presence spurred me on. The seconds before discovery carried me through the aching in my thighs, called for me to fall harder, press deeper. She'd set out to craft a fiend, and I would not disappoint.

Mistress entered and found me on the floor; desperate, vulnerable, dressed in naught but ropes and the cage around my clit, hands bound to my collar. A wicked curl crossed Her lip, delighting in the crystal glaze over my eyes.

'You insatiable little slut,' She said. She approached, one heel clacking before the other, until I was eye level with Her skirt. Her smell wafted from under the fabric, and I was enthralled.

Fingers snaked through my hair, and twisted to grab a handful. My head jerked, our gaze locked, and I was so very, very small.

'Were you looking to give me a show?' She asked. 'Or were you racing me to the front door?'

No words came, but She knew the answer.

Mistress purred. 'Poor pet. Chasing an orgasm that's just out of reach. It was silly to think you could get there without me.'

It was enough to drive most girls to tears. Denial after denial, always reaching the precipice but going no further. For the few hours that followed that was enough, but I always came back, determined that the next time I would cross the point of no return.

'Still, you've been working so hard,' Mistress said. 'You deserve a reward.'

There, behind the front door of our home, Mistress slid free of Her pencil skirt, and pulled my face to Her bow. Her panties were thick with sweat, and I was all too eager to slurp through them. She hummed, encouraging me further, and pulled the seat to one side so I might taste Her in full.

Her pleasure was my pleasure; my tongue a gift laid on Her altar. It ran underneath Her clit, teasing it between my lips, as I began to suck; softly at first, but with growing fervor as the moments went on. I reached for her, but the shackles held fast. Only my mouth was available to serve.

Mistress moaned, but never cried out. Though She admired my skill, She would encourage me to hone my craft further. Then, perhaps, one day She would scream, and I would prove myself yet again. Practice makes perfect, and a good slut is always open to learning.

I moved up and down. My mouth swallowed Her clit, and my hole the dildo. Bringing down my weight drove the silicone cock into my tender insides, prompting a jump, and my plunging deeper against Mistress.

After a few ravenous minutes She convulsed, and gushed onto my tongue before I cleaned her. No matter how many times She came, I carried the achievement with pride. I'd served my purpose, and Mistress was satisfied. After all, Her satisfaction was most important.

She quickly found Her feet, and leaned down for a sticky kiss. I shared the taste of Her juices, and stole licks of Her tongue. I couldn't help myself!

Mistress stepped back and surveyed the scene. Sweat and lube coated my body, and wet strands of hair clung to my face. She stifled the satisfaction that only moments ago reflected in Her smile, for She had other ideas.

'Not only did you make a terrible mess, but you did it where anyone could have found you,' She said, as though anyone else would enter unannounced.

I did my best impression of shame.

'You need more discipline,' She said. 'Lift yourself up, and don't forget to take your silicone friend with you.'

It took all I had to grip without hands the lube covered cock while it unstuck from the ground. The greater challenge was to find my feet while holding it inside. Of course, it was a battle I would inevitably lose. The dildo struck the floor with a wet thud.

Mistress shook Her head. 'That's another ten lashings, I think.'

I shivered at the thought and sauntered to the bedroom. What had started as "alone time" had turned into a warm up session. It couldn't have gone any better if I tried.