Ch 4: Going With the Flow

1

She could see nothing, and all she could hear was the ambient music playing through the noise cancelling headphones over her ears. Even that was muffled by the foam earplugs he had rolled between his fingers and inserted into her ears before he put on the headphones. She had already been on her knees, her hands cuffed behind her back, with a spreader bar keeping her legs open, and a padded leather blindfold completely covering her eyes.

She could feel the vibration of his footsteps when he walked, but sometimes he walked lightly and he never wore shoes inside. So she waited, floating in the music, open to anything he chose. A tug on the chain connecting the clips on her nipples, fingers along the wet lips of her shaven pussy, or something entering through the large-diameter ring gag that held her mouth open. Sometimes it was his fingers at her mouth, sometimes it was a toy, sometimes it was his cock. The rest of the time it was just her own drool, running down her chin onto her breasts and belly.

She could not even bend forward easily to let it run out more freely. After he'd first restrained her, he'd used her mouth through the gag, without coming, and then withdrew. Then she'd felt something new enter her mouth -- a metal ball, fitting easily through the gag, and then a weight as it hung from her mouth. She tongued it as he explained.

"This is a hook for your ass," he'd said, stepping behind her and beginning to braid her hair. "I'm going to insert that into you. It's shorter than the dildos you've become used to, and the ball is smaller than the plug you have in right now, but it is thick along its entire length and quite heavy. Do you understand?"

She made a noise that might have been "Yes, sir," if her mouth hadn't been so completely possessed. She felt his hand at her anus, grasping the head of the steel plug that she'd been wearing all morning, and pulling it out. He removed the hook from her mouth and replaced it with the plug. Thankfully it was almost completely clean.

She felt him lubricating her ass and then felt the ball enter her, followed by the curve of the hook. This different and unyielding shape made her straighten her hips in an attempt to accommodate it. When it was in, it hung uncomfortably, partially supported by his hand, pressing against her insides.

Her head was brought up straight by the braid as he pulled it down and connected it to the hook. He must have braided a chain or strap into her her hair. He tightened it so that she could lean forward only by putting pressure on the hook and pulling on her hair. It didn't hurt, but it wasn't comfortable. He took the plug out of her mouth.

"That's a strap in your hair," he said, stroking it. She felt the hook move inside her as she turned her head to look at him. He waited, and once he was sure she was all right, stopped her ears and put on the headphones again.

--

She wasn't sure how long he'd left her like this. She knew he was nearby since he touched her regularly. Every few minutes she leaned forward to let accumulated spit run out of her mouth. It hung from her mouth as the hook distended her anus, until she straightened back up.

He was actively possessing all of her. Her mouth was held open by the gag. Her throat still felt the impact of his cock. He'd filled her ears and covered her eyes, her ass was filled with the heaviest piece of metal it had ever held. She tasted herself in her mouth because he penetrated her pussy with his fingers at will, and then pushed them into her mouth for her to lick.

At one point he had fucked her throat, gently but deeply, holding her firmly as his cock slid in and out through the ring, making her eyes water under the blindfold, and making her nose run as well. He had not wiped her face, and she knew he was enjoying the mess he was making of her.

She thought back to when she'd first asked him why she wasn't already his property, after she'd become accustomed to him using her at will, dictating how she dressed (or that she remain naked), and requiring that she kneel to him every time she came in the door. She'd had no clue, she realized. That was free use, not possession. Now, aside from his random penetrations and caresses, he wasn't using her at all. She didn't know what he was doing, reading perhaps, or working, or watching her. She was not being fucked, not serving, not begging. She was doing only one thing: Being his property.

This had little relation to the feeling of opening her legs when he told her to, and feeling him inside her, or the delicious feel of his cock moving between her lips and pushing against the back of her throat. She loved those things, she masturbated about them when she was allowed to, she had always had fantasies of being forced to kneel and serve. But she'd never masturbated about doing nothing. She was aroused, but at a different level, deeper and quieter. It was a meditative state, where she had let go of everything, including control over her entire body. Not just sexually, but entirely. She could not move, or clean her face, or even close her mouth. Thought drained out of her like her spit dripping down her breasts, like his come running down her legs after he'd fucked her.

She was getting tired; she knelt with her back straight because slumping even slightly would pull uncomfortably on the hook. And the water she'd drunk was having its usual effect. She made a few short sharp noises, her standard request for his attention when she was gagged.

"Are you all right?" he asked. She nodded as well as she could, the hook pulling on her ass.

She felt him standing in front of her, and then his cock pushed through the ring and into her throat. Behind her head she felt his hands unbuckle the gag. He withdrew his cock, and she opened wider as his fingers took the ring out from between her teeth. Spit ran down her chin as she opened and closed her mouth to relax her jaw muscles. He took off the headphones and removed the earplugs.

"Tell me what you need," he said.

"May I use the bathroom, sir?" she asked. He gave the hook a sharp tug, making her gasp.

"Tell me what you need," he said again.

"I need to pee, Master," she said. "Please may I use the bathroom."

He unlocked the spreader bar from between her legs, and held by the shoulders as she stood up. He led her with a hand on the hook, moving it within her to direct her, while his other hand held her shoulder, steadying her. She moved blindly, her hands still bound behind her back, following the directions of the steel inside her. In the bathroom he turned her around and loosened the strap attached to the hook. He held her shoulders as she sat down on the toilet.

"Go ahead," he said.

"Master? she said, apprehensively. "Are you going to watch me pee?"

"Is this something you don't want your owner to see?"

"No, Master," she said. "I mean, I don't know. I don't know if I can."

"You're still learning what it means to be property," he said, taking her by the hair. "Your body belongs to me. You don't have any right to bodily privacy, do you?"

"No Master, I understand," she said, squirming. "I have no right to bodily privacy."

"Good girl," he said. "There is nothing you will not expose to me."

"Yes, sir," she said. But the urine wouldn't come. She tried to relax, but as urgently as her bladder needed to be emptied, she couldn't let it go.

"Master, I'm sorry, I don't think I can," she said. "I need to go so badly, sir." He didn't respond, but tightened his grip on her hair.

"Inquisition!" she cried. He reacted to the safe word immediately, releasing her hair and and kissing the top of her head.

"I'll be outside," he said. "Call out when you're finished."

She heard him leave the room and close the door. She sighed with relief as her urine finally started to flow. But her hands were still cuffed, so when she finished, she could not wipe herself, nor should she easily move to the bidet.

"I'm finished, Master," she called out, and heard the door open again. He guided her off the toilet and onto the bidet, ran the water, and then patted her dry. She'd gotten used to him washing her, but this was more humiliating. But she could relax into her restraints, let go, and let him do it. This, she could give to him.

He led her back to the living room, and undid her blindfold. He unbraided her hair, and bent her over as he worked the hook out of her ass. He did not put it in her mouth, but rather, laid it on the towel she'd been kneeling on. Then he uncuffed her hands, sat down and patted the couch. She sat next to him and leaned on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Robert," she said. "I just couldn't do it. I tried but it wouldn't come. Maybe I have a shy bladder."

"Perhaps," he said. "Or perhaps you are still learning what it is to be property."

"You still don't think I don't know I belong to you?"

"I think your body doesn't know it yet, not fully," he said. "I think it will learn, with some training."

"What kind of training?" she asked. "I can't hold it in all the time. I'll get a UTI."

"No, I'm not going to force that," he said. "But you're going to surrender control over your body completely."

"You already control my body, Master," she said.

"Not entirely," he said, taking her hands in his. "For the rest of the weekend you will not feed yourself, touch yourself, clean yourself, or do anything else without help.

"You'll be restrained strictly at all times," he said. "What were you planning to do today?"

"Nothing," she said. "Read. Be with you. Nap."

"Stand up," he said. She did so, and he cuffed her hands behind her back again. She waited, facing the couch, until he returned with her corset. He wrapped the leather around her and laced it tight, until the steel stays pressed against her waist and her breasts were pushed upwards. It was tight enough to restrict her movement, but not her breathing. Then he used two short chains to attach her wrist cuffs to rings at the waist of the corset. This left her hands free to hold a book or a tablet, but she could not touch her pussy or her face, and had to ask him to hold her water bottle when she wanted a drink.

She read for a while, then lay back on the couch, folded her chained hands at her waist, and slept. Late in the afternoon she woke and started to stretch, but her hands were pulled up short by the chain.

"Master, may I stretch?" she asked him. He unlocked her wrists, but said, "Lay back."

She did so, and he took each leg in his hands, pulling it out straight, bending it upwards as far as it could go, given that the corset descended in front almost to her pubic bone, then outward, and repeating. He was slow and careful and firm and it felt very good.

"Hold out your hands," he said. He held them tightly, pulling her arms out straight as she bent backwards, then standing her up. He brought her arms over her head, then behind her back, then rotated them.

"Hold onto the couch," he said, lifting one of her legs up and back as far as it would go, then rotating it, and doing the same to the other leg.

"Hands," he said, and she held them out behind her, and he grasped her and pulled her upward. She spread her legs and arched her back and pulled against him.

He pulled her upright, and took her in his arms from behind, kissing the back of her neck.

"The answer, in case you haven't already figured it out, is no," he said. "You may not stretch. You may not do anything with your body. This is going to be an intense weekend but you're going to learn something important."

"Yes Sir," she said. "That felt really good. Thank you."

He guided her back to a kneeling position, moving her feet out from under her to each side and putting the spreader bar between them so she could not move her heel against her pussy. He cuffed her wrists to her ankles, then bent her forward. He put a large steel plug in her mouth and lubed her ass -- a bottle of lube and a set of plugs were frequent fixtures on the coffee table -- removing it from her mouth and sliding it into her quickly. It settled against her sphincter and he pulled her upright. He sat next to her on the couch, and she leaned against his leg. His hand stroked her hair occasionally. She put her head back, resting it on the couch, and he stroked down her neck and over her breasts, and played gently with her nipples. Then he went back to working.

She closed her eyes, relaxing into bondage, feeling the corset's pressure, the cuffs holding her still, the bar keeping her legs open, the steel in her ass reminding her that it was his. She was very wet, but at the moment felt no urgency, instead just drifted in a post-nap fog of arousal and submission. She breathed deep, did relaxation exercises, moving up from her feet, focusing on each part of herself, relaxing it and surrendering it.

--

He ordered sushi for dinner. He unchained her and stretched her again, massaging her arms and legs. She asked to use the bathroom and he cuffed her hands behind her and walked her to the bathroom. He did not stand over her this time, but closed the door and re-entered when she was finished to clean her.

The doorbell rang. He pressed the unlock button for the downstairs door and led her to the table, out of sight of the door. She stood, her hands still cuffed behind her back. Her back itched but she could not raise her wrists high enough to scratch.

"Master, my back itches," she said when he returned. "Would you please scratch it?"

He didn't respond, but ran his fingernails down the nape of her neck. She shivered. "The left side," she said. "My shoulder blade." He moved his fingers, his nails gently scratching.

"A little up," she moaned. "Yes! Yes! There." He kept scratching until she sighed, "Oh god, thank you."

Her chair at the table was different, with rings and attachment points subtly concealed within it. He uncuffed her hands, sat her down, and then attached her corset directly to the back of the chair, holding her hips and shoulders in place. Each ankle was shackled to the leg of the chair, and her wrists were again chained to the waist of her corset. And he put her blindfold back on.

So she sat erect and largely immobilized, her every move met with the sound of steel chains drawing taut, as he ate his own dinner and fed hers to her, a piece at a time. She kept her lips parted for him; when he had first started blindfolding and feeding her, he would smear the food on her face if her mouth was not open and waiting. But he didn't have to do this tonight. She waited, mouth open, for the chopsticks or, sometimes, his fingers. She had no control over what went into her mouth or when. It wasn't hers, after all. He dabbed her lips with a napkin, held her water glass for her to sip, wiped her face and breasts when it dribbled.

Finally she heard him stand and start to clear the table. He left her chained as he cleaned up. She heard him in the kitchen, then heard his footsteps return, felt him next to her, and then felt the head of his cock at her lips. She opened, and he entered, not deeply, and she sucked it. He pulled the chain, stretching her nipples, stroked her hair, then put his fingers into her mouth alongside his cock, stretching it open and pulling her jaw down, letting her drool as he slid across her wet lips, in and out of her mouth. But he was gentle, not using her throat directly after dinner, for which she was grateful. He withdrew, and his fingers went from her mouth to her pussy, stroking her very wet lips, entering her, probing her and making her moan, then putting them back in her mouth for her to lick. Then he left her there, now feeling the urgency of her arousal, tasting him and herself in her mouth, wanting him, unable to touch herself or do anything but wait.

--

She "Netflixed and chilled" that evening, sitting on the couch. He took off her corset, so she could relax more comfortably, but she was still restrained. Her arms were out straight along the back of the couch and chained to each end, her legs out straight resting on pillows on the coffee table, the spreader bar between them. Her mouth was held open by a ring gag, smaller and more flexible than the one he usually used, so she could make noises to ask him to play the next episode, or for anything else she needed, since she could do nothing for herself.

He unchained her at bedtime, stretched her, cuffed her hands behind her back and led her to the bathroom. Again he did not stand over her, but cleaned her when she was done, and then led her to the sink. He picked up her electric toothbrush, wet it, and put toothpaste on it. Her eyes met his in the mirror and she realized that of course, she would not be able to do this either. She opened her mouth wide and he held her by the neck and moved the toothbrush around her mouth. He bent her forward so the toothpaste ran out of her mouth into the sink, then held the cup to her lips for her to rinse.

He ran warm water and washed her face, then dried her and led her to the bedroom. As he undressed she went to her knees and waited, but he stood her up again, pushed her forward onto the bed, then sat down against the headboard. He took her shoulders and moved her into place between his legs. She raised her head and took his cock into her mouth, and began serving him slow and deep. With her hands behind her back, she could not support herself on her arms, so serving this way was a workout for her abs. She could rest only by taking him all the way down and burying her face in his crotch. He did not rush her, just watched her work, enjoying the moments when her forehead rested on his belly and her mouth opened around his cock, drool leaking out as she breathed around him, then seeing her muscles tense as she brought her mouth up to the head of his cock.

When he was ready to come he held her by the hair with the head of his cock in her mouth and masturbated, spurting into her mouth and onto her face, then releasing her so she could lick up what hadn't landed on her face. He fed her the rest, wiping it off her face and pushing his fingers into her mouth, then let her lie flat on the bed while he uncuffed her. But only for a moment. He raised her hands over her head and attached them to the ring at the head of the bed, then spread her legs and chained them to the rings there, one at her corner of the bed, one in the middle. The chains were not tight enough to pull her, but offered little freedom of motion. He stroked her pussy, then leaned over and licked her. She moaned and raised her hips as much as she could, and his tongue circled her clit.

"You have no idea how much I love your pussy," he said, spreading her lips so he could lick inside them. He enjoyed her at length, at first not even trying to make her come, just exploring her with his lips and tongue, kissing her pussy lips, licking her bare mound, running his tongue along the insides of her thighs, giving only passing attention to her clit no matter how much she bucked her hips. At one point she actually bumped him in the face, and he lifted his head.

"If you want an orgasm, lie still," he said. She let her hips fall, and trembled as he returned to his devotions. As he licked, his fingers grasped the plug in her ass and pushed it in and out, twisted it, pumped it. When a finger slid into her, then another, and he finally turned his attention to her clit, it did not take long for her orgasm to come. "Please may I?" she gasped.

"Oh yes," he said, his lips on her clit, and at the same time, he pushed his fingers hard into her and pulled the plug out. She did not lie still then, but he was expecting it, and kept his mouth on her as she screamed and bucked and twisted, driving the orgasm harder until she begged him to stop. She fell back, panting, and licked herself off his face when he kissed her.

"Good night, my love," he said, and turned out the light. She had slept restrained before, and she was naturally a back sleeper, so this position didn't make it hard to sleep, but she lay awake for a while, thinking. Her pussy was wet with his spit and her juices, her face wet with his cum, her ass leaking lube. She could not wipe herself, she could not clean herself, she could not even move much. He had used her thoroughly, but she had not touched her body all day. She pulled against the bonds, raising herself, twisting, just to feel them hold her, to let her body feel how tightly she was restrained.