Changes Ch. 09

Author's Notes:

(1) This is the final chapter of "Changes". I had thought of going into the endless experiments that this femdom relationship had tried, but instead I concentrated on the ones with the most influence on the evolution of the changing relationship;

(2) If the readers want to read some of those adventures, they will have to make comments and ask for them. In actuality however, some of my other stories are based on them, so I fear I would repeat story lines.

(3) Remember to read chapters 1 to 8 as well. Changes occur in chapters, just like in life.

*****

In early October we were sitting by the fireplace on a cold, wet, and windy day enjoying a hearty red wine. Sarah had found that my corset could be closed a little further today, so I was adjusting, as always, to the new dimensions that the corset was forcing upon me. I was erect, very aware of its presence, and slightly out of breath. I found that with every new tightening, my appetite became less and less, thus facilitating the waist training. The tighter the corset got, the less I could eat, and the more it allowed the corset to be tightened. I was dressed in Lulu Lemon tights, wrap skirt, and a stretchy tight long-sleeved top as usual, as Lulu had become "my friend", and just for fun Sarah had locked a collar around my neck and attached a leash, a simple act of domination and submission with a touch of humiliation. I could tell she was thinking privately, as there was nothing but silence outside of the crackling of the fire. I let it go as a mood thing, still enjoying her company as lovers quietly do.

Suddenly she said, "Some of our friends have asked some personal questions of me lately."

I waited for more, but there was nothing else. So I offered, "Like what?"

It seemed like that response was what she wanted or needed. Sarah said, "Well, Maddie asked if I dominated you because she saw that you appeared more submissive now, making meals and serving at the table, and things like that. I said that yes, our roles had shifted and I was in charge so to speak. She asked if I liked it, and I said yes. I mean, who doesn't love a husband that does all the housework, right? Then she asked if you liked that part of it, because she couldn't imagine her husband enjoying that."

She stopped again. I just waited this time, as I didn't know where this was going.

Sarah continued after a sip of wine, "I had always assumed you did because you got hard when we played those games, and you never offered any resistance, but I never really asked. But before I take the next steps with you, I have to ask now: do you like me dominating you? I mean, really, do you? I have to know this, because, well, just because I have to. If you don't like the way I treat you, you have to say it now, or forever hold your peace, to quote a famous phrase."

I had never wanted to discuss any of the background reasons why I enjoyed our new relationship dynamics, because to do so would be akin to defusing the fantasy. To say out loud that for example that I liked to be humiliated by wearing a French Maid's outfit would, in effect, spoil it for both the one doing the humiliating and the one being humiliated. It was the same with bondage; saying "please make me helpless so you can do what you want to me" would be a statement that would spoil the scene and act. For me, NO always meant YES, but I felt I should never admit that, like it was a cardinal rule of our little game. But...next steps? What did she mean by that? Now I had to answer.

"For me, it goes with it," I said, "I'd do anything if you told me to do it or "forced" me to do it. If you said you wanted to seal me in a block of plaster for your perverted pleasure, then I'd do it, or I should say you would "force" me to do it. Other than my cross dressing fetish, that's my over-riding fantasy, to be forced to enact my fantasies. Secretly I'd enjoy it, but if I admitted the enjoyment, then the whole thing would be spoiled wouldn't it?"

"Hmm," she said softly, "Plaster eh? I never thought of that. Anyway, so you want me to take this journey wherever I want to take it, regardless of what you want?"

"Yes," I said, without any hesitation, "My wants are yours to dictate and secondary to yours, as strange as that sounds."

"Are you sure? Really sure? Because I've been getting bizarre ideas embedded in my head from browsing online lately. I even go around hardware stores seeing items I could use for bondage." She laughed briefly and then continued, "Your femininity is a given now, what with your corseting and all the clothing, but what if I added another layer of kinkiness and, say, enclosed you completely in thick rubber or leather, in sensory deprivation even?"

"Sarah," I said, "I'd try anything once, as long as it was you doing the domination. I trust you. And even if you did something to me that you liked and I didn't, I'd still want you to do it again to me if you got off on it; it's erotic to please you."

"Really? Why?"

"Hmm, I don't know why. It could be that I simply need to be dominated by a woman, and sometimes that means doing what she wants, simply because I'm forced to do it. It's humiliating and I love it."

"You're strange."

"So are you."

"So, the rubber and leather?" she prompted again.

I simply answered, "Force me to do it."

"You're so weak," she said, smiling.

"Yes," I said, "I feel so ashamed and humiliated. It's awful." I grinned with the sarcasm.

We couldn't control ourselves any longer. Laughter was always a great mortar in our marriage. We cuddled and talked and played Scrabble well into the night. It was nonthreatening and comfortable, but as the night wore on, the conversation eventually turned to sexual innuendos, and we both knew where this was going. I waited for her to tell me what to do.

And she did. "You know those questions I asked you earlier? I was quite sure of the answers already. Sorry, but I know you too well. I knew you'd answer that way, but I needed to hear it, and I think you needed to say it. You've stepped into something big here, so the record needed to be made straight."

I turned my head toward her and tried to read that statement. "Something big?" I said, "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, nothing much. It's just that I have some, shall we say, interesting bondage items that will change everything about our relationship. You want to be used. I want to use you," she said with a mischievous smile, "Off with everything except your corset and bra. And go put your large steel anal plug in please."

That was abrupt, I thought. I responded as abruptly. "Yes Mistress," I said. Our sexual division of labor had become well defined. She ordered. I did.

I continued to act my part. "What are you going to do to me?" I asked like a child.

"You don't need to know," she said throatily. And I didn't. Her control was palpable and it created a mild ringing in my ears and a fog in the room.

As I passed the bed to get my anal plug, I saw what looked like a type of sleeping bag on the bed, only it was made of leather. The smell of the hide filled the room. Examining it more closely, it was shaped more like a sarcophagus, thin at the feet and ankles and wide where the shoulders would be. A heavy zipper ran its length, and the front was crisscrossed with thick laces that could obviously be tightened. Beside it lay a sinister looking leather hood which laced up the back and had a mouth opening and two small nostril openings.

Now I knew what she meant. This was serious stuff. As I got on all fours and inserted the anal plug, I stared at the lather on the bed, knowing what was coming, but not knowing the extent of it, how she would treat me once I became helpless.

Half an hour later as I lay completely immobilized in the leather bondage bag (or sleep-sack as many called it) , with my arms pinned to my side in the internal sleeves, I wondered what would be next. The feeling of the full length zippers being pulled up and squeezing my body so that it made me helpless was exquisite. I couldn't move a muscle, with perhaps the one exception being my tongue. And my head was enclosed in a leather sensory deprivation hood or helmet which blocked all sight and most sound. Sarah continued to cinch up the bag with the external laces so that I was mummified and utterly objectified, another corseting layer surrounding me, squeezing my breasts to my chest, and my whole body to infinite rigidity.

Her voice seemed directly above me as she said, "As you can see (or should I say: hear?) , I sort of assumed you would like this, so I took the liberty of buying it first, then asking later. So I'll ask now. Are you comfy? Do you like it?"

"No Mistress," I lied, "What are you going to do to me Mistress?"

"Too bad you don't like it. It would be better if you did, but not obligatory. And what I plan to do to you is my business, not yours. Is that clear?"

"Yes Mistress," I said. The world of the normal senses was sliding away from me, and I was helpless on that slippery slope.

"Good. Now I'm going to dig your penis out and have some fun with it for a while. You're not permitted to come."

"Yes Mistress," I said in a daze of erotic bliss.

She played all right. Oh, she played. She played with me endlessly until I moaned and squeezed my sphincter onto the anal plug with involuntary contractions. I pleaded with her and she laughed, only driving her to more teasing and torture. I was stranded in helpless never-land, the land of neediness and want. She had the power. I couldn't see her, but I pictured her and felt her hand and mouth on me in my darkness. I loved it. I hated it. But I loved it more. But really none of that mattered, because I was going to get whatever she decided I was to get, nothing more, nothing less. I felt like a mind with no body floating in sexual ecstasy, and I descended into a trance of sub-space. I think I cried, because I was wet around my eyes under the leather hood that had been laced tightly onto my face, but I'm not sure. I wasn't sure of anything.

Occasionally she would stop caressing me. At least I think she did. I dwelled in a world of sexual confusion, like I was drifting toward a type of insanity. The world buzzed and tingled and vibrated. Then she mounted me. I was sure. I think I was sure. At least my penis was surrounded and engulfed by warmth and moistness and pressure, such delicious pressure. And then the friction. Fingers in my mouth. I sucked. Hand over my mouth. I gasped for breath while she rode me. I think I continued to cry as I fought in vain for breath. I trusted her. I waited for her to say it was ok. I waited for her to let me breathe.

While I attempted to breathe, Sarah leaned down over me and said, "You can come now, baby. Now. Now. Now..." She lifted her hand off my mouth and the cool air came rushing in as I thrust up and into her, screaming in a high pitched and unrecognizable wail, not a Steve sound, but definitely a transformed Stephanie squeal and wail. My corset and the extra corseting effect of the sleep sack didn't allow me to get my breath back right away, so I had to hyperventilate quickly. My head tingled on the edge of consciousness as my orgasm overwhelmed me. There was nothing ordinary about this; it was a supernatural event. Calendars would surely begin and end on such events as this. It was mind altering and life changing that Sarah held my life in her hands, choosing to let me breathe or not, and instead of being angry at her, I loved her more. She had demonstrated her power over me, and I had accepted it as necessary.

I think I started repeating an easy to remember mantra that went something like this, "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck..." I suddenly wanted to be free of this bondage to writhe about at will, but that was not to be; I remained immobilized. My head lolled about helplessly until two hands forced my face upright and Sarah lowered herself onto my mouth, the only part of me besides my penis that was exposed to the air. I was forced to drink my own fluids and clean her until I felt her bucking and twisting on my face, felt her taking my breath away again until I tried to yell out. I had no time, no air, nothing left.

She pulled away with a sucking and popping sound like a suction cup on a granite counter top. I was incoherent, making weak murmuring sounds. Through the fog of after-sex I heard Sarah's mouth at my shrouded ear, "That was great. Good night sweetie. Sweet dreams my love. Last orgasm for quite some time."

What did she mean by that? I couldn't communicate. I was still crying, I think. I had transcended something; I don't know what, but I was in another higher plane of being, a place I had never been, and maybe a stair-step away from heaven. I wondered vaguely how many stairs there might be in this journey, and where heaven might be.

Maybe I didn't get my breath back. Maybe I had died and was there. I felt the bed move as Sarah made herself comfortable on the cloud beside me, perhaps her hand resting on my breast. I wasn't sure, but I knew she was there and she would love me again. Then nothing. Nothing but the exquisite tightness of my corset and sleep sack, and the abject helplessness it delivered.

I don't know if I slept. Sensory deprivation is a strange animal, and all the points of reference for consciousness are removed or at least warped, and in this case I had no means to change the setting; the bondage was so absolute. In my lucid moments I wondered how Sarah knew this fantasy of mine, to be put in such bondage, allowed to have an orgasm, and then to be left in the same bondage even though I had been sexually spent. Each time during the night that I woke up (or became aware) , I would panic with the inability to move and see or hear, and then the reality of my fantasy would return, building up again as the night wore on. It was like she had put a toy away for the night in a drawer. I would be available in the morning to be used by her at will.

That was the last straw for me I think. I cracked and I have never been the same. I never want to be the same. It was like a mind-altering drug. I saw into myself with such a clarity of vision. I was a man who wanted to wear women's clothes and wanted to be dominated by another woman. If I was forced to do these things, it took away the guilt of doing it. I was free within my slavery to my fetishes and to Sarah. Life became simple and uncomplicated, and it was like my body and mind smiled that night, and I haven't stopped smiling since.

But it wasn't over.

In the morning Sarah did the strangest thing. She kept me secured in the sleep-sack and washed my penis and balls gently and carefully. I was hard with a morning woody, so she asked me if I needed to pee.

"I'd rather do something else," I said with a laugh.

"I want you to pee," she said, "I'll hold this jar so you can."

I remember feeling very awkward about this, but as I couldn't see anything through the leather hood, the feeling subsided until I eventually emptied myself. She washed me again. There was no movement for a while and I waited, as I had no other choice.

Then I screamed.

The ice bag came out of the blue and my whole body convulsed in its bondage, but my penis and balls took the brunt of it. They responded predictably, like a dip in the North Atlantic.

"What was that for?" I yelled.

Sarah didn't answer. I only felt my testicles being manipulated in some way, as if they were being pushed or pulled through something, something smooth and hard. Then I felt a constriction behind my balls like a ring had been attached. My penis was next as she pinched, pushed, and pulled it through the ring, so that now the ring was behind my entire package.

I squealed again as the ice was dispatched once more. It was strange trying to figure out what was happening down there at the time, but I know now. Sarah inverted the toe of one of my nylons over my penis head and then I felt it being pulled into something equally as smooth and hard as the ring. A few odd touches here and there and she started to let me out of the sleep sack.

"What did you do?" I asked. There was something heavy at my crotch, and my penis felt like it was enclosed in something.

"You'll see," she said soothingly, "You'll see."

Finally released from the sleep sack and the hood, I looked down with shock at the weighty object between my legs. It was a shiny stainless steel device, solid for most of the tube concealing my penis, except for the end which resembled a birdcage, with bars, and a hole to pee through. I stood up and it swung heavily there, sluggish, like a pendulum.

"Jesus Sarah! What is this?"

"It's a Lori 2 chastity cage. It fits you perfectly I see. Let me explain the details. First of all, as you can see, you're tight within it when you're soft, and there are two blunt, but effective, spikes at the bottom opening of the tube and at the top of the ring. Trying to pull your penis out would be painful. The cage is locked to the ring with a special screw here. If you look at it closely, you'll see the screw head is like a hex shape, but it's raised in the middle so a normal hex wrench key won't work, and the only place you can get a key for it is from the people that made the device. I have the only key right now. You don't get one."

I looked at her as if she were mad and started to experiment with it, pulling and twisting. It could not be removed, and then I tried to pry my penis out with my fingers. The spikes dug in threateningly and I stopped. I looked at Sarah and said, "You mean I can't get this off?"

"No."

"Why?" I asked, "Do I get to have sex?" This was getting alarming.

"When I say so," she said nonchalantly, "Not like in the past where you went off and masturbated when I didn't let you come. You're completely dependent on me for orgasm now. Completely." And she pinched me playfully on the cheek.

This was crazy, I thought, but at the same time I got that familiar rush of eroticism as I started to get hard. That created a vicious circle of arousal, inability to get erect, and back again. My penis filled with blood and filled the cage so that the head pushed against the bars, flesh bulging and purple with desire. But that was as far as I could go. I shook it with frustration, and then let it fall, even the weight of it defeating the attempt at erection.

I looked at her with my mouth open as I realized what had just happened. I could no longer play her games and then sneak away and masturbate. My mind was racing and then I had a thought. "Well, this is kind of silly really, because if you unlock me to have sex, then I simply won't put it back on."

"Oh yes you will. I've thought through that. Here's the other part of your "gift"." She waved a solid stainless steel ring with a diameter of roughly half an inch. Attached to it were two handcuffs, one on each side. "Come here," she said,

I walked slowly toward her as she opened the ring at its hinge and placed it around my neck. It "clinked" into position, locked securely, and the cuffs hung from it like ear rings. "Let me guess...a special lock?" I said apprehensively.

She just winked and said, "From now on, when I choose to let you come, this gets locked around your neck first. Then I unlock your chastity cage. If you don't put your cage back on after sex, those rather embarrassing cuffs dangle from your collar until you do. Oh, by the way, it's called a slave collar and the word "SLAVE" is chiseled right into it all around its circumference. That would be embarrassing out in public wouldn't it?"

"What about when I go to the doctor?" I said, looking for loopholes.

"What about it?" she said, smiling with triumph.

No give there. "Flying?" I asked hopefully.

"For that you are freed from the cage, but it'll be easy to get you back into it. You're such a slut for bondage."