Daphne Rosen's Bitch Ch. 03

I stared up at the shelf in my bedroom with trepidation. The butt plugs that Mistress Rosen had purchased for me were arranged neatly in order, from the little red-jeweled plug, barely the size of my pinkie finger which I'd long since outgrown, to the comfortable yellow plug that I'd eventually grown accustomed to, still warm from being freshly pulled from my now winking ass, all the way up to the massive violet-jeweled plug that was at least the size of my fist. My Mistress had informed me that one day I would graduate to that size, as impossible as it seemed, but today I faced with a more immediate issue. I turned the cold steel of the emerald-jeweled plug over and over in my hands. At first I had resisted the idea of plugging my ass at all, but I'd grown to appreciate the feeling of fullness, and the grinding pressure on my prostate was the only way I could drain my overflowing balls since my cock had been unceremoniously locked away. But those first two plugs had seemed in my mind like a little finger or two slipping up my bum. Maybe even my Mistress' fingers. This shining new plug represented something more.

It's girth was well-beyond finger territory, much more similar to a cock, and probably a little bigger around than mine to be honest. The length might not quite have been there, but as I considered where it was meant to go, I couldn't help drawing the connection to having a cock up my ass. Was that really the road I wanted to go down? I mean, I flirted with all my male customers at the coffee shop, but that was just to earn tips to show my love for my Mistress (and to pay for the unending series of purchases she placed on my confiscated credit card). And maybe I'd enjoyed when Steve, one of my regulars, had pulled me in for a rough, sensuous, oh-so-dreamy kiss, but now I just let him and the others kiss me to keep the tips flowing in. I hardly even enjoyed it.

"Well bitch, I haven't got all night," Daphne's voice came through my speakers as the blinking light on my webcam reminded me that she had the power to watch me whenever she wanted. "Are you going to be my sweet little utter twink and shove that big plug up your ass, or do we need to move on to discipline?"

"No Mistress Rosen, that won't be necessary." I replied as I knelt on all fours and prepared myself. My cheeks were still tender and red from the spanking she'd given me earlier that day for taking to long to prepare her coffee, and I didn't want to risk any further punishment.

I gasped as the cold metal tip pressed against my slightly gaping hole. The few minutes my old plug had been removed hadn't been nearly enough for me to tighten up, but the added size of the new, larger plug represented a distinct challenge. I wondered what my Mistress was thinking as she watched through my webcam in silence. Was she proud of me? Of how quickly I had come so far under her instruction? A month ago I would have never thought something of this size could possibly fit inside of me, but now it was almost.... nearly... oh goddess... there!

Once I forced the widest part of the head past my burning, protesting sphincter, the plug rocketed in the rest of the way, slamming into my prostate with mind-numbing force and weight. My whole body spasmed and convulsed as rope after rope of thick cum oozed from my chastity cage, forming a rapidly growing puddle on the floor between my knees. The MaxCum supplements that Mistress Rosen had prescribed me ensured that my caged balls were always swollen and full in spite of their steady leaking. So even though I didn't have a proper orgasm (I could hardly even remember what those were like at this point), the amount of cum that seeped out of me in that moment was several times what my largest nut had ever been.

"My what a good little boy you are for me," came the disembodied voice of my goddess. "Now thank me and clean up that mess you made."

"Oh thank you Mistress Rosen, thank you!" I sighed as I scooted back and began lapping up my spilled seed. And I meant it. She was so good to me, loving me in her own special way, even if she never said it. Honestly I didn't even mind cleaning up my cum at this point, given how used to the taste I was from my nightly gooning homework sessions. It didn't seem right to let it go to waste, and I could almost hear Mistress' sweet voice reminding me over and over that cum belonged in my tummy.

The next morning I woke up early and groggily pulled on my yoga outfit. Like so many other things recently it had shown up first as a charge on my credit card, then as a package on my doorstep. Yoga was Daphne's latest obsession, and she insisted that I join her as the workout and flexibility would be good for me. In truth, I didn't mind it too much, as that meant precious time with her outside the coffee shop, but I did mind the clothes she had me wear. She'd insisted that the tight leggings and racerback tank were unisex, but I had a hard time believing her. The worst part was that unlike the booty shorts she had me wearing to work now, I couldn't rely on an apron to cover the bulge my chastity cage made in the front. I always made sure to wear one of my tighter thongs to keep things tucked away (and to make sure I didn't have any panty lines showing, Mistress Rosen hated those). Perhaps that was enough, because none of the other women in the class ever mentioned the little tucked away outline of my chastity cage stubbornly protruding from the front.

My heart leapt as I stepped into the warm yoga studio. There were a dozen or so women milling about, chatting while they waited for the class to start. Most of them had classic "yoga girl" builds, long toned legs leading up to a cute little butt, flat tummies, a hint of cleavage peeking out from the tops of their sports bras, and nearly universal bottle-blond hair pulled back in a pony tail. But my eyes were pulled straight to the back of the class where due to a twist of fate nearly a month ago the incredible Daphne Rosen was waiting for me. She possessed an undeniable gravity that affected everyone in the room. The other women in the class orbited around her, unable to ignore her presence with their mix of jealous peeks, awestruck glances, and more than a few lustful stares. But they also seemed afraid to approach to closely, as if recognizing her natural dominance and ceding territory to her as the unspoken alpha, leery of being trapped in her web. I, on the other hand, was already enmeshed beyond any hope of escape, and happily threaded my way to the waiting spot for me at her side.

I marveled as I did everytime I saw her at Mistress Rosen's beauty. Her five foot three frame was overloaded with curves, from her powerful legs, up to her glorious ass (each cheek of which was easily bigger than the toned little booties of the Skinny Minnie's in the class), through her narrow waist, and up to her ridiculously gravity-defying G-cup boobs. But the crown above all was her beautiful face, with piercing blue eyes framed by raven-black hair and a broad, imperious smile that exuded utter confidence in her control over me, her happy little bitch.

"You look so cute in those new clothes I bought you," she said as she greeted me with a tight hug.

I groaned as my imprisoned cock strained to get free from it's triple prison of cage, thong, and yoga pants. My arousal at the close contact and affection only increased as she grasped my butt with both hands, squeezing hard as she pulled my cheeks apart and slid her fingers into my exposed crack, confirming that my newly upgraded plug was in place with a little jiggle that sent spasms from my prostate through my entire body.

"Thank you Mistress Rosen," I gasped out, Causing a few blond ponytailed heads to turn back in our direction. As Daphne released me I saw them looking down to my crotch, where to my embarrassment a wet spot was forming.

"Tsk, tsk little slut," Daphne teased, "remember we're in public, you know the rules."

"Yes, Miss Rosen. Sorry Miss Rosen."

Mercifully the other girls quickly lost interest and faced forward once again as the class started. Although I'd initially started yoga just as a way to spend more time with Daphne (and, to be honest, because she'd ordered me to), I'd quickly found myself enjoying the classes for their own merits. I felt graceful and free wearing my 'unisex' workout clothes, and as I developed my flexibility I took pride in matching the instructors fluid motions from pose to pose. I'd never been particularly athletic, but somehow in yoga I found a personal beauty in physical expression that I'd never known before.

Daphne, however, seemed determined to keep me from maintaining a Zen state. She constantly repositioned herself so that in each pose she was giving me a closeup view of her assets, whether bending over and jiggling her ass in front of me, or giving me a view down her cleavage, or spreading her legs wide and drawing my eyes downward. Through it all she maintained a wicked grin like the cat who are the canary, clearly enjoying my discomfort at being unable to resist her allure while also being unable to do anything about my unbearable arousal.

She also made a game out of sneaking in intimate contact with me under the guise of 'correcting my form'. Each time as she moved me into the correct position, she would cup a hand around my ass and play with my butt plug, or reach through my legs to squeeze my bundled up package, or brush her hands across my chest while stealthily tweaking my increasingly sensitive nipples. Today she took it even farther, mounting me from behind while I was in downward facing dog and grabbing me by the hips to 'help me lift them higher so I could really feel it deep'. But while firmly grasping my hips she began thrusting against my helpless ass. Hard. Her dry humping wouldn't have accomplished much, except for that fact that my newly upgraded butt plug was forced in by each thrust, then pushed back out again by my twitching pelvic floor.

The room spun and everything around me blurred as each of her powerful thrusts ground the hard and heavy plug into my sensitive ass. I put every ounce of self-control I had into holding my position and stifling my groans. She didn't have a cock, but my Mistress was fucking my ass anyway, and in public none the less. But she was right. I was her sweet little utter twink. I didn't even think of trying to stop her, even when her anal pounding started making me leak cum with each thrust. Even when the dribbles of cum grew into a steady stream that stained the entire front of my yoga pants. I submissively took her humping until she was satisfied that every drop of cum had been milked from me.

After class I scurried quickly to the bathroom to change into my work clothes. I paused for a moment before I entered, considering both the yoga pants and racerback tank I was wearing and the booty shorts and spaghetti strap crop top I was preparing to change into. In a way it almost made more sense for me to use the women's restroom. After all, if anyone who didn't know me were to see me in either outfit that's probably where they'd assume I belonged... But instead I pushed into the men's restroom, which at least had the giant perk of nobody else using it. Nobody, that is, except for Daphne. She definitely didn't belong there, but insisted that it was fine since there weren't any men in the classes and that she needed my help to clean up after class.

She entered just as I'd finished wiping of the spilled cum (first with my fingers to scoop what I could salvage into my mouth, then with paper towels to finish the job) and gotten dressed in my work clothes. With well practiced routine she walked sensuously up to me, then paused, wordlessly waiting. I feel to my knees and began peeling her sweaty yoga pants down over her ass and all the way down her legs. as she stepped each foot out of them she rested her hands on my shoulders, both balancing herself and reinforcing the natural hierarchy of our relationship.

Then she stepped back and held out her hand. Again, I obeyed her nonverbal instructions without question, fishing around in my bag for $100 in tips I'd collected the previous day. Every dollar represented me flirting and flaunting my twink body for every man that came into the coffee shop like a bimbo nympho slut, and more than a few came from customers who'd 'stolen' a kiss from me while handing over their drink. I'd worked hard for that money, and money was tight with all the purchases Daphne kept putting on my credit card, plus the uptown yoga class fees. But I didn't hesitate for an instant as I held out my love offering, knowing the reward I would receive. After our first experience together in the bathroom at work, Daphne had decided that $100 was a fair price to pay for worshipping her ass, and it turned out she had need of my services often.

She smiled as she tucked the cash into her bra, then turned to face the counter, giving me a second to get into position behind her before she sat down on my face, turning me into her kneeling makeup stool. My money troubles, my earlier embarrassment, and everything else in the world faded away as her beautiful ass encompassed my face. My senses were overwhelmed in an instant. The pressure of her weight pressing through my whole body. The complex bouquet of scents from her sweat mingled with her perfume. The utterly intoxicating taste of her warm skin as I began lapping at her with abandon. The smooth touch of her perfectly curved booty all over my buried face. I was in heaven.

I did my best to be a good stool, straining to hold still as I bore my Mistress. She mostly ignored me as she toweled off, applied her makeup, and touched up her hair. If I moved too much beneath her or if she felt my licking grow too close to her forbidden pussy (she regularly reminded me that it wasn't meant for gooners like me), she would reach a hand back to grab a fistful of my hair and jerk my head back into position or deliver a warning kick with her heel to my tightly caged package. But if was a very good stool then sometimes she would reward me with a gentle pat on the head, calling me her 'good little ass kisser' and rubbing her foot tenderly up and down my crotch. She carefully ensured it was never quite enough stimulation to trigger a release, keeping me right on the edge, but I didn't even care. Her praise and affection meant far more to me than anything else, and the hornier I became the deeper I feel in love with my goddess.

Finally Daphne finished her routine and stood up. For a moment I continued licking the air in confusion, the cold air feeling like the blankets had been ripped off my soul after the warmth of her flesh. I wrapped my arms around her thighs and delivered a sorrowful parting kiss to each of her cheeks as she dismissed me to my dayjob, reminding me that I needed to keep earning well to pay for the next round of things she planned to buy for me.

Later that morning as I started my shift I fretted over how I was possibly going to afford yet more purchases. I hadn't bought anything for myself in the past month besides food, and the daily ass worship fees ate up nearly all of my tips. I was still stressing over that when she walked in wearing her form-fitting dark red halter top dress, one of my absolute favorites. I put her usual drink on my tab and brought it over right away, seeing that she was shopping for couture lingerie on her laptop with my credit card sitting out. It looked beautiful. Classy and sexy at the same time. For a moment I thought about what it would look like on me, but then I saw the price as Daphne added it to her cart and I cringed.

"Miss Rosen, that's so kind of you, but you don't need to buy me those," I offered meekly, hoping to salvage what was left of my budget.

"You think these are for you? You ditzy bimbo," Daphne replied with a scornful laugh. "Your little ass is nowhere near ready for this kind of decoration, I'm buying your gifts for me. You know, the ones you owe me for being so kind to you? And I'm so very, very kind to you that I'm even handling picking them out myself, so all you have to do is pay for them. Isn't that wonderful? Say 'Thank you Miss Rosen.'"

"Thank you Miss Rosen."

"You're welcome my little bitch. Now that's the attitude that I'm looking for. Gratitude. Not whatever that shit was you started with was. Now is there anything else?"

"Um," I hesitated, worried about daring to ask for what I truly wanted.

"I asked you a direct fucking question, and I want a direct fucking answer. None of this 'Um' nonsense. What the fuck is that? Now, is there anything else?"

"May I please see you in them?" I blurted out. "I mean, since I'm kinda buying them for you?"

"See me wearing these? " She laughed again, even harder than before. "You? You couldn't handle seeing me wearing these. Not a chance. But since you asked so nicely, I'll go ahead and let you buy me a new dress too, and maybe if you're good I'll let you see me wear that."

I groaned audibly, realizing I'd just added another bill to the growing pile.

"Ohh, are you worried about paying for all this? Is that your problem?"

"Yes Miss Rosen," I admitted.

"Well don't you worry your pretty little head about that, I've decided to help you increase your earning potential by making some investments in your appearance. You've got to spend money to make money you know, and when I'm through with you you'll be swimming in tips from all the hot guys coming through here."

"Thank you Miss Rosen," I said, operating purely on reflex in my shock as I wondered just what she had in mind.

I didn't have to wonder for long. A couple days later boxes stuffed with new bottles of pills showed up. Unlike the MaxCum supplements Daphne had started me on previously, the labels on these bottles were all in Chinese characters. I tried translating them with my phone, but couldn't make much sense of them. At least I was able to make out the dosages, and knowing what Mistress Rosen would want me to do, I carefully laid out one dose of each and swallowed them down with a glass of water. My initiative was rewarded when I logged onto my webcam and opened my email to find my nightly gooning homework from my Mistress. She praised me for taking my medicine, then instructed me to bring the bottles over to my desk before everything went a little hazy. As usual, I had a vague awareness of watching various videos from Daphne's illustrious porn career, each with a personalized voice over from her that burrowed straight into my unconscious mind. Every once in a while I'd see a video of her speaking directly to me in the camera, or one of her private collection of unreleased sex tapes.

Numbly following her directions I played with myself as I stared, sucking on the large black dildo she'd bought for me as she blew real big black cocks on screen, tweaking my nipples as the men she was with played with and sucked on her tits, fiddling with my chastity cage and squeezing my swollen balls as she rubbed herself to orgasm while riding dick after dick, and sliding my plug in and out as she happily took giant cocks up her hungry ass. I'd always wanted to be with Daphne, even before I meet her when I was just another guy jerking it to her videos. But in my hypnotized mind I found myself for the first time wanting to be her. Or, as that was clearly too lofty of a goal for any mortal, to be like her. To have her magnetism, pulling everyone's gaze to herself. To have her beauty and style. To move like her, with sinuous grace in every swaying step. To make men hard like her... She was a goddess I could never match, but deep in my mind a dream took root. If I couldn't be a goddess, I could at least be a slut.

When I came to I saw my shot glass sitting in front of me on the desk in it's usual spot. Ever since I'd started leaking so badly during my homework, Mistress had me collect my dribbling cum in it so I could drink it down. Without putting much thought into it I casually picked it up and threw it back. Instantly I noted the odd powdery texture mixed in with my treat. looking around my desk I saw signs of crushed white powder everywhere, which I soon traced back to the half-empty pill bottles I'd received just that day. Just how much did she have me take?