tagBDSMFinn Ch. 08: Mine

Finn Ch. 08: Mine


"Can you escape?" she asked.

"I don't want to escape, Mistress," he replied.

"That isn't what I asked." Her eyes ran over every part of him, all at her fingertips to use however she pleased. "Can you escape?"

He pulled against the ropes that held him spread eagle in the center of the bed, his elbows and knees bending until they hit the resistance. Her blood ripped through her, her heart throbbing between her legs while she watched him attempt to break free.

"No, Mistress. I can't."

He was exquisite in his helplessness. A body she had imagined touching too many times and now she would use it while it was still hers to have. The past week had been a pleasant foreplay, but now the part of her she had been trying to suppress was screaming through her veins.

She wrapped the thin piece of rope she was holding around her hand, then reached down and grabbed the hem of her dress, pulling it off over her head. She shoved her underwear to the floor then unhooked her bra and let it fall from her chest.

His tongue played against his lips while she approached, then deftly slid over her clit when she lowered herself onto his mouth. His hands made weak attempts at freedom, their jerks and twists intensifying the electricity his mouth was sending through her.

She rotated around and rubbed her nipples down his core, then wrapped her hand around his length, pulling it towards her mouth. His hot breath gasped against her, his tongue momentarily losing its focus when her lips wound around his tip.

Her mouth slid down over him, her tongue and cheeks enveloping him inside their warmth. She wanted him hard, as hard as she could get him. His tongue floundered over her uselessly, unable to maintain giving pleasure as it received pleasure. It was a lesson he needed to learn, but not tonight.

She moved away from his face, rubbing herself down his chest. His knees jerked up, his heels trying to dig into the bed so he could shove himself farther into her mouth. Every desperate movement his body made sent more of her arousal dripping down his skin. She ground her clit into him, sliding herself up and down his sternum.

"Mistress, please let me come," his breathless plea sounded from behind her.

"No." She began wrapping the rope from her hand around the top of his sack. She continued winding it tightly, encasing his orgasm inside the bindings. Once he was thoroughly imprisoned, she took his length into her mouth one more time before sitting up and positioning herself over him.

She turned to face him before sliding him in slowly, watching his eyes follow the sight of himself disappearing inside of her. His width provided a pleasurable stretch, his length a satisfying fullness. She spread her thighs until she covered every last inch then ground down on him, rocking her hips back to grind her clit against him.

She lifted herself back off, grasping him in her hand and rubbing him between her folds. His body pulled at its bounds, trying to take back control. His desperation sent tremors through her, and when she couldn't take denying herself a minute longer she lowered herself onto him again, the feel of him inside of her forcing a groan from her lips.

She shoved her hips forward, the friction making her shiver. His eyes followed the rhythm of her breasts, his fingers curling towards them. She moved her hands to her chest, taunting him as they played against her own skin.

Ripples of heat coursed through her the harder she pounded down onto him. She kept going, craving the tingle that was shooting through her body every time his length penetrated through her.

He pulled against his bindings, his instinct begging to take command of the thrusting. But the ropes held tight and his motions tore through her, turning the ripples of heat into crashing waves.

She bent down over him and he lifted his head up, his tongue hunting for her own. She pressed her lips to his between gasping breaths, the taste of his mouth calling her back every time she pulled away.

The heat burned straight up her spine and out through her fingertips. Her muscles spasmed and clenched as the orgasm took control of her body. Her breath came out in a loud moan while her hips continued to slam down against his, prolonging the sensation as long as her body would allow. An aftershock hit, the spasms stealing the remaining energy from her fatigued muscles.

"Please, Mistress..." he begged into her ear.

"No," she said, trying to catch her breath.


Finn sat on the floor of his room waiting for his mistress to get home from work. He wished she would hurry so he could show her how good a boy he planned to be. Maybe if he was a good boy tonight she would allow him relief from the eternal throbbing her denial caused. Memories of the previous night wouldn't release him from their incessant taunting. He could still feel her grinding into his chest, and had left her scent on himself as long as she would allow.

Though it had been several days, his recent punishment still lingered in his mind and he had no intention of giving her a reason to repeat it- ever. He was still refusing to return the multiple texts from his friends, and had asked his uncle if he could work at ranches they wouldn't be at. He couldn't avoid them forever, but it was easier to try than it was to deal with them.

When he heard the front door open his heart began to pound. He touched his fingers to his neck nervously as her footsteps grew closer.

"Get cleaned up and dressed in something decent," she said, leaning on the doorframe.

"Yes, Mistress." He jumped to his feet to follow her directions. After he showered he stood in front of his closet trying to decide what to wear. His only option for pants was jeans and he pulled on the nicest pair he owned. He grabbed his favorite long sleeved button-up shirt and started putting it on.

"I don't like that shirt. Pick a different one," her voice came from the doorway. Then she turned and walked away.

"Yes, Mistress." He unbuttoned the shirt and threw it on the floor of the closet. He picked through the rest of the shirts that hung there, unsure which one would please her. When he couldn't decide he started to worry he was taking too long. Then his anxiety doubled when he realized that by picking the wrong shirt originally he may have missed an opportunity for praise. He began wildly tearing through the closet.

"Why aren't you dressed?" she asked, startling him.

He turned to look at her, his panic paralyzing him. She stared at him for a minute then walked towards the closet. He sat down at her feet and wrapped his arms around her legs, praying she wouldn't scold him. The sound of the hangers scraping against the wooden pole was all he heard.

"Put this one on," she directed, handing a shirt down to him.

"Yes, Mistress," he replied, releasing his hold on her legs to take it from her.

An hour later he was shocked when the limo that had picked them up was pulling into the parking lot of a bowling alley two towns over. He had assumed they were going to the château, though her slacks and t-shirt had hinted otherwise.

He held open one of the double doors at the entrance then followed her inside. Music blared from a jukebox that was surrounded by people waiting to pay their dollar and pick the next song. They approached the counter to rent shoes and he had to yell his size over the sound of the music and the echoing of balls crashing into pins to the woman on the other side.

A man with dark hair and a goatee approached the counter then stopped next to his mistress, leaning down towards her face. "You ready to get slaughtered?"

He went to step between them, his muscles tensing in anticipation of knocking the man to the ground. But she put her hand on his chest, stopping him.

She leaned in towards the man's ear, lowering her voice. "You have a better chance of Mistress Natalia letting your cock out of its cage tonight and sucking it dry than you do of slaughtering anyone."

"Please don't say things like that," the man said, flashing a smile. "It makes my balls hurt."

She laughed and grabbed the shoes off the counter then headed towards the lanes. He followed behind her closely, the man with the goatee a few steps behind him. Most of the lanes were taken, and a group of people were already seated around the one she stopped at.

"Finn, this is Lexa and her husband, Ian," she started the introductions.

Recognition instantly hit him, and his face started to burn when he realized the first time they met he was collared and sitting at his mistress' feet. But they smiled at him like the night at the château had never happened, and he shook their hands and smiled back like he didn't know about Ian's piercing.

"This is Natalie, Rachel, Alex and Ray..." his mistress continued, turning around when she said the last name.

He followed her lead and turned to shake hands with the man who several minutes ago he had wanted to punch in the face, then sat down in the empty chair next to her and began pulling off his shoes. When he looked up he noticed Lexa had her feet in Ian's lap and he was tying her laces. It was a subtle act, one he wouldn't have thought twice about if he didn't also notice the anklet she wore with a key hanging from it.

"Beer?" Alex asked, approaching his mistress with a full pitcher in one hand and two empty mugs in the other. Recognition set in once again, flashing back to the night his mistress had brought him to the château. He had stared at the metal collar around Alex's neck while he walked through the front door.

"Yes, thank you," she replied, and grasped the mug when he handed it to her.

Alex then turned and looked down at him. "Beer?"

"Ummm..." he started, remembering the internal inferno.

Alex smiled and winked at him then turned to his mistress.

"Yes. One," she said.

Alex poured the mug full and handed it to him. He could feel the redness creeping back into his face. They all knew his secret.

"Finally, the s-Team has a new player!" Ian said, pointing up at the screens above their heads. "Finn, please tell me you can bowl, 'cause we need to kick some ass."

He looked up at the screens and noticed his mistress, as well as the other three women, were listed under the M-Team. "I used to be pretty good. I mean, I can hit the majority of the pins the majority of the time."

"He could bowl like Roy Munson before his hand got demolished and the s-Team still wouldn't stand a chance," Rachel said, and the other girls cheered in agreement.

"Only because you ladies cheat," Ray fired back.

Rachel's eyes ripped through him. "Excuse me?" She began poking him in the ribcage with her finger, making him laugh and flinch.

"Stop! That tickles!" he begged.

She smiled as she continued her assault on his ribcage. "We do not cheat."

"Fine! You don't cheat!" His torso turned away from her, his arms wrapping around his sides to block her. "Red! Red!"

She paused momentarily, then grinned and shoved her hand underneath his arm to dig her fingers into his side. "That isn't your safeword."

"I don't remember it," Ray said, smashing himself into one of the chairs in a fruitless attempt to squirm away from her.

"How unfortunate for you," Rachel replied, digging her fingers between his ribs.

"Rumpelstiltskin! Rumpelstiltskin!" Ray cried out, his face red with laughter.

His beer almost shot back out through his nose at the statement, and he turned to see his mistress choking on hers. He managed to slap her on the back several times even though his laughter was quickly draining the strength from his muscles. She turned to look at him, her smile covering her face as she wiped tears from her eyes.

"That isn't your safeword, either!" Rachel exclaimed, still trying to catch her breath once her own laughter had subsided.

"No, but it got you to stop," Ray replied, standing back up and grabbing a yellow ball off the rack. "Can we begin?" he asked, turning to Lexa.

"Yes," Lexa answered, standing up to grab a ball of her own.

The interaction shocked him. He had imagined the slaves spending their days locked in cages when they weren't being used. But here they were, laughing and joking with those who enslaved them. And while there were subtle hints of the hierarchy, to anyone who wasn't aware of its existence they all just appeared to be a group of friends joking with each other.

"Good luck," his mistress said, running her fingers through the hair on the back of his head when his name lit up on the board.

He closed his eyes and everything disappeared except the feel of her touch. When she stopped he opened his eyes again and felt slightly dazed. He took a sip of his beer, trying to force his mind back into reality. Ray was right, they did cheat.

After he managed to knock down nine of ten pins in two rolls he sat back down. When his mistress got up for her turn, he could almost taste her as she bent down to roll the ball. All the pins went flying, and he glanced up at the red X flashing across the screen. She smiled proudly, then shook her head at him when she caught his eyes wandering over her body as she walked back towards him.

"Damn," Ian said, watching the screen, then stood up for his turn.

"Sit," Lexa demanded, putting her hand on his shoulder to stop him. Then she got up and sat back down in his lap, grinding her hips into it momentarily before getting back up. "Now you can go. Good luck."

Even though he wasn't the one with the piercing, he could imagine the discomfort Lexa's tease had caused.

"Shake it off. Just shake it off," Alex prompted, rubbing Ian's shoulders while he approached the lane.

"I am. I got this," Ian replied, shaking his head then his torso and arms. He rolled the ball down the lane, then turned back around and held his hands in the air in celebration when the X flashed on the screen. He headed back towards his seat, high-fiving Alex and Ray on his way. "Nice try," he said to Lexa, then smiled when she playfully spanked him as he sat down.

They were all so comfortable with each other, which was shocking given what they all knew about each other. But they all shared the same secrets, and so did he. He wasn't an outsider looking in, or a pretender trying to fit in.

"How was work?" Natalie asked, running her hand down her long blonde ponytail before sitting down next to his mistress.

"My first appointment this morning consisted of me watching a naked man run up and down stairs," she replied.

"That's why I prefer to tie mine down. Makes things much easier," Natalie said, looking over his mistress' shoulder to him.

"I promise it wasn't me," he replied, reading her assumption. "I'm done running."

"Good," his mistress said, grabbing him under his chin and pulling him towards her mouth. When she went to lean back into her seat his mouth followed hers as long as it could before his flexibility halted it.

"Why was he running up and down the stairs naked?" Alex asked.

"Because he wants to self touch and the staff aren't letting him, so he keeps running to different areas of the house trying to get them to leave him alone," she replied.

"Self touch?" Alex asked.

"That's the terminology we use to refer to masturbation because it sounds less...sexual," she explained.

"So what did you recommend?" Natalie asked, pressing her fingers together until her knuckles popped. "I mean, it's his right to do it."

"That's what I told them. As long as he's not doing it in a public area they need to get over it," she replied.

"Wait a minute..." Ray said, cutting in on their conversation. "What are these rights you speak of?"

"You gave up your rights three years ago," Natalie reminded him. "Unless you want them back."

Ray bent down and discreetly pressed his lips to her thigh, bringing a smile flashing across her face. "Never."

"So let me make sure I understand this," he started, turning towards his mistress. "You spend your days fighting for the rights of men, but spend your afternoons thinking up creative ways to enslave them?"

She tapped her finger against her chin and tilted her head up, then turned towards him and ran her hand through his hair. "I like to think if I use my powers for good it will cancel out me using them for evil."

He watched the movement of her mouth as she responded, almost too lost in the curve of her lips to hear her words. When he forced himself to look away he found Ian's eyes watching his hand touch at his neck. He hadn't realized he was doing it, and quickly moved his hand back to his lap.


Morgan stood in her kitchen, furiously stirring together diced chicken, ricotta cheese, spinach and the other various ingredients she needed to make the lasagna she had planned. It was a complicated recipe, but she needed the distraction to calm her nerves.

Bowling night had been a success, at least for her team and her purpose in bringing him. He needed to understand his desire to be submissive didn't have to change who he was. It was just another part of him, and he didn't have to lose the rest of himself to embrace it.

Once dinner was in the oven she took a quick shower then put on a sheer grey dress that fit her in a way that would make him wonder why she had bothered putting on anything at all. The timer went off when she walked back into the kitchen and she pulled the lasagna out, made their plates, then sat down at the kitchen table, scrolling through her phone while she waited.

The sound of the front door opening caught her attention and she watched him take off his boots then walk to where she was. He obediently sat at her feet and leaned down to kiss her leg.

"How was your day?" she asked.

"Good, Mistress."

"What did you do?"

"I checked the fence on one of the ranches we haven't been to in awhile. But we're going to have to move the cattle there soon once the weather cools off." He shoveled lasagna into his mouth, then guzzled the glass of water she handed him.

"Did you see your friends?"

"No, Mistress." His hand lightly ran over his neck before falling back into his lap.

"Why not?" she asked, watching his hand go back to his neck at her question. He wanted his collar, but it was important for him to recognize the difference in how he felt when he had it on versus how he felt when it was off.

"They were working somewhere else today I guess."

She let his lie slide. It was an issue he would have to deal with eventually but it wasn't one she could help him with. However, maybe having better trained friends would show him his current friends didn't make the rules on what it meant to be a man.

Once they were finished with dinner he went to take a shower, following the routine she had set for him. She met him in his room after he got out and as she leaned down to buckle the collar around his neck she couldn't help but wonder if this would be the last time she saw him collared and chained. The thought was devastating. But she had to trust her instinct, and her gut told her she couldn't wait any longer. Waiting longer would just delay the inevitable.

"Do you want to please me?" she asked, buckling the left wrist restraint in place.

"Yes, Mistress," he responded eagerly, pushing his head underneath her dress.

"On the bed," she directed.

He got on the bed and lie down on his back, his mouth silently calling to her. She positioned herself over his face, shuddering when his tongue slid over her.

"Good boy." She closed her eyes while she rubbed against him. "Hands above your head."

He removed his hands from their place on her thighs and she fastened them above his head to the wrought iron headboard, then climbed off him and stepped off the bed.

He looked confused, aware she hadn't come. His confusion quickly turned to concern. "Was I not pleasing you, Mistress?" he asked.

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