Shy Guys Make Good Boys Pt. 02

And it was all I needed, if I'm honest about it. It was the thing that made me well aware that I would find the most happiness in being her slave because my words were true. I didn't need her to clarify that she was only seeing me for the moment. Whatever brief thoughts of curiosities on the subject I had, whatever small twinges of jealous sensations threatened me, as will happen in the hearts of men, I could find my security again in ways on my own, small moments that were more truthful than even words in their own way. One time when we visited Sulfur's, one of her friends had said, "So this is why you haven't been playing anymore," while I was tethered on my knees in a humiliated position.

And those moments were enough for me because she gave me what I needed, the real thing I needed. She didn't just give me permission to be all of those qualities that I had once hated so badly.

She commanded me to give over and feel more of them, to let them rule. It felt like finally getting to swim with a current, rather than continuously struggle so hard to be something I wasn't.

I dropped to my knees in the way she liked, with her hand on my shoulder to gently press and make it clear that it was where I should be. She had trained me to sit straight, my knees close together, although relaxed, and to look up at her attentively. I took a breath before I finally asked what I truly wished for. "Please don't give me an out anymore." Her hand stilled in the act of stroking my hair and she watched me. "I haven't been able to take one anyway, but the thought of you taking it away in full is the one selfish thing I would ask you for."

"Do you want choices at all?"

Ugh. Choices? You mean those things that made me antsy and anxious all the bloody time? That one was easy. "No, please, Mistress." The thought of having her take them away was the greatest heaven I could think of. It was freedom from them in a way that made my blood race in hot arousal.

She watched me again for a moment. "Not even one? Not even how you eat or when?"

Something in her voice made my pulse quicken in happiness. "No, not even that."

One more time, she was quiet, but then she finally said, in a soft, calm voice, "Okay." And I couldn't keep a shudder of fiendish excitement to the thought. Her eyes turned strict. "On one condition."

I was trying so hard to keep my grin under control but it wasn't fully working. "Anything for you, Mistress."

"Good. Post the goddamned story, Ryan."

That made me smile with the thought that this was why life was already better with her as my Mistress in full. She didn't realize it yet, but I was a little more disheartened when I didn't do something like write. It was something that made me feel good when it made other people so happy sometimes. So far, she had taken my mind off the absence of it, but the truth was I did miss it. I got my phone and opened the page to where the story was already put in and edited and everything. After I'd decided to go with the route of posting it as one of my free stories, I'd had it ready.

I just had to press the last option to submit it. I did it while she watched and her eyes lightened with approval. "Good boy toy. Now, let's get you used to the idea that you're staying here with me from now on." I sat my phone down and lifted when she thrust her fingers in my mouth. "And this time there's no way out." Just the words from her mouth were enough to make me moan in a surge of bliss, when it felt right and perfect. "So when I say that you're going to spend the next week getting fucked while you wear your cage and that you're going to serve me every time I feel like I want to feel your mouth or fingers, then that's what's going to happen. I want sex and need to be the first thing you think of when waking and the last thing on your mind at night as my slave."

I whimpered eagerly with the thought and nuzzled her in a silent plea for her mercy so that she chuckled, kneeling over me so that she could yank my head back, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. "And this time, baby, there truly isn't anything you can do about it except to submit and obey me."

I closed my eyes and nodded with the thought, This is going to hurt.

It wasn't an upset thought in any capacity. Once again, it was merely peaceful.

Although, it was later that I would have a thought to make me wake up in a slight panic. I lay still, of course, when Mistress was sleeping beside me, her palm resting contentedly between my legs. In addition to my collar, I wore cuffs and a harness beneath my shirt, along with the cage and anal toy she told me I could become quite used to sleeping in and wearing whenever she wanted me to. As if that wasn't bad enough, she'd gone on to show me how this was another anal toy that she'd gotten just for me, one that vibrated.

"Just so my little boy toy can feel all the more denied. It's okay, baby. I know you need it to feel controlled enough. That's why you had to beg me for slavery, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mistress."

Jesus. I was still in a little bit of shock over it, despite the fact that I'd already accepted it for what it was months ago. I think that's the real reason why I woke up, when my mind was racing in giddy exhilaration, when it didn't really want to sleep. It wanted to shift in discomfort instead, enjoying the shocked sensation of holding her close while I suffered through the night for her pleasure, when she liked me submissive and needy.

But it was then that I had the stray thought, in the midst of a lot of others, and that was the realization of the ending I had given the story I'd written, the story I'd posted, the one that she could read.

Oh, dear.

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So many different things I could compare my goddess and Mistress to. Irene Adler, the woman. Rhiannon the goddess. Catherine Tremell, the sexy killer from Basic Instinct. Even after I've now broken and begged the muses to at least guide my pen to do her justice, it doesn't feel like I should ever be able to do so.

All my life I had been a slave to anxiety, to timidity, to the discomfort in my own desires. And then I met her. She was the sun that blinded my world until everything became confused. Instead of being fucked up for the desires I had, I was her good boy all of a sudden. Instead of wondering at every turn what was wrong with me, I bowed to obey and never wondered at all. Of course that action was the correct one. My Mistress had told me to do it.

People wonder if it hurts, to be held in denial in a cage and to take her fucking me in humiliation and it makes me want to laugh. Because I don't think they'll understand the answer sometimes. The truth? Of course it hurts. It's torture.

And it's exquisite.

There's nothing like the emptiness of being used with no release, while steel bars punish me for the pleasure it gives me. It makes my vision blur with this haze and I've gotten used to thinking of sex in terms of being fucked instead of giving it. The rare times she does permit me the act of giving her cock is when I'm locked in my cage and forced to use a strap-on. Delightfully, the one for her is far more pleasant and gentle than the one for me.

But mostly, Mistress prefers my tongue. So that's what I prefer. I've learned these things in thinking of myself as her slave, that her desires are what I desire when that is how it should be.

I think my favorite part of it all is how, in some ways, my life is in sexual overdrive. I wake up before she does and bring her awake by eating her perfect pussy. She likes to have me shower with her when our routines permit it and afterwards I stroke her down and massage her with the towel. Some days she wants to be teased a little as she says it wakes her up when she still feels sleepy. And she'll have me stroke her breasts, then kiss and suck her nipples once they feel sensitive, once they're hardened with her arousal and I'm dying to taste any part of her body.

And yet, for all of that, it's never been less about the sex. When I get on my knees to eat her out, it feels more about the fact that I'm on my knees. I'm more free than ever there and it's her cage that makes it that way.

For her part, well, let's just say that she made it quite clear that she has no intention of letting me leave her chains. If she hadn't already made it clear, of course, then last night was something quite akin to her welding her collar around my neck.

She had spent the night strapping me, as a rare occurrence. Mistress was not often prone to violent forms of play. She enjoyed a flogger for instance and she was quite adept with something like the cane. She just didn't prefer that latter, when she said it didn't feel quite as exciting in her hand.

For my part? I had turned acceptant of being whatever she needed and whenever she needed it of me. If she wished to have me as her denied little slut for a month, then that's what I was to her. It wasn't always easy, though.

I had to breathe through her strap lashes when I wasn't accustomed to it, but I had already discovered a kind of almost magical influence of subspace once I bowed to being her slave in full. The desire to please her was such that it came with a stunning amount of resolve and willpower, a kind I would not have thought myself capable of before meeting her. I lived to please her, so if taking her strap was what she wished of me, then I needed to do it.

And Mistress never took me too far. Even if it wasn't something she chose often, she was lovingly careful to never give me more than I could take. She stroked me for encouragement when she noticed I needed it, speaking in a gentle voice, and she went the perfect amount with her session. Which was right up until I was shivering in a headspace so low that it was intoxicating. I lived in subspace these days, but there was nothing like the depth she could take me to.

She strapped me until I was more far gone than I'd ever been, right on the ledge of "almost too much". "Poor little plaything," she said softly. I watched her set the strap to the side, so far in subservience that I wondered if she needed more, if she'd had her fill. It was always a concern of mine in those moments, that I might have tapped out before she was satisfied when I knew how very careful she was with me. "How much you're suffering."

She emphasized the point with a slap to my thigh, where a particularly rough mark was, and I whimpered behind my gag. She'd left me without my blindfold, but she enjoyed using a bit gag with a makeshift bridle after the month I'd spent with her. I flexed my hands nervously where they were cuffed above my head, and she smiled.

"I know. That was mean but I needed you in a nice headspace for this next part or you'd work yourself up over it."

It was definitely true that I was calmer in this state and it made me smile that she so easily knew that. She smiled back before she went to the side again and came back.

With my engagement ring. My eyes went wide when she reached around my neck to release the clasp of the necklace that held my cock cage key. I made a low sound in my throat, of excitement even though I was quite well numbed by her session, and Mistress chuckled.

"No, no, little plaything. You don't need to worry about when or where or any of the rest. For right now, the only thing that concerns you is that I think I'll keep you. I suggest you don't touch this necklace at all, with what it has on it." I shifted in my bondage when she settled it around my neck. "The key to your cock and the key to my heart? Those are two things that would make me rather displeased if my filthy little slave thought to touch what wasn't his."

She cupped a palm between my legs, stroking the cage that held me so effectively well behaved in her hands. Just the shifting of the weight was enough to make me whimper and nod my agreement in fear and ecstasy. Her engagement ring.

She laughed outright when she saw the realization sink in. "Ah, ah. Let's get a few things clear. You are not to let that confuse you in how our dynamic works, understood? I'll take it back until you can handle it if I think it's causing problems. Just because I said you had my heart does not mean you should mistake me for some schoolgirl who cannot take it back."

I nodded eagerly, eyes wide with the thought of being her husband. She smiled and stroked my hair, caressing a palm down my strap marks to soothe me. "Such a good little plaything."

I think it was one of my favorite aspects of Mistress, even then, how even those large steps of a relationship were something for her to take at her leisure in a matter of fact way. It was her will and so that's how it was. When she'd collared me, for instance, she had not wished for an eventful moment or a kind of ritual. She had merely placed the collar on my neck and locked it. And that was that.

She kissed me over my bit gag, petting me and occasionally touching the engagement ring around my neck where it rested right beside the cage key.

And that was that.

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Sonya

My desire to have Courtney play every now and again was the best thing I had been able to come up with at the moment. I think it would have worked rather well too, if I'd ever needed to use it. But then, when his story came out, I'd been given cause to realize an alternative.

Perhaps I didn't need her to watch me for my bullshit. My concern had been that our relationship would stop any kind of procession at all when I did not speak of things easily and he would not criticize a thing I did.

But I had overlooked a rather large quality of my little boy toy, which was how he could write it if he couldn't speak it.

It really did help a Domme out when a submissive let them know, in such lovely description, what they hoped for. It was the kind of thing to make a girl smile at an engagement ring box, for instance. It was too soon for it, but I had gotten it for him anyway.

And the beautiful thing was that all the control was mine. The fear merely fell away from me with the knowledge that whenever I liked, I could give him a pretty new ring to wear around his neck, to mark him as mine. I kept it in my night stand for the time being when having a slave meant having someone who wouldn't so much as look where he hadn't been explicitly told, when it truly did make some things so very easy.

I closed it back in the drawer and set the Arctic Fox stuffed animal back on the stand after cuddling him a moment, smiling.

Every last one of my dates had been thwarted from the start and I never set out to own a slave. And back when I was a teenager, I used to say that I refused, flatly and stubbornly, to ever get married when it so rarely ever worked.

Maybe I was right. I can't tell you. And I'd love to ask you if you'd like to hear how the engagement went, but I can't do that either. Because I don't know.

You know what, though? Maybe it's more fun that way. When it comes to Ryan, I have so much control that it makes it rather easy to say, Let's find out.

Oh, but the owning a slave part and how we found our way to a routine that was strict enough to satisfy my little plaything? Well, perhaps that's a part of things that would better be told in the words of one Kara Rhys.

For that moment, let us just say that after I put up his engagement ring, I was looking at pony play reins thoughtfully, smiling with the thought of bringing my slave to heel in a disciplinary way that he had been so kind to write out for me. He had done so in such lovely detail as well, with all kinds of excellent ideas for perfect tortures, ones with no pain at all in the methods...