Shy Guys Make Good Boys Pt. 02

"Good boy."

"Thank you, Mistress." I whispered it between another kiss.

It felt like the perfect timing when she pulled away and reinstated her distance, when her eyes turned to what I recognized as the Dominatrix who wanted to press me to my darkest edges. "Come on, little boy toy. Let's get started then. My guess is that you won't like this at first, but I could be wrong."

That was the kind of thing to make me thrilled now that I'd committed myself to this.

She led me to her bedroom that time, instead of that wide open other room, and had me kneel on the floor by her bed. At first the nerves didn't fully sink in. It was more a sense of the surreal, but then she came back to me with the cuffs and the blindfold. And I swallowed at the difference in her usual preferences, when I associated the blindfold with her more intense desires. She hadn't been lying that first time when she said she usually preferred her male submissives left free to sight.

Once again, my adrenaline started to hammer my pulse up and my mind went down, in a slow, inevitable spiral. The leather of the cuffs felt like a studded embrace when she tightened them and chained them together behind me. My world narrowed down to a touch of fear and the feel of her.

But then I truly turned frightened with the next part. She reached down between my legs and I jumped to the sound of the cage's lock clicking open, shivering in confusion so that she laughed. "How off putting, isn't it? Once you get so used to the comfort of the cage. Don't worry, you can always have it back, baby. Wait here for me for a moment."

I shifted in the bondage, enjoying it, free to be hard without the steel confines and unsure how to process that. It was a thought to make me shiver, when I hadn't been quite aware of how accustomed to her cage I had become. It felt like a large piece to that background puzzle and it confused me in no small way. I had a stray thought that maybe this was part of why she had me wait to kneel and then that I was conditioned far deeper than even I really thought.

Because I missed my cage. She was right to call it every word she had ever used. Comforting, cradling. One time she'd said, "Just think of it as my control you can always wear under your clothes."

"How pretty you look when you kneel for me." I lifted my face to the sound of her voice and leaned into her caress. My struggle against the cuffs was an instant of forgetting that I was restrained for just a moment, one that always seemed to happen somehow when she first touched me.

Of course I rarely seemed to forget a second time that I wasn't permitted to touch a goddess for the moment. "I'm glad, Mistress."

I had the sensation of standing on the last ledge over that endless darkness. The others had felt like steps but this one felt like something that I wouldn't easily get back up from. And I wasn't entirely certain what was in that pit. I did know that the darkness wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It just was. It came with fear because it came with mystery, but sometimes mystery was romance. Darkness could hide monsters and evil, but it could also hide the kiss of a love or the embrace of pleasure when sometimes the light's illumination could make one blush.

All I knew for the moment was there was an energy to the start of this, an undercurrent that was cumulative of every past scene, of every moment that most fascinated and confused me at once. "Jesus, Ryan."

Whatever she heard in my voice aroused her and I could tell now by just the way her breath changed, something that made me smile. Somewhere along the line I had become sensitive to my small statured goddess. I turned my head how she guided me with a hand in my hair, nuzzling along her thigh, delighting to how soft she felt, shifting with her touch until...

I moaned with the feel of the strap-on cock she wore, then whimpered. She knew everything that most scared me and somehow this felt different than it did to accept her fucking my face with a toy. Once upon a time, that would have mattered.

It still made me shift, but I didn't particularly want to struggle against her defeating me. "Open up, little boy toy."

I opened, throbbing hard without a cage and that confused me, especially when she chuckled above me and I realized why when she nudged my mouth with the toy. I had to open wider to take her. All that training she'd done with her toys had been effective, true, but I couldn't keep from a moment of adjusting to this one. She tsked over me with amusement in her voice when I gagged for a moment. "You can do better than that, when we both know you're my little cock and cum slut now." Jesus. I moaned around the toy and forced myself forward, when somehow she'd done what she'd promised and given me a new definition for being a good boy.

Good boys were slutty little playthings. I took her, opening up and pressing forward slowly but surely when she was kind enough to let me have a moment to get used to it. Once her kindness ended, I knew she'd take over, so I took it for all I could have, swallowing my way down the toy to get past the gag reflex. "That's it." Her voice was sweet encouragement and I purred as best I could with the feel of her hand in my hair. "Good boy. Now it's my turn to enjoy."

I braced myself and sure enough, she took over with a ferocity that made me burn. I couldn't keep from choking one more time a few of her thrusts in and then yelped happily when she pulled away to slap my face, my mouth still wide open. She laughed above me and filled me up again while I throbbed, and then she moaned with a thrust forward, taking the pleasure that the strap-on gave her. It was game over from there, when I realized that she was taking her pleasure.

See, in some ways, some of the things she did felt more for my benefit than hers and they were often the more degrading parts, but I loved it when it was for her. I opened wide and accepted, so close to falling off whatever that ledge was, forgetting my own desire for hers because that's how I needed it. That was the truth of a lot of that puzzle.

I felt all the more like a plaything, a toy for her to use. She was sighing out with every thrust into my face and she pulled away now and again just to feel the pleasure of giving me a full thrust of the toy. "It's so good, baby. Wait. I don't want to cum like this just yet. Sometime later, but this time I have something else in mind."

I gasped for air when she pulled away, realizing how badly I needed it. "Yes, Mistress," I managed to finally reply. "Anything."

She helped me stand and it was her next command that made me realize how much I meant that one word. "Good little plaything. Come here and crawl up on the bed for me."

Because it made my heart race. I knew where this was going and there was no denial about it. It was obvious in how she positioned me, pressing me forward after she helped me on the bed, so that I fell with my face down. She grasped the cuffs at my back just to rattle them behind me, just to excite me and it worked. I was impossibly hard with fear and need.

"Easy, baby." I whimpered, shaking when she used the lubricant in the same way she always did. "Don't fight me and be a good boy toy."

"Yes, Mistress." I wanted to, don't get me wrong. I wanted to so bad, to keep her from fingering my ass so gently, pressing lubricant inside of me, but some horrific, dark part of me wouldn't let me, not even kind of. It turned out that mind really did rule over matter in some cases.

It also turned out that my mind was hers. I arched with a soft keen when she pressed the head of the strap-on to my entrance, vaguely aware that I was harder than I'd ever been in my life. I couldn't think past the suffocating subspace and I couldn't find my way back to some salvation.

That's when it started to sink in. That's when the ledge started to fall away in a strange feeling of vertigo. She pressed inside of me with her own soft whimpers of eager excitement and it occurred to me that I had always hated Venus in Furs, beyond anything.

But at least Severin had a way out from Wanda, even if it was a way that made me angry, and now I knew that I didn't. Do you want to know the truth of it? If Wanda would have been more secure in her desires of domination and if she'd been a little kinder about satisfying his masochism, she'd have been dangerous. Because he never would have escaped.

"Mistress. Please. I-"

She shushed me in the gentlest tone and I whimpered, accepting and unsure where my desire ended anymore and where hers began. The sensation of taking her toy was much like what I'd grown used to from her playing with me like this, with plugs. It was this growing painful pressure that wasn't really pain, not when she was so careful. It was this addicting sensation of being forced wide, and it was the sensation of being raped... except it was far from rape. "Good boy. How brave you're being for me. God, it's so good too." That last was a breathless purr of lust that made me quake. She curled a hand at my waist and the other still held my cuffs. I was vaguely aware of flexing my hands wide in some desperate gesture.

"God, please!" That last was a burst that made her laugh above me after she abruptly shoved deep.

"Please, what? Please, more? I'd love to, baby."

And she worked the toy back out before she shoved deep again before I could answer. My skin had the sensation of white heat more intense than her denial training and I couldn't stop shaking, especially when a cold sweat broke over my shoulders. The terrifying part was that I'm not even sure whether my body truly enjoyed the sensation or if I just loved how much I hated it so much that it overrode everything and turned my world into too much blind frenzy to separate any of the sensations anymore.

I only knew that once she started working me over in a rough rhythm, I definitely wasn't going to be able to tell. I was stretched and opened, more than she'd done it yet, except now she was fucking me instead of just working a toy and it made a world of difference. It made my moans and cries swirl together. In between them I was aware of begging, but the pleas that started in my mind changed by the time they reached my tongue somehow. "Please, harder. Please, please, more, please, I-"

"I'm glad you like this, baby. You're going to get off like this a lot. Tomorrow night, I'm going to show you how it feels with your cock cage, as well." That made me grit my teeth and whimper with the mere thought of the torture it would be, when I was so hard that it already hurt. "This time, I thought I'd be nice about it for your introduction, but don't make me regret it." She'd slowed her pace to make sure I could understand. "You aren't going to fuss when I do start with the cage. And right now, you're going to wait for my permission before you cum in my thong again. And even after that, I want to hear you moan for me with how much you're a slut for your cum now, understood?"

She rattled the cuffs almost viciously and my voice was raw when I whimpered, "Yes, Mistress."

"Good boy toy." She went back to fucking me while I sank down in the knowledge that I was likely going to spend a lot more time being fucked than I would ever be allowed to do it. And that was something I knew oh, so well.

I already knew it from how little she actually wished for sex and how much more she wanted control. The collar on my throat felt so tight all of a sudden with that sensation of falling into a dark place. Mistress' rhythm turned brutal and I arched, wishing the action was to try to escape in some way when this was painful and she promised me more pain with it later.

But her breaths over me were coming shorter with her excitement and arousal, while mine were coming shorter with my efforts to hold back orgasm even if she wasn't touching me. It was enough that the rock of my hips backward ensured my cock brushed against her bedspread every now and again... and then I cried out with the realization that I was fucking back against her like a toy whore.

"Please, please, please, please..." I couldn't seem to remember another word.

She answered with a sharp cry of her release, a sound that seemed shocked that she should abruptly find so much pleasure, that she should cum that hard off of my degradation. But she followed it up with a snarl so fast that I had an image of her slamming that pleasure back with iron control, reaching around me to stroke my cock with her thong, the lace too much for me to hold back from when it felt so damned good after what she'd done.

Thank God she snapped out the magic words for me. "Cum for me, slutty little plaything. Show me how much you love it." I barely even heard the last part when my world seemed to shudder and then went white behind the blindfold. I couldn't even cry out, but I know I hissed out an animal sound and snapped my teeth in her bedspread, biting in an action that was pure self preservation, when I thought I might not keep my sanity if I didn't do something. She was laughing above me and I was shaking and then-

I went still. And this time there wasn't any getting back from that subspace, not fully. There would always be some tether, some hold in my mind, when I felt broken by the knowledge of that one moment when I hadn't been trying to arch away from her. Peace. Calm. It was this stillness, this satisfaction, the wake after a storm.

One hell of a storm. One hell of a wake.

Mistress stroked me down my back, a soft and tender motion of reward. "Good boy toy. That was intense. Still with me?"

"Yes, Mistress." It made me give a tentative laugh, with the thought that I had almost passed out from her. I shifted when she withdrew the strap-on, exhaling in humiliation when it made me feel gaped and used, filthy and desecrated in the best way.

"Such a content little plaything when you've been used. I like to think of training you so well, baby, when you're so submissive, when you bow so well. I don't even think you realize some of your reactions now, like how you immediately look down in respect every time I touch your cage key. You look like you're dying to be at my knees, no matter where we are." I lifted to her hand's stroking, thinking she was correct that I probably didn't even think of all those innately subservient behaviors, but that I believed her without a shadow of doubt.

I believed her, you see, because I knew what I was to her now. I knew, even if she didn't see me that way. I knew, even if she might not realize what I was and how I thought. I thought it likely that she wouldn't, but also hoped that didn't.

"It's gorgeous," she breathed. "Every single time it makes me burn to have you back in my collar, to tease you in some way, any way. It drives me insane sometimes, baby, just thinking of the fact that you're wearing my cage, that you give me the key before every date. It drives me crazier that you've never tested boundaries. You realize that, little plaything? I told you a single time that I hated bratty behavior and, even though I've confessed to being a brat when I played, you have never mentioned it or displayed anything less than the most respectful and playful mischief. And even then you look at me with this gorgeous fear. You're so submissive that you won't even press my rules and it makes me feel... It almost hurts how bad I want to see you bow and lick my pussy. One time I want to video the look on your face when you do it so I can show you how you look. You close your eyes and lift your hands like you're worshiping, like my perfect little slut.

"And I want to train you better so badly, until you need to serve, until you thank me when I fuck your ass while you wear your cock cage because you'll know that you need it to feel satisfied." She lifted me when I was still a little out of it, pulling me up and back so that I was kneeling down while she pressed against my back, holding me close while she whispered the last in my ear. "You already become so confused without it and see the cage as comforting. Just think of it. When it tortures you while I tease you, it will make you so thrilled and happy, baby. You'll love showing how good you can be by drinking your own cum, even though I know you hate the taste."

"Yes, Mistress." It wasn't quite a broken sound, when I wasn't quite in what I would call a broken state. You see, the word "broken" has always implied something that needs to be fixed. I didn't need to be fixed because I didn't want to be.

Because I'd never felt so peaceful in my life. There was nothing to fix when being "broken" made me better.

"God, I'm horny again just thinking about it. Just your voice gets to me. Let's hear you in a different way, however. Open up."

I obeyed, taking her thong in my mouth and cringing to the strange taste of semen, but I remembered how I was supposed to behave quite well. And I did, moaning for her, nice and slutty like she wanted. It turned me on to do it when I knew she was hoping for a twisted conditioning out of it. People associated their own sexual sounds with feelings of pleasure already, just by nature, but Mistress knew how delightfully conflicted and confused I was about drinking my own cum.

So she made me more conflicted in the best and most humiliating way.

"Listen to you." Her voice was a taunt, mocking when I was just obeying her, unfair in her condescension and hot because it was. "You love the way you taste, don't you, baby?"

"Mhmm." I made sure it was loud and excited just like she wanted, flushing with the indignity of it, with how mortified it made me feel just to do it. She tugged off my blindfold so that I could finally see her and I bowed my head as soon as I saw her eyes, with how victorious and proud she looked. It made me moan with dread and excitement all in one.

I was in the darkest place I'd ever been in my life, my headspace so suffocated and I was frightened of... how much I wasn't really as frightened as I should have been.

Because the part of my mind that knew I should have been afraid couldn't find its way back to a loud enough voice. It was a dangerous thing, in some way, at least when I considered it later. Subspace came with a great deal of trust required when it started, when it was frightening how far you might go to please another person.

And if you kept playing, it was just as frightening to consider that you might find a point where you didn't want to stop bowing at all.

It was the kind of thing that could have easily been darker than it was, though. It was true that I was more subdued than ever when she took me to her bathroom, when I still couldn't think through the satiated mental haze. I lay down in her bathtub and cradled her against me at her command, smiling when she felt so small against me, when it felt right to hold her like that. That time, she bathed me instead of the other way around, a touch of caretaking dominance where she watched me, speaking to me softly. Except, where she had spoken with me after scenes before in an attempt to pull me up from my headspace, it was clearly different this time. She kept me still with a touch of command in her voice. It was fascinating how the intention to stay in control changed her in such small ways and how those small ways were everything to me.

When she had me shift for instance to start with shaving me, stroking the razor up my leg while I blushed just for a moment, and the caretaker touch had a strict undercurrent. It wasn't even a specifically identifiable idea or feature, but something made up of all that was her. It was the way she touched my knee to make me spread for the razor, maybe, or the way her eyes held mine with an expression that quelled any questioning I may have had before it reached my mind.

Or, in another smallest moment afterwards, it was when she softly asked, "Would you like to play chess with me tonight, Ryan?"