Tasha, My Teenage Mistress Ch. 02

Tasha, My Teenage Mistress Chapter 02

Managing to get out of the house unseen, I walked the two miles home in a bewildered fog. Confused at what had happened over the last few hours, not quite believing it did happen, but it had, all of it, I only had to breath through my nose to still smell Mistress Tasha's funky anus aroma that is now ingrained on my nose.

Strangely when I caught the whiff of her teenage anus again, I could not help but feel a stirring inside my pants, then seconds later, a painful sharp stabbing down there. Terrified at what was going on, I run to a secluded side road and yank my pants down to look. How could I have forgotten that Mistress Tasha had locked this small metal thing over my cock a short while ago? In my panic, the pain suddenly vanished, so with that, I rush home so I can better examine this device and try to get it off.

Half an hour later, I am finally back home with a cold lager in hand whilst I shine a table lamp over my stainless steel encased cock to get a better look. "THAT BITCH!" I shout out to myself. After fifteen minutes of looking and prodding and not seeing an easy way out, I realise I am slightly drunk and worn out, so I go to bed with plans to investigate this metal device in the morning.

Hours later, I am awoken in a start, not by the alarm clock; NO! Once again, there is an agonising stinging sharp pain between my legs and an ache so bad it radiates up my body. Throwing the covers off me, I see my balls look swollen and "WFTUCKKKKK!" I shout out, my balls are dark purple???????? That bitch is gonna make me lose my balls. Once again, I realise the sharp pain has vanished in my panic, but the ache is still there.

OMG! this is insane; I need to get this thing off of me soon, but how do I do that, I think to myself. Getting out a mirror and squatting over it, I see a small hole that looks like it might be the keyhole, but it does not look like a standard keyhole, more like one of those round ones that bicycle locks use. There is no way I can pick that; it's impossible; besides, the location of it that is out of direct sight would make it even harder to try. I consider trying to cut it off with an angle grinder, but I soon give up on that idea when I think about how one slip would mean losing my cock and balls, plus the reality that this metal cage does not have a single easy cutting point that could release me, it's clipped together in a way that makes it look like one solid piece and no weak spot. Resigned to the reality that this metal cage is not coming off until Tasha decides, I go and have a shower to sort my head out.

After getting freshened up, I do not know what to do with myself for the day, anxious about the situation I am in, but have no idea what their plan is; so, I just sit around all day and night watching TV expecting a call at any moment. That moment never comes. Hours later, I go to bed on Sunday night, thinking the girls were just having fun with me and that they will tell me it was all a big joke before taking this cage off.

Monday morning arrives, thankfully it's a Bank holiday, so it means the day off work, so not panicking about going to work like this. I started to get used to the ache from my dark purple balls, but that stinging pain at first that indicates I have swollen is still hellish. I realised the night before when getting horny that it only hurts when I swell. I also found out that cold water or ice between my legs make the pain stop sooner. "Finally", I think to myself, those plastic ice chiller blocks I bought years ago and never used will now come in use. Searching through my cupboards in search of those freezer blocks, I hear my phone ringing. Being distracted, I never wondered who would be calling me, but the second I said hello and heard the voice, my stomach dropped like a stone while my face burns red with shame.

"Well, well, sissy boy Timmy," I hear her say. Have you missed your new Mistress then?

Lost for words, I do not know what to say or do, then after a few seconds pause that feels like a week, I say in a low and pathetic voice like I am worried the neighbours will hear, I say "Yes Mistress Tash."

"So, sissy boy, how have you enjoyed your time without me? What have you been doing with your free time?"

On edge and nervous again at finally speaking to her, I mumble a dull response and tell her how I have sat around watching TV mostly. Hearing myself speak, I realise how boring my life really is, even if I enjoy TV and movies and do little else socially. Hearing Miss Tasha laugh and give out an extended groan in a tone that shouted, "SHE IS MOCKING YOU LOSER!" It is like she could read my own thoughts at how sad my boring life really was.

"Luckily for you, sissy boy! Those boring, dull non-productive days are over for you. I am here to make you useful, and useful you will be; Mark my words you will be."

Standing here like a dummy sweating with shame, I can only manage to mumble a "YES Mistress, thank you, Mistress."

"Okay, Sissy!" she says in a more direct business-like manner. "Tomorrow, I expect you to be at my house at 7 am on the dot to pick me up. You do not want to be late; lateness is not tolerated in my family."

"I will be texting you my address after this call, Bye Sissy boi!"

With that, the phone goes dead before I get the chance to say, "BUT what about my work????" A few seconds later, my phone beeps to say I have the text. Reading the text, I see the address is in a very affluent area where houses do not sell for less than £3 million minimum, unlike my ex-council house I paid £50,000 for and am still paying for 15 years later. For some strange reason, I now feel more nervous than ever to know she is likely from a wealthy family. Scrolling down the text, I am once again amazed at Miss Tasha's supposed mind-reading skills because there in plain text, it says,

"You will be taking an undisclosed amount of time off. You are a self-employed gardener, so you will just have to contact all your customers to tell them that you can not make it and that you can not say when you will next be available," 7 am SHARP! See you tomorrow."

For the next few hours, I spend calling, emailing, and texting customers with an apology about not being able to make it. I make up a bogus excuse about a family matter. Most of them are understanding. After the last customer is contacted, I spend the rest of the evening worrying about what tomorrow will bring.