The Goddess and the Slave

Spanakopita. A difficult Greek dessert to craft, but here it was sitting on her plate after a perfectly roasted pork sage ragu. The Goddess inspected the pastry, checking every corner for imperfections. She had already decided to relieve the slave if any faults came up tonight. He stood beside the table waiting for her next command or reprimand. She took her fork and split a corner off the pastry, taking satisfaction on how the layers had a crunch but gave away to the slightest pressure. She took a bite.

Perfect.

"Slave," she had and would never refer to him by name. She had stripped any identity from him during the three years of service to her. "I desire devotion during my dessert."

The slave knew what the command meant and knelt and crawled beneath the table and to her seat. Keeping his hands behind his back he inched forward awaiting her open legs. They split, revealing her panties. Familiar with such demands, the slave pressed his face between her soft thighs and began licking the panties. The Goddess would let him know if she wanted him to slip his tongue beyond them. But for now, the barrier remained.

The slave performed cunnilingus; he did not eat her out. Such a lady required tact that the slave had to learn quickly. Harsh corporal punishments were met with disobedience, hesitation, and ineptitude. Free thinking was quickly beaten out of the slave. Now the only beating he received was for the Goddess's cruel entertainment.

The Goddess lived up to her name, the fanciest of dresses never looked good enough for her. She was draped in a gold lined white dress that had an isometric cut that she had draped between the legs for the slave's access. The face of the dress held designs of gold, straight lines that spread at her generous cleavage, with a half see through cover connecting to a collar of rings where the lines collapsed.

Parted raven hair straighter than a ruler fell down her back, looking deserving of a crown. Her face was one that could cripple anyone like a look, strong and high cheekbones, she had a face of dominance. A sexy librarian to be dreamt of, an English teacher with cleavage that made every boy hide an erection. Both couldn't compare to the seductive power she wielded.

The Goddess savored the dessert, and the tongue on her panties. Beyond physical and carnal pleasures, psychology was her favorite. Sex was simply a physical feeling, a tongue on her or dick slamming in and out. What truly aroused and satisfied her was the dynamic. She was denying the simple pleasure of even having contact with her. Having to please her from behind a fabric block. She loved seeing desperate men and women beg for her, she found chastity the easiest way to control simple minded individuals was through their genitals. They sought out pleasure, without it they were left to focus on how to release it, the key, and with her ownership of it, her. She owned more than this slave's cock; she owned his mind.

They both wondered where the Goddess's influence ended and the slave began. Truly, the Goddess didn't want to completely own the slave, she wanted some part of him, some tiny subdued part to be a scared boy, trapped by her influence infecting his life. But she knew that the odds were not in the slaves favor for the ownership of his soul.

The Goddess reminisced about the taming practices she had tried. Not just this slave, the ones before him. The first one she truly tried to enslave, he was an incredible fuck and she wanted to own it. Own him. She seduced him into chastity, and while he was opposed to it, months without release led to the best orgasm he had ever had. Still, he feared the cage, and the taint of what he was once able to do ruined the image for her. What she wanted was perfection.

The present slave continued his worship, the hardwood floor hurt his knees, but it added to pleasure on his end. If he wasn't a masochist before, he was now.

She had employed many practices to form and reinforce fetishes. Showing her approval when they were able to muster up the courage to bow to her whims. A gorgeous girl, with tits rivaling her own and a libido to match spent much time in her care. She did not take at all to chastity, she was used to being fucked multiple times a day, by multiple dicks and pussies. She would tear at the belt and the lock, beg and cry to be let out. Oh, the things the slave girl did to make the Goddess happy, hoping that with each smile, each orgasm, each new kink she took on maybe, maybe her Goddess would let her cum.

The Goddess saw little reason to ever give a slave what they wanted.

She was once grossed out by eating ass, she did it every day hoping her Goddess would unlock her. While her most sexually devoted slave, it was all selfish. She would have done for anyone who held the key, the Goddess wanted to be worshiped, not the key. When the Goddess let this slave go, she watched as the slave invited dozens of people to fuck her. At the end of the night, she was covered in more cum than the Goddess had ever seen on a person. The hunger that had grown under her care had broken loose, but there was no satisfying it. She still visits the slave, bringing friends and bulls to fuck her more.

Nearly finished with the dessert, the Goddess thought about her previous project. She had all but perfected the training practice. Luring the boy into her care, impressing kinks and fetishes upon the slave. Keeping them in chastity, no monthly milking or even anal orgasm for the whole two years he was in her care. To both of them, the slave's penis did not exist. The slave had taken well to the training, and they truly worshiped the Goddess, not the key. She had dismissed him because of the final step. She wanted to give the slave one last choice, one last chance to escape her, one last chance to give in completely. The choice had been between receiving the key, or the first and only chance to fuck her. Of course, the slave chose to fuck her. The Goddess had deemed this a mistake, reminded of the first slave and how the dynamic was tainted by the slave entering her. When she released him shortly after the slave sought out another owner, she had created a hole in him only she could fill and the slave needed something to patch him up.

Now finished, the Goddess watched her current slave worship her. She was close to an orgasm and could better let it overtake her now that the focus was solely on the slave's task. The slave felt the Goddess's watch upon him and did their best to bring her to orgasm. She blessed him with a hand, petting the hair of the slave. A rare occurrence of affection, the Goddess studied the slave understanding that there was a chance she could lose him tonight. But she did not care about losing the slave, more so the 3 years of training. The Goddess decided she wanted this one to be permanent, dedicating an additional year from the last slave to be blessed by her presence. She wanted it to stick, and those three years she spent finding a true test that would cement the slave's life.

The idea that the time was closing in, she would have this formed slave, one she had built, under her thumb forever brought her to orgasm.

She dismissed the slave so she could prepare. It was simple, she took her favorite chair and had the slave set two stands to each side. She removed the key from their necklace and placed it on the left, and on the right, she placed a gold lock.

The slave had two options, freedom from her care, or a night of unbearable teasing, CBT, and denial that would mark his total submission. The Goddess wanted no trade, she desired no lure to entrap him. The slave would choose devotion or freedom. Self-sacrifice or selfishness.

She wondered what life would be if he chose to leave. What 3 years of being broken down would do to him if he was released. The Goddess cast those thoughts aside, she knew the choice was already made. But she still wanted to add a layer of trickery, the slave was told and often reminded he would never cum in her care. So, she would present the choice with a falsity in it. Freedom and a blowjob, against self-denial and torture. Would the slave choose the obvious benefit to themselves, or dedicate their life to something greater.

To Her.

The Goddess beckoned the slave in, and explained the choice.

To her left, she would unlock him and give him a blowjob, upon his orgasm he would be banished from the house to never return.

To her right, slavery to her, with the additional threat of torturing his mind to utterly break him into her slave forever.

The Goddess spotted something she had not seen in the slave for a while, hesitation. The slave glanced at the key, then at her soft lips. Then to golden lock. The hesitation lasted a moment, and when he looked back into her eyes, she saw him break. His arms, tucked behind him, lowered, his whole frame went limp. The muscled frame she built, she ordered, collapsed in front of her, still in the proper pose, but without any semblance of self. The once proud man he was, vanished fully.

The eyes drained yes, but held a certain muted fire. A fire of devotion to the Goddess.

He chose the lock.

Doing little to hide the satisfied grin the Goddess led the broken slave to the dungeon and placed a blindfold on his eyes. He was not allowed to view her when she was toying with him. She had decided on the gag as well, a stubby cock shape that jammed deep in the slave's throat. On the outside was a flat panel, which she tightened around his head making a perfect censor bar. She brought the slave to a cross, mid-level so he could never be above her, tying not just his wrists and ankles, but his feet, knees, thighs, waist, chest, shoulders, elbows, and his neck. She had specially commissioned straps that could safely trap the more difficult parts to properly tie someone without doing any damage. The end result was that the slave could not budge an inch. Any attempt would immediately be stopped by hard black leather. She attached ball gloves to the slave's hands; they had an additional peg that she used a vacuum attachment on, sealing the glove and trapping the fingers completely.

The slave knew better than to leave himself in an uncomfortable position, and was used to this treatment.

When the Goddess was finished with the slave, there were few parts of the sculpted slave left, most were covered in leather and latex straps. He was on the cross at a reclined angle, lowered to the ground. He was to never be above her in bondage, she paid no mind when the 6 '2 man towered above her 5'6 frame around the house. If she ever saw a hint of ego, she would happily make him carry her, become a table, or just crawl everywhere.

She removed the butt plug he wore at all times, only to replace it with a larger, and fancier one. With a press to its base the vibrations started. She had ramped up the intensity, buying more expensive plugs. This was so powerful she didn't think she would be able to have it directly on her clit. But the slave, this would stimulate the prostate and painful bruise it to match. Such a masochist, now at least.

Then came the cage. The slave often had it removed, for menial activities like cleaning, but mostly for training. This slave did not start a masochist, so the pleasuring of his cock was often involved with whipping, flogging, and other painful activities the Goddess enjoyed. A suction fleshlight had become the slave's best friend. It would suck and pump his cock on the edge, over and over again, vibrating all the while.

To do this, the Goddess needed to become familiar with the cock, she was a master of interpreting signals of all people. She spoke to cocks and pussies like a palm reader. The Goddess could watch his cock, see the tensing on the balls, the twitching of the cock head, and know when cum was bubbling up through the shaft. Some early lucky slaves were her test subjects, cumming over and over again as she familiarized herself with a harem of boys and girls. After all, this slave was the first permanent, but he would not be the last. A wicked grin crawled across her face as she saw this slave, broken and craving pleasure, watching a girl be put through the same treatment he was. Edged relentlessly to find their limits, only so that the Goddess could deny them easier and easier. She wondered how much his cock would leak hearing the screams, or if it would be shut down forever after tonight.

She decided against that, there was a reason she loved chastity, not eunuchs. The Goddess would have the slave go through what she was about to put him through nightly, unless she was busy. Then she would find some automated way to tease him just as long. She would keep his cock leaking, a constant reminder of what he gave up for her.

The silver lock clicked and she removed it, watching the cock immediately grow for her as the cage followed. Some slave's cocks needed time to recover, this one did not have that problem. It was if he was made for this, or was molded for it.

It was a magnificent cock; one she was proud to sequester away from all but herself.

The Goddess would edge him, at this time she would never need to use a fleshlight again. The slave had never been graced by her touch on his cock. That would change tonight, just not now. She removed a flogger from her racks of toys. She knew from her training just flogging the cock would make it erupt, she had never gone that far but it was a fact she knew. On her first test he swore she saw the cum bubble up the cock on the vein of the cock, the passage from balls to the freedom of orgasm. A still breeze would have brought the cum overflowing.

She brought the flogger down, the leather tips crashed against the slave's stomach. They followed her arc bringing the tips down the pelvis, spreading as they went. Like an open hand sprawled out, the many tips touched every inch of his tied down body. They impacted his penis, the first touch the slave's cock had in months that wasn't the cold steel cage. They ran red marks down his body, spreading beyond, to his balls and his thighs.

The slave shuddered against his restraints, and the Goddess relished it.

She pounded the hard cock with the flogger, bringing its leather fingers down the slave's body again and again. Each time the snapping of the leather tongues sounded, crashing against the slave's chest, his thighs, and his pelvis. His cock, his poor neglected cock, savored every touch. Pulsing to the rhythm. A religious prayer to the Goddess before it.

A punishment for some, it brought true elation to the sub. While his eyes were covered, the gasps and small grunts of exertion from the Goddess were framed with a smile. He could hear the grin.

The joy of being the slave the Goddess wished for washed the slave's mind, there were no thoughts left of escape, of dominance, of orgasm. But where the mind was strong, the body was weak.

The cock, the member that had led him into this predicament, wanted release more than anything. And it was coming. The leather tongues drew down the stiff cock and it trembled. The balls tightened. His body clenched as his mind gave into her. The flogging brought out the hunger, the need for pleasure, and subdued the strength to take it, to ask for it, to want it. The slave sank and the cock rose.

It was the last thing in the Goddess's way. The beast within. The animal everyone contains. The pure lust and desire to procreate. That is what the Goddess must shackle in order to perfectly claim the slave.

The flogger hit again, and the Goddess saw the signs. The impending orgasm, the pain slut had barely lasted three minutes out of the cage before the purple balls were ready to empty. She had destroyed any hope of a normal life from this slave, a fact she was very proud of and had seen the effects of releasing such broken sluts into the wild. This slave's sexual drive was enslaved to her, hours of forcing the slave to watch porn then whipping the cock of it showed a sign of getting hard had driven the wild lust away. Then teasing him with her own body, videos or touch, brought the cock to obey only her. The edgings and denial brought the unachievable orgasm closer and closer, yet always so far away. He couldn't get his cock hard to fuck anything, much less last long enough to satisfy the person that took pity on them. But it was enough to satisfy her.

The Goddess's body inflamed, her own breathing grew faster, her heart raced. She was dripping wet, a waterfall of ecstasy from the depravity she was dishing out. The nature of the relationship requires her to flaunt orgasms in front of the slave, but there was a shared chastity between them. If she so desired, she would never touch herself or have anyone ever again, the domination was enough to satisfy her, and the submission was enough to satisfy him.

Again, she whipped the slave, cum bubbled and rose, the cock begging for that last touch, that last kiss to cum.

The slave was reduced to nothing, the mind a slave to his body, his body a slave to her, but one thing was left in her way.

"Slave, do not cum."

He was stripped to the base pillars of himself, but it was the slave inside, not her will. She needs to transform those pillars, to fill and bind them with her spirit. And to do that, the slave needed to deny the beast within. To deny the basic human urges that seems impossible to deny.

The Goddess leaned forward, and for the first time, she kissed the cock, giving the deprived penis more pleasure directly from her, the Goddess it was enslaved to worship, than it had ever received in her care. No touch or sexual act or denied milking could compare to the Goddess, the point of his whole being, the direction his rewired sex drive pointed.

The slave needed to deny himself, in the face of impossible odds, impossible pleasure, he needed to choose the pleasure of denial over the pleasure of the perfect orgasm.

The slave shook, the slave screamed into the gag, and the cock cried, but it did not cum. Only the wetness of her saliva moistened it. His willpower, her power, held the dam.

Trained to perfection. Obedient beyond possibility. Mind left with only one thing, devotion to the Goddess, the slave was stripped of humanity, stripped of bestiality.

He was perfect.

The pressure subsided and the slave's last chance was sent away. The relationship had advanced, he was hers, and the Goddess felt those fears, that resistance to intimacy disappeared.

She wasn't cruel, she understands there were some impossibilities to the human body. She stepped back and let the coolness of the room subdue the erection, along with stopping the vibrating plug. It took several minutes, time the Goddess spent playing with herself. She has never felt this much arousal in her life. Slowly, despite her soft moans and wet sounds, the cock receded. She waited more time until the slave fully returned from the ordeal. Then she stopped and stepped forward. But where the slave expected cold steel, it instead was blessed by the warmth of her.

She mounted the slave, the first man to penetrate her in years. Except it was no man that penetrated her, it was her own will, her own desire that was pumped into the cock and body beneath her. The slave was merely a passenger along for the ride of his life.

The Goddess swallowed the shaft, and the slave let out a whimpering moan. The slave would never feel pleasure again, this was something else.

Sacrifice.

The Goddess felt the warm hard shaft inside her. It practically vibrated with lust. She looked at the slave, wrapped in latex, trapped in lust and denial. Today she would pity the slave, she had spent the evening pleasuring herself watching his torment. The torture wouldn't last very long.

She pressed on the table and raised up, leaving the tip of the cock just barely kissing her entrance. The Goddess leaned back, sending the cock back slowly back into her. When her ass cheeks graced his latex thighs, she pulled away again leaving her wet lust leaking down the shiny cock. She leaned forward, placing her hands on his chest. She squeezed and clawed into the latex covered flesh eliciting even more desperate and fearful.