Chapter 10: Cuffs
Our car pulls into the car park of a modern industrial building. Mistress is driving but I am still in no restraints. Instead, I’m dressed in normal vanilla clothes. Mistress picks up a cardboard box which is on the rear seat and we make our way inside.
She presses the button of an intercom system, and a voice crackles to life. “Who is it?”
“It’s Mistress Tracy. I have an appointment with Dave at 10 AM.”
Dave appears and greets us warmly, we know him well from various BDSM events. He’s a highly skilled metal worker and has set up this engineering business specialising in manufacturing bespoke metal BDSM equipment.
A few minutes later, we’re inside the workshop. “So, before we do the measurements I’ve set up a little demonstration for you as it’s important you both fully understand what I will be making.” He points at a thick strip of metal that’s clamped in a vice. “This is an incredible metal that was developed a few years ago. Bottom line is it’s virtually impossible to cut. We use extreme heat to form and cut it when we’re making something, but heat isn’t an option when what we’ve made is wrapped around human flesh. No matter how we try to protect the skin, it would cause horrific burns. Your skin would literally be melted away.”
My heart leaps as I look at the metal strip, knowing that whatever this demonstration shows, this stuff is going to be welded onto me in a weeks time. Dave continues.
“So the only feasible option of removing the restraints will be to cut what is a pretty much uncuttable material.” He takes an industrial metal file from a drawer and runs this several times over the strip. The file screeches but when he lifts it up, the strip isn’t even marked. He then picks up a large angle grinder. “This is fitted with a special cutting disc, it’s basically the only thing that will cut it.” The angle grinder roars to life and sparks fly everywhere as the wheel contacts the strip. He works on it for around five minutes and it appears he’s getting nowhere. When he eventually puts it down, I look with horror at the strip. There’s a thin line on it, but it’s barely more than a scratch.
“I’ve actually worked out in more detail how long it will take me to remove four cuffs and a collar, around 120 hours of solid work on them and we’ll use about 200 of these discs, they wear a lot faster than the metal. The discs cost around £30 each. It will be just about possible to get the restraints off, but it’s going to be a huge job and the grinding still causes heat. No matter how carefully we do it, Craig will be burned and some of these will scar and cause permanent marks. To remove them will end up costing well over £10,000 and that’s before hospital bills to treat his burns.” he concludes.
Mistress is looking quite shocked by this revelation.
“So that’s the demo, as you can see it’s not something to be undertaken lightly, but I’m happy to do it in the knowledge that you understand the implications. You’ll also both need to sign a contract stating this. I’m going to get you a coffee in the conference room and let you talk about it for half an hour.”
It surprises me that when we’re alone in the room, Mistress seems to be having some doubts. “Those things really are going to be permanent, maybe we should just go for normal steel manacles. What are your thoughts?”
I look at her, and I have to say I’m slightly disappointed. “No Mistress, these restraints are pretty much exactly what I was thinking of. I need to know they’re permanent, that’s a big part of it for me.”
She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I rather thought you’d say that, and of course I agree. Let’s get this contract signed and get you measured up!”
I’m once again helplessly restrained, but this time on our bed. Mistress had proclaimed that I wouldn’t be bound during my final week of freedom, but when we got back from Dave’s I begged her to tie me up as I really needed it. So here I am, bound tightly with hemp rope and pulled into a strict hogtie. My mouth is stuffed with a huge ball gag making my jaw ache. I feel at home.
My measurements had taken ages. I’d been ordered to strip naked, then Dave had taken well over an hour to carefully measure virtually every part of my body. When I’d asked why this was necessary Mistress had evasively answered ‘Oh… just in case.’ Of course I know the reason though, she is without doubt planning additional restraints that can be added to the ones Dave is making right now.
I'm excited and nervous about what she might have in mind, but I'm also incredibly turned on. More restraints made from this miracle metal will add further to the knowledge that these are permanent. The more restraints there are the less likely it is that I will ever be free of them, and I welcome this.
My mind drifts to a fantasy of being fitted with calf, thigh and elbow cuffs, matching my wrist and ankle ones. In my imagination there’s a wide corset type metal belt welded around my waist too with sturdy attachment points all around it. The possibilities are virtually endless and I can feel my cock stirring at the thought.
There were three other aspects of my measurement ordeal too. The cardboard box contained my metal hood which Dave explained needed to be modified to lock onto my new collar. He then made me bite onto a large ball of what seemed like soft putty which went hard within a few minutes. When I was told to spit it out, it had formed into the exact shape of the inside of my mouth and I was informed this was the mould for my new rubber gag pad. Lastly, he spent a long time measuring my cock and balls, both in its flaccid state and fully erect. This was of course for my new purpose-built cock cage.
My Mistress has certainly taken on board everything I’d suggested in my task and as I lie there bound helplessly all I can think about is having my new restraints fitted and welded in place. I can’t wait.
My final week of freedom flies by. I’ve been talking on the phone and visiting all of my closest vanilla friends as I need to explain what will be my sudden disappearance. I tell them that Tracy and I are having problems and are going for a trial separation period. I’m going to use that opportunity to do an extended world tour, so won’t be in touch.
But all too soon the day of my fitting arrives and we’re back in the car heading to Dave‘s workshop. Mistress is silent on the drive, her eyes fixed on the road, I can sense her tension and it makes my stomach churn with nerves. This is it. The moment of truth.
In the workshop, Dave greets us warmly, but I can tell he's also anxious as he shows us what he has made. The new cuffs and collar are laid out on a table, they look heavy and incredibly solid. Next to them is the modified hood, the new rubber gag pad to go with this and an intricately made shiny metal cock cage which again looks way more solid than any other I have seen before. Then there’s the chains, and there’s lots of these in various lengths from one link up to around 3 feet, which appears is the maximum amount of freedom I will be allowed.
Mistress picks up the collar, running her fingers along the edge. "He's done a beautiful job, hasn't he, Craig?" she murmurs, more to herself than to me. I nod, my mouth too dry to speak. The physical sight of all my restraints laid out in front of me brings it home firmly; I’m about to give up my freedom for the rest of my life.
She continues. “Right, I know we didn’t agree this but I’m going to give you one final chance to change your mind. The one year until your review will start the second the last restraint has been fitted and as we agreed I will be ignoring any plea for freedom during that period. So this is your last chance to avoid at least a year of permanent bondage. Are you absolutely certain you wish to go ahead?”
I can see Dave staring at me too, it seems he also wishes to hear my response and I don’t hesitate a second to give it.
“Yes Mistress, I can categorically confirm this is what I want and that I also want you to refuse any request for freedom.” I turn to Dave. “ Please weld me into my permanent restraints.”
She sighs, her grip on the collar tightening. “Very well, slave. Let’s get started.”
He starts with the first wrist cuff. A thin layer of heat resisting material is wrapped around my wrist and then the cuff is placed around it. “It’ll feel a little tight to start with but as soon as we pull out the heat shield material, it’ll be comfortable.” he assures me. Soon sparks are flying as the cuff is welded onto me, and I feel a huge thrill as my fantasy becomes a reality.
Dave expertly works his way around my body, fitting and welding each cuff and the collar into place. My excitement grows with each one and finally the heat shielding material is removed. The cool metal feels incredible against my skin and each restraint fits like a glove.
Mistress watches as I'm transformed into her permanently bound possession. Dave finishes his work, and she steps forward, running her hands over the new restraints, admiring them. She then picks up one of the shortest pieces of chain and orders me to put my hands behind my back as this is padlocked, joining my wrists behind me. She glances at her watch. “It’s now 1:46 pm, your permanent bondage starts right now.”
“Please will you uncuff me Mistress? I’ve had enough.” I say jokingly.
“Fuck off you weasel…. Dave, it’s clearly time to fit the gag pad!”
Half an hour later, I’m being led to the car and I can’t speak or see. The gag pad feels strange. I can feel its rubbery surface filling my mouth completely, pushing my tongue down firmly. The feeding and watering tubes going through it run much deeper into my throat than the last one. The same applies with my breathing tubes which are rammed right up my nostrils and into the top of my throat to ensure my breathing ways can’t block, as there’s now no way I can breathe through my mouth.
My head is encased in the modified metal hood which is locked to my new collar, severely restricting any movement. Padded metal eye pads are locked over the eye slits removing my sight. These work well, it’s pitch black and I can’t even see a hint of light anywhere. My hands remain cuffed behind me and a short hobble chain connects my ankle cuffs so I can only take tiny steps.
And then there’s the cock cage…. I can feel it squeezing me tightly, the metal cold against my flaccid cock. Again it fits like a glove and gives absolutely no room for my penis to expand, even the slightest bit. A catheter tube pokes out of it and leads down to a colostomy bag which is strapped to my thigh. As the cage was fitted, Dave explained to Mistress the six points where e-stim connections can be made to it, but that is currently not fitted. At least for the time being; Mistress seemed keen to test it as soon as we get home.
All of these are a constant reminder of my new status as a permanently bound object. I’m guided into the backseat of the car, the chains linking my ankles and wrists rattling as I’m buckled into place. I sense movement as the car starts the journey home, transporting me like a piece of freight to my new life.
The rest of the week has been fairly boring and Mistress has stuck to her decree that I will not be bound during my last week of freedom. My hogtie on the bed had only lasted a few hours before she released me. We’re living like a vanilla couple, I have no speech restrictions and she’s told me I don’t even need to call her Mistress unless I wish to. She’s even cancelled all of her dominatrix clients for this week.
Normal people would be happy with this, but I am far from normal. I crave the restraint, the helplessness, the absolute control that my Mistress has over me. I’ve even deliberately said and done things that I know would normally incur punishment, but each time she simply smiles knowingly at my attempts to provoke her and ignores them. To be honest, I’m finding vanilla life incredibly tedious and this is making me look forward to the fitting of my permanent restraints even more. She probably knows this and it’s precisely why she’s doing it.
We’ve sat for hours talking through what was in my writing task story in huge detail. She’s found errors in it which have all been highlighted and I’ve been told there will be plenty of time for me to correct these after my new restraints are fitted. She’s assured me that she’s taken on board what I said about movement during long periods of restraint and has even ordered a new treadmill for my planned exercise routines. This hasn’t arrived yet as it’s being modified to incorporate built-in restraint points.
Our vanilla life does change for a brief return to some kink around halfway through the week though. I’m sitting reading in the living room when I hear the unmistakable click of high heels coming down our wooden stairs. I look up as she enters the room in full dominatrix mode. Black leather platform thigh boots, matching tightly laced corset over a bright red incredibly sexy latex mini dress that clings to her curves. She’s also put on the slutty make up that she knows I love.
“Wow, you look incredible Mistress, do you have a client coming?” I’m actually not sure if I want her to say yes or no, if there is a client coming, there’s a chance she’ll bind me and make me watch, which excites me. But the thought she has dressed herself purely for me excites me just as much.
“Actually, yes, but this session is going to be slightly different and I’ve laid it on primarily for you as you will be an integral part of it.” She smirks, her eyes gleaming with a wickedness that sends shivers through my body and makes my cock go instantly hard. “As you know, I went shopping this morning and have bought a few things for you. These are laid out on our bed. You will go upstairs now and get dressed, when you’re done you’ll wait patiently for me to come up.” she orders.
”Yes Mistress”. My mind is whirling as I climb the stairs to the bedroom wondering what she’s planned. When I spot the clothing neatly laid out on the bed, this becomes clearer, she’s obviously taken on board what I said about sissification in my story.
There’s a bright pink latex minidress, it has a halter neck and no sleeves but there are matching long opera gloves laid alongside it. There’s also a black leather waist cincher and the outfit is completed with sheer black hold-up seamed stockings and a pair of pink patent high heels which match the dress perfectly. These incorporate ankle straps designed to be locked on with the small paddocks laid beside them. I can feel my heart pounding as I realise she’s transforming me into her sissy plaything.
There’s also a large note. ‘Before you dress you will shave your entire body including your head hair.’ Fuck, she’s really taking this seriously… I head to the ensuite bathroom and emerge half an hour later without a hair on my body.
Along with the clothes, there’s two other things on the bed, the first is the inverted cock cage that Mistress bought me a few months ago. It’s a fiendish device, designed to push your cock back into your body and hold it there so it appears you don’t have one. I’ve worn it several times and am very familiar with the process of how it’s put on so decide this will be the first part of my sissification process.
A few minutes later i’ts fitted, the small padlock that secures the whole thing in place was left open, but no key has been left so I’m now unable to remove it. I pick up the second item, a pair of lacy girly knickers, but these have been designed specifically for a purpose. They incorporate a small pouch which as I pull them up, pushes my balls up into my bum crack, effectively hiding these too. I glance in the mirror and the effect is amazing, my cock and balls have completely disappeared.
I feel a sense of both humiliation and excitement as I finish dressing. The latex minidress hugs my body, making me feel incredibly feminine and this feeling is enhanced as I tighten the laces of the waist cincher. I pull on my stockings and step into the heels, locking the ankle straps securely with the padlocks. The opera gloves are a tight fit, but I manage to wriggle my hands into them, the latex stretching tautly over my fingers and arms.
Mistress appears at the door and I turn to face her. She's holding a wig, a long blonde one that she tosses onto the bed. "Sit down at my dressing table” she commands. Ten minutes later I’m fully made up with black eyeliner, mascara, heavily applied eyeshadow and bright red glossy lips. She then sticks long blood red false fingernails on me and finishes these with a glossy lacquer. The final part of my feminisation is the wig which Mistress carefully fits and brushes. “Go and look at yourself in the mirror” she says as she lights a cigarette.
I stand up and totter over to the full length mirror, the height of my heels causing me to wobble as I walk. I look in the mirror and can’t recognise the incredibly sexy, slutty woman staring back at me. The latex dress incorporates large false boobs which complete the image of the sissy Barbie bimbo I now am.
A wave of humiliation mixed with sexual arousal washes over me as I turn to Mistress, "Thank you, Mistress. I can’t believe the transformation, I look... fabulous."
She blows a cloud of smoke, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she pulls out her phone and snaps a couple of photos of me. "Yes, you do look absolutely delicious, my little sissy slut. Now, for the next part you are going to prepare a meal for three. A recipe and all the ingredients are laid out in the kitchen. You will serve the meal at 7 pm so you’d best get started.”
I’ve been working in the kitchen for an hour or so now. I try to sit as much as I can to prepare the meal but inevitably I’ve been on my feet for quite some time and they’re killing me from wearing these heels. As I chop the vegetables I realise that long fingernails are in themselves a form of bondage. Virtually everything you do with your hands is made infinitely more difficult by them.
It’s 6:55 when I eventually plate up the food and carry the three plates into the dining room on a tray. I am walking unsteadily, my heels click-clack on the wooden floor, and I nervously hope I don't drop anything. Mistress is already seated at the table, and I instantly recognise her guest as Fifi, the man that likes being forcefully feminised I’d seen on the TV in the dungeon.
He’s in full makeup, wearing his bum length blonde wig, and is dressed in a tight purple latex dress similar to mine with stockings and locked on high heels. But there’s a difference, he’s bound to his chair with rope, his hands pulled behind him.
I manage a smile, placing the plates down on the sideboard. “Good evening Mistress and good evening Fifi, would you like me to serve dinner now?
Fifi’s mouth is wide open with surprise as he stares at the blonde sissy slut that’s about to serve dinner, he stays silent but Mistress replies to my question. “ Yes, you may serve. You will then sit next to Fifi as she needs a little help to eat her meal.”
I nod and start to place the meals in front of them both. I must remember to refer to Fifi as a she, I’d done this naturally as part of my story but it was slightly confusing. Before I sit down, I ask if they would like to be served wine.
Mistress nods, and I fetch the bottle from the sideboard. As I pour it into three ornate crystal glasses, Fifi's eyes are fixed on me. As I finally take my seat, she breaks her silence, “You're... you're Craig, aren't you…. Mistress’s husband?
I feel a jolt of shock. I hadn't considered that Fifi might know who I am. I look to Mistress for guidance, but she's smiling, enjoying the moment. “Yes I am, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” is my simple reply. The meal progresses with stilted conversation and Mistress has nearly finished hers. Fifi and I have barely started ours as I am hampered with my long nails which make using a knife and fork very difficult and of course I’m having to feed both of us.
This is without doubt the strangest dinner party I’ve ever attended but I must admit to finding it all incredibly exciting and arousing. I’ve just served dinner to my wife dressed as a slutty Barbie, she’s sitting opposite in her latex dominatrix outfit looking absolutely stunning, and our guest is a man dressed as a sissy too, but he’s..no, she’s bound to her chair with rope. I’m envious of her as I would love to be bound to my chair too with Mistress feeding the two of us like babies.
Eventually, the meal is finished. Mistress unties Fifi from her chair and orders the two of us to clear things away and clean up the kitchen as she enjoys a cigarette. We start to chat as we’re doing our chores.
Fifi looks over at me, “So, how long have you been a sissy? Do you have a girly name?”
“Errrm this is actually the first time for me and no mistress hasn’t yet named the sissy me.”
Fifi’s eyes widen, “Oh how exciting, so you’re new to all this? I think you should be called Trixibelle….we could be sissy sisters!” she gushes, giggling profusely.
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea at all Fifi. Trixibelle it is!” It’s Mistress‘s voice and she’s just appeared in the doorway and is watching us wiping the kitchen units down. “Right then Fifi and Trixibelle, I see you’ve finished here so it’s time for our evening to progress.” Mistress’s voice is commanding, and both Fifi and I instantly stop what we’re doing and follow her into the living room. where she takes a seat on the large leather sofa. Fifi and I stand in front of her, waiting for further instruction.
“Fifi, you seem to have taken a liking to Trixibelle. I thought you might enjoy a little playtime together before I send you home. You and Trixibelle will perform for me.” Mistress’s voice is laced with a playful malice, and I can feel a shiver of excitement run down my spine. Fifi’s eyes light up, and she nods eagerly.
“But first, I want you both to dance for me, I’m sure your high heels will make this amusing. I want nice sexy dancing of course.” She selects a track from her phone and loud music starts to blare from our sound system.
A sultry, rhythmic beat fills the room. Fifi is the first to start, she moves her body seductively, her hips swaying and her fake breasts bouncing in her tight dress. I try to mimic her moves, but she's a natural at this and I’ve always been bad at dancing, even without wearing high stiletto shoes. I can hardly stand in them let alone dance.
Mistress watches us, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Trixibelle, you’re moving like a clumsy ox! Get with the rhythm, you stupid slut!" she shouts over the music.
I try to move more fluidly, swaying my hips and bouncing my fake breasts, but I can feel the awkwardness radiating from every limb. My heels are killing me, and I can barely keep my balance on the slippery hardwood floor. Mistress takes out her phone and starts filming, giggling to herself as she watches. I’m sure this video will soon be shared with her kinky friends.
After what feels like an eternity, she finally calls a halt to our dance routine. "That was pathetic, Trixibelle, but Fifi, you were actually surprisingly good. Now, let's put you both to better use. Fifi, I want you to sit on the couch, then Trixibelle will sit on your lap, facing you. She’s going to give you a nice, slow, sensual lap dance as your reward for dancing so well. This lap dance isn’t like the ones you get in clubs, here, groping and kissing is positively encouraged… in fact, I’d go as far as to say they’re mandatory.”
Fifi eagerly takes a seat on the sofa, her eyes gleaming with excitement. I position myself on her lap, feeling the latex of her dress press against my own. The music starts again and I can feel Fifi’s hands on my hips, guiding me as I begin to move, swaying to the music. I close my eyes, trying to get into the rhythm, and when I open them again, Fifi’s face is inches from mine, her eyes sparkling with lust and a hint of evil.
She leans in, her lips brushing against mine. I can taste her lipstick, a sweet, slightly sour taste that makes my stomach flutter. Her hands move from my hips to my breasts, squeezing and pinching my fake mounds through the latex.
I gasp at the suddenness of it, and she takes advantage of my open mouth to push her tongue inside. I’m now kissing a bloke and this shouldn't be pleasant as I’m not gay in the slightest. But to my surprise it is pleasant; in my mind, we’re not men anymore, whe’re two sissy sluts having a bit of fun whilst under the control of a cruel dominatrix, and that makes it okay.
Mistress watches, her eyes narrowed, her hand idly stroking her pussy. "That's it, sluts, you two look so hot, keep it up!" she murmurs, her hand now playing harder on her clit.
I can feel Fifi's hands roaming over my body, squeezing my ass, and now sliding down to my thighs, her touch is electric, and I can feel my cock buried deep with me starting to throb. It is, in effect, my sissy clit.
Mistress suddenly stands up and grabs some rope, binding Fifi and my hands behind our backs. This obviously stops any groping so all we can now do is continue kissing and rub our latex bodies against each other. This actually makes it a whole lot more exciting as I’m now bound and being forced to kiss a sissy.
Mistress watches as she continues to pleasure herself. She now has two fingers inside her and is pumping with these as she groans loudly. The sight of Fifi and I bound and kissing is clearly turning her on a lot. A few minutes later she lets out a loud gasp, her body convulsing with ecstasy as she reaches her climax. She removes her fingers from her pussy and wipes them clean on Fifi's face.
"You two have been good little sissy sluts," she purrs as she produces yet more rope.
Half an hour later Fifi and I are lying on the hard floor, our hands still bound behind us and our legs tied together at ankle, calf and thigh. Kissing has been brought to an end though as both our mouths are stuffed with big ball gags. She’s somehow managed to wiggle close to me so our bodies are touching and her eyes are locked onto mine. I can see a mischievous glint in them, and I somehow know I’ll be seeing more of her in the future. Maybe we actually will be sissy sisters when I’m in my permanent bondage, who knows.
Mistress is watching a film on Netflix, but occasionally glances down at her bound sissies and makes some degrading comment. The film seems to go on forever and when it’s finally finished, Fifi is untied and told it’s time for her to go home. I’m still bound and gagged but before she leaves, she knees down next to me and kisses me on the cheek. “See you soon, Trixi, I had fun tonight.” she whispers in my ear as if we’ve just been out on a date, before Mistress ushers her out.
Mistress unties just my legs and helps me stand before she leads me up to the bedroom. When we get there, she pushes me onto the bed and strips naked. Soon she’s in bed with me snuggling her warm naked body up to my latex clad one. She’s made no effort at all to remove any of my femininity, I’m still her cockless sissy in my blonde wig, make-up and heels. She leans in and kisses my gagged mouth and I feel the ropes holding my hands securely behind me.
“Good night Trixibelle” she says as she turns off the bedside lamp.
When we get home, I’m unloaded and with tiny steps I’m led into the house. I’m fairly sure we’re in the sitting room, but the whole experience is disorientating and we could be in any of the ground floor rooms. Mistress takes me to a chair, guides me to sit, and I am then alone for around ten minutes.
“Right as you know you earned your first punishment with that sarcastic comment back at the workshop, so I think we’d best get on with it.” Her voice is slightly muffled by the hood, but I can hear her. I know as part of the modifications the hood has been adapted to take noise cancelling earplugs, which will in theory make me totally deaf, but at the moment these are not fitted.
I’m fairly sure my punishment will involve testing the e-stim points on the cock cage so I’m surprised when I feel the familiar shape of a ballet boot being fitted to one of my feet.
“Cool… I was worried that these wouldn’t fit with your new ankle cuffs but it looks like they do.” she says as she pulls the straps tight and the laces even tighter. A few minutes later, I’m wearing both of them and my feet are once again forced into the unnatural en-pointe position.
She guides me to stand and I wobble precariously on the thin heels and my toes, my hands behind my back and my hobbled ankles making it virtually impossible to maintain my balance. She leads me a few unsteady steps and I hear as chains are attached to each side of my new collar. An electric winch whirs and my head is pulled upwards until I’m standing straight.
I now have an horrific predicament, I can either take my full weight on my ballet boots, or if I stumble in these, I will be left suspended by my neck. I deliberately bend my knees slightly and I’m comforted by the result. As my metal hood is connected to the collar I’m actually being held up more by my whole head than my neck alone. It’s not comfortable at all, but at least I’m not getting strangled.
I can then feel my cock cage being manipulated. This was what I was expecting initially and I’m certain she’s connecting the e-stim. Sure enough this is confirmed a few minutes later as a short but sharp jolt in my crotch causes my legs to give way and I’m left dangling by my head for a few seconds until I manage to somehow take the weight again on my feet.
"You look absolutely pathetic, slave,” she sneers. “A ballet dancer you are not... I was expecting a nice graceful dance as I electrocute that nasty cock!" Mistress laughs, the sound echoing slightly in the enclosed space of my hood.
Another jolt of pain shoots through my groin, this one in a different place. I gasp, my body convulsing, and I'm left hanging by my head once more. I manage to regain my footing, my breathing labored and my heart racing. The whole experience is intense, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins keeps me focused and alert.
She systematically goes through the multiple choices presented to her with the six electrical connections on my cage. The shocks come in different places on my cock and balls and she laughs cruelly at my muffled gasps and stumbles with each one. This particular punishment is pure torture, there’s no way to prepare for the next shock as they are completely random and when they do come, there’s the physical and mental exertion of trying to stay upright as my body spasms.
After about twenty minutes of this my legs are shaking violently, even when I’m not being electrocuted. Thankfully, she shows mercy, turns off the e-stim and I hear the whir of the winch as I am slowly lowered. I lie on the cold hard floor groaning into my gag as the chains to my collar and the ballet boots are removed. My legs feel like jelly, and I’m struggling to get any feeling back into my toes.
She leaves me to recover for a little while before helping me to stand and leading me downstairs to the dungeon. Soon I’m attached to the same bondage chair that I did my task in. I feel as my nose tubes are fitted with two lit cigarettes and start to cough heavily as the forced smoking punishment I endured just a week ago is repeated. Again, I go immediately lightheaded before the nausea from breathing pure smoke hits me. I cough, splutter and struggle desperately.
After what seems like an eternity, the cigarettes are removed just before I pass out. I gasp in the fresh air, my lungs burning and my head swimming.
Mistress laughs cruelly, “Just making sure you haven’t forgotten what forced smoking feels like as you’re going to be doing quite a lot of it this year. That concludes your punishment, slave. In the future, you will not request freedom even as a joke and you will certainly not disrespect me in front of others. Do you understand?"
I nod as vigorously as my hood will allow.
“Good, I have some friends coming so I’m going to leave you to have your meal, I’ll see you later.” I hear the dungeon door slam and a few minutes later the sludge starts to be delivered down my throat.
“So these two tubes provide him with food and water do they?” I recognise the voice as one of Tracey‘s friends from the BDSM club we attend. She’s another dominatrix and the two of them are thick as thieves.
“Yep, in theory I could leave the metal hood on forever if I want to, but of course I’m not that cruel.” Mistress replies.
“Oh, I think you probably are!” It’s a male voice this time which I can’t quite place. “How does he take a piss?”
There’s a pause before Mistress answers and I feel my cock cage being moved slightly “He’s catheterised, I’m currently working on a new system so I don’t have to keep emptying the bloody bucket or colostomy bag!”
“ Wow, that’s extreme.” I feel a hand touching my flesh near one of my wrist cuffs. “These cuffs are fucking amazing, you say Dave’s actually welded them onto him?” It’s another female voice now speaking.
“Yes… permanently”
I hear a low whistle. “Just… wow! Are you looking for a bound little slut to join him? The whole thing sounds hot as fuck!” I recognise the voice now, it’s Sarah, a submissive from the club who’s known to have quite extreme tastes in kink.
“Be careful what you wish for Sarah!” Mistress cautions. Maybe Sarah isn’t that keen to join me as this short response shuts her up. I’m not sure whether to feel relief or disappointment.
I’m not sure how many people are in the dungeon, but it seems my beloved mistress has chosen to display her new permanently bound toy to a group of our kinky friends. They all seem to be talking together now and it’s difficult to make out what they’re saying inside my metal hood.
There’s a flurry of hands touching me as I’m examined like a piece of meat.