Chapter 5: Resolution
Chapter 3
You have just visited me, Mistress, and I thank you for that. But as always, the purpose of your visit was purely to make me suffer more. You forced me to smoke a cigarette through my nose tube, as you know this is something I hate, but also love simply because you’re forcing me to do it. Your insatiable wish to make me suffer is something I've come to accept and crave, although perhaps I should not be admitting this to you, Mistress.
It’s a harsh reminder that my suffering is your pleasure, and I'm helpless to stop it. You also gave me more instructions of when I may and may not type and although I could not reply to your questions, I want you to know that I understood. This will probably increase my time here in the dungeon, but if that is your wish, I gladly accept it. Let’s face it, I don’t really have a choice anyway and I love when you take away my choices.
My nipples are aching from the clamps you put on them and I’m hoping they will soon go numb to relieve this pain. But I know this relief will only be temporary until you choose to electrocute them, which I am sure you will soon enough.
I am now trying to type as fast as I can. I know that you can stop me from typing when you wish and I need to get as many words down as possible before this happens, or I will indeed be here for many days.
I wish to try to explain my feelings right now, although I know this will be difficult as they are a tangled mess of pain, humiliation, fear, and… yes, love. Love for you, my Mistress, my wife, my constant tormentor. You hold all the power in our relationship, and I crave this power imbalance. I need it, just as I need air to breathe. Without it, I feel incomplete, lost.
You have always been the dominant force in our relationship, ever since we first met. You saw something in me, a weakness perhaps, or maybe just a desire to submit and be made to suffer. Either way, you took control, and I let you. I wanted you to.
At first, I had no idea of the level of control and derogation you would inflict on me. But then again, neither did you, I believe. Our journey has been one of exploration, and each of us, over the years has become more extreme in our desires. It’s been a journey of mutually agreed depravity, one that I hope will never end.
I sometimes wonder just how far this will go in the future. I haven’t told you this before and deep in my heart, I know I shouldn’t now as there is a huge chance you will make it a reality. But I need to be honest with you so I’m just going to go for it.
I envisage a time when I am in permanent bondage, Mistress. You have had heavy metal manacles permanently welded onto my wrists and ankles and an equally heavy metal collar welded closed around my neck.
These are made from a material that is very difficult to cut, so they will be virtually impossible to get off and will be with me for the rest of my life. They will make it very difficult for me to have any contact with the public, unless of course, when you wish me to be seen in them to add to my humiliation. It will certainly mean I’ll need to lose contact with my vanilla friends.
There will be a selection of heavy chains to join my cuffs and collar, and these will be of different lengths. Most of my life will be spent with short chains severely restricting my movements, but when you wish me to do tasks for you the length of the chains will be increased to give me sufficient movement to be able to complete your task. But of course, as soon as the task is done, I will be returned to stricter confinement, being made to wait until you wish to use me next.
I will also be hooded, either with this metal contraption or one of our sensory deprivation hoods in the periods you choose not to be using me. You will have complete control over not only whatever little freedom you choose to give me, but also my speech, vision and hearing at all times.
My cock will be locked in a heavy-duty cage, again permanently, but this cage will be removable for the periods that you wish to use my cock for your pleasure. The cage will be designed so my cock cannot become erect when I am in it, I will only be permitted an erection when you dictate this and choose to remove it. This will also apply to my orgasms. The decision on when I am allowed to cum, if indeed at all, will of course be yours.
I have just read back the last five paragraphs, Mistress. What I have written really scares me and I am seriously considering deleting them as I somehow know if you read them, it will become my reality. For now, I’m going to leave them and try to really think through if this is something I seriously want.
I’m conflicted, because as much as I’m terrified of this level of permanent bondage and control, it also sends a shiver of pure thrill and arousal through my entire body. I love the idea of it, but I’m not at all sure I could live with it for the rest of my life. If these paragraphs are still present in my story when you read this, Mistress, you will know that I have concluded this is something I do actually want. It will of course be your decision if you wish to implement it, and I will respect that decision wholeheartedly.
As I’m pondering this, the TV screen in front of me has just flickered to life again. You’re standing in our bedroom and I love your new outfit; a red leather corset that pulls in your already slim waist to an almost impossible diameter, a tiny black latex mini skirt, fishnet stockings, and of course, your gorgeous red high heels, the ones you know are my favorite. You are such a tease Mistress, my cock is attempting to get hard just from looking at you on this TV screen, but of course you know that isn’t possible with this cage i’ts locked in.
Behind you stands another man, presumably your second client. He is dressed in sissy and slutty female clothes. I can’t see his face as his head is enclosed in a latex hood but the hair of what is obviously a very long blonde wig comes out the bottom of the hood and flows down nearly to his thighs.
His body is adorned with various restraints: a choker collar around his neck, wrist and ankle cuffs, and a tightly laced waist cincher that unnaturally pulls in his rather fat belly. A long, thick dildo protrudes from his groin, a strap on, and there is no signs of his cock which is completely hidden behind this. It seems you do not wish to use his real cock for this session.
He’s struggling to maintain balance in the platform stripper heels you have locked onto his ankles.
“This is my new slave” you say to me through the camera, patting him on the head. You have chosen to unmute the sound this time so I can hear everything. “He’s called… let’s see, what did you say your name was again?” You turn to the man, feigning ignorance.
“Fifi Mistress” he says meekly. His voice is muffled by the latex hood, but he obviously isn’t gagged beneath it.
“Oh yes, Fifi, what a lovely manly name, you pathetic pencil dick. Now, you can’t see him because of your hood, but my husband is helplessly bound and gagged in our dungeon, two floors below us. I’ve chosen to let him watch our scene together on the TV that’s fixed in front of him. I’d get him to say hello, but unfortunately he can’t, but maybe you will hear his scream when I press this!”
You stab your finger to your phone and high voltage electricity courses through my genitals and nipples. My body convulses as I do indeed let out several loud screams, which are muffled by my gag and hood.
”Did you hear that Fifi? It wasn’t very loud. Perhaps I need to increase the electricity.”
“Yes Mistress, I heard him.” Thank God for that… you take your finger from your phone and my torment stops for the moment, but my body continues to do little involuntary jerks from the huge shocks it’s just received.
“That’s good Fifi, now I want you to explain to my dear hubby why you are here today, do this now, please.”
Fifi hesitates, but then starts to talk. “Um, well, Mistress, I’ve always been into the sissification of a male. I love it when I’m forced to dress as a girl. To be specific a false Barbie type girl, the epitome of femininity and sex appeal. It’s a morbid fascination of mine, being transformed, my masculinity stripped away and replaced with a twisted parody of femininity."
“Mmmm, good answer. You say you like to be forced into this, as in bound and made helpless?”
“Yes Mistress, I’m ashamed to want these things and it helps when I am forced into it.”
"So, you want to be treated like a naughty girl, Fifi? Bound and punished for your wish to be feminized" she asks, a cruel edge to her voice.
“Yes Mistress”
"Well, I think we can arrange that.” She taps at her phone again, and I expect another painful jolt, but instead I get a low tingling feeling in my wrists. It’s her signal for me to stop typing until she turns the tingling off.
Hello again, Mistress, I have no clue as to how long it’s been since you stopped me from typing but the tingling in my wrists has just stopped and the TV switched off, so here I am again. I have of course, been watching everything on the TV as you told me I must.
I have to admit, Mistress, seeing Fifi forcefully transformed into a sissy was incredibly arousing. We’ve never done that in our play and I’m wondering if it’s something you would like to do with me. The idea of me with a long wig and slutty makeup being forced to serve you drinks or a meal whilst I’m dressed in provocative female clothes with uncomfortable high heels, does appeal.
There’s something incredibly degrading and humiliating about it, and of course, these are feelings that I absolutely adore. I’m not sure how far you would take this, but I feel that you would enjoy it too, Mistress, to see me completely feminized. In my mind, after I have served you and I’m of no further use you would bind your little sissy helplessly, maybe using me as some kind of ornament or artwork for you to admire whilst you eat your meal.
Perhaps you’d force your bound sissy girl to watch as you fuck another man, or maybe multiple men. I’d have no choice other than to wait patiently as I witness my wife being fucked, my caged cock aching with desire, unable to be satisfied.
I must admit, I did feel a pang of jealousy when I saw Fifi transformed as your sissy slave. I watched as she fucked you with her strap on. As soon as she was done, you removed this, securely bound her, then returned the compliment by using the same strap on, still wet with your juices, to ruthlessly pound her in the ass. That was so hot Mistress. I was clenching my muscles around the butt plug you have forced inside me and are making me sit on, imagining it was me you were ass fucking.
It was a pathetic attempt to gain some kind of pleasure while you were busy with another, but it only served to make me more frustrated. After the fuck fest, I watched as you left Fifi, tightly hogtied and gagged, on our bed with the hair of her long blonde wig splayed out around her. She was nothing but a helpless doll, waiting for your return, and you made her wait, didn’t you Mistress?
You smoked a cigarette deliberately in full view of the camera, then strutted out of the room leaving me to watch Fifi in bondage for what felt like hours. She was remarkably calm and still for most of the time, but occasionally she would wiggle around violently in a futile attempt to get free. The moans from her ball gag were the only thing that reminded me that this was actually a man!
The thought of all this has made me so turned on Mistress. Every muscle in my body is aching from being bound for so long, but all I can think of is you removing my cock cage and giving me permission to cum. My cock is desperate and throbbing, it’s swollen as much as it can in this bloody thing and is pressing itself against the metal bars of the cage. But not enough to permit me to cum and you haven’t given me permission to anyway. It’s so frustrating.
I just want to reach down and finish myself off. Right now I’d happily take the consequences for cuming without permission, but of course I can’t, bound as I am. Instead, I have to wait until you eventually release me and then deem that I have earned the privilege to cum and I know that could be weeks, months even if you choose to be cruel in your denial.
The frustration is almost unbearable, Mistress. Your slave is desperate for sexual release but I know this is not going to be forthcoming any time soon.
As I’m typing this, I see the TV screen flicker again, and there you are, back in the bedroom. Fifi has gone and you’ve changed into a silky red night dress, your hair is pinned up in a messy bun, and you’re holding a glass of wine. You’re sitting on the bed, looking directly into the camera.
You’ve just told me that you’re tired and it’s bedtime. That came as quite a shock, I thought it was still day and you had two more clients to come, but you obviously chose not to turn the TV on for the other two. It dawns on me that I am now definitely here for the night. I am wondering if I should continue typing all night or attempt to get some sleep.
Checking the word count, I am now over halfway through my story. If I manage to keep going all night, there’s a good chance I’ll have it finished by the time you wake up in the morning. It seems that’s what you want me to do as you’ve just told me you’ve set the e-stim to deliver random shocks throughout the night. You blow me a kiss, wish me good night and the TV goes black.