I could tell that she was annoyed with me.  But she gave no indication as to what my transgression was.  I dreaded nights like these.  I knew that once the kids were in bed and we were alone in our room that there would be a reckoning, so as she quietly shut our bedroom door I felt my pulse quicken.

No sooner than the door close I heard her softly order. “Look at me,” I lifted my eyes only to feel the sharp sting of her open palm as she slapped my face.  I flinched instinctively. She slapped me again. 

“Now do you know what that was for?”

“No Ma’am,” I stammered, my face still stinging and red.

“You were looking at the hostess who seated us at dinner tonight.  I caught you looking.  How dare you.”

I was taken aback, had I really been looking at her, I vaguely recalled her body and her face and after ten days locked in chastity I knew that I could be easily aroused.  But I didn’t think my gaze had lingered, at least not any more than normal.

“Do you admit it?”

“No Ma’am,” I stumble, confused, “I mean maybe.”

“Not good enough.  Go turn on the stereo, loud enough so that my children won’t hear what I’m about to do to you.”

I shudder, knowing this means corporal punishment will follow, but I obey, not just because after ten days I am desperate and horny, but also because I know that my Lady always has my best interests at heart.

“Now fetch my hair brush.” I bring the big wooden handled hairbrush over to her.

“Now strip,” even after six months together the command to undress excites me and despite my fear at what is to come I feel my cock swelling against the cage of my chastity devise.

“Now the ball-gag as well.  We can’t be waking anyone up.”  I bring it to her. “Kneel,” obediently I open my mouth and she buckles it around my head.  She grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me over her lap and begins a blistering hairbrush spanking that doesn’t end until I’m sobbing and my bottom is red.

She pushes me off her lap and down to the floor and removes the gag.  “now what do you have to say for yourself?

“I’m very sorry Ma’am.”

“Not good enough.  You need to focus on me as your Goddess.  No TV, no internet and no telephone calls to anyone else but me for the next week whatsoever, understood?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Good, there’s plenty of extra spring cleaning chores that can better occupy your time.  Now bring me your laptop.  I plan on watching gay porn on it and enjoying seeing other men’s cocks while you worship my body and focus on knowing you will never see another woman naked again, certainly not in the flesh anyway.”

My Lady undress and lays on her stomach on the bed.  She quickly brings herself to some favorite videos on xhamster and provides me with an occasional commentary and the videos she is enjoying.  I squat at the edge of the bed and part the cheeks of her buttocks.  As is our ritual I thank her for the discipline by plunging my tongue against her anal sphincter and rimming her ample ass.

Just a fantasy so far:

I’d made plans to attend the Saturday, January 21, Women’s Right March in Washington D.C. “The Million Womens” March.  It felt like the only thing I could do to express my disgust with the incoming regime.  I hadn’t voted for Hillary Clinton, seeing her as a part of the “problem,” and had cast a protest vote for the Greens instead, though admittedly I’d felt more comfortable rejecting a lesser of two evils strategy, given my belief there was no way the Donald was electable.  How wrong could I have been.

Since the drive was too much to do in one day I decided to advertise on a kinky couch surfer’s website.  I offered my non-sexual services in exchange for a place to crash, however modest, on the evening of  the 20^th and/or 21^st.  I actually never expected this to work out and planned on just getting a motel room somewhere in Maryland, but low and behold I received a response and from a Mistress no less.  It appeared she was about ten years older than me and her profile was fascinating in the sadistic depths it hinted at. 

She actually offered me the option of staying with her both the 20th and the 21^st with a few minimal conditions, these principally being:

1. I must meet her in a safe parking lot and leave my car there, I would not be allowed to know her physical address.
2. I must surrender my car keys to her upon meeting her and would not have them returned until after the morning of the 22^nd.
3. I must come to her locked in chastity and immediately surrender those keys to her as well.
4. I would have several hours of chores to be performed each evening I stayed with her before I would be allowed to sleep.  There would be strict time limits for these chores and high standards that would be explained to me.  Failure to meet the standards would result in a real (not a play or fun) punishment being administered.
5. I would sleep caged or chained at night.

I squirted some more oil onto my hands and rubbed them briskly together so that the oil would be warm when I applied it to her feet.  I coated them with the oil and then began to work my fingers over her soles.  After a good five minutes working the bottom of her feet I moved to her heels and then ran my fingers along the tendons on the tops of her foot.  I moved my fingers in an out between her toes, wiggling them and then rubbed my hands briskly and soothingly over her feet.  I kneaded the bottoms gently with my fist. I must have spent a good ten minutes rubbing her feet.

Then she rolled over and I began massaging her ankles and working my way back up her legs.  I ran my hands long the trunk of her body, feeling her thick middle and massaged the front of her hips before tracing my way back up to her shoulders.  I lifted her shoulders as best I could and tried to shake them as she lay and then started back down her arms, working the front in a manner similar to that I’d employed on the back of her arms earlier.  Another five minutes had probably passed and I estimated I’d been massaging her body for nearly an hour now.

I moved my hands back up to her scalp and worked it for a few minutes and then began to trace tiny circles with my fingers over her forehead, her cheeks and her temples.  My hands were quite tired now so I slid them down her entire body, gently and slowly, attempting to signal the massage was over.

“Are you getting tired boy?”  She asked me at last.

“Yes, Ma’am,” I whispered, bringing my hands to rest on her shoulders.

“Too bad,” she said, “you’re the one who came here looking for this.  Now it’s time to follow through.  You’ll be done when I say you’ll be done.”  With that she rolled over. “Now, massage my back some more,” she commanded.

I did as ordered, another good ten minutes passed in this way and my hands were so tired that I began to simply rub my hands gently over her body.

“You’re getting lazy boy.” She reproached me and I tried to pick up the pace and apply more pressure.  “That’s better, harder now.” This went on a few more minutes with me trying to resume the previous level of pressure, but it had now probably been almost an hour and a half and I was very tired.

“Stand up straight boy,” she instructed and I obeyed. 

I heard her shift her weight off of the table and signed with relief.  The massage at last was over and my hands could rest.

“Hands on the table,” she commanded.  I laid my hands on the padded surface of the massage table.  I was startled to feel a ruler slap against my knuckles.  Alarmed, I instinctively jerked them away, only to find her free left fist in my hair tugging it painfully.

“Put those back boy.”

I sighed and placed my hands back on the table.  The ruler smacked my knuckles a dozen more times.

“That’ll teach you not to be so lazy.  Now, you’ll do my feet again and if you are good and do just as well as before that will be all and we can move on to your punishment.”

My knuckles stung as she remounted the table and I began to work on her feet again.  After maybe ten minutes she stopped.

“That was nice boy.  And if I decide you are worthy enough to accept as my slave, it will be a daily occurrence from now on.”  She said as she fastened a robe about her body and removed my blindfold.  “Now, you may collapse the table.”

I hurriedly folded it up, dreading all the while what I knew must inevitably come next.

“Kneel on all fours” she commanded. 

She produced a leather collar, which she fastened about my neck and several pieces of rope at various lengths.  She tied one length of the around my balls, just above the plastic cock ring of the chastity cage and ran the rope to the D-Ring of the collar.  She tied this tight enough that should I jerk my head to the slightest degree the rope would be sure to tug at my balls. 

Then she took the ball gag from my bag.  “I have neighbors on either side of me.  Until I know that I can trust you to remain silent, I’ll be using this when you are being abused.”  She said as she fixed the ball gag in place.  Next she tied my ankles.

“Rest your forehead on the floor now boy and put your hands together behind your back.”  She tied my wrists tightly together, just above my waist and then ran another length of rope connected my wrists to my ankles.

She walked in front of me and let me see my own black leather belt, the buckle in her palm as she wrapped it a couple of times around her hand and then stepped behind me.

“You made a very bad mistake today.  How dare you show up at my work and my door like that.  What are you, some sort of stalker?  How could you imagine that little stunt with the key was appropriate behavior for a boy who wants to be a slave?  You need to be taught a lesson now.  You need to be punished.  You’ve been too bold.  Now I’ll teach you to feel me.  I’m going to use your own belt on your bottom until you are in tears.”  With that she let the belt fly out and land a hard lick across my buttocks.  I squeezed my eyes closed and screwed up my courage and pressed my head harder against the floor.  She rained several blows down on me from the belt in quick succession, than she stopped and rubbed my ass with her hand.

“It’s starting to get a little red now boy.  By the time I’m done it’ll be sore that you’ll be snapping to my every command for fear I’ll so much as touch your ass again.  It’ll be so sore tonight you’ll probably end up sleeping on your side or your belly and you won’t want to sit tomorrow.”

She moved back behind me and now landed several blows in the exact same spot.  So hard and so many times that I found myself involuntarily jerking my head despite the fact that doing so pulled unpleasantly at my balls.  She grabbed a fistful of my hair.  “Now hold still and take your whipping.”

She took a step back and let loose with the belt again.  She sadistically aimed the belt at the same exact spots over and over.  “You’re getting really red now, but you’ll be black and blue in the morning too,” she purred and I knew this was making her wet.

The belt landed a dozen more times and at last the dam broke and tears flowed from the corner of my eyes.  She landed another half dozen strokes as I sobbed through the gag and then came to me and untied my collar so she could lift my head by my chin and look into my eyes.  “I like to see a boy in tears, it excites me, I’ll have you in tears often from now on.”  As she spoke she moved behind me and untied my ankles.  She left my hands tied behind my back however and left the rope around my balls dangling in place.  She helped me to my feet.  She removed the ball gag and fastened the blindfold back in place and then, with one fist in my hair and the other wrapped round the rope around my balls she guided me out of the guest bedroom and down the hall to a room that I assumed must be her bedroom. 

She led me to a corner.  “Kneel, nose against the wall.”  I hurried to obey, now, since my severe belting, genuinely afraid of her temper.

I heard her large body sink onto the mattress and a drawer open.  The I felt a gentle tug at the rope around my balls and knew she still held it in one hand.  Next I heard the unmistakable sound of a vibrator and also moist wet sounds coming from the direction of the bed, then sighs of pleasure which were accompanied by tugs at my balls.  From the sounds I could tell her excitement was mounting and as it did the jerks on the rope became harder until at last she must have orgasmed and I felt the rope go slack.

I was nervous as I stood in line waiting to check out.  The Department store was busy for a Monday afternoon.  When I got up to the belt I unloaded my basket.  A new shirt (a long sleeve black polo shirt in a silky finish) and trousers (Chino Khakis), a pair of b.temt’d Lace Kiss Hipster panties in Tango Red and an OXO good grips wooden spoon set.  I’d been biding my time, waiting for her to be on the register.  I paid with cash and when she handed me the receipt and cash I passed her a sterling silver chain necklace from which dangled a single key.

“Here, I think you dropped this earlier,” I said, and began to walk away. 

“I don’t think so,” she said, giving me a quizzical look.

Back in my hotel room I took my time showering, shampooing and conditioning, shaving my pubic hair, applying deodorant and aftershave.  I carefully dried my private area and then rushed to pull on the cage in place before my cock, hardening in excitement, could prevent me from snapping the lock shut.  A key, identical to the one I’d handed the cashier, lay on the bathroom vanity in front of me.  I took a deep breath and dropped it into the garbage can of the hotel bathroom.  I felt confident I’d not be needing it again.

I paused after I parked my car outside her house, I took a deep breath and swung my backpack over my shoulders and took the massage table out of the trunk and made my way to her door.  I rang the bell and stood in the doorway.  There was a light on, so I hoped she was home and alone.  After a few minutes, I heard someone behind the door, I imagined she was looking out at me and not surprisingly there was a hesitant pause.  In that pause I wondered if she would recognize me from her work.  Then she opened the door a crack.

“Yes?” She asked, looking me up in  down.

“Miss C, did you order an in-call massage?”  I said, nodding to the table which was heavy in my hands.

She looked me up and down and then gave me a rueful smile.  I knew she had recognized me now, even if she hadn’t remembered me at first sight.  She hesitated another second and with an expression that seemed a mixture of amusement and irritation and motioned me in.

“Are you some sort of crazy stalker?  Do you make a habit of showing up at the doors of women you don’t know?”

“I’m just here to give you the massage you wanted . . .” I stammer.

“Yes, I know,” she nodded curtly.  “And how am I supposed to know that I can trust you?”

“The key.” I said softly.

“Ahh yes, so you are locked already?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

She paused and then ordered: “Show me, strip.”

I pulled the polo shirt off over my head, removed my shoes and socks and dropped my trousers. 

“Fold your hand behind your head.”

I did as instruct and she circled me, eyeing me up and down and then briefly touching the lock on my chastity cage.

“Take the belt off of your pants and hand it to them and then fold your clothes neatly and hand them to me.”

I did as I was instructed.  She walked out of the room with my clothes and returned a few minutes later, now carrying only my leather belt.

“You’ll get those back when you need them.  You’ll be naked at all times as long as you are here.  Is that understood?”  As she spoke she squeezed my cheeks between her hand and directed my eyes to hers.

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Good, and from now on, you’ll speak only when directly spoken to, is that also understood?

“Yes Ma’am.”

“And after my massage you’ll be tied up and punished for that stunt you pulled at my work and for showing up on my doorstep like this.  You won’t be untied and you won’t get your clothes or your car keys back until I’m satisfied you’ve suffered enough to learn your lesson.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Good, there a spare bedroom on the right of that hall, go and set the table up in there.”

I scurried away to do as ordered.  Once the table was unfolded and the legs locked I got out the oil and the blindfold and put it on.  I left the bag open, a few feet from the table, to be sure she would see it and might examine the contents.

I heard her enter the room a few minutes later.  She chuckled.  “Who told you to put on that blindfold slave?”

“No one Ma’am? I just thought .  . .” I stammered nervously.

“Well from now on don’t think.  You can leave it on though for now.  It amuses me.”

I heard her begin to rummage in my bag and smiled in satisfaction.  “What’s this?  Very nice.”  I heard her say and then I heard her mount the table.

“Well, what are you waiting for, you may begin.”

I approached the table and found the back of her head.  I began to gently massage her scalp and was rewarded with an almost immediate sigh of satisfaction.  After three or four minutes of working her scalp I rubbed a small bit of oil into my palms and after first warming it with the friction of my hands I applied it to the back of her neck and began working her neck in tiny, firm circles with my thumbs.  After a couple of minutes of this I began tracing my thumbs down either side of the vertebrae of her neck and then thoroughly wetting my hands with more oil I slid my hands down to her shoulders.

She was a large woman, maybe three hundred pounds, so massaging her back was a tiring exercise and required firmness of my hands.  I used my fists to knead her flesh, my thumbs to work in circles and I hit her with the sides of my palms in the Swedish style.  When my fingers would fatigue, I’d rest them for a few minutes by simply rubbing her back gently or by applying my fingers in a teasing feather light touch.  Her back was tense so I devoted a good twenty minutes to working over the area from her shoulders to her hips, following the curve of her spine, working under her should blades, tracing my fingers along her ribs, as best as I could feel them through her flash and stroking the small of her back and the area above her hips.

I took a deep breath and nervously slid my hands down to her ample bottom.  I hoped she would not think me too forward or inappropriate as I began to knead her buttocks.  Not so much oil was needed here as I massaged her rear.  I tried to imagine what it looked like and half cursed myself for having put on the blindfold.  I felt my cock stirring as much as it could within the cage and trembled with a desire to bend down and literally kiss her ass.  I stifled the urge with the greatest difficulty, out of dread of the torment she might inflict if she judged such an act too forward.  I jiggled her buttocks for a few more minutes and then applied more oil to my hands and moved down to her thighs.

I rubbed her thighs back and forth in a gesture not dissimilar to kids playing at Indian Rope Burns and otherwise shook the back of her thighs.  I kneaded the flesh behind her knees with the balls of my thumbs and then moved down to her calves, lifting her lower legs in the air and rubbing the bottom of my forearm against the calf muscle.  Then juggling the calves and finally working them with my thumbs.  I figured it was now nearly forty minutes and my hands were beginning to tire and my own back began feeling like it might need a good massage.  But I knew I still had to do her feet and that after a long day of standing at work they’d be particularly in need of my attention.