For The Love Of A Pet

I'm up earlier than normal, my eyes fluttering open without the delightful pleasure of my usual alarm clock's tongue in my pussy. For a moment I think about lying here cocooned in my blankets until he wakes up too but idleness has always made me edgy. Instead, I toss off my covers and slip naked from the edge of the bed. 

I'm standing in the bedroom of my studio apartment, the one I've been renting since I started university one and a half years ago now. The mirror in front of me displays a young woman in her prime, twenty-two years old, my body tall and slender but well-muscled from years of sport and strict conditioning. My long black hair is messy and untamed, my green eyes hard and cold. 

I move to the small bathroom and shower in cold water scrubbing down every inch of my body with soup and scented body wash. I shave my legs in the shower and then step outside to trim the carefully manicured patch of pubic hair above my pussy. Then I brush my teeth for two and a half minutes exactly. Flossing follows, and some mouth wash. I am a scrupulously clean woman, with high standards for myself and my possessions. When I return to my bedroom I am feeling awake and refreshed. I move to my wardrobe to pick out my clothes for the day. The outfits inside are meticulously organised, and it takes only a moment for me to pick out one suitable for the relaxing day of lectures and classes that is to come. 

As I pull on a stylish tank-top, my gaze falls on the small cage sitting at the foot of my bed. My petboy, Christian, is just stirring, rubbing his big, blue eyes. He stretches out as much as the cage can allow, stifling a small yawn. He's naked like always, his skin smooth and milky white. Some people dress their slaves in silly costumes, latex and rubber, but I've always liked the contrast it creates when he kneels at my feet, bare and vulnerable, while I wear designer clothes worth almost as much as he is. 

Just like the pet he is, all he wears is a pretty pink collar round his slender neck, the heart-shaped tag inscribed with my name and phone number. Then there's the chastity cage between his soft thighs of course, the key to which he hasn't seen in over six months. He's strictly bound and blindfolded whenever I take it off to groom him. 

I smile to myself, feeling a flutter of pride at just how much he resembles a domestic animal, a dog or cat waking in the bedroom of their Mistress. All thanks to my strict training, of course. I took an ordinary boy, albeit a weak-willed submissive, and turned him into my prized possession. Even if I ever set him free, I doubt he'd be capable of living a normal life anymore. The extent to which I've meticulously molded him to my own desires goes far beyond the training of any other slave I've seen or read about. The thought gives me a hot thrill, and I feel an insistent warmth bloom between my legs.

He notices I'm already up and his eyes widen in surprise. As if on cue, the lock on his cage buzzes open and a light flashes green. That would normally be his signal to shuffle out and burrow under my covers so I can wake with his tongue lapping at my pussy. If he's not awake to respond, his chastity gives him a helpful reminder in the form of a sharp shock. Of course, the fact that I was up early today doesn't mean he's allowed to shirk his morning duties.

I click my fingers and point between my naked legs. Christian hurriedly pushes his nose against the door to the cage, letting it ease open on oiled hinges. Not even a thought of using his hands anymore. The pet boy crawls forward, his back arched and his hips wriggling. My hungry gaze drifts over his girly body, so smooth and perfect. His shoulders and waist are thin and slender, his thighs and bottom soft and plump. Even his little face is oh-so adorable and pretty. Long, light lashes, plump, pink lips and smooth cheeks that blush ever so readily whenever I find something that pushes his boundaries.

As soon as I saw him, almost two years ago now, I knew I had to make him mine. No matter that I was barely twenty years old myself then, the wheels were already turning in my mind, coming up with a plan to take this pretty thing and turn him into the perfect slave. As he crawls to me, kneeling at my feet, I find myself remembering how I made that dream a sweet reality.

I had just been accepted into college, and at the same time finally persuaded my parents it was time I got a domestic servant of my own. Ever since I was a child, the prospect of owning a slave had fascinated and enticed me in equal measure. Even at that age, most other people bored me, but the thought of taking a rebellious and unwilling boy and training him until he lived only to serve me had a certain wicked appeal I could not deny. My vibrator only saw use when I was fantasizing about what I'd do to my own pet slave. It had become an obsession to me, the need to own another person and bend them to my every whim. 

Fortunately I lived in enlightened enough times. The days of universal suffrage and human rights had come and gone, forgotten and unmourned. Slavery was very much legal, and my parents even owned a few bonded servants of their own. Most rich people did. It was a status symbol, since acquiring one was usually so expensive. Any authority I had over the downtrodden maids and miserable grooms who cleaned my childhood home was simply a reflection of my parent's power and that wasn't good enough for me. I wanted to punish and train my own pet exactly as I pleased. Even then, I had detailed and exquisite plans to reduce the boy I owned to something fawning and obedient, an animal in all but name. 

One short trip to the debtor's prison later with my Father in tow and I found myself very disappointed in the stock on display. I'd walked past rows of miserable wretches who held no appeal to me, all of them too old, too ugly or just too boring to be the subject of my long-standing fantasies. Then I spotted Christian for the very first time, curled up alone and sobbing in a cage. Eighteen years old, an orphan who'd taken on his dead parent's debts with no chance of paying them. He'd been taken to the prison barely a day ago, his life a forfeit to his creditors, and was still very much frightened by his fate. 

He looked so small and vulnerable lying there, a delicate creature ripe for the taking. Just looking at him then, I felt something awaken deep inside me. Suddenly I couldn't tear my gaze away from him. My cheeks were flushed, and your hands shaking. Even my heart, normally steady as a razor, was pounding out a throbbing rhythm in my  aching chest. I'd never felt such a heated interest in another person in my life, and it took a good few moments for me to regain control of myself.

When I had, I analysed my feelings with my usual cool composure. It wasn't hard to figure out what I wanted from the boy. The dark, naughty fantasies flooding through my mind made that clear enough. I wanted to see him cry, to make him cry. I wanted to own him, in every way that mattered. I wanted him to live for me, to look at only me.

It was love at first sight, of a sort. Perhaps the only sort I am capable of. 

Less than ten minutes later, I'd had my Father buy the price of his life for an outrageously cheap amount. I knew if I left him any longer he'd be snapped up by some other predator and that thought brought with it a bitter rage that made me want to lock him up in the chest in my bedroom and never let him out again. By that very afternoon I was in the dungeons underneath my parents' house, a whip in my hand and my new pet cowering and licking my feet. His training had begun and it still continues to this day, as I mold him more and more into exactly what I desire. 

I return to the present to find my pet boy licking eagerly at my pussy. He knows all my sweet spots by now and coaxes me towards a very satisfying orgasm as memories of his enslavement wash over my satisfied mind. He keeps suckling and licking at my inner labia, letting me ride the delicious high as long as I'm able. As soon as the crest washes away, I click my fingers and he backs away, kneeling obediently between my legs.

A silent appraisal of his posture reveals no flaws. His hands are firmly locked in the small of his back, wrists clasped together, his shoulders rolled back, thrusting his smooth chest and cute pink nipples forward. His plump, white thighs are spread nice and wide, showing off the pink chastity cage fastened to his tiny dick, and his feet are folded neatly underneath his body.

I nod, satisfied. There's no reason to punish him just yet.

Savoring the warm glow of sexual satisfaction, I pull on my underwear and stylish skinny jeans, while Christian kneels at the foot of my bed, waiting attentively for any other orders. When I'm dressed, with my hair tied back into a loose ponytail, I click my fingers and turn for the door. He follows on all fours, keeping his back arched and his head up.

In the small kitchen of my homely apartment, I set to work preparing breakfast for both of us. My diet is strictly controlled, as is his. I measure out a portion of oat porridge, mix in some strawberries, bananas and a dash of honey and pour it into a bowl for myself. As it cools on the counter, I reach up to the cupboard where his food is kept. Dry pellets, containing every nutritional additive he requires. He has a strict exercise regime designed by me to keep him slender and lithe, and I won't have that spoiled by letting him stuff his face with treats.

I weigh out the correct amount to the milligram, then pour it into his cute little doggy bowl. A smile flickers across my face at his name written on the side in sparkly pink letters. Everything I allow him to use is as girly and feminine as possible. He's used to it by now, but it still tickles me in all the right places watching him gingerly tongue a bright pink dildo as part of his oral training. The delicate, fragile masculinity he once possessed despite his girly appearance is just another thing I've taken from him.

Besides, pink just goes so perfectly against his smooth, snow-white skin, exactly why his collar and chastity are always that color. I only make a change on a few special occasions when I want him matching my outfit and fashion demands otherwise.

I place his bowl down at the foot of my chair and turn back to fetch my porridge. His stomach rumbles, making me grin, but he's too well-trained to even twitch towards the meal. I leave him in suspense a little longer, sitting down at the table and taking a spoonful of hearty porridge to my lips. He watches me from his place kneeling next to my chair, those big blue eyes studying my every move.

At last, I click my fingers and point towards the bowl. He knows any delay in finishing will be punished, so he scrambles forward and lowers his lips to the pile of pellets. No hands of course, he has to use his jaw and tongue to pick out individual chunks. The sounds of him awkwardly scarfing down the food is a pleasant addition to my own meal and I savor it as much as the sweet hints of honey in my porridge.

I finish my meal while he's still licking the bowl clean. Normally the fact that he isn't done yet would be grounds enough for punishment, but I'm feeling generous this morning. He licks the last crumbs from the bottom of his bowl then straightens back up to kneel on his haunches beside my chair. He's anxious, knowing he deserves a spanking at least, but instead of pulling him over my lap, I reach down and run my hand through his smooth blonde hair.

He stiffens in surprise, but he can't afford to be too shocked at this rare generosity from his strict Mistress. I smile down at him, playing with strands of hair and rubbing at his pale forehead. My loyal pet presses up into my palm, nuzzling at my skin. He makes soft, contended sighs when I scratch behind his ears.

I know I'm being way too kind to him right now, but a little generosity won't disrupt his training too much. Thinking about my history with Christian always seems to make me act this way, affectionate and cuddly by my standards. It shouldn't matter too much. I'll just have to be extra strict with his next mistake and make a mental note to that effect.

Letting my desires guide me, I cup his cheek and lift his pretty face up towards my own. He stares up at me silently, his lovely blue eyes fixed on my face. Gone are the days when these gorgeous pupils would glare at me filled with wounded hatred. I'd suffered through those awful months, knowing that with enough time and training he'd accept what I'd done to him. Now he looks at me with eager obedience, like any well-trained pet.

Lately though, I think I've noticed something more, and this is one of those times. His eyes are wet and limp, pupils dilated, and his plump pink lips are parted slightly. As I gently rub the smooth skin of his cheeks with my fingers, he stares at my face like I'm all that exists in his world. In a very real sense that's true, but something about this longing gaze still makes me pause. I'll have to investigate further, but for now I just let his face drop and rise from my chair.

Gathering up his bowl and mine, I head over to the sink to wash everything off. Other people would use their willing slave for these simple domestic tasks. I never have. The thought of Christian waiting on me reminds me too much of the dull, pampered existence the rest of my family leads. Besides, what's the point of training him to behave like my pet if at any moment he can get back on his feet and use his hands just to fetch me a glass of wine?

As much as I'd wish to spend more time alone with him, I am still in the process of earning my degree. While taking Christian had been the end result of one of my dearest ambitions, I had other things I wanted too. Like power and influence over everyone around me, the ability to make real change in this world. I'd been determined since I was old enough that my name would loom large in the history books. Perhaps then people would finally start treating me with the respect I am owed, instead of seeing nothing but my youth and beauty.

Unfortunately that requires me to spend these tedious years earning myself an appropriate qualification at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. I have morning lectures today and then an afternoon tutorial, rather too long to spend listening to my professor drone on about subjects I mastered weeks ago. I still attend every day of course. Doing otherwise would offend my meticulous nature and make me worry I'd missed something of value.

A glance at my watch reassures me that I have enough time to get Christian set up for his lonely day without me. He'll be kept very busy. An idle pet leaves too much time for naughtiness.

I stride past him and click my fingers. He hurriedly crawls after me on hands and knees, following me through another door into what I affectionately call his recreation room. It's full of interesting things I've acquired over the past year or so to help me train him. The centerpiece is a flat-screen television set against the far wall. I've programmed it to display an appropriate training regime for every hour I leave Christian alone in here, instructing him by the minute on what he should be doing with himself. The small camera on top allows me to observe him at any moment of the day from my smart phone and a set of speakers provides instruction or motivation in my own recorded voice. Even when I'm not around to watch over him, I want him to always be aware of my scrutiny and the possibility of punishment if he fails. 

After flicking through the options on my laptop, I choose a program for today's training. It's heavy on stretches and flexibility training. My focus at the moment is getting my pet's body more pliable. There's so much interesting bondage I want to try out on him and its easier if I don't have to force him into all these exotic positions. I have no qualms about hurting him, in fact I enjoy it rather a lot, but I don't want to risk any permanent damage to my most prized possession.

Otherwise, there's also the standard hour of cardio to keep him lithe and slender, spread out through different muscle groups to make sure he doesn't put on too much toning. I like him soft and weak, and on the diet I give him he barely manages to gain muscle anyway. I know his body almost as well as my own by now and any hint of an undesirable change can be quickly quashed by the right adjustments to his regime.

There's sexual conditioning too, exercises to build the stamina of his tongue and jaw. I want him able to eat me out for hours at a time while I work on my laptop or read a reference book. Funnily enough, I can actually focus better when I have his face buried between my legs, so long as he follows my instructions and keeps my arousal simmering rather than boiling over.

Finally, there's the part I enjoy watching the most, his anal training. He'll have to give himself several enemas of increasing size, and hold them in for as long as my program tells him. There's a small bathroom off to one side where he can empty himself. Then he moves on to the row of cute pink suction dildos pressed into the large polished mirror that forms one wall of the room. They're all lined up at just the perfect height for him to mount them when he's on all fours. I require him to spend a good amount of time each day bouncing his cute little butthole on one of them, pounding the plastic cock as deep as he can into his quivering guts. All good practice for when he takes my strapons, which I make sure he does at least once a night.

I'm working on a way to get the dildos to detect if he's squeezing them correctly with his butt, but that can wait. For now I can just enjoy the delightful vision of him panting and fucking himself as hard as he can against the wall. I record every video and watch them religiously in my spare time. There's always new things to amuse me, the delightful flush of arousal and shame in his cheeks, the shivers of need it sends through his aching body when he finds his little prostate, and his gasping moans and pants as he tires himself out just for me.

There's one more step before I can leave him here. I raise my hand above him, palm flat, and he immediately bucks up onto his haunches, kneeling there with his back straight and head up in the appropriate position. Then I reach down to his pale neck and slowly, gently unfasten his collar. He lets out a small sigh as I pull it away, and his gaze follows me closely as I hang it up on a hook on the wall.

It's a signal, from me to him, meaning a suspension of the usual rules. As much as I'd love to keep him permanently on all fours, he can't stretch or exercise properly like that. I still require him to spend as much time as possible on the ground and only use his hands where he has to, but I allow myself a fairly relaxed attitude to such things in this room. So long as he continues to try his hardest at the training I designed for him of course.

I give my pet one last look. This part is always hard for me, leaving him on his own. The certain knowledge that he'll spend his time strictly following my orders helps, but I still wish I could take him with me to classes and continue his training there. A shame it would create too much fuss and draw the ire of every busybody activist among the student population, the grungy sort who waste their time at futile protests demanding an end to slavery. As if there aren't people like Christian in the world who are just made to be owned.

With a sharp sigh, I tear my gaze away and leave him to it, just as the television flashes on with his first set of exercises displayed. I close the door behind me and carefully fasten each of the three locks shut. I trust Christian by now not to try and escape, but I feel better if I'm absolutely certain he's strictly confined to this room.

I finish dressing, tossing on a light sweater and fixing my hair and makeup to my own exacting standards. Christian is the only one that's seen me in years with even a hair out of place. Not surprising of course, who's closer to a Mistress than her loyal pet? I've let him past my defenses the way I never have anyone else. And it only cost him his whole life.

I don't do normal relationships, friends, lovers or otherwise. Christian fulfills all my needs for physical intimacy, and I haven't once felt the same white-hot desire directed at anyone but him. My interactions with everyone else in my life are kept short and to the point, much to the frustration of the male students at my university. I'm not sure what it says about me that the only social contact I'm capable of enjoying is with my own well-broken petboy. 

Ready at last, I grab my laptop bag and stride for the door. Waiting for the apartment building elevator, I check up on Christian for what will be the first of many times today. On my phone screen I can see my pretty pet starting out with some warm-up exercises. He's lying on his back now on a plastic mat in the center of the room. His legs are tucked in over his belly and he has his waist arched up to stretch his lower back and buttock muscles.

I smile to myself at how adorable he looks, trying so hard just for me. It makes me grateful every day that he came into my life and that I had the strength and foresight even at a young age to take him for myself. I'm not sure how I'd manage to stay sane without him.

It's a short walk from my apartment complex to the university campus and I'm sitting in the back row of the lecture theater within ten minutes. No-one tries to take the chairs next to me anymore, but I do notice a few of the usual curious stares. I've been an object of fascination since I started here. The beautiful young woman who tops every single class she takes, is always immaculately dressed and styled in the latest fashions, but has never been seen even once at the parties or social events that fill the schedules of my fellow students.

It took a while for me to fend off the relentless invitations and attempts to draw me into banal conversation. The men gave up easier, a few tastes of my withering tongue and I soon had a useful reputation as a frigid bitch who'd strip the manhood from any would-be stud who dared approach her. The woman took rather longer and I still sometimes get some stuttering child approaching me on campus asking for fashion advice.

I slip open my laptop as the professor takes his place in front of the class, ready for the lecture to begin. My comprehensive notes on today's subject are open, but I flick over instead to a relentlessly detailed diary describing to the hour my future plans for Christian. I make small adjustments to next week's training regime as my professor drones on in the background, pausing every few minutes to open my phone and check on my pet.

He gets a few more smiles out of me, like when I flick on the stream and see him in one of his designated break times, gulping frantically at the water feeder I installed especially for him. The nozzle is a rather large pink dildo I threaded a thin plastic tube through, so he has to work his tongue and suck a mouthful of cock just to get a drink. The intake is strictly managed to make sure he doesn't gorge himself, and soon enough he's crawling back to the center of the room for more stretching.

Later on, I catch him lying sprawled on his mat, panting and sweaty, but struggling to force his tired body into another plank. I place a small gold star icon in his training plan after I watch him manage to hold the exercise for just over thirty seconds. A reminder to reward him later for his good effort.

The day drags on. Once my lectures are finished I have a light lunch of tuna salad drizzled with olive oil, eaten in the shade of a large oak tree in one of the prettier quads. I watch Christian on my phone performing a series of squats. As much as I usually dislike seeing him standing on two feet, I have to admit that him bouncing up and down like this is rather cute. And its the best way to keep that adorable bubble-butt in shape. I find myself adding another gold star to his schedule when he pushes through obvious exhaustion to finish the last set, even though his little legs are shaking by the end of it. 

It's rare for me to be so generous, but something about today has me feeling rather warmly towards my cute Christian. I've given up trying to follow a strict set of rules when it comes to rewards and punishments, and tend instead to let my own instincts and feelings guide me in such matters. I know him so well by now it works better that way. I can sense when it's time to clamp down hard and when he needs me to ease up and be kinder. Plus, it keeps him guessing and trying harder to please me if he's never sure what exactly will earn him me favor and what will make me punish him.

No matter how kind I'm feeling however, there are still certain things that will always earn him a harsh correction. Unfortunately, today I see one of them

It's when he's halfway through his cardio session that he stumbles. I'm watching him do leg raises on his back when I notice he's barely lifting his feet up to half the height my instructions specify. He knows how to do the exercise properly, I've made sure of that with extended training sessions covering everything I've ever required of him. No, he is just being lazy and that is something I cannot abide. A large black cross is placed in his schedule next to that exercise, plus a second one when I remember how he didn't eat his breakfast quickly enough this morning.

A press of an icon on the app I programmed just for this purpose sends a message through the speakers expressing my disappointment. I smirk at the panicked look on his face when he realizes he's been caught slacking. He knows what the consequences will be. My assessment of his laziness is confirmed when he immediately launches himself into even more frantic efforts, doing the exercise right this time.

I flick to tomorrow's training regime and add in another twenty minutes of leg raises. The extra exertion will be hard for him, but I'll never push him past what he's physically capable of. There's always slack in his schedule to allow for such things. He rarely makes me use it nowadays, but every now and then I see these old bad habits creeping back in again. Fortunately, it's a simple matter to harshly correct each and every time.

With a sharp sigh, I close my laptop and head off to my afternoon tutorial. It's a group session, and I'm sharing the room with three other female students as well as my professor. I keep quiet through much of the conversation as they cover basic subjects far beneath my level. My professor is well aware of my abilities by now and only turns to me with more advanced questions. I feel the wary stares of the two girls sitting next to me as I deftly answer every one, getting into a lively debate at one point that manages to test me a little. A shame it's over far too quickly when my professor realizes my colleagues have no chance of keeping up. 

As soon as the tutorial is finished, I rise from my chair and turn to leave. I have no interest in the idle chatter of my fellow students and the faster I get home the faster I can get my work done and move on to training and amusing myself with Christian.

Minutes later finds me striding across campus, back towards my apartment building, laptop bag swinging by my side. A lingering impatience has me moving quicker than normal. I want to be home, in my little apartment sanctuary. The noise and mess of the world outside sometimes grates on me even more than usual. This is one of those days, and I know the only cure for my restlessness is to return to the one place where I can be sure I control almost everything.

The one irritation is that I'm always very much aware the apartment is only rented. I chose it carefully for the understanding and absentee landlord, but I still can't change everything. The strict plan I've made for my life allows for that just for these few years at university. As soon as I have my degree in hand I'm buying my own place. 

A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I slide my key into the lock of my front door. I slip off my shoes and socks, not wanting to track dirt into my pristine home, and leave them neatly arranged in a rack by the door. A quick check of my phone as I step into the entrance-way confirms that Christian is still hard at work. He's started his sexual conditioning now, and is on all fours bent over a fake pussy toy I had made by a specialist company with a focus on anatomical accuracy. A little rewiring of the internals and I've inserted pressure and heat sensors under the remarkably lifelike fake skin to measure how he's doing.

Since that little hiccup earlier, I can see he's putting in more effort now, forcing his face down into the sex toy and slavering his tongue over everything he can reach. Good work forced out of him by my disapproval won't earn him anything, so I slip the phone back into my pocket without adding any more rewards.

He has the rest of his day's work to finish, so I ignore the temptation to slip into the training room to observe or participate. That will come later. Instead, I move through into my kitchen and make myself a pot of green tea. Soon I'm sitting on my couch sipping at a hot mug. My laptop is open on my knees, and I have a trading platform open, buying and selling shares according to my own analysis of the markets.

When I moved out of my parents' lavish mansion, I was determined never to take another cent from them. Everything I own now is paid for by my own efforts, beyond a few childhood keepsakes. Day trading is one of the trickier ways I've found to make money, but I do enjoy the challenge. I'm always careful to bet only as much as I can afford to lose, which amounts to more and more as the small fortune in my bank account grows. 

With my trades in place, I move onto a university assignment I've been meaning to finish. The tapping of my fingers on the keys as I type is the only sound, the double-glazed windows and insulated walls shutting everything else out. For once, the quiet is actually bothering me. I pause, halfway through my assignment, and my gaze falls on the triple-locked door behind which my pet is still making himself better for me.

Another glance at my phone confirms that Christian is just starting his anal training. That makes the decision for me. Sweeping my laptop up under my arm, I walk over to the door and slip open all three locks. The door slides to one side and I step through just as my pet is filling his guts with the second of his three scheduled enemas.

He's in the position I proscribed for this activity. Next to the specially modified enema kit, on his knees with his face pressed against the floor and his adorable snow-white butt up in the air above his feet. A short plastic tube runs from the outlet of the kit and slips between his smooth, hairless cheeks. The nozzle is buried to the hilt in his tight little butthole, and he's already starting to sweat as warm water flows into his insides.

I take a step forward and his head flickers up, his big blue eyes finding my face. The fact that he still blushes, even after everything I've done to him, is one of the many things I adore about Christian. His cheeks flush scarlet, his pink lips already starting to tremble as I gaze down at him from the doorway.

Making no comment, I simply walk into the room, and step over to the comfortable chair and table I've placed against one wall for the times I decide I want to work while observing him. He winces as he realizes I'm going to be watching him humiliate himself today. As I flip open my laptop to keep working on my assignment a helpful chime from the enema kit informs us both that this cycle of water is finished.

He doesn't dare hesitate, not with me right there watching him. I stare down at him coolly as he reaches behind himself and gently the eases the lubricated nozzle out of his tiny butthole. It slips free and I can see the strain on his face as he struggles not to let any water escape. A drop or two I can forgive, but any more than that will earn him one of my harsher punishments.

Like the time a couple months back when he spilled almost the whole thing. I hung him by cuffs on his wrists to a hook in the ceiling, with just enough strain that his tip toes barely managed to touch the floor. Then I used the kit to cycle through a variety of enemas with different and amusing properties, with a butt plug to seal him up each time and ensure they had the full effect. Cold and hot were entertaining enough, but it was the spicy mix I added a trace amount of capascin to that really made him squirm and squeal. I found his helpless struggles as he dangled there so amusing that when I finally let him down to empty himself, I promptly dragged him straight back out of the bathroom and strung him up for another go. 

He struggles to his feet, his normally soft little belly bloated by the water pushing at his insides. I go back to my assignment as he squats up and down, getting some exercise while gravity and time ensure his guts are well cleaned. His little squeaks and pants provide an amusing soundtrack to my work and I find myself making far better progress than I did in the quiet of my living room. 

When my program informs him that enough time has passed, he lowers himself awkwardly back on all fours, wincing at his cramping guts. Then he crawls away to his little bathroom to empty himself. 

My cute little pet boy returns in exactly a minute looking rather haggard. There's a third enema still waiting for him, this one even larger than the other two, and I sit back to watch as he lowers himself into position to begin.

I continue working on my assignment, but keep an eye over the top of my laptop screen on Christian's progress. He's clearly anxious at my scrutiny, but tries his best, managing to hold the largest enema for the required time despite his moans and whimpers. He looks so adorable with his belly all taut and swollen that I consider pausing to have some fun with him. In the end I decide finishing his training is more important, but I make a note in his schedule to have a session soon where we'll both explore the possibilities.

Then it's time for him to practice getting fucked. He crawls over to the row of pink dildos stuck to the mirror, his cute cheeks flushed almost the same color as they are. I always make sure there's a well-filled bottle of lubricant here and he bends over to squirt a good amount around his little butthole. His blush darkens as he rubs it inside with a finger, and I notice a tell-tale shiver run down his spine. A year and a half of relentless prostate stimulation by my dildos, fingers and strapons have made that part of him very sensitive.

Now he has to lubricate the dildo, but I'm not so nice as to let him take the easy way out. Instead, I have him use his own saliva for this part. He crawls over to the long, pink cock the program has informed him he is to use this time. They're helpfully numbered to make it easier for him.

Craning his neck up he starts to lick around the head of the dildo, wetting his mouth and preparing the plastic cock to slip easier down first his throat and then his butthole. He has a time limit, and works quickly to get the sex toy deeper inside. That requires him to pump his head back and forth, forcing it further down the pink plastic each time. Soon he hits his gag reflex and I pause my work to enjoy the muffled coughing and choking.

Plus, I want to watch him closely for this part. It's often here he gets lazy and tries to wet the larger dildos by just licking them along the length from the side, when my instructions specifically state that he must get them all the way down his throat to properly lubricate. With my taste for ironic punishments, this has earned him multiple sessions of hard facefucking from one of my bigger strapons and a few days spent with a rather long penis gag shoved down his throat, only removed when he was eating me out or being fed.

My assignment set aside for a few minutes, I watch him work the pink dildo past his stretched lips. At last, he's hilted, his pretty face pressed against the mirror the sex toy's suction cup is anchored to. I smile faintly as pulling back triggers another round of helpless gagging. I don't require him to shove plastic cock down his throat and lovingly pleasure it with his tongue because I have any interest in sharing him with a real man. The thought repulses me. Instead it's simply because I enjoy watching the show. 

He lets the dildo drop from his lips, sticky strands of drool joining it to his trembling lips. Then he shuffles round on hands and knees, awkwardly trying to line it up with his butthole, his neck craned so he can see it slip inside his adorable bottom. He's focused on that, and seems to forget my scrutiny for a moment. It's only when he eases back with a sharp little whimper and I know the dildo has hit home that he glances up and sees me again.

His blush is volcanic. Those huge blue eyes, wet and limp are fixed on my face, anxious and ashamed. I just smile back. His lips start to tremble and he looks on the verge of tears as he realizes that I'm going to be watching him again humiliate himself in this most intimate way. Funny, when I consider how eager he can be to shove a plastic cock up his butt when he's doing this alone.

That shocked pause lasts just a little too long and I click my fingers sharply, pointing at the television now displaying the required amount of time he has left to spend with the dildo buried in his guts. A panicked squeal escapes his trembling lips, and he starts hurriedly bucking his hips back and forth. As he huffs and pants, trying to drive more of the plastic cock through his stretched sphincter, I glance at his training schedule, wondering whether that was worth adding another punishment. In the end, I decide to be generous and let it slide this time. After all, what I already have planned for his earlier naughtiness should be ample incentive for him to behave himself. 

I go back to my assignment, making rapid progress to the pleasing accompaniment of my pet's muffled whimpering. He tries to stifle any sound, still ashamed that I'm here to see him, but soon enough he's hitting his prostate and these delightfully girlish moans are escaping. I glance up to see his limbs are shaking and his back arched, thrusting his needy butthole up towards the waiting cock. There's a more desperate quality to the way he bucks his hips, guiding the dildo even deeper into his guts. He's never actually managed to cum this way, not with his straining dick still locked away in its little cage, but he's so desperate after all the months of denial that he's trying anyway.

I shift on my chair, feeling an insistent heat simmering between my legs. I adore this. The vulnerability of it. It doesn't matter how embarrassed he is, he just can't help himself from wriggling and squealing like a virgin girl when he's being fucked. It's something no-one else will ever see and better still, I orchestrated all of it. Every sharp squeak or breathy moan, every needy quiver passing down his spine as he drives the dildo deeper are happening at my whim. The end result of all my years of planning since I first met this pretty boy. The thought makes my pussy ache with longing and I start to wonder if my assignment can't wait a little longer.

In the end, I stay seated, clamping down on the insistent urge to pull down my jeans, mount his pretty face and ride it all the way to bliss. This is his training time. I can enjoy myself later. Part of owning such an enticing pet isn't just disciplining him, it's also controlling my own rampant desires. I have a very specific plan for him, and my own sexual satisfaction is only a part of the end goal. I go back to my assignment, reminding my needy body that the quicker I finish my work, the quicker I can start having fun with Christian.

With such a powerful incentive, I make rapid progress and finish up my writing within the next ten minutes. From there it's a simple matter of scanning the completed work and making some minor edits, to the delightful soundtrack of my pet's increasingly desperate moans and squeals. When I'm satisfied, I slip my laptop closed, just as the program he's following informs us both that he has another minute of anal training left.

This is something I want to watch, so I lean forward on my chair and let my hungry gaze enjoy a feast for the senses. Christian is still pounding himself back against the wall, his plump butt smacking the glass each time. His eyes are dull and glazed with pleasure, his pink tongue dangling free from his wet lips. He's clearly getting very tired, the way his legs and arms are trembling and his bucking hips are straining, but he's so desperate that he's putting all his energy into grinding the dildo against his needy prostate. Little dribbles of white pre-cum are leaking from the end of his cage, staining the floor beneath his bucking body. He can lick those up once he's done.

I smile to myself. Utterly denying him sexual release for so long while relentlessly teasing and edging him has had many amusing effects. I'm still not sure whether he's capable of cumming even in chastity from anal alone, but if he is, I'm going to find out very soon and then some adjustments will have to be made to make sure he never does again.

There's a sharp ring from the television speakers and my own recorded voice announces that this training session is complete. Christian blinks blearily, his foggy gaze flicking up to the screen that utterly controls this aspect of his life. He shakes his head slightly, biting hard on his lip. Good, he's not too out of it this time. There have been a couple sessions recently where he's gotten so hot and needy that he's kept pounding that dildo even after he's supposed to stop.

The last time I was so annoyed with him I tied him up like a frog and spent more than an hour teasing his nipples, butt and caged dick with a feather brush. It's one of the punishments he finds utterly unbearable, even more so than the painful ones. Just showing him the brush reduces him to tears and I have to gag him while I'm performing it to stop him begging and pleading for me to stop or just to let him cum.

I watch as he edges himself forward, whimpering softly. The dildo pops free of his greedy butthole, quivering a little in the air before settling back into place against the glass. He's not quite done yet though, and shuffles around on shivering arms and legs to lick the plastic cock clean. The repeated enemas make sure this isn't too nasty for him and I'll give it a proper wash later anyway, but I've trained him to have good habits. Sure enough, he also scans the floor and spots the dribbling his naughty dick has done. Lowering his head and shoulders to the ground, he licks it all up, only a slight tension in his shivering body betraying a lingering reluctance to taste his own secretions I'm hoping to cure him of soon enough.

He's done now, and the program informs him that if I'm not home yet he may have a short rest session in the doggy basket in the corner. Since I am though, it's time for him to greet me properly, with all the respect I am due as his Mistress.

I rise to my feet and fetch his collar from the hook on the wall, then step into the middle of the room, waiting there expectantly. He straightens up on his tired limbs and crawls to me, keeping his head bowed and his gaze on my legs. As soon as he's close enough, he lowers down and plants a gentle kiss on top of my bare foot. I smile thinly as his lips meet my skin. He bucks back up and does the other side as well, this kiss just as tender and lingering as the first one. Exactly how I taught him.

"Sit." I snap. It's the first word I've spoken to him today. He hurriedly bucks back up onto his feet, his knees bent so that his adorable butt is down by the floor. Both his arms are placed between his legs, palms flat, and his head is up, eyes on my face. This position is designed to look like a puppy sitting eagerly for his Mistress, and I have to admit the resemblance is uncanny. To add to the delightful effect, I lean down and fasten his collar back where it belongs around his pale throat. Normal rules from now on. If he even tries to get back on two legs, he'll have a long and painful appointment with my extensive collection of whips and canes. 

He's panting hotly, the furious blush spreading to his ears from more than just embarrassment. I just adore the way those big blue eyes stare up at me from his place grovelling on the floor. They're wet and glistening with fresh tears of hot shame but trembling all the same with desperate need.

As much as I long to drag his pretty face between my legs or bend him over for a good, hard session with one of my strapons, I can recognize the signs of exhaustion in his dull gaze and trembling posture. I turn and click my fingers, striding out of the training room with him crawling tiredly after me. Instead of making him do anything more straining, I walk back to the couch and sit down, then point at his place near my feet. He lets out a relieved sigh and shuffles over, lowering himself awkwardly on to the soft carpet. Shivering and panting, he curls up around his trembling torso, his legs and arms tucked in cutely like a sleeping puppy.

I sit back, giving his resting body a lingering and rather hungry stare. My own needs must wait. Part of training him so harshly means making sacrifices like this. I'm careful not to push him so hard that he breaks, either physically or mentally. It's a delicate balance sometimes, and more than once I know I've taken him to very brink of utter despair. That's why the kind things I do for him are so important. They give him something to hope for and look forward to. A reason to try his hardest for me that isn't just fear of punishment.

Leaning over, I gently run a hand up and down his shivering back. His exhausted muscles tense and tremble underneath my caress, but I keep going until I feel him start to relax. It still shocks me sometimes how small and delicate he is. The slenderness of his back and shoulders, how smooth and soft his skin feels under my hand. The fact that he's mine, to do anything with I please makes me so very happy.

He's mine, just the thought sends shivers of delight down my spine. This gorgeous, fragile creature I own, in every way a pet can be owned. The pride of my life and the one thing I care about in all this dirty, wretched world. Even his obvious exhaustion fills me with warm feelings. There was that one naughty little slip he'll pay for soon, but otherwise he did his very best for me today. 

"Good boy." I purr, my voice trembling slightly. He stiffens, surprise flickering over his face. To calm him, I run my hand up to his neck, scratching gently at the soft skin of his nape. He knows he can't afford to sniff at my kindness and relaxes back, sighing softly as I massage away the knots of tension in his muscles. When I rub a gentle finger up towards his cute little ears he turns his head, his weary gaze finding my face. I smile down at him and scratch around his neck, enjoying his contented little shivers under my hand. 

I realize suddenly that he's gazing up at me with that same limp, longing stare as this morning. There's no fear or tension in his slender body. Even though he's utterly exhausted by my hard training he seems almost happy to be lying there at my feet with my hand in his hair. It's a little unexpected that he can relax so much around his strict Mistress, but it doesn't worry me, even if I make a mental note to record this new development in his training diary. The fact that he can set aside my cruelty to him and manage to enjoy these tender moments actually makes me feel rather good. 

Such big, beautiful eyes he has, I find myself thinking as he stares limply up at me, with those long, girly lashes to frame them. They were one of the first things I noticed about him all those months ago. Now I've seen them full of tears, glazed over with lust and shining with relief when a punishment is over they seem even more gorgeous. Everything about him does. It's like each day I own him I find new things to enjoy about my Christian.

He'll still need some time to recover, so I rise from the couch and go to the kitchen to fetch his bowl. After I fill it up with cold water from the sink, I lay it down gently next to his head, then point at it to allow him permission to drink. He gives me a cute little relieved look and edges forward, bending his head over the rim. I watch with a smile as he lowers his lips to the water and starts lapping it up like a dog. He's got much better at this since I started training his tongue. When he's swallowed down a good amount, he straightens, glancing up at me from his place on the floor when he notices I'm still watching him.

"Stay." I snap, pointing down. He lowers himself to the carpet on his belly to let me know he understands the instruction. Leaving him there to rest, I walk back into my bedroom.

My pet has had his chance to train his body. Now it's my turn. I can put my simmering sexual frustration into my lifts, get nice and hot and horny while he rests, then when I return I can finally sate this aching need. I promise myself It'll be all the sweeter when I finally do get his tongue back between my legs.

Standing in front of the mirror in my bedroom, I strip out of my clothes. In just a pair of light panties, I take the chance to admire my well-toned body. I'm as strict and unforgiving in my own exercise regime as I am with his, only I train myself for strength and stamina, and make sure the results definitely show. My thighs are hard and muscular, my abs showing nicely through the skin of my slender waist.

With a nod of satisfaction, I pull on my exercise gear, a black sports bra, gym shorts and a light tank top, along with some finger-less gloves. The outfit bares most of my long toned legs and muscular shoulders. I'm not showing off, not exactly, but I enjoy being able to look in the mirror while exercising to see what all my hard work has earned me. A quick trip to the bathroom where I wash off most of my makeup and I'm ready to leave.

I stride back into the living room to find Christian lying curled up at the foot of the couch exactly where I told him to stay. Those pretty blue eyes flicker up and down my muscular body, and I see a little shiver of lust run down his naked back. Ah, so he likes this outfit? Perhaps I should make sure one of his rewards involves it. That can wait until this evening, when I'll punish him as well. For now, I need to get him settled.

He stares anxiously when he realizes I'm heading to the box in the corner where I keep some of the toys I use on him. He needn't be so scared. Instead of ropes or whips, all I pull out is his pretty pink leash, and then another dildo for him to practice oral on. I step back over to him and reach down under his chin, clipping the lead to the front of his collar. The other end is tied neatly to a convenient hook on the wall. I'm not worried about him doing anything silly, but the length of the leash is useful to mark out an area he's not to stray from while I'm away.

Once he's secured, I crouch down next to him, holding the dildo in one hand. His gaze lingers on my muscled legs, up over my waist and boobs and then anxiously settles on my face, like he doesn't know where to look. Funny how he's seen me naked almost every night for the past year and a half, yet dressing up like this still has him all quivering and needy.

 I place the dildo down next to his mouth. He stares gingerly at it, understanding what I want without the need for words. He knows he can rest and drink, but some time in the next hour that plastic cock had better end up buried to the hilt in his sweet throat or else he'll be facing another harsh punishment this evening. I switch on the camera on the mantle and set it to record him just to make sure, feeling his naughty gaze tingling on my legs and ass as I bend over. That anal training has him really stirred up today. A shame he's too tired for me to play with right now, but it shouldn't be too hard to get him back to this needy state.

I grin again at how cute my darling pet is, then walk to the entrance-way to pull on a pair of comfortable trainers. Ready at last, I head out the door, locking it tight behind me to make sure Christian is kept safe inside. Almost everything I own is just stuff, easily replaced, but not him. If he ever got lost, even for just a day, I think I'd go insane with worry.

With a sharp sigh, I turn down the corridor, heading to the private gym on the floor above of my apartment complex. Another reason I chose this place. It has all the equipment I need and means I don't have to risk the stink of sweat and ogling eyes in the university sports center. 

An hour later, I emerge feeling exhausted but happy with my efforts. The pleasant burning in my biceps and chest is all the more satisfying after hitting another personal best on the bench. The one annoyance was that neanderthal who approached me halfway through a set and started trying to give me useless and unwanted advice. His true intentions were as transparent as the stares he gave my ass and tits.

When he started going off on some ridiculous speech about the importance of motivation, I considered demonstrating on him just how I motivate Christian to perform during his own exercises. The thought of the oaf screaming and thrashing in agony was a pleasant enough one, but it utterly lacked the same white-hot urgency as my fantasies about my cute little pet. So I merely made it very clear how disinterested I was in the irritating gym-rat and let him skulk away. Just as I've always known, there's no-one in the world for me but Christian.

There was an eagerness to my steps as I hurried back down the corridor to my apartment. Hard exercise has always made me feel frisky, and I was already hot and bothered even before I made it to the gym. I can't wait to spend the rest of the afternoon enjoying my pet's tender attentions before I move on to this evening and it's punishment time.

I slip open my door and step inside, pausing only to leave my shoes and socks on the rack. As I stride back into the living room, Christian's head snaps up to find me. He's sitting awkwardly in his puppy position by the couch, fidgeting and pulling at the leash. I stiffen, knowing at once that something's wrong.

As I step closer, he falls onto his knees, his back straight as a rod and his head up. His arms slip to his sides, elbows bent up and hands flopping down from the wrist. He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, far as it can go. Another position I taught him, this one I named beg. He's to use it only when he needs something from me. Of course it's up to me to decide to respond or not, but by the strain on his face he's quite desperate this time.

"What is it?" I ask carefully. He rolls onto his side and cocks his leg up, like a male dog against a tree. I smile to myself as I understand. He needs to pee. A quick check of his water bowl reveals the reason why. He's drunk almost the whole thing while I was away. What did he think was going to happen when all that liquid made it through his body to his little bladder? Sometimes he's so silly it makes me laugh.

Before I answer his adorable begging, I quickly check if he was good while I was gone. The dildo is slathered with his saliva from to to bottom, so he's clearly spent some time sucking on it like I wanted. I consider teasing him a little by ignoring his request even longer, but he looks so cute shivering there with his leg cocked up that I decide to be nice.

Reaching down to his collar I unclip the leash, then click my fingers and let him follow me back into my bedroom. There's a place for him to go in the bathroom and I stand there to watch as he squats awkwardly over his little toilet. The chastity cage makes peeing a little difficult for him, but he manages, letting out several gasping breaths of relief as he empties his swollen bladder. Poor silly pet!

He shakes his hips as soon as he's done, letting the last few droplets dribble out of the hole at the end of his cage. I do miss the days when he was ever so embarrassed relieving himself in front of me. The way he used to blush and wriggle while pee tinkled out of his cage, staring up at me with adorable pleading eyes. Ah well, I suppose it's inevitable he get used to some of the things I do to him. I can always find new ways to humiliate him. 

Standing over him in the bathroom then I realize that I can't wait any longer. The burning between my legs demands the soothing touch of my pet's tongue. I turn and stride back to my bed, with him crawling behind me.

"Up." I snap, patting the blankets. A little shiver runs down his spine as he realizes what's about to happen. He crawls to the end of the bed, then uses his hands to clamber awkwardly up onto it without ever rising to his feet. As he waits there on all fours, staring at me over his shoulder with his adorable butt in the air, I head over to one of the cupboards and pull out three pairs of leather cuffs, each set joined by a length of chain. I advance on him, holding them up and enjoying the pitiful look in his eyes. After all this time, you think he'd be used to my penchant for bondage. "Play position." I order him sharply.

Christian collapses on to the bed and rolls over, lying on his back on top of my soft blankets. His thighs are spread as wide as he can, his knees bent and feet tucked in so that they rest over his legs close to his butt. He tucks his elbows in too, flopping his wrists. A dog on its back in a submissive posture, that was the idea I had in mind when I taught him this position and he makes it look so adorable too.

I step over to start tying him up. He lies still, limp and quiet, as I fasten one leather cuff round each elbow, then the other in that pair round the ankle on the same side. With the chains joining them, his arms and legs are pinned where they are. The final set of cuffs I close round his wrists and clip the chain between them to the front of his collar. Now he can't move his hands away from where they should be up by his neck. I know he'd keep himself in position as long as I ordered him to, but I prefer the helplessness of making sure he can't even twitch

Satisfied, I step back to admire my work. He looks so very beautiful all trussed up like this and I find I can't resist the temptation to get my camera out of the cupboard. I snap a few pictures of him lying there, making sure to capture the sorry way he stares at me with his neck craned up from the bed. The best one will end up printed out and placed in my scrapbook, a carefully arranged record I've made of our time together going all the way back to those early days. 

Now, at last, I can satisfy myself. Standing at the foot of the bed and looming over him, I shrug out of my gym shorts and panties. I'm too fastidious to leave them lying on the floor no matter my increasingly desperate need, and I fold them neatly and place them in my hamper to be washed. The cool air of my bedroom is rather nice on my wet, aching pussy, but I know what will feel even better. Christian's sweet little tongue.

I rise on to the bed beside him, my gaze drifting hungrily over his naked, vulnerable body. One of my muscled legs slips to the other side of his naked torso and I kneel over him, my weight on the bed. His gaze flickers down my body, settling on my waiting pussy and he swallows, a faint blush on his cheeks.

For a moment I just stay there, savoring this moment of anticipation before the blissful release to come. Then I edge forward and sit on his pretty face, my aching cunt placed right over his lips.

"Lick." I snap. He was ready for my order and doesn't hesitate even an instant. A hoarse moan of trembling relief escapes my lips as finally I feel the hot flutter of his tongue across my flesh. I've spent hours and hours training him how to satisfy me and all that work has had spectacular results. He knows immediately that I'm looking for a short, sharp release to take the edge off my arousal and he burrows his face between my legs, his tongue working to part my labia and dive inside my aching pussy. My clit is throbbing hot, hard as a diamond, and when he finds it with his lips I let out a sharp gasp.

He works that aching nub of flesh with his lips and tongue and I feel heat pulsing through my core. It takes only minutes of his talented mouth before I bite my lip hard as the orgasm sweeps over me, a wave of blissful release that makes my legs tremble. I buck my hips, rubbing my throbbing pussy over his nose and lips, riding that high as long as I can. His tongue keeps licking all the while, fluttering over the sensitive sliver of skin between my cunt and asshole.

I'm never satisfied with just one orgasm from my sweet pet, but I do like to change things up. I swing my leg over and shuffle round on the bed, so that I'm facing down his body instead. He's splayed out in front of me, bound and helpless. His pretty body is mine to do with as I please. Smirking to myself, I sit back on top of his face, putting rather more of my weight down this time.

Christian's head is pressed into the bed underneath my ass. His lips are still centered on my aching pussy and I sigh with delight when I feel his tongue get straight back to work like the good well-trained boy he is. His nose is between my firm, muscled buttocks, the slight pressure against my asshole adding even more pleasure to his eager licking of my cunt.

While he laps away, tonguing my pussy with all the enthusiasm I've trained into him, I reach down to play with his gorgeous body. My fingers quickly find his pink nipples and he lets out a sharp gasp when I rub them firmly in my grip. They're very sensitive, and I make sure to keep them that way with plenty of teasing and clamping. Now I take full advantage, rubbing and squeezing until I feel the little nubs stiffen in my grip.

Christian wriggles a little underneath me, his hands fluttering where they're tied by his collar. His hips buck against the bed, pulling on the bonds round his ankles. His little dick can't help but respond to my teasing caresses, but trapped inside that cute pink cage it has nowhere to go. His pained wriggles and gasps let me know just how uncomfortable that must be. 

Showing no mercy, I rub his cute nipples rather harder, pinching and tweaking them with just enough pressure to make him squirm. He's panting into my pussy, his gasping breaths tingling on my flesh. His body is starting to flush and shiver with desire. It's so easy to get him all hot and bothered just from a little playful teasing. That's exactly why I adore denying his orgasms so very much. He's never cuter than when I hold him on that torturous edge, taking him to the very brink of cumming then yanking it all away. Just thinking about the way he cries and thrashes, begging me with everything he has, sends me tumbling over the edge of another sharp climax. I gasp out in pleasure, but when the heat flooding my core ebbs away I'm left even hungrier and my hands on his nipples go straight back to work. 

After rather more teasing, those little pink nubs are really stiff between my fingers and achingly sensitive. As his tongue works frantically to please my pussy, I feel a vicious urge well up inside me and dig my nails hard into that tender flesh. 

He screams into my cunt, thrashing and bucking. His hands and feet pull desperately at the chains, but there's no slack and he's utterly helpless. All this frantic squirming feels rather good. I relax and enjoy the ride, twisting his nipples in my vicious grip and digging my nails even deeper. Another desperate shriek makes my aching pussy throb just from the sound, but the way his mouth works on my flesh as he gasps for air feels amazing too.

He's getting lazy now, selfishly focused on the pain I'm inflicting instead of pleasing his Mistress. As punishment I sit back, putting almost all my weight over his face. With my cunt on his mouth and his nose buried between my buttocks, he's quickly struggling for breath. He's a smart enough boy, and realizes what I want from him. I moan in hot delight as his tongue goes back to what it should have always been focusing on, licking my pussy to another orgasm or three.

I buck up just a little to give him space to breathe, then moan in delight as his tongue finds my clit. With just a little more pressure there another white-hot climax sweeps over me, strong enough to make my legs buckle. Fuck, he's got so good at this! My hands slip from his body and tear the tank top from my shoulders, tossing it aside. The sports bra follows moments later and I shudder in relief as my aching breasts are freed. I grab them both in my hands, cupping and squeezing as they throb and ache with the waves of pleasure searing up my core.

Naked above him now I bite my lip hard, my whole body trembling as that amazing orgasm ebbs away. His tongue flutters on the skin of my terribly sensitive pussy. I've trained him exactly how I like to be brought down from climax, and he licks me just hard enough to send fresh crackling aftershocks through my aching flesh, easing off as time goes on until all I'm left with is a warm, satisfying glow that seems to fill me entirely. 

After an orgasm like that, I'm way too sensitive to continue. I roll off my pet's body, collapsing onto the bed in a sweaty heap. Beside me, he lies there, twitching in his strict bondage, with tears glistening on his pretty cheeks. After a moment to recover my senses, I raise my head and gaze at him through a haze of satisfaction. My cute little Christian. All mine. 

I lie limp on the bed, taking long, even breaths as my body recovers from the intensity of that orgasm. Before I took Christian for my own I'd never imagined climax could feel this way, like I was losing sight of who I even was in the waves of pleasure searing through my core. It ended up a very pleasant surprise the first time I felt his tongue in my pussy. That very first orgasm, after all the months of waiting, knocked me on the floor and left me limp and gasping for hours afterwards.

At last though, my usual dislike for idleness intrudes and I stir, sitting myself up on the bed beside my limp, bound pet. He's still sniffling, tears dribbling down his smooth cheeks. His lips and chin are glistening wet with my juices. After all that cunnilingus and exercise, both of us are rather sweaty too. I need a shower, and he can get his daily grooming at the same time.

I reach over his body and uncuff his hands first. He stares anxiously at me while I free his arms and legs too, gathering up all the leather cuffs. Without permission to move, he stays in that same adorable submissive posture, lips trembling, as I slip off the end of my bed and put everything away where I found it. Then I turn back and stand over him.

He's looking rather delicate right now, so I resist the urge to smack him to get him up. Instead I just click my fingers sharply in front of his nose, then point at the floor at the foot of my bed. Sniffling, he rolls over onto his tummy and crawls awkwardly forward, using his hands first to ease his body back onto the floor where he belongs.

I stride back to my bathroom, with him following at my heels. The apartment's shower is nice and big, enough space for both of us to fit. I slide open the glass door and step inside, pointing at the corner. He obeys quickly, crawling after me and then getting up on his haunches where I told him, his back pressed tight against the walls. He's shivering, his big, blue eyes wide and nervous.

I ignore his distress and turn on the taps, sighing with relief as the warm spray of my power shower hits me in the chest. For a minute or so I just stand there and let the water wash away the sweat of my exertions. As I turn and preen under the warm spray, my pet flinches back when a few colder droplets bounce off my body and hit him in the face. I smile at his cuteness, but I'm not planning to let him just sit there idle while I bathe.

Another sharp click of my fingers makes him stiffen. I reach back and point at my ass. Long gone are the days when he showed reluctance to pleasure any part of my body. He shuffles forward on hands and knees and kneels right behind me, his hands clasping each other in the small of his back. I bend my knees to let him reach and he presses his pretty face with every appearance of eagerness between my tight, muscled buttocks. His tongue is already out and flickering over the sensitive skin of my crack, making me sigh with pleasure.

I buck down a little lower and he finds my asshole. First he licks around it, teasing at the ring of muscle as his head moves up and down. Enjoying the attention, I reach up and find my body wash and shampoo. While he makes out with my ass like a horny teenager sucking face, I rub soap into my sweaty body, cleaning my pits and breasts. I savor the little tingles his eager licking stirs inside my belly.

While I wash my hair, his talented tongue forms a little spear and thrusts inside my now-relaxed hole. My toes curl and a hungry moan escapes my lips. Even after that amazing orgasm just minutes ago, his tender attention on my asshole has me simmering with arousal once again. It isn't just the physical pleasure that makes me enjoy having him rim me so much. The dominant delight of knowing my pet will eagerly tongue even that part of me adds something special to the act.

My hand reaches down behind me and grabs him firmly by the hair. I pull him forward, pressing him harder into my muscled buttocks. He steadies himself without stopping for even a moment, his tongue stroking the insides of my pulsing asshole. He's eager, enthusiastic even. His distress has been set aside, and he's focused almost entirely on pleasing his Mistress. That's something I know can't be trained and it tells me just how special Christian really is. I press myself down, melting into the slow rhythm of tonguing my pet has established.

I don't want to orgasm again just yet, deciding to save my stamina for later this evening. So at last I let him go and step away. He almost falls forward, still pursuing my ass with his tongue outstretched. When he straightens, he's blushing pink and his lips are curled into a cute little pout. Did he want more of that? Too bad. Only I decide when he gets to taste me. Smiling to myself at just how much progress he's made, I reach up and turn off the shower.

"Groom." I snap, pointing at the tiled floor. He lowers himself forward into another position I taught him, on all fours with arms and legs spread wide enough for me to reach every part of him. His head is up, and he stares ahead of him, shivering a little in the cool air as water droplets glisten on his pale skin.

I step out of the shower and dry myself with a towel, knowing he'll stay there like that as long as I want him to. Taking advantage of that, I get dressed first, pulling on just a white t-shirt over my bare breasts and a pair of comfortable shorts. Then I fetch my grooming kit from the cupboard in the bathroom, a waterproof plastic case filled with all the implements I need to get him good and washed. I step back into the wet shower to join him, ready to begin. He's still shivering, but there's a small smile on his face as I pull the showerhead down from the wall and crouch down beside him.

Grooming is one of the things he's learnt to enjoy about his new life. I usually pamper him a little, provided he hasn't been naughty. Turning on the spray, I hold my hand under the water until it's nice and warm, then let it play over his pale back. He sighs softly, but stays in position as I wet his skin from head to adorable bubble-butt. Then I reach into the case and pull out a stiff, long-handled brush. I have a number of scented soaps and shampoos I use on him, and settle on a pleasant strawberry one this time. It'll keep him smelling sweet for the rest of the day.

Soon the brush is rubbing a bubbly lather into the skin of his back, guided gently by my hand. He wiggles his hips as I wash around the adorable dimples just above his bottom. I smile at his eagerness, and reach over to run my other hand through his wet hair.

"Good boy." I purr, and he shivers with delight at my praise. I wash the rest of him, sliding the brush under his tummy to reach his belly and chest. He winces a little when the hard bristles scratch over his still-sensitive nipples, and I use my other hand to gently rub his back to distract him from the pain. It isn't an apology for what I did to him and he knows that, but he still takes comfort from the gesture.

With his body soaped and washed, I set the brush aside and squeeze some strawberry shampoo onto my hands. I lean over his head and rub it into his scalp, massaging the skin under his smooth, blonde hair. He stays still, relaxing into my tender attentions. It's a funny contrast, these two sides of our odd relationship. Right now I'm so gentle and kind with him, the way I'd never be with anyone in my life. Then there's the rest of the time, where I indulge all my cruelest desires. Even then, I'm showing him another part of me that no-one else has ever seen. The sadistic Mistress who takes pleasure in his pain.

I straighten, washing the last of the shampoo from his hair and my hands. There's one more place I need to wash, and he won't enjoy this part as much.

"Kneel." I order, and his face falls as he realizes what's about to happen to him now.

Soon Christian is kneeling on the bathroom floor in front of me, trembling with anxious anticipation. I've rubbed him down with a towel first, so he's reasonably dry. There's a black leather blindfold fastened tightly round his head and his hands are held behind his back in a pair of metal cuffs. I'm crouching over him, holding in my hand a small silver key, the one thing which opens the lock on the pink chastity cage fastened to his dick.

Even after all the obedience training I've done on him, I'm still not sure I could trust him if I ever left him alone in a room with it. That's exactly why I'm so strict about taking his cage off to wash him. When he's not handcuffed and blindfolded, this key stays locked away in a safe by my bed under a six-digit combination. It's not likely I'd forget after grooming and leave it somewhere he could find, but I still won't risk him getting his hands on it and spoiling all my hard work.

I lean over and slot the key into the small padlock holding his cage together. He shivers just from the sound, an anxious little whimper escaping his lips. The chastity opens out into two parts, the solid plastic cage that contains his dick and a ring that slots over his tiny balls holding it all against his body. I pull them both away and lay them to one side, to be washed as well.

His tiny dick is soft, hanging there limp and shriveled over his small, hairless balls. It's covered in foreskin, even the little pink head hidden away. I've always find it rather cute and girly, a far cry from the ugly, veiny things I've seen in the hardcore bdsm pornography I sometimes watch for ideas on what to do to him. That doesn't mean I want it out of the cage though, not when I know he'd be tugging on it whenever I turned my back.

I wet my hands and soap them with the same strawberry wash. Then I reach between his legs. It's easier to clean him if he's hard, but I'm not going to deliberately pleasure that part of him and risk an accidental spurt. Instead I start with his balls, cupping them in one hand and rubbing my fingers over that smooth skin. They're hot and swollen from months of denial, but still only as small as grapes, pressing tight against his hairless little scrotum. Mt other hand reaches underneath him, and I slide a finger between his soft, plump buttocks. He shivers, a hoarse little gasp escaping his lips. He's so tense, knowing what he's going to suffer soon enough.

I find his little wrinkled butthole and rub it with my finger. His dick twitches, already starting to stiffen. Just to make sure, I press my fingertip hard against that tender ring of muscle. There's a moment's resistance from his tight, anxious sphincter, then my digit plunges deep inside him. He squeals in shock, bucking up towards my body. I ignore his helpless struggles, driving my finger deeper into that warm passage until I find the rougher patch of his tender little prostate. By the time I touch it, he's at full erection. There's not much difference hard to soft, except that his foreskin has rolled back, to reveal a little pink head about the size of my thumb. I was ever so pleased to discover his dick was as cute and girly as the rest of him back when I cut his clothes off his body that very first time.

I pop my finger free and wash it clean with a little water. Releasing his little balls, I reach over them and take his stiff erection in a light grip between two fingers. He moans and wriggles, and I can feel his hot skin throbbing with need. Just a little stimulation, and I know he'll dribble watery cum on my hand. An outcome I will make absolutely certain to avoid.

The key is to make everything so light and gentle his little dick just can't quite make it over that sticky edge. If I try being rough instead, like spraying him down with cold water, I know from bitter experience that way can shock him to orgasm regardless. So, I gather up a little lukewarm water in my hand and dribble it over his swollen pink head. He bites his lip, his hips bucking forward. I rub a little lather of soap between my fingers, then take his dick in a gentle grip, letting the bubbly water flow down his shaft.

His head is the part I have to be most careful with. I won't even risk touching it with my fingers. Instead, I reach into his grooming kit and find a thin brush, with fine, ghostly bristles. It's so soft he'll hardly feel it, even on that most sensitive area. I pull his foreskin further back with one hand, dragging it down until every part of him is exposed. He gasps out, wriggling a little in the handcuffs. The brush descends and I start to gently wash the newly exposed areas. He's biting his lip, shivering each time the thin bristles ghost over sensitive skin. Little yips and moans escape between his teeth, each plaintive sound trembling with agonizing need. I rather wish I could extend this torment for him over hours of amusement, but there's just too much risk of accidentally bringing him to orgasm.

As soon as he's clean, I withdraw the brush. Then I lean over and blow on his dick, drying it down with my own hot breath. He's biting his lip so hard I think he might have drawn blood, panting and thrusting his hips towards my mouth. When I straighten, his little dick is harder than I've ever seen it, standing out straight as an arrow towards his soft belly. It looks so hot and swollen and cute that I sigh with longing. He's still bucking his hips, thrusting it through the empty air. Tears of longing wet the blindfold, dribbling down his cheeks.

I grab the empty chastity cage and move to the sink, eager to wash it quickly so I can get it back on. A little hot water and I scrub it vigorously down with soap, then make sure its dry with a towel. He won't fit inside it when he's as hard as this, so I fetch an ice pack I have stored under the sink. He squeals out, almost a scream of frustration, when I press it against the base of his dick. Still throbbing hotly, his cute little pink cock shrinks and shrivels.

Very carefully, I place the cage back on, slipping the ring first over his tiny, swollen balls and then guiding his head back into the cage part. His pink lips are drawn tight with frustration as he feels the cold plastic close over his poor little dick. Then I slip the padlock on and clip it shut. Christian winces at the clicking sound, well aware that it's going to stay strictly fastened on until tomorrow when I'll wash him again. More days of agony and need stretching out in front of him, all without hope of ending. I shiver at the thought, feeling a wet ache in my pussy. It was such an inspired idea to start controlling his orgasms so strictly. I don't have much use for his dick, so all the better to lock it away and use it only to torment him like this.

In spite of all the depraved sexual acts I've performed on him, we're both still virgins in the strictest sense. I had him spill all his secrets the day I bought him, including that he'd never had a woman even lay a hand on him before. As for me, just the thought of penetration, giving that much power over my body to a worthless male, makes me want to vomit. His tongue is good enough for me, and the special strapons I wear which usually manage to wring a few good orgasms out of me when I'm bending him over and pounding his prostate. 

As for Christian, this cute little dick is going to stay locked up for the rest of his life. I already know I'm never letting him go, not after all the work I've put into training him, and so long as he's mine he'll be wearing my cage.

My poor pet is rather drained after all that edging, so when I've taken off his cuffs and blindfold, I let him follow me back into the living room and rest by my feet while I get some light reading done. Little shivers run down his spine, and he has a cute, miserable look on his pretty face. It's amusing enough to look at, but when I punish him later I want him to have rather more energy to react.

I find myself growing bored with my book and ease it shut on my lap. Christian needs a distraction to get him perky again and I have just the idea. I step over him, clicking my fingers, and let him follow me back through into his training room. He's anxious and afraid to be back in here so soon, especially when he sees me walking over to one particular cupboard against the far wall.

I slide it open to reveal a small collection of tailed butt plugs. Two of them the fur is long and brushy, meant to resemble a dog's hindquarters, while the third is more like a curved, black reed, a cat's. Finally, there's a rather fetching white and orange one, a fox's colors. Each plug has a matching pair of animal ears on a headband. When my pet wears any one of these, I require him to act like the beast in question. Like the dog, playful and affectionate, which I often have him wear when I want to enjoy something more active with him, or the cat for lazier days, when I have him resting his head in my lap and rubbing against my legs.

Finally, his least favorite and my preferred choice, the naughty little fox. It's rare I get a chance to use this one. Sometimes nice and early on the weekends I'll leash him up and pull him down to my car, where he gets the back seat and a blanket to lie on while I drive. Then I'll take him somewhere empty and wild, like the forest just outside town. He gets to wear his foxy toys and I play the huntress, usually appropriately dressed in riding boots and a bright red jacket. I let him go to scamper away as fast as he can, then after a little while I make my pursuit. He has sufficient incentive to stay away in the form of some particularly nasty punishments when I do run him down. He's never managed to keep away from me for more than ten minutes, so I usually have to play multiple times, leading to even more pain and misery for my poor naughty fox. Like last time, where I cut some stinging nettles and rubbed them all over his sensitive balls. He was whimpering in pain for hours afterwards.

Today can't be that fun unfortunately. There just isn't enough time. I reach into the cupboard and pick out one of the doggy plugs instead, the fur brown and sleek while the tapered plug is pink. The matching ears are pointed like a German shepherd's, though my meek little puppy hardly compares to a proud guard dog. I turn on him with a smile.

"Present." I snap. He reacts without hesitation, scurrying round and lowering his face to the floor. His adorable bubble butt hovers up above his bare feet, his perfect cheeks smooth and pale as snow. I crouch down beside him and drizzle some lube over the plug of his tail. With a hand, I grab one of his soft buttocks and pull it to one side, revealing his cute little butthole.

I regularly bleach that part of him, so the skin around is pink and clean, making it look that much more like a pretty hole for fucking. As I wipe the thinner end of the plug up and down his crack, smearing it with lube, it winks and pulses like its eagerly trying to suck something inside. I oblige my greedy pet and press the tapered end against that tight little hole. The thin part goes in easily enough and he lets out a sharp little gasp. Then it's a simple matter of working the plug deeper, twisting it and pushing it until his well-trained butthole opens for the widest part, then snaps shut around the head, strangling the plastic. Just to make sure it's firmly nestled inside him, I give the end of his tail a little tug. He squeals sharply at the sudden pressure, but the plug stays in place.

Satisfied, I slip the headband over his hair. Now he's my doggy, and he'd better act like one too.

I rise to my feet and click my fingers, letting him slip out of his strict position. He's in dog mode now, and instantly starts wagging his tail, moving his hips from side to side in a rather adorable way. When I lower my hand in front of his face, he nuzzles at my palm and starts licking my fingers. Such a good, well-trained puppy I have.

"Sit." I order him, and he immediately plants his cute butt on the floor, the tail flicking out underneath him. Satisfied, I turn back to my cupboards and run my hands over the fun toys and games I have for playing puppy. The shock collar, the rawhide bones, the rope for tug of war. In the end, I decide to go for for something simple today. Just a tennis ball. He perks up when he sees it, knowing I'll accept nothing less than absolute enthusiasm from my playful doggy.

I hold the ball up in front of him. The way I've trained him to act is just adorable, sitting in place but twitching and wagging his hips and tail underneath him like a puppy that's obedient but ever so desperate to play. His huge blue eyes follow the tennis ball everywhere I move it, his brow furrowed in concentration. There's no hint of reluctance or embarrassment, not anymore. He's accepted that this is something I force on him, and that has given him the freedom to embrace his doggy nature, even enjoy it. All it took was a few months of hard training, where good puppy behavior earned him treats and rewards, whereas anything else resulted in harsh punishment. I forced him to come up with his own ideas on how to act the dog, then conditioned him to love them with rare generosity every time he thought up some new way to act the dumb animal. It's worked remarkably well. 

"Fetch." I say, tossing the ball across the room. He scampers off on all fours like a rocket as the tennis ball bounces away. I watch with a smile on my face as he catches it, pawing at the ball with his hands before leaning down to grab it in his teeth. He brings it back to me and drops it at my feet, staring up at me with eager, blue eyes. As I bend down and throw again, I feel a deep satisfaction, just knowing this is possible thanks to all my hard work.

My enjoyment of the simple game is multi-layered, like so many parts of my relationship with Christian. There's the simpler pleasure of just watching such a pretty thing scamper back and forth, eager to play my game. Then there's the far deeper parts, the things that make my skin tingle and my pussy ache. 

I made this of him. Took a boy who walked and talked and made decisions for himself, and I turned him into this fawning creature who's entirely mine. Every time he wags his pretty tail, or pants with his tongue out, that simple fact pulses through me, leaving a deep, wet need inside that I know I'll soon sate on his slender body.

I toss the ball for him for about half an hour, pausing every now and then to let him sit and rest by my leg. My hand scratches and rubs at his ears during those times, and he presses up into my palm, taking the simple pleasure he can from the human contact. He's clearly recovered from his moping earlier, even if I sometimes see him wince and tremble when his needy cock stirs again in its little cage.

That's good, because a quick glance at my watch reveals it's almost six-thirty in the evening, time for both of us to have our evening meal. 

About thirty minutes later, I'm serving myself a plate of chicken and vegetable curry, steaming-hot. Beside me on the counter, my pet's bowl is full of a blended mixture of boiled meat, diced carrot and broccoli, with some vitamin powder added as well. If he's been good for the day, I allow his evening meal to have a little more variety than the usual dry pellets, even if the blending makes sure it still doesn't resemble anything approaching proper food.

Christian is sitting obediently in his puppy position by my chair, and I smile down at him as I turn to set the table. He stares back at me with eager eyes, clearly hungry after his hard day of exercise. I place his bowl down in front of him, and then fetch my own plate.

This time I don't bother with teasing him, and just point at his meal as I sit down with my own. Soon, we're both eating together. Me, taking small mouthfuls of delicious curry with my knife and fork, and my pet buried face-first in the blended mush, licking it hungrily from his bowl. It's a contrast I very much enjoy.

He finishes before me, eagerly cleaning the last of his food with his tongue before kneeling up on his haunches beside my chair. I take my time, savoring each mouthful, and when I'm finally done I lean back with a sigh. Another good day this has been, like so many since I took Christian for my own, and there's even more pleasure to come.

I glance down at my pet's cute, little face, his lips and mouth glistening with saliva where he's cleaned himself with his tongue. Savoring the warm feelings welling up inside my chest, I reach down and pat him firmly on the forehead. He nuzzles at my palm, and even tenderly licks my fingers when I dangle them in front of his lips. The adorable display makes me smile. He's really embracing his role today, showing me just how good he can be. That deserves some kindness from his Mistress, and I decide it's time he get his rewards.

Christian gets quite uncomfortable sometimes, scrabbling around on the floor all day. It hurts his knees and back and strains some muscles. For his rewards, I often take the time to alleviate his discomfort with a little tender handling.

Having washed up after dinner, I take my pet back through to the living room. Sensing my good mood, he's relaxed and calm, and when I lay out a soft mat on top of the table and pat its surface he eagerly squirms up on his hands and knees. A click of my fingers and he lies flat, stretching out his cute arms and legs. I take a moment to admire his naked body. The smooth, girlish curve of his back, leading to the plump apple curves of his adorable bubble butt. He's so very perfect, and all mine. I sigh and straighten, turning my attention back to what I should be doing.

"You earned two rewards today for showing good effort during your exercises. This will be the first." I explain. It isn't ideal to speak to a pet this way, but for his rewards and punishments I do recognize that he needs me to explain what he's done to earn them. 

Christian looks surprised at my generosity, but that fades into a cute little smile when I lean over his naked body and start to massage his slender back. A few months ago I took a few physiotherapy classes just for this purpose, and my well-trained fingers soon find the knots of tension hidden under his smooth skin. I grind each one away as he trembles under my hands, little grunts and moans of relief escaping his lips. A tender, intimate massage from a beautiful woman, I wonder if that was something he used to fantasize about back before I claimed him. The thought of him tugging on his little cock dreaming of my hands on his skin makes me smile, and I give him an affectionate pat on the head before going back to my massage.

Soon, he's lying limp across the table, taking long, even breaths. I'm working on his legs now, rubbing some soothing cream into his knees where they feel a little hot and swollen. I make a mental note to give him more rest time tomorrow, maybe cut back on his leg exercises just to be sure there's no permanent injury. It's frustrating to delay his training this way, but pushing too hard and ending up with a damaged pet would be far worse. Just the thought of him injuring himself makes me tense and unhappy. Perhaps that's strange, since I enjoy hurting him so very much, but I've given up trying to analyse the contradictions of my relationship with Christian.

My wandering hands dart rather higher, settling over his plump butt to give both cheeks a firm squeeze. My cute pet lets out a little squeak of shock, glancing over his shoulder at me. With a little grin, I continue, sinking my fingers into all that smooth, pale flesh and feeling it jiggle under my grip. He wriggles a little, blushing furiously as I palm and squeeze his butt. Soon he's panting hotly, and I can see the shivers of discomfort which mean his cock is pressing against its little pink cage.

Satisfied, I give him a soft swat across his butt, drawing another cute squeal, then point at the floor. He wriggles off the mat and eases himself down to sit at my feet, staring up at my face. He's still blushing pink, but his big, blue eyes are soft, longing even. He wants more of my attention, and lucky for him he earned himself a second reward today. I smile at him and reach down to gently cup his cheek, letting him relax into my palm. Maybe I should do something special for my cute little pet this time.

I recognize one of the things missing from my pet's life is intimacy. Not of a sexual sort, I give him plenty enough of that. Instead he never gets the chance to relax around another person and enjoy their company with no expectations placed upon him. While I certainly can't give him that, my unusual generosity today makes me decide a taste of something similar will be perfect for his reward.

He's very relaxed after his massage, and when I sit down on the couch, he shuffles over to my legs, ready to curl up in his usual place at my feet. Instead, I click my fingers and point at the couch beside me. He pauses, clearly shocked. It's rare for him to be allowed up on the furniture for reasons other than punishment. Another point and he hurriedly scrambles over, lifting himself awkwardly up onto the couch and sitting there in his puppy position on the cushion next to me. He's staring at my face, curious and anxious what this change can mean.

To reassure him, I reach up and cup his cheek, looking into his beautiful blue eyes. Using that hand, I gently guide his head down into my lap, until he's lying with his cheek against my knees and his naked body stretched out beside me. His eyes flicker back to my own, as I run a gentle finger along his cute little chin. 

"You managed to earn a second reward today, good boy." I purr, smiling down at his adorable face. Realizing finally what I'm planning, he relaxes, letting the weight of his head rest in my lap. I continue stroking his soft cheek, gently brushing my fingers over his pale skin. Soon he's lying there very still, his pretty face turned towards me and his soft gaze limply drifting over my face.

My fingers brush higher, tracing through the soft strands of his hair. This is nice. He's not the only one finding it relaxing. I feel a strange contentment sitting here with my darling pet, like the horrible world outside has just faded away and left the two of us alone. A pleasant fantasy. I feel l could live like that for the rest of my life and be very happy indeed.

Then I suddenly feel him shiver against me. A hoarse little whimper from his lips makes me pause, my fingers still resting in his hair. He's trembling like a leaf, his little body shaking against my own. Suddenly he's crying and the familiar sound of his anxious little sobs send panic flooding through me. Is he hurt? A quick check of his body reveals no obvious injury. Then why is he crying? This was supposed to be a reward! Why doesn't he like it? What did I do wrong?

"What is it?" I ask frantically. He just stares up at me, tears streaming down his cheeks from wet, sorrowful eyes. When he suddenly slips from my lap, I'm so shocked I don't even try to stop him. On the couch beside me, he kneels and raises himself up onto his haunches, his hands flopping and his tongue out. He's begging, asking me for something, but what? "What is it?" I repeat, my desperate gaze flickering over his face. Usually I'm so good at reading him! Why can't I tell what's wrong now?

He raises a finger and points at his outstretched tongue. That can't mean food, he just ate! And my pet's not greedy enough to get this upset over a meal. My mind is racing, analyzing everything that's happened today, searching for some way to explain all this and make it right. Three things stand out, his affectionate behavior, the longing stares he's been giving me recently, now this reaction to me cuddling him.

Suddenly I realize what he's looking for and it makes me freeze in place. He wants to talk to me. I haven't given him permission to speak in months, and the last time was only because he'd hurt his foot and I needed to figure out exactly what was wrong to treat him. He knows there's no point asking. Pets don't speak was one of the very first lessons I trained painfully into him. So why now? What exactly is he so desperate to say?

"Speak." I breathe the word, knowing I have no other choice. He's forced me to this extreme, something I very much dislike. I'm supposed to be the one in control. That means if what he's about to tell me is not of the utmost importance he'll spend the next week screaming in agony as I test the limits of my cruelty.

"Thank you, Mistress." He sobs. The achingly familiar sound of his voice sends shivers down my spine. It's soft and raspy from long disuse, but I can still hear the sweet teenager whose life I bought all those months ago. He raises his head, looking me straight in the eye as tears stream down his cheeks. "Mistress, I love you." He whispers. The words reach me as if over some impossible chasm. For a few long moments I just stare dumbly back at him. I don't understand.

"What?" I splutter at last. This is what he risked so much to tell me?

"I love you, Mistress." He repeats, forcing the words out through a hoarse sob. "I knew I had to say it now, while you might still let me speak. I love you, Mistress." I shudder, struggling to even grasp those words. How can he love me? He's seen who I really am, suffered through every vicious desire I've satisfied on his unwilling body. I've made him into a dumb, trained animal, out of little more than a twisted need to own him entirely. How can he love me?

"How?" I gasp, sounding more unsure then I ever have in my life.

"I don't know." He glances down, biting his lip. "When you bought me, I was so happy. I thought...at least a beautiful girl like you would be nice to me. Then you weren't and I thought I hated you. Now, I don't anymore. I just want to be with you, Mistress. Even if it means...all this." His hand points awkwardly at his collar. I take a few deep, gasping breaths, searching frantically for some calm center. He loves me. That was no lie. I'd know if he was lying. What does it mean though? Does he want things to change between us? Of course he does, but is this an attempt to force that? He's the one person who just might be able to manipulate me and fear of that curdles in my guts like shards of glass.

"You expect this to change something?" Something very cold slips into my voice as I ask the question.

"No, Mistress." He shakes his head. "I know you. The things you do to me, they're really hard and I hate them sometimes, but you just can't give anything else, not to me or to anyone. I know that and I still love you, even though that's who you are." He pauses again, sniffling wetly. "I had to tell you once. I needed you to know. I love you." I blink blearily as a single tear works its painful way down my cheek. How long has it been since I last cried? A decade at least. He's telling the truth. I know him so well I can't doubt that for a second. He knows what kind of monster I am and he still loves me.

Of course he does, I realize as the cold edge of logic intrudes into this storm of confusion and emotion. The concept of Stockholm Syndrome might be discredited, but that doesn't mean the human mind can resist attaching meaning to a relationship as intimate as the one we share. He relies on me for everything. I've practically trained him to love me, how can he not when I feed him, wash him tenderly and fuck him hard every single day?

Of course, just because I understand them doesn't stop his feelings for me making my heart tremble and ache in my chest. I can hardly believe I could ever feel this sentimental, even towards him. If I don't get control of myself soon, I'm probably going to start sobbing just like him. The thought of losing that much control, in front of my pet of all people, fills me with such vicious distaste that I manage to hold the tears back and straighten, fixing him with a cool, focused glare no matter the turmoil I'm feeling.

"I see." I breathe, forcing my voice to calm. That single tear drops onto the top of my sweater and disappears like it had never existed. "Go to your cage and lie down, right now. I'll come fetch you shortly."

He nods and scrambles awkwardly off the couch. He doesn't know if I'm going to punish him or not, but he's still shaking in sheer relief as he scurries away back to my bedroom. How long has he been wanting to tell me? A couple months at least, thinking back to how his behavior has changed over the past year or so. Now some of his confusion before then makes sense too. He must have been struggling to reconcile the beginnings of love for me with his old feelings of hatred and betrayal.

I sit back against the couch and take another long breath in, forcing calm over my wavering mind. One question dominates my thoughts. What am I going to do about this?

Some time later, I step into my bedroom, standing tall and confident as if that minor breakdown had never even happened. Christian is waiting for me, lying down in his cage on top of his small comfy mat. As soon as he notices me, his gaze flickers to my face. He's clearly anxious, but at the same time I see a desperate longing in his eyes. He may not have asked for one, but it seems he wants an answer to what he told me.

I click my fingers and point at my feet. He crawls out in a flash, and kneels where I told him, staring up at me with big, wet eyes. He's been crying even more, I notice, though whether from relief or fear of punishment I cannot say. A slow, calming breath makes my chest rise and fall as I muster the words. As much as it goes against his training, he deserves to be told my decision at least.

"Thank you for telling me that." I say at last. "However, it will not change anything. I expect the same standards of behavior and the same punishments will be applied." He nods frantically. If he's upset by my answer he shows no sign of it, just the same eager attention I expect from my pet. He told me that he knows me, knows this is all I'm able to give him. Then this must have been what he expected. I wonder if he's disappointed anyway, if he was somehow still hoping I'd sweep him up into my arms and tell him I loved him too.

Impossible, for someone like me. Though I care deeply about my pet and long to keep him close to me, my treatment of him is a reflection of that same possessive affection. The two are entwined, with no way to separate them. I recognize that, but somehow I still sense a certain lingering regret buried deep under my armor. Part of me does wish there was some other option, even knowing that there never was. Perhaps I am more sentimental than I thought.

Whatever the case, I'm feeling the simmering urge to master my pet, to show him who his Mistress is despite these confusing emotions muddling up everything. To that end, I reach up and tie back my hair into a strict bun, holding it together with a hairband slipped from my wrist. Christian winces as soon as he sees what I'm doing. He knows exactly what this means. I do the same every single time I punish him.

I step over to the chair against the other wall and sit down, then pat my lap meaningfully. My pet's lip is trembling miserably, but he crawls over to me, then lifts himself awkwardly up without ever fully standing on two feet. I help him out by grabbing his waist and pulling him across my knees. Soon he's settled over my lap with his hands on the floor below his head and his legs hanging in the air beside the chair. His belly rests on my knees, leaving his cute butt against my leg, quivering in the air, soft and vulnerable and ready for my palm. Between his slightly spread thighs, I can just make out his pink little balls in their tight sack, a delicious reminder that despite his girly appearance Christian is still a boy.

Smiling to myself, I run a possessive hand down his slender back, enjoying as always the feeling of his skin under my fingers. My lingering caress ends at his butt, where I let my palm settle over one soft cheek, a gentle reminder of what I'm about to do to him.

"You earned yourself one punishment today, for willful laziness during exercises." I say to him, giving his adorable butt a firm squeeze between my fingers. Feeling the strange urge to add more, I continue before I can stop myself. "This has nothing to do with what you just told me. I will never punish you for that." My lips snap shut and I frown slightly. Why did I feel the need to tell him that? Well, it's done now, and better he understand exactly what he's being chastised for. "The penalty is a spanking with my hand, to continue as long as I deem it necessary." I announce.

It's a light punishment by my standards. In truth I was planning something rather more involved and painful for his slip during training, involving a lot of ropes, an electrified butt plug and a heavy leather strap, but right now the thought of hurting him so badly is a little hard to bear. He still needs punished though, and so I've chosen something more intimate this time. I want to feel his flesh under my palm, enjoy his wriggling in my lap and listen to his helpless sobs as I tan his naughty butt until every inch of skin is throbbing hot. A good, hard spanking should reassert my authority in a way that doesn't leave him too miserable and perhaps enjoying one of my favorite activities with him will help me gain some control over these wayward thoughts.

I intend for this to last a while, so I start slow. My hand rises and falls, landing firmly in the center of one soft buttock with a delicious crack. Then I continue, switching from cheek to cheek and giving him just enough time to anticipate each swat before it lands. He tries to be brave at first, like he always does, his lips pursed firmly shut and an adorable determined look in his eyes that wavers each time my hand smacks across his plump flesh. That doesn't last very long. Soon he's whimpering and huffing softly, and his legs are twitching up after each swat. He's fighting the urge to kick and cry, but I know I'll soon break his feeble defenses and get to enjoy him howling and wriggling helplessly over my lap.

Inspired, I start to smack him rather harder. Soon the room is filled with the delicious sounds of my naughty petboy getting what's coming to him, the crack of my palm on his soft flesh, his helpless squeals and sobs, and my own hot breaths, tinged with arousal. My hand beats a relentless rhythm on poor Christian's butt, squashing his plump cheeks into his hips, then letting them spring back, jiggling and quivering. How I adore tanning these two soft mounds, just made for good, hard spankings. His skin is red all over now, glowing hot to the touch, and I take a moment to pause and enjoy some leisurely groping.

My pet is crying now, and every time my fingers dig into a sorer spot his little sniffles grow shriller and more desperate. At least he's learnt better than to beg me for mercy like he used to in the early days. All that ever earned him was an even harsher punishment for breaking my rules against speaking. And just like that, I remember what he told me again. It's like an itch I can't scratch, working its annoying way round my head. I love you Mistress. How can he say that, when even now I'm taking every enjoyment in his savage punishment?

I'm irritated suddenly, and if I'm angry he's the one who's going to pay for it. He needs more punishment. Grinning savagely I pin his wrists firmly down with one hand while the other lands swat after swat across his poor tender butt. He's howling for me now, kicking and thrashing as I scorch his flesh raw. His wobbling cheeks clench and relax as his struggles to deal with the pain, bucking and bouncing against my knees. Yes, let pain show him who his Mistress is!

Let him try and whimper that he loves me now, while my cruel palm turns every inch of his adorable butt red and hot. That this punishment is meant for something else has slipped from my mind, and all I want to do is make sure he never dreams of upsetting me like this again. I need to hurt him even more, so I move down to his thrashing thighs, marking new, virgin flesh with my hand. The skin here is achingly sensitive, and his desperate howls are even more frantic after each swat. He's kicking so much I have to grab his legs and force them down, pinning them between my own so that I can continue.

Some minutes later and I still haven't stopped. The flesh of his butt is scarlet, and glowing hot, with a few purpling bruises where a particularly savage swat has landed. He's stopped struggling, and now lies slumped over my lap, sobbing softly with a puddle of tears staining the floor under his head. Seeing him like this makes me grin with satisfaction. I raise my hand and hit him twice more in quick succession, each hard spank landing in the center of one plump buttock. His only reaction is to twitch and whimper, utterly broken by the pain of the beating.

Now I want to see him cower, to shrink away from me in terror of my displeasure. Let that be the last withering death of these idiotic things he's told me. With a cold sneer, I push him off my lap, wanting to kick the broken dog while he's down. He lands in a heap at my feet, twitching and sobbing on the carpet. I sit back up and wait, ready for the moment when he recovers enough to cower away. Yes, he'll be so afraid of me  he'll have to run, scurrying off towards the far wall just to put as much distance between us as he can. Then I'll get to punish him again, just for moving without my permission! Let him say loves me then!

Only, he doesn't move, not even when his sobs ease. He just lies there curled up at my feet, showing no sign of the cowering I suddenly need to see. As he gets control of his breathing back, he doesn't even seem that afraid of me, in spite of what I've just done to him. Instead, he lies there, slowly calming himself down with seemingly no desire to escape from my clutches. Determined to see some reaction, I stretch out my bare leg towards him, meaning to kick or prod him to move more. My gaze drifts over his suffering body as I do so, taking in every hoarse sob and anguished shiver.

Just like that, I pause, my leg held in the air next to him. He turns his head and sees it, his gorgeous blue eyes full of tears. I suppose he must have misunderstood what I intended, because he manages to move, struggling back up onto his haunches. I watch in stunned shock as instead of cowering, he leans against my leg, nuzzling at it with a tear-stained cheek. His trembling little hands cling to my calf, clutching at my bare skin. The feeling of his fingers stroking me so gently makes me shudder and suddenly I realize just what I've done.

I lost control....I lost control! My head is still spinning. No! Not me...this wasn't supposed to happen, it wasn't supposed to be this way. I  didn't want to hurt him this much! I sit there frozen on the chair as my pet lovingly nuzzles at my thigh, even as tears still dribble down his cheeks. I've never once continued a punishment past what I intended, least of all out of spite. No matter how much I enjoy his pain, it's always been under the strictest conditions. Controlled and measured, so I can make absolutely sure I don't damage him past what he can bear. This was just a spanking, but what if next time I'm really laying into him this happens again?! I could hurt him...

This has gone way too far. I'm risking his safety now by continuing to allow myself to be unsettled by what he's told me and that is something I absolutely cannot abide. It must not continue. I need to nip this in the bud now, and firmly reestablish my commitment to his training. I straighten in my chair, taking in a deep, calming breath. With an effort of will, I force the annoying and confusing feelings to one side. Since hurting him hasn't worked, there's one other way I can show my suddenly wavering heart that this has always been the best path.

I need to make myself understand why this was always necessary, reclaim the white-hot delight I should be feeling in having him subject to my every wicked whim. What better way to accomplish that, I've decided, then by making him mine in the truest possible way. I'm going to lay him down on the bed and shove my strapon deep into his adorable butt. Unlike the spanking, he'll enjoy this too, but I'll still be dominating him entirely, taking my pleasure from his needy body while he moans underneath my thrusting hips.

Doing this was something I was very much looking forward to tonight anyway. No need to change my plans just yet. Smiling to myself, I pull my leg from his gentle grip. He kneels up in his proper position, staring up at me with those big, blue eyes, so much more gorgeous for the glistening tears that fill them. I rise from the chair and step around him, heading to a drawer against the far wall.

Sliding it open reveals my collection of strapons, neatly arranged from smallest to largest, with a couple more exotic pieces getting their own pride of place further back. This is not another punishment, and I refuse to let my confusion upset his training by causing him any more pain now. So, I select one of the middle ones, a medium size he'll take without much struggle. The plastic cock is pink of course, and curved just right to stimulate his prostate while I'm fucking him. This particular one makes him squeal and wriggle quite adorably underneath me and that feels very much like what I need right now. The more I enjoy this, the surer I'll be afterward that enslaving him really was the right thing to do.

He's watching me with trembling lips as I shrug out of my clothes, his cute gaze drifting over my naked skin. He knows every part of me just as well as I know him, but he still stares at me with such wonder now, worshipping me with his eyes in a way that makes my pussy throb between my legs. The strapon slips over my hips and I fasten the leather buckles tight. There's a vibrating part that rests against my clit to give me even more stimulation while I pound my pet into the bed. I turn to him with the pink dildo hanging in the air in front of me and the handy bottle of lube I keep on my shelf in one hand.

"Bed, on your belly." I command, snapping my fingers. It takes him a little while, but he works his way back up onto his shivering limbs and crawls on to the foot of the bed. My pet lies flat across the blankets, his legs spread wide and his cute, red bubble butt quivering in the air. I step behind him, shivering slightly. In spite of everything, I can still savor the anticipation of this moment, knowing that I'll soon be driving this pretty pink strapon deep into my squirming pet's butthole. It helps how adorable he looks, lying there shivering with his plump apple buttcheeks glowing hot. I  just adore that color, the deep scarlet my palm has painted on his skin.

I get up onto the bed, kneeling with my legs on either side of his. He's shivering slightly, with his face buried in the blankets so he can bite down when it all gets a little intense. He's learnt well how to deal with one of my hard poundings. First, I slather my strapon in lube, admiring the way the pink plastic glistens. Then, a squeeze of the bottle drizzles a good amount into my pet's crack. I use a finger to spread it nicely around his tight little butthole, then shove my lubricated digit inside, making sure those first few inches are well covered.

He gasps at the sudden penetration, then again when I work my finger as deep as it can go. A thin smile flickers across my face. His reactions are always so amusing. Perhaps enjoying how he squirms and squeals now will make these annoying regrets just disappear. A second of my lubed fingers slips inside, stretching him open in preparation for my cock. I know this part of him as well as any other, and with a little probing I find his prostate. A little stroking of that achingly sensitive area makes him tremble and moan into the sheets like a virgin girl. Satisfied, I pull my fingers free, ready to begin.

Holding the strapon in one hand and spreading my pet's cute butt with the other, I ease myself forward, carefully lining the plastic cock up with his waiting butthole. He's taking long, even breaths on the bed, knowing it's far better for him to relax and let me have my wicked way with him. Slowly, I inch forward, giving us both time to anticipate the moment of penetration. The strapon finds his pink little hole with unerring accuracy and I start to push.

He's relaxed and well-lubed, so the pink head slips inside without much trouble, that tight ring of muscle gripping tightly at the plastic. I push my hips forward, savoring every moment as I feed the toy into my pet. He's gasping and moaning, his well-trained body responding immediately to the familiar pressure on his guts. Edging forward, I wait until I'm hilted and my hips are resting against the glowing hot skin of his poor butt-cheeks. Then I lean right over, planting my hands on either side of his head and my legs resting beside his. Now I'm ready to fuck him hard.

My hips buck, up and down, pounding the strapon into my pet's quivering butt. Every time my thighs slam into his scarlet cheeks there's a sharp crack, like I'm spanking him all over again. He's wincing and moaning softly at this fresh assault on his already tender flesh. I know that soon enough I'll start to work his prostate and pleasure will overwhelm the pain. To that end, I start driving deeper, searching for that spot which will make him moan.

It's not often I envy the male gender, but this is one of those times. The strapon is just plastic, and though the buzzing vibrations against myclit are pleasurable, I can only imagine how much more amazing it would feel to be shoving a warm and hard part of myself deep into my pet. Then filling his guts with warm cum when I orgasm, marking him as mine. Instead, I must make do with these imitations.

My lips curl in satisfaction when I feel him stiffen against me, a girly, high-pitched moan escaping his lips. I adjust my angle slightly, making sure I hit that mark every time. He's learnt to take what pleasure he can from my use of him, and soon he's raising his hips, letting me drive my strapon even deeper into his quivering butt. His huffs and pants take on a hungrier quality, and he doesn't even seem to notice how hard I'm pounding him into the bed. I drink in his trembling, moaning reactions as I play his needy body like a harp. The buzzing of the vibrator against my clit makes me bite my lip and moan, that part of me  tingling hot as I ride the delicious sensations up towards a crest.

As I near orgasm, my pounding of his asshole grows even more violent. I lower myself down on top of him, breathing in the sweet scent of his hair. It's not enough though, and soon I've darted down to bite into his shoulder. He squeals sharply, but I'm careful not to hurt him too much, and soon I'm planting hungry kisses up his neck that make him tremble with delight. When my teeth gently fasten round his cute pink ear-lobe, he moans hoarsely, wriggling under me in frantic pleasure.

The orgasm when it comes is very satisfying, white-hot pleasure flooding through my  trembling flesh, but it leaves me craving more. I buck my muscled hips up and down on top of his quivering body, burying the strapon as deep as it can go before drawing almost all the way out his quivering butthole to thrust again. My hands are gripping at his waist and shoulders like I never mean to let him go, nails digging into his smooth skin. He's mine! And I want more of him, need more!

Letting my rampant desires guide me, I rise off him, pulling the lubed strapon free of his twitching butthole. He pauses, glancing back at me in confusion, his lips curled into an adorable pout at this sudden end of my pleasurable pounding of his insides. Smirking down at my needy pet, I grab him by the waist and flip him over onto his back. I want to look at his face while I fuck him now, to see him twitch and moan as I use his body like a toy.

He squeals sharply when I grab his hips and fold them up, leaving his cute butt exposed, pink hole winking and ready for my attention. I lie my body over his, my torso between his trembling thighs, his legs up in the air on either side of me. One hand grips my strapon, and I guide it back where it belongs, slipping easily inside his well-fucked guts. As I enter him once more, I lean forward, letting my aching boobs rest against his soft torso, my stiff nipples rubbing all over his skin. Slowly, I start to grind my hips, a gentle rhythm that slides the plastic dick deep, then draws it out.

His face is just below mine, letting me enjoy his every reaction. As I drive the strapon forward he gasps and flushes, biting his lip as pleasure sears up from his naughty butt. Then I pull back, agonisingly slow, and he whimpers softly, begging for more. All the while, his gorgeous doe eyes stay fixed on my face, soft and loving. I haven't fucked him like this in a while, and I wonder if I would have guessed how he felt sooner if I had. The way he gazes so longingly at my face leaves little doubt as to the depths of his feelings for me.

I smile hungrily down at him, using one hand to brush his hair from his sweat-stained forehead. He's utterly limp and helpless, like a kitten grabbed by neck, his whole body paralyzed by the slow and pleasurable pounding of his prostate The buzzing on my clit is guiding mr back up towards another orgasm, making me gasp and tremble on top of him. Biting my lip, I focus through the growing haze of pleasure. I want to be staring at his face when I come. My thrusting gets harder, my thighs smacking into his butt each time I drive the strapon deep. He moans and wriggles, bucking his own hips as his little caged dick throbs and aches inside its prison. Pre-cum is dribbling from the tip, milked free of his poor, aching prostate each time I pound him.

Then the wave of pleasure hits me and I find myself leaning down and planting my lips firmly on his. A hungry, needy kiss, like I want to devour him whole. In the moment, it feels like that's exactly what I'm trying to do. He trembles in shock against me, but his mouth opens in welcome when I slip my tongue inside to taste him. The orgasm hits me like a truck and I slump over him, gasping into his lips. The strapon is buried to the hilt inside him, and I can feel the soft flesh of his butt against my  thighs, still burning hot from the spanking. The moment is just so perfect I find myself hoping it will never end.

Of course it does, far too soon, and I feel the white-hot pleasure ebb away, leaving me drained and gasping over my pet's limp body. I pull away from his lips, taking in a sharp, shuddering breath. For a moment I just lie there, staring into his eyes. Our bodies are pressed against each other, skin on skin, fitting together like it was always meant to be. I savor the warmth coming off his soft, pale flesh, gazing down in sweet, aching satisfaction at this gorgeous, perfect boy I own.

"You're mine." I purr, like a sated cat. My hand reaches up to run through his soft, blonde hair, tugging gently at a few sweaty strands. "You're mine and you always will be." He nods once, his gorgeous eyes wet and glistening, but it's not enough, not anymore. "Tell me." I order him. "Let me hear you say it."

"Yes Mistress." He murmurs, sweet voice trembling. "I'm yours, Mistress, always." My heart aches as I hear those sweet, painful words. Then I lean down and kiss him again, claiming his sweet lips with my own. For a long time I just lie over him, exploring his willing mouth with my tongue. My strapon is still buried in his butt, the vibrator buzzing away against my clit, but I feel no urgent need to fuck him to another orgasm. Instead, my whole body trembles with an aching warmth that is somehow almost as satisfying.

Yes, this is it. This is what I wanted. This is how it should be. He's mine. My pet and my slave and I'm never letting him go.

At long last, I  break the kiss. Christian is limp and trembling underneath me, tears glistening in his eyes. I feel a flicker of alarm, before he smiles up at me and I understand he's crying from relief, not pain. This has meant a lot to him, I realize. The confirmation that he has some value to me, even if just as a possession. That he's not something just to be brutally used and eventually discarded when I lose interest. 

Of course that's never been true. I treasure him more than anything in this world, but I concede it must have been hard for him to see that from his position. Unable to resist, I lean down and lick the salty droplets from his cheeks, savoring the taste of his tears. He wriggles a little, but soon lies back and lets me do as I please. Moving down, I tenderly kiss and suck at his soft neck, leaving a few red marks against his pale skin.

I feel him nuzzle against my forehead, rubbing his cheek against my skin, and I smile to myself. This was good. It was exactly what we both needed after a rather tumultuous day. I've never kissed him like that before, so long and so tenderly, with my naked bodies entwined. Already I know I'll be doing it again. It just felt too good not to. Like using him that way filled some aching need I never even knew I had.

I gently pull my strapon free and roll off him to one side, sitting up on the bed beside him. He lies there twitching and sobbing quietly, but smiling all the same, his body drained of all strength by the hard pounding I just gave him. A little string of pearly liquid dangles from the tip of his chastity cage, his poor cock inside no doubt crying for release. The thought of letting him cum flickers through my mind for the very first time since I locked his dick away, but only for an instant. He's way too much fun when he's all desperate and needy. I may be reconsidering some things in his future, but not that. He's still my pet, and still to be firmly disciplined and treated as I please.

I reach a hand over him to collect that pearly drop on the end of one finger. His lips part as I move my hand back to his face, and when I slip that digit inside he suckles at it tenderly, cleaning any trace of his needy cock. His well-trained tongue is soft and eager, fluttering over every inch of skin. I let him continue even after my finger is surely clean, enjoying the sight of him lying there, cheeks sucked in and licking away so adorably. At last, I pull my digit free with a cute little pop and my hand cups his pale, tear-stained cheek.

"Good boy." I  purr at him. He smiles again, shivering with delight while I scratch at his cute little ears. As happy and relieved as he is after all this heady intimacy, I can recognize the signs of exhaustion in the way he lies there limply over the blankets. I'm tired too, the muscles of my core aching after all that work I put into fucking him. Time for us both to get some rest. He needs plenty of sleep to recover properly from his harsh training regime, and I always make sure I get at least eight hours a day myself.

With a click of my fingers, I slip back onto my feet and step naked back into the bathroom, the strapon cock bobbing in front of me. He scrambles off the bed and follows me, his legs and arms still trembling from the hard pounding I just gave his butt. I smile to myself, he's so adorable, and still mine, no matter what changes in my relationship with him. He'll always be mine. If nothing else, I'll make absolutely sure of that.

After slipping the strapon off myhips and scrubbing it down with some hot water and a cloth, I leave it to dry overnight while carefully washing my hands and brushing my teeth. Then I fetch his own little toothbrush from its place under the sink. His mouth is already open wide for me as I lean over and firmly brush his teeth, gums and tongue. I hold his chin with my other hand, gently moving his head from side to side to let me reach everywhere inside his mouth. He's very relaxed, letting me do as I please with him. When I'm done, I wash his pretty face with a wet cloth, admiring how cutely he wrinkles his nose when I brush along his lips. The last thing I do is have him lie face down on the tiles, with his butt in the air so I can clean the glistening lube off his pink, twitching hole.

Then it's back into my bedroom, him padding at my heels. His cage is waiting, open and ready to be locked for the night. As he starts crawling towards it, I stop him with a sharp click of my fingers. My lips are curled thoughtfully, and my gaze darts between the cage and my own bed, easily large enough for two to share.

After a moment's thought, I make my decision, clicking my fingers and pointing at the open cage. He nods once, and crawls his naked body inside the bars before curling up on top of the mattress and lying there just like a puppy. The thought of him joining me in bed, lying in my arms with his head on my chest, does have a certain appeal, but there will be other days and other rewards. Perhaps soon he'll find himself sharing my bed once in a while, just not quite yet. He's been spoiled and pampered more than enough today.

I crouch down in front of the cage, giving him a gentle smile through the open door. He looks back at me with those beautiful blue eyes, his longing gaze following my hand as I reach inside to cup his cheek, my fingers tracing over his skin. There are things I could say to him now. I could tell him how happy I am to hear how he felt, or reassure him that it's okay for him to love me, but I don't. He's still my pet, after all. The way he gazes at my face so lovingly, I sense he knows those things anyway.

With one last pat of his head, I pull my hand away and then gently ease the cage door shut. It locks with a click, the timed lock activating so he can be my little pussy-licking alarm clock tomorrow. No matter how achingly satisfied he's already left me today, I still find a pleasant tingling anticipation rise between my legs at the thought. I'll be lazy tomorrow I decide, and let him stay down there for a good long while eating me out before I rise. Perhaps I'll skip a pointless lecture or two just to spend even more time with him buried between my legs, nuzzling and licking away.

Smiling to myself at the thought, I slip naked into my own bed, switching off the bedside light and plunging my room into darkness. I lie back against the soft silk sheets, staring up the ceiling. I can hear Christian breathing in the dark, slow and even. He must have been exhausted by all the excitement today, because I can tell he's already on the verge of sleep. He sounds very relaxed, calm and happy, like just telling me what he did today has lifted a weight off his shoulders.

Again, I find myself thinking about those four simple words in his sweet, trembling voice. I love you, Mistress. As I lie back on my bed in the dark, I carefully sift through the feelings welling up inside me. I'm not panicking anymore, not like when I first heard him speak. Instead I let each wash over me in turn, trying to figure out just how they make me feel now. Do I regret what I've done to him? No, definitely not, but I still find myself imagining what could have happened had I restrained my worst urges.

Could us two have been a normal couple, walking hand in hand down the street, whispering loving words in each other's ears? I imagine him smiling shyly as I point at clothes I'd like to buy for him in the shop windows, then teasing him in the dressing rooms as he wears each for me in turn, my doting boyfriend going along with all my whims. Afterward, eating dinner together under candlelight in my apartment kitchen, the scent of roses in the air. I'd take him in my arms, still the dominant, and lead him up to my bed where I'd pleasure his wriggling body until he can take no more.

It is quite a pleasant fantasy, but just that, a fantasy. I know myself too well. That dream might make my heart ache now, but that kind of life couldn't last. Not for me and him. I  wouldn't be able to hold myself back from hurting him, claiming him and breaking him. The thought of my dear pet out there free in that ugly world, being looked at by other women who might want him almost as much as me, is like a knife in my chest. I need him to be mine entirely, I won't accept anything less. A brief taste of something different would only make it sting so much more when I tore everything away from him again.

No, the only way I could have spared him from this life if I'd just walked away from him that very first day, leaving his life to be bought by someone else, but then I wouldn't have been capable of that either. Not after the way he ensnared me with that one look at his sad little face. He was doomed to be my pet the moment I laid eyes on him.

I sigh to myself , letting silly regrets fade away. It's done now, he's mine , and he always will be. I find myself sitting up again, gazing down at his little cage at the foot of my bed. In the gloom, I can just about make out his body lying there, small and slender, curled up around his torso like a slumbering dog. My heart trembles, the strength of my feelings for him making my whole body ache. There's no-one else in all this awful world who could ever make me feel this way. He's the one for me, the one my heart needs to be complete.

"I love you, Christian." I breathe, so quietly there's no chance he'll wake. The unfamiliar words feel a little odd to even say out loud, but right all the same. I do love him, in my own strange way, the only way I'm capable of, and now I know he loves me too. That's enough. It's all I need, and perhaps it can be all he needs as well.

Lying back again against my pillow, I feel a wave of exhaustion sweep over my tired body. On the edge of sleep, I hear his voice in my head again and smile tiredly to myself. What he told me before that long, delicious kiss, as I lay there staring into each other's eyes. I'm yours, Mistress, always. Maybe I should let him speak again sometime soon, just to hear those words again.

The End

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! This was adapted from a work I posted on another site, but I really liked this story so I decided to change things up a little and put it here as well. It was always planned as a kind of day in the life of an unusual relationship, so as much as I'm tempted to carry it on and see how things develop in the future for these two I think I have to end things here. 

It was really fun getting in the head of someone like the narrator. She was such a strong-willed character, broken but self-aware, knowing she lacks something but nevertheless living her life according to her own principles and wants. I wanted to make a realistic character who'd view taking everything from the boy she loves as absolutely necessary. Let me know if you think I succeeded! 

As for the ending, I tried to keep it realistic to the characters as I saw them. The story of these two was never going to have a perfectly happy ending, bittersweet was about all I could manage. I didn't want it all to end hopelessly though, so I left open the rather likely possibility that things are going to get much better for Christian in the near future. He'll still be her pet, but maybe he can be a pampered one instead!

Rishi