Caution, sexually evocative imagery with BDSM overtones.

She waited, playing with the little red satin embellishments on her black vinyl corset. There was a particular thrill to awaiting this one’s arrival. He was shy in an unconventional way that kept her double checking her work with him every time they interacted. It was delightfully productive. Males were usually denied, but this one was a rare blend of sensitive, worshipful, compatible, and dutifully masochistic, without being intolerably arrogant. Amazing.

The door quietly opened. She smiled in spite of herself. He had this classic fusion of playful defiance and nervous awe written across his face each time he stepped into her presence. A black backpack was slung over one of his shoulders, containing the hood, steel spidergag, cuffs, and more than half a dozen locks that collaborated with these items. His eyes stayed on the floor this time. Apparently the backhanded slap across the face he’d received at the start of their last session was enough to make that expectation clear.

“Leave the bag and your street clothes at my feet.” Her command was indulgent, no trace of impatience or disdain.

He obeyed in that faltering yet hasty way that excited her so much. She loved watching him undress. Not because he was attractive, which he was, but because the transformation from an autonomous person into a feral slave desperate for reinforcement and use was so obvious. After some squirming and fidgeting, there was a little heap of clothes at her left foot and the backpack to her right. He had actually worn the O ring body harness under his clothes like she’d asked! It was difficult not to let him see how easy it was to please her.

“Display your cage.” She ordered, chewing her bottom lip a little instead of allowing a smile.

He liked this command. Dropping to his knees before her, now fully naked save for the criss-crossing leather straps and wide round rings of the harness, he held his hands behind his back and widened his kneeling stance as much as he could. She tilted her head and stared at the stainless steel chastity device between his legs. Her eyes watched the flesh of his cock bulge and strain against the metal in response to exposure and her attention. It had been about ninety seconds since he’d opened the door, and already he was losing touch with common reality. His mind raced with competing desires, all of them the unfiltered thoughts of a slave being in the presence of the one that legitimately owned him.

“Collar posture, slave. Are you worthy of my chain tonight?” She picked up his collar from the little table beside her just long enough for him to see it. The chain leash was still attached to it from their last walk together.

He nodded sharply but knew better than to speak. Obediently, he brought his knees back together and rested his hands, palms up, on his thighs. Then he lifted his chin until he was staring at the ceiling. She let him sit like that for a few breaths, watching his face become more passionate and his breathing more intense. Would she use all of the locks? He wondered. Was the metal gag going to bust up the inside of his mouth? He swallowed nervously. How was she going to amuse herself after he was immobilized with the cuffs?

Both of her hands closed around his neck. She was standing over him, staring down into his face. He didn’t look away because he wanted her to do it. The pressure increased until he couldn’t drag a breath inward. They both smiled. Her grip relaxed slightly, allowing a gasp that she cut off before it could become a full inhalation. He looked away from her eyes, focusing on her mouth instead as his head pounded with the rhythm of his heart. She licked her lips and relaxed her grip once again, enjoying how his entire body was more excited and more at ease in equal measures.

“Good boy,” she growled at him affectionately.

He heard the backpack unzip as soon as she pulled her hands away. She shoved the spidergag in his mouth, careful not to chip any teeth, and secured it quickly. Then the confines of the thick latex hood were sliding over his head. It gripped his jawline and clung to his neck. He could feel the lacing up the back of the hood being pulled tight. Next the heavy collar was buckled into place over the hood and locked with two of the locks, trapping his gagged mouth and sealed shut eyes in place. The hood itself also locked in three places. Little keys jingled as she dropped them into a pile on the table where the collar had been.

)O( Purely Protocol )O(