I slept an exhausted sleep on the carpet at the foot of her king-sized bed before waking slowly as the dawn light filtered through the hotel room curtains. I was naked, cold, tired, I ached all over and smelled of sex. It was clear that my Mistress hadn’t released me from my servitude of the night before, when she had taken me deeper into my submissive self than I’d ever been, making me her willing Slave.
I watched her get up and walk naked to the bathroom. I heard her pee and then she climbed back into bed.
“Come here, Slave, and worship my pussy,” she said.
I climbed onto the bed as instructed and lowered my face between her spread legs. I ran my tongue between her pussy lips. She was already wet and she too smelled of sex and a little of the piss she had just taken.
She chuckled and moaned as I lapped at her wetness.
“Yes, Slave, I didn’t bother wiping after my pee. Why would I when I know you will put your tongue wherever I tell you to.”
It didn’t take her long to orgasm loudly, holding my face firmly against her cunt as she came.
“Mouth open, Slut,” she commanded, as her juices squirted, coating my lips, tongue and throat and even filling my nose. I swallowed, gasping a little for air at the same time, my senses overwhelmed by the touch, taste, and smell of her.
“Now get off the bed and stand in front of me,” she said. “Stand up straight and put your hands on your head. I want to inspect my property and my handiwork from last night.”
I realised now that I was obeying her without question. Previously, my thought processes had been more considered, checking my willingness to submit, thinking about how far I was prepared to go, and whether it was now “my turn” to be the dominant one. I had always thought of myself as a dominant person who sometimes liked to be submissive. After last night, I was accepting “my place” as her Slave without question.
My tired mind tried to grapple with this shift, and all I could conclude was that my strong sexual craving to be humiliated by this dominant woman outweighed everything else. It felt liberating to accept this.
She lay back against raised pillows, her skin pale and her short blond hair slightly tousled by sleep. Her legs were spread and her pussy lips, below neatly trimmed blond pubes, were open, swollen, and wet. She looked me up and down with her superior smile, a smile I had once – as a colleague, an equal – found condescending and annoying. I wasn’t her equal anymore.
“I do like your very red knees,” she said, admiring my carpet burns, and certainly I had spent a lot of the previous evening on my knees and crawling on all fours on the hotel room carpet. “You had better get used to being on your knees because I have no intention of letting you rediscover your dominant side.”
“Mistress,” I said quietly, “After yesterday, I have no idea how I would find that version of me.”
“Good,” she smiled, “But I intend to humble and break you completely to be sure. Not now, but soon.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Turn around and show me that abused bottom of yours,” she said. I turned and she laughed. “Now that’s a work of art! I can still see the welts from your belt, which are only partly covered by the bruises from my hairbrush. How does it feel?”
“It hurt so much last night, Mistress,” and her hairbrush had brought me to tears, “But now it’s more of an uncomfortable ache. I know it will itch too as it heals.”
“The gift that keeps on giving,” she smiled, “but you’d better get used to it because I plan to punish you on a regular basis. Now turn back to face me.”
“Look at your pathetic cock and balls, all shrivelled and red,” she smirked. Like my knees, they were red and sore from the pain, and pleasure, she had inflicted the previous night. At one point she had attached wooden clothes pegs to my ball sack and had also repeatedly made me hard before using a riding crop to beat my cock until the erection diminished.
“Make yourself hard for me,” she ordered.
I took my tender cock in my right hand and started to stroke it gently.
“Do it much harder than that,” she said impatiently.
I pumped my abused cock faster until it was hard, feeling more discomfort than arousal.
“Bring yourself very close to orgasm and then put your hands back on your head,” she said.
Painfully, I did as she instructed and stood with my hands on my head and my cock erect. She gently encircled my shaft with her long, slender fingers and my cock twitched, responding to her delicate touch.
“It is important to me,” she said softly, “That you know your place, that you understand that you no longer have any right to sexual pleasure. I may choose, as your Mistress, to bestow it upon you from time to time, but you no longer have any right to it. So, I’m going to give you a choice to see if you do know your place. You can choose now for me to take your cock into my mouth and to cum with it touching the back of my throat, and for me to swallow your cum. Or you can choose for me to spoil your orgasm. To make you come, but to give you no other stimulation. And then to have you lick up every drop of your own sperm from wherever it falls.”
Her fingers continued to stroke my cock almost imperceptibly as she gave me this choice. She was testing me. My dominant self, if he still existed, would want to thrust its cock down her throat, but I just wasn’t that person and I wanted above all to please her.
“Please Mistress,” I said, “spoil my orgasm.”
She smiled and bent to softly kiss the tip of my cock. I groaned as she stroked my cock faster and then she stopped abruptly as I started to cum. I pushed my hands hard against the top of my head as my sperm spurted onto the carpet at my feet. As my orgasm faded, she taunted me by pumping my now very sensitive cock hard to extract every drop. When she let go, without being asked, I got to my knees and started licking up my own mess, trying not to think of the many bare feet that had touched the tired hotel room carpet.
**********
We sat together at the airport, waiting for our flight home. It was clear something major had shifted in our relationship, but we chatted now more like the friends we are. We talked in detail through what had happened between us in the last twenty-four hours. She teased me about the nervous look on my face as I stood outside her hotel room with two Gin and Tonics on a tray, like a waiter, and the moment I realised that she was having me perform a slow striptease, from one of my own fantasies. She said she had realised very quickly that I was giving more of myself to her, submitting to a much greater extent, than I ever had before.
I told her how embarrassing it had felt sitting in front of her in just my underwear and a with a tie around my neck, trying to hold my stomach in, and knowing she would soon instruct me to complete my striptease. It felt incredibly intimate re-living the experience with her, telling her in detail how I had felt as she inflicted pain and humiliation on me, and how I had craved her dominance, and how I still craved her dominance.
She hinted several times on the journey back from Germany that I still had more to do to prove my devotion and obedience to her, that I would soon be properly broken and humbled, but she wasn’t specific.
She made me wait almost two weeks. She would remind me from time to time that it was coming, this humbling, this destruction of anything that might be left of my dominant impulses, but otherwise, she kept me in the dark. We went back to work and, although I was very distracted, some kind of normality returned.
**********
I should have spotted that the meeting in my diary looked odd. It was at the end of the day, when the office was otherwise deserted, and involved just me, my Mistress, and two other women with no obvious connection. The subject line was vague too, but as the senior person amongst those invited (yes, I am technically senior to my Mistress at work as she is almost twenty years younger than me), I am used to people calling random meetings looking for my guidance or direction.
My Mistress was the first to enter my office. She almost matched my 6’ 1” in her black designer high heels. She smiled at me in a way that made me instantly nervous.
Following immediately was a woman about my age, around fifty, called Cathy, who I had worked with on and off for a long time. She too was tall, slim, and elegant, but with shoulder-length dark hair. She was also smiling in a way that unnerved me.
The last to enter was a young woman of around twenty-six, called Lisa, who was relatively new to the team and the company. She was shorter than the other two, maybe 5’ 5”, with a very pretty face framed by long dark hair. Her breasts were large, and she had a considerable amount of cleavage on display. I had recently started mentoring her and she looked nervous.
We all sat down around the large wooden conference table in my office. Before she sat down, my Mistress drew the blinds to my office and locked the door.
She sat across the table and said to me, “Are you ready, Slave?”
“Is this it? Is it now?” I stammered.
“Is this it – MISTRESS,” she corrected me.
“I’m sorry, is this it, Mistress?” I repeated after her, knowing already that this was it and that somehow these other two women were part of her plan for me.
“It is it, Slave. Now, I know you will obey me,” she said, “but are you ready to really trust me? Cathy, Lisa and I have, shall I say, some shared interests. They understand what’s happening here, and it will remain our secret. Do you trust me?”
I hesitated only briefly before saying, “Yes Mistress.”
“Good, then stand up and remove your clothes,” she instructed.
I stood slowly and stepped back from the table, intent on following her order, but feeling so embarrassed. The three women watched me closely as I removed first my shoes and socks, then my trousers, followed by my shirt. I had never experienced such scrutiny. I knew not to anger my Mistress by delaying or trying to cover myself, so I quickly slipped my underpants down to my ankles. I stood up, with my hands by my side, completely naked in front of my three fully dressed colleagues. I felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable, nervous, but aroused too.
Because we were friends too, and spoke intimately a lot, my Mistress really understood my fantasies and fears, and was always quick to use that knowledge, but also to push me beyond what I felt comfortable with. So, yes, she knew it excited me to be naked when she was fully dressed, but now I was also naked in front of two fully clothed women who were almost strangers.
Cathy spoke first, addressing my Mistress, “And to think I wasn’t sure that he would strip.”
“You should have more faith in me,” said my Mistress.
My Mistress then turned to me, “Slave, you will now take orders from Mistress Cathy and Mistress Lisa, just as you take orders from me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“So, Cathy,” said my Mistress, “Feel free to put him to the test.”
Mistress Cathy smiled and addressed me directly. “Come and kneel in front of me, Slave,” she said.
I did as she said and watched as she stood, worked her tight black skirt up to her hips, and then eased her lacey black panties down to her ankles. She sat back down, skirt still high on her hips, her legs parted and pussy on display, before picking her panties up from the floor and placing them on my head, arranging them so that the gusset, already pungent with her arousal, was over my nose.
I knelt quietly, breathing her in, this act of humiliation designed to diminish me a little bit further. I felt no resistance well up inside, just acceptance. I had gone into this meeting expecting to be in charge, the decision maker, but here I was, naked and on my knees with a pair of panties on my head to emphasise my complete subservience to these three women.
Mistress Cathy then adjusted the panties on my head, so that my mouth wasn’t covered and said, “Slave, you will beg for permission to kiss my feet.”
I bent forward so my forehead touched the carpeted floor in front of her. “Please, Mistress Cathy, I am not worthy, but I beg you to let me worship your feet.”
“You definitely aren’t worthy of that privilege are you, Slave,” she said scornfully, “Not with that pathetic, little, limp cock of yours. I’m reliably informed that you can only get it up with the help of a little blue pill.”
The women laughed and I felt my face redden further under the silk of the panties, but it was true, I now needed Viagra or good physical stimulation to get properly hard.
“I’m sorry, Mistress Cathy,” I said, “I apologise for my pathetic cock.”
“That really doesn’t help, does it Slave,” she said in the same lofty tone, “Now lie on your back. Arms above your head and spread your legs.”
I did as she ordered and she stood up, standing between my legs, and looking down at me. She lifted her right foot and brought the sole of her shoe down on top of my cock, squashing it against my stomach. I groaned as she increased the pressure, really pressing down hard, my now semi-erect cock squashed flat. She then shifted her foot so that the long heel of her shoe dug into my cock and pushed down hard again. I gasped, but it didn’t occur to me to resist. I really was in a different place, now able to submit completely in a way I felt I hadn’t before.
“I hope you are embarrassed, Slave,” she said, “to offer your Mistresses such a pathetic excuse for a cock. You insult us, and because of that I’m going to lock your worthless cock in a cage.”
She walked across the room and took something from her bag. I hadn’t been told to move, so I continued to lie on the floor. She returned and positioned herself with a foot either side of my head, facing towards my feet, and then lowered herself into a very agile squat before sitting on my face. Her buttocks covered my nose and mouth making it difficult for me to suck air in.
Mistress Cathy eased the pressure a little to let me breathe, and said, “Since your cock is useless, you will use your tongue. I want to feel it inside my arse while I fit your cage.”
Still in darkness beneath her bottom, I probed with my tongue and found her musty hole, pushing past its tight entrance and entering her, tasting her. She pushed down, forcing me in further. At the same time, hands were squashing my cock painfully into the cage. My cock wasn’t rock hard, but it wasn’t small and soft either. It had to be squeezed in. Then I heard the click of a lock, and I was diminished just a little further.
I realised that when my Mistress spoke about breaking me, she wasn’t talking about one great shattering, but multiple humiliations that chipped away at my sense of self and any dominant impulses, however deeply they were buried.
I could hear the women laughing again and then one of the others lowered herself onto my caged cock, rubbing her pussy against the metal. The laughter told me it was Mistress Lisa and she must have been facing Mistress Cathy because I could hear them kissing above me.
I continued to thrust my aching tongue into Mistress Cathy’s arse, gasping in air whenever I could, and I could also feel Mistress Lisa’s wet pussy, her panties removed, rubbing against the cage and my cock inside. My cock tried to harden in response, but the cage was tight and unyielding. I had never been put in a cock cage before. Even with my Mistress, up until now my pleasure, my satisfaction, had been a factor. It had been accompanied by pain and humiliation, but it was there. Now these women were telling me that my satisfaction was irrelevant.