The Ever further immersed in the trappings of the Black New World Order, whereas at one time, servitude was driven by Mistress, these days, my current Black King Owner Master David now keeps watch and receives photographic updates on my ongoing chastised state.

Black King Owner David also has sole control of my hole and does not let anyone have access to my Lovense Hush plug. Its hole is exclusively His, and He intends to claim it, use it and mark it for real as soon as possible.

He dictates whether I am fitted with that plug or a larger pro-size rubber plug when He is unable to use me remotely. He also chooses my lingerie outfit when I am able to dress as the slut He owns and receives evidencing photographs as soon as it is prepared as instructed.

His sub’s permanently chastised state, repeated filling of the cage each day, offering further reminders of its place, and an almost permanent heightened state of arousal mean it is increasingly more liable to leaking and ruining, the only way it can cum these days, but it is under strict instructions to collect and swallow every drop, with the fitting of a condom over the cage tip not off the table as a failsafe if it doesn’t learn the signs efficiently.

It is however, learning to recognise those signs, sensations and feelings as a locked sub, i.e., whether it is about to leak or ruin or whether it is simply a call of nature.

This is something for which it was taken by surprise with a few weeks ago when a sub’s mandatory sit down wee turned out to be a wasted shot of beta semen into the toilet bowl, much to its frustration.

My Black King Owner knows His slut’s penchant for cock and cum, wants it to continue its sexual development at the hands of whoever and takes a keen interest in when its next opportunity is at the salon.

This may be because it doesn’t always present as smoothly as He may like (He hasnt said but I read into it) or when it may regale Him with another detailed recounting of another period of use, or both.

I occasionally feel the need to apologise to Him that I do not present as smoothly as I would prefer but then take comfort from the progress I’m making through the years of going for waxing appointments, hair growth diminishing and dying off, seemingly at speed now.

As mentioned before, every salon appointment is always long awaited. As well as being an opportunity to be smoother, it is a little bit of ‘me’ time and where I can be ‘me’, and be more and more of a submissive, pursuing my most inner desires.

Another appointment came around recently, as ever, long-awaited and eagerly anticipated, the tone and purpose having long since been set of servitude and use first and foremost and with waxing a necessity to maintain that path towards being smoother for longer but also to justify the visit.

The last time I was at the salon, I presented in my permanently caged state for the first time, much to His surprise but also His enjoyment.

I was early for the most recent appointment but we were to be alone, His staff leaving the premises as I arrived, me being ushered into the treatment room, Him seeing them out, the door being firmly locked behind them.

I was wearing little, the weather quite warm, so I was soon naked, apart from my cage, within a minute or so and stood ready but in a submissive stance with my hands clasped behind my head.

He had been busying Himself outside the room but had soon breezed in with a spring in His step, seemingly eager to see His sub again and receive its service again.

He seemed momentarily surprised by the sight of the cage, as if He had perhaps not expected to see it again, and that it might have only been a temporary thing, a gimmick perhaps. But, for Him, seeing it again was like a moth is drawn to a flame.

He began by asking what waxing needed doing. I told him that I wasn’t sure, but didn’t think there was much, and that hair growth since the last appointment had been minimal.

Having identified what did need doing, otherwise, His first move was to quickly approach me, cupping my cage, feeling its weight and presence, admiring the submissive’s restricted state.

"47 days in permanent chastity, and counting", I said proudly.

His response was one of surprise, amazement and joy but my statement seemed to spur Him on, hands roaming across my body, nipples tweaked, the extent of use of the naked submissive ramping up all the time.

Assuming the role of Dominant once more, He instructed me to begin servicing His cock.

I instantly and eagerly dropped to my knees or haunches. His belt had already been drawn out from around His waist but He wasn’t going to do anything further.

I had quickly unfastened the belt, popping His jeans button, bringing down the zip and dropping the jeans down to focus on His tight fitting undies.

With His legs spread, He seemed to acknowledge my struggle to slide the clothing down His legs, responding my drawing His feet together, allowing the garments to more easily fall. However, He had soon kicked off His trainers, underwear, and jeans to one side.

I had soon gorged on His thickening, girthy and impressive cock, bringing it fully erect in my mouth, one hand gripping the base of the shaft, the other cupping and playing with His balls or cupping a bum cheek as my mouth and tongue worked, deep-throating, tongue swirling around His cock head, the end jabbing His slit or sliding across His frenulum.

His responses were audible and verbal, stating how good it felt and how well I was doing.

I must have been kneeling at His feet for some considerable time, head bobbing backwards and forwards, and with a technique I had learned to apply the act of swallowing whilst tightly clamped around His veiny, thick and hardened shaft which seemed to trigger His reactions all the more.

After a while, He instructed me to stand up with the declared wish to admire my bum and hole and asked me to spread and hold my bum cheeks apart. Having stood up, I obeyed but seemed to know where things were heading.

Having seen the full-length mirror on the other side of the room, I shuffled to my left so that I was fully in view in front of me.

All I could see was the reflection in the mirror. All I could feel was cool cream being applied to my bum crack and hole.

I instinctively bent over the side of the treatment table knowing full well that He was so turned on by the extent of how His cock had been sucked and how the sub was so very much confined in chastity, a cage He very much liked, that He was going to fuck me, bareback – something He usually held back on doing.

He made efforts to enter me but not before rubbing His cock across my creamed up bum crack, something He said he enjoyed doing.

Then, the moment I craved. He pushed inside me, His hands holding my hips for leverage and went in fully and deeply, opening me up, before starting to draw back and forth, in and out – fucking His willing toy.

All I could see in the mirror was my face, staring back at me, head down, ass up, the line of my back sloping up towards him.

“This is what I need!”, I said, “…a proper fucking!”.

I was relishing how much of a slut I was turning into.

It was quiet as He worked, the only real noise being the occasional creak of the treatment table as He thrusted in and out of me and the accompanying spa type music.

After a few minutes, He withdrew, much to my disappointment. I wanted to be fucked incessantly.

I was pushing all of His buttons.

“You’re tight!”, He exclaimed, “You’re making me want to cum!”

I took this that He was close to breeding me, but soon realised that He wasn’t done with me.

“I don’t mind!”, I somewhat desperately replied.

I wanted to finally feel a flood of semen washing inside me, something that I had yet to experience.

He dismissed what I said.

"I don't want to cum yet. I'm not done", He said, somewhat erotically and determinedly.

With that, he rubbed his girthy cock between my bum cheeks again, lubed me up some more and re-entered me to fuck me some more, much to my delight.

Again, I watched, seemingly unable to take enough of the imagery in from the mirror before me but I was watching as he looked down to see His cock go in and out of my hole – bareback – once more.

There were quite a few more minutes of Him quietly fucking me, the treatment table creaking, my body rocking with His thrusts, my hands gripping the opposite side of the treatment table, in the position I really did want to me in more often – but wasn’t – that of being a willing bottom, seemingly ever more willing, without question, to be taken bareback – and, if opportunity arose, now conditioned to be bred.

Then, He withdrew for what would be the last time on that occasion, reasserting Himself to the official reason for my presence – for me to receive some body waxing but the only part that needed doing was my arms, so, naked from the waist down, the floor littered with discarded clothing and footwear, He got on with the job.

There was chit-chat but it was punctuated by sex chat.

An outstretched arm for Him to work on needed something to hold on to. His cock was held firmly in hand and brought back to full hardness.

“That didn’t take long, did it?” He said.

The discussion saw me begin to set the tone for discussion. I said that I never really knew whether anyone else would be joining us, until the day, eluding to the fact that I wanted more cocks to join us.

His reply was one that suggested He had been unable to arrange anything but that He was still looking to arrange something as soon as possible.

I reminisced about those that had joined us before, adding that I had never really got to know who was who because I had been kneeling at cock level. He offered clarity – not that I was any the wiser.

All I could recall was that one had previously spoken down to me as a sub, after he had asked my mentor and recalled the moment.

“Will he suck my balls?”, I recounted the Dom having said back then, and that, at the time, my mentor had replied: “He will do whatever you want him to do!”.

I also recalled how this was followed by them speaking to me as a sub, the first time anyone had done that but that I had loved it.

The sex chat was making Him hard again, His cock, having recently been pounding my hole, seeping with pre-cum.

This was either collected by me and brought to mouth, or He fed me instead.

Nothing was wasted, the cum slut hungrily and eagerly consuming what was available.

With the arms done, the sex could resume.

He stretched out on the treatment table, His cock having softened. I had soon bent over to firm Him up once more.

Again, he commented on the speed at which He had hardened in my mouth.

My work was intensive, every technique employed around His manhood, slow passes up and down, fast passes up and down, deep-throating suddenly, tongue swirling, the same swallowing technique employed, lips clamped firmly around His cock, hands used to feel a bum cheek, or play with His balls.

My mouth was going up and down his shaft, either in and out, or with me licking and kissing it, again, tonguing the slit, frenulum and with the tongue swirling around His cock head.

Then, I moved down to take His balls, one by one, into my mouth, sucking them in gently and then sucking them, as my hands worked on His shaft and bum.

I could hear His gasps, giggles and words which summed up the pleasure He was feeling which merely spurred me on to further service Him.

His mind was working overtime and after a while, He asked me to reach for the massage gun. I broke away to get it, the U-shaped fitting left on, seen as suitable.

He wanted me to use it on my cage but I had other ideas and He ultimately relished them.

“Oh! You’re going to use it on me first!”, He gladly said.

As I went back down on Him, the massage gun was held against His perineum or balls as I resumed sucking and licking His cock, much to His satisfaction, evidenced by the sounds He was making.

All the while, He was trying to play with my caged cock, cupping the cage and manipulating my balls or He was loudly patting my hole or fingering it, using His slut as He saw fit.

It must have been some time later when He asserted His authority as the Dom in the situation and instructed me to rise, as he too got to and sat on the edge of the treatment table.

"Press it against your cage," He said, firmly.

Those orders were followed, the U-shape prongs of the attachment reaching around my cage.

Although the design of the cage with downward and inward curl was holding my cock down, the very loud rattle could only be silenced by using the other hand to hold the tip of the cage.

As the pulses quickly began to surge through my caged cock, the blood pumping to fill all available space and some, I began trying to work out how I might collect the cum I was soon going to shoot through being ruined, but reasoned that I would ultimately have to move the other hand under when I passed the point of no return.

The ruin was delayed, my body holding back, the pressure of the pulses of pent up and ordinarily denied semen building up, almost as if there was to be no orgasm, just the feeling of the same, but sure enough, I was going to cum. I was going to ruin, and heavily too, as my mentor had seemingly wanted to bring about.

I was in sub space as jet after jet of pent-up beta semen shot out, initially watery, then creamy, the hand moved and cupped, the sub out of control, and wrestling to collect the load ready for consumption.

The hungry cum slut was again denied the opportunity to fully swallow, instructed to put the load on His cock and suck it off.

I was still somewhere in sub space. He seemed to sense the lack of awareness I was having. He took the massage gun off me and proceeded to use it on Himself.

I took a moment to bring the cupped hand full of my beta load to mouth and lapped at it like a cat might begin to drink milk before applying the rest to His cock.

He moaned as the still warm, fresh and heavy load coated His thick and veiny shaft, but rather than go down on him, I used a hand to start bringing Him off, the hand positioned as such so that when He did cum, He would do so into the palm of my hand.

He soon came, His load being thick, white and creamy and prolonged. This was mine and I had soon drawn that hand to mouth, taking quite some time to hungrily snaffle it up and lick every last dribbling remnant from around my fingers.

I wasn’t done and knelt down to clean Him up, stating that He had yet to use the agreed safe word to stop His slut in its tracks.

He was unable to hold off much longer, the last remaining drops of His load having been consumed as my mouth enveloped His still leaking shaft, and the safe word was uttered by Him and acknowledged by me.

The sub space haze had soon lifted, and I began to clean up, tearing some paper sheeting from the treatment table top to do so, but acknowledged the thick puddle of creamy semen on the floor.

This too was collected, brought to mouth and swallowed as my mentor gasped and extolled at the extent of service He had received once more.

Moments later, I was again flattered by the praise I had received.

"You still give the best blow job I've ever had, by far!" He proudly declared.

Again, as I had done before, I modestly replied, stating that I had never had any training but just did what I thought should be done, albeit applying methods I had read somewhere at some point along the journey of sexual development.

As I continued cleaning up, He collected His scattered items of clothing, pulled them back on and left the room for me to dress and join Him back at reception.

He wanted to book me back in quite soon but I had to remind Him that the appointment had to be with both the pretense and actual need to be waxed.

He seemed disappointed yet accepting and understanding of the situation, acknowledging the slowing hair growth.

With that, the diary was searched for a favoured appointment, one likely to be when He can have free rein and free, undisturbed use of His slut sub again.

His toy, toyed.