“Would you like to come out of your cage for a while, pet?”

Hearing his Mistress’s voice at the top of the stairs, Matthew’s cock began to twitch. With each steady, slow click of her heels as she descended the steps, it grew and the restraining ring around his balls tightened, causing the attached butt plug to automatically begin vibrating. Hurriedly, he dropped off the cot and onto his knees, pressing his face to the floor of the cage in supplication, as he’d been trained.


Keeping his eyelids lowered, he unbent from the waist to an upright position, bringing his arms down to his sides. Eyes focused on her black leather boots and remaining still despite the rippling sensation of the butt plug, Matthew listened to the key rattling in the lock of his cage.


“Yes, Mistress Diana, I would like to come out of my cage.”

“You do know I am going to beat you, Matthew,” she said, swinging the cage door open. If it weren’t for the constraining ring, he would have lost control, orgasming without permission, just hearing those words from her lips.


Matthew is again lying in his cot, Mistress Diana sitting beside him. She tenderly runs her fingertips over the welts along his neck and shoulder. Though he tries his best to suppress his tears, they escape, sliding down the sides of his face. “We will have to put some Betadine on these and the ones on your backside later,” she tells him. “I was rather rambunctious with my whip tonight.” Although his body is aching and tender, he answers her respectfully, “Yes, Mistress, if it is your wish.”

Reaching to undo his restraining ring, she continues, “Once you’ve healed, I have a delightful new metal and barbed wire baton we are going to try out.” He shudders–both at the thought of future torture and the sudden grasp of her hand around his cock.

She begins slowly stroking him.

“Would you like to orgasm for Mistress, Matthew?”

“Yes, Mistress. Please, Mistress, permit me to serve you with my orgasm.”

The rhythm of the stroking becomes more urgent, and Matthew feels his orgasm building. Now he is sobbing. The pain, her touch, his need, it is all too much. He feels her breath at his ear, her hair on his chest, can smell the sweetness of her shampoo. She whispers, “Then tell me who you are, Matthew. Tell me who you are, and I will let you orgasm.”

“I am your beautiful bruise.”