The Dining Room-Dungeon Once Again
“I think you’ll feel better in restraints,” Madam knowingly suggests.
Yes, she graciously invited me to stop in, my pills indeed in her possession. But of course she cannot merely hand such to me. Madam favors rituals... and one of the most foremost is having a man strip naked for her.
So in the dining room-turned-dungeon I disrobe while she selects from her wall of implements. Her choice... neck collar and wrist cuffs again... joined by ankle cuffs.
For some reason such do imbue comfort. And I blush when she snaps on the leash, thinking of her remark about being walked naked and outdoors.
“I have the pills locked away downstairs. You can only imagine how much It would like to get his hands on them.”
I had not given the possibility much thought but note that Madam smiles knowing of the futility, It having been deprived of testosterone for so long.
“I will concede to you your dosage, Mr. Grieves, if you’ll grant me one favor,” her tone rather authoritative considering that she makes a request.
She tugs on my leash, turns and I must follow, my wrists once again secured behind me. Whatever are the ankle cuffs for?
We traverse the stairs, returning to the basement. I remain silent, knowing not to consent to anything until I am fully aware of the request.
The cages come into view along with the blue, red, yellow of Its ghastly fattened form. In nearing, the whites of the eyes once again glare, sending a silent message of unending tedium and torment.
I note in the empty cage there is a metal lockbox. The hinged opening in the front bears a formidable padlock.
“Your pills, safely secured from a much desiring eunuch.”
Madam points but makes no further move to unlock my much needed medication. Finally I must comment.
“I need to take one. It’s hours overdue.”
“Yes, of course. You would not want to endure further alteration... like It.”
Madam reads my mind... I suppose able to read the mind of any male undergoing my circumstances. But the pause continues. Then finally...
“So you will grant me a favor?”
“What is it?” I cautiously request to be informed.
“Try the cage. You’ve relished being strapped to my jerking table. The cage can bring equal if not enhanced thrill.”
“The jerking table excited because for all those sessions I envisioned you working... well... doing what was done.”
Spoken as Madam retrieves a key and unlocks the padlock.
“I’ll be firmer with my quest. You will not have the strong box opened until you enter the cage,” smirking as she swings open the heavy steel bars comprising the front access.
Besides the pills being locked away, I am cuffed, not able to grab and open.
“Go ahead. Get in. Be a good boy for me,” the matronly tone returning to that of the many sessions... when I was indeed a good boy for her.
She offers slack on the leash. Have I a choice? I kneel. As my knees shuffle forth, Madam reaches inward and snatches the strong box. In an instant the box is pulled without and the cage door closes. I am locked within.
Treachery? Not entirely. I could not open the box anyway with wrists cuffed.
“Face this way. Feet apart,” the commanding words come as the leash is tied to the top bars.
Madam deftly moves to the rear. Right ankle cuff then left are quickly secured to the straps in the rear corners.
“You’ll be more comfortable if I undo your wrist cuffs and connect then to the front corner straps. Long term bondage, comfort is important.”
She is correct of course. The limited height of the cage will not permit me to kneel upright. The leash will not permit me to lean totally forward and rest my head on the bottom bars. I quickly conclude any standoff in ignoring her suggestion will result in very slow wearing of my stomach and back muscles.
“You’re well secured. You may as well be cozy.”
She reaches within and attaches a long strap from the right corner to my right wrist.
“I can get the cattle prod... you may as well yield...”
I do. Within another minute, unhooking the connected cuffs and pulling in the corner straps, I am guided to all fours... hands and feet well apart... tethered to the bars of the cage just as is It.... except graciously, I do not have chains holding my head at the ears.
“How long?”
Madam laughs.
“It was caged for three months while I assured his transformation. First the elastrator. Then the tattooing was delightfully slow. And with the branding... he shrieked like a little girl. Only then did he realize there was no going back... his balls were gone... his money was gone... his life was gone. Long term bondage, physical alteration, emotional stress. He really no longer needs to be physically secured. He just feels better when I restrain him... the tighter the better.”
Madam reaches within and taps my nose.
“Let’s see how you feel knowing that you’re pleasing me,” the hand retreating as she turns toward Its cage.
“What about my pill?”
“Perhaps later. It has an appointment with a woman who relishes bamboo.”
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