[Fiction] The Decline

[Officelover]

Will Tugley had pretty much everything.

Will Tugley was white. He was a male, born a male, and was attracted females. Females born females. Will had a knack for tennis and played through high school, and now he was on his college’s team. His athletics had certainly helped him get into college, but his father’s position as a major corporate lawyer certainly played a part in his acceptance to the small liberal arts school he attended. Will had a decent brain and a nice body; a little shorter than average but slim and with some proto-abs. He was popular and had had a lot of sex, most of it drunken, over the past three years.

But now he was bored. He would stay in, even on Fridays, instead of seeing friends and fucking. He stayed online all night, opening tens of tabs at a time and searching the far corners of the Internet. Sometimes it was mundane stuff, Wikipedia and Facebook; sometimes it was arcane sites that should have disappeared in 1998. Sometimes, despite his non-interest in girls, he would watch porn.

He started with fairly straightforward, male-on-female and (of course) girl-on-girl action. It got kinkier from there. Accidental clicks led him on languid sexual tangents like foot fetishism and double penetration. He tried a lot of fetish pages and watched a lot of videos, even committing the ultimate act of sexual pretension: buying memberships to a few porn sites.

Gradually, Will found more and more that he enjoyed videos in which women had some sort of power over the men. This had never been the case in his real life sexual encounters; he liked to think he had had no power over the ladies he bedded, but he had dominated the direction of their trysts. Tugley soon stopped being turned-on by regular porn videos; they bored him, just like the sex he had been having. He started watching more and more femdom porn, reading stories of men submitting to strong, powerful mistresses on fetish websites. He liked reading the stories more than he liked the videos.

Eventually Tugley decided to start looking for, as many young men had before him, a woman to have an online relationship with. It wasn’t easy—without his identity, his father’s powerful name or his handsome physique, he was no more than another pathetic young man looking to be dominated.

He finally found one. The woman refused to reveal her name. The two chatted on Skype (just chatted, no video yet). She told him that she was willing to show herself on cam only if he was to appear before her first. She wanted to see him totally naked. He was a bit embarrassed and worried that one of his roommates would walk in on him, but he didn’t mind doing it. He could always explain that he was just changing, anyways. He stood still and then turned all the way around, slowly, just as she had asked him to. The woman then abruptly ended the Skype call.

He was furious, but then she sent him a picture of herself, a flimsy little 200x300 headshot. Beautiful. Light brown skin, with thick black hair in thin, neat dreadlocks and a prominent, but shapely, nose. He didn’t doubt for one second that this picture was actually her; there was a shocking authenticity to the photo that he trusted wholeheartedly. He asked her what her name was again, she said, “you can call me Kali.”

Then she was gone. He messaged her every day for two weeks and no reply. He didn’t want to keep looking for a mistress. He had found someone he thought he was ready to serve. Finally, after weeks of no replies, she wrote him back at 3 in the morning, “Jesus, you don’t quit do you? I like that in a man. I’ve decided that if you are to be my slave you will need to fill out everything on this form COMPLETELY HONESTLY within the next 24 hours or you will never hear from me again. Think wisely about your decision. Hope to hear from you soon, slaveboy.”

She had linked him to a form with a lot of questions. He filled out everything accurately and in depth, to the best of his ability.

FULL LEGAL NAME: William James Tugley
DATE OF BIRTH: June 28, 1991
GENDER: Male
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Straight
HEIGHT: 5’8’’
WEIGHT: 135 lbs.
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single
ADDRESS: (He put his off-campus house’s address) 19 Woodbine St., Parkhill, MA, 01202
OCCUPATION: Student

He put down a bunch of contact information, including his cell number, two of his e-mails, and a link to his Facebook profile. Then he went on to more interesting questions.

LIST AS MANY FETISHES OF YOURS AS YOU CAN: humiliation, femdom, submission. (He wasn’t very creative.)
HOW MANY SEXUAL PARTNERS HAVE YOU HAD: 25. (The douche was estimating.)
DESCRIBE THE DIRTIEST THING YOU HAVE EVER DONE: One time I was having a threesome with these two hot ladies and as they were making out with eachother I had a three-way kiss with them. One of them had had my cum in her mouth and it sort of came in my mouth, and I swallowed the little drop of it. It was gross, but really hot.
HOW LARGE IS YOUR COCK: 5½ inches (The half inch could have just as easily been a quarter.)
DESCRIBE LOSING YOUR VIRGINITY: I was in my junior year of high school. Me and my girlfriend liked to sneak off during gym class to the auditorium and fool around behind the curtains of the theatre. One time I pulled out the big guns and told her that I loved her for the first time and she started having sex with me right there on the floor. It was amazing but kind of terrible though because we got caught lying their naked, cuddling after we finished. I felt so ashamed.
DESCRIBE YOUR BIGGEST SEXUAL FANTASY: To be controlled by a beautiful woman.
WHY DO YOU WANT TO BE BLACKMAILED:

Was that what this was? Blackmail. Tugley scrolled down the page and saw places to put down the e-mail addresses and phone numbers of friends, co-workers (not that he had them) and family. He immediately wanted to close the tab, to play it safe and go on Wikipedia. He immediately suspected viruses, hackers and maybe worse, the true realization of his fantasies. Being controlled by a beautiful woman.

He was unsure of what to do. His gut reaction was to say no but his heart was telling him to say yes. Which body part is most important in the decision making process? Perhaps it was neither; perhaps it was his 5-and-a-quarter-inch penis doing the thinking. Because that night Will attached the names of his friends, a professor of his, and his sister. He gave Kali their phone numbers and e-mail addresses. What the hell? He thought. It’s not like she can prove these claims. Why should they trust her?

He clicked send, waited half an hour for a response, masturbated and went to bed.

[Sanpow]

Nice start, would like to read more

[Officelover]

The next morning an e-mail lay in his inbox. It read:

Dear Mr. Tugley,

Or, rather, as from here on out this will be your identity: dear slave,

It didn’t even take your three hours to submit the form and sign your life away. I knew you were stupid but I thought that when I gave you 24 hours to think about your decision, you would at least sleep on the matter. I recommend that you take advantage of whatever freedom and choice I give you from now on; you will need that drop of autonomy to keep whatever dignity you have left.

Because, slave, I admire that you don’t quit, and to honor that, I won’t quit. You are mine now, and I don’t take that lightly. Unless you want your professor to hear about your sexual escapades or your sister to see your dick—you don’t think I screenshotted that cam session?—I recommend that you do everything I say. I also looked up your sister’s name and I’m pretty sure I’ve found out who your parents are. Your father is Robert Tugley, the fancy corporate lawyer, hmm? I’m sure even he knows that you don’t have a case against me, you consented to all of this.

So, slave, I recommend that you do everything I tell you to do, or there will be consequences. If you do everything I tell you to promptly and are honest with me, you will be able to have some time to yourself and maybe even a fulfilling social life, if that’s possible for a perv like you. You might even be freed some day.

The first thing I want you to do is make a video of yourself masturbating for me. When you’re through jerking off (I’m sure you’ll enjoy that) you’re to take the cum and rub it on your face. Then take a selfie for my amusement. Send me the video and the picture.
I expect the files by 6:00 P.M. tonight.

Your mistress,
Kali
P.S. – you can call me Mistress.


Will suddenly realized that he was in deep shit.

He paced around his room, as he tended to. He kept repeating “shit” to himself. He caught himself in the mirror and stared at his image, wondering what had possessed him. Here he stood, a handsome guy, rich and on the path to success—he had everything and he threw it all away.

He had got to get control of himself. He looked at the clock. 10:20. That left him about seven, seven and a half hours to decide what to do. Should he do as she said? Should he ignore her and hope she goes away? Will understandably did not want to masturbate on camera and he especially did not want to rub cum all over his face. It would be adding fuel to the fire, just giving her more things to blackmail him with. But… if he didn’t do as she said, who was to say that she wouldn’t hesitate to share what she had on him? Did she really have a dick pic? Could she prove anything?

Will Tugley decided she had nothing on him. The dick pic would be blurry, and most likely did not show his face, if it existed at all. And why would anyone believe her about the secrets he told her? She had nothing on him, nothing on him at all. If he were to do what she said now, he would only ensure his fate. He would do nothing and it would all go away.

To distract himself, Will decided to go out to breakfast. He hit up some of his friends, and they had quite the day. It was a warm March Saturday, one of the first glimpses of hope after a cruel winter. His friends had missed him over the past semester. All of them remarked how they should go out that night. Of course, there would be parties for them. At 6:00, Will was sitting in the caf, eating a crappy hamburger, laughing with friends, looking at the tiny clock on the wall fifty feet in front of him. He cleared his throat and looked away.

[Officelover]

Groggy and sore, Will woke up the next morning with a small puddle of beer on the floor in front of him. He got fucked up the night before, out till 3 AM. He had been looking for someone to take home, but, embarrassingly, proved unsuccessful. All his boys had found someone. He lay on top of his hands, staring at the ceiling for half an hour before he felt that it was time for some black coffee.

Will checked his phone as it was steaming. No new e-mails. No text messages. No angry phone calls from mom and dad. He uneasily thought to himself that he was in the clear. The coffee was strong, but his headache was stronger, and he succumbed to a nap, and when the battle between the two got too fierce he was forced to open a book and do some homework.

Three days went by without incident. Will spent Sunday in a fog, and Monday and Tuesday went by quickly. Wednesday, Will went to his Women’s Studies seminar. He had to fulfill a values requirement and this was one of the only classes that fit into his schedule, so he suffered the three-hour discussions in almost flawless silence. He was the only boy in room. “At least it only meets once a week,” Will thought to himself. He hated the professor, hated the readings, and hated most of all the girls in the class. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a feminist—at least that’s not what he would say. He just hated the kinds of girls that took these classes: ugly, stuck-up, always ready to jump into conversations about ‘privilege’ and ‘hegemony’.

Then there was Jule. Tall and slender, jet-black hair tied readily into a messy bun. She always wore dark, dark lipstick, and no other make-up. She really didn’t need to. She had high cheekbones, a Greek nose and a pair of drawstring eyebrows that seemed to arch miles above her eyeline. She wore a white thrift-shop sweater two sizes too big that still looked damn small on her and black skinny jeans. Will couldn’t tell if Jule was different from the rest of them or just hot, but whatever it was, in a sea of fourteen uninviting faces hers was a sight for sore eyes.

So when she came over to talk to him before class began, Will straightened up a bit. “Did you do the reading?” she asked.

“Yeah…” he lied.

She laughed and said, “I didn’t.”

“What was keeping you from it?”

“I don’t know, truth be told, I baked cookies and got blazed yesterday.”

He smiled, “Is that so?”

“I have the leftover cookies to prove it. Want one after class?”

“After this class, I might take all the cookies you’ve got.”

Throughout class, he couldn’t stop looking at her messy bun. She sat in the same row as him, three seats ahead. Yes, she was different. He wouldn’t have guessed she was a stoner. Will was never a big smoker; he’d tried weed a few times before, with friends. Usually he was drunk by the time he’d gotten high. There was something sexy to him about a girl that knew how to relax, to blow things off, to not take things so seriously.

Three hours went by slowly for him. Today they were beginning a conversation about intersectionality and bell hooks’ theories of the politic of domination. Not very interesting stuff for someone who benefitted from that politic. He spoke up once, maybe even twice—he figured the last thing he needed was to fail this class his last semester.

When class was finally over, Will walked over to Jule’s desk. He stood there for an uncomfortably long time, waiting for her to get up, say anything. She left him there like a fish on a line, smiling and adjusting her sweater. She got up all of a sudden and said, “cookies?”

They left for her dorm. “What year are you?” Will finally asked.

“A sophomore. And you’re a senior?”

“Yep. You know I lived a floor above you when I was a sophomore?”

“No shit. Was it just as shitty then?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

They stopped in front of her door as she fished out a pair of keys from the back pocket she sewed onto her jeans. Her room smelled faintly of incense but didn’t look like a stoner’s room. Neat, but free. Christmas lights and a real bookshelf in the middle of the room, stacked tight with novels and tons of thin volumes he assumed were poetry or plays. The only recognizable poster in the room was the typical “A Woman Without A Man Is Like A Fish Without A Bicycle”.

She reached under her bed and pulled out a Tupperware container full of chocolate chip cookies. She took off the lid and offered them to him. He didn’t know if this was some kind of test, to see how many cookies he would take. He decided three would be a reasonable number. He got to work eating them quickly, complimenting her baking all the way. She took one and nibbled on it.
Then, tossing her cookie aside, she sat down on the bed and asked him if he wanted to watch something on Netflix. Of course he did, and they started streaming a movie. Will didn’t understand much of the plot of the movie, though. At first he was just distracted by Jule. He kept seeing her biting her lip in suspense throughout the movie, reacting subtly and in bare obviousness at the same time. His distraction only heightened when he began to be aware that she was paying attention to him just as much as he was her. He couldn’t understand himself, she was only a 7, maybe an 8, why couldn’t he stop thinking about her?

About an hour into the film, the plot stopped making sense altogether.

Will woke up the next day calmly. He had overslept—totally missed one of his classes. This was not out of the ordinary, and he didn’t let it get to him anymore. He felt a little giddy.

He made himself a pot of coffee, poured it and let it sit. There was a cardinal perched on the tree outside his window; he wasn’t used to seeing birds after the long winter. He looked at the calendar and thought to himself, “did I really miss my whole women’s studies class today?” The memory of that class, of bell hooks, of Jule’s dark lipstick came back to him. What happened to yesterday?
He drank the cup of coffee and tried thinking about what he did after class yesterday. He attributed this failure to the kind of thinking one does the first half hour of being awake, one before reason.

It was then that he saw a large manila envelope tucked underneath his jacket. It had his name neatly printed on the top of the front. He opened the brass fastener and pulled out a half dozen 8½ by 11 glossy photos of him naked, lying on a bed, with his hand on his penis. Written on his forehead in the last three was the phrase, “CUM HERE”. His eyes were extremely red in each photo. A note, written on a folded over piece of regular lined notebook paper said, “I suggest you do everything Mistress and I tell you from now on.” It was signed your friend, Jule. “P.S. – You owe me $40 for the weed cookies.”

Will hurried over to a mirror, as if to shake himself. There, in plain capital letters, in red Sharpie the instructions were. It was all real. It was really happening. He tried processing what happened. He must have gotten really high yesterday—fuck, he must be really high right now. Bits and pieces came back to him. A kiss. He looked as those photos—he could be sure those weren’t the only copies. He couldn’t burn them away. There could be more. Kali could have them by now.

Fuck, he thought. How did Kali find Jule? How did she get her in on this?
All he knew is that he was completely and utterly fucked. The threat just got so much more real now that he had a face and a presence associated with his domination. Kali… who he had seen once, through webcam, didn’t feel like a threat. The fact that someone was walking around campus with files they could use to ruin his life... his education, his friendships, his career…

He checked his e-mails. One from his Mistress, big surprise.

“Don’t make me tell you again.”

That was all it read, and Will knew what he had to do. He had to follow the instructions. He set up a video camera, on a tripod, in his bedroom. Recording, slowly, he slid his penis out through the crevice of his underwear. He started jacking off as quickly as possible. He didn’t want much footage. He couldn’t control his thoughts—he thought about Jule, about seeing her naked, about touching her breasts.

He could feel the semen building up in him. He finally came, into the palm of his right hand. He tried catching all of the cum but some of it made a putrid drop on the floor. He took what he had on his hands and spread the warm stuff on his forehead, right where the arrow pointed. Feeling more pathetic than he had ever felt before, he took his smart phone out, and took a selfie.

He gulped as he sent both the video and the selfie to Kali, reminding himself that it was better than the alternative, whatever that may be.

[Officelover]

That evening, finally back from a long day of classes and studying, neither of which he could really concentrate on, Will checked his e-mail, waiting to see what kind of response he had gotten. There was one e-mail.

Slave,

I am satisfied with your video and selfie, or rather I would be had they not been three days late. When I give you a specific time limit on a task, I will be ruthless in enforcing said time limit. I do not feel the need to punish you for this any more than I already have.

For slaves I feel are going to have problems doing what they’re told, I appoint regents, people to rule over you while I’m far away. Jule is not your mistress; that is my sole title. But the two of us have an understanding that she can execute almost any power over you she wants, and even punish you. The only real restriction on her is she can’t release photos of you without my permission. I know you must be dying to see me. Who knows, maybe someday you’ll be lucky and get to meet me, get the chance to worship my body. But for now, your friend Jule is the closest you will get to a woman.

That being said, I think you should know that you are forbidden to have sex with anyone without Jule or me expressly allowing it. For now, you are allowed to masturbate to your heart’s content, but cross me and I may revoke that privilege. I do think it would be funny to watch you wear a chastity belt for a couple of years.

I think it’s time for you to do a couple of tasks for me.

The e-mail went on listing five tasks that Will had to complete within 24 hours. Will was devastated; he closed the browser without even looking at them. He couldn’t believe that he had fed this whole thing. It had started out so small—just a way to chat this girl up. Now she had more incriminating evidence than ever and he was the one who gave it to her. He couldn’t believe Jule was involved. He couldn’t believe he had been tricked, drugged, and forced.

Will Tugley wanted to throw his laptop across the room and fall asleep. Instead, he sat on his bed, opened it up again, and read the tasks he had to do.

1. Put a red sharpie up your ass and provide photo proof.

Red sharpie? He thought, I don’t have a red sharpie. But there was one right there, underneath his jacket, next to the note Jule left him. Of course she left him the one he had been written on with.

Will had never done anything anal before, nothing as much a thermometer. He took the marker and held it for a while between his index and middle fingers as he unbuckled his belt and slid the pants down. He spun that Sharpie like a twirler, unsure of which end to insert it—did she want cap in or cap out? He decided he would do cap out. It looked less painful.

For the life of him, it seemed, he could not find his asshole. Maybe he was nervous. It hurt when he applied pressure. When he thought he finally found it, he slid it in slowly. For someone who had never “done” anal before, what was less than a centimeter in diameter felt like a full-grown penis. He bit his lip and wanted to take it out. What if it gets stuck up there?

He decided it was time to take the picture. He had the camera ready. He hadn’t quite figured out how he was going to get the snap. He figured he would try to do something with mirrors. Nearly tripping over the laundry basket in the middle of his room, Will backed up to his full-length mirror next to the door. He figured he would face the camera towards the mirror and take a ton of photos—one of them was bound to have his butt in it.

Yes, a few of them did. Slightly blurry, and not framed very well, but it was clear that there was a butt with a sharpie in them. Satisfied, he moved on to task two:

2. Take a freezing cold shower, using your underwear as a washcloth.

As he was sighing from the relief of the removed sharpie, he thought about this task. It was an interesting one… no proof necessary. How was she supposed to know if he did this or not? He decided to skip it, for now at least, and read on to task 3.

3. Wear the underwear on your head for an hour while you sit naked, in complete silence on the ground. Video the entire thing.

Shit. The underwear wouldn’t be wet and soapy unless he took the shower or did a really convincing job making it look that way. But what would the point of that be? Will decided to do the right thing.

He peeled his underwear away from the pile of pants he’d left on the floor and headed over to the shower. He didn’t have to take off any clothes, he was already stark naked. Hopping in, he instinctively made the water hot. Then he remembered that it had to be “freezing cold”. He followed orders, without really realizing why, and stepped into the frigid jet. It tingled and stang—it was not late enough in the year for this.

Will grabbed the boxer briefs he had been wearing and got them nice and wet. He took a bar of soap and started lathering the groin area, thicker than he had expected. He began to rub it all over his face. He moved it down and started covering his body in soap, taking off the daily dirt. By the end of the shower, the fabric of the underwear was matted and coiling.

He stepped out, maybe only five, six minutes after he got in. His teeth were close to chattering. He got the video camera and pointed it at himself. He sat down, cross-legged on a towel in the bathroom. He turned the camera on and put the boxers over his head. They were freezing from the shower—still wet and smelling like boy and Dial soap.

After a little time elapsed, it occurred to him that he had no way whatsoever to measure the hour. He briefly considered getting a timer, but realized that would mean he would have to start all over again. He wanted to spend as little time as possible like this. He decided to just wait a long time—wait for what felt like an hour. He was usually pretty good about keeping time.

He wished he hadn’t worn black underwear that day; it was very dark. He couldn’t see anything and that worried him. As the hour wore on, he shifted around more—his legs began to fall asleep—and he was instantly afraid of what the camera was filming. It picked up the little scratches he scratched, the shifts and tiltings of his head, the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. He realized that it picked something else up, another rising. Was it boredom or arousal that caused this unwanted incident? He didn’t know, he didn’t care; he didn’t want Kali getting the satisfaction of thinking he… enjoyed this. Forcing all thoughts of sex downward, he tried fighting against his body.

He endured it, he endured it, and then, at some point, he ripped the wet underwear off his face and stopped the camera. 55 minutes; good enough. He got dressed and told himself that he would do some homework, as a break, and then come back for his fourth and fifth humiliation. When he came back he found:

4. Write “Kali’s slave” 1,000 times. Scan each page.

He thought to himself that this would be easy. It’s just 10 characters, he told himself as he uncapped the pen, and one of them is an apostrophe.

His hand hurt so bad by the end of it. It was the repetition of the thing. He could have stopped, yes; done it in intervals, but he just kept going. He wanted to make sure that he had it done early. He only did one column on each page, so overall he used almost ten pages, front and back. His lettering was frayed and frustrated.

It was just such a boring task. The letters became meaningless almost as soon as it began. He forgot who Kali was and what “slave” meant. Mentally, at least—his body remembered.

5. Video yourself jacking off, using toothpaste as lube.

After all that writing, Will Tugley was ready for something more… pleasant to do with his hands. Jacking off didn’t even seem like a bad idea. Nothing he had done that day had been “sexy” to him, but the idea of being forced to do it left him with a sense of frustration he was eager to cast off. Besides, she already had a video of him jacking off. He wasn’t too concerned about giving her another one. She didn’t even ask him to cum on his face or anything.
Will knew nothing about toothpaste. He had used shampoos and soaps as lube before, while in the shower, to make masturbation more enjoyable. Each bottle had a different texture and thickness; generally, the thicker the better. He assumed toothpaste would have a very thick consistency.

He readied the video camera for what he hoped would be the last time for that day and started recording. He got a tube of toothpaste and squeezed an enormous dollop, maybe a teaspoon and a half.

His cock had already swelled up a little just thinking about the sexuality of the situation. He began to grasp it in his left hand, the clean one, to get it hard and firm. Soon enough, he took it in the right and began moving, rhythmically, spreading his lubricant all over. It was cool and had an interesting texture.
He imagined Jule. Her body naked, and his.

Then something started burning. It was a gradual haze of pain that set in maybe a minute and a half after he started. He realized it must be the toothpaste. He wanted to stop; the sting really only ruined the mood. But he knew he had to keep going or suffer the consequences of doing all this again.
He figured the burn would stop but it got worse. He was spreading it, as he jacked off, to the base of his penis; he was afraid it would reach his testicles. Then it would be all over. He grunted and groaned, clearly not in the pleasured way. He stared straight ahead, desperate to keep going.

The pain was too much. He collapsed, fell to the floor and panted. He wanted so bad to go and wash it off. But instead, he got back up again, looked straight into the camera and kept going. Each meat-flapping sound became a pulse in his headache. Touching it was painful enough, in this raw and puffy state. Soon enough, there was cum. It exploded dramatically out and a little toothpaste got in. He shut off the camera, and ran to the bathroom to wash himself off.

[Officelover]

Does anyone care about this story/actually read it?

[MisterDare]

Keep going, it's good.

[dare taker]

I read your story, it's pretty interesting
Continue it, your good

[issabella]

it is good please continue

[Officelover]

He couldn’t believe that he had gotten all the footage from those five tasks; he couldn’t believe he had done all five at all. Will Tugley felt nothing but disgust as he showered, well disgust and relief to have that toothpaste off. He didn’t want to send her a thing; he knew it would only give her more power over him, but she already had the power to compel him to do this.

Will got on the computer, naked and sitting on his towel. He replied to the e-mail from hours ago with the appropriate videos and images attached, and sent it off. He didn’t waste time.

Five minutes, maybe less, after he sent it off, he heard a knock on his door. Shit, he thought, pulling on some clothes lying near his chair. He hopped into his jeans and mussed his wet hair as he pulled the shirt on over it. He opened the door and staring at him with a little smile was, of course, Jule. He looked her over and didn’t say a word.

“You gonna invite me in, boy?” she said, chewing some gum.

Will bristled. “Sure, sure, where are my manners?” He showed Jule inside and closed the door behind them. She spun slowly in the middle of the room taking in all angles of her surroundings. He said nothing, until he did. “So, I was wondering—”

“Don’t talk unless spoken to, slave.”

“Well, I was just about to ask—”

Jule stopped spinning and edged towards him. “Ask what?”

“Ask… what this is all about, you know, what you want from me?”

“Make me some tea. Make me some tea and then we’ll talk.”

“What kind would you like?”

“If I had wanted a specific kind I would have given you a name. I was under the impression that you had the mental faculty to choose a tea I would like. But perhaps I was mistaken to think that you were actually capable of making a simple cup of tea without guidance?”

His face burned but he said nothing. Will headed into his kitchenette and took out the electric kettle. He decided Jule would like a raspberry zinger, maybe a little sugar. He decided that Jule could use a little sugar.

Returning with the stirred tea, a little metal spoon sticking out of the mug too cool it down, Will returned to Jule scrolling through his Macbook, giggling slightly. “This new footage, you know, it’s really funny.”

“Gimme that!” he screamed, prying the chrome laptop from her hands. He spilled the tea on the ground at her feet; it was a wonder the mug didn’t break. He fell back onto a sofa. Jule swooped down on him, leant in deep so that he could see the cleavage of her breasts and feel the wrath of her heat. Her lipstick was black.

“You do not own this.” She said, picking up the Macbook from beside him on the couch. “I could drop this on the ground right now, shatter it to bits—I could walk right on out with it, wipe it clean, and use it for my own. I could urinate on the keyboard and have you write my name. You don’t own this. I own you.”

She kissed him on the cheek. “Try to take it from me, Will. All I’ll do is tell Kali to ruin your life. I could send her one little text message, and everything you sent her could get out. I could do it now! See.” She pulled out her iPhone and slid it open, typing in some cryptic passcode. There the message was—ready to go: ‘I think we need to send him a message. Release some of the pictures.’

“Do you have that through your head now?”

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“What are you supposed to address me as at all times?”

“Mistress?” he guessed.

She slapped his face, and said, “Never call me that again! That is a title reserved only for Kali herself. She is your goddess. Never forget that. You’re nothing compared to me, but I only work for her.”

Will asked, “Are you her slave too?”

“Don’t bother with such foolish questions. You are to call me Miss. You got that?”

“Yes.”

She kicked him in the balls. He winced and doubled over, as she corrected, “yes, Miss.” He wretched on his elbows and knees, trying to deal with the pain he had just been dealt. “I like that pose for you, fuckboy. All right, now kneel, hands clasped behind your back.” Jule fished around in her purse for something—a pair of scissors.

“Wha-what are you going to do with those?” Will asked, apprehensively.

She delivered another swift kick to the balls. “That should teach you for speaking out of turn, and not even having the courtesy to properly address me.” Jule began to snip away at his T-shirt. He wanted to protest—he’d bought this shirt for $40, which now seemed so expensive—but he realized that no matter how much the shirt might cost, it would cost less than his reputation.

He watched the shirt fall off, and saw as she started to move the scissors towards the front of his pants. He breathed deeply and tried to stay still as she cut the button off. The jeans had probably cost another 40 dollars; he couldn’t recall. He had more important things on his mind, like the fact that a pair of extremely sharp fabric scissors was now inches away from his most precious things.

“Stop squirming,” she said, “do you want me to cut your balls off?” He tensed up right away and she cut a straight line right next to the zipped. “On your elbows and knees again, butt up.” She stood up, walked around his shirtless body. Starting at the rip at the base of his taint, Jule started cutting backward until she had split the jeans into two. Without warning, she yanked the cuff of the right leg and the whole thing slipped down to his knee. “Lift up,” she said, and she tore the whole thing off. Then the same thing for the left.

Will Tugley was painfully aware that it was a thin layer of cotton separating him and her now. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” She snapped the elastic of his boxer briefs and pulled them down slowly to his knees. “Butt up!” she barked again.

Reaching under his legs, Jule cupped his raw testicles. “Not very well shaven,” she observed, “from now on, you’ll be completely shaven down there. Next time I see you I expect you to be as hairless as a sphinx, understand?”

He burned, “yes, Miss.”

She flicked them a few times. It hurt. A bit.

“Stand up,” she said. He did so. “Wow, your penis is smaller in person. It looked about six inches in the photos. What is it in real life? Four?”

“Five and a half, Miss.”

“All right, prove it. Go on—get hard for me.”

This shouldn’t be hard for me, he thought, before laughing at the double entendre. Look at this beautiful woman in front of me. Maybe it was the kicks to the balls, maybe it was the humiliation, maybe it was the little shitkicking look in her eye but he couldn’t manage anything other than a big old softie.

“That’s the best you can do?” She laughed. “You’re a lot closer to three inches than five and a half, you little liar.” She took her black lipstick from her purse and told him to take the underwear from between his legs and lie on the ground. It was cold against his butt. She wrote, in capitals, TINY DICK on the flat of his stomach with an arrow pointing to the offending organ.

Jule backed up so that her skirt was peeking over his eyeline. He realized that she wasn’t wearing any underwear—any at all. “Now, you’re going to entertain me.” She lowered her legs and her vagina slid toward his face. He knew what to do—this he could manage. He loved eating pussy. Always had. It made him feel good. He liked it more than he liked getting sucked off. He was surprised at how clean hers was; no hair whatsoever. He thought all these feminists kept their bushes and armpits long. Jule finally started to moan after ten minutes or so. He clearly had a lot of pussy to eat. It took him a good half an hour to bring her close to orgasm.

She was clearly enjoying it. Probably the thrill of this kind of dominance got her off. She was so close to cumming; Will could physically taste it. And then the surprise—the squirt. He thought it only happened in porn. All over his face, the fluid. She laughed and sprang up and said, “Don’t wash your face for a day.”

“I’m late for class,” Jule said, looking at her phone. “I’m so glad we could have this talk. I hope you understand your situation better now, and I look forward to using you soon. In the meantime, I think you should check your e-mail once I leave. I’m sure your Mistress has some tasks for you. I’ll help you carry them out. For now, stay on the ground. Eyes on my butt as I leave the room.”

She left the room. And man, she had a nice ass.

[Officelover]

Sure enough, there was an e-mail from Kali in his inbox. Who even uses e-mail anymore? He thought.

He decided not to open it just yet. He was sure it could wait. He just got through being dominated by one bitch; the other could wait. Will didn’t put any clothes on, he just sat in his rolly chair naked, span around a few times. He was exhausted, but exhilarated; humiliated and afraid, and angry and alive and satisfied. Maybe if this means eating pussy, he started, this won’t be such a bad thing. Who knows, maybe Jule and I will…

He was feeling better already, just imagining it. Fucking her. He started feeling his cock grow, and started stroking it gently, like you would pet a puppy who’s come from a bad home. Then his thoughts drifted to Kali, to that dinky photo he saw that started this all, and he couldn’t help but find that same attraction to her as when he got into this mess.

That’s when the alarm went off on his phone—ten minutes to tennis practice. Shit. He thought, getting up immediately, and without cumming. He couldn’t miss this one or he wouldn’t be able to play for the rest of the season. How bizarre it was that life carried on even when the essence of his was threatened. How bizarre it was that what he did all that to protect felt so forced now. He didn’t want to go to practice—he wanted to jack off. I’m just horny, Will thought, I should get some pussy tonight.

So Will Tugley went to practice, and so he came home and changed. Friday night. He was so ready to go out, to fight, to go home with someone—but he remembered that sex was strictly forbidden. And then there was the e-mail…
He decided to check it. Just to be safe. It would only take a minute.

Dear slave:
I’m sure you’ll want to go out tonight, slave, and I respect that, so I will let you “party it up” as long as you follow a few simple rules. First and foremost, no sex. Sorry lover boy but you are forbidden from sleeping with anyone unless you have permission from me, or from Jule. Break that rule and you’ll be in chastity for a very, very long time, and believe me, I have ways of finding these things out.
You may not drink. I don’t want to see you drunk. At least not yet. You may not partake in any illegal drugs. You must speak politely to all females and offer to at least one of them to lick their shoes. If they accept, you will cheerfully do so. I expect a full report in the morning!
That is all.
Have fun! Party on dude!
Kali

Goddamn it, this is gonna blow. He thought, before telling himself, well, it might be all right. I don’t need alcohol or drugs to have a fun time. I don’t even need to get laid. The only thing that’s going to suck is asking someone…

When the time came, Will got dressed, got ready to head out. There were a lot of parties tonight: Friday. Normally, he would have pregamed with a friend or two, but tonight he was going sober. He hadn’t gone to a party sober in years.

Will decided to check out one of the parties the next street over, where a lot of his friends would be. He found them all smashed out of their minds. He tried to let himself relax and just get into the blaring music. He’d had such a stressful couple of weeks, he wanted escape. His friend Alex wanted to drink with him, but he politely turned him down, telling him he had to be up for a job interview in the morning.

“Want to take shots with me?” A cute girl asked him, voice nearly drowned out by the electronic beats.

“No thanks,” he smiled back, eager to please, “I’m kind of taking a break from drinking.”

“Oh,” she said, slightly disappointed, “never mind.”

“Wait! What’s your name?”

“I’m Katie, I’m a freshman.”

“No wonder I haven’t seen you much. I also have been kind of antisocial lately, to be honest. Trying to get out more.”

“Haha yeah, the whole wintertime I was telling the world ‘get out of my face’,” she slurred, “want to get out of here? It’s kinda loud.”

“Um, yeah—sure.”

He knew he couldn’t have sex with this girl, but it beat staying at this party. Parties blow unless your fucked up. They left quietly, almost separately, so as to remain discreet. The two walked around together at a calm speed. They talked about silly things.

“This is my dorm,” Katie almost giggled, “want to come inside?”

“Uh… sure,” Will said hesitantly. He didn’t trust himself not to lay this girl. The opportunity was so strong, and she was pretty cute.

She turned the key in her door, and they were inside. Her room was a little immature, filled with posters and with a slightly embarrassing pile of clothes on her side. “Sorry it’s such a mess in here,” she said.

“It’s fine,” he breathed for a long time, “so, can I ask you something?”

Katie laughed, “Anything you want.”

He sputtered out, “I… Can I lick… your shoes?”

“What?” she laughed.

“Can I lick, your shoes?”

“Oh God, you’re serious. Wow.” The sultry way of hers was now completely lost. “What the fuck, I’m drunk, why not? If that’s your thang. Get on the fucking ground, foot boy!”

He did not expect her to say yes. He did as he was told. She perched herself on the bed and picked up her heels. “Lick away you weirdo!”

Will couldn’t believe that he was doing this. He slowly extended his tongue, ever so slowly, until she felt the need to push her foot almost into his face. His tongue had no problem reaching now. He started with her left foot. The sole of the high heel shoe was gritty and worn—many drunken nights of walking. It tasted like grimy rubber. He licked the whole thing.

“Now suck on the heel.”

He wrapped his lips around the heel of the shoe, until most of the stem was in his mouth. She started moving her foot in and out, like she was fucking his mouth with her foot. It was tough against his teeth. Then he did the same thing with the other shoe.

She lay down on the bed and said, “that was fun. You want to… uh… come to bed?”

He looked at her, sighed, and said, “I like you, Katie, but I can’t really… uh… I have to go.”

“Where the fuck are you going?” He shut the door and winced, fully realizing he could never speak to her again, but not really caring. He didn’t want to speak to her again after that experience. He just wanted to go home and sleep.

[Officelover]

The next morning, Will slept late, as any respectable student does on a Saturday. He found himself lying in bed, peaceful for once, trying to keep thoughts of blackmail from spoiling his relaxation. “So this is what it’s like sleeping in without the hangover,” he thought to himself.

As Will got out of the shower he remembered what Jule had told him to do—keep his pubes shaved. He really didn’t want to do it. He kept them trimmed, but shaven just seemed emasculating. A little pube goes a long way to make a man feel like a man. Still, he didn’t want to upset Jule, or much less Kali. He took out a razor and gingerly began to shave it down, avoiding any damage. After what must have been an hour, he was finally through. “Hairless as a Sphynx.”

Will knew he should check his e-mail. Instead he checked his phone. Unknown number had texted him. “Get naked.”

Will had no idea who was texting him. A month ago he would have ignored it, deleted it, or jokingly text the person back “wrong number bud.” But now he was suspicious.

“Who is this?” he wrote back.

After some time came the reply: “It’s Kali, stupid. Who do you think?”

Shit. Another text from her: “You naked?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he lied.

“No you’re not.”

He stripped down to nothing and wondered how she knew. Must have been a lucky guess. “Do you want to hear your Mistresses’ voice?”

He thought it over. He knew what he was supposed to say. He was supposed to say yes, there is nothing in the world he wanted more than to have the privilege of hearing his Mistress speak. But the more he thought about it in the thirty seconds he took for himself, the more he realized that was true.

“There is nothing in this world I would rather hear, Mistress,” he wrote back.

“Well, in that case, you should be happy earning that right,” she texted him.

Another message came soon after: “Have you masturbated lately?”

“The last time I did was with the toothpaste.”

“That footage came out great by the way, except you sat for less than an hour with your underwear over your head. I think a decent punishment for that will be sleeping with your underwear over your head every night for a week.” She was a fast texter.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Well that will make this extra fun. You’re going to edge ten times.”

“Edge?”

“Bring yourself to the brink of orgasm and suddenly stop. Put on some porn and get to it right away. When you finish, you can call me at this number.”

Will pulled up the picture he had saved of Kali, the 200x300 pixel headshot. He pulled out his dick and started beating off. It didn’t take him long to get hard. He could feel his muscles tightening—it was gonna blow. He knew he had to take his hand off soon or it wouldn’t be an edge. He took it off. Lay on the bed, panting. Frustrated. He watched as his little guy got little. When he felt it was safe, he hesitantly picked his cock up again and tried to do the same thing.

This time he pictured Kali in the room with him, standing over his bed, watching him jerk off. He wondered what she would do. Would she get in bed with him? Would she point and laugh? Would she walk away, disgusted? He repeated the attack and release process.

Ten times he edged. He was shocked he didn’t have an… accident. It went by quick. By the end frustrated didn’t even begin to describe him. He remained hard. It wouldn’t go down. He picked up the phone, took a deep breath, tried to settle down. He called the number that had texted him.

It rang, it rang four times. Before it could finish the fifth ring, a voice interrupted, “Hello?” A low voice. A dark voice. A sexy voice. “Hello?” again.
He forgot to say hello for a minute, and as the phone was about to hang up he rushed, “Hello, Mistress.”

“Hello, slave. A bit horny are we? I can hear it in your voice. Can you hear it in mine?”

He swallowed and said, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Don’t flatter yourself now, you don’t turn me on. But I confess… your submission does. See, Will, I crave power. I could use your situation right now and get your lawyer dad to give me a half million dollars. I know that. Not only do I have the footage, I have the know-how and the will to do it. But that would be boring. No, I work a 9 to 5 job like the rest of us. And I enjoy my work. I respect my coworkers and I have friends. But when I’m alone, I need order in my life, and in my life order, I am a Goddess. Do you understand? Say, ‘yes, Goddess.’”

“Yes, Goddess.”

“I like the sound of that. You can call me Mistress in everyday conversation, but when we talk on the phone, which is a rare privilege for you, you call me Goddess. Understood?”

“Yes, Goddess.”

“I’m going to bring you to orgasm now. While I speak, you are allowed to jerk off, you pathetic piece of shit. What would you like me to speak about?”

Will thought for a moment, and said, “Tell me about controlling me.”

[WooWoo]

This is genuinely one of the best stories I have read on this site!

[Officelover]

“Come over, I’m horny.”

The text was not one Will was familiar with. With all his girls and hookups, it was common practice for him to announce his horniness and the girls to reciprocate. He was usually the one who called the booty, he was scarcely the booty-call.

Nevertheless, he got a little hard when he read it. Jule, the black-haired beauty from Women’s Studies was secretly craving his dick? Too good. And yet, there he was, three minutes later, hadn’t texted her back. He was stuck in the library, huge project due the next day. He held the phone, dumb, in his hands. “I want to so bad, but I’m finishing up my sociology project. Can I come over tonight?”

Came the reply: “Now.”

He rolled his eyes, shut his laptop and decided it was best not to tempt fate or his Mistress. Besides, he thought, I could use some pussy.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her as he walked across campus to her dorm. He wondered if she was going to have him “entertain” her again, or if he’d get to fuck her for real. Either way, he was okay with it. He loved eating pussy.
Once inside the building, he texted her to meet him. She said to just come up to the room. He walked up the stairs, and knocked on her door.

There she was. Jule opened the door, wearing a smart black skirt, a professional looking black blazer over a white blouse. And on top of all of it—a flirty pink strap-on.

Will looked confused for a minute, then Jule said, “Aren’t you going to step inside?” She pulled him by his hair into the room, watched him tumble onto his knees, shut the door with surprising speed and quietness. He found her foot quickly on his neck, keeping him from getting up. She put him in a power grip, and slipped a handcuff around his left wrist, locking it to the radiator he was near. She snapped a picture.

“What was that for? You already have enough stuff to blackmail me.”

“I just wanted to remember how you looked the day you lost your virginity,” she smiled.

Jule didn’t waste time handcuffing his other hand to the radiator as well. He wasn’t going anywhere. “Just this once,” she said, “I’m going to let you fight back all you want. I’m going to let you kick and wriggle all you want, worm. But I think you already know I’m claimed you, and I’m going to get what I want.” She bent his head up so his eyes met hers. She began stroking her strap-on. “Is that clear?”

He said nothing. She slapped his face, “Answer me!”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Standing between his head and the radiator, Jule lowered herself into a kneeling position. She picked up his head and cradled it in her lap, so that he was an inch away from the pink monster. “Good. Now… suck.” Will tried to struggle. He moved his head away. She held him by the temples and moved him so closed mouth was touching the tip. She slapped his face again and he opened in pain, and she immediately forced her way in. “So predictable,” she teased. “Are you sucking? I just want you to do the tip.”

She began to face fuck him soon after. The dildo was large—though she would later assure him it was one of her smaller toys. Approximately 6, 6 and a half inches long, and wider than a banana. She was still kneeling, so she didn’t do much fucking herself, she merely moved his head up and down and up and down. He felt like he was gagging. He wanted to scream for help, but then he realized how little he wanted to be caught like this.

Jule must have realized that he could scream too, because after her mock oral she made sure to get the ball gag on quick. She hopped up and sat on top of his back, holding his hair. She started bouncing up and down, squealing with delight. She thumped her dick against his back too. She slid down his lower back. He could feel her strap-on, wet with his saliva, drawing a line down his back, seductively slipping in between his crack.

Jule said, “now you know you’re mine.” She spread his ass cheeks and spit at his asshole. “I just hope you clean well, you know you’re sucking this clean, right?” Will started kicking and flailing his legs, making noise from behind the gag. “Don’t make me silence you.”

He wondered what that meant, and whimpered as she began sliding her big cock into his asshole. Sliding was not so much the word as ramming, very, very slowly. Then she started picking up speed. She was going deep. It hurt a lot.
Soon she was moving it a little out, a little in. She was alternating between pushing further and pulling up. She sped this up and soon, entirely within him, she was fucking him proper. He tried fighting back but there was very little that he could do, other than lay there and take it. Each pounding seemed to be getting deeper.

He had been closing his eyes in pain or looking down. Only now did he look up to see that there was a hand mirror slanted on the radiator. Even though the angle was distorted he could clearly make out his destruction. He could see the black hair, tied in a bun, remaining eerily in place. He could see her smirk.

After twenty minutes or so, she took out the dick and knelt in front of him. It was covered in splotches of blood and smelled like ass sweat. “Lick it allllll off.”

Will Tugley cried. He didn’t think it was possible. He hadn’t cried in years. Will didn’t know if it was just the pain his lower half was in or it had finally dawned on him that this was his life now. He licked it, through the tears. He knew he had to. If he didn’t she’d slap, or fuck him more, or worse, ruin his life forever. It tasted salty; maybe the tears had something to do with that. She laughed.

[Fantage]

Nice and interesting. Did this really happen?