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This is the fictional story of a husband’s slow, almost invisible transformation; from partner to slave, from lover to obedient pet.
She doesn’t break him with cruelty. She manipulates him slowly, subtly, rewriting the rules one quiet command at a time.
By the time he notices what he’s become… it’s already too late.
This story explores chastity, emotional control, humiliation, and the slow, irreversible shift of power.
Start from Prologue/Chapter 1 to witness the unraveling not with a bang, but with a whisper.
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I woke with yesterday still lodged inside me, of what Mistress had made me do, of what she had fed me, of what that meant about my place now. My tongue felt heavy as I swallowed, my mind replaying the moment over and over until the implication settled deeper. She had promised me that I would swallow more cum than I would ever produce myself after my last release.
And she had kept her word.
The thought alone made my clit twitch uselessly inside its prison.
Then the buzz came.
Vibrating through me and dragging me fully awake. I crawled out of the cage immediately.
When I reached Mistress’s bedroom, I saw her asleep comfortably, glowing even in rest and the sight immediately reminded me of that same glow when she returned from Mike the night before. The distance between us felt unbearable. The more she drifted away from me, the more desperate my craving became: to worship her, to be near her, to feel chosen again, even if only in the smallest, most humiliating way.
I knelt beside the bed and pressed my lips to her foot.
Then I let my tongue trace along her toes, slow and reverent, tasting her skin, trying to wake her gently like I always did. My clit pulsed helplessly as she stirred.
Her eyes opened lazily.
“Coffee,” she said.
I turned instantly.
When I returned with the cup, she was sitting on the edge of the bed.
After offering her coffee, I backed out and went straight to the chores.
As I worked, my hands moved automatically but my mind refused to stay still. Images kept intruding of her with him, of her pleasure, of the way she had looked when she came home glowing and satisfied. And of course the ‘reward’ she gave me.
That thought made my clit ache again.
Later in the day, just as I was finishing the chores, the doorbell rang. I froze for half a second, wondering who it could be, before Mistress’s voice drifted out calmly from the bedroom.
“It’s Meera.”
My throat tightened. I swallowed hard and went to the door.
The moment I opened it, she was right there; standing too close, wearing that familiar, unapologetic grin that always meant trouble. She didn’t wait for a greeting. Didn’t even let me straighten up.
“Piggy,” she said brightly. “So… how did Mike’s cum taste?”
My stomach dropped.
She tilted her head, clearly enjoying my silence. “Your Mistress told me you begged her for it.” Her smile widened.
She never eased into anything. Meera always came in hard, all at once, like she wanted to knock the breath out of me before I could brace myself.
I swallowed again, my mouth dry, unsure what I was even allowed to say.
She studied my face for a second, then clicked her tongue. “Hmm. Something’s missing.”
Before I could react…
Slap.
My head snapped to the side, ears ringing.
Slap.
The second one landed just as hard.
She nodded, satisfied. “There. Looks better now.”
My clit twitched traitorously at the sting, heat flooding through me despite the humiliation.
She stepped past me into the house like she owned it.
I reached for her shoes, slid them off carefully and placed them neatly on the rack. By the time I straightened again, Mistress had come out of the bedroom.
They exchanged greetings easily, comfortably.
Mistress’s eyes flicked to me, lingering on my flushed face.
“What did he do now?” she asked mildly.
Meera shrugged. “Nothing.”
Mistress raised an eyebrow. “Then why is his face glowing red?”
“Oh. That?” Meera waved it off casually. “Just because.”
The shrug, the dismissiveness of it all, made Mistress chuckle softly. She glanced at me, then back at Meera.
“I see,” she said. “Now I understand why he fears you more than me.”
Meera laughed openly at that, unapologetic and pleased. Mistress joined her, the sound light and knowing, while I stayed there kneeling burning, already knowing the day had taken a turn I wasn’t prepared for.
They settled onto the couch together, close and comfortable, as if this were any other casual afternoon. I knelt automatically beside Mistress’s leg, eyes lowered, body already tense.
They talked for a while, casually at first. Meera kept shifting on the couch, crossing and uncrossing her legs, her attention drifting back to me again and again. Every time her eyes landed on me kneeling there, her smile sharpened.
Finally, she exhaled, like she’d been holding it in.
“You know,” she said, glancing at Mistress, “I don’t think I can just sit here anymore.”
Mistress smiled knowingly. “No?”
Meera shook her head, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “Not after you gave me permission to try.”
Mistress chuckled softly, clearly entertained.
Then, lighter but unmistakably eager:
“So… shall we do it?”
My head lifted before I could stop myself.
Do what?
I glanced at Mistress, confusion tightening in my chest.
Mistress laughed softly, amused by my uncertainty. “Of course,” she said, eyes flicking to Meera. “You’re barely holding yourself together.”
Then her gaze dropped to me.
“Puppy,” she said calmly, like she was assigning a chore. “Go and give yourself an enema. Meera wants to try pegging.”
My clit throbbed instantly at the words, sharp and humiliating, my body reacting long before my mind could catch up.
Both of them chuckled.
“And don’t take too long,” she added lightly.
The sound of their quiet laughter followed me as I crawled toward the bathroom, my thoughts spiraling the entire way. Meera’s grin. Mistress’s unmistakable approval. The fact that neither of them had even paused to consider whether I wanted this because that had never mattered.
Each movement felt heavier than the last, my chest tight, my body buzzing with a sharp mix of anticipation and arousal. Knowing Miss Meera, I understood she wouldn’t make this easy for me, yet that knowledge only deepened the pull. I was afraid of what was coming and still, I wanted it.
I removed the butt plug slowly. Then I took care of the enema, my hands unsteady, my mind refusing to quiet. By the time I returned, the scene waiting for me stopped me in place. Mistress was standing close behind Miss Meera, helping her adjust and tighten the strap-on with calm, practiced ease.
The sight hit me all at once. My breath caught. A wave of arousal rolled through me so intensely it made my knees weak, my thoughts dissolving into nothing but need and submission.
As soon as the strap-on was adjusted to Mistress’s satisfaction, she settled back onto the couch, crossing her legs comfortably, her posture relaxed in the way it always was when she intended to watch rather than participate.
Meera rolled her shoulders once, testing the fit, then glanced over with a grin.
“So?” she asked lightly. “How does it look?”
Mistress didn’t answer right away. Her eyes traveled over Meera slowly, approving.
“It looks perfect,” she said at last. “On you.”
She lifted a hand and gestured toward me.
“He’s all yours.”
My stomach dropped at the words.
Mistress continued calmly, almost conversationally.
“But I do have one condition.”
Meera’s grin widened, already interested.
“I want to enjoy this thoroughly,” Mistress said. “I want to see you manhandle him.”
A faint smile touched her lips. “I loved the way you handled him the other day. Don’t go easy on him. Abuse your authority as much as you like.”
She leaned back further into the couch, completely at ease.
“Pretend I’m not even here, except to watch.”
Something inside me caved in at that.
Any fragile hope that Miss Meera might hold back, might spare me even a little, evaporated instantly. Mistress wasn’t merely allowing this. She was asking for it. Handing me deliberately over because she wanted to enjoy what would be done to me.
My body reacted before my mind could catch up. Heat pooled low, my clit throbbing painfully, shame and arousal tangling until they were indistinguishable. I felt smaller than ever, reduced to a thing being evaluated, passed along, sanctioned for use.
And the worst part was the clarity:
I was just an entertainment for them.
Meera’s expression shifted the instant Mistress finished speaking. The playful grin sharpened into something assured, almost predatory. She straightened subtly, shoulders back, chin lifted.
“Oh,” she said softly, confidence settling into her voice, “don’t worry. I won’t.”
Her eyes flicked to me then, slow and deliberate, lingering just long enough to make my stomach tighten. There was no hesitation in her gaze anymore. No curiosity. Only certainty.
“Did you hear that, piggy?”
A pause.
“You’re all mine now.”
She settled back on the couch, deliberately comfortable, one leg crossed as if she had all the time in the world. Then she lifted her hand and crooked a finger at me.
I crawled closer and knelt in front of her without hesitation, eyes lowered, posture already offering itself up. She reached down and slowly stroked the length of the strap-on, her gaze fixed on my face the entire time.
“Do you know what this is, piggy?” she asked calmly.
My stomach tightened. I knew any answer would be wrong but silence wasn’t an option.
“It’s your strap-on, Miss Meera,” I said softly.
The slap came immediately.
Sharp. Corrective.
“Wrong, piggy,” she said coolly. “Today, you’re going to assume this is Mike’s cock.”
At the name, I heard Mistress behind us let out a slow, pleased hmm.
The sound went straight through me.
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry and nodded reflexively. “Yes, Miss Meera.”
Mistress’s voice cut in at once, amused but firm.
“Oh no. Meera… would you please slap him hard for me?”
Another pause. Anticipation thickened the air.
“He’s no longer allowed to speak yes or no like a human,” Mistress continued lazily. “And he just forgot. He was supposed to bark.”
Meera’s hand was already in my hair.
She yanked my head back hard, forcing my face up and the slap landed cleanly across my cheek.
Then another.
Then another.
She didn’t rush it. She let each one register, let the sting bloom, let my body absorb the lesson. When I thought she was finished, when my breath hitched in relief, another blow came out of nowhere, sharp enough to steal the air from my lungs.
She grabbed my hair again, fingers tight, unforgiving and held my head back so I couldn’t look away.
“Don’t you dare forget your place, piggy,” she said coldly. “Not for a second.”
Another slap punctuated the words.
“You aren’t a human anymore,” she continued, voice steady, almost instructional. “You are a puppet.”
She leaned in just enough to make sure every word landed.
“Our puppet. ” she corrected softly. “You exist to obey us.”
A brief pause.
“Do you understand, piggy?”
I barked at once. I knew better than to hesitate, even for a fraction of a second. Any pause would have been read as defiance.
A slow, knowing grin spread across Meera’s face. “Good,” she said softly, her tone making it clear this was the only response she’d accept.
She had always been ruthless with me. I knew that. But now she was acting as Mistress’s executioner as well carrying out what Mistress wanted to see done to me, amplifying her ruthlessness.
That realization settled cold in my chest. There was no saving me here. No part of this where Mistress would step in and soften the edges. She had handed me over deliberately and Meera had accepted with enthusiasm.
Then she spoke again, her tone deceptively calm.
“Now, piggy,” Meera said, “why don’t you show us how you would serve and worship the cock that actually satisfies your mistress?”
Mistress grinned at this. I swallowed hard.
They were both watching me. Doing something like this in front of even one of them would have been humiliating beyond words. Doing it in front of both, under their combined gaze, felt unbearable. Every instinct screamed to shrink, to disappear. But I didn’t have a choice.
I was theirs. A puppet, just as she’d said.
I crawled forward slowly, heat pooling low in my body, shame tightening my throat. I bent, moving to take the dildo into my mouth…
Before I could get close, Meera yanked my hair sharply, snapping my head back.
The first slap rang in my ears. Then another.
Stars burst behind my eyes as she held me there, fingers twisted mercilessly.
“Piggy,” she said coolly, almost disappointed. “Where are your manners?”
Another sharp blow landed before I could react.
“Is this how you behave?” she continued. “So desperate you forget yourself?”
She leaned closer, her voice low and cutting.
“I know you’re aching to suck Mike’s cock,” she said. “But at least have the etiquette to ask permission first.”
Her grip tightened while I knelt there, exposed, silent and burning under both of their eyes.
I looked directly her eyes and swallowed. Then started to beg, the words burning as they left me.
“Please, Miss Meera,” I begged softly. “May I please worship Mike’s cock for satisfying my Mistress?”
The silence stretched just long enough to make my pulse pound in my ears.
Meera tilted her head, considering me, then nodded once and released my hair.
“Go ahead, piggy.”
I leaned forward as I brought my face closer. When I finally took the dildo into my mouth, my body tensed immediately. I had never done this before. My movements were clumsy, hesitant, driven more by desperation than skill.
I struggled, trying to do what I thought was expected of me, my throat tightening, my breath uneven. The humiliation was suffocating; every second painfully aware of Mistress watching, of Meera looking down on me, judging.
I could feel my own clit throb uselessly as I tried harder, knowing how pathetic I must have looked. This wasn’t about pleasure. It was about proving how far I had fallen. About showing them I would degrade myself willingly if it meant pleasing them.
Meera let out a short, mocking laugh as she watched me struggle.
“That’s it?” she said coolly. “Is this how you plan to be a cock-sucker, piggy? Pathetic. I’ve seen less effort from someone who didn’t even want it.”
My face burned. My jaw ached. I tried again, desperate to please, desperate not to invite punishment.
She clicked her tongue in disapproval.
“What a lousy job,” she continued. “All that begging, all that talk… and this is the best you can do?”
I whimpered softly, humiliation flooding me faster than fear.
“Try harder,” she ordered. “Show us you’re good for something. Take it deeper.”
I tried. My body tensed, instinctively resisting. I faltered, pulling back just enough to breathe.
Her grip tightened instantly.
“Again.”
I tried once more, my throat tightening, eyes stinging, every nerve screaming. I was right on the edge of what I could manage when something shifted behind me.
Hands took hold of my wrists.
For half a second, confusion flared, then realization hit.
Mistress.
Before I could react, my arms were drawn back, firmly but unyieldingly. Metal clicked closed behind me.
“There you go,” Mistress said calmly as the cuffs settled into place. “Much better.”
Then she simply returned to her seat, reclaiming it with an easy, satisfied grace, as if everything was exactly as she wanted it.
Meera said calmly. “That’s better.”
My pulse roared in my ears. Helplessness settled deep in my chest as the weight of it sank in.
I knew what was coming even before it happened. The realization settled heavy in my stomach, a mix of dread and anticipation that made my breath shallow.
Meera didn’t rush it. She adjusted her stance and placed one hand behind my head. I inhaled deep anticipating her next move. She pulled my head towards her pushing the dildo deep inside.
“Deeper,” she said.
Saying this, she pulled me even closer towards her pushing the dildo even deeper inside.
The moment the dildo hit the back of my throat, the gag reflex kicked in. I tried to pull back but her grip tightened. My head was held exactly where she wanted it, my body forced into stillness. My throat tightened, panic and humiliation tangling together as I struggled just to keep breathing evenly.
“You want to impress Mike, don’t you piggy?” Miss Meera ordered, her voice stern. “Then hold it. That’s how you learn.”
I tried to comply but with the dildo driven so deep into my throat I couldn’t breathe. Panic flared instantly. My body reacted on instinct, not obedience. I tried to pull back, harder this time but she held me there without mercy. A muffled, wet sound tore from my throat as my breathing turned shallow and ragged.
Each second stretched unbearably long. I struggled to swallow but my body betrayed me again; saliva spilled past my lips, gathering and trailing downward, a strand hanging uselessly as I fought just to draw air.
Then Miss Meera let go and I recoiled immediately, gasping as air rushed back into my lungs. My chest burned as I tried to recover, each breath shallow and frantic, my body shaking from the sudden release.
Mistress’s breath hitched as she slowly sat up from the couch, thighs pressing together, lips parting before she bit down on them hard. Her eyes never left me. “Oh my…,” she murmured, voice low and heated, “this is even hotter than I imagined, watching you struggle like a cock hungry slut.”
I barely had a moment to steady myself before her hand closed around the back of my head again. I tried to pull away, instinct more than intention but it was useless. Her grip tightened, unyielding and she dragged me forward, forcing me back into position as the dildo was pushed deep into my mouth again.
The reflex hit hard again. I struggled, chest heaving, air coming in uneven bursts. I tried to pull back again but it was useless. Meera held me there without effort, unyielding. My eyes burned and watered as panic took over. Gurgling, helpless sounds escaped me; humiliating, messy but I didn’t care anymore. Shame didn’t matter. Pride didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was air.
Saliva spilled freely now, a thick strand hanging from my mouth, proof of how far I’d been reduced.
Miss Meera leaned in closer, forcing me to stay exactly where I was.
“Look at me, piggy,” she said calmly. “When you’re servicing someone’s cock, you look them in the eyes. That’s how you show devotion.”
I didn’t want to. Every instinct screamed to focus on breathing, on surviving the moment. But I knew better. Disobedience would only make this worse. So I forced myself to lift my gaze or tried to, meeting her eyes from where I knelt.
The humiliation hit harder than anything before it. I hadn’t thought it was possible to feel smaller than I already did but I was wrong. Looking up at her like that, struggling and exposed, stripped of dignity, I felt utterly inferior.
From the corner of my vision, I saw Mistress beside her, sitting forward now, biting her lip, eyes locked on me.
Finally, Miss Meera let me go.
I pulled back instantly, gasping, lungs burning as I dragged in air greedily. My breathing was ragged, uneven, almost frantic as I tried to recover. Only then did I realize how badly my jaw ached; a deep, throbbing soreness I hadn’t even registered until now. I tried to close my mouth, to work my jaw back into place, still catching my breath.
Before I could fully recover, Meera leaned in again.
She gathered the saliva hanging from my chin, all of it, dragging her fingers through it deliberately before smearing it across my face. My humiliation made visible.
Then she grabbed my hair and forced my head up, making me look directly into her eyes.
“Now you look like a cock-sucker, bitch.”
The slap came immediately after. Hard and sharp. My head snapped to the side, ears ringing.
Mistress made a low sound behind me.
She stood abruptly. “Fuck it,” she said, voice strained, breath uneven. “I can’t take it anymore. I thought I’d just sit and enjoy… but this is too much.”
She moved toward us and crouched beside me, eyes burning as she took me in; disheveled, drooling, wrecked. Then she looked up at Meera.
“May I?”
Meera released my hair.
The instant she did, Mistress seized it instead, gripping firmly at the back of my head. She shoved me forward; forcing my mouth back onto dildo, then pulled me away just as suddenly. Before I could react, she pushed me down again.
In. Out. Again.
I had no control. No ability to resist. My body moved only where she forced it, dragged back and forth without rhythm or mercy. Embarrassing, wet sounds spilled out of me again, completely unrestrained.
Saliva began to spill once more, thick and constant, trailing from my mouth as my body failed to keep up.
I wasn’t a person in that moment.
I was a puppet; moved, used, displayed.
Both of them watched closely, openly enjoying what they’d reduced me to. I caught glimpses of Meera biting her lip now, her composure cracking just enough to betray how much she liked seeing me like this.
Finally, Mistress stopped.
Her grip loosened, fingers releasing my hair at last. She tilted my chin and deliberately wiped the damp mess, smearing it on my face, another reminder of how reduced I was.
“I think I better stop here,” she said lightly. “Before getting carried away further.”
She glanced at Meera and gave her a slow, knowing wink.
I stayed where I was, struggling to steady my breathing. My chest rose and fell too fast, my jaw aching, my thoughts lagging behind. For a moment, I honestly didn’t know who I belonged to anymore or if that distinction even mattered.
Meera was the one who finally spoke.
“For a second there,” she said, amused, “I thought you weren’t going to leave anything for me.”
Mistress laughed softly.
“I know,” she replied, casting Meera a sideways look. “And you’re to blame.”
They both laughed together, casual and unbothered, while I was still kneeling there, trying to recover from what had just been done to me. The contrast made it worse; how easily they moved on, how small and exposed I felt as shame and unwanted arousal tangled together inside me.
After a moment, Mistress straightened, stepped back and settled back onto the couch, arranging herself comfortably again, like this was all entertainment.
“Alright,” she said smiling. “This time, I’ll behave.”
Meera smirked. “I doubt that,” she said, laughing softly.
Then her attention shifted back to me.
I was still catching my breath, body buzzing, mind slow to follow. She studied me for a moment, head tilted, assessing the damage with clear satisfaction.
“I hope you learned well, piggy,” she said calmly. “We both put so much effort into training you. Right, piggy?”
My throat felt dry. I swallowed, forced myself to focus and managed a single bark in response.
Meera’s fingers slid into my hair, ruffling it almost fondly. “Good.”
She stepped back, tone changing. “Alright. I think we’re ready for the main event.”
Before I could fully process the words, her hand came out of nowhere, a sharp backhand that snapped my head to the side. Heat bloomed across my cheek.
From the couch, I heard it again; that low, unmistakable ‘hmm’ sound from Mistress.
“Piggy,” Meera ordered, “Lean over the coffee table. Now.”
I obeyed immediately. With my hands still bound behind me, the position left me exposed and vulnerable. The room felt suddenly very quiet.
Meera stepped in close behind me, her presence firm and unyielding. I felt her settle there, deliberate and unhurried, taking her time.
I tried to brace myself for what was coming. With her, gentleness was never something to expect. My body tensed instinctively, preparing for roughness, for being taken without warning.
Instead, her hands moved with surprising deliberateness.
She gently parted my butt cheeks apart, positioned the tip of the strap-on at the opening, making sure I felt every second of the anticipation before anything actually happened. When she finally pressed forward and pushed the dildo in, it was controlled, measured; almost careful. The contrast hit me so hard that relief washed through me before I could stop it.
A sound slipped out of me; loud and unfiltered.
Both of them laughed.
Meera smirked, shaking her head.
“Such a horny little slut,” she said casually. “You really do get turned on by everything, don’t you?”
The words burned more than the act itself and my body betrayed me anyway.
Mistress simply chuckled.
Then Meera began to move; slow and deliberate at first. She filled me inch by inch, unhurried, relentless, until she was fully inside. Meera positioned behind me, Mistress watching from the side, every reaction exposed, nothing hidden.
The awareness of being observed made everything sharper. The shame and the arousal built together until they became unbearable. A loud moan slipped out of me before I could stop it, my clit throbbing violently, betraying me under their scrutiny.
Meera leaned forward and grabbed my hair, yanking my head back sharply. The sudden loss of control sent a jolt through me as she picked up the pace, her movements turning rougher, more demanding.
My body betrayed me immediately. Sounds spilled out of my mouth, louder than I meant them to be, each one thick with need. Heat pooled low in my body, humiliation and arousal twisting together until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
Being taken like this by the woman I had a crush on once, reduced and used while my wife watched, fully aware and unmistakably aroused, shattered whatever pride I had left. I wasn’t a partner. I was exactly what they were treating me as… and my body responded as if it had been waiting for this all along.
Meera picked up the pace. Her movements grew more relentless, more demanding, until my reactions became impossible to hide. Sounds spilled out of me unchecked, my body arching, responding despite myself. My thoughts scattered, vision blurring as sensation and shame overwhelmed me.
I heard Mistress before I saw her; her breath hitching, a low sound escaping her as she watched. Knowing I was arousing her like this, reduced and exposed, made everything unravel faster.
Meera leaned close, her voice sharp and satisfied. “That’s it,” she said coolly. “Moan like a filthy bitch you are. You wanna be a bitch for Mike, don’t you?”
I was so aroused that I didn’t care for any shame at that moment. I barked in agreement.
She laughed softly, pleased. “Good. We’ll make sure you be a good bitch for him.”
She kept the pace; drilling into me faster, harder, deeper.
My moans grew louder, spilling out of me without restraint. My mind went blank, completely overwhelmed, every other thought drowned beneath the sheer intensity of sensation. There was nothing else. Nothing but this.
My clitty was leaking uncontrollably, slick and desperate, betraying me completely.
Then she ordered it.
“Bark, bitch,” she said coldly. “Bark like the bitch you are. And don’t you dare stop.”
Her hand yanked my head even farther back as she spoke, forcing the sound out of me, forcing obedience, forcing me deeper into the role she’d decided was mine.
I started barking automatically, without even realizing I was doing it. It felt like I was under her spell, responding instantly, instinctively, without thought.
She screamed, “Louder, bitch.”
I barked louder, my voice breaking through me. And between those barks, I heard Mistress’s moans. She must have started touching herself, watching me being treated like a bitch; actually no, worse than a bitch. Reduced and stripped down to something beneath even that.
I wished my head wasn’t being yanked back so hard, wished I could turn just enough to see her, to watch her watching me but I couldn’t. Miss Meera’s grip was too strong. Her fingers were locked in my hair, pulling my head farther back than I thought possible. Maybe she didn’t even realize how far she was forcing it.
Not that I was in any position to complain. I was completely helpless, entirely at her mercy. And if I was being honest with myself… I didn’t want her to stop. I was enjoying every moment of being her bitch.
An orgasm was never on the table but this… this overwhelming stimulation was the closest thing I was allowed and I clung to it greedily.
Miss Meera didn’t slow down; not once. If anything, the way she kept going told me she was enjoying the degradation as much as Mistress was, driving it into me with relentless intent. At some point, the sensations became too much; my body faltered, my barking breaking apart into helpless, needy sounds I couldn’t control.
Then I heard it; the couch shifting.
I couldn’t see her but I heard Mistress stand, her footsteps closing the distance. Her voice cut through everything, strained and unmistakably heated.
“This is too much for me,” she said. “Come with me. Now. I need you inside me.”
The moment the words left her mouth, everything stopped. The pounding came to an abrupt halt.
The sudden stillness was devastating. I needed it to continue, I was right there, drowning in it and having it taken away hurt more than anything before. Miss Meera’s grip loosened, my neck finally easing as she let go of my hair but the relief meant nothing compared to what I’d just lost.
She withdrew completely.
I didn’t care how I sounded anymore. I shook my body and let out a broken, desperate moan in protest and pure need but it earned me nothing. They didn’t care. They didn’t pay any attention. I was already beneath their notice.
Then I heard their footsteps moving away.
From where I was bent over the coffee table, I twisted as much as I could and looked after them. Mistress had already grabbed Meera by the wrists, dragging her toward the bedroom with urgency that made my chest tighten. Meera laughed breathlessly, half-stumbling as she pointed back at the strap-on still hanging from her.
“You want to do it with this?” she teased.
Mistress didn’t even slow down.
She glanced back just once, shaking her head with a sharp, dismissive smile.
“No. Of course not. That’s only for him.”
Then, more urgently, “Just come with me.”
Her grip tightened and she pulled Meera harder, practically hauling her toward the bedroom. The doorframe swallowed them both, their voices fading as they disappeared from view.
Mistress didn’t even acknowledge me before she closed the door. And Miss Meera who had been so close moments ago, didn’t bother either to even check whether I was still breathing, still there. I was simply… finished with.
Left bent over, abandoned mid-moment, my worth became painfully clear. Just a sex toy which just served its purpose and now left behind until needed again.
That realization should have hurt.
Instead, it sank in slowly and undeniable and with it came a twisted arousal I couldn’t explain. Being cucked like that; discarded, unsatisfied while they went off to take their pleasure elsewhere, lit something dark and familiar inside me. I was left aching, unsatisfied, discarded… and yet my body reacted as if this was exactly where it belonged.
Maybe I was already too far down this path. Even degraded and abandoned like this wasn’t strong enough to break me anymore.
The room went quiet after the door closed.
I stayed there, hands still locked behind my back, breathing slowly now. I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to.
A small, anxious thought crept in as the silence stretched on whether Mistress would remember me once the rush passed, once the wave of pleasure finally washed over her and left her calm again. Whether she’d remember that I was still here bound.
I knew I would be waiting for her to unlock me. How long though was no longer up to me.