Reconnecting With My Slave

We hadn’t met in person for several years, although the ‘lines of communication’ were always open via electronic means. WhatsApp, email, other. I say lines; with us they’re more ropes. Oft-imagined rope-strapped arms and a collar-tugging leash on top. The ties that bind emotionally and mentally, felt differently yet almost as physically keenly as in-the-flesh bondage …which would complete the life-affirming trinity.  

A suitably high class eating establishment was chosen for our lunchtime rendez-vous, after which you’d take care of the bill. When I saw you again you’d changed from the few years -but remained the same, all at once. All that mattered was that it was you, and I was Me, and we were at last together again, present physically rather than two souls connected over long-distance solely through shared perversions, creative intelligence and our consistently passionate bond.  

I noticed your response. I was watching for the signs of recognition, an instant smart level of respect as a publicly appropriate measure of deep submission, and possibly the slight flush of shame from previous humiliations which still burn your memory and fuel those all too regular erections and instantly-regretted emissions. You didn’t disappoint. Sweeping eyes slightly widened when they eventually came to rest on my face as I strode down the street towards you, the spread of a nervous smile as first greeting which was complemented by a bewitching blush I only saw upon getting closer.  

Despite the arousing scene you’d doubtless been replaying in your head since this meet was arranged, I didn’t slap you “hello”. The smile on my Ruby Woo lips spread wider as I saw the subtle shifts in your expression after my merely spoken greeting; anticipation, surprise, relief and finally, disappointment. No, you don’t deserve a slap from Mistress quite yet.  

Reconnecting With My Slave

Small talk as we walked together through the restaurant doors felt at odds with the underlying rules that hadn’t been reiterated aloud, but which we both somehow knew were still in play. No touching Mistress unless specifically invited; and that applies to all physical contact, even a handshake or a kiss on the cheek. Do not interrupt Mistress when She is speaking. Listen carefully to everything Mistress says. Be completely respectful and deferential at all times. Open doors, show old-fashioned chivalry and offer to carry anything Mistress is carrying… unless it’s the key to your chastity cage or the end of your leash. 

A strictly adhered to health & fitness routine meant my body was looking at its absolute best, and I knew you were having difficulty maintaining eye-contact with the provocative information flooding your mind and nether regions from peripheral vision. I’d chosen to wear a skin-tight dress revealing little flesh but every single curve, with stockings and long leather boots to finish.  

I was willing to bet you were extremely grateful the tables weren’t transparent, your traitorous yet always honest body responding to your Mistress’ close proximity by straining to be uncovered and given attention immediately. Perhaps you were being polite never excusing yourself to visit the gents during lunch – perhaps the slight discomfort was preferable to the embarrassment of standing.  

The conversation eventually moved beyond the small talk chatter of real-life catch-up, work, health, other… as I directed the focus to the main reason for our meet. I required a slave model for some fetish photography I had in mind, and the studio and photographer had been booked for that very afternoon. Despite online fetish forums offering up several hundred submissives in my area, plenty of whom would no doubt love such an opportunity, I only had one sub in mind for this session. The studio and shoot had been arranged to coincide with your next visit to my area, after letting you in on the plan of course.  

Delicious meal finished, my physical hunger sated but my appetite for your discomfort and humiliation only beginning to whet, the bill was paid and we left. The photography studio was only a short walk away and we had a little time before our session slot.  

If your nerves were showing at the start, they were becoming more apparent by the minute. I could tell it was getting difficult for you to concentrate on what I was saying; your mind running away with the immediate future and what might happen. What did I have in mind, how embarrassing was this going to be, and what would I make you do? I relished every stuttered reply, every subtle gulp and blush at my gentle teasing, every slight stumble and the way you rubbed your hands on your trousers absent-mindedly once in a while, palms clammy with anxious anticipation.  

We arrived. The building was a pretty normal-looking, office block type place, with a small overly warm reception looked after by one young woman. She barely registered our entrance with a flick of her eyes up at us then back down to her computer screen.  

“Got a booking? What’s the name?” 

“Cara, and yes, for 2pm,” I replied. 

“Ok go on upstairs, the photographer is on another shoot but your room’s first on the left. You can change and wait in there.” 

“Thank you,” was my curt response, then we went through the corridor where she’d indicated and up the stairs.  

Once on the landing, I dug around in my large holdall and fished out the opaque carrier I’d packed especially for the occasion. Handing it to you, I spoke with the same curt tone I’d used on the receptionist, with only a hint of the kindness beneath.  

“Here’s your outfit for the shoot. Once we go through those doors, you will once again become my slave, completely, and short of safing out, you will do everything I tell you to. Do you understand, slave? Do you still want to go ahead?” 

Your hand had naturally shot out to take the bag proffered, but halted in mid-air once I started speaking and my words and tone registered. It was only a couple of seconds before you replied, but I could see you’d weighed up your wants, and your needs, and the decision was made.  

“Yes Mistress. I am completely yours. I will do everything you ask of me. Thank you for choosing me –trusting me- with this.” 

“Mmm, yes. Good. Let’s get started.” 

As we went through to the enormous photography space, the various backdrops, the infinity curve and corner sets with various props, and we headed to the changing areas, I had to chuckle to myself. You were about to get a big shock. A thrilling shock.  

The bag containing your outfit held 5 items.  

  1. A wide, black leather collar with an O-ring front and centre.  
  2. A black leash with a handle at one end, with a trigger clip at the other.  
  3. Reconnecting With My SlaveA metal chastity cage with the keys in the padlock –for now, and I had to swallow back full-on loud laughter when I thought of you attempting to fit the cage in the predicament you were bound to be in. The chastity device was a beautiful metal cage style, keeping that clitty in a chaste, submissive, ‘wilted’ position, and a smooth metal ring which fit around the scrotum to keep it all in place.  
  4. A metal butt plug, the bulb of which opened like wings once inside, then locked into that position, only to be reduced to the smallest size again by use of a key. I hadn’t included the key. The base featured a small O-ring on a swivel attachment, something like a finger loop. 
  5. An extra-large double trigger clip. 

Oh, and another item – a note with my instructions.  

“slave. Here’s your outfit for this afternoon. I’ll be extremely pleased with you if you wear these items and follow my instructions exactly. I know you will be worried about the plug, but I’m sure you’ll be producing enough slutty-slave clitty-dribble by now to lube yourself up enough.  

Once you have the collar and leash on, put the chastity device on. This might prove difficult, but you’ll just have to try to forget about me for the moment. Lock it. Keep the keys safe, you’re to hand them, and the large trigger clip over to me as soon as you enter the studio once again.  

Insert the butt plug. Twisting the base will cause the wings to open inside of you, so only do this once it’s fully inserted. I have the key for your release later on… well, at some point. I’ll hold all the keys then, and everything will be in the right place. 

Good boy. 

Mistress x” 

How I wished I could watch as the items tumbled out of the bag before your eyes, and your mind took in my instructions and their meaning for you. Then your struggle to prepare according to those instructions, in such a stimulated state. And I hadn’t even touched you. Yet.  

With these thoughts keeping the smile firmly on my face, I prepared in my own changing area and hummed happily. I was really going to enjoy this afternoon. My made-to-measure shoot outfit slid over my curves in such a sensual fashion, particularly as the skin-tight style left no room for underwear. I’d removed my long boots to change, but replaced them once I was dressed. I swept my hair up into a high ponytail, giving me a suitably strict look, then touched up my makeup. Long, butter-soft leather gloves completed the look, and I strode out into the photography space confident that you wouldn’t be ready yet.  

I was correct; but the photographer had arrived. She was fumbling around with lenses and equipment, but upon seeing me exit the changing area she quickly came over to greet me with a warm hello. This was going to be very interesting indeed, I thought to myself. I’d imagined finishing off your preparations alone; never mind, you’d just have to deal with having an audience. The tog would see plenty more of its like before the day was out.  

It seemed like an age, because I was excited, I knew. I could feel my excitement building –not only in my fluttering stomach but in the moisture gathering at the apex of my lean, strong thighs. Eventually you stepped out of your changing area, hesitantly, one foot then another, followed by the rest of you. The parts of you that weren’t milk-bottle white were pillarbox red.  I enjoyed taking in the complete, hilarious yet beautifully submissive sight of you, stood there gripping keys and clip in one fist while the other kept you upright thanks to the wall.  

Naked except for a collar and trailing leash, a locked-on metal chastity cage –oh, and that plug which only he and I knew was in there. So far. The careful steps on the walk over to me may have suggested something else was in play to any onlookers. And we did indeed have an onlooker. Realising her presence brought a lovely rosy hue to all those still-white areas.  

Reconnecting With My SlaveYou focused your attention on me, your constant, your reassurance, your lighthouse in this storm of humiliation. Except this lighthouse was disguised as rocks today. Your jaw actually did drop, I was thoroughly satisfied to see, when you took in my outfit. It was the second time you’d seen it in real life –the first time was at a wedding– yet it still had the required effect.  

I’d chosen to wear the skin-tight red leather catsuit I was so fond of, overlaid with leather plated armour areas, a neck adornment, corset and thigh sheath forming the holster for my punishment implement. Those long leather boots with heels that you’d fallen for –on more than one occasion- and matching red leather gloves to complete not only the look, but the unmistakable contrast between us. You don’t get to even see my skin, never mind touch it. Meanwhile, you’re naked and humbled in front of me. The way it should be.  

“Come on then, over here, quickly,” I told you sharply, concerned that without clear direction you’d simply become overwhelmed and continue to be rooted to the spot. As I hoped, you followed the dominant sound of my voice and came over, shakily handing the keys and clip to me in accordance with the wishes on the note.  

“Good boy. Don’t mind the photographer, I’m sure she’s seen it all before!” 

Reconnecting With My SlaveThe photographer and I shared a look, and a laugh. Thank goodness she had fetish scene experience herself, and had been in on the plan from the outset.

I noticed a glistening in your lower regions, and not simply from the metal chastity cage or padlock… 

“Is that… yes, it is! You’ve leaked on to the floor already and we’ve barely got started.” 

Your face burned crimson with embarrassment while I simply adopted a rather smug, cat-like grin. I’m sure we were both recalling shared conversations about how a public humiliation scene exactly like the one you now found yourself in was in your top five fantasies list. You’d certainly mentioned it enough.  

“Well? Get on to the floor, all fours like the dog you are, and lick up your mess… Now!” 

“Yes Mistress,” you barely mumbled, breathless with the shame which in turn kept fuelling that denied, restricted erection. As you moved to get into position, you must have realised this would reveal the base of the butt plug buried inside you to the photographer, and left you awash with renewed humiliation. But you had no choice. Not if Mistress was to be pleased with you. So down you went, on all fours, exposing that shiny plug base with glinting O-ring, and put your collared head to the floor to lick up the droplets of your denied desire. 

Did you hear the first click of the camera? I did, and it was as soon as you were on hands and knees, on the floor, at my feet.  

“Good boy, good puppy, yes, get that tongue working, no doubt it could use some practice.” 

A small, strangled whine escaped from you, a thoroughly clit-tingling combination of your desire to obey and please, which in turn aroused you to the max, battling with the abased situation, shame in front of an audience and thorough embarrassment at your only adornments. 

I simply laughed while reaching down to stroke your head with a gloved hand. Even that contact, with the barrier of leather, should be enough to renew your determination to be the best slave for me that you could be. And you’d need to hold on to that feeling, because… 

“Oh, slave… you haven’t got your outfit right after all.” 

You’d finished licking now but knew enough not to return to a standing position. Instead you simply stayed there on all-fours and looked straight ahead, not daring to look up at my face in case it was interpreted as a challenge to my authority.  

“Look up at me a moment, boy.” When you complied, I undid the leash’s trigger clip from the collar O-ring while enjoying your short, hot breaths on my face as I bent down close. Looking you straight in those fear-filled yet trusting eyes, I didn’t give much away about my intentions. Just a smile, and a “good boy” for your obedience. 

“This leash doesn’t go on your collar today.” I walked around behind you and squatted down by your plug-filled behind. Tapping your arse affectionately, while knowing the movement would resonate the large plug inside, I continued in an amused tone.  

“This, goes on first…” I attached the large double trigger clip first to the scrotum ring of the chastity device, feeling between your legs which I forced apart for access. New droplets started appearing on the floor beneath, but you’d have to deal with those later.  

“Now the other end attaches here…” I carried on, tugging firmly so the clip pulled your balls backwards so the other side would reach the base of the plug. The O-ring wasn’t a finger loop after all… and the double ended trigger clip was in place.  

“And finally, the leash. This is what you’ve been wanting slave, isn’t it. To be completely controlled, to be led around by the balls?” I mocked you, laughingly. The camera clicks were becoming increasingly frequent. She must be getting some great shots here, I thought.  

“Yes Mistress,” came the faint reply as I finished up by attaching the leash trigger clip to the double ended one which now pulled on the large plug locked open in your arse, and your tightly ringed, kept chaste from release, balls.  

I simply “mmm”d with approval, rolled back on to my heels to look at a job well done, and fed the leash through to the other side between your legs before I walked back round.  

Reconnecting With My Slave

A few shots of you facing the photographer, leash handle between your teeth, before I took the loop in my own leather-clad hand and began to enjoy the most pleasurable photo shoot I’ve ever engaged in. From the mess on the floor –which even your tongue was ill-equipped to adequately handle- I’d say you thoroughly enjoyed it too. Through the haze of humiliation of course.  

After walking you round to the corner sets, a few poses in front of the infinity curve and contrasting loving Dominance with stern, harsh Dominatrix and humble slave shots, did I let you enjoy release?  

Well, you were unlocked. Eventually. The photographer was thanked and in turn thanked me for a thoroughly enjoyable shoot, packed up her equipment and said she would be in touch in due course with the edited collection. I only unlocked your cage and reduced the butt plug size to ‘removable’ once we were alone.  

“Thank you Mistress,” you said softly, once free, still not daring to look at me, lost in sub-space on your knees.  

“You’re welcome slave. Thank you for being such a compliant model. I’ve really enjoyed today and it’s down to you, your obedience.” 

“Mistress I… I need, want,” you hastily corrected yourself, “to cum. Please. It’s been overwhelming today. So many fantasies realised and it’s like you’ve taken one of my dreams and brought it to life. I’m so…” 

You cut off suddenly, not knowing how to continue.  

“You think you might want to cum, slave? Is that a request? Are you begging me to let you cum?” 

“Yes Mistress… please… I’m not sure how I’m going to dress without exploding everywhere. It’s so sensitive right now. Please, please let me cum?” 

“Oh slave.” I took your face in my, by now, sticky gloved hand and looked at you with genuine affection.  

Then dished out that brutal slap you’d been missing with a resounding smack.

“You know the only happy ending I’m interested in is mine.” 



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  1. This is so beautiful! It also made it so I won’t be leaving the room for a while… don’t need to be walking around hard for everyone to see.

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