Sleep Well Bitch
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Sleep Well Bitch free porn video
Sleep Well Bitch
By srone
This is mostly a true account of experiences that I've gone
through. The thoughts and emotions are very real. I hope
you enjoy, she did.
The cold has burrowed down into the core of my being while
she is nestled among her nice warm blankets.
My legs burn with cramps as they long to stretch out while
she moves her legs in whatever way her subconscious mind
desires to afford her a restful sleep.
I try in desperation to shake the red stiletto heels off my
contorted feet, the heels that are taking up a precious 5
1/4 inches of space in my cramped little world while her
beautiful feet don't even notice the soft gentle touch of
the expensive sheet.
My jaws and lips ache as they try in vain to close around a
thick hard leather bit while her soft lips are parted
naturally as her body regains its strength.
My face is pressed against the cold, hard, drool covered
plastic of my kennel as her head is gently supported by a
soft pillow.
I can only imagine her comfort because she does not allow
me, like other husbands, to enjoy the "rights" of the
husband. On this cold November night she has decided that I
am to sleep in the "bitch cage".
A cage placed under the basement stairs. Her decision on
where I sleep, like most of her decisions regarding my
level of discomfort, seems to be purely arbitrary; a
fleeting whim that I must endure long after she has
forgotten my existence.
My night is spent not so much in restful sleep nor even
fitful consciousness, but rather in constant transition
from stark awareness of my current situation to periods of
semi-consciousness. My semi-consciousness constantly broken
by the searing pain in my cramped legs, or my body
shivering violently as it struggles in vain to fend off the
cold.
The numbness in my arms or agonizing stiffness in my neck
force me to perform the arduous task of rolling over, a
task I wait to perform until the pain becomes truly
unbearable. I'm not sure how long I toil in the simple act
of rolling over since by now my mind cannot tell a second
from an hour.
A simple innocuous sentence that took her about 3 seconds
to dryly articulate would make my already difficult task
almost impossible: "Don't forget to put on your red fuck-me
pumps slut."
Those words run over and over in my mind as I try
desperately to flip over. Usually I could roll over on my
back, but there is no way that I can contort my burning
legs enough so that I can plant my hideously arched feet
with enough stability so that I could push myself over.
Instead I'm forced to painfully bend my legs as tight as I
can so that my thighs can straighten out against the cage.
I then begin my bumbling act of trying to move my bound
hands enough to flip me over on my face, an act I really do
not want to accomplish since, when I succeed, will plant my
face flat into my own drool.
When I finally get the combination of strength and balance
my body reacts to the freezing cage floor pressed up
against my already cold chest, the thin material of my
negligee do little to block the cold. My face is now soaked
with the drool that has been dribbling out of me
uncontrollably through the night.
The act of flipping over has caused the small thin blanket
that my Mistress has allowed me to fall beyond my grasp. I
can feel it touching my leg, touching my arm, a corner of
it between the floor of my cage and my stomach, the rest of
it bundled uselessly next to the wall of my cage.
It is now that I recognize the value of the little blanket
that my Mistress allows me. A worn out little blanket that
she would have thrown away if I had not begged and pleaded
for it.
I felt completely degraded as I knelt before her one
evening begging to have the small thin blanket she had just
thrown in the garbage. I had spent many nights in my cage
during the spring and summer without a blanket and I was
terrified to spend fall and winter nights without something
to keep me from freezing.
I begged her before for one of her many blankets, her reply
was that her blankets "...would get ruined in your filthy
little bitch cage."
I struggle to grasp the blanket with my hand. It took my
Mistress less than a minute to unceremoniously lock the
collar around my neck. Her banal command of "Cuff yourself
slut." took less than 2 seconds.
Locking 2 very small chains to the D-Ring on my collar took
less than 5 seconds. Locking each cuff to the chains
dangling from my collar took less than 30 seconds. For a
little less than 2 minutes time and as much effort as
pulling a cup from a shelf my Mistress was able to increase
my misery level 10 fold. Not only is the simple process of
covering myself with my blanket a long and difficult task,
but my leather wrist cuffs locked so tight to my collar
prevents me from attaining anything close to a comfortable
position.
The cold night spans eternity. Except for the periods of
desperate struggle whenever I'm forced to roll over I lay
cramped and I wait. My mind drifts through each of my many
miseries trying to find a source of relief before giving up
in vain and moving on to the source of pain that builds
itself up to greater agony than the last. It knows the only
source of relief is my Mistress, who is sound asleep in her
comfortable bed, and does not stop thinking of her.
The stark dichotomy between us plays over in my mind,
embedding my inferiority to her in my mind as an absolute;
3+4=7, dogs bark, and I am inferior to my Mistress.
My mind drifts in and out of consciousness. Even the short
dreams that are supposed to relieve me from my suffering
are of me in humiliating bondage; so it suffers for her
even in sleep.
While my mind is cognizant it is restricted to the thoughts
that my Mistress has allowed it to think.
The agony of my nylon encased feet locked in my
debilitating shoes, the unrelenting pain in my thighs, the
complete thankfulness to her for allowing me a blanket, the
discomfort of my face as it lies in my own spittle, the
cold as it saps the strength from my body, my constant and
complete arousal, and HER! I need her so much I feel like
crying.
I want nothing more than just to see her, to see her calves
as they walk toward the cage. I think I would cry if I
heard her delicate steps as she walked across the floor
above me. My excitement would overwhelm me as the basement
door opened and I heard her softly coming down the stairs.
My ears listen in desperation to hear something, anything
that would let me know that she is awake: silence. I can't
wait one second longer to hear her walking across the
floor! But I silently wait because that is what she has
willed me to do.
I never know beforehand that I will spend my night caged in
agony. The command of "In your cage slut," starts my
tumultuous journey, the length of which is only hers to
know. My stomach fills with knots as I mince across the
basement in my fuck-me pumps trying desperately not to
topple.
It is difficult to crawl into my cage without the
restrictive bondage my Mistress has willed me to wear,
almost impossible now that my limbs are where she decided
they should be. I kneel down and clumsily try to crawl in
my cage, my Mistress becomes annoyed with my struggle and
pushes me in by placing her boot against my ass and
effortlessly pushing her foot forward.
My face is slammed onto the floor of the cage as I lose the
little bit of control I had over my body. Immediately the
sound of the cage door slamming echoes through my world. It
takes all the energy I have to turn my head enough to see
her sliding the lock through the cage hasp and to seat the
lock. The sound of finality burrows deep within my mind as
that "click" fills my space.
She has a habit of pulling on the lock to emphasize that
finality before letting if fall from her delicate fingers.
The lock bangs against the side of the cage emphasizing the
power the steel will have holding me until it is her will
that I should be released.
Sometimes before she leaves she crouches down to look at
me, or to humiliate me in the way that only she can. It
looks very uncomfortable for her to crouch down to my
level. If she stands next to my cage I can only see to the
top of her thighs, so she never stays that way for long.
Perhaps she is taking a snapshot for her mind so that she
can relish the position she placed me in, or is it to
verify the complete emasculation of her once proud husband
- I will never know.
Her remarks to me are humiliating and matter of fact: "Your
a complete pantywaist", or "You would never see me debase
myself like that.", or "What a cheap little slut."
Probably the worst is when she just gives me that wry
crooked smile that say, "You are so fucked and I enjoy the
hell out of doing it to you."
Sometimes she'll release me after a couple of hours and
sometimes she doesn't, it's only for her to decide and only
at her whim; I can only lie there and wait. My mind races
as I listen to her walk across the floor, listen to the
faint sounds of the TV as she relaxes, I listen if she
allows me to.
Sometimes she'll turn the washer and dryer on so that I
cannot even have the pleasure of listening to her relax. My
mind begs and pleads for her to have pity on me, to release
me from my kennel, a kennel made for a dog, a bitch. My
heart sinks to the core of my being as I hear her go to the
bathroom. I almost cry when I hear her footsteps trail off
to her room followed by an unending silence.
She has allowed me to hear her in the act of abandoning me.
Does she realize the effect that the sound of her boots
clicking across the floor has on me? Does she know the
effect on me when I hear the toilet flush? I cannot even
use the bathroom unless it is her will that I should!
My Mistress had me drink a glass of water before I was
cuffed up. She knew that the bit invading my mouth would
cause me to drool incessantly, but now the insidiousness of
that kind gesture is coming to light: I have to go to the
bathroom.
I'm scared now because I can feel the pressure building up
within my bladder and I have no idea when she will allow me
to go to the bathroom. I don't even know what time it is
now, nor even it's still night. My sense of time and space
has become completely skewed. My mind will have yet another
stop in its round of misery.
Time stands still for me as my discomfort slowly turns into
unbearable torture. The uncontrollable drool, my damnable
pumps, my stretched mouth, the unbearable pain in my
thighs, the unstoppable cold sapping my body, the pressure
building within my bladder, the deserted feeling filling my
soul.
Each of the individual torments combine together to bring
my state of arousal into its own form of unbearable
torture. She has created a burning craving that has
burrowed itself into the depths of my soul, a desperate
need for her. "PLEASE MISTRESS PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE COME
AND RELEASE ME FROM THIS HELL!"
I wait, for that is what she has allowed me to do.
Many hours later I hear the sound of footsteps. My
excitement is uncontrollable. My consciousness has, over
the hours, spiraled down to only the basest of instincts. I
am now at the same level as a dog, a bitch, when her owners
come home after an extended time away. My excitement at
hearing the benign sounds of footsteps is something I
cannot even come close to describing, only that it is pure
and raw.
I struggle in desperation to sit up so that I might greet
my Mistress with the respect and dignity that she deserves.
It takes everything within me to wrestle my racked body up
to kneel in a semi-prone position. The top of the kennel
acts as my Mistress's hand pushing my head down in a
servile position.
My body quivers in excitement knowing that any moment my
Mistress will come to me. The woman who I have thought
about incessantly through my eternal anguish. My entire
reason for being will come to me any minute!
I hear the toilet flush accentuating my desperate need to
relieve myself. The sound of her walking towards the
kitchen, towards the basement door, takes me to
indescribable levels. I cannot contain my exuberance. She
stops in the kitchen.
What?
NO!
Why is she stopping?
I hear water running and subtle movements above my head.
Please, I can't take this anymore!
I hear the footsteps walking AWAY from me! I almost start
bawling.
The footsteps are coming back! My excitement is beyond what
my mind and body can handle. I feel as if I am now totally
insane with desire, with overflowing and desperate
excitement. The footsteps come closer and closer, they are
directly over my head! Oh my God I can't believe she's
finally coming to get me. She stops!
NO! Please, please! Don't you know what I'm going through?
Again I hear subtle movements above my head. What in God's
name is she doing? Is she just doing this to drive me
completely insane? She must come to me now because I can't
stand one more second without her! She has willed me to
wait and I can no longer do that, but she has left me no
choice. My desperate needs have no affect at all on her
whims.
The footsteps start toward the basement door! The basement
door opens and I hear her gently descend the stairs. My
mind and body quake with reckless abandon. I hear the door
open to the section of basement I am in. I can't believe
this is real, that she is really coming to get me. I hear
myself groaning through my bit gag, the drool foaming my
face like a rabid bitch.
I can hear her walking towards the front of my cage, still
I cannot see her even though she is merely a foot away. I
see her leg enter my line of sight. I am overwhelmed with
complete euphoria. She stands before the cage and I gasp at
the sight of her beautiful leg so very close to me. The
bottom of her robe is the height of my existence, since
this is all I can take in of her. She lowers herself to my
status and peers into my world.
Before me is the face of a Goddess. Her beauty overwhelms
my senses as my love and adoration for her envelopes the
core of my soul. Her comfortable robe gracefully drapes her
well-conditioned body. A fresh hot cup of coffee rests in
her beautifully manicured hand. She epitomizes what a
beautiful woman looks like when she awakes from a restful
night in bed. What is it that she sees when she looks at
her man?
My disheveled hair soaked with my own drool. My eyes
blackened by mascara that has run down the side of my face.
Whore red lipstick smeared across my face and onto a
leather bit that grotesquely spreads my lips and mouth.
Drool running from my grotesque mouth down to my whore red
baby-doll negligee.
My hands hanging off my neck giving the appearance of a
bitch begging for a snack. A raging hard on trying to burst
from my whore red panties. Torn whore red fishnet stockings
encasing thin shaved legs. One of the stockings has broken
free from my whore red garter belt so that it lays
ungraciously at my knee. The stockings ending at a pair of
5 1/4 inch whore red fuck-me pumps locked onto my feet.
"Did you sleep well bitch?"
My mouth makes completely indiscernible sounds as I spit
out more drool.
"I'm going to go take a nice hot shower. Will you be ok in
here for a while longer?"
I tried to describe to her my desperate need to go to the
bathroom, the unbearable pain racking my body, the intense
cold that I could no longer take, but all that came out of
me was some indecipherable grunting and more drool. My eyes
pleaded where my mouth was unable.
"I knew you would be bitch."
With that she stood up and walked back upstairs. My
emotions overcame me in a wave of crying and tears. Slobber
poured down from my mouth as I cried like a little baby.
Doesn't she realize my total and complete dependency on
her? Doesn't she realize that I can not wait one second
longer for her to release me?
I wait and I cry, for that is what she allowed me to do.
I sit in the corner of my kennel and sob. I wait for
another eternity as I listen to the water cleansing and
refreshing my Mistress. The other side of that same sword
boils my urgency to pee to the only thing my mind can
comprehend.
I am no longer human in any recognizable form, neither
internal nor external. I am merely a ball of flesh
containing a ball of nerves. I have no volition, just base
instinct. The mind I previously used to analyze
geopolitical events can now only think of pee.
To think of any physical ideal of a man would not include
anything resembling me in my present state. Men do not
dress like $20 whores and drool all over themselves while
cowering in a dog kennel trying to find a position where
his fuck-me pumps will give his fishnet clad legs the least
amount of discomfort.
Again the sound of her walking upstairs thunders through my
tiny little world. Again she drives me to such an
impassioned state that I cannot discern my joy from
torture, all of my emotions have fused together into one
single form of emotional turmoil. The sound of the
footsteps have changed to the distinct sound of her boots.
I don't even know how but I find my face pressed against
the front of the cage so that I might see her a millisecond
sooner.
Each step she takes thunders through my tiny world. Each
step seems to last forever. The thunder grows louder. I am
racked with fear and anticipation, anticipating what I do
not know and fearing what I anticipate. My only thought is
PLEASE. A passionate and sincere begging that fills me and
is me. I have become only a mass of desperate pleading. The
thunder is so near now that I think it will destroy me. My
God what is happening to me! And finally the final burst of
thunder fills my world: "click".
I see the source of thunder in a beautiful leather boot
inches from my face rising up to the cuff of a pair of worn
jeans, yet far beyond my grasp. I want so badly to show my
gratitude to her, to show her how much I truly missed her
presence.
"Is the little bitch ready to get out of her cage? " she
asks like she's talking to a dog.
I have no control over my body as it hops about in its cage
like a dog; my bladder way beyond what I would normally be
able to hold. My Mistress again lowers herself so that she
can look at the man she married. She places her beautiful
finger on the cage just in front of my lips and pauses to
take in the scene before her.
I am panting like a wild dog, drool flying from my
separated lips. With the utmost ease she turns the tumble
in the lock and the lock is freed from its casing. A flick
of her delicate fingers and the lock is removed from the
cage. A simple turn of her wrist and the door is released.
She is my heroine and savior and my whole being that was
only moments ago nothing but pure pleading is now full of
pure gratitude. With no thought whatsoever my face buried
itself into the top of her leather boot. I tried in vain to
show her my gratitude by kissing her boot, but all I was
able to do was to drool all over it.
"You disgusting little slut. Look what you did to my boot."
She pulled me out of my cage by my hair and dug the top of
her boot into my pantied crotch so she could dry them off.
The pain that shot from my testicles was insignificant to
her, their only purpose at the moment was to act as a soft
cushion and drying rag for her drool covered boot. She ran
her boot back and forth, using my pantied manhood as a
buffing cloth while holding me in position by my hair. The
sounds of pain emanating from my mouth were trivial to her,
bordering on annoying.
Effortlessly she turned the tumbler in the locks that held
my wrists to my collar. She then stood towering before me,
while I kneeled prostrate in front of her. I kneeled
staring at her boots for what seemed to me to be an hour,
but was in reality about 30 seconds.
Why don't I just get up and do what I have to do? I am a
man aren't I? Why am I waiting for permission from my wife
to go to the bathroom? She has released me from my bonds. I
am now a free man. I feel I will pee all over myself if I
don't get up now and do what I need to do. Why don't I just
get up and be a man?
I wait, for that is what she allows me to do.
"Go."
She watched me with amusement as I struggled to place my
weight on my tottering heels. It was pure hell as the
searing pain shot up my wobbly legs as I stretched them for
the first time in hours.
It was pure hell as I stumbled gracelessly toward the
bathroom, damning my spiked heels for forcing me to take
such diminutive steps when I needed to run. It was pure
hell as I raced the overflowing pressure of my bladder.
Pure hell as I tried desperately not to subjugate myself in
another debasing form of humiliation. A pure hell I waited
all night for and was so thankful to finally be
experiencing.
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