Sleep Well Bitch free porn video

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This is mostly a true account of experiences that I've gone 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 rubber 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 does 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 thin 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 beautiful 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 into my cage. My Mistress becomes annoyed with my struggle and pushes me in by placing her boot against my pantied 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: "You?re a complete pantywaist", or "You couldn?t get me to spend a night in a bitch kennel.", or "Sleep well bitch."  Probably the worst is when she just gives me that wry crooked smile that says, "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 if 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 damn 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 all belong to her. Each of the individual torments combine together to bring my state of arousal into its own form of unbearable torture. The sensation of the feminine material caressing my body is almost unbearably sensual. 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 NEED YOU! I WANT YOU! I LOVE YOU!" 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 into 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 excitement. 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 rubber 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 lies ungraciously at my knee. The stockings ending at a pair of 5 1/4 inch 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, my overwhelming desire, my desperate need, to be with her, 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 so far beyond my grasp. I want so desperatly 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 coos 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 before 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.

 

I also know it won?t be long before I crave another night in the cage.

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 rubber 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 does 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 thin 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 beautiful 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 into my cage. My Mistress becomes annoyed with my struggle and pushes me in by placing her boot against my pantied 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: "You?re a complete pantywaist", or "You couldn?t get me to spend a night in a bitch kennel.", or "Sleep well bitch." 
 
Probably the worst is when she just gives me that wry crooked smile that says, "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 if 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 damn 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 all belong to her. Each of the individual torments combine together to bring my state of arousal into its own form of unbearable torture. The sensation of the feminine material caressing my body is almost unbearably sensual. 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 NEED YOU! I WANT YOU! I LOVE YOU!"
 
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 into 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 excitement. 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 rubber 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 lies ungraciously at my knee. The stockings ending at a pair of 5 1/4 inch 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, my overwhelming desire, my desperate need, to be with her, 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 so far beyond my grasp. I want so desperatly 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 coos 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 before 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.

 

I also know it won?t be long before I crave another night in the cage.

-->
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It was a warm summer night.I had just turned 18,so I thought i,d take in the local club.I got all dressed up,a short little leather mini skirt,black thigh high,s,satin black pantie,s,black bra and white blouse.I know I dress like a slut,but hey it,s saturday nite.I walked into the club,it was real quiet,but it was early yet.I went to the conner of the bar and ordered a beer.I was sipping on my beer when a man walked up and said have,nt seen u in here before,well no this is my first time just...

2 years ago
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Being Brittanys Bitch

Being Brittany's Bitch It all started innocently enough. Okay, maybe not. I had heard the one and only Brittany Andrews was back in LA for one night only before heading on the road for a few months, so I lied to the wife and took off for the club. Of course, by the time Brittany got on stage, I had had a lot to drink, and had also gotten up close to the stage, so I could see the whole show. During her dominatrix routine, she grabbed me and said, "Is this as close as you've ever been to...

1 year ago
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Hunting Down Evil Bitches

I’m going to be brutally honest here, folks. I hate bitches. I hate everything about them. They’re wicked, evil and manipulative. They think that having a vagina grants them special rights. They ruin the lives of good men. They destroy entire families. They bring down whole organizations. They are agents of chaos and destruction and I hate them for it. I pity any fool who gives away his love, his money or his trust to a bitch. What I really hate about bitches is their total lack of remorse...

3 years ago
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Biker Bitch

The following story is true my wife and I were only18 and 19 at the time. Rick and his biker friends took my wifes ass virginity and turned her into a cock hungry woman. After her first gang bang she wanted to try everythng and anything. This was only the start.... We arrived at out motel and quickly went out with a friend for supper. We returned a short time later only to find 2 men waiting outside our room, we were told that their boss wanted to see us in room 120. We asked what this...

3 years ago
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Little Farm of Horror Part 1 Charles Becomes a Bitch

This is my First story ever written. Email comments, criticisms and blatant praise to [email protected] this story is also complete fiction everything in it is nothing more than the twisted fantasies of the writer. The writer does not condone mind control or rape in any form. (Unless the writer is the one being raped or mind controlled) Little Farm of Horror Part 1 Charles had been driving for hours. He was getting worried, very worried. The last gas station he had...

2 years ago
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Maxwell and Janet

Janet ‘Oh my. Oh. Yes, Yes, Yes, work it. Right there, yes.’ He was finally done. He rolled over and was gasping for air like he was in a marathon. ‘You liked it baby?’ Dixon asked. I put on a fake smile. ‘Baby, do you really need to ask?’ Couldn’t he tell by the fucking fake screams? ‘You right baby. I’ll see you in the morning.’ Every time I look at this puta I ask myself why I am with him. I can’t believe I lost my virginity to him those months ago. I went to sleep disgusted....

2 years ago
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How my girlfriend turned me into her sissy bitch

Her Perfect Ass And Evil Sexy Dirty Looks Mind Fucked Me Into Wanting To Be A Girl Rather Than Fuck One......as this naive, innocent, christian, bible believing 20 something gave me the best sex of my life with a reach around, as I would cum, she would whisper "Not bad for a cock sucker. LOSER!" and then push me away, stand up, look at me in disgust with those evil sexy eyes that would become so powerful as she threw me the meanest, 'fuck you, loser' look ever, then she would leave, her perfect...

2 years ago
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Whoring My Hos And A Bitch

It was fairly easy to notice that Mrs. Graham, our high school senior teacher, was constantly looking at the black boys crotches in class. The only problem was she finally looked at the wrong one. Mine.I stayed after the other k**s left class that evening to test my theory. She didn't notice as I watched her cleaning the blackboard. Her large hips swayed with each rub across the board. Her dress was fairly low cut for a lady in her mid 40s but her legs were nicely firm. She turned around and...

2 years ago
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My Hos And A Bitch

It was fairly easy to notice that Mrs. Graham, our high school senior teacher, was constantly looking at the black boys crotches in class. The only problem was she finally looked at the wrong one. Mine. I stayed after the other students left class that evening to test my theory. She didn’t notice as I watched her cleaning the blackboard. Her large hips swayed with each rub across the board. Her dress was fairly low cut for a lady in her mid 40s but her legs were nicely firm. She turned...

3 years ago
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Jackis Bitches

Jacki's BitchesBy ReddbunnzChapter One:  Carol?s Parents ReturnCarol was sitting in the parlor of her Uncle Rob?s home awaiting the arrival of her parents.  Carol, an 18 year old high school senior, was staying with her Uncle and his girlfriend, Joy, in order to finish high school while her parents were on an extended, three-month long European vacation. Carol was not only wanted to see them again, but she suddenly realized how much she had missed them both dearly.  Carol loved both her Uncle...

4 years ago
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Bottom Bitch

Bottom BitchBy [email protected] me set the scene. My name is Mike, as a "Gurl" I go by Fiona. I am a gay man, mid thrities,white, 5' 9'165, reasonably handsome, both in and out of women's clothes. One of theways I express my sexuality is to dress as a woman and get fucked byother men. Preferably in a humiliating situation, with several guys fuckingme.Just one of my kinks.~This night was the second time I had gone with Anthony. The first time wasthe Friday Night before.I dressed in 3...

3 years ago
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becoming a bitch

Becoming a BitchIt was supposed to be simple. A blind date, set up online. A hot chick. Me getting laid for the first timein a while. You know. Simple. And that's what actually happened. Sort of.I get to the bar, I see Meghan across the way, sitting pretty in a short black dress, legs crossed,sipping on a martini like she's sucking my cock already. Far as I'm concerned, I'm as good as fucked,the way she's making herself out to be: smooth thighs, big, round tits, lips that could blow the cap...

2 years ago
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The Making of a True Bitch

I shouldn't have been surprised when she confessed having a sexual curiosity towards my large male German Shepherd, Lex. Lex was a pretty horny beast, always humping furniture and legs. Anna admitted it turned her on knowing the dog was horny and eager to fuck a bitch. We'd been together a few months and I'd entertained numerous Daddy fantasies and schoolgirl fantasies, not to mention a rape scene. But I'd never once considered involving my dog in our sex life... She wanted the dog in...

2 years ago
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punishing bitch

"You should eat." I told her. She looked up at me with hateful eyes and said "Why, so I have energy when you rape me?" the words flew out of her mouth in an angry flurry. I looked at her coldly. I figured there would come a point when bitch got so full of hate that she back talked me. I wasn't surprised by her actions. But I would punish her for her words. She was my property. My truck wouldn't stall out of spite, and bitch will learn not to be disrespectful to her master. I...

3 years ago
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becomiing a bitch

It was supposed to be simple. A blind date, set up online. A hot chick. Me getting laid for the first timein a while. You know. Simple. And that's what actually happened. Sort of.I get to the bar, I see Meghan across the way, sitting pretty in a short black dress, legs crossed,sipping on a martini like she's sucking my cock already. Far as I'm concerned, I'm as good as fucked,the way she's making herself out to be: smooth thighs, big, round tits, lips that could blow the cap offa bottle of Bud,...

3 years ago
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Linda Part II Becoming Sires Bitch

Last night, Linda had succumbed to my 'trickery' and had allowed herself to be mounted and thoroughly fucked by Sire, our Juvenile Golden Retriever. She had said she liked it and depending on how guilty she felt afterward would determine whether she would allow it to occur again. I was determined to not let a silly thing like guilt stand in the way of us opening up our sexual horizons. Linda was naturally submissive. As I mentioned in Part I she had fantasies of being tied up and used...

3 years ago
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Linda Part II Becoming Sires Bitch

Introduction: The beginning wasnt enough *** This is the second installment in a continuing saga. I recommend you go back and read Linda Part I Beginnings or the context of the story may be lost to you. Last night, Linda had succumbed to my trickery and had allowed herself to be mounted and thoroughly fucked by Sire, our Juvenile Golden Retriever. She had said she liked it and depending on how guilty she felt afterward would determine whether she would allow it to occur again. I was determined...

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