The Path Of Submission – Part 1

Michael felt me securing the cold metal bar down, so he could not wiggle free. His collar was secured, his ankles manacled, and bent forward from the waist, the bar secured him, so there was indeed no opportunity to pull away.

I smiled at him as his eyes followed me, then bent down to his face, my lips brushing his cheek.

“Open your mouth,” I said softly.


He shook his head. ‘Oh dear,’ I thought. Would he really be one to struggle? Forty years old, in fair shape, but completely enslaved to the lust that ruled his mind, he was no match for me.

This time I said it more firmly, “Open your mouth or I’ll have to insist. And you know what that means.”

He opened his mouth and I inserted the device that would hold is mouth open. A few twists of the screw opened his jaws wider, and he tried to speak. His words were indistinct, but I think I can say with some certainty that he was not really very happy.

“Don’t worry, Micheal. You’ll feel better about it in a moment.”

Standing in front of him his head was about level with my belly. I stood, legs apart, my black panties six inches from his firmly held face. I stood there, and slowly began to touch myself.

Micheal struggled to breath, his breath coming in gasps. His mouth was salivating, dribbles of saliva dripping to the floor.

“Oh, Micheal. Don’t stare, it’s rude,” I chided him, continuing to slip my fingers deeper and more emphatically within my panties.

My fingers were wet, and for a moment I smeared then on his nostrils. Quite unable to avoid the smell, he was breathing my aroma into his nose, his chin now wet with spittle.

I continued a moment longer.

“If you continue to look at me that way, Micheal, I ‘ll have no choice but to blindfold you.”

He tried to turn his head, but the brace held him securely.

“You disappoint me,” I said, and walked to the bench, where I found a blindfold.

Once secured he calmed down a little, at least until I took the oil from the bench and poured it liberally over his buttocks.  The glistening liquid seeped between his buttocks, making him slick and prepared. He knew that squirm as he might, there was no escaping.

As Jennifer entered the room, he heard her heels. Jennifer, 5 foot two and barely a hundred pounds, knew the drill. Barely twenty years old, but confident and practiced, she was sure to enjoy the sight of Micheal’s humiliation. He may be twice her age, but she had all the power.

“Is it ready,” she asked.

“Almost. I think perhaps it needs just a little more encouragement.”

Jennifer reached between Micheal’s legs with a matter of fact touch, her slim but strong fingers unhesitating. She took his hard member and squeezed it.

“I couldn’t find one with a decent sized cock, I’m afraid,” I said. “We’ll have to make do with this.”

“It’s hard to find a decent cock on one of these,” she said, and slapped Micheal’s balls. She let out a laugh as he twisted and squirmed.

“I think I’m going to enjoy this,” said Jennifer. I knew I would too.

“Yes,” I said sitting down beside Jennifer. She handed me a glass of wine. “Do you think he’ll manage it? The bull is pretty big.”

“I don’t know,” said Jennifer, “but it’ll be entertaining to watch. Shall I start the video?”

“Yes,” I said and stood up. “I’ll get the bull. He’s hungry for it. Poor little Micheal. I doubt he’s experienced anything like this.”

Micheal struggled and tried to speak, without success. He looked panicked, and twisted against the restraints.

I reached for the control and gave him a second of the shock collar and he yelped in pain.

“Micheal, I told you. No whining! If you struggle you’ll get a longer burst each time.”

Jennifer looked at me, and giggled. “I think he’s impatient.”

“You’re right,” I sighed. “I better let in the bull.”


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