[FM] Becoming my Landlord’s Pet (Part Nineteen)

It was a cold friday morning, aside from the space heater trying it’s hardest to keep the cellar warm, the room was otherwise desolate. Two cupboards were long ago installed on one of the walls, and Michelle took to storing her tools for the weekend out of sight of my curious, concerned eyes. The two windows were at ground level from the outside, long ago painted over, allowing little natural light into my weekend suite. I guessed they were on the driveway side of the house, but I had no way of knowing. A metal pole was cemented into the middle of the room; a customary staple of any basement. A few overhead lights were devoid of any shade or fixture, a simple pull string swung in a circular motion when Michelle turned the nearest one on before starting on my bondage. The floor was grey, recently painted it appeared, and housed a small drain in the middle of the room. Other than a great many metal eyelets drilled into the cement walls and wooden beams in various spots, there was nothing else to observe for now.

I tried to pry details from Michelle over the week for what she had planned, exactly. She was vague, not wanting to ruin any surprise. I understood as this was obviously how she operated.

She did, however, inform me that I would not have any outside contact for *72 hours.*

I made sure she had my phone just in case anything arose that needed attention or could potentially interrupt our weekend. I would be lying if I said I weren’t nervous, and Michelle was very caring and reassuring without ruining the mystique of power and dominance that drove the build-up to our dates and scenes so much into the upper levels of arousal. I wanted to know what she had planned. I also knew it was best I didn’t.

I was naked, save for the metal cage that had since taken up permanent residence onto my cock. Stripped of my clothes and led down to the basement under her offices, three locked doors seperated me not from *freedom*, but more like *discovery*.

My hands were locked into my all too familiar fist mitts before being latched together, and then locked onto a chain that dangled about a foot down my back which itself was locked onto my metal slave collar. My mitted hands rested above the small of my back, mobility completely limited. Another chain locked itself onto the metal ring adorning the front of the collar. Michelle stood on a small ladder to then, once again, lock my new leash to an eyelet drilled into the wooden beams that criss crossed the basement.

I loved watching her work. Adjusting the various toys she placed on my body, looking over what she brought down, standing back and observing me like a piece of art. All while in the same outfit she would later wear into a trial. No frills, no huge heels, no leather corsets, no garter-belts or lingerie of any sort. Right to the chase. Her style of knowing she didn’t need to lather on the BDSM aesthetic made my own predicaments that much more humiliating. She was going to use me how she pleased, and go on with her day. All efforts were focused on me. I loved that.

Wireless earbuds were placed into my ears, a departure from the usual earplugs that always left me deaf. Quickly followed by a neoprene hood (also new). The groans of the fabric crinkled as my landlord placed me in the dark. Two panels snapped onto the front, allowing access to my mouth and the ability to blindfold me. A few squirts of lube and a vibrating egg was pressed passed my tight butthole and flipped on. A deep breathe as my hole closed around the egg and the first moan of the day was met with a pinch to my nipples, which hardened them and allowed the nipple suckers a proper target to land. A few twists on the plastic tubes that sucked upon my nipples finished that torture. I watched her intently from behind my hood as she walked back towards me with an inflatable gag. The panel held the butterfly-style gag into my mouth, locked behind my teeth in one violent motion, and with a few fast pumps of the bulb dangling from the end of the hose my mouth was stuffed to the brink. This was a strict and non-nonsense gag. I moaned into it, she laughed, and I began drooling almost immediately.

She flipped the light off over head, plunging the basement into relative darkness, but remained for a few more minutes to make two last additions to my friday morning torture.

Printed out and then tacked onto the far wall, about twelve feet away from me were 4 pieces of paper, each with one word printed on them.

Yellow: Sunflower
Red: Firetruck

**Safewords**

Fear gripped me. My blood began pumping as adrenaline flowed through me. Like the feeling you get when you notice a cop car behind you with sirens on. We had obviously discussed these words before, but she never once reminded me about them prior to playing. I knew I could always ask out of any scene (obviously). I didn’t think I would ever need them. Now, I was staring at a weekend of bondage and deprivation and complete isolation and the very reality that Michelle, my owner, my landlord, was going to destroy me.

I stared at Michelle with my best puppy dog eyes. She simply looked me over, gave out a sigh of approval and a nod of her head as she shrugged her shoulders as if to say “this will work”. She mouthed something to me, but the white noise now being pumped into my earbuds silenced it. The panel for my eyes was snapped on and plunged me into darkness. I knew she was gone. She had left me. Locked behind multiple doors, away from the world just outside this basement.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8h74t8/fm_becoming_my_landlords_pet_part_nineteen