[MF] Becoming My Landlord’s Pet (Part Twenty One)

It’s quite the endeavor to remember all the thoughts that went through my mind after my anal orgasm. I had been bound for an indeterminable amount of time in this basement. My cheeks welted, my hole continually fucked, my mouth a place holder for pussy soaked cotton panties. Eventually I took to letting out meek groans as I was fully entranced into sub-space. I was exhausted and desperately wanted to get out of my bondage. I thought about using a safeword, but anytime it flashed through my muddled mind I mustered up the courage to continue this absolutely wild weekend. Was it even friday night? (After everything was said and done, I learned Michelle ate lunch in the basement while watching me blow a load through my metal cage). I would have been off by 6-8 hours at least had I ventured a guess of the time.

Finally, FINALLY the fucking machine gave me a respite from it’s occupation of my asshole and was wheeled away from underneath me. Two hands were placed upon my hood as I felt Michelle’s body warmth close to me, her blouse upon my naked chest. My hands were undone (but remained locked together in their mitts) followed the restraints upon my ankles, and lastly the panel gag that held the panties in my mouth was removed, as were the underwear. I was allowed more water and a few bites of what I imagine to be some sort of breakfast. I scarfed it down heartily. I wasn’t hungry, I just needed the taste of spit soaked cotton out of my mouth. Before I could thank my Owner for the attention and water, the gag was snapped shut again and I was pulled, gingerly, off of the chair.

I stood statuesque in place as Michelle rubbed baby powder up my legs and arms, applied liberally. The scent was much more pleasant than the dank smell of the cellar. I heard crinkling, an echo of rubber being prepared like a stocking as my right foot, then left foot, were hoisted up and adorned with a latex catsuit that would soon cover me up to my neck. It was form fitting and hugged my curves, and had built in tits that popped even more once the heavy, steel-boned underbust corset was tightened

My hands were free from the mitts only momentarily, as the catsuit worked its way up my arms were slipped into the sleeves, fingers into the ends, and then locked back into the mitts. A heavy collar of an unknown look and color was locked around my neck once my traditional slave collar was unlocked and removed, I couldn’t see a thing but this collar kept my chin up right, my neck secure and limited any movement I might require from simply turning to my left, or to my right.

I was asked to sit down by Michelle. My sore, welted ass came to rest on a creaking metal bed frame of questionable sturdiness. The mattress was thin, and knowing Michelle gave off the aesthetic of “old and used” and not “pristine”. Either way, it was better than that chair, and way better than standing for hours. I was pressed backwards as Michelle guided me carefully onto the small metal frame of the creaking bed. Between the bed and my latex, my ears were filled with sounds of fetish. The ballet boots were laced and zippered up my calves, pointing my toes into an awkward, but not terribly uncomfortable, position. Cuffs strapped and buckled around my ankles, my legs were spread as wide as possible, and then were locked with chains to the frame. I tried to pull up, or close my legs, but it was impossible. There was absolutely no movement allowed. None. My arms were then spread just as wide, just as tight, just as strict above me. The sound of metal chains clanking off the metal frame and cement were terrifying, arousing, almost endearing. I couldn’t possibly function as anything else at this given moment. If my Owner had asked me my address I would have spit out gibberish. I was gone.

And so was Michelle. A kiss on my forehead lingered long after the catsuit was zipped up over my caged cock and the lights were (I’m assuming) turned off.

I took several deep breaths. As spread out as my limbs were, as tight as my corset was under my fake tits, as much as my ass burned from the beating administered by Michelle, at least I was lying down on a padded piece of furniture.

I wondered what I looked like. In my subspace daze I had visions of looking at myself from the side of the bed, watching my tits rise and fall with my slow breathing, hearing the chains keeping me locked and secured to the bed rattle around as I tried anything to move an inch. I failed miserably, apparently Michelle didn’t much like my fidgeting, at some point more cuffs were secured to my thighs, chains again secured to the bed.

Despite the stresses put upon every inch of my body, I fell asleep. When I awoke, it was to the sounds of the door opening. I felt rested, *somehow*, blinking my eyes under my hood and taking a deep breath as if I had woke up in my own bed, free of bondage, wrapped in warm sheets and not this gimp suit Michelle had locked me into.

Chains were undone, my long night of bondage must have been coming to an end. I stretched my legs in every which way I could, my arms followed. I felt my tits through my mitted hands, moving down to my cinched waist and finally to the bulge from my cage. I would have loved to see what I looked like. I suppose that was why the hood remained on my body for so long. Seeing light scared me at some point. Would that take getting used to? I didn’t know what to think.

I heard Michelle leave without saying a word *again*, which left me free to explore some of my surroundings, I couldn’t walk at all in the ballet boots, and I was scared to crawl and ruin my gimpsuit. But, after a while I was too curious, and found my options were limited. At some point in the night (the day?) one of the many chains at Michelle’s disposal was locked onto the rear of the collar and dangled from an eyelet drilled into the wall. I sat, I laid down on my side, I felt my boots and hood and tried to free myself from anything, not because I wanted to, but because it passed the time.

Then, the door opened, footsteps that seemed doubled up. Michelle glided across the floor, but I heard someone also shuffling. Her hands pulled off the panel to the hood, and for the first time in forever I heard her voice: “Open your fucking mouth, gimp”

Hands were placed on my hooded head as a stranger’s cock slipped it’s way passed my lips and tongue and to the back of my throat. I coughed as tried to press the dick away from me with my mitted hands but they were slapped away by whomever wasn’t gripping my head.

The cock slipped out of my mouth just as I heard Michelle laugh. “Maybe we should treat the little gimp less like a fuckdoll and let it try to satisfy your cock on it’s own terms?”
My heart was racing, after all this time, all this bondage and fucking and strenuous positions, Michelle was using me to satisfy a stranger.

“Would you like to suck a cock, gimp?” Of course. I nodded eagerly, lying to Michelle, lying to myself, and finding the figure before me with my stupid gimp hands, and sliding my lips over the hard shaft before me. This wasn’t an adorable puppy girlcock like my previous experience. This was *just a cock*, and I was simply here to satisfy it.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/91th4c/mf_becoming_my_landlords_pet_part_twenty_one