Vanquished Men

I climbed into the trunk.

“Honey I’m home,” my wife called.

I shuddered on my ‘Perch’ because I could tell that she had someone with her and I knew it wasn’t going to be good.

“Oh,” she laughed, “I see that you haven’t left, I guess that means you still want to be my slave.”

I hadn’t left because I was on my ‘Perch’. Being on my “Perch’ meant I was kneeling on a table next to the door with my hands cuffed behind my back. My collar was chained to an eye-bolt on the wall in front of me which forced my mouth over a dildo that jutted out from the wall, propelling my mouth over it. The reference to leaving was that she had turned off the perimeter shock collar around my neck and if, I could have managed to escape the restrictive bondage and left the house I would have been ‘free’. I put free in quotes because I sincerely doubted that if, by some miracle, I had managed to affect an escape I would have really been free. I was confident that she would have found some way to re-capture me.

She walked over and lightly fondled my balls that were hanging out of the main ring of an industrial strength chastity belt, saying, “I see your little eggs are still so ready, no, so needy for someone to caress them, aren’t they? How long has it been since they’ve been emptied? A month? Has it been a month since you agreed to be my slave? Well, you’d best get used to it because they are never, ever going to get emptied again for the rest of your life.”

With the dildo stuffed in my mouth it was impossible for me to respond so I only grunted. It was a grunt of anger, but I knew she couldn’t tell. It was a minor and dangerously stupid futile act of resistance that made me feel better for a few seconds but was a waste of time in my desire to actually get free of her total control over me and every facet of my life.

“Well,” she said, “you had your chance to leave me. Now, I need you to serve me and my…uh… friend like I have trained you to do.”

She disconnected the lead to the eye bolt, uncuffed me and allowed me to climb down from the table.

“Serve us each a beer,” she demanded.

I minced into the kitchen in my high heels with a twelve-inch chain between them restricting my steps, got two beers from the fridge, placed them on a tray and carried them to the living room where they were seated on the couch. I knelt and presented the tray.

***

How I happened to be in this situation was mostly stupidity on my part. Well, perhaps stupidity is a bit harsh, after all I was hopelessly in love and who would ever think that someone with whom you have such a connection would ever…

The story is that I met Mia at a friend’s wedding. We hit it off and after a whirlwind romance that lasted all of three weeks, we tied the knot. Then, a week after the wedding, she asked me to pretend to be her slave. It sounded hot, so I let her tie me up. Big mistake because, since then I had been in some sort of bondage, whipped, disciplined, trained to obey. I was a mindless servant… except that I wasn’t really. She had broken me, but a spark remained of the real me and I was waiting for any opportunity to break free.

***

I waited while they lifted their bottles from the tray, eyes downcast as I had been trained.

“You may look up,” my wife said.

I looked up and my apprehension in serving another person turned to horror. Looking back at me was her mother, with the same disdainful look I had seen on her face at the wedding. If her mother knew about Mia’s lifestyle it explained a lot. In fact, it might explain why her step-father had been off on some mysterious mission and unable to attend the wedding. Most likely he had been stuck at home on his version of a ‘Perch’.

“You remember my mother, don’t you slave?” Mia asked.

“Yes, Miss Mia,” I answered as I had been trained.

“Greet her properly,” my wife demanded.

I placed the tray next to me, leaned forward and kissed her boots.

“I see you have him suitably trained,” Mrs. Jacobs said.

“He’s coming along nicely, mother,” Mia said, “but I still sense some spark of resistance that I really must crush.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage to completely break him,” her mother laughed, “you certainly had plenty of training helping me subdue your step-father.”

As I suspected, she had confirmed that I wasn’t the only male in this subservient position in their family. Her remark about recognizing my spark of resistance bothered me. I really had to devise some way out of this soon while some part of me was still me.

They chatted and drank and caught up and generally ignored me. Later we all moved to the family room where they became engrossed in some mindless television program. That’s when an opportunity presented itself. They had me kneeling at their feet and her mother’s purse was next to me. In the side pocket was her cell phone. I slipped it out and pushed it under the couch. I hoped that if she discovered it missing before she left, they would look and just think it had fallen out.

Luck was with me as far as the phone went but not personally. Mia decided to let her mother take a few turns with me. We went to the dungeon I had been forced to build and she used the cane on my ass and then strung me up to demonstrate her prowess with the bullwhip. I was bleeding when she let me down.

Then Mia let her take me into the den where I was required to demonstrate my oral skills. I actually still loved doing this for Mia because her p***y was a slice of heaven. Eating out a fat, stinky unwashed old biddy was not my idea of a good time. I distracted myself thinking about the phone and planning how to use it.

I got a second break when they went to the kitchen for another beer and I was sent to clean up. I took a moment and turned the ringer down on the phone which saved my plan later that night when her mother called looking for her phone. Mia listened while her mother tried it but as it didn’t ring, they concluded she must have misplaced it elsewhere.

***

Normal routine at bedtime was for me to undress Mia, help her into her luxurious king bed and then for me to go downstairs and lock myself in the cage in the basement dungeon. She allowed me about five minutes to do this. She had a video monitor on my cage and, in addition, the perimeter shock collar which she could also activate with her ever present remote, so she didn’t worry about me trying to escape. Of course, if I took longer than she thought was necessary to appear on her video monitor she simply held down the remote button and came looking for me. I learned that lesson the hard way one evening when I thought I could take a quick moment to void my bladder one more time before bed.

I hurried downstairs, scooped up the phone, ran down into the basement and locked myself into the cage. I was stuck here until she pushed the electronic release in the morning. I rolled over and pretended to go to sleep. I lay there for several hours until I was sure she had drifted off and then put my plan into action. I thought of simply dialing 911 but then another idea occurred to me. In retrospect I wish I had just dialed 911.

***

The next morning when the cage opened, I left it with new purpose. If my plan succeeded, I would be a free man by breakfast. I went about my normal routine of fixing her breakfast and serving it to her in bed. Then I gave her two orgasms with my tongue, bathed her and dressed her. We had just gone downstairs when the front doorbell rang. She had a contingency for uninvited guests in that she had eyebolts all over the house that I could be locked to in an instant. She secured me, turned my collar to bark mode so I couldn’t call out and went to answer the door.

That’s when all hell broke loose. Three masked men invaded the house, used chloroform to knock her out, and laid her on the couch. Then, in walked my old girlfriend, Carol.

“Well, Mike,” she said sweetly, “I guess your dream girl didn’t work out quite like you thought.”

I couldn’t answer because of the shock collar but she figured it out and turned it off.

“Carol, I don’t know how I can ever thank you enough for this,” I said.

“Oh, I’ll think of something,” she laughed. “Just now we need to get out of here before she wakes up.”

She released me from the wall, turned off perimeter shock and began pulling me toward the front door.

“Wait, Carol,” I protested, “what about all of this stuff?”

The stuff I was referring to was, the shackles, the chastity belt, the high heels and the collar. I wanted that stuff off me.

“We don’t have time for that right now,” she said, “besides the shackles are welded on and will have to be cut off.

I didn’t like it, but she was right, so I followed her out to her car. She opened the trunk.

“Get in,” she said coldly.

“What?” I protested.

“I said get in the trunk,” she repeated.

“Carol, what is going on?” I asked.

“I’ve always wanted a slave and now I have one,” she said matter-of-factly, “and slaves definitely don’t ride in the front like humans. Now get in the f*****g trunk or you’ll find that the wimpy little discipline sessions that Mia treated you to were nothing compared to what I can dish out when I’m pissed off.”

I climbed into the trunk.

Don’t Look a Gift Horse in the Mouth