Dominatrix's Caged Submission

A male visits A strict and highly dominant mistress, well known and highly respected in the scene. She loves nothing more than strictly restraining Her slaves in steel restraints and forcing them to worship Her. The slaves desires are not important. There's no release from the restraints. In Her dungeon, She is the goddess. She loves to dress up her slaves in tight corsets and ballet boots just to see them squirm. She loves to degrade her slaves by spitting and pissing in their face and forcing them drink all of Her bodily fluids. She loves slapping them in the face to degrade them even more. She loves sitting on their face, making them eat Her out while they are suffocating them under Her ass. And when She is done playing She puts them away in a small steel cage, handcuffed, hooded and gagged for hours until she is ready for to have Her needs satisfied.

The air in the dungeon was thick with leather polish and sweat, the scent of dominance laced into every breath. The heavy steel door groaned shut behind him, sealing his fate. Before him stood *Her*—tall, immaculate, wrapped in latex so tight it gleamed under the dim lights. The crack of her riding crop against her palm made his knees weak before she even spoke. "Strip." Her voice was ice, sharp enough to cut through any protest. He obeyed, fingers fumbling under the weight of her gaze. The moment his clothes hit the floor, steel cuffs snapped around his wrists, locking behind his back with a *click* that echoed in his chest. She smirked, dragging a gloved fingertip down his throat. "You think you’re here for pleasure?" A sharp slap split the air, his cheek burning. "You’re here to *serve*." Bone-tight ballet boots clamped onto his feet—pinched, unforgiving. He gasped as the corset crushed his ribs, each tug of the laces stealing his breath. She leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "Tonight, you drink what I give you. You *take* what I allow. And when I’m done?" Her grip fisted in his hair, wrenching his head back. "You’ll rot in that cage until I *want* you again." His submission was non-negotiable. Her satisfaction was the only thing that mattered.

Her gloved hand forced his chin up, meeting her cold gaze. "Open," she commanded, and when his lips parted, she spat directly into his mouth. The wet heat of it made him flinch, but her fingers tightened, forcing him to swallow. "Good boy," she purred, trailing the riding crop down his chest before snapping it against his thigh. He stifled a groan as the sting bloomed across his skin. She stepped back, peeling off her gloves with agonizing slowness. "On your knees." The ballet boots made it torture, his ankles screaming as he knelt. "You’ll earn every drop," she said, unbuttoning the sleek latex between her thighs. A sharp tug on his hair forced his face forward as she lowered herself onto his mouth. "Breathe through your nose, pet. Or don’t." Her weight crushed him, the heat of her overwhelming. Every inhale was thick with her musk, every desperate lick a plea for air. She rolled her hips, grinding against his tongue with a low laugh. "Pathetic," she murmured, fingers tightening in his hair. "You’d suffocate just to taste me." The wet slap of her skin against his lips filled the room as she rode his face without mercy.

Her thighs clamped around his head like a vise, cutting off even the meager airflow he'd managed. His lungs burned, his nose buried in the intoxicating heat of her skin, every desperate exhale only drawing more of her in. She rocked harder, her wetness smearing across his lips, his chin—his world reduced to the brutal rhythm of her pleasure. "Tongue *out*," she hissed, yanking his hair back just enough to let him gasp before shoving him against her again. His jaw ached, his tongue lapping obediently at her clit until she shuddered, her moan sharp and mocking. "Faster." He obeyed, the slick friction making her groan. Her fingers twisted cruelly in his hair, forcing his mouth exactly where she wanted it. The sharp tang of her coated his tongue, her thighs trembling as she ground down on him. Then—her hand left his hair, grabbing the riding crop from the nearby table. The first strike cracked against his bare ass, the pain white-hot. He jerked, but she pressed down harder, suffocating his whimper between her thighs. "Take it," she growled, striking him again. His hips bucked involuntarily, but she only laughed, dragging her nails down his back. "You're nothing but a toy." Her climax crashed over her, her thighs squeezing tighter as she rode his face through it, his tongue working until she finally shoved him away with a wet *smack*. Panting, she stood, looking down at him with half-lidded satisfaction. "Now crawl to your cage," she said, stepping back to admire the mess she'd made of him—spit-slick lips, flushed skin, the raw stripes from her crop. "You'll stay there until I decide you're *useful* again." The steel door of the cage creaked open, inviting his humiliation inside.

Her boot pressed between his shoulder blades, forcing him forward on all fours toward the cage. The ballet boots bit into his ankles with every awkward shuffle, his knees scraping against the cold stone floor. She clicked her tongue as he hesitated at the threshold. "*Now*," she snapped, delivering a swift kick to his ribs that sent him sprawling inside. The door clanged shut, the lock clicking with finality. She crouched down, gripping the bars with one hand while the other stroked herself lazily, her fingers glistening. "Watch," she commanded, her breath hitching as she circled her clit with slow, deliberate pressure. His throat tightened as she worked herself, her moans dripping with cruel amusement. When she came, it was with a shudder and a sigh, her fingers withdrawing to smear wetness across the bars just inches from his face. "That's what you'll never touch again unless I allow it." Standing, she wiped her hand on his cheek before turning away, her boots clicking toward the door. The lights dimmed, leaving him in near darkness—the scent of her, the sting of his welts, the ache in his knees the only reminders of his place. The dungeon door groaned shut again. Silence. And then—the distant sound of her heels returning.

mistress comes back saying she forgot something. She sits on top of the cage and pisses over her slave. She then gags him and puts a hood on his head. she then locks a steel chastity cage on the slave.

The dungeon door swung open, her silhouette framed in the dim light. "Almost forgot," she mused, voice dripping with amusement. She climbed onto the cage, her thighs straddling the bars as she settled above him. A hot, golden stream arced down, splattering across his chest, his stomach—his face twisted away instinctively, but she gripped his hair, forcing him still. "Open," she ordered, and the bitter warmth flooded his mouth, his throat working helplessly. When she was done, she hopped down with a smirk, unbuckling the leather gag from her belt. His lips barely had time to part before she shoved it between his teeth, the strap cinching tight behind his head. The hood came next—black, suffocating, blotting out everything but the sound of her breathing. Her fingers trailed down his body, pausing at his cock. "This isn’t yours anymore," she murmured, cold steel clicking shut around him, the lock snapping with finality. A sharp pat against the cage made him flinch. "Much better." Her heels clicked away again, leaving him in darkness—drenched, gagged, locked down. The only sound left was his own muffled whimper.