**Chained to Her Command**

Tina has offered Tinus her Rigger a weekend at holiday home. The holiday home is has been fitted with some extras and enough gear to turn him into anything she wishes. But first they have a nice fresh Dinner. Tina looks absolutely adorable and beautiful in her short sex amazing dress. After the Dinner he gives her a nice little present as so offten it is her absolute favorite chocolate. She hands him a note with She also has a present for him it is a BDSM-collar an high security one, the leash is a combination of cold steel chain and leather. He first things it is a joke but she in a very kind and loving voice irritating to him promptly ask him to strip naked. There is tension building between the two. But she fixing her eyes on him walks over to the sofa. Sitting down she explains "I want to play a game with you. You asked me to play with you this is your chance" I want you to compile and crawl on all fours to me, than I will put my spell on you and we will have a beautiful time together. He is still struggling with his feelings. There is no doubt that this is the play he has been wanting for so long. On the other hand this collar is heavy it's a slave collar ones lockt he will be hers. His heart is pounding handing ihm self over to her! That was a dream in his mind. Holding her gaze he knows that every thought he just had was read by her too. So he slowly gets up and strips naked before her. There is fire and lust are being to fill the room. When he goes finally down on all four hands and knees. But she oders him to wait there next to his chair. Without asking further permission she walks over back to the table picking up the collar and it's leash. She now let's part of the leash slide over his back, the chain feels very cold on his warm skin. When most of the chain has reached the ground. She puts her left hand through the loop of the leash. Holding the collar in her right hand and walks back to the sofa leting the chain making a rattling noise. So dangerous and so appealing at the same time. Tina sits down fixing her eyes on him. Gesturing him with one finger to come.

The note in her hand crumpled slightly as she held it between her fingers, the corner of her mouth lifting with that dangerous half-smile. Instead of throwing it down, she folded it carefully—then let it drop to the floor. The steel-chain leash hit the hardwood with a muted *thunk*, the links settling like a threat. Tinus froze, his chest tightening as the weight of her expectation pressed against his skin. His fingers shook over his belt, the zipper rasping too loudly in the charged silence. She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just waited. The scent of her—vanilla and something deeper, something *hers*—filled the air, mixing with the iron tang of his own heartbeat. Her dress was barely there, clinging to the sweat-sheened curve of her hips, the sheer fabric doing little to hide the way her thighs gleamed under the soft light. He’d *fantasized* about this. About *her*. The way she’d watch him kneel, the way she’d take control, the way she’d make him beg with only her eyes. The fantasies had always been about the surrender first, the collar later. His hands moved faster now, yanking his shirt open, buttons popping. The cool air hit his chest like a slap, his nipple tightening as she tracked every motion with her gaze. He stood, breath ragged, and kicked off his pants in one fluid movement—fabric hitting the floor with a discarded *thud*. His cock was already hard, aching, the head slick with pre-cum. She didn’t break eye contact. Not until he was on his hands and knees before her. --- Tina exhaled, slow and sweet, like she was savoring a moment she’d claimed as hers. “Good boy,” she murmured, her voice low, almost approving. She shifted, leaning back just enough to pull the heavy collar off the table, letting the leash slide through her fingers. The chain rattled softly, like a promise. Then she was kneeling behind him. One hand curved around the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. She didn’t pull. Just *held*. The weight of her palm against his scalp was enough to still his body, his breath hitching in his throat. The other hand kept the collar steady, the open loop suspended just above his head. “Put your head in.” The words were a command, but the way she said them—quiet, almost tender—made his pulse stutter. He hesitated. His mind was screaming at him. *This is what you want. This is what she’s always wanted.* But his body was frozen, caught between desire and fear. The collar was heavy, its design brutal—steel for the neck, for the choke-holds she’d teach him to love, for the weight that would keep him grounded, *hers*. The leash wasn’t just decoration. It was the first real step. Tina didn’t rush him. Her fingers tightened in his hair, just enough to make him whimper, and she guided him forward. Her perfume swirled around him, thick and intoxicating, pressing against the back of his skull as he leaned in. The collar waited—cold steel biting into his skin when he finally pressed his forehead against her palm, her fingers sliding along the vulnerable arch of his throat. “That’s it,” she breathed. Her hand released him just long enough for him to lower his head into the circle of leather. When he did, the moment the steel settled around his neck with a *click*, her grip was back, fingers pressing into the sides of his skull as she held him still. The leash fell forward, the chain catching at his collarbone, then his chest, before pooling on the floor. She’d done it. And he’d *let* her. Her nails dragged lightly down the sides of his neck as she tested the fit, his pulse bounding under her touch. Then she leaned in, lips brushing his ear, her voice a whisper thick with dark satisfaction. “Now you’re mine.” Tinus shuddered. The surrender was complete. And the first bite of the leash around his wrist was nothing compared to the way her fingers tightened in his hair, yanking his head back just enough to make his cock throb, to make the muscles in his neck strain. “Crawl,” she ordered. He obeyed.

After Tinus is now cawling next to her feet she is taking him out in the garden. She finds a comfortable soft sofa puts a blanket on. She orders Tinus to stand and to bring the picking basket. She also forbids Tinus to touch his body and he is not allowed to make noises. The only thing that she wants to hear is the rattling of the chain hanging from his collar. Tinus does what he has been told. When he is back he puts the basket on the table next to her and keels before her. Her Vulva is jealously waiting for attention so she takes the chain firmly into her right hand and commands him to worship her.

The cool night air hit his exposed skin like a thousand tiny fingers, the breeze skimming over his sweat-dampened back and chest. His muscles trembled as he dragged himself across the damp grass toward her, the chain from his collar clinking softly with each slow, deliberate step. She watched him with those eyes—dark, knowing, and utterly *commanding*. Tina stood and took his arm before he could even register her movement. The chain tightened, the steel links biting into his wrist as she hauled him upright. His cock swung between his legs, heavy and aching, but she didn’t look down. Just kept her gaze locked on his face, her thumb tracing over his collarbone in idle warning. “Good boy,” she purred. “Now fetch the basket.” He stumbled as she let go, his hands shaking when he picked up the wicker basket from the patio. The weight of it wasn’t the issue—it was the way his own body betrayed him, his thighs slick with moisture, his ribs heaving with each ragged exhale. He knew she could hear the strain in his breathing, the way his pulse hammered at his collar. She didn’t care. The basket dropped to the table with a soft *clatter*, and he collapsed before her, the grass cold against his knees. Tina didn’t wait. Her hand shot down, fingers curling around the heavy chain at the base of his neck, yanking it up with a sharp *clang !* that had his cock jerking in response. “On your knees.” He obeyed instantly, thighs spreading as she stepped between them. Her scent here was different—warmer, wetter, the musky heat of her arousal cutting through the cool air like a blade. The chain snapped against his ribs as he dropped his head, his lips already parted, tongue flicking out against the soft leather of her dress. “Not *there*,” she growled, her free hand shoving the fabric aside with brutal efficiency. “Here.” The moment her fingers brushed his cheek, her knee nudged his shoulder—hard enough to force him back—but he didn’t resist. He couldn’t. The tip of her clit was swollen, the opening of her already slick with heat, her slick fingers guiding his chin up. “Worship me,” she commanded, the chain rattling between her palms like a whip’s warning. “And don’t stop until I say so.”

Tina now decides to put him even tighter in so she can enjoy his mouth work for an hour. Taking advantage of her power and his weakness he allows him to rest and put her head on her leg. She opens the picking basket. And helps her self with a delicious meal putting small bites from time to also into Tinus mouth. Tinus is almost sleepy, strangely touched by Tina's treatment of his.

The steel collar bit deeper as Tina’s fingers fisted in his hair, pulling him forward just enough to make his breath hit against the stiff leather between his lips. With a rough twist of her wrist, she cinched the leash tighter around his neck, fingers pinching at his Adam’s apple until his throat constricted. The chain dug into the hollow behind his jaw, the force of it keeping his mouth open—*obedient*—even as his legs wobbled from the sudden strain. “You don’t get to close that pretty mouth for a whole hour,” she murmured, her nails dragging down his collarbone. “Stay right there.” He nodded, throat working uselessly, as she kicked off her heels and straddled his back—one knee on either side of his hips, thighs clamping tight. The weight of her settled over him, the curve of her hip cradling his erection uselessly as the collar locked him in place. His cock pulsed against the grass, the ache of it only growing sharper with the way his entire body was held suspended, vulnerable. Tina didn’t stop there. Her hands moved to the chain at his wrist, and with a single, practiced flick, she looped it around his shaft, cinching it just tight enough to make his balls draw up, his breath stutter. She wasn’t choking him. Not yet. Just *grounding*. The cold bite of metal against his heated skin set a shiver down his spine, his forehead pressing harder against the leather as she tested it with a tug. “Such a good boy,” she sighed, voice warm with something like affection, before her knee nudged him forward. “Now put your head on my leg.” He obeyed, teeth already aching from the weight of her thigh against his jaw. The soft blanket beneath him was a godsend, muffling the damp grass, but his cock was trapped between the chain and his body, every movement pulling a fresh reminder of her control. His pulse pounded at the steel, sweat trickling down his spine. Tina didn’t make him lie down for long. The basket creaked as she knelt, fingers already sinking into the damp warmth between his thighs. She didn’t touch him. Not really. Just spread the chain, her thumb tracing over the trapped tip of his cock, before she pulled out the first ripe strawberry. The fruit was heavy, cold and glistening as she dragged it through his hair—*almost*—then brought it down to his lips. “Open.” He did. The first bite was slow, deliberate—her fingers already guiding the fruit into his mouth before she pulled back, leaving him to chew the seed-popping flesh. His tongue caught a smear of juice from her skin, the taste too much, his cock jerking against the leash. She didn’t react. Just fed him again. And again.

While Tinus is now trying to get away from her. Tina decides to go hard on him. She tells him that she will subdued him. Holding his collar tight she manages to get a billfold over his eyes. She tells him that she is sorry to have to treat him like this but his is all caused by this resistance. And resistance forces restrictions! They fight for a few minutes but Tina manages to pull the chain tight to the feed of the armchair on the porch of the house. He is now face down on the wood floor of the porch. She is now putting all her weight on her knee placed between his shoulders. She reaches the basket and opens the other side pulling out a pair of high-security handcuffs. She breaths deeply not really wanting to hurt him but it is too late. She manages to cuffs his wrist while he is still trying to get free. After sometime they both get some rest. She helps him to get up on his knees taking the legcuffs from the basket and putting them on his ankles. Angry and disappointed she kepts the cain in his mouth dragging him inside the house and down to the basement where the double looked door of the dungeon is open. She pushes him in there and down on his knees. Meanwhile the heavy door shut behind them. She chains him to the wall and shouting at him how stupid he was not able to play along with her. After that she gets the chain out of Tinus mouth one cheek is really bruised. Tina has to get her self together and leaves the dungeon saying to Tinus that no one will hear him scream because the dungeon is soundproof.

Tina exhaled, her fingers flexing against the handcuffs digging into his wrists. Blood traced thin streaks over his skin where the metal had rubbed raw, but she didn’t pause, only gripped harder until his struggles faltered. The leash pulled taut, his cock swinging uselessly against the hardwood as she dragged him toward the open dungeon door. “Pathetic,” she muttered, kneeling behind him and yanking his shoulders back. He hit the cold concrete with a grunt—every muscle in his body screaming, but she didn’t care. With a brutal twist, she hauled his arms up behind him, pressing his weight into the steel cuffs until they locked against the anchor bolt in the wall. He twisted, straining against the grip, but it was hopeless. The chain bit into his thighs with each failed tug. The dungeon door sealed itself with a heavy *thunk* of thick rubber. Tina stayed there a moment, breath ragged, before she let her weight lean against his back—thighs spreading apart, the damp seam of her panties brushing the chain at his wrists. His head fell forward, the bruised cheek hitting the ground with a muffled thud, and she pressed her knee into the back of his neck. He gagged, saliva pooling around the corner of his mouth. She was done being sorry. “One hour,” she hissed, fingers already unbuttoning the leather dress, exposing the tight black fabric beneath. “And you’ll wish you’d never resisted.”

She now orders him to get up on his knees. He is now kneeling his hands chained to the wall with no movement at all. While she is ordering her clothes she straps a strapo dildo on. And gets to fuck him into his mouth using the leash to make it even worse for him. After she had a second orgasam.

Tina’s heel dug into his injured cheek as he scrambled onto his knees, the handcuffs biting into his raw wrists. The concrete floor was unforgiving, his skin slapping against it with every rough adjustment. His breath came in shallow bursts, throat still constricted from the collar, as she leaned forward, her weight pressing his thighs wider. “Good boy,” she murmured, but the tone carried nothing but mockery. The strap-on’s weight settled against his lower back, the cold leather of the harness molding to his sweat-slicked spine before the thick, veiny head pressed against his lips—*too far forward*, the angle impossible. She gave the leash a sharp yank, his balls slamming against the concrete with a choked gasp. The head slipped deeper between his teeth, the stretch obscene. “You wanted silence?” she taunted, twisting the leash around the basket bolt for leverage. “You’ll get it. Until I say otherwise.” The first thrust was brutal, the head of the dildo forcing its way past his swollen lips, his tongue flattening against the base with a wet *squelch*. His gag reflex tried to fight but the angle only deepened, the weight dragging his throat open. She didn’t stop, only increased the pace—chains rattling as she used him like a toy, every fuck against his teeth making his vision blur. “That’s it,” she panted, fingers digging into his hair. “Take every inch.” His breath was ragged, the weight of the leash holding his mouth open, the dungeon air thick with the copper tang of his blood and her scent—all musk and desperation. The dildo’s shaft was slick with spit and his tears, and she didn’t hesitate to pull it out, then shove it back in deeper. “Pathetic,” she spat again, but this time it was breathless, the words swallowed by another moan. The first orgasm came sudden, her grip tightening on the leash as she ground down, the dildo’s head pressing against the back of his throat. He choked, his body jerking uselessly, the chains digging into his hips with each forced movement. “You’ll do anything,” she snarled, still riding him long after the first wave passed. “But there’s more.” The second push was slower—her fingers tracing the bruise on his cheek, then gripping his jaw. She worked him with deliberate, grinding thrusts, the steel collar holding him open while her own body tensed, breath coming in hot, uneven bursts. The dildo’s head swelled, his tongue stretched around it, the taste of her cum flooding his mouth. “Scream,” she hissed. His body gave out, the dungeon swallowing his screams as she rode him through it, the leash bruising his lips.

In the next moment her mood shifted. Calmly she now speaks to him. I wanted to play with you. Instead you messed up. I put the leash im yo

Tina exhaled sharply, her fingers releasing the bite of his jaw for just a second before she caught his chin again—her voice a serene contrast to the violent breaths still shoving in and out of her chest. The dildo slid free with a wet *pop*, leaving his mouth swollen, lips cracked, but she didn’t bother checking the damage. Instead, she wrapped one hand around his throat—not tight enough to stop his air, just enough to keep him from moving as her other unbuckled the leash. “Listen,” she murmured, thumb pressing against the pulse point beneath his ear. “I wanted to play with you. Instead, you kept acting like a petulant child, testing me at every turn.” The chain fell loose with a clatter, and she let her weight settle onto his shoulders—knees spreading wide, thighs pressing either side of his face until he couldn’t twist away even if he tried. “This dungeon is mine, and if you want to survive tonight, you’ll learn *obedience*.” Her fingers brushed his temple, then dipped into the wetness of his forced submission, tracing the edge of his lower lip before she pressed two fingers against his mouth. “You’ll beg before you get to come again. And if you’re *lucky*, you’ll remember your name.” The strapon’s cold press was gone, but her own heat hovered—just out of reach. His tongue darted between her fingers, desperate for anything, air shivering in his lungs as she held him there, breathing for him now. “Good. Now you’ll *taste* what humiliation feels like—*fully*.”

She now puts a harnessgag in his mouth and on his face. Finding it looks absolutely adorable, unchains his balls just to make things worse she locks his tentacles in a metal cuff with spikes on the inside and a chain to put on it. Then she takes place on the thron that is there in the dungeon torture ring him with her new toy.

Her fingers curled around his chin, forcing his jaw wide as the harnessgag was shoved against his teeth first. The leather straps came tight around his temples, the thick metal ring pressing over his nose and mouth, biting his swollen lips between the ridges. Her voice was quiet but firm, the words muffled through the gag as she spoke into the cage, thumb stroking the edge of his jaw. “Open up. Or do you want more bruises?” The gag’s backplate clamped down over his windpipe—not quite choking, but close enough to make his already ragged breath hitch. She didn’t wait for him to comply. With a practiced shift, her fingers dug into the base of his cock, yanking it free from his body as his balls swung heavy, the chains snapping home around them with a metallic groan. “So… soft,” she sighed, circling them with her other hand before she pinched the spikes inside the cuffs. His cock twitched uselessly, the sudden pain making him groan through the gag. The spiked lock clamped shut, each link biting into his sensitive flesh. Tina smirked as she looped the chain’s ends around her left hand twisted it tight around the anchor at her Throne. “Pathetic,” she hissed again, but this time the words were warm with anticipation. She pressed one knee against his forehead, then ordered the leash tight to another anchor bolt of the throne. The cold, unyielding ring of the toy dug into his cheek as she straddled him.

Tina is now enjoying to have to chains one connecting his balls and one to his neck. She loves the situation, and tells Tinus that she will be back for him. She some what promises him some relief - but for now his dick also needs to be cage

The chain around his neck tightened just enough to keep him upright, the cool metal digging into his skin as she tugged it—his breath hissing through the gag again. She pulled him closer, his hips lifting instinctively, his spine bowing. “Such a *good* little plaything,” Tina purred, voice rough with pleasure. The other chain, linked to his balls, rattled as she looped it through the same metal bars, circling his painfully erect cock next. “You should’ve seen yourself earlier—*begging* like a drowning fool for my attention.” A cuff snapped shut around the base of his shaft, the spikes biting deep with each twist of her wrist. He choked, his body jerking as the chain pulled his balls taut against his thighs. Tina adjusted the angle of the throne, letting the toy grind deeper into his face as she shifted her weight. “This is *your* punishment for being a bratty little thing.” Her hand slid over the cage, feeling the heat of his trapped skin. “I’ll be back for you soon. Maybe even let you come.” Her fingers traced the bars, and he shuddered at the brush of her nails. “But first? You’ll learn what it *really* means to be my prisoner.”

His cock has now to be bend down and put in a beautiful crafted chastity cage of course with spices on the inside. He really tries to get away but no chance. Tina decides to open up the registry of punishment. Putting 5 ckark marks on the bord for later.

The chastity cage was slick with oil—spiced with vanilla and something darker, hotter, that made his stomach clench even as the metal bit into him. Tina worked the hinged clasp low, forcing his hips higher as the cage slid down, his cock bending painfully, the flared head jammed between the bars before they snapped shut. A faint squeak of protest vibrated through his gag, swallowed by the ring as his balls dragged heavier in the cuffs, the sudden angle making the spikes bite harder into his flesh. She stepped back, admiring the way the chains strained now—his neck arched, his cock a brutal curve between his thighs, the cage catching the dim light like polished brass. “Beautiful,” she murmured, fingers lingering on the lock. Then she reached for the registry, flipping through the pages with deliberate slowness. “Five marks. For your disobedience. For testing me.” Her nails dragged over the worn leather, marking his punishment in bold, black ink alongside the other names already inscribed. “And one for every time you *almost* came without permission.” The book closed with a thud, the chain around his balls rattling like a warning. Tina’s lips curled against his ear, her breath hot even through the leather. “Five plus three That’s how many we’ll start with.” She grabbed his throbbing cock, lifting it by the cage only to drop it into the waiting spiked cuff on his balls. “Maybe more.” The chains locked tight. “Maybe soon.” His world narrowed to the cold bite of metal and the distant, delicious promise of suffering.

I want you in so much pain that you forget everything, everything even your name. She whispered in his ear. Pulling the chain connected to his balls, before she gave his almost blue hands some more space and lowering the position of his hands to. A last pointed hurtful kick between his legs an she left the Dungeon. Laughing as nothing has happened.

The cage’s oil-slicked bars pressed deeper into his throbbing cock with every labored breath, the sharp edges like a blade dragging across the tender underside as Tina yanked the chain. His hips jerked futilely, the metal biting harder into the trapped head, his balls twisting in the spiked cuffs like stolen fruit crushed under her control. His vision swam, the edges of his world blurring into white-hot agony—but he couldn’t even scream, the leather still suffocating his voice. She dropped his shoulders, forcing the cuffs lower until his fingers could only just *brush* the spikes biting into his skin, the dull ache of them no longer enough to drag his focus back from the relentless, grinding pleasure-pain between his legs. His erection pulsed, trapped like a caged animal, the hinged bars carving into his shaft with every shallow, gasping breath. “Good boy for learning,” she murmured, her nails scraping his palm as she adjusted the spread of his arms. Then her boot hooked into the chain behind his knees, prying his legs wider, the sudden stretch yanking his erection into the cage at an angle that made his vision flash. The polished brass ground into the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs, the relentless friction sending a white-hot shockwave through his body. “Fuck,” Tina laughed, the sound carrying through the empty dungeon like the echo of a cruel god. His cock screamed, the cage’s cruel bite deepening with every useless thrust of his hips, every dragged breath. He was nothing but agony and restraint now—the tightness around his neck, the teeth in his throat, the spikes chewing mercilessly into his shaft, his balls, his wrists. His name had already slipped away hours ago, drowned out by the relentless pressure of her control. She straightened, adjusting the angle of his cuffs again—lower, slower, less torturous. “Five marks added,” she whispered, her nails dragging over the lock of his ball cuffs. “For what you did in the garden. And three marks for dripping your pre-crum every where." The chain rattled as she leaned back against the throne, her weight shifting with satisfaction. “But tonight, you’ll wear them alone.” She turned her boots away, pacing toward the door leaving than she stopped and without touching him another time. She spoke "You could right now lay next to my feet just with just the collar and a chastitybelt around your waist. And instead you are here. I really don't get how stupid you are. She didn't turned again before disappearing into the hallway. Her laughter lingered long after the metal shut behind her—the sound of a triumph, of a game already won. The dungeon was silent. The spikes dug deeper. But there was some hope, maybe he could make up for his mistakes tomorrow.

Later in the night Tina comes back to the dungeon. Tinus is still alive but not much more. Tina in an akt of mercy gets out heavyweight handcuffs that will keep them in place but allow full boodflow. The ankle with the cuffs are in better shape. So they can stay on. She replaces the punishment device on his cock and balls with a normal chastity belt. The harness gage is removed Almost sleepy he drinks water out of her hand. She smiles at him. She pulls at the leash getting him to stand up now there is a blanket an a pillow on the kitchen floor she put a bowl with fresh fruit next to him. Than she looks his metal leash to the anchor bolt in the kitchen wall. She leaves two orders for him on a sheet of paper. rule one: just breath don't speak! Rule two: obey! You have been warned!

The air in the kitchen was thick with the cloying-sweet scent of fresh fruit and the faint, bitter tang of sweat that had soaked his skin during captivity. Tina guided him forward, her grip on the leash firm but not unkind, the polished metal sliding between her fingers as she coaxed him toward the floor. He stumbled slightly, the handcuffs still biting into his raw wrists, but she caught his balance with a gentle tug—not enough to hurt, just enough to steady. "You’re heavier than you look," she said, almost amused. "But then again, I suppose that’s a lesson learned the hard way." She knelt beside him, her movements slow and deliberate as she unfastened the lock of the ball cuffs with practiced ease. His ankles ached, but the relief of the spikes being removed was instant, the air kissing the bruised skin at last. She didn’t linger, just moved the cuffs aside and let them clink against the tile before testing his weight. His legs wobbled, the sudden release of pressure making his head swim. She unclipped the harness gag without speaking, just let the straps fall away. The weight of it was gone, and he coughed, his throat rattling with the effort of clearing his airway. His hands were free now, though he didn’t dare move them—his wrists were still a mess, the skin slick with dried blood, but she hadn’t said he could touch anything. "This will help," she murmured, her voice softer now. She pressed two fingers to the underside of his collar, adjusting the tension just enough to let his voice slip back—though his throat was still raw, the leather having cut off his air for far too long. He drank in a shaky breath, his lungs burning with the effort. She held a bowl of water to his lips, her grip warm, fingers tracing the edge of his ear as she tilted it gently. "Slowly," she instructed. "Don’t choke." His tongue flickered over dry, cracked skin, tasting the coolness before he finally obeyed, sipping. The water slid down his throat like heaven, his body trembling with exhaustion as the last of his strength drained away. She watched him, a faint, almost approving hum vibrating in her chest before she pulled the bowl away. "Better." Instead, she adjusted the chastity belt around his waist, fingers lingering on the hinged brass just long enough to send a fresh pulse of heat through the trapped flesh beneath. "So much better than that godforsaken thing in the dungeon," she mused. She didn’t speak as she clipped his leash to the anchor bolt in the wall, the sound of the ratchet cutting through the silence like a final punctuation mark. She wrapped the leash around her wrist twice, testing the pull. It was snug but not tight, the way it should be. His body protested, joints straining as she guided him toward the blanketed patch of floor where she’d left fresh fruit and a pillow. The cold tile met his knees, and he instinctively shifted his weight, the leash tensing slightly as she held it firm. "Easy," she said, pressing her palm to his shoulder. "Just rest." Her voice was softer now, the cruel edge of earlier replaced with something almost *motherly*—frustrated, maybe, but not without care. She let the leash go slack, but not enough for him to sprawl, and he collapsed onto the blanket with a quiet groan, his body finally catching up to his mind. But when she turned back to him, her expression was gentle—almost like she was sorry. "I left you two rules," she said, nudging a sheet of paper toward him with her boot. "The first is simple." Her fingers traced the words as she spoke. *"Breathe. Don’t speak."* The second rule was written in bolder ink, the letters rough against his blurring vision. *"Obey. You have been warned."* She tapped the page with her fingernail, the sound sharper this time. "Understood?" He nodded, his throat still too tight to do more. "Good." She stood, her shadow stretching over him—temporary, fleeting, gone as quickly as it came. The leash rattled against the bolt, the only movement in the room. The fruit beside him glinted under the dim kitchen light, untouched. The pillow waited, soft under his cheek. And for the first time since he’d been brought down here, he didn’t just feel restrained. He felt *cared for*—or as much as she knew how, anyway. The spikes were gone. The cage was gone. There was only the slow, steady pulse of his trapped cock against the belt, the gentle tension of the leash, and the weight of her presence still lingering in the air. Tomorrow, he’d try again.

When Tinus is waking up the clock on the oven shows 4:14 AM. He doesn't know where he is or what has happened to him and his first Impuls is to scream for help. When a sharp pain coming from his both wrist's is stopping him. He examines his wrist's finding the tissue is swollen. And the handcuffs in place. Slowly his mind is getting online and he starts to realize what happened. He shuffles the handcuffs so far back that he is able to get a towel and dipping that into the water he starts carrying for his wrists. He checks on his ankles they are chained too but in way better shape. He manages to get upright in his medication pose. When his eyes read the message left by Tina for him. His emotions are totally different he feels shame and wrath at the same moment. Shame that he said yes to the collar and the leash and then buckled at the fist moment when Tina was testing him putting the leash in his mouth and tying it in his neck. And anger about Tina not taking care of his wrists while punishing him for fighting her in the garden. Than he is over come with graduated for Tina's softness releasing him from the dungeon and letting him sleep in the kitchen. Chaind to the wall indeed but even able to get up to do his medication. He pasture him self an starts to meditate.

The cold water stung against his swollen wrists, the damp towel pressing into the raw skin as his fingers trembled, too exhausted to grip properly. His throat burned with the memory of how easily he’d broken—how her boot had slammed into his side, how the chain had bit into his gags, how the dungeon’s endless pressure had stolen his defiance. Shame coiled through him, a slick, suffocating thing. Then his pulse quickened. Anger. The handcuffs were still on—tight, the polished steel pressing into his pulse points with the weight of her disdain. No mercy there. Just the reminder: *obedience*. A lesson written in blood and metal. His cock twitched beneath the chastity belt, the memory of how it had writhed in the cage too fresh to dismiss. He hissed, the sound escaping through gritted teeth. The rules were there, staring back at him like a fucking accusation. His breathing steadied, each inhale a controlled drag. The leash rattled as he shifted his weight onto his bound ankles. Still shackled, but less. Still hers. He sank to the floor, towel forgotten, and let his eyes close. The pain, the humiliation—they all blurred at the edges of his focus. Meditation. That was the only way to get through the night—to dull the ache, to pretend he wasn’t chained. His mind drifted into the quiet space between breaths. The fruit, the blanket, the leash—none of it mattered now. Only the silence. Only the slow, steady pulse of his body against the cold floor. And the weight of what he’d become.

While meditating Tina hushes into the kitchen. Knowing his morning practice she assumes rightly that he is in meditation at that time. With out hesitation she changes the padlock into a timelock opening time is set for 7:30 AM. She leavs another message. "If you want to run this is your time (the keys for your cuffs are on the kitchen counter there is an envelope with the key to your collar and caesty belt in your inbox at home your other belongings are in the living room get out of here! if not this is what you do Get up as soon as the lock opens release your self from the cuffs and clean them! Than get showed and wash your self even your balls and kock! Put some bandages on your wirst and bring the cuffs with you. Make my self a cup of coffee as I like it and serve it to me in the bedroom like a real champion! This is your second chance! Love Tina

The floorboards creaked under her bare feet as Tina stepped into the kitchen, her heels replaced by the soft press of skin against the linoleum. He didn’t move—couldn’t, not with his wrists still swollen from the cuffs, his ankles heavy with chain—but the sound cut through his focus like a knife. A metallic *click*. Then another. She knelt beside him, the edge of her skirt brushing his knee. The leash fell away with a satisfying *thunk*, the timelock replaced, padlock holding the leash connected to the anchor bolt in the wall. His neck felt a small relief. She traced the outline of his collar with her thumb. "Still my favorite way to make you stay." His breath hitched—not from fear, but from all the unspoken thoughts in his mind. The pain grounded him, snapped him back to the reality of his position. She stood, leaving him as swiftly as she came in. The rules were there, written on the counter in bold, looping script. He read it as she picked up the towel, wiping the sweat from her collarbone with slow, deliberate strokes. *"Good boy."* She clicked her tongue. He exhaled, the towel forgotten. The rules were written in his skin now. The fruit glinted. The pillow called. The cuffs rattled against his wrists, the reminder of her presence still humming in the air. And the weight of the choice. He closed his eyes again. The pain would come, but so would the pleasure. If he obeyed.

Make him read the news to himself. Make him feel his thoughts in his body. There was no question in his mind about what his decision would be. But there was a fear what would make him stumble today? Yesterday it was the sudden harshness of her putting the chain in his mouth and tying it in his neck that threw him off. He could here his heart beating faster. He would stay and serve her to his best ability. He looks over to the clock on the oven 7AM. Back to the first rule. Breathe and be silent. Tinus is now more at ease touching his collar made him feel stronger it was a sight that he belonged to Tina his Mistress.

The bedroom door swung shut behind Tina, leaving him alone in the empty space of the kitchen—but his mind didn’t. Not anymore. The keys jangled against the counter, just out of reach, the kitchen now a distant echo compared to the storm of her will in his veins. The leash around his nack wouldn’t stay locked forever. The countdown was ticking. 7:01. Only twenty nine minutes to go. In his mind; Her fingers lingered—*his* fingers, pressed into the stiff leather of his collar. The memory of her skin against his flared in his mind—*her* skin, her scent, the way her voice curled around him like a blade. No time for hesitation. Twenty eight minutes. He was already counting down the seconds, his pulse hammering in his wrist cuffs, the leash digging into his flesh. The fruit in the bowl glinted. He looked away, his breath shallow, his body coiled too tight. The pillow sat on the floor beside him, its perfect emptiness taunting. He’d stay. He *had* to stay. But the fear wasn’t just of disobeying. It was the fear of what would make him stumble this time. Maybe the way her nails had scraped against his skin when she’d tied the chain in his mouth? Fuck, the thought of sinking his teeth into it just to taste her made his throat lock with want. No. He wouldn’t even *think* it. The leash was still there, the weight of it—*his* weight—yanking at his control. He glanced up. The clock on the stove read 7:03. The first rule. *"Breathe and be silent."* The timelock’s hum filled his ears. 7:29. His heart thudded. Every second a test. The leash *released*. The moment he’d been waiting for—the one he’d dreaded—came and went so fast he barely registered it. His ankles were still bound, the chain heavy against his shins, but the leash was gone. No reason to stay. He lunged for the keys—*her* keys—before he could second-guess himself. The metallic click of the lock was the only sound that mattered. The chain fell away, coins clattering onto the hardwood. He didn’t move. Not yet. The fruit glinted again. The pillow whispered against the floor. He was free. But the kitchen had vanished. In the bedroom, he was still kneeling—*her* nails dug into the leather cuffs around his ankles as she crouched behind him, breath hot against his ear. *"You’re no businessman,"* she murmured, the cold ring of the cuff key brushing his lip. *"A* good boy *is worth his weight in gold."* The key *vanished*. The click was gone. The weight of restraint was still there, but now it *burned* in his throat, the leash replaced by the brutal pressure of the chastity belt. A test. *One minute.* That’s all he had. A single minute before the timelock reset. Before the cycle trapped him again. He swallowed hard in his mind—*her* fingers were on the small of his back, pressing down, her grip telling him he belonged here. The fruit in the bowl glinted. The pillow called, empty. *"Breathe."* Her voice was a whip, barely a sound, but it lashed against his nerves. Slow. Deep. Fuck. The fear *pulsed* behind the belt now. His voice was rough, barely a whisper, but he obeyed. He was a business man at least 24 hours ago. But now released from the anchor bolt in the wall he stood up the hobbel chain between his legs did slowed him down but he had the key now. He released him self as fast as possible. Getting a fresh towel wiping of the sweat and blood. He left the cuffs there. A short search for the coffee, a fresh pot, a filter. Set the water to boil. He as silent as possible walked into the bathroom. Oh the warm water felt so good. And there was his shower creme he showered him fast and efficiently, yes he could even wash his waist with the belt on. Normally he would been drawn to self pleasure him self but he did not dare to. He grabbed an anti swelling cream and one bandage for each of his wrists. The cream was good, he felt the relief instantly. Getting his body as dry as possible in such a short time. He still remembered to lay low. Back in the kitchen he poured hot water in the filter with the coffee powder. Letting the coffee dripp into the pot. He managed to eat an entire apple. Grabbing the cuffs and the lock in one hand and the coffee pot in the other he makes his way up to the first floor. When he remembers he has forgotten to put the milk in her coffee. There is no time to prepare warm milk as she is used to, damm shit he curses with almost no noise. Back on the stairs he is just in time. To enter her bedroom he go's on his knees holding the tray with the coffee pot and the cuffs in front of him.

Tina is in a good mood seeing her Rigger willingly surrender himself to her mercy. She let's him keel next to her bed securing his leash with her right hand. Than she drinks her pot of coffee silently. Not taking anymore notice of her kneeling Slave. This is what Tinus will become sooner or later. He had made his decision to stay now she would start training him. I think you are owning me some explanations she stated to address him. Beware of what you say Slave! The truth and only the truth noth

The coffee steam curled around her wrist as she set the cup down, the rich aroma clashing with the sharp tang of cold metal in the air. Tina exhaled slowly, savoring the heat of the first sip—just the way he’d learned she liked it. Milk. No sugar. Just the dark, bitter edge of control. She turned her head slightly, eyes still on his face. *"Explain yourself."* Her voice was velvet. His breath hitched. The cuffs on the tray made a noise. He’d made his decision, but now—now that she was here—he realized the cost. Not just the leash, not just the belt at his waist. This cost was his life. The *key* was cold against the back of her hand, the cuff lock a heavy promise. *"You’re mine,"* she’d said. And he’d obeyed. She set the coffee aside, swirling the final sip around before it vanished. The tray trembled slightly—just once—before he steadied it. *"You’re mine."* No question this time. The key didn’t leave the counter. *Training* began.

She orders him to turn around and to open his mouth wide. Next she places a dildogag into his mouth and locks it with a padlock. She is upset because her coffee has no milk in it and she heard him curse in the hallway. Still she is aware that his wrists need to rest so she ties his elbows to one bedpost each. His cock wants to get out of his prison and she is not amused. Sitll face sitting with a huge dildo in her pussy is the right way to start a day. She needs some time to get really wet when she climaxes she goes slow allowing Tinus to breathe than she rearranges her sitting now towards his feet. Opening up the chastity belt playing with his cock and balls after another climax she feels really powerful. Pulling some lather bands from the drawer she is performing cock Bondage and of course his balls get her fare share of plagues and pain.

Tina’s fingers tightened around the padlock before it sealed with a sharp *snap*, the metal cutting into the dildo gag’s smooth curve as it locked against his back teeth. His jaw ached, the stretch obscene, but the pressure between his legs was worse. The chastity belt—*her* belt—gripped his cock like a vice, the weight of the cock ring already making his thighs tremble. She watched him struggle for breath. Good. Punishment had to be *visible*. His wrists glinted where they were bound, the leather cuffs straining against the bedpost. She tugged once, testing his balance, before reaching for the silk sheets and looping his bound elbows around the cold wood. Not too tight—just enough. *"Stay. Quiet."* Her voice was still velvet, but the smile on her lips was razor. She rose, dragging her damp thighs against the duvet, the dildo already slick where it filled her. The ache between his legs was a living thing. The belt pressed, the dildo gag hummed in his throat, but it was her that mattered—not the pain, not the pleasure that was *never* his to have. She was here. Tina lifted the dildo, the sound of it parting from her a wet *schlick* that made his fingers twitch behind the gag. She took her time. *"Look at me,"* she ordered, rubbing the shaft against her clit with deliberate slowness. His eyes followed, wide, desperate. *"Patience."* The word was a whiplash. She sank lower, her knees smudged against the edge of the mattress now, the dildo disappearing inside her with a slow, teasing *push*. The sheets muffled her gasp—good. He’d learn. Always good. His bound cock strained, the belt digging into his hips with every erratic pulse. *"Fucking hell,"* she hissed, but the word was swallowed in her moan. Power *pulsed* through her veins, the leather and metal and desperate need the perfect storm. Her own fingers found his balls, kneading harder than polite. *"You’re mine."* This time, she didn’t wait for an answer.

After that she gets around putting her pussy all the way down over his face taking all the breath away from Tinus her Slave. She gets of him just offten enough that he can lift to survive or suffering even more. But for now she just makes fun of his dick getting small and weak. Tinus how ever is still in the attempt to win her favor. So he is ready to lik her wehn she reaches to unlock his gag. Quite frankly pleased she takes her pussy over his mouth dragging his head up by the collar and the leash now over her shoulder he is unable to fight and surrenders even more to her will. He is fuckt up and he knows that.

The gag’s iron bite receded as her fingers lifted it, the padlock’s heavy thud against the countertop like a pistol’s final chamber. *"Lick."* Tina’s thighs clamped over his face before he could drag in even half a breath, the smell of her own arousal—hot, unfiltered—choking him. His nose pressed into the damp curls of her pussy, her folds slick with more than just spit. She rocked once, hard, dragging the dildo back in with a wet *squelch* that coated his lips in her musk. *"There it is,"* she purred, feeling the way his hips jerked uselessly against the belt, how his half-hard cock twitched at the restriction, the insult. She knelt deeper, the weight of his surrender pressing down on him. *"You don’t even try anymore."* His moan was muffled by her, by the sheets, by the gag’s absence—only to be choked out as she pushed his nose into the slickness again. *"Beg for it."* No. Not her *favor*. For *that* part. Not the one he was locked away from. Her own fingers bit into his bound elbows, keeping him still while she lowered her hips, the dildo still buried in her heat. *"Taste yourself."* The command came soft, but the laughter in her throat was sharp enough to split skin. His tongue darted out anyway, desperate for release—anything—desperate to obey. Her other hand fisted in his hair, yanking his face up just as she leaned in. *"Pant for me."* The wet, rough sound of her pussy grinding into his mouth, of his gagged protests swallowed by her cunt. The ache between her legs burned hotter every time—she had him where she wanted him. *"Cry more."* And she bit down on his cock when it twitched, hard enough to make him arch, hard enough to make the padlock’s chain jangle against her hip. His bound wrists strained at the bedpost, his cock weak against her grip. She wanted him *dripping*. Wanted it *visible*. Wanted him to know—she was still the only one who got to fuck.

After using him as a slave she gets of him his face covered in her justice. He is still bound to the four bedpost. But she does not like this. A slave doesn't belong in to a bed alone. So she locks the chastity belt around his waist. Putting the heavy legcuffs back in place. After that she uses leather cuffs for his wrists covering the wound. He leads him out of her bedroom into the hallway where he is caind to the handel going downstairs

The dildo left his mouth with a final, *schlicking* pull, ropes of her sweetness clinging to his chin. Tina wiped the back of her wrist across his lips, smudging him with the evidence of her dominance—*"There you are, darling. My favorite fuck toy."* She stepped over him, the cold brush of the locked chastity belt against his sweaty thighs as she leaned forward, adjusting the straps with surgical precision. The legcuffs thudded onto the mattress beside him, the weight already pulling at his waist. *"Gotta keep you *contained*, don’t I?"* Her voice dripped with amusement as she dragged the cuffs over his hips, the metal biting where his skin was still sensitive from her touch, from the way she’d crushed his cock in her fist minutes ago. The buckle locked with a snarl of sound, the chain taut against his belly. *"Pathetic. Even when I let you out, you can’t *stand*."* The leather scraped as she bound his wrists a second time, the fresh buckles overlapping the old ones. He hissed through his teeth at the sting, but she only laughed, fingers tracing the red welts left by her teeth. *"Let’s see if these hold better."* His arms were dragged up, the cuffs biting into the tender spots where the bedpost had cut minutes ago. The pain bloomed, hot and ugly, but it wasn’t the belt, wasn’t the gag—it was the idea that she could do anything to him and he’d *let* her. Tina hooked the metal clasp of his collar to her free wrist, pulling until she felt the resistance, the way he struggled to keep his feet beneath him. *"Down the hall."* The command was dry, the tone absolute. She tugged. He flinched. *"You’re *mine* now."* And with that, she steered him toward the door, the weight of the legcuffs and cuffs and collar making every step a labored surrender. The hallway’s dim light swallowed them as the first cuff wrapped cold around the railing overhead, the sound of the buckle locking like final judgment.

Tina is now enjoying a bath in the bathroom while Tinus is staying in the hallway like a used fuck toy. And he feels like that. After more than one hour Tina is getting hungry she leaves the warm water. Sips in her morning gown passing Tinus in the hallway several times. Telling him he could wash his face and than sitting at her feet getting some crumpets of the table. He would love to and bagging with his eyes his suggestions is that she will wash his face.

The porcelain sink reflected her flushed cheeks, the steam curling around her as she leaned against the cold edge. The water had been too loud to hear him, too far away to feel the way his body trembled—chained to the bannister like a discarded leash, the chain jingling with every pathetic shift of his weight. Tina exhaled a slow, satisfied breath, slipping the hem of her gown down to expose the damp heat between her thighs. *"You want a wash, don’t you?"* Her voice was a purr, but the pause before *"don’t you"* twisted the blade of it. The bathtub’s splash had drowned her earlier threats of a tongue-lashing. Now, she was alone. His bound wrists strained against the railing, the leather cutting into the fresh welts. *"Please."* The word rasped out, raw. Not for mercy. For *permission*. He didn’t deserve it, but if she felt like giving him a chance- She turned the faucet off with a click. The silence stretched. Then, the scent of him—sweat, metal, something deeper beneath it—drifts past her. Tina smirks, already seeing the way he’d *ache* to taste her on his skin. *"Tell me how bad you want it."* No move. *"How *desperate*."* The chain rattles. *"I—I’ll do anything."* His voice cracks. *Pathetic.* She’d already heard it. Tina wipes her hands on a towel, slow, deliberate. *"Then let’s see."* She crouches, the air cooling her still-moist cunt, and grabs the sink’s edge. His face looms—half in the shadows—when she leans over the basin. *"Here. Rinse."* The water hits his skin first, a cold slap against his cheek, neck, *bound* wrists. She tilts her head, letting the cascade bathe his mouth, his nose, the edges of his gag. *"Suck it."* The command drops. And he opens, desperate, tongue pressing into the porcelain as she pours. *"Taste what’s left."* The water’s edge drags down her chin, past the glistening trails where he’d only *licked* minutes ago. *"There. *Wash* yourself."* The towel drops into the sink, heavy. Wet. Tina stands, leaving him sprawled—choking, gagging—over the basin, his face still full of water. *"Hurricane season is over. Now go eat."* She turns, already moving, the sound of his *hunger* swallowed by the rush of her footsteps back to the bedroom. The legcuffs wait. So does the belt.

But Tina has a different opinion she takes his leash and pulls him out in the garden there she ties him to another tree taking the tube with clear cold water and brushes him off. He is so cold that he starts stuttering. She is getting closer with the tube in her hand. Putting one hand over his mouth she is putting the tube into his ass. He is utterly ashamed and shocked. When she is finally finished. She slap him in the face several times. Than she rearranges changes her tone and leads him back to the house getting a fresh towel wiping of the water. Before he knows much he is kneeling at her feet face down like a dog. His heart is broken he knows that he will be soon bought back in to the basement and into the dungeon. But for now he is eating every crumpets he can get.

The garden air was a sharp breath against his still-waterlogged skin. Tina’s fingers tightened around the leash—not the chastity belt’s strap, but the one she’d looped through his gag yesterday. *"Shame on you, whining like that."* Her tone was casual, almost bored, as she dragged him past the damp grass toward the tree. The cold dripped between his legs when she took his leash over a branch making him already cry, the legcuffs digging in as she tied his ankles to the bark. The tube hissed in her grip. *"You’ll *learn* to like it."* She wasn’t even waiting for the protest his throat wanted to give. One hand yanked his gag aside, the other clamped over his mouth before he could gasp. The water struck in his mouth with bruising force, the tube pushing through his teeth *"Look at me."* He followed her gaze as she worked, watching the way her lips parted, the water sliding down her chin in the same slow rhythm of the tube in his hole. *"Betrayed yourself, didn’t you?"* Her fingers pressed harder against his teeth, stifling the garbled whimpers. When she pulled it free, he slumped—exhausted, humiliated, teeth clenched. The tube dripped on the grass between his bound knees. Then she pushes the tube into his ass. 10 seconds in 20 seconds out. And this three, no four, no five times. He got so humble outside in the garden. Than she splashed the cold water all over him. holding the tube like a weapon. Tina wiped her mouth on the hem of her gown, a smirk curling her lips. *"Face down."* Her voice was steel. The slap came in a blur, sharp and stinging, his cheekbone throbbing beneath her palm. *"Get up."* Again, the strike. *"*Now.*"* She spun him, releasing the lock on the chain between his feet. Than pulling the leash of the tree, now biting into his throat again. On the porch she took a fresh towel letting him kneel again on the wooden floor. Using the towel to dry his skin. Tina still liked him his man shackled between her legs. "Now you will rock forward just on your knees, no more standing upright inside the house" they finally reached the dining table putting another towel below his body she smiled. "Now make sure that you don't pull on the leash, it is on my wrists and I will feel it. You're here to get something into your stomach because this day will be a long day. And you do not know when you will eat next but you surely will be gag very soon" than she dropped a crumpet with some jam onto the towel beneath her his hands stuck in the leather cuffs on his back where no help. But he got better shifting his body more and more smoothly. *"Eat."* *"*Every.* One."* The command was soft, almost playful. But the chain rattled between his legs making him realize his wasn't a dream.