Mistress Motivational - It's good to have a plan... (Patreon)

The room was always too quiet when she left him alone. The air hung heavy, perfumed with the scent of jasmine and leather, a combination that now made his stomach flutter with butterflies.

He sat on the edge of the chaise, his delicate hands—nails painted in soft blush pink—resting on his smooth thighs. The silk of his dress whispered against his skin, constantly reminding him how far he’d come.

His eyes drifted to the far wall, the memory flooding back. ..

...the first time she had laid it all out for him.

The plan.

HER plan.

His breath hitched, and he felt the familiar ache between his legs, though it was dull now, muffled by the tiny cage she had locked him in. The smallest one yet...

...yet...

It had been just over a year ago. Time was becoming slippery, denial and unending sexual teasing making it a wet concept to hold onto.

It was the first time he had been allowed into her study. The air was different there—charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. That jasmine and leather scent, like the charge before lightning.

She stood by the mahogany desk, her silhouette sharp against the dim light. Her voice sent a tingle down his spine.

"Come, pet."

It was almost funny in hindsight.

She was telling him to come... but to show him something that would make it so that he would never be allowed to cum again.

He’d obeyed. He always obeyed. She had that power over him.

But this time, he knew. He knew he shouldn't. He knew he should leave and run and never look back.

She gestured to the desk, and his eyes followed growing wide at the items laid out in a perfect line. Cages. Small, gleaming things, each one a little smaller... a little crueler... a little more extreme than the last.

At the end of the line was one so tiny he could not imagine even trying to put it on.

His stomach twisted. He felt sick.

Next to each cage was a dildo. Black, sleek, and growing in size as the cages shrank. The largest one, resting next to the tiniest cage, was a monstrousity, intimidating in a way that made his mouth go both dry and wet at the same time.

He had stared at them, his mind racing, trying to deny what he knew they meant. But he knew...

"Do you see?" she asked, her voice low and hypnotic. Making him want her. Making him want to please her.

He had only nodded, unable to speak. His throat felt tight, his body trembling with a mix of fear and arousal.

"Each cage," she continued, tracing a finger along the line of cages, "will shrink you. Make you less of what you were. And each toy," her perfectly manicured nail, slowly touched the tip of each black phallus, "will make you more of what you will become. A good girl. My good girl."

The words had struck him like a physical blow. Why didn't he protest? Why didn't he beg her not to do this. Not to do this to him?

But even then, even in that moment, he felt the pull. The terrible, irresistible pull of surrender...

...of submission...

He nodded again, his voice a whisper.

"Yes, Mistress."

Now, sitting in the quiet room, he touched the cage between his legs gently, feeling the cold metal against his skin. It was so small now, so insignificant. He could barely remember what it felt like to be free of it. He could barely remember himself.

His eyes drifted to the mirror across the room. The reflection staring back was unrecognizable. Soft, delicate features framed by cascading waves of blonde hair. Full lips, painted in a shade of rose that matched his nails. The dress hugged his slender frame, the fabric shimmering in the low light.

He looked like a doll. A perfect, submissive doll. A toy.

Despite the crushing tininess of the cage, he felt a horrified throb. He wanted to fuck the reflection. He wanted to see her fucked. And that made the look on the reflection's face look all the more sexy. He felt the familiar warmth spread through him. The warmth that came when he thought of her. Of her hands on him, her voice in his ear, telling him how beautiful he was. Of the firm object she would slide into him each and every night. The object that now no longer felt as monstrous as it had only a few weeks ago.

He felt the wetness between his legs as liquid oozed from the tiny cage.

He stood, smoothing the dress over his hips, and walked to the mirror. He touched his reflection, tracing the outline of his lips. He didn’t know who he was anymore. But he knew what he was. What she had made him.

His eyes go over to the desk. To the last two objects laid out. He no longer doubted he would fit in the smallest cage. It was all that was left. No where else to go. The monster beside it still terrified him. But he knew she would slide it into him, just as she done with each and every size before it.

And soon... it would just be a part of who he was.

A caged toy for her to fuck.

The smell of Jasmine and leather filled the room and despite everything that had happened so far, her voice still made his stomach knot in fear.

"It's time."