Mistress Demi and Clock Ch. 03 – BDSM

Clock peers into the suitcase of parcels over the rim of their dog bowl, sticky pastry crumbs coating Clock in a mock beard. There are some interesting shapes in there, but the biggest eye catcher is the one resting under all the others. It almost perfectly fits the length and width of the case, though it’s only a couple inches tall. The perfect fit makes Clock think Mistress picked the suitcase to fit the package and not the other way around, and that gives it an air of significance that piques Clocks’ interest.

Clock stares up at a smirking Mistress, who lets out that amused chuckle she gets whenever she sees Clocks’ face coated in various substances. She sits leaning forward, coffee cup in hand and elbows resting on her knee high boots, her legs spaced to send the sweet sight and scent of her snatch to her subservient slave.

“Mistress Demi, may I please move some of the packages around?”

“You may, slave. Shake them. Smell them if you want. Though be very careful. If you tear the paper on any of them, I will consider that damaged property, which obviously comes with consequences.”

“Thank you Mistress Demi. I always strive to give your packages the respect they deserve.”

Clock bites their bottom lip with their own cheeky smirk as they stare longingly at pussy heaven. Mistress Demis’ grin, however, disappears, and Clock quickly realises they fucked up. Mistress Demi snaps her fingers and points to the ground in front of her.

“Here. Now.”

Clock sheepishly crawls to Mistress’ feet, their head as close to the ground as possible in respect. Mistress Demi grabs a big handful of Clocks’ shoulder length hair with her left and drags them up, and delivers a resounding slap to Clocks’ face with her right.

“While I appreciate the sentiment,”

*slap*

“I know you’re always hungry,”

*slap*

“For my pussy.”

*slap*

“What you just did,”

*slap*

“Was try to take control.”

*slap*

“I’m in control.”

*slap*

“I choose when we go,”

*slap* *slap*

“I choose when we stop.”

Mistress tightens her grip on Clocks’ hair and tilts their head up to meet her gaze, staring intensely at Clock while they groan and tremble under her vice grip in silence for what seems like an eternity, before,

*slap*

“I *slap* can *slap* go *slap* as *slap* HARD *big slap* as *slap* I *slap* want! *slap*”

“Or as soft as I want.”

*gentle tap*

“You’re MY pet,”

*slap*

“MY toy,”

*slap*

“MY bitch,”

*slap*

“MY slave!”

Mistress takes a mouthful of now warm coffee, swishes it around to collect a few leftover bits of pastry in her mouth, and spits it into Clocks’ face while giving Clock one final, powerful backhanded slap before throwing them to the ground by the hair.

“Now, where were we? Oh yes, you were going to open one of my packages for me. And don’t you dare let that coffee get on any more of my property.”

Mistress Demi jams the sole of her thick leather boot into Clocks’ ass and pushes them toward the suitcase.

Clock, still trembling from being put in their place, gently removes the packages one by one, keeping their dripping face well away from Mistress Demis’ other property. Clock pulls out the large flat package. It rattles. Metal. They tilt it to the side and hear a few soft thuds as some items fall to the bottom of the box. They turn to look expectantly at Mistress Demi, who can barely contain her excitement.

“Excellent first choice Clock! Now, put the other parcels back in the bag and move the bag onto your bed so it’s out of the way. You know, since you won’t be needing your bed now.”

Whoops!

Clock returns the parcels safely to their case, places the case on the bed the bag gets to enjoy more than Clock does, and opens the long, wide, flat package. They’re quite confident they know what’s inside, but when they open it there’s more in there than Clock thought possible.

As expected, there is one large, folded down dog cage, with enough spaces between the bars to fit human hands. Unexpectedly, there is one butt plug with a puppies tail on the end. A few sachets of lube. A lightweight, breathable black and purple puppy hood, chosen for longevity over intensity no doubt. Two dog mittens with no fingers. A bag of dog treats that at least look appetising. Two knee pads. Four bundles of rope of various length and thickness. Surgical scissors. One long feather. One cattle prod. And finally, one hangable animal water bottle with a nozzle.

Mistress Demi wastes no time in mounting Clocks’ back, adorned with an ever growing tattoo of Earthly Delights that will no doubt be sprawling down Clocks arms and legs after this holiday.

“Unfold the cage while I make you look more like the pet you are. Do not let me fall off.”

“Yes Mistress De..”

Mistress slaps Clocks’ left face cheek she reddened earlier, sending them into a whimper.

“I didn’t know animals could talk. I must’ve been imagining it. Bark so I know you’re a real dog.”

“Woof! Woof!”

“Gooood bitccccch!”. From atop her steed, she fondles Clocks’ hot, hairless hole with her finger and watches with glee as it pulsates playfully “Now, there are 3 words that are safe for my animals to say,” her tone changes to one more empathetic and earnest “Red, yellow, and green. Can you say one of those for me please, Clock?”

Clock thinks for a second before letting out a deep guttural “Greeeen.”.

“That’s what I like to hear, bitch!” as she slaps Clocks’ ass cheeks and digs her fingers into those mesmerising marshmallows for a good squeeze.

As Clock steadily assembles the dog cage, more focused on being a sturdy steed for Mistress Demi, she opens up a sterile lube sachet and coats the stainless steel of the puppy plug, before popping it into her pets pulsating pucker. The cold steel causes Clocks’ cloaka to contract, locking the tail firmly in place. A few drops of lube dribble down and take up residence in Clocks’ chastity cage.

Mistress readies the puppy hood, and not a second after Clock finishes assembling the dog cage is their head engulfed in soft, smothering darkness. Clocks’ hands are deftly encompassed into the mittens. Mistress Demi fastens the kneepads to Clock before binding Clocks’ calves to their thighs with tight rope. She hooks her lead to Clocks’ collar and starts leading their blind dog around the room by the neck. Clock struggles and stumbles, never having moved like this before.

“Bark, bitch!”

“Woof! Woof! Woof!”

“Heel! And beg for a treat!”

Mistress pulls taut upward on the leash. It takes all of Clocks’ effort to hoist their body into a begging position. No way would Clock be able to pull that off without the exercise regime Mistress Demi has them on.

Clock desperately whimpers up at the darkness, no idea if it’s even in the right direction of Mistress, before they hear a zip and the tiniest bit of light coming from the mouth of the hood. An elegant hand jams several dog treats into Clocks’ actual mouth, before quickly zipping Clock back into darkness. They crunch away at the dry, musky treats that were not designed for human taste buds. Not bad enough to gag, but not pleasant. They swallow.

Clocks’ leash is disconnected. Footsteps away. The creaking of the cage door. More footsteps. Some rustling. Footsteps coming toward Clock. Silence. Then.

*ZAP!*

A cattle prod to Clocks’ left ass cheek.

“Into your cage bitch!”

Clock squeals in pain and scrambles away from the cattle prod.

“Not bad, but the cage is probably moooore, this way!”

*ZAP!*

Clock readjusts their trajectory.

*ZAP!*

“Move faster, bitch!”

Clock scrambles on all fours in the darkness, desperate to reach their designated destination. Their mask finally collides with the cage.

“You made it! Now get inside, bitch!”

*ZAP!*

Clock tries with all their might to get in, a few firm placements from Mistress Demis’ boots to correct their alignment. It’s a big dog cage, but pretty tight for a human, especially one as constrained as they are, but they eventually make it in.

The door creaks shut. The heavy duty padlock that was on the black bag is fastened to the door.

*Lock*

“Welcome home, bitch! This is where you’ll be sleeping for our holiday.”

Clock is huddled on all fours in the centre of the cage.

“Aww come on, the cage is bigger than it seems. Here, let me show you!”

Mistress Demis’ footsteps leave and return, before a feather gently caresses Clocks’ feet. They convulse in unwilling laughter, bucking and barely breathing. Mistress tickles their armpits and makes their whole upper body convulse, yet still not hitting the roof of the cage.

*ZAP!*

Another shock to the ass cheeks sends Clock surging forward, and they go for a good foot before hitting the other end of the cage.

*ZAP!* to the left

*ZAP!* to the right

Clock convulses side to side, being forced to test the width of the cage.

“See? The cage has plenty of space!”

Clock lets out a strained “Yellow!”

A pause. Hands reach through the bars and are gently placed on Clocks’ mask, a little more gingerly on Clocks’ red cheek.

“Thank you for telling me Clock. For what it’s worth, that was going to be the last prodding anyway, but we’ll absolutely stop that for today. Do you still want to keep playing?”

Clock takes a deep breath to compose themselves before letting out an exacerbated “Green.”

“Good pet! Now, those biscuits sure seemed a bit dry. Would you like some moisture to wash them down?”

“Woof! Woof!” Clock exclaims excitedly.

“Okay, wait right here!”, as if Clock could possibly leave their predicament.

A rattling of hard plastic. Footsteps away before the sound of boot on tile. A screwing sound. A stream commences. The sound of a container filling up with liquid. More screwing. A toilet roll rolling before a rip, wipe, and flush. Footsteps back toward Clock. A fiddling with metal on metal as the faint smell of piss comes from above. A zip. Their mouth hole is opened.

“Drink, pet.”

Clocks’ mouth reaches into the darkness, desperate to find the nozzle. They eventually find the long protrusion of stainless steel to fill another hole with, before suckling on the steel teat. Warm. Acidic. The golden nectar dribbles down Clocks’ throat; the smell like a concentrated cordial of Mistress Demis’ pussy. An impressive amount of precum oozes from Clocks’ chastity belt.

“Oops, don’t want to waste that! An animals’ seed can be quite valuable, you know!”

Mistress Demis’ hand reaches through the bars and grips Clocks’ junk. She gives it a squeeze and a shake to get a little extra splooge out and pulls away, before slipping her hand down Clocks’ mask hole moments later.

“Lick, bitch!”

Clock licks their own precum from Mistress Demis’ hand. The flavours mingle with Mistress’ piss for a unique flavour not yet experienced.

As Clock savours the flavour, Mistress threads some rope to Clocks’ collar and fastens it to the front of the cage. The last length, thinner than the others, wraps around Clocks’ petite package and fastens that to the back of the cage until Clock is stretched length ways almost as far as they can be. Hands reach through the bars and give Clocks’ mask the squishies.

“Who’s my adorable little pet?!”

“Woof! Woof!”

“Good doggie! Now, Mistress is going to have a nap. You try and have one too okay puppy?” she taps Clocks cheeks, unbuckles her boots, and jumps on her bed. She doesn’t nap though, she just silently watches her disoriented, caged, constrained, stretched, piss drinking, cum eating, obedient little bitch squirm indefinitely while she fondles her feminine folds.