Femdom Story - Under Her Belt

I signed the contract on a Thursday night with a hand that would not stay steady. Thirty-two years old, a clean apartment, a good job. None of that meant a damn thing once the collar closed around my throat and the little padlock clicked shut under my chin.

Mistress Veda held the key between two fingers like it was nothing. She wore black trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow. The harness already sat low on her hips under the fabric. I could see the outline of the thick silicone cock she had chosen, long enough to make my stomach drop when she turned.

“On your knees, Daniel. Hands behind your back.”

The rug bit my knees. My cock tried to swell inside the steel cage and met the ring with a dull, stupid ache. Heat rushed up my neck anyway. My body had no shame left to spare me. It wanted her before I had finished the first breath.

She stepped close. The toe of her boot nudged my inner thigh wider.

“Look up.”

I did. Her face was calm. She never rushed. That was worse than cruelty. Cruelty you could brace for. This was ownership with all the time in the world.

“You locked yourself for fourteen days,” she said. “You begged for the belt. You asked for denial. You asked for training. Tonight I check my work.”

My mouth went dry. Fourteen days of waking hard and going nowhere. Fourteen nights of grinding against nothing while the cage bit and my balls drew tight. I had told myself it was practice. Control. Adult play with rules. The word play sat wrong now. Play did not make your hole clench at the sound of a zipper.

She unbuttoned her trousers and pushed them down. The harness framed her hips in black leather straps. The dildo jutted out, thick, slightly curved, slicked already with a thin coat of lube that caught the lamp light. My eyes stuck there. My cock jerked uselessly in steel and leaked a drop that ran down the bar of the cage and hit the rug.

“Disgusting,” she said, and her mouth almost smiled. “You drip before I even touch you. Open.”

I opened. She set the head of the strap against my lower lip. Warm silicone. The smell of rubber and her skin.

“Tongue.”

I licked. She fed me more. My jaw stretched around the girth. She held the back of my head with one hand and took my mouth in short, measured thrusts, never deep enough to choke, deep enough that my eyes watered. Spit ran down my chin. The collar pulled when I tried to pull back, and I stopped trying.

You run spreadsheets for a living, some cold part of me snapped. You manage people. You do not kneel with a dildo in your throat like a trained hole.

The thought landed and died. My cock strained harder in the cage until the metal sang with pressure. Shame burned under my skin, and under the shame my hips rolled forward like I had no say left.

She pulled out. A string of spit connected my lip to the cock. She wiped it across my cheek with two fingers.

“Good. You take what I give. You do not get to come. You do not get to ask. You get used.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Louder.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She walked behind me. The carpet muffled her steps. Cool air hit my bare ass when she pulled my trousers down to my knees and left them there, trapping my calves. My cage hung heavy between my thighs, pink at the tip, wet.

Her palm landed on one cheek. A hard, flat slap. The sting bloomed hot. Another on the other side. I jerked and stayed on my hands when she told me to drop forward. Face down. Ass up. The position made the collar dig. It made everything I was easy to see.

“Inspection,” she said.

Fingers parted me. One cool, lubed fingertip pressed my asshole and circled. I clenched. She waited until the muscle gave, then pushed in to the knuckle. My breath punched out. She worked the finger in slow circles, then added a second. Stretch burned. My cage twitched. Pre-cum smeared the metal and my thigh.

“Tight,” she said. “We will fix that. Reach back and hold yourself open.”

My hands shook when I did it. Fingers on my own cheeks, spreading, presenting the hole she already owned. The exposure hit harder than the slap. I could feel how wet I was back there from the lube and from the way my body had opened for her like it had been waiting all week.

She set something cold against me. A plug. Medium, flared. She pressed until the thickest part forced me wide, then seated it with a firm push. I grunted into the rug. Full. Claimed. The base sat flush against me, and every breath shifted it inside.

“Stay.”

She left me like that long enough that my arms started to shake. When she came back she had the remote for the small bullet vibe she had taped earlier under the cage’s ring, pressed against the sensitive skin behind my balls. I had forgotten it. She had not.

The buzz hit low and mean. My whole pelvis lit up. My cock tried to rise and slammed into steel. A broken sound left my throat. She dialed it higher for three seconds, then cut it. My hips chased the nothing.

“Begging already,” she said. “And I have not even fucked you yet.”

“I am not,” I started, and the remote pulsed again. The lie died in a moan.

She knelt behind me and twisted the plug free. The empty ache that followed made my face heat. Lube poured down my crack, cold then warm as she worked two fingers back in, scissoring, opening me for something thicker.

“You will take my cock in your ass,” she said. “You will thank me for every inch. If you come in that cage without permission, I add another week. If you take it well, I might unlock you after and edge you until you cry. That is the only choice you get tonight.”

My pulse hammered in my ears. Total power exchange. The phrase from the contract. On paper it had been black ink. On my knees it was her hand on my hip and the blunt head of the strap pressing against my stretched hole.

She pushed.

The head breached me. Thick. Unforgiving. My mouth opened on a sound I did not recognize. She held there, only the tip inside, while my body fluttered and tried to push her out and failed.

“Breathe,” she said. “Open for your Mistress.”

I breathed. She sank another inch. The curve rode that place inside me that made white noise fill my head. My caged cock jerked and dripped a steady string onto the rug. The vibe clicked on again, a low thrum under the steel, and the dual pressure wrecked any scrap of pride I had left.

“Say what you are.”

“Yours,” I gasped.

“More.”

“Your hole. Your locked cock. Your property.”

She gave me another inch for the words. My arms almost gave. The collar’s weight kept me present. Her hands held my hips and pulled me back onto her in one long, controlled slide until her pelvis met my ass and the full length of the strap lived inside me.

I made a noise into the rug that might have been a prayer.

She stayed buried. No thrusting yet. Just the full stretch, the buzz on my locked cock, her palm flat on the small of my back.

“Feel that,” she said. “This is under my belt now. You. Your orgasm. Your hole. I decide when you move. I decide when you come. I decide if you ever get soft again without asking.”

I nodded against the floor, frantic. My body clenched around the silicone shaft like it wanted to keep it. The resistance in my head tried one last clean thought, something about walking into work tomorrow and looking people in the eye with this still echoing in my bones, and the thought broke apart when she drew back halfway and drove home.

The first real thrust knocked the air out of me.

She set a pace. Hard. Steady. Each stroke dragged over that deep spot until my legs shook and my locked cock leaked in continuous shame. The vibe climbed. My balls pulled tight. I was right there, right at the edge of an orgasm I was not allowed to have, trapped in steel while she fucked me open like a lesson.

“Please,” I heard myself say. “Mistress, please, I cannot, I am going to…”

She stopped deep inside me. The vibe cut to nothing. The denial hit like a slap. My whole body seized around her cock and got nothing.

“You can,” she said, calm as a closed door. “You will hold it. You will take what I give until I say otherwise. And when I am ready, Daniel…”

Her fingers found the padlock at my throat and gave it a small tug.

”…I am going to make you come on my cock with that cage still locked, and you are going to thank me while you do it.”

She pulled almost out. The head of the strap caught on my rim. One more inch and she would drive back in and finish what she had started.

Her hand settled on the remote.

“Ask for it.”

My voice cracked on the first try. The second came out raw and true.

“Please fuck me, Mistress. Please use my ass. Please own me.”

She pushed forward.