Moving In

Katie won't talk to me any more, which is fine. I used to crush on her bad, I mean, I wanted inside that woman more than anyone I can remember except maybe for Cindy in high school. The closest I've gotten was a few hand jobs while I was on my hands and knees, and she's always made me eat my cum after.

The last few weeks I've been spending more and more time over at Charlotte's. Not because I want to, but because she is demanding it. Her place is bigger and has chores outside that she wants me to do.

Of course, I am still naked outside. Her place has more land and is surrounded by trees and some fencing, but neighbors or passersby can still see if they look just right. She attaches a leash to my cock cage and will lead me around or tether me to a specific area of the yard with that. This makes the whole process of working for her ten times more humiliating.

I'm almost always collared now, and frequently wear a hood. The hood has zippers for my eyes and mouth; they are usually unzipped allowing me to see and breathe, but she will zip them closed when she punishes me. It makes it hard to breathe, just one more discomfort she likes to impose on me.

And Charlotte punishes me anywhere she wants, including outdoors. I am convinced one of her neighbors has looked over the fence and watched me writhe under the whip as Charlotte marked my body with stripes. Not that I can see who is there or watching. My hood is zipped closed and I can't see anything.

I hate the hood. It makes me sweat and the sweat can't evaporate and collects and I get all wet inside and when it is zipped closed it is even worse.

Punishment is doled out frequently. I am getting scars from the repeated whippings and caning, probably once a day that I am there.

The whippings can come any time, for things like not planting a flower deep enough, or for working too slowly, or for looking at Charlotte's face.

Oh, that's an interesting turn, of course. The fact I am not allowed to look at Charlotte, except for her feet. I've tested this and it appears her knees are about as high as I can go without getting a beating.

I get beatings for looking at her though. She's just so damned gorgeous. I can't help it. I sneak looks all the time, and every once in a while I get caught.

Two weeks ago Charlotte had me down on my hands and knees (where I stay unless I have to rise in order to perform some task). She called me over and I stared at her feet where she sat.

"Lenny, we need to have a talk." She took my chin with her hand and raised my face to look at her, then released me.

"I need you here full time. It's time you sold your condo and moved in here."

I was shocked and stared at her. "What? Mistress Charlotte, I... I live there. That's my home. What about my mail, my furniture, my..."

Even as I was speaking it sounded hollow. This gorgeous woman was telling me to move in with her and I was protesting. I didn't need that furniture, and my closet full of clothes was going mostly unworn; I only wore clothes to work now. The rest of my time was at Charlotte's and I am naked there.

"Your place is here, serving me. I will provide what you need," she said in a very matter of fact tone. Not hostile or angry, but one that didn't allow for contradiction, either.

"Yes... mistress Charlotte," I said. I am amazed at how easily I simply acquiesced. A few months ago I would have told her no fucking way. But now... I hated to give up my life, my house, but in some way this move simply made sense to me.

I think maybe I am getting used to this lifestyle. Servitude. Submission. Especially to Charlotte.

So the condo is up for sale and I have moved in.

I remember the day I moved in really well. I packed up almost all my stuff; clothes, kitchenware, books, computer, mementos, just... everything. Into boxes.

And then just left it all there. Charlotte actually had me undress before leaving the condo, leaving my clothes behind. A set of work clothes had been packed and would be forwarded, but that was it. I left absolutely everything behind.

I crawled out of my condo naked and into her car. Several neighbors saw me. Katie saw me. She laughed while a couple others discussed whether they should call the police to report me for indecent exposure.

In the end they didn't of course, because I was gone pretty quickly. Into Charlotte's car and off to her home on the fringes of the suburbs. There was a feeling I had been punched in the stomach. I was leaving everything that made me someone unique behind. I was leaving myself, my old life, behind. I didn't even have clothes, much less any other possessions.

I didn't move into her bedroom, of course. Not into the guest room. No, I now live in the basement of her house, and not even there. In a cage in the basement. With a dog dish for food.

There's a blanket on the floor. I can use that to help soften the concrete floor when I sleep. Or I can use it to keep me warm when I sleep. Not both.

I cried the first night I spent in the cage, not because it was so awful but because of everything that I had left. I was nothing now, except for work. Going to work was the only time I could wear clothes and have anything that was mine. Returning to Charlotte's I strip and crawl into the house and I am nothing except Charlotte's pet slave.

The second day after I had moved out Charlotte decided to remind me, or perhaps burn into my mind just how low I had sunk.

She strung me up from the rafters of the basement. I hung there, wrists tied above me, my balls tied with a twine and weights swinging from them.

Every fifteen minutes Charlotte came downstairs and added a weight.

At first, the strain on my arms, wrists and shoulders was far worse than the pain in my balls from the weights.

But after a couple of hours there was enough weight I thought my scrotum would tear off and my balls would literally flop out. The pain was getting bad, radiating into my stomach and hips.

And the longer I hung from the ceiling, the worse my shoulders and arms became. The pain was unbearable and I began to beg.

"Please let me down, Charlotte," I begged. "I will do anything for you."

"You already do anything for me, Lenny," she said. "You cook, clean, do laundry, garden, take out the trash, what else is there?"

"I... I... oh god, please... it hurts..." I moaned, swinging back and forth gently.

"There is one thing," Charlotte said, watching me with her legs spread, gently massaging her clit as she sat. "You can suffer."

I had no idea how to respond to that. I was suffering. Suffering for Charlotte. She was enjoying me trying to decide which hurt worse, my balls or my shoulders.

I stayed suspended there the entire evening. I was terrified she would leave me up there all night, but she took me down at midnight, just before she went to bed.

"Into your cage, now. Good boy. We will see what other ways we have for suffering later this week. I am reading up on it. Now, on all fours. Good boy. Stay still."

Charlotte was putting some new restraint on me. It locked my ankles into a metal bar that kept my legs spread apart.

My wrists went in as well. Locked into place between my ankles.

"Please, Mistress, don't put me in--"

"Would you rather be suspended until tomorrow morning?" Charlotte interrupted me.

"No, Mistress," I said and accepted this new indignity.

I slept very badly that night.

The next day I was roused from a night of fitful and very poor sleep and allowed to dress and go to work. That afternoon I was fired. Apparently my work performance was slipping for the last weeks and when my boss discovered me sleeping at my desk that was the last straw.

I haven't told Charlotte yet. I have continued to go to work for the last week, or at least pretended to. I'm terrified of what she will do if I confess it and the longer I take the worse it will be.

I also figured out why she has been locking me in shackles even though I am in a cage at night.

She's figured out I have been trying to get out of the cock cage, and more specifically, that I have learned how to masturbate and actually cum while wearing it.

So she has restricted my hand movement so I can't reach my cock or the cock cage.

Oh, Charlotte. My life is so fucking painful now, and you are the source of all of it. And you are also the source of all things good, the most beautiful, perfect woman and if I have to suffer through this to be with you, I will.