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  • Pet's Disgrace Pt. 01

Pet's Disgrace Pt. 01

It's been ten days and Jordan was dying to come. The arousal was persistent, crawling all over his body, concentrated in his cock which seemed semi-erect most of the time and which became achingly, almost painfully hard with the slightest stimulation. He hadn't been able to focus properly for the last few days, his thoughts veering off towards sexual images and ideas. It was late now, and he knew he shouldn't really be watching any porn because it would make his torment even harder to bear. He felt like an over-sexed, perverted zombie and he hated it as much as he loved it.

On his computer screen, two young women dressed in low-cut tops and short skirts revealing the shape of their perfect butts were laughing and spitting at a naked man, kneeling on the floor on all fours and licking a puddle of disgusting looking matter from the stone tiles.

He groaned and reached to his cock, now throbbing. It felt hot and rock-hard in his hand, and each stroke he gave himself slowly, carefully, making sure that he doesn't get to the point of no return, made him shake and moan a little. He needed to cum so badly he felt he'd go crazy if he wasn't allowed a release soon.

He looked at his phone again, pointlessly really because it wasn't set to silent and he knew he would hear it if a message arrived. He knew it wasn't very likely because Mistress was almost certainly asleep at this hour in her time zone, and she'd said she'd be busy in general.

'I need to cum so bad Mistresz. Please please let me earn an orgasm. I'll do anything.' He typed in anyway, hands shaking. Even doing that made him feel more horny. The humiliation of asking - of begging - of having to ask even though there was nothing real, apart from his own twisted desires, that forced him to do it.

He remembered her saying this to him 'It's not a power I have over you, pet. It's a power you gave me because you are a deviant little whore who can't keep his filthy fingers off his pathetic dick and needs someone to control him. Because once I do say 'yes' you come so hard, don't you, pet? You'll never get rid of this thing. It's not me that you are addicted to, it's your own kink that owns you. So better admit it, and we get on just fine.'

He did. He'd admitted this, and more, in writing and on tape. He'd put a poster up on the college notice board which listed some of his most shameful actions. He'd recorded himself, hard and leaking cock in hand, saying these things, and she'd posted them on a porn site, out there for he whole world to hear and see.

In the last of days he got hard in every place on campus in which she made him do degrading things. The toilet stall whose walls he'd licked. The notice board where the poster went up. Another bathroom in which she'd made him sit with a pair of lacy red panties round his ankles until other people came, went and commented on his predicament. The social room in the dorm where he'd rubbed his cock and ass against pieces of furniture like a pathetic dog. The classroom in which he'd sat with a growing erection, while she sent him photos of her leather-clad pussy and snippets of text designed to make him squirm.

There was a part of his mind that was aware of the absurdity of the whole situation. There was nothing that was really stopping him from jerking off. She didn't need to know, he thought, his hand gripping his dick. There was a lot of precum, drying stickily on his fingers. His balls felt tight and heavy at the same time, and his ass was clenching. And yet he couldn't do it.

He got up and reached for one of his buttplugs, the biggest one. Lubed it up and started working it into his ass. It felt agonisingly pleasurable, the waves of arousal verging on unbearable. He slapped his cock hard, thinking of how she'd like that - she always liked him to hurt himself. That didn't really work, so he slapped his balls, so hard that he cried out, which helped a bit to distract him from the desperate state of his cock. The plug went in, all the six inches of it and he rocked on it, his ass stretched and filled, his prostate a hot kernel of pleasure, his cock close to bursting.

His phone pinged then.

He left the plug in and picked the phone up.

'Sounding a bit desperate, huh? Been watching too much porn? I have news for you, pet. Do you want to play for real?'

Jordan didn't know what she meant, but he typed back, his hands shaking.

'yes please mistress'

The reply came almost immediately.

'Let's just go through your limits then. Nothing illegal, no blood, no scat, no bi, no friends and family, no cum eating, no permanent damage or marks. Anything else is go, yes?'

He felt dizzy, and even more horny than before.

'yes, mistress'

This time she took a bit longer to reply, and the message that came through was longer too.

'Get your sissy gear on. The sluttiest panties, the hold-ups and plug your ass with the medium plug. Dress normally on top. Sweatpants and trainers or something like that will do. Bring money, cards, car key, phone. There is a triangular patch of grass at the back of the campus arts centre, with a lamppost in the middle, by a low wall. Be there in 30 minutes and wait for instructions.'

It was odd. It seemed wrong. The time was wrong, it was after 1am. And what was the car key and money stuff about? He didn't know, but he was too horny, too worked up to think too long about any of that. All he could focus on was the aching need for release that brought with it an overwhelming desire to do anything she told him to, to humiliate and degrade himself, to be exposed for everybody to laugh at and insult, to do anything, anything at all for this woman who pulled his strings form thousands of miles away.

He dressed like she told him to and walked out of his room, his cock with what now seemed like a permanent, leaky hard-on, his ass filled, a bit uncomfortably but also pleasurably, with the slightly smaller buttplug, the lacy red thong digging into his buttcrack, the hold-ups alien and tantalising under his sweats. There weren't many people around on the weekday night, though it wasn't completely empty yet and the short walk to the location she specified made him even more intensely aware of his ridiculous state.

His phone pinged again when he approached the site she specified, two minutes before prescribed time.

'Check the lamppost. Use what you find, then kneel by the post, facing the building. Wait for instructions.'

His heart started beating really fast. He didn't understand any of this. She was in England... how was it possible to be anything for him to use here, five minutes walk from the fraternity house he lived in? Did she find an accomplice? Someone that knew him, here on campus? Or one of her other playthings? He shivered at the thought and looked around him. There was nobody there, apart from a quickly walking couple, busy chatting, on the other side of the street.

The patch of grass at the back of the arts centre was empty. There was something tied to the lamppost, about four feet from the ground. He approached it with trepidation. It was a piece of dark, soft material, velvety to touch. He wondered what it was and what to do, then decided that she must have intended for him to use it as a blindfold. He looked around himself again, then untied it and slowly brought to his face. It smelled nice, a warm, spicy, flowery scent of perfume mixed with a faint smell of cigarettes. He looked around himself and wondered what would happen if anybody saw him, his mind grasping for possible excuses and explanations.

His heart was racing, and his cock was fully erect, straining against the thong and making a painfully obvious bulge in his sweatpants. It felt like his will was taken away from him. His hands felt controlled, not his anymore. They tied the scarf around his head and he dropped to his knees on the damp grass, like a puppet controlled from a distance by a power that won't be denied.

He felt like peeking out and checking but then he thought of Mistress telling him what a good bitch he was for being so obedient to her commands and decided against it. A panicky thought of someone that knew him passing by and questioning him entered Jordan's mind. His cock twitched at that and he groaned, ashamed at how hot this idea seemed to him, and turned on even more by that shame.

He kneeled there. And kneeled there. And kneeled there. He started to imagine people passing by. He was sure he could hear footsteps, and questioning comments being made. Female voices and laughter. He was getting cold in the night air, and uncomfortable, his knees sore and his cock getting softer.

After what was probably less than ten minutes but felt like hours he heard footsteps on the pavement. He was sure now that these were real. Then a voice.

'And look what we have here. A cute little bitch, obediently waiting on display. And what am I supposed to do with you now, pet?'

Fuck it's her, Jordan thought. It's her. She's here, feet away from me, here, on campus. Strange accent, not really British or anything Jordan could recognised. Low, slightly hoarse, a bit breathy voice. A break, as if to take a drag on a cigarette, and a smell of smoke in the air.

'Stay where you are and take the blindfold off.'

He did, with shaking hands, his breath fast and shallow, then slowly looked around. She was sitting on the low wall next to the patch of grass, legs crossed, her left arm across her knees, her right elbow supported by the left hand, leaning forward, smoking a cigarette. Pale blond hair, looking almost silver in the dark, falling to her shoulders from under black fedora hat, a longish coat that looked like black leather, spread over the wall, a dark knee length skirt and just-under-knee boots with low heels, the toe of the right one pointing at him. He couldn't see her face.

'Surprised, pet?'

The reality of what was happening had not yet hit him, but he couldn't speak. He tried to say 'yes' but what came out was more like a croak.

'I came for an interview.'

'What?' Jordan groaned.

'I came for an interview. If I'm offered the job, I'll be teaching research methods to undergraduates here soon. And considering that sexual relations between staff and students are frowned upon nowadays, I thought that it'd be fun to make our last play session more... real, let's say. '

She was laughing now, not even in a particularly menacing way, more like in some private amusement.

'Cmon, then, bitchboy,' the tip of her boot flicked up, as if to beckon him.

'Pull your pants down so anybody who happens to pass can admire your pretty lingerie. Not that it's very likely at this time of the night. But who knows. Who knows. And crawl here to pay your respects. Head down, ass up like a good little submissive whore.'

Jordan's cock was painfully hard again. He did as told. There seemed to be no choice at all any more. The elastic of his pants constrained his movement and slowed him down when he crawled on all fours across the damp grass towards her, kneeling just before her, her boot by his face.

She flicked it again, not quite kicking his mouth but not too far off that. He kissed the top first, dust and leather coating his lips with the flavour of his humiliation.

'Do some licking, pet. Make your bitch tongue useful.'

He obeyed, his tongue getting dry in the process. By the time she moved her foot to expose the sole, he was dying to wash his mouth out, disgusted with his own behaviour, unable to stop, thinking only of how much he wanted to touch himself.

'Enough. Straighten up. Sit on your heels. That's a good pet,' she said, a laugh mixed with a note of approval that made him want to obey her even more. His cock was sticking up from the panties, obscene, desperate. She flicked her cigarette end away and leaned forward, blowing the last lungful of smoke at his face. He could see her eyes, blue and wide, under the rim of the hat.

'Tell me how much you want to touch yourself, pet. And I might just let you.'

The tip of her boot landed in his crotch, scraping against his erection, the flat heel resting on his balls. He groaned, the pain mixing with excitement, taking him to another level of arousal, pushing him down another level of submission.

'Please Mistress... ohhh... please let me stroke... I need to cum so bad... '

'Not yet. Not. Just. Yet,' the boot was flicked across his thigh, gently, not more then a brush, to then land harder where it'd been before.

'Just look at you. You're not even a masochist, as you say, and yet you're letting me do this,' she pushed harder, the sole of the boot pressing Jordan's cock toward his belly. He groaned again. The boot slid down. It hurt. She snorted at his moan.

'Nice sounds, pet. I like those. They turn me on. Do you like turning me on, pet?'

'Yesss... Mistress... yes... oh god... I just want to please you... '

She reached into the pocket of her coat and took something out.

It was a leather collar, not an obviously bdsm one, but looking more like a dog collar. Or a bitch collar really, as it was covered in pink patent leather.

'Like that, pet? I am not doing some official collaring thing. You haven't earned one yet. Not a real one. But we'll need this later. For practical purposes.'

She leaned over and put it around Jordan's neck. He shivered, wondering nervously about the 'later' and the 'practical purposes'.

'Also... humiliation sluts have this appalling tendency to flake out once you let them cum. So I'll need something else to prod you along.'

She took a phone out of her pocket and before he had time to protest, snapped a few pictures, the flash blinding him on the first one that took his face in.

'You won't... please Mistress... you promised... '

She looked at him again, eyes suddenly harsh. The slap across his face came suddenly, as hard as it was unexpected.

'I promised not to demand anything that's beyond your limits. You said you wanted to play for real, pet. These are to ensure that you don't flake out. Think of it as something to protect the investment I'm making. Not to talk of my potential professional standing,' she was laughing out loud as she said the last sentence.

Jordan wondered if she was telling the truth. Was she really going to work here, on the same campus? He shuddered at the thought, his left cheek burning.

'Yes, Mistress,' he mumbled, his eyes down.

He realised he was fucked now. He wasn't sure how fucked he was, but he knew she meant business, and he knew he had only himself to blame for what he got himself into. He had no choice but to submit to whatever she came up with. This realisation made him feel strangely free. Everything was now possible.

'Get up. Walk to the lamppost. Hands up, knees around it. Hump it like a horny little dog. Rub that hard dick against it. You know you want it.'

She got up after he did and pushed him towards the post. A car drove pasts, slowly but without stopping, and Jordan was sure it was someone he knew. He shivered, suddenly scared, but the fear seemed to make his cock even harder. He stumbled towards the lamppost, the sweats still half way down around his knees, the nigh chill cold on his bare ass. He wondered briefly if he was getting goosebumps and laughed through his constricted throat at the sheer ludicrousness of this thought. The texture of his ass should be the last thing on his mind now.

The light from the old-fashioned lantern seemed brighter now than it ever did before. He felt like on stage and yet he did as ordered, his hands holding tight to the post, his hips rocking, his stiff cock rubbing against the cold metal. She was behind him. He could almost feel her breath on the back of his neck, then he felt her hand on his ass, a sudden, flat smack that seemed to echo for miles in the silence of the late hour.

'Feels good, bitchboy?'

Jordan moaned. He couldn't bring himself to admit it, but it did, it felt good, even though it was cold, rough, uncomfortable and pathetic. But his cock was getting stimulated, the roughness of the lace of the red thong adding a welcome friction and protecting it from the metal of the lamppost at the same time.

Her hand landed on his ass again, a harder slap, then another one, and then fingers grabbing his buttock from the bottom, working their way to his butt crack, pressing on the plug that filled his ass.

'I bet you'd like to get really fucked now, pet. You'd like me to whip a big, black, menacing dildo out and stick it up your gaping ass hole, don't you?'

He moaned again, unable to answer. Her fingers were now in the soft spot between his ass hole and his balls, pressing hard. The ache agonizing. He pushed his crotch against the post harder, looking for a way to get some desperately needed touch on his cock.

She was talking into his ear now, slow, low, almost hissing.

'You soooo want to cum, pet. Tell me how much you want it.'

'Please... Mistress... I need to cum so bad... ohhh... god oh... '

He could feel her fingers on his balls now. Almost touching his cock.

'You will, pet. I will count down from ten and you will cum for me. Here. Without touching your pathetic dick. Into those pretty red whore panties you're so proudly wearing.'

Jordan felt dizzy, his cock pulsing.

She was talking into his ear again, whispering obscenities, telling him to be a good little dog who'll cum for his Mistress, the numbers she was saying coming clear and yet as if from far away.

'Ten... get ready slut... nine... such full balls, can you hold on any longer... eight... you're going to cum so hard little whore... seven... isn't it a little cold and rough on this little hard dick of yours... six... beg for it bitch... (and he did, moaning a please through clenched teeth)... five... louder slut, let everyone hear how much of a dirty whore you are... (he yelled out 'I'm your whore, Mistress!')... four... three... he felt fingers brushing his throbbing cock, now sore from rubbing against the metal and yet still so hot and hard... two... the fingers clasped his cock head for a fraction of the second, then moved away... one... now, bitchboy, cum.

He did, convulsing there, what felt like torrent of jizz squirting out of his tormented cock, dripping stickily into the red panties, his legs went soft and he slid down the post to his knees, cum pouring in spurts from his barely touched, bruised cock, his teeth clenched, biting his lip hard, his breathing almost stopping.

He came to still holding on to the lamppost, the plug in his ass suddenly wildly uncomfortable, waves of nausea coming over him, his eyes darting around to check if anybody saw his humiliation, the doubts and shame filling his mind. He wanted to run now, get home, clean up, get the clothes off, get the plug out of his ass.

He felt hands on his neck, something clipped to the collar he was wearing, a tug.

'Get up, pet. Pull your pants up and off we go.'

Her voice was low, steady. Almost warm. Almost compassionate.

'Please, Mistress... may I go and clean up?' he stammered. He couldn't bring himself to look at her.

She laughed.

'Having second thoughts? No, sweetie. This is just a beginning.'

She pulled the lead attached to his collar and he scrambled up, his eyes fixed on the ground, the wet stain spreading through the panties to the front of his sweats.

'Where is your car? We have a bit of a drive.'

-tbc

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