Damocles

It might seem like a bizarre question now but at the time it seemed like a particularly relevant one. I lay there wondering "How the hell did Mistress produce so much urine?" I know that that might seem like a random thought but, frankly, it was the only thing currently taking my mind off the painful throbbing and pulsing sensation that accompanied the uncomfortable stretching coming from my ass and from my cock.

Normally our sessions were well planned and well organised. Well, I mean that normally I'd be involved in the planning and organising. Mistress generally liked to arrive for a session about an hour after she said to me that she would. That in itself had never been any surprise. She often liked to have me prepare myself and then sit ready waiting for her, collared, cuffed or in a specific position. She'd arrive in her own good time and then would spend a fair amount of time preparing herself for the session. I loved the times when I could hear her moving around the house, showering, drying her hair or working on make up while I sat there patiently waiting her mercies. I say 'hear' because in these situations I'd almost always be on my knees, trapped in some self-bondage and blindfolded. Mistress was a fan of anticipation, frustration and what she called 'predicament bondage'. When she was ready I'd feel her gentle initial touches, smell her exquisite perfume and shiver as her sweet breath and gentle lips delicately found my skin. Sessions would generally start gently and work to a crescendo of desperation and passion. I was, in fact, quite used to being 'trapped' in some way waiting for her to turn her attentions to me. The anticipation, the frustration and the eventual relief were electric.

Today was rather different.

Mistress had decided that we would meet at a small country pub we'd been to more than a few times before. There was nothing unusual in a 'vanilla' meeting. We often arranged to meet to discuss ideas or to talk about our normal lives. I'd been organised in good time as usual and set off for the pub. I always preferred to be there before Mistress arrived. Normally I'd cut across the countryside in the car rather than taking the main road. It was a slightly longer route via the back roads but it was far prettier and it was a lovely night for a drive. About three or four miles from the pub, still on the back road I came across a diversion sign indicating a small dark lane that I'd never noticed before. It looked as if the road ahead had been closed and there was no way to get to the pub using the normal route. Faced with the long drive back to the house followed by the drive via the main road I guessed that I'd be late and that Mistress would arrive before me. Now, vanilla evening or not, keeping Mistress waiting was not something I relished.

Turning to the left I took the previously unseen turning off the road and headed up the dark tree lined lane. The dark lane narrowed after a few minutes to a single track and then onwards up the hill through a tunnel of trees before it came to a complete dead end. Sure, there was a footpath leading off to the left and to the right and, some way off, a small ruined building joined the footpath back to the road but there was no way to carry on in a car from here. Swearing loudly, having wasted precious time, I hastily turned the car on the path and after what seemed like a twenty point turn faced the car in the opposite direction and started driving back down toward the main road. After a few turns and twists in the track, I was within a screams reach of the main road and, to my dismay, realised that the path ahead was almost completely blocked by a car. Trying to drive round it, I took my car off the path slightly and inched alongside. Just as I drew parallel with the other car Mistress stepped out from behind it and raised her hand to stop me.

Mistress was always stunning. This particular evening she was dressed in her long black leather coat. Her dark auburn hair, curled and fell across her shoulders down the back of her coat. She wore a simple white blouse and a pair of leather trousers, topped beautifully by her goth-style buckled knee high boots. She smiled, her beautiful ruby lips instantly filling me with desire and with the urge to kneel at her feet and gaze in devotion up into her dark dark eyes. I must have been sitting for some moments just basking in her tall, stylish and confident beauty as I was startled when she knocked on the window of the car. Rolling down the window, I looked up at her standing smiling at me in her "Oh, you have no idea" way. She spoke only three words before she locked me in the boot of her car, 'Out, Slave' and 'Strip'.

I wasn't in the boot of her car all that long but the cold steel of the diversion sign sharing the space reminded me that she had a wickedly devious sense of fun. I didn't even know she owned a car, the fact that she was a bike had always appealed to me. Within moments of stopping at her improvised check point I had been placed into leather wrist and ankle cuffs, these were padlocked together and my locking collar was firmly fastened around my neck. Just before the lid of the boot was closed the rubber ball gag that she loved me to wear and matching rubber blindfold were secured tightly in place. There was a click as the boot slammed shut.

Wherever she'd taken me, the session that followed, the four hours of exquisite erotic torture was the stuff of every single fantasy I'd ever had...

The session had come to an end with her bringing herself to screaming orgasm over my face, she drenched me with her orgasm and I lay there exhausted and dripping, her scent driving me wild with unfulfilled desire as she said, "you can let yourself out..." I didn't like the low predatory laugh that accompanied that instruction. Mistress knew that screaming and shouting were an instant turn off for me. I was slightly deaf after years of aural abuse and a softly spoken word, a whisper and a subtle laugh were sexy and powerful in my mind. I heard the door close and the sound of her boots striding off down the corridor. Some moments later a car engine fired up and I heard the sound of a gravel drive crunching as she drove away. Mistress loved walking in the way and with that distinctive sound that she knew had drawn me to her in the first place. She used to stride around the University Faculty building where we both worked and she knew that I wouldn't be able to stop myself from staring as she passed me by. I was a mere researcher she was practically management, Academic Affairs Officer, now there was subtle irony in that title.

So, back to that bizarre thought...

As soon as she'd gone the reality of my situation had begun to sink in. She'd left me lying on my back and I was very much still in her control. Within moments of arriving she'd slipped a stocking over my rapidly swelling cock. Between the stocking and her squeezing fist she'd held an ice pack that made my poor cock recoil in horror. She'd already slipped the stocking through the open end of my chastity device and out through the pee hole at the front of it. The cage was then slipped easily over my now flaccid penis, the stocking pulled through the front and cock gently pulled after it into the end of the tube, her favourite padlock locked the ring and cage portions together. 'Caging' was always a 'special' moment for me. As a man, the psychological impact of having a chastity device locked into place around your cock is profound. Ultimate control over your orgasms by an experienced keyholder brings with it a life life changing state. I always knew she'd let me out of the collar and cuffs at the end of every session failure to please during the session could result in some uncomfortable and frustrating consequences. After our last session, when she snapped the chastity padlock shut on me, she wore the key proudly around her neck for three weeks. I'd seen her striding around the building with the key hanging, sometimes visibly, between her breasts. She always made a point of completely ignoring me when we were at work and never spoke to me in the building. Her distain for me at work made the knowledge that I was her slave even more frustrating and just made me want her all the more. Once we'd ended up in a lift alone together and she refused even to make eye contact, she smiled innocently and silently through the whole journey from floor to floor and then, when the doors opened, walked away without even looking back. I'd needed to go to the toilet after than and sat whimpering in frustration for some minutes until I managed to regain some composure. Lets be honest about this, Mistress had real power, quiet, menacing, sensual and raw power. I was helpless.

As well as locking the chastity cage into place she'd also padlocked my ankle cuffs onto a black steel spreader bar. My legs were forced apart and because the bar was at least three feet wide I couldn't even turn over. Walking would have been impossible. Mistress left had left me entirely naked except for the clear plastic tube covering my cock. During our session she'd come so many times I'd lost count and my body was wet, glistening and smelled of her warm wet pussy.

I was glad that she'd removed the blindfold at the beginning of the session as the only reward I ever expected during our time together was the ability to be able to see her and to worship her. She really was the most beautiful woman I'd ever met. She had forced another gag into my mouth at the end of the session and had smiled sweetly at my puzzled look as I began to realise what was special about this the new gag.

My head was still locked, again by small padlock, inside the black leather topped smother box that I'd bought just before I met her. It was a fabulous device. A plain wooden box, stained black, just large enough to hold a slaves head. Other than the neck hole, the opening on the top was oval and large enough for the full face of the slave to be available for use. Particularly the mouth, lips, tongue and nose of the slave. The smother box was my favourite toy at the moment and I lived for the times when she'd place her warm and moist pussy, covered by the silkiest of panties, on my face and nose and then gently slide herself back and forward, rubbing her pussy against my nose and mouth, forcing me to inhale her scent and driving me wild. Later she'd have me worship her pussy again with my tongue and lips and then she'd come on my face as often as she could. Mistress was one of the few women I'd met that was able to ejaculate when she came and she'd often leave me dripping, unable to escape the small and taste of her pussy. Today was no different, I'd worked on her pussy and then her ass, desperately, begging her to cum and to ejaculate on me. I wanted it. I needed it. Hell I was desperate for it.

She'd left my wrist cuffs padlocked to the side of the box too. Inside the box I counted silently, ankles... 2, wrists... 2, chastity device... 1, collar... 1. Six padlocks. Silently I cursed 'Master' for making keyed alike locks, all she needed was one key for the lot. If I was lucky then one key would get me out of the whole situation. If I was unlucky the chastity device would have its own key and might stay in place for weeks. I'd initially been surprised that the wrist cuffs were attached to the smother box using longer than normal chromium steel chains. That was more flexibility than she'd usually provide me. But when she left at the end of the session I reasoned that, as I was obviously going to be in this position for a while to come, the freedom to move my hands was just enough to frustrate me further. I couldn't reach my cock, they weren't long enough for that and she knew I'd go wild trying. Then again, I thought, no point anyway, I'm caged, so why? The truly wicked element of the situation only hit me after she'd gone and I was able to move the pair of soaked panties I'd be expected to wear home from over my nose and eyes.

Above me, fastened to an eyebolt in the ceiling was an upturned plastic bottle. I'd realised there was something odd about the gag she'd left in my mouth as soon as I'd seen it. While it felt like a normal ring gag when she'd forced it between my teeth and fastened it behind my head I could now see that it had an upside down funnel fitted inside the rim. The funnel was connected to a long plastic tube and, in turn, the long plastic tube was connected to the end of the plastic bottle. It looked a little like she was planning to drip feed me through the bottle and gag. Of course, things are never that simple with Mistress. It looked as if the end of the bottle had been cut off and hanging over the edge of the bottle was a small metal weight hanging from a broad black ribbon. Sitting just above the weight, threaded over the ribbon was one of those small 'Master' padlock keys. The Key! There it was, hanging above me about five feet up. Just dangling above my head!

I'm rather embarrassed to admit that at times, especially when emerging from deepest 'sub space', my brain doesn't seem to work all that well. I lay wondering, locked in the smother box, hands chained to its side, ankles cuffed to a spreader bar, how the hell I was supposed to reach the key. In my frustration I raised my ass off the floor and then banged it back down onto the foam mat heavily. I'm not sure what I thought would happen, perhaps I thought I could shake the entire house so that the key would drop into reach... idiot.

Two things struck me at that exact moment. Firstly, that key wasn't going anywhere soon and secondly, that Mistress had left the eStim box connected up to me. The second I moved, it shocked me. I wriggled as hard as I could for several minutes before I realised that 'motion sensor' means, the more you move the longer you get shocked. Even after I lay still for a few minutes the anal plug and the cock straps kept zapping and shocking. Whimpering and desperate I lay as still as I could until the intense pulsing stopped.

It was only at this point that that most bizarre questions popped into my head. How much urine could Mistress produce? It was a pure Hollywood moment. I became simultaneously aware of all of the relevant information and the overall picture of my predicament snapped into place like a leather paddle striking my ass. It really was like that scene at the beginning of Sherlock Holmes where Robert Downey Jr, dripping with sweat, fighting in the prize fight arena plans his assault, pure stream of consciousness.

Plastic bottle suspended from ceiling, gravity feed... check

Condensation formed on the outside of the bottle, means ice inside the bottle... check

Plumb weight attached to ribbon, hanging from bottle, weight, gravity, dropping toward me when ice melts... check

Key attached to weight, an ice driven timer... check.

Yellow ice... aah......

It took three hours for enough of [what I have been subsequently informed was] "Delicious Frozen Mistress Champagne" to melt, to free enough of the ribbon, to drop the key within my limited reach. The key fitted nicely within the lock of the smother box and I was able to free my head from that dark and fragrant place. Even though my first thought was to remove the gag, I had been forced to drink almost one and a half litres of 'Mistress Champagne' before I was able to release my head from the box and unfasten it and now, thoroughly humiliated, I managed to sit up. Needless to say I swore loudly as my ass and cock were shocked again and the anal plug and tight bands were the very next things removed.

Immediately I tried the keys in the wrist cuff locks. While there was enough chain locking me to either side of the box to allow me to move my hands to reach the padlocks the key didn't fit either wrist cuff lock. In a panic I tried the chastity lock and the ankle cuffs. The key didn't fit either of those either. Swearing again I closed the lid of the smother box and noticed the pink post-it note attached to it's padded leather seat. The post-it read, simply;

'Six locks, five keys to go, and it's a big house...'

I groaned, five keys, not six and where were my sodding clothes...