Chapter 2
TWO
ev
Ilasted all of three minutes after the guys left the property and I had dragged all the bags of clothes to my room upstairs to unlock my phone and open the hidden app I had to talk with Sir Ismael.
I didn’t know if it was his real name or not, but given I hadn’t given him mine, I didn’t care too much.
What I cared about was that a green dot under his nondescript profile picture meant that he was online.
caged_pig
I went shopping today, Sir
Three dots appeared right away, making my breath hitch with anticipation.
After a few fiascos at the club, and my timid nature getting in the way, I’d switched to finding online Doms. Most of them were scams and disappointments, but my favorite thing about Sir Ismael had to be how quick he was to reply every time.
Sir Ismael
What are you waiting for then, pig?
Show me
I hurried to do just that. It was my fault. Sir Ismael expected prompt responses, so I’d considered putting on one of the lingerie sets I’d gotten before texting him, but…
I’d been distracted.
Note to self: being distracted didn’t make figuring out how stockings and everything else went any easier.
Once everything was on, though, finding a good angle to take a selfie—cropped at the neck, of course—took less than a few seconds.
The lingerie did most of the work, the white lace see-through where it barely covered my dick.
My hand rested next to it, not touching because that was banned, but enough to give him a tease.
Sir Ismael
Switch to phone call?
caged_pig
Please, yes, Sir
The second my phone started buzzing, my heartbeat rose dramatically, even more than it had back at the clothing store with Emilia possibly eavesdropping on the moment.
“Hello, Sir.” I barely kept a whimper out of my voice.
Sir Ismael liked to humiliate, and I lived for the humiliation, but the shame associated with it was still there, tugging and making my stomach churn.
“What was that, pig?”
A sharp inhale. “We talked about it, Sir. You encouraged me to…”
“I did.” He stopped me. I breathed out. “I encouraged you to become a pretty slut, didn’t I? Oh, and you are that.”
His grumbly voice had me scampering on the bed, getting under the sheets as if I was still a teenager, making sure his parents didn’t catch him jerking off.
“T-thank you, Sir.”
I wasn’t allowed to touch myself, but maybe I could…
Sir Ismael allowed all sorts of object insertion and toys, so long as I sent him videos of it. He just didn’t let me use my dick unless he was in a really good mood.
“But how can anyone call you a pretty slut with that thing dangling between your legs, pig?”
A grunt slipped out this time. This was the kind of talk we’d negotiated back when I matched with him on the BDSM-focused app. I wanted humiliation and degradation, and I wanted to be chastised for everything traditionally masculine about me, but mostly my dick.
“I-I don’t know, Sir.”
My breathing was ragged against the phone I kept clutched against my ear.
“Have you ever caged your cock, pig?”
“No, Sir.”
I whimpered. There were so many forums about chastity, and so many people writing about doing it solo, but I hadn’t been sure it would hold any appeal if I didn’t have someone holding the key. Reminding me of it. Degrading me for it.
“I’ll send you a link.” Sir Ismael cleared his throat. I held my breath while I waited for the next thing that would come out of his mouth. “If I cage you, I’ll pull random checks on you throughout the day. Is that acceptable?”
“What does that mean, Sir?”
I hated asking for clarification, but it was one of the most important things the people at Plumas had taught me to do. To feel confident about it, even if the questions left my mouth dry.
“It means, if I ask you, you’re going to excuse yourself to go to a bathroom stall, or anywhere else, pull off what you’re wearing, and show proof that your cage is there.”
“Oh.” I swallowed. Heat swirled within me at the idea, my hips thrusting upward against the air as I struggled for a release that would be acceptable. “I can do that, Sir. I would love to do that, actually.”
“Good.” I could hear movement in the background. I wondered if he was touching himself, if my submission was making him feel good. “I suppose, once you wear your cage, I should start calling you girl, don’t you think?”
My chest constricted. I gasped.
“Yes.” There was no other option, nothing else that made it past the haze of lust clouding me. “Yes, please, Sir.”
“Good.” He chuckled. “Fuck, you’re my easiest sub by far. Probably my filthiest, too. I’m going to send you the link and a task now. Do not contact me again until the task is done.”
Unless I needed to safeword. That part was unsaid, but I knew it was there regardless.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
Sir Ismael didn’t acknowledge my words. He just ended the call, leaving me with my heart thrumming against my ribcage and a hard cock I didn’t know what to do with. What was acceptable.
I almost lost my grip on my phone when his message came, the buzzing too loud in the otherwise silent room.
Sir Ismael
Your task: when the cage is there, put it on, and write what a filthy girl you are with permanent marker across your stomach. Send pics
I reread it three times. Maybe he was going to add something else.
Nope.
His profile went offline, and he had said not to contact him until the task was done, which meant I couldn’t ask for permission to come now.
I kicked half-heartedly at the sheets before turning on my stomach, rutting against the mattress.
It was a fine line between obeying and breaking the rules.
I knew I couldn’t get release, and I didn’t want it per se, but I needed something.
Some reprieve from the pressure building up at the base of my spine.
A shiver wracked down my body. I bit my lip.
I was close, too close to be able to stop myself if I didn’t right this second.
There was no way I could explain to anyone how I flopped to my back and grabbed my phone, unseeingly.
If I focused on buying the cage Sir Ismael had ordered me to—conveniently, one that offered express delivery—I could get some of the satisfaction that came from being a good sub.
It wasn’t as good as an orgasm, but it was close enough that I could slump down and get some rest.
I’d considered going to Plumas tonight, but I’d be too keyed up.
Tomorrow.
There wasn’t any workshop going on or anything, I’d just thought I’d hang out with some of them.
If María was there, she might be open to tying me up.
I’d started talking with her more, and she was a pro at all things shibari and suspension bondage.
The last time I’d tried rope was with a few newcomers who almost got me outed, so I hadn’t walked into the dojo at the club since, but María was part of the inner circle. I could trust her.