Chat with slave man

12 Feb

So if you're looking for meet some people with different fetishes, than you better stop wasting time and sign up as you will be meeting some really interesting people that will fulfill your wildest fantasies.

To get started, all you will need to do is sign up and the put up a profile with your own pic and some info just so this way people can really see what you're like and know exactly what you're looking for in a relationship.

At first, I'd wander through chat rooms and find a guy to be my Master for a night, and for an evening I'd be his little slut, giving my mind over to his pleasure, trying to be the girl he wanted. I stopped touching myself and crossed my arms, gripping my forearms tightly. The next day in the mail was an envelope, shipped express. And being turned on by the money only made me feel sluttier. I rubbed at the tube, then at the whole slave-mound between my legs, but there was no relief. I picked at the lock with a fingernail, but of course this was fruitless. I began to tug at the device, then pull hard, and was greeted only with aching pain for my efforts. Be good, slave." "Please, Master, wait--" But the line was dead. The tears began to flow again, and I blearily made my way to bed. The only way I had to reach him was e-mail, and he never responded.

My fantasy was always being forced to serve while kept in some sort of chastity device: a belt or a cage, usually. And I promise I'll take care of you as long as you remain true to me, slavegirl. Leaving me alone, in my apartment, with my hard cock in my hand. I went to bed like that, and laid there for a long time, trying not to think about how turned on I was, trying not to think about Sean and what I had agreed to. There was no way to remove the thing short of tearing off my trapped genitals. A man who could be anywhere in the world, for all I knew. A man who I had on many occasions begged to keep me in brutal slavery and chastity. Because I'm giving you my word that I'll grant you release in thirty days. I realize now that Master was testing me, but at the time all I knew was frustration and fear.

I told him my problems: about how hard it was to make ends meet, about how I was failing out of school (mostly because I was talking to Sean and neglecting my work), about how I had no job, about how I was alone in a strange city. I would just wait in vain for a call that would never come for the rest of my life.

Master was paying my bills, and I was servicing him at night on the phone. I confusedly thought that my days of peeing while standing up were over.

And meanwhile, he'd be mercilessly using me for his pleasure several times a day. But you'll have to do something for me." I was nervous. On the worst nights, when the ache was utterly unignorable and sleep eluded me, I drank myself into black unconsciousness. Sure, it might destroy my cock and balls, but it wasn't like I had them now.

My body would be transformed into that of a nubile little girl through a variety of fantastical means, whatever struck our fancy: surgery, drugs, magic. We always talked about this fantasy, always adding new episodes, new wrinkles. But gradually Sean began to probe me in questions about my real life (somehow he always dodged mine). I couldn't fulfill or relieve my libido, but I could blot it out for a little while. And it would be an escape from the delicious tingly ache that was my only companion. The only thing that kept me going was my hope that Master would keep his word. I had no reason to doubt that he would release me from this infernal device after the agreed term of one month. I began to irrationally think that something had happened to Sean, that he had died in an auto wreck or some other senseless accident, and the key to my chastity tube was lost forever.

He was just so cool, so confident, and it seemed like his desires were the perfect complement to mine: he obviously wanted a feminized slavegirl as badly as I wanted to be one. As I stroked at the tube, wishing for the slightest sensation, I began to weep. I looked up at the clock through a blur of tears: Midnight. You wouldn't be crying like the bitch you now are if you hadn't put it on." "But how --" "Shut up." I blushed. Because it can't be cut off, at least not at any temperature that would leave you with genitals when it was done." "Yes, Master," I whimpered. Not least because my Master's deep, calm voice was turning me on as it always did. You know the exchange -- you get the money, I get your chastity for another month." "A month! At the worst, it felt like my nipples and anus were spasming with hot ache.It wasn't long before I was talking to him every night. Soon after that, every time I masturbated, I was thinking of him (my mental picture of him, anyway) and my -- our -- fantasy. I leapt for the phone and answered it with a shaky hand. I couldn't bear to meet the gaze of women in the street, for it just gave me a pathetic feeling of sick longing.Sometimes I'd find myself waiting up until 2 or 3 A. Over the weeks and months, it developed: me turned from a college boy into his slutty little housemaid slavegirl. " I gulped, but said, "Yes, of course, Master." "Then show me your faith, slavegirl. I'd masturbated every day, more or less, since I was twelve. They seemed impossibly beautiful and aloof, and there was no question they were utterly sexually inaccessible. I tried watching pornography a few times, but it just made me frustrated and sad. As such, I was reminded multiple times a day of my stupidity, my new humility, and what I had really given up -- not just my orgasms but my gender.I was in college then, and always straight in real life, although not very successful with the ladies. - Your Master" I was instantly very, very turned on. I was getting turned on thinking about my newly chastised condition. Even the paltry pleasure of masturbation was quite impossible. A fantasy was one thing, great in small doses that ended with a nice orgasm.But my dirty little secret was that I liked to go online and indulge my fantasy: being enslaved, feminized, and kept in chastity by a man. It was mostly the note, but the money didn't hurt either. Later that week, I jerked off, as I had known I would. But now my poor penis was trapped, imprisoned in an utterly inflexible metal casing. The only feelings I had were a hot flush throughout my body and a warm, tingling pressure inside my chastity cage. But now I'd gotten carried away, and it was real, all too real. Master no longer called or came to the usual places online.