Finn Ch. 05: Worthy

He groaned and tried to roll over, rolling back onto his stomach when pain shot through his lower body. The dull ache between his legs reminded him of the pleasure he had been denied. He tried to straighten his arms, but the chain held his hands tight underneath his chin. He pulled against it then closed his eyes, finding the restriction strangely calming.

When he heard footsteps coming down the hall he opened his eyes in time to see her walk through the doorway.

"Good morning," she said, looking down at him. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, Mistress." He winced when she ran her hand over his wounds. His body responded desperately to her touch, hardening when the softness of her fingers cooled the heat still tearing through him.

"In the morning I expect you to be up in time to shower, eat breakfast and get to work. What time do you need to get up to complete all those things?"

"Seven, Mistress."

"Okay. You will get out of bed and wait for me here," she said, pointing at the floor in front of her.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Go ahead," she said, still pointing at the floor.

He got to his knees slowly, pain searing through his body.

"After you take a shower and get dressed you can come eat breakfast." She reached down and undid the chain then unbuckled the collar. Her hand moved lower, wrapping around his length. "Do not touch yourself while you're in the shower."

He bit into his lip when her hand stroked from his base to his tip. "Yes, Mistress."

His hand ran over his bare neck as he made his way to the bathroom. He shut the door and turned on the shower. While he stood waiting for the water to heat up he turned around to glance in the mirror. Thick red marks covered his backside starting just below his waist and ending midway down his thighs. He quickly averted his gaze and stepped under the flow of the water.

Every move and every thought brought back memories of every moment he had spent with her, and every way she had pushed and punished his body. His desire for release was unyielding, and he realized any evidence from misconduct would be quickly washed down the drain. He grasped himself and began stroking, turning his back towards the water so he could imagine the sting against his wounds was her punishing him once again. His mind was too lost in his reverie to hear the bathroom door open.

"I thought I told you not to touch yourself," she said, jerking back the curtain.

He jumped and froze, releasing his hold. "I...I...," he stammered, but the tension in his body betrayed his truth.

She reached into the shower and spun the left handle. Ice water poured down on him, shriveling his arousal within seconds.

"Out," she said, turning off the water.

He stepped out and toweled off quickly, trying to rub the goosebumps off his skin. Even through his shivering his face burned, mortified at having been caught masturbating in her shower like an adolescent boy. He followed her back to the bedroom then got to his knees, thinking it was what her next command would be.

"Stand. Legs apart, hands behind your back."

When she walked to the dresser he tensed, waiting to see her grab the strap. Instead she opened the top drawer and began rustling through it. The item she pulled out was clear plastic, and from what he could see he was already regretting the poor choice he had made.

"When you realize you don't get to do anything without my permission this process will become much easier for you." She slid a ring behind his sac and up over the base of his shaft, slipped a clear case over his length then locked everything in place with a small padlock. "Get dressed. And you'll need to bring some clothes from your house if you intend to continue staying here, but not too much."

He watched her walk out of the room then went to grab his jeans off the floor where he had left them the night before. The device felt strange and heavy when he started moving. There was no way out without the key, which he prayed she had somewhere. After he pulled on his pants he examined himself to see if anyone would be able to notice. The prison was well hidden under his jeans, its prisoner incapacitated.

She was already seated at the table when he walked into the kitchen, and the heat in his face lit up again under her stare. He grabbed the plate off the counter and brought it to the table, then hesitated before deciding to sit down on the floor.

"Good boy." The words came softly from her mouth, not intending to mock or patronize but to assure him that he had made the right choice.

The cage crushed him when his body began trying to recover from its recent ice shower. Part of him wanted to shift his weight as much as possible to alleviate the pain, but the part of him that had brought him back to her house made him want to grind his hips into the floor to relive the memory of the previous night.

"Am I allowed to ask questions?" he asked, though he wasn't sure if he should be asking questions when he was terrified of the possible answers.

"Of course."

He looked down at his plate and jabbed his fork into the pancakes, unsure of what to ask first or how to ask it. "What am I supposed to be doing? I mean, what is it that I'm expected to do, or not do?"

"I expect you to behave, and be obedient," she said, stripping him with her gaze.

His eyes ran over her work attire, which consisted of black slacks, a light blue button up shirt and shoes that though he didn't know what the proper name for them would be, they were clearly not boots. It was much less revealing than what he was used to seeing her in, but it didn't make her appear any less intimidating. "Am I supposed to become like the men at the house you brought me to?"

"You're not supposed to become anything, Finn. People are who they are, no amount of training will change that." She crossed her legs and tilted her head to the side. "Why did you come back here?"

Because he missed the feel of the collar around his neck and the sound of the chains when he pulled against them reassuring him that he was no longer in control. But he had only become that person since meeting her. She had a way of running off his self respect, and his self control. "I don't know."

"You don't know or you don't want to say it?"

He shifted his weight slightly, just enough to send a shock of pain up his spine. He could never say it. Not to her, not even out loud to himself.

"It's okay, you don't have to say it," she reassured him. "You don't have to make this easy for me. I don't mind taking the time to figure it out for myself."

He moved his eyes to her legs, remembering what they looked like underneath her slacks. "Are they slaves? The men at that house?"

"Community slaves."

"I don't understand what that means." He looked up at her face, trying to focus on the words coming out of her mouth and not just the movement of her lips.

"Our community has eight chateaus, and all our members have to abide by our set of regulations. In our community the submissive decides after their training whether they want to stay a submissive or become a slave. If they choose to become a slave, they make the decision whether they want to be owned by one mistress or serve all the dommes in the community."

"What's the difference between a submissive and a slave?"

"A submissive who is trained by one of our dommes is always considered part of our community, and they can participate in community activities at their discretion, and participate in agreed upon scenes with any domme who wishes to top them." She paused and looked away briefly, her lips pressing against each other. "A slave is a slave. They choose to abide by the rules of consensual non-consent. They're a slave all day, everyday and can be used in any way and at anytime their owner chooses."

It took him a moment to absorb the meaning of her words. He couldn't understand why a person would willingly give up that amount of control and willingly live that way for the rest of their existence. "Why don't you have your own personal slave?"

"I don't keep slaves."

"Why not?" She was part of the community she spoke of and admitted to enjoying controlling men. It made no sense that she wouldn't want to keep a slave of her own, or possibly more than one if the rules allowed it.

"I have my reasons."

He looked down at his hands which were busy folding and unfolding the bottom of his untucked shirt. There was only one other question he had, but had been afraid of the answer since the first time she had collared him on the floor of the limousine. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Come on now, Finn," she said, the curve of her lips turning up at the corners, "you know I can't tell you that. Half the fun is in not knowing what's coming next."

"But what if it's something I don't want done to me?" The words came out more hoarse than he had planned, and his heart felt like it would burst through his ribcage if it pounded any harder.

"Like what?" she asked, leaning towards him.

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know." He had never been so lost. How could he list his limits on his fingertips when right now all he could think about was how she looked from his knees?

She stood up and walked over to him, kneeling down so her eyes were the same level as his. "I'm not here to beat you down, I'm here to make you strong enough to handle giving up control." She spoke softly, running her fingers through his hair. "I know you enjoy when I punish you, but I also know you're not comfortable saying the words. And that's okay. I will always push your limits, because that's where you will find yourself, but I will never cross the lines you set."

He wanted to lean forward and press his lips against hers, and if it meant she would reignite the marks on his hips, it made it even harder to resist the urge.

"Do you remember your safe word?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"What is it?"

"Your name, Mistress."

"Good boy"

*******************************************

It was still early when she arrived home from work. The driveway was empty and she wondered how Finn was faring at his job with his wounds from the night before. Her own arousal was becoming more nagging the more she played with him. Every time he knelt before her a familiar need pulsed through her veins.

When she walked into the kitchen to prepare dinner she thought about how lucky her subs were. Most dommes expected their subs to do the housework, but cooking was an activity she enjoyed. It was peaceful and allowed her another outlet for creativity. It was also an act she considered vanilla. Whenever she cooked she escaped the lifestyle for a little while, just long enough to miss it.

She began dicing carrots and potatoes, thinking back to the events of the morning. It was her responsibility as his trainer to figure out what he wanted and guide him to discover what his body and mind could handle, and what they couldn't. As far as she knew there was no such animal as a no limits submissive or slave, though they could have no limits in a certain area. Some slaves even had no limits in multiple areas, but everyone had limits somewhere. Even she had limits as a domme, and if her limits clashed with his desires she would have to make the decision whether she was the best trainer for him.

During her commute she had been mulling over possible reasons why he hadn't locked the bathroom door. Had he purposefully left it unlocked so he could be caught? He enjoyed being punished, that was clear. And that was fine, she could play the disciplinarian to his ill behaved boy. It would just mean that if she needed to extinguish a behavior her methods would have to involve discomfort he wouldn't find pleasurable.

She also had to consider that maybe he hadn't wanted to be caught for the punishment, but for the embarrassment. Did she need to be the horrified girl to counter his ashamed boy? Or had he left it unlocked because he had planned on behaving himself, but wasn't able to maintain control? Self control wasn't one of his strengths, and neither was waiting.

Once the food was almost done she went to change her clothes, knowing he would be home soon. She put on a short black dress and black boots. Though it was more stereotypical dominatrix than she normally went for she felt it was fitting since the key to releasing him from his chastity was in her bra.

About thirty minutes later the front door opened and he walked in holding a black duffle bag in one hand.

"Go put your clothes away then bring me your collar," she said as soon as he had taken his boots off.

He looked up at her, his distress made clear by the lines on his face. He silently walked back to the bedroom, and several minutes later emerged carrying his collar. He sat down slowly at her feet, his face scrunching up in pain.

"Good boy," she praised, bending down to buckle the collar around his neck. She handed him a plate of food off the table then watched the fork shaking in his trembling hands while he shoveled food into his mouth.

After they were finished, he followed her to his room where she stripped him out of his dirt covered clothes and took off the chastity device. His body responded eagerly to its freedom, hardening almost immediately. She smiled at his instant reaction and ran her hand down him so she could hear the breath suck in through his teeth.

"You need to take a shower," she said, leading him to the bathroom. "Make sure to wash yourself well," she instructed before sitting down to supervise.

He got in and began washing his body, avoiding spending too much time on his nether region.

"I told you to wash yourself well," she scolded, noticing the evasion.

His hand went back to his freshly released prisoner, slowly rubbing soap over it.

"Make sure to get all of it."

He ran the soap over and underneath, his eager muscles starting to clench.

"Enough. Put your hands on top of your head."

"Please, Mistress..." he whined, wrapping his hand around himself.

She grabbed the ring on his collar, pulled his head down then smacked his red striped backside as hard as she could with the palm of her hand. Both his hands flew to his head, and tears flooded down his face when she brought her hand down again. "I don't like having to repeat myself."

He stood frozen under the stream of water, his hands clasped firmly in his hair.

"Get out and dry yourself off."

He stepped out carefully, his body jerking with every movement. She handed him a towel and he reluctantly let go of the grip he had on his scalp to take it from her. He was harder now than when he had been touching himself, a response that could only be the result of the punishment she inflicted.

Once he was dry he followed her to his bedroom and knelt down on the floor.

"I already told you once today that as soon as you realize you don't get to do anything without my permission your training will be much easier," she reminded him, sitting down on the edge of his bed.

He continued to whimper, staring at the floor.

"Is your need getting in the way of your better judgment?"

"Yes, Mistress," he mumbled, wiping his face with the backs of his hands.

"I see. This is your first official day of training, so maybe it's unfair of me to expect you to have any amount of self control when you've never had to have any in the past. I'm not an unreasonable mistress. I'll allow you to come if you can make me come," she bargained. "Do you want to please me?"

"Yes, Mistress," he said eagerly, standing up from the floor.

"On your knees." She pointed to the floor at her feet. "You need to prove yourself with your mouth before you'll get an opportunity to prove yourself with your cock."

He got to his knees and crawled towards her, the image making her arousal drench the insides of her thighs. She leaned back on the bed and opened up to his mouth, then remembered how inept he had been the last time.

His tongue licked her frantically, lacking rhythm and direction. "Slow down," she instructed, knowing he was trying to rush the process so it could be his turn.

His tongue slowed but still wasn't anywhere near where it needed to be.

"Go up."

He pulled away and sat back on his heels. "You obviously don't like how I do this."

"Have you ever made a girl come with your mouth?"

"I've never had one complain."

"So you think they enjoyed it?"

"I don't know, but I think you're harder to satisfy than other women," he said, looking up at her defiantly.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, Mistress."

*************************************************

She leaned back in the driver's seat, contemplating her recent decisions. They had spent the remainder of the night in awkward silence, and now she had to focus on work. She looked up at the two story group home, preparing for the chaos she usually encountered when she walked inside.

The television blared from the living room, and several different radio stations were competing with the sound from upstairs. She wandered down the entryway then glanced into the family room, returning the waves of the two men seated on the leather couch.

"Is Natalie here?" she asked.

"Office," they both replied, pointing up the stairs.

She turned and walked up the steps, glancing through the open doors of the bedrooms as she walked by.

"Hey," she said when she walked through the office door, shutting it behind her to try and block out some of the noise.

"Hey," Natalie replied, flashing a smile when she glanced around her computer monitor. "What's wrong?"

She took a seat at the other desk and opened her laptop. "Nothing, why?"

"You look... annoyed."

This was one of the biggest issues with her choice of work. Everyone was an expert in behavior. There was nowhere to hide. Dommes were even worse. They were masters of reading body language. "I'm not annoyed."

"You sound annoyed," Natalie prodded, sliding her chair back from her desk.

She stared at her laptop, trying to focus on the emails littered across the screen. "How do I sound annoyed?"

"Now I know you're annoyed."

"Because you're annoying me." She continued scrolling, refusing to make eye contact.

"Come on, tell me. It'll make you feel better." This was another problem with her chosen field. Not only did everyone know when there was an issue, but they all wanted an opportunity to help fix it.

"It's personal."

Natalie got up from her desk and went to lock the door. "Lexa told me about your new toy."

"Of course she did." She slammed her laptop shut knowing there was no escaping the conversation.

"Come on, it's not like it's a secret. At least not among us."

"I know." Nothing was sacred within the community, especially not among dommes of the same château.

Natalie sat back down in her chair, her right leg crossing over her left. "So what's going on? Maybe I can help."

Her eye's wandered over the various degrees and training certificates that hung prestigiously from the wall behind Natalie's desk. "It's not something that can be helped. This whole thing was just one big mistake."

"Why? What happened?"

"He's too fucking selfish!" The words burst from her lips, but she didn't care anymore. Her frustration was at an extreme on too many different levels and she had to release some of the tension. "I've made him come twice. Twice! He can't even get me wet. And he doesn't care! He thinks it's my problem, not his."

"He doesn't get you wet?" Natalie questioned, her forehead scrunching up in confusion.

"He does get me wet... indirectly." That was half the problem. "Seeing him in his collar makes me horny, playing with him makes me horny, watching him squirm makes me horny... but he has no way to get me off." She threw her hands up in the air then shoved them back down into her lap. "He doesn't know how to use his mouth, he can't maintain control and keep his dick hard long enough to do anything useful with it, and he isn't interested in learning."