Part 3 of The Lyon's Den
You have 20 minutes to get to the yard. Catherine's desk holds your lunch. I instructed her to leave it there for you.
Did she understand the situation? I considered questioning Ms. Lyon, but she gave me a warning expression, indicating I should withhold my curiosity.
Nervously approaching Catherine's workstation, I experienced my cheeks blushing.
"Ms. Lyon told me you have lunch prepared for me," I attempted to speak normally, but my embarrassment took over.
What was her awareness of the scenario?
"Here is your meal and your uniforms are in that package." She informed me without glancing at me. I grabbed the parcel and transferred the food onto it. I was nearly at the door when I heard her chuckle.
She understood!
My face reddened further as my shyness was unable to suppress the laughter. She abruptly stopped and directed a cruel smile towards me, almost as if I didn't exist.
This interaction with Catherine caused a profound, inexplicable insecurity inside me.
I had forgotten about the chastity device on my penis until it tried to become erect, stimulated by my humiliation.
I trudged down the slope. I deposited the box in my vehicle, together with the underwear for the next day. I consumed my lunch while observing the techs drive their vehicles back into the yard. I plugged in my headphones and started pressure washing. The music and mindless task allowed for a temporary escape from the drama that transpired. The sound of the cage striking the side of a van or truck reminded me of my situation. I completed the task within a few hours. I felt a peculiar sense of accomplishment due to the spotless yard and well-preserved vehicles. I drove home in a daze. I was filled with excitement yet terror. "How did Ms. Lyon know about my fetishes without my knowledge?"
Furthermore, what is Catherine's deal?
Does she know every single detail of what happened and what will occur?
Am I okay with this or not?
Upon arriving home, I headed to the restroom. Disrobing, I stared at myself in the mirror, noticing my clothed body. The cage made my penis appear larger under my pants. The neighbors would likely notice my unusual underwear situation as I exited the apartment. Retrieving the package, I felt my cheeks burn. Inside, seven sealed white bags were waiting, each adorned with a day of the week. "Of course, I don't work weekends," I thought as I opened the Tuesday package. Commonplace work clothes filled the bag, accompanied by surprisingly soft fabrics. The socks were of quality as well. It was at this point when lace panties fell to the floor. "This cannot be true!" I exclaimed. The realization became more apparent when I remembered my own black g-string in my pockets from the previous day. However, I lacked clothes for the workday. "So be it," I voiced, deciding to wear both pairs of underwear. Putting on the thong first, then the lace panties, I sensed a more exposed feeling.
The techs' skill at maintaining composure made it difficult to recollect the strange underwear anomaly. Only when bending did I feel the thong grip my anus. I neglected it as best as possible and arrived at the office just before 9 a.m.
"Hey Catherine, the techs are now en route, all I need is to see what Ms. Lyon requires of me."
I was determined not to screw up this morning.
Catherine seemingly treating me like a pet, commented, "You're a good boy!"
I tried to act calm, but I knew my blushing revealed the truth.
"Can I visit her office?"
"Feel free!" She retorted in the same manner.
I strolled down the hallway, feeling my heart race with anticipation. "What's she going to make me do tomorrow?" I wondered, my thoughts drifting to unheard-of kinky fantasies. "Will she want me to worship her feet? Her ass? She'll definitely let me eat her out again!" With my cock attempting to stiffen, I entertained the idea of pegging. I pictured her wearing a strap-on, an image I'd only ever seen in rare porn scenes. "Do I have to suck it?" I imagined her bending me over the desk and fucking my ass.
I hadn't realized how far my imagination had taken me until her voice snapped me back to reality.
"Drop your pants."
"Yes, ma'am," I responded too loudly.
Dropping my pants, I saw the anger cross her face. "You're wearing your uniform, but did you forget the task I gave you yesterday?" Her eyes glowed with fury.
"No ma'am. I was just unsure, so I wore both." I lowered the green lace panties to my thighs, displaying the bulging g string.
She burst out laughing, enjoying my predicament. The laughter felt like an eternity. My cock was so damp, I hoped she couldn't see it. After her laughter faded, she said, "Oh, my little slut, you're a real treat!"
I was astonished by how much her supposedly insulting compliment affected me. Images of her dominating me reappeared in my mind.
"Well, my slut, Catherine and I have an important meeting this afternoon..." My mind instantly went to the most depraved thoughts of them using me to destress before their meeting.
"So I need you to take Catherine's dirty clothes to my house and do both of our laundry."
"Yours will be washed, folded, and returned to her. Mine needs to be washed and put away."
The disappointment was evident on my face.
"Yes, ma'am," I muttered quietly. In this moment, the absurdity of my appearance hit me. In a surreal moment, I found myself observing myself. Pants at my ankles, green lace panties around my thighs, and her g string wrapped around my cock. Waves of shame, embarrassment, and fury engulfed me.
That's when I felt a hand wrap around my throat. Pushing me with incredible force, I staggered to avoid falling flat on my back. Struggling for breath, I was shoved into one of the armchairs. I looked into her eyes. They burned with rage. I tried to apologize, but only frightened gasps slipped out. She spoke, her whisper almost inaudible. "You will do as you're told, and I have no patience for your pouting."
"I'm sorry," I breathed.
"No, you're not, but you will be when you learn discipline, my little slut."
She was now behind me, and I felt the g string being yanked down my legs. Using her feet, she spread my legs wide, making them stretch further and further until I couldn't open any wider. My cheeks were fully displayed, exposing my hole to her. The first smack took my breath away. The second drew a whimper from me. I anticipated the next hit when I felt something press against my asshole. I recoiled automatically. That's when she slapped my back hard. Pinned and restrained, I was under her complete control.
The pressure was mild at first, "relax, slut, or this will really hurt."
I struggled to retain my breathing. I was helpless; I had to endure whatever she chose to do to me. The slight pressure increased into a searing pain I'd never experienced. She spat, and the pain eased slightly.
"Open your asshole, you little bitch," she snarled, her nails slicing into my skin.
"Fuuuuck!" I moaned involuntarily. She laughed maliciously.
"You're such a little slut! Your asshole craves to be used!"
She continued to thrust something into me. I knew it wasn't a strap-on because I felt her fingers bumping against my cheeks. Each thrust penetrated deeper and deeper. The pain and excitement were both so intense. I could feel myself exuding from my cage.
"The gag was removed, and subsequently another chilly item replaced it. I felt my anus gripping onto something."
She softly cooed, "Remain still."
A click from a smartphone camera was audible. Embarrassment brewed inside my chest, but I knew I couldn't make a sound. She approached the front of the desk, tugged on my hair to lift my head. "How do you like the appearance of your filthy orifice?" She inquired, grinning. The screen illuminated a rather degrading picture. A man bent over a desk, stripped from the waist down, two pairs of underwear around his thighs, and a pink, adorned butt plug inserted into his anal cavity.
"Yes, ma'am," I responded earnestly.
She returned behind me, chuckling. She raised the thong, allowing it to snap against the plug.
I uttered a moan.
She lifted my green lace and drew my jeans over my feet. Unlocking my handcuffs, she asked, "Now, what are you going to do for me?"
I replied, "Washing clothes, ma'am."
She handed me her keys. "Excellent boy! Here are the keys to my SUV."
"Yes, ma'am."
I grabbed the keys, made it to the door, and promptly stopped. "Wait a moment, slut." I paused. "Aren't you going to express your gratitude?"
"Yes, ma'am, thank you, ma'am!" I echoed reflexively.
"Who possesses you?"
"You, ma'am."
"And who claims dominion over your naughty hole?"
That caught me off guard. "You, you possess me, ma'am."
"Well done, boy!" She giggled.
"Hurry up, you have a hectic afternoon ahead of you!"
I rushed out the door. With each stride, I felt the plug. The ride ahead was going to be tough. Driving to her residence, Catherine surveyed me. She opened her car's trunk and, just before turning her back on me, muttered, "Don't touch or misuse my garments!"
I carried her laundry to the back of Ms. Lyon's black SUV. I hopped into the driver's seat, unintentionally forgetting about the plug until the painful yet pleasurable sensation pulsed through my core. I tapped the home button on the screen to initiate navigation and drove away.
The journey was mundane. I reflected upon the fact that I could sell everything I owned and not even come close to affording this vehicle. I navigated down a long driveway, marveling at how massive the property was. A mansion with gardens, a fountain, and what must be the largest house I'd ever encountered. I parked in front of the house, and retrieved the first load of laundry.