Pixie Isobella

A Story of Consensual Submission

Natalia spends an evening with her Dom, Pharos. She doesn’t know him very well yet but she knows that for him, she is just a slave. Her body is his to do what he wants with. Tonight he will torture her… How much will she endure before she begs for mercy?

Yes, My Lord is a serial story. This is Chapter 1.

Tags: Consensual BDSM erotica, breast bondage, maledom, femsub, hoods, gags, deep throating, mind fuck, fear, degradation

Yes, My Lord: Chapter 1

I change out of my street clothes and then I sit on the edge of Pharos’ large bed, waiting for him to walk in and the scene to start.

He keeps me waiting as usual, and I am hyped up by the time the door swings open. We haven’t done much together yet, him and me, and yet I feel like I already know him so well.

The way he keeps me waiting. The way he stands at the door, looking me over, his eyes already cold and demanding. It’s an act because he’s a giant softie, really. And yet I shiver, a deep frisson of excited fear. My eyes start to watch him, prey watching the predator. My muscles are glued in place.

I feel so exposed. I am dressed as he ordered: slutty peekaboo bra, crotchless panties, suspender belt and fishnets, high strappy high-heels on my feet. I cannot run in these 6-inch heels and I know that is the point. I am a decoration, a sex object, a human dress-up toy.

I am wearing the bondage gear he gave me when I arrived at his house today: cuffs on my wrists and ankles, a belt around my waist and more cuffs on my thighs. Strapping them onto myself felt like collaboration in my own downfall.

His eyes drift over me, moving quickly from my face to my breasts and further down, and I force my breath to quieten. I swallow, my lips feeling dry.

I will not run, yet part of me wants to. He gets off on pain, on hurting me, on demeaning me. 

And I love it.

Finally Pharos moves towards me and yet the tension does not break.

His fingertips drift down the side of my cheek, one strong finger coming to rest under my chin. I cannot see his face, yet I know he is smiling, a grim half-smile. Oh, he is excited too.

‘Keep your hands on the bed, Natalia,’ he says, his voice grim and demanding.

And just like that, it begins.

Pharos stands above me, his hands drifting over my body as if he owns it. My shoulders, my soft throat, my cheeks, my lips… then down to my breasts, feeling their softness, their weight, rubbing and teasing my nipples until they are eager and hard in the cool air. 

Everything happens on his schedule. He rubs at my nipples until they feel sensitive and raw and I want him to stop, or at least stop touching me there and start touching somewhere else.

He won’t though, not until he’s ready. He is showing me, all over again, that he will touch me where and how he wants. He’s proving again that I won’t do anything to stop it.

‘These udders are one of your best features,’ he says, as if informing me of an important fact. ‘If I was going to advertise you for sale, I’d put a photo just of them next to your name.’ I blush, as his hands continue to tease my sensitive nipples. ‘Of course, I haven’t tested your hole yet. I’ll do that later tonight.’ 

I thought I had blushed before but I blush red hot at his words, wanting to vanish into the wall. 

‘Stand, whore,’ he says finally, and I blush at the demeaning name. But still I stand up, my legs trembling slightly and feeling weak with tension. I feel vulnerable in the high-heels. He is so large that he is still taller than me.

I know this is part of his attraction for me. I am strong but he can overpower me easily, and does sometimes. He can hold me down with one hand and he knows that his physical strength turns me on even more.

‘You ready to obey, slave?’ he asks in that same grim voice, all kindness deliberately leached out. 

My lips are dry and my voice rusty. ‘Y-yes, my Lord.’

Deep inside, I ask myself why? He will hurt me, be cruel to me, taunt me callously. Tonight he is going to fuck me, I know he is. He hasn’t done that before. What will it feel like to be beneath him, being used by him, no softness or kindness in his eyes or his voice or his hands?

I shiver in anticipation, but still I say ‘Yes’.

He fastens his usual collar firmly around my neck, shows me the heavy-duty padlock, then snaps it closed. I feel my obedience closing in around me. I love and hate the collar. He uses it to turn me into a thing, a not-person, a subordinate built for his pleasure and his pleasure alone.

He gives me a moment to feel the collar closed around me. I have already snapped closed the padlocks on the wrist and ankle cuffs. It is symbolic of course. He would remove the collar and cuffs if I asked. But still, the collar marks my transformation into a thing, an animal who can be chained and used for pleasure.

‘Stupid slut,’ Pharos says harshly, one hand in my hair pulling my head back so that I have no choice but to look at him. His other hand is on my breast, of course, then he bends down and kisses me full on the mouth, his lips and tongue forcing my lips apart, invading my mouth. He kisses me for a long time, his teeth nipping my lips, not letting me kiss him back. I feel invaded with his tongue deep in my mouth feeling like it is halfway down my throat, his hand on my breast as if he owns it.

Eventually he releases me, and I teeter on my shaky legs. I feel so exposed in this lingerie while he stands next to me fully clothed. 

‘Take the bra off,’ he orders, snapping one of the straps harshly against my skin. I scramble to obey. Something inside my brain switches off when I’m around him, and I instinctively obey without thought. He takes the bra from me and I stand in front of him feeling even more exposed than before.

‘Hands on your head,’ he snaps and again I obey. He takes out a rope and starts to tie it tightly around my torso. I do not know what he is doing at first – some kind of harness, I guess – but as he encircles first one large breast then the other with the rope I realise what he is planning.

He tightens the rope around the base of my breast, pulling the rope sharply, viciously tight, cutting in against the tender flesh. My breast becomes a globe, almost completely spherical and distended cruelly, painfully from my body. Pharos repeats the process on my other breast, using his strength to pull the rope cruelly tight around the base.

Finished, he ties off the rope and flicks one engorged nipple with an experimental finger, a smile curling the side of his mouth.

I hiss at the sensation. My large breasts are swollen, the skin turning dark from the bondage. I feel as though the rope encircling the base of each breast is a knife edge, slicing into my flesh. The pressure inside each globe is intense and my nipples are even more sensitive than usual. I can feel myself wet and aching between my legs from the bondage on my breasts.

Pharos’ hand goes back to my hair and pulls my head back so that I look into his face, that half-smile still curling at the side of his mouth. 

‘I like you like this,’ he smiles, and his other hand drops to my breast, squeezing sadistically hard, deliberately painful, while he looks deeply into my eyes. ‘All trussed up and available’.

Would you like to read more? Here is Chapter 2.

If you’d like to support me as an author, please buy my published novella here: Pleasure Doll: The Enslavement of Isobel.

© 2022 Pixie Isobella
The author asserts their right to be identified as the creator of this work under the name
“Pixie Isobella”.