Vanilla-Xtract

SHE WAITED. She didn’t know exactly how long she had been waiting, because part of the time, she was sleeping, curled up on the large soft pillows within the close confines of the steel bars. Upon waking she found her mug, a glass of juice, and bread with jam on a plate, sitting within reach on a tray. She remained uncovered, because Master had not given her any blankets to use, but had made certain that the room was a comfortable temperature without a draft on her bare skin as she slept.

The soft light in the room was emanating from the lamps in two of the corners. There was no light in this room from the sun, and there was no clock here either, so she didn’t know what time of day it really was. But bread and coffee meant that it was morning. The door to the room was closed, and presumably locked as well. It was locked, not to confine her to the room, for there was no sense in that because the paddlelock was secured on the cage door already. Master kept the door locked to give her the feeling of safety and security, that no one would come barging in unless it were Master himself. His stealth was evidenced by the appearance of the still-hot coffee and breakfast placed by the cage while she slumbered. Her pussy tingled and soaked at the thought of Master delivering a tray of goodies to his slave. She nearly came at the thought of him sitting in the observation chair facing the cage while she slept, naked and exposed for his enjoyment. This is why blankets were denied.

After sitting up and adjusting her pillows, she reached through the bars for the hot mug, and considered her present position and circumstance. She settled comfortably in the cage, and her mind drifted to a time not long ago, remembering all the work Master put into training the girl. Her thighs dripped as she recalled the way Master had weaned her from her discomfort, introducing her to the previously unimaginable joy of living as a slave in a cage.

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“But Master…” she stops herself before continuing. Reluctantly yet obediently, she reaches for the pillow and moves it to the side, then slides her naked body down the bed far enough to be lying flat on her back. She takes the pillow and places it half over her face as instructed, covering her eyes and forehead. Her chin and mouth would be just visible under the pillow, had someone been anywhere nearby to see her. She adjusts the way the headset fits over her head. “I’m on my back, Master, and the pillow is over my face. I can’t see a thing,” she reports. The rhythm of her breathing quickens a bit.

Clearly, calmly, Master speaks into the headset. “Good girl,” she hears him say. She thrills at the sound of his voice, and feels her heart pumping, quickening. “Pull your hands away from your body, stretching out on the bed.” She obeys, and releases a trembling sigh as she tries to relax. She does all she can do to avoid snatching the pillow from her face. He continues to instruct her, “Now imagine I step closer to the foot of the bed, and you begin to realize that I am busy unraveling the rope that I will use to bind your ankles.” Her breathing becomes heavy in the headset. “You finally feel my fingers caress your ankle. I am looping the rope around your ankle several times and tying it securely into a knot. Then I step closer to your other ankle to do the same.”

He pauses quietly for his words to sink in. “Open your legs, girl, and extend your feet as far as they can reach to the corners of the bed.” She parts her legs obediently, feeling a surprising tingle in her thighs and burning pussy. He stops to breathe, and exhales slowly. “Now I want you to imagine the feeling of the rope around each of your ankles, and imagine me tieing the lengths of rope tightly to the lower bedposts.” As tense moments pass, only Master’s soothing voice can calm her.

The underlying fear from the overwhelming waves of claustrophobia has her in a near state of panic. “Yes, Master,” she says through tears. She lies obediently with outstretched legs and arms, waiting for Master’s next instructions.

“Good girl.”

With the help of his hypnotic voice, and the faith she puts in him, the paralytic feelings of claustrophobia triggered by placing the pillow over her eyes mercifully subside. It’s as if he knows how powerful his voice is to her in this vulnerable state of mental submission. She’s profoundly comforted because he seems to understand what she needs. Trust in him begins to build within her and gradually, she relinquishes control.

“I step up toward you, near your shoulder,” he narrates further, and she feels his presence in the room. Imagination has now become tangible.

“Raise your wrist above your head, girl, as I fasten it to the bed like your ankles.”

She grips the sheets to the side above her head with a fist.

“Now that I’ve tied one wrist to the bedpost, I walk slowly around the bed to get to the other side.” A dramatic pause follows before he continues. “I stop to check the restraints on your ankles, girl, to make sure they are holding.”

For some reason her legs aren’t responding when she thinks of moving them, as if his hands and his ropes are truly binding her to the bed.

“Raise your other wrist to the top of the bed where I will be fastening it.”

Without thinking, she does so. Her mind is blank. Her mind’s eye is vivid with his silhouette hovering over her beyond the blinding pillow covering her face.

“Relax your grip on the sheets, girl, or you’ll restrict circulation in your hands.”

How does he know? How is this happening?

Contact without touching. Touching without feeling. Binding without restraints. Her mind belongs to him.

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She put down the coffee cup. From within her very real cage, she smiled at the vivid memories. She closed her eyes and writhed lustfully, spreading her knees to rub her clit. Master was generous to allow permission for self-love and she always took advantage of that privilege.

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/// © Master Zoomer
/// “Caged Joy”
/// June 27, 2010
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I just got an idea for how I’m going to treat you when you’re here.

There are times when I need to chill, or think, or do something that might look like I don’t want you around.  Sad? Not at all. Look at it this way: I am very comfortable keeping your cam up while you sleep, because it’s peaceful to watch you like that. It calms me.  When you get here in July, I will enjoy you for every moment that I get to have you with me. That means always.  I don’t have a desire to do anything without you. However, there are things I do alone when you’re there, like chill or think or write, or something. And the same goes for when you’re here.

What will I do with you when it’s time for me to have my alone time?  I will put you in the cage, wherever it is. It’s a foldable cage, large enough inside to sit or lie down. This makes it easy for it to be carried and moved to anywhere in the house where there’s room.  The best example I can think of is right here in the living room.  I am drafting this piece of writing right now from my couch. I think I’ll put you in your cage on the floor right in front of the big window with the curtains closed.  If you’re noisy or disturb me in some way, I might need to open the curtains to make you keep quiet and still in your nakedness, so that you don’t get noticed from outside the house where they can see directly into this room.

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This was the first time either of us had a chance to enjoy a cage, and it was beyond any expectations we might have had before. I met the host in the other room, and he was happy to give me a tour of his place. I think he pointed to some handmade furniture before saying the word “cage,” but “cage” is really all we heard him say. I looked at you with a smile. You were wide-eyed with curiosity, and beaming with delight, as we walked from one room to the next. My eyes then locked onto the white metal gate behind which was enough space for someone of any height to stand comfortably. The host opened the latch of the cage door, and stepped out of the way.

As if some internal force had compelled you to move from my side to within the cage, immediately, you slipped off your shoes, and before I realized what had happened, you were inside, and I was latching the gate closed behind you. Your eyes were fixed onto me at all times, as if your gaze were an emotional tether. Yet with a blink, your expression became one of utter submission, eyes cast downward. A slight shudder revealed your feeling of being on display for all to see. You were removed from the rest of us, isolated within the confines of the bars and wood. The girl in the cage. The featured exhibit. It seemed to suit you profoundly, for it touched my heart and fulfilled what was certainly a frequently discussed fantasy of mine. Openly and proudly, here you were, displayed as the girl who belongs to Me.

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