She Likes It More Than I Do Pt. 07

The rest of the week passed in a haze of tasks, obedience, and routine. After the intensity of the weekend, things settled into a rhythm. Goddess became increasingly absorbed in planning for her retreat. She spent most evenings on video calls with Mistress Godiva or reviewing online resources, barely acknowledging me except for commands. My days were filled with chore lists, foot massages, laundry, and preparing her meals exactly as she liked them. I didn't question it. I didn't speak unless spoken to. I was being molded.

Thursday came fast.

She packed her bag while I kneeled beside her, only speaking to ask which outfits needed steaming or which shoes she wanted polished. As I zipped up her suitcase and loaded it into the car, she paused and turned to me.

"There are lists of things for you to do while I'm gone," she said, slipping her sunglasses on. "Do them all. No excuses."

"Yes, Goddess."

"And I will be checking in."

She kissed me on the forehead, got into the car, and was gone.

***

The weekend blurred. Each day started with her texted instructions. Clean the baseboards. Deep clean the bathroom grout. Polish every heel in her closet. Wash the sheets even though she hadn't used them. I obeyed with robotic precision, texting back pictures as proof of completion. She would occasionally reply with a "Good boy," or a simple thumbs-up emoji. Each one made the cage ache harder.

By Sunday evening, I had completed every task. The townhouse was spotless. My mind, however, was spiraling. What had she done during the retreat? Would she come back different? More dominant? More distant? Was that possible?

I fell asleep with these thoughts swimming through my brain. It didn't take me long to fall asleep. A dreamless sleep. A deep sleep my body probably figured I needed in preparation for what was to come... but what was actually coming?

***

Monday arrived.

Her arrival was quiet. No grand fanfare, just the sound of the door unlocking and her suitcase rolling in. I was laying by the door already, head close to the door. She stepped over me and didn't say a word.

I looked up.

Something was different.

Her posture was straighter. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was deeper, steadier.

"Start by unpacking my things," she said. "And draw a bath for me. I need a full-body massage afterward."

"Yes, Goddess."

I wheeled her suitcase upstairs, careful to place each of her items precisely where they belonged. As I placed her dirty clothes in the laundry, I noticed the scent on them. Muskier. Stronger. It sent a pulse of confusion through me--and a throb inside the cage.

After I drew her bath, she didn't even speak. She got in, eyes closed, and relaxed completely while I massaged her feet while kneeling on the ground beside her. Her breathing slowed to a serene rhythm. When it was over, she looked down at me from the edge of the tub.

"Go upstairs and bring the oil so you can massage the rest of my body," she expressed with a demanding and confident tone.

"Yes, Goddess."

I got up and started to head towards the stairs, my mind swimming with the possibilities of what she was going to tell me about her weekend, if she was going to tell me at all. I laid a towel on the bed, and waited for her to come upstairs. With each step of her foot on the stairs my heart seemed to beat in tandem, the anticipation growing in my mind, a mix of excitement and fear. She stepped through the door and I got a good look of her in all of her naked glory. My heart now raced as my eyes couldn't help but explore her body. I hadn't seen her in three days, three excruciating long days, and seeing her naked body still somewhat glistening from the bath water made the strain in the cage that much worse.

"You look amazing Goddess, I missed..." I was cut off by her response.

"No time for talking right now, focus all that attention on my body," she snapped coldly.

The room was silent except for the occasional creak of floorboards and my breath. I massaged her body from head to toe. Her neck, shoulders, back, legs, feet. Then I flipped her over gently and began again on her front. Her eyes stayed closed. Her breathing was soft. Neither of us spoke.

Time faded. My hands moved in long, deliberate strokes, every muscle of hers a new devotion. I had no idea how long it lasted. Ten minutes? Forty? An hour?

When I finally finished, she opened her eyes and stood without comment. The silence felt heavier than any praise.

"Get dressed. We're going shopping."

I blinked. "Shopping, Goddess?"

"Yes, we need to go to the pet store and the sex shop," she said. "No questions, and no defiance, you will purchase what I tell you to."

"Yes Goddess."

***

We drove in silence. She scrolled her phone while I stared at the road, heart pounding. When we arrived at the pet store, she walked ahead, leaving me to follow. We examined several cages. She finally chose one meant for a Great Dane. The employee asked if it was for a dog.

She smirked, "Something like that."

As we exited the pet store and loaded the cage into the car, she looked at me with a flat, unreadable expression. "One more stop."

She guided us to a nearby adult store. I didn't ask questions. I didn't dare.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of latex and leather, mixed with the faint artificial sweetness of incense burning near the front counter. The store was dimly lit, casting long shadows across rows of items organized by kink and function. Neon signs buzzed quietly above racks of lingerie, restraints, and a wall dedicated entirely to dildos and strap-ons of every imaginable size, shape, and texture.

Glass cases displayed premium toys--some chrome, some silicone, many with detailed engraving or branding. The lighting made them gleam ominously. Shelves to the left showcased lubes, massage oils, and fetish gear, while another corner offered fetish apparel--fishnets, corsets, gags, hoods. A rack near the back boasted riding crops and paddles hanging like tools in a dark artisan's workshop.

Goddess led the way down the aisles with practiced ease, pointing to items without saying a word. I was made to carry them to the register: a ten-inch vibrating strap-on with remote control, a seven-inch anal-specific strap-on, a large bottle of anal lubricant, and a pair of black metal handcuffs.

Her silence was louder than any command. I paid for everything without question, my face burning.

As we drove home my mind was swimming, I wanted to ask her about the purchases, but I figured it was in my best interest not to.

When we returned home, she had me set the dog cage in the garage and told me to assemble it. She stared at me as I did so with an almost sickening type of smile. I felt her eyes burning a hole in my back.

The garage was large enough for two cars to sit side by side, with plenty of walking space around them. At the back of the garage, beyond the reach of the cars' bumpers, was a private nook sectioned off by a waist-high half wall--a sort of storage or utility area that gave the illusion of separation. It was dimmer back here, the shadows thicker, the air heavier. This was where she had me set up the crate.

The entire garage smelled like rubber and oil--classic car scent mixed with hints of metal and dust. Faint chemical undertones from old paint cans and cleaning solutions lingered too, making the air feel a little industrial, a little suffocating.

When I was done, I turned to face her, my eyes catching hers.

"Strip. Kneel."

"Yes, Goddess."

"Take off your clothes."

"Yes, Goddess."

"You've earned a reward. I'm going to unlock you. You have exactly two minutes to cum."

I could hardly speak. My cage was removed, the cold air stinging. Then her fingers began to move.

She rubbed slowly. Excruciatingly slowly.

My body trembled. My hips twitched involuntarily. I begged with my eyes. Her hand never sped up, never deviated. I exploded before the two minutes were up, moaning as my body convulsed.

She smiled, "There will be big changes from now on," she said, relocking the cage with a firm twist of her wrist. "The cage stays on. All the time. No release unless I explicitly say so."

I gasped, catching my breath. "Yes, Goddess."

"And if you fail to complete any task perfectly, you will sleep in your new cage. In the garage. No exceptions" she smiled wider now.

My knees buckled slightly.

"Your life," she continued, "is now devoted to my pleasure. Your bank account will be shared with me. I want to buy whatever I want, whenever I want. Understood?"

"Yes, Goddess."

"Oh, and don't look so surprised," she said sweetly. "This is forever now. Welcome to the rest of your life."

"May I please ask something Goddess?" I asked trying to sound as meek as I possibly could.

"Yes," the response was quick.

"I am worried about not being able to cum for a while, I am pretty sue I have to have a release of some kind every once in a while to keep me from complications," I said timidly as to try not to upset her.

"Well of course silly," she said with a brief chuckle, "why do you think we got the anal strap-on? It's not for you to use on me!"

Those words hit me like a ton of bricks.

"I guess I can bring you into a little bit of what I have planned for you. You see, during my retreat I learned a lot about the male body and the power I can have over it. Did you know you can cum just from prostate stimulation? You don't even need to take the cage off!" she scoffed.

I continued to listen, my mind racing.

"I learned about the pussy-free lifestyle for subs, and it really peaked my interest. Mistress Godiva expressed pussy-free subs can be molded so well," she said with a calm tone of voice. "I still want to have sex with you, but I don't think you deserve to feel the same pleasure as me. Plus I realized I've always wanted to try something bigger... that's where the 10in strap on comes in."

I couldn't help myself, I couldn't hold back my tongue.

"But that's not fair, I didn't sign up for this," I almost begged, "I don't want to never feel inside of you again!"

"Watch your tone," she snapped back, "I don't give a fuck about that right now. Mistress Godiva said you might protest, but all subs do this at the beginning. I am going to train you to love the cage and the strap on as if they are part of your body, you will love the way they make me feel, and you will beg to please me with them more so than your tiny cock ever could."

I gulped and looked down at the cage, was my cock really that small? She has never complained about it in the past.

"You will devote your life to serving me now," she expressed, "we are going to see how far I can actually push you. I learned that I can even train you to cum just from specific sensations, like inhaling the smell of my sweaty feet or ass, or the taste of my piss, and trust me we are going to try."

"But this was never part of our agreement!" I exclaimed.

Her eyes became angrier now, "I told you to watch your tone, and you defied me. You are going to be sleeping in the crate tonight while I draft up a new contract for us."

"And what if I don't?" I protested.

She smiled and took a step closer to me, forcing me to bend my head backwards to look up at her from my kneeling. She quickly swung her right foot back and kicked me, not too hard but hard enough right in my balls. I doubled over falling to my side, my head now resting on the floor. I grabbed my balls that were now aching and closed my eyes. I felt the heat from her foot now finding its resting spot on my face.

"Then I will flush the keys to your cage down the toilet and you'll never be free again. Now get in the crate.

My stomach lurched as I crawled forward on my hands and knees. The metal floor was cold beneath my skin, the bars rattling a little when my shoulder brushed them. I squeezed inside, curling onto my side to fit, the top of the cage only an inch above my hip.

She produced a chunky brass‑colored padlock--something new, engraved with an ornate "G"--and clicked it through the latch.

"Mistress Godiva gifted me this on the final day," she said softly. The shank snapped shut with finality.

Without another word she turned, flipped the wall switch, and the single bulb died. Darkness swallowed the garage. Her heels receded, the interior door thudded, and I was alone.

Minutes stretched. The metal pressed into my ribs, my knees, my cheek. Every minor shift scraped skin or pinched flesh, and the dull ache in my balls echoed with each throb of the cage. I tried to find a position--any position--that didn't hurt.

Pain breeds reflection. I replayed her words: pussy ‑ free, prostate release, a life of service. The unfairness I had felt earlier began to soften, ground down by the bars digging into my side. If this discomfort was only the beginning, maybe compliance was easier than rebellion.

In the dark, I inhaled the lingering scent of her foot on my face. My cock swelled uselessly in its prison, and I realized with a mix of dread and reluctant excitement that a small part of me already wanted to prove myself worthy of her new rules.

Sleep never came. Only the steady hum of the water heater and the slow erosion of my resistance.