EXTRACT FOR
Mistress Daria Chastity Stories
(Mistress Daria)

Chastity Cage



Another tug on the leash and Pamela dropped to all fours, her head being held up only by that leash. The cord attached to her chastity belt got even tighter. She started following the direction of the tugs, eager to release the pressure from her caged pussy. Hands and knees sinking into plush carpeting below, she had no idea where she was going.



Since her eyes were of no use, Pamela's ears had to become attuned to a much higher degree. The whisper of wood across carpeting's fibre and she knew that a door was being opened. With another tug and Pamela crawled through to the next room. But wait! It was cold stone? Her captor's heels clicking and clacking in front of her. Pamela followed, only to find she was descending a flight of stairs. Only the sounds of haunting classical music playing stopped Pamela from thinking she was outside. She realized she was in some sort of basement , she followed on blindly so, wondering why she was putting herself so far from the outside world. There was little she could do to change anything now even if she had wanted to, which knowingly, she didn't. She realized from the start, that leaving would have never entered her mind. She was captive in a stranger's house, loving every second.



Pamela's captor tugged sharply, halting her. Footsteps walked around to the front of her. A pull on the leash had her lifting her head up and as she did, the tightness of the binding re-established itself in Pamela's pain-filled consciousness. Her pussy aching with merciless desire; she waited, taut as a bowstring, for she knew not what.



A step closer and Pamela's face was buried deep into a warm wet opening, her nostrils filled with that musky womanly scent. Every other thought deserts her as Pamela instinctively focuses on that scent; it is the reason she is who she is. She searches with her tongue for that bud, the one thing she craves above all else. Her face is coated in her scent, her juices covering her mouth, nose and chin as she pays homage to her. Then suddenly, she's gone.



Pamela whimpered at this sudden loss. Tortured and aroused, she jumps as she is commanded to kneel. She rises from her position on all fours, sitting on her heels. She realizes that she can still catch her scent on her face. She inhales, holding this distinctive scent in her mind, knowing she will recognize her now, seen or unseen. She has marked her as her own.



She moves and her wrists are cuffed, the metal clasps clanking behind her. "UP!" Pamela hastily gets to her feet at the barked command. Suddenly, her ankles are kicked wife apart and a spreader bar is attached.



A clinking sound behind Pamela puzzles her, then her footsteps move away and a soft whirring starts. Listening intently Pamela becomes aware that the slack on the chain attached to her wrist cuffs is being taken up slowly. Pamela is forced forwards as her wrists are raised behind her. The whirring stops. She has no choice; either she bends or the chain dislocates her shoulders. Knowing that now she is totally open to her captor, Pamela blushes profusely.



Embarrassed beyond words, Pamela hangs there not daring to contemplate what will happen to her next. She inhales. There! It's her scent again. She must be close! Nerves verging on hysteria, Pamela sobs; her mind beyond terror now, just waiting...



"Now you are mine Pamela" a soft whisper, then she is gone once again.



Silence.



Not a sound.



Footsteps die away.



Pamela hangs there, desolate in her bindings; aware only of being left...