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It was Thursday. Almost Friday. Almost the day. The day Mistress was coming home and would be spending the entire weekend with her pet, her toy, her servant.

Me, to be blunt about it. I was plenty excited just to have her around and be near her. It's a profoundly pleasant experience, though it might not always show up that way. There's some rough spots. She makes there be rough spots for me. A particular rough spot was the other reason I was excited. She had my key and oh, I was needing it.

Part of me knew, even before she came back, that things weren't going to go my way, but there was a chance she might be kind and merciful, so I had hope. Hope's a dangerous thing.

I checked my phone when I got out of work, just to remind myself of the number. That was a bit of masochism she would never have required of me. Sixty-two days, eighteen hours, thirty-seven minutes. That's how long I'd been locked up. It had been much long since my last orgasm, but I hadn't thought to set a timer for that, at the time. At least six months.

Mistress had a thing about her pets. There were three of us, though we rarely met in person. Lots of online chatter. "Orgasms are for other people," she'd say. "You give lots of them, but they're not for you to have." We were strongly encouraged to have hookups, occupy glory holes, and things like that. The two of us who couldn't manage orgasms from anal sex were also encouraged to make that particular hole available for use by anyone interested. Ivory was only allowed to use his mouth and hands.

The thing was, any of us could have cheated. We each had a key for our various devices, but that would end the game. Mistress was very clear on that. It was ultimately our choice to remain locked up and frustrated and denied.

"You're doing this to yourself, you know." She was early! I turned to see her on the train behind me. Given the height difference, it was an eye-to-tits kind of thing, but I knew to get down quickly so we could be a proper pair. She was a tiny thing, really, a cute little chubby chipmunk, and all her power over me, over us, was in her voice and her mannerism, not physical strength.

I sat, and she sat in my lap, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and kissed my cheek. "I love it when you wind yourself up for me like this. I barely have to do any work to make you squirm. I know you're still locked up, you know it, and you're really hoping to be able to hit stop on that timer, aren't you?" I nodded. "Well, what do your numbers look like since last time?"

I paused, both to get my response straight and to glance around and see if anyone was obviously listening. No one seemed to be. "I've sucked seven dicks, eaten twelve pussies, gotten plowed in the rear four times, tit-fucked eight, and given six hand jobs."

"That's a busy girl! But no footjobs? Couldn't find anyone who wanted to play with those pretty feet?" Half a joke, she knew how much I disliked getting my feet messy. But she'd also be extra proud of me if I got over that and did it anyway. Tough choice.

"I didn't, but I also wasn't really looking for that. I found lots to keep me busy."

"You did! I'm so proud of you. That's up four from last time, too. Do you have anything you need to pick up from your place? I know you weren't expecting me just yet, any last minute things you were planning on taking care of?"

I shook my head. "No Mistress. I do still have work tomorrow, but only about three hours to finish up a thing. Aside from that, I'm all yours until Monday afternoon."

"Goody! I was hoping so. We've got a different direction to go, another train to catch, then. I got a place pretty high up in Auraque for a couple of months, a friend of a friend of a friend, you know how that works, no?"

I did, there was a weird web of favors and relationships and exchanges that connected just about everyone somehow. And if you told your friend that you were looking for a place to stay in Boston, and they happened to have a friend whose brother was going on a long trip, and didn't want to leave his apartment halfway up Auraque Arcology mothballed for fourteen weeks, well, how convenient.

It wasn't quite that kind of thing, exactly, as it turned out. It wasn't really an apartment, more of a communally owned, stocked, and maintained BDSM playground that took up several thousand square feet in one of the tower spires. It wasn't completely unoccupied, but one of the bed and bath suites was ours for however long she wanted. The bedroom was actually pretty tame, aside from the various eye-bolts and such on the bed to make sure no subs were going to accidentally fall out of bed in the night. Or something like that.

It was a pretty nice place, with the suites at the core of the space, and lots of windows along two of the walls. Wide open play spaces could be screened for privacy if desired, though knowing Mistress, I was going to be on display a lot. And open for use, too, she had introduced me to a couple of guys who were on the "please invite yourself to use her if I'm not" list already.

"So, sweetie, I know you've been locked up forever and you're eager to get out, but that won't be until after work tomorrow. For tonight we're just gonna relax and you're gonna fill me in on what a good slut you've been for the last two months. And by us relaxing, I mean me, there's a pillory with your name on it and some guys who are going to really enjoy your ass while you tell me dirty stories to masturbate to."

I had to get a cold pack to sit on for work the next day. My ass was sore! I hadn't really tried to count guys, but there were at least three. Might have been a fourth, or one of them had come back around for a second round. Any way you look at it, I was wearing a plug to keep from making a mess, and my butt hurt. Fortunately, I only had a few hours to finish up, and the ache inspired me to keep focused and not get distracted.

Finished up in two hours what I'd expected to take three, and hobbled out to the bus. Back to Auraque, elevator up, palm on the door scanner, and back into the world of debauchery and delight. Which mostly involved getting back to our room so that I could take my clothes off and lay down on my stomach for a bit. Mistress even let me relax for a while, just laid there with her head in the small of my back for a bit.

That was a nice thing. Our relationship was twenty-four-seven, but we didn't have to be "on" all the time with each other. The ability to be together without having to be active about it or intense was really important for bonding and comfort. So she read a book while I napped a little bit. She pulled me out of it with a gentle tug on my hair.

"Hey, feeling better? I bet you're excited to get out of chastity. I'm ready, too. Wanna get set up?"

I nodded of course, there was no way I was going to say no! So she led me out to the main space and started getting everything together. I had kind of been expecting this. I was going to get unlocked, but there would be other elements. Nothing was ever simple and easy, and honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way.

Big wooden post on a platform, and she didn't waste any time. Leather cuffs on my wrists, rope to the eye bolt at the top of the post. I had plenty of mobility, but I couldn't get my wrists down further than the top of my head. Limited ability to actually do anything. Leather ankle cuffs, too, and rope to the corners of the platform. I could stand pretty comfortably, or lean against the post and have some more freedom of movement on my legs. I wouldn't be able to close them, but that was predictable enough.

"There we go. Now my darling girl won't get herself in trouble by touching herself when she's unlocked." That had been well over two months, too. There was a strong longing. I knew she'd probably let me if I asked very nicely, but much like using my key, that would be an end to the game. Obedience was about the challenge, if it was easy, anyone could do it.

So I was standing there bare assed, tied to the post and standing wide. There were already a couple of people standing around to watch. One thing kinksters have is a radar for a good show, and Mistress obviously intended to make a performance of it.

"Alright, my friends and fellows. My sweet babe here has been locked up for just over two months, and orgasm-free for over six. I'm going to unlock her here in a second or two, but first I want to get a feel for what my audience wants to see. I know what I want to do to her, and of course as her Mistress, I'm the one in charge. And she doesn't get a say," she paused to curl fingers under my chin, "and she'll stay quiet and let her betters decide what happens to her."

Not exactly phrased like an order, but it was one. She kept stroking under my chin while they talked. The general consensus was that everyone wanted her to be very, very mean to me. One dissenting voice, but it sounded like his want was to fuck me, so Mistress didn't give him much mind.

"Okay, sounds like I know exactly what to do to my poor darling slut. She's going to be very upset with you all, but if she's very, very, very good she'll get to get off." Yeah, that was what I'd been expecting, really. The odds were very good that I'd be getting locked up again without getting off. But first she had to unlock me, and that was everything I'd been hoping it would be.

Chastity plugs are a weird device. The internal component is sort of like a butt plug. Narrow neck, and then a bit further in that expands pretty wide when the key is turned. Wide enough that pulling the thing out is difficult. Not impossible, but really uncomfortable without a lot of patience. And then there was a plate on the front that completely covered my vulva, with a bit of gap for cleaning. And to keep touching the plate, however roughly, from translating into actual pleasure. I could still probably get off if I tried hard enough with a strong enough vibrator, but there was some very clever mounting at work that insulated against that, so there was doubt to that.

Mistress turned the key, and the plate detached. Then she turned the key the other way, and the plug shrank enough to take out easily. It felt really good to feel air on my nethers for the first time in months. And tender touches, delicate fingers. When she wanted to be nice, she could be very, very nice.

And when she wanted to be mean, she could be very, very mean, too. I had no warning before she slapped me on the mons. I yelped, my knees buckled, and my weight fell on my wrists for a moment before I could steady myself. It hurt! Bits of me that hadn't felt any touch more interesting than running water were poorly positioned to endure much pain.

She soothed the sting with gentler rubbing, then extended the rubbing up to my belly. "You're probably going to wish that I'd lock you up again right now before I'm done with you." That didn't sound good.

"I'm going to say this loud enough for all of you, but it's really only relevant for her." Gleeful malice in her voice. Mostly glee, but there was a diabolic thread hiding in there. "My sweet pet is going to lock her knees and stand straight. If she can take everything I've got to give her without closing her legs to cover herself against what will, frankly, be torture, then not only will she get to cum, but I won't lock her back up for the rest of my stay and she can have fun with that freedom."

That was a hell of a carrot she was dangling in front of me. But I knew that she was going to make me earn it, and was probably going to do everything she could to make sure she didn't have to make good on the offer. Fine. So be it, it would be a battle of wills. I didn't like my odds, but I wasn't going to cave.

"You get one chance for mercy, my sweet," she continued. "You can beg me right now to lock you back up, and I will. I'll put your plug back in, lock you back up, and we can do all the nice, cuddly stuff there's time for. But it's going to be another two months and change before you get another chance."

It was tempting. But I shook my head. "Give me your worst, Mistress. I don't know if I can take it, but I will damn well try."

"That's my girl! You're gonna make me so proud when you fail!"

At least we both had the same expectation for how it was going to go.

Which made it much more disorienting when she didn't actually do anything to start with. Little touches, lots of comfortable, relaxed rubbing and contact. I knew what she was doing, winding me up, warming me up. I needed a little help getting into the right headspace with an audience watching. That it was warm enough to really relax was very good; that she just kept touching and caressing was even better.

There was no real need to track time, she hadn't set an actual time limit for this scenario, so I couldn't count the seconds to know how long I had to hold out. My awareness of the audience had faded too. Maybe they were quiet, maybe they had gone, maybe my mind had written them out as unimportant. Maybe Mistress was using a quiet box to mute sound coming in from more than a few paces away. Didn't matter. She knew what got me, and there was just the two of us right now.

"Lock those knees, sweetheart." That was all the warning I got. Just a couple of seconds to get my knees straight, to tense up, before things started to go really, really wrong. Well, wrong for me. Mistress was probably plenty happy with my reactions.

It had to be fucking needles. She used sterile packs, not just because of safety, but the different sizes had different plastic caps, different colors. Easy to see. And I could feel the pressure, pinch, give, slide, and the exit a few centimeters further. Over and over, those thin little needles piercing the skin on the insides of my thighs. Back and forth, back and forth, marching slowly upward. Some of them accompanied by a slow, hot trail of blood, a drop or two that welled and ran. She let it go, not concerned about small things like a few drops.

She finished the first pair of tracks, a neat eight inches of quarter-inch spaced needles on both inner sides of my thighs. I didn't really expect her to stop there, and of course she didn't. "How's my sweet girl holding up? I can see those tears trying. You don't have to hold them back." I didn't reply. Mostly because I wasn't sure my voice would hold steady and for some reason showing that I was crumbling would make it harder to fight on.

She waited for me to reply, then smiled gently up at me. "Such a proud girl. Fight, sweetheart, you're doing so well." It was going to get worse, obviously, but I was trying to be prepared, trying to be proud and brave. The outside of my thighs, one at a time, with vertical pokes. Each needle went down, a shallow bite, then a second shallow bite further on. They were long ones, too, and I felt something else sliding along under the pricks of pain. Ribbon, as it turned out, though she didn't put any tension on it, just made a neat little lacing in scarlet silk on each thigh.

My legs were trembling when she got done, and the tears were flowing in little scalding drops. I hadn't sobbed yet, but it hurt, it hurt, and knowing that she wasn't done was the worst. Not knowing where it was going to hurt next was also terrible. I had to talk, though, and my voice was... rough. Even kept quiet, I could hear the rawness in it, and doubtless so could she.

"Mistress c-can I take a moment to flex my legs? I promise I'm not trying to cover, I just don't want to pass out." I really, really wanted to pass out, because then it would be over, but pride and stubbornness said no, said fight as long and as hard as you can.

"Go ahead, sweety, I need to get this next set ready. It's going to hurt so, so much more, they're a much heavier gauge. They're also getting some light tension."

I nodded. She was warning me ahead of time, which was unusual. And scary. She probably just wanted me to worry more about what was happening next. Which I did. The needles already in me had dulled down to a steady throb, pulsing with my admittedly rapid heartbeat.

"Okay sugar. Straight knees again." She was behind me, waited until I locked my knees, then went back to work. Vertical needles again. but thicker. God they hurt! More blood, too, and she was working her way up my back. Ribbon again, just taking her sweet time while I cried. Soft crying, I was fighting back those sobs as hard as I could. I leaned against the post, letting it take some of my weight, because I was rapidly losing the strength to fight.

And I howled and sobbed when she pulled the ribbon taught, pulling every one of those needles. I pleaded with her to stop, to take them out, but she ignored me. Because I had not broken yet, because my knees were locked and my legs still spread.

It got so much worse.

She sat down, wiggled a little bit to get between my legs, then set her back against the post, smiling up at me. It was a gentle smile, happy and proud, a sharp contrast to the pain she was inflicting without a second thought.

She showed me the fine needle in one hand, and the fishing line in the other and I shook my head. Wordless begging, crying, sobbing. But my knees stayed straight.

And it got worse.

Labia piercings are not, as I've been informed, all that terrible. There are worse spots to embed a stud or ring. But none of that assumed that the subject had been tied to a post for what felt like hours, and hurt and hurt and hurt until she was an empty, shaking, begging wreck. And none of that assumed that it was more than just a needle.

And she just hummed a merry tune while I sobbed, hummed her little tune as she sewed me up, a nice, neat little ladder stitch that latticed my slit, then, with a scream that buckled me, pulled the laces taut and tied a neat little bow.

I had broken, too much pain, too little rest, and I was out of strength. Just hung from the chain on my wrists until she got up, got her weight under mine and lifted to take the tension off while I sobbed into her shoulder and begged her for mercy.

"You failed. As we knew you would," she whispered, for me alone, "and I will not alter the terms. I won't give you another chance to earn a month of pleasured freedom. But I can give you a little, because you held up so well, and you took it and took it until you couldn't take any more. I'm so proud of you, pet. Now stand up. You have to take your own weight so I can untie you. I'm going to keep your hands up so you don't do yourself harm trying to get the needles out, but we're going to get you a seat."

I stood, trembling and worn, and she undid my ankles, then helped me turn around and sit on a stool. "Keep your legs apart so you don't mess with the needles in your thighs, there's a good girl." I did, sitting with my knees wide apart. Everything hurt, still, and I was crying softly. "There we go. Now if you want to earn a little reprieve, there's a condition. I will give you one hour of unlocked time for every needle, if you cum with your pussy tied shut like this."

It had been so damn long, I was pretty sure it would only take a few minutes with a vibrator to do the job. If I could get past the pain. If I could hold the vibrator in shaking hands. But there were dozens of needles in me. That was days, maybe a week or more, without chastity. It was worth a try.

I nodded, and she grinned and held out her hand. Someone handed her a wand vibrator, cordless, blinking the blue light of a full charge. "Can I trust you with your hands free?"

I took a deep breath and nodded. I wanted to take the needles all out in a hurry, but knew I was shaking too badly to do it safe, and the lure of freedom was strong enough to resist temptation. I rubbed my wrists when she uncuffed me, then took the toy in unsteady hands. It came to life when I thumbed the control, and I almost dropped it.

Mistress leaned in closer. "Easy, love. You don't have to do this. It's probably going to hurt a lot to try." I shook my head. "Going to try anyway? So brave, my pet, so proud. Okay. Do you need me to help steady you?" That one I nodded for, and she slipped behind me and put a hand on my belly, another one gently holding mine, helping guide the toy.

Gently across my mons, and I almost dropped it again. Pain, sharp and hot, when the line laced through my labia caught the vibration. "I told you it would hurt, sweetheart." I sobbed, and moved the toy higher, trying to come down from the top and find a spot to get the vibrations to play nice without catching the fishing line. It sort of worked. I was able to find a position that let me get more pleasure than pain, and rode from there.

Moving my hips hurt, but there wasn't much choice, when I get close they move on their own, and I was getting really, really close. Ragged breathing, I could feel everything tensing up nicely, and Mistress slipped behind me, put hands on my breasts and just kind of kneaded and massaged. She was helping. Helping!

Her help probably meant her permission, and that little extra bit of certainty and safety was enough to let me go over the edge. And it was a good one, maybe too shadowed with pain and exhaustion to be really great, but after six months it was a relief. And it got applause, from the audience I'd largely forgotten about.

I felt her hands touch mine, felt her turn the toy off and carefully pull it away. "Oh my sweet, I bet that felt so good. And hurt so much. You've cried so much for me tonight, I bet you're very tired." And I was. Really worn out. She started taking needles out, one by one, carefully and slow, but batted at my fingers whenever I tried to help. So many needles. I hadn't counted them going in and I couldn't handle trying to track them coming out.

I just leaned on her while she took them out, while she held me. The ones on my back, and I hissed at the sting of antiseptic before a blanket got draped over my shoulders. Then my thighs. Slow and careful work until all that was left was the fishing line stitched through my vulva. Which she didn't touch.

"Up, my sweet. You need rest, and sleep, and time to heal and recover."

"But what about-"

"Shh. No buts, my love, come on."

Walking was... incredibly difficult. Every step was painful, every movement of thighs, and I was, as she'd pointed out, completely bushed. She helped me along to our room, helped me sit, then lay down, then shushed me again when I tried to bring up the laces.

"I know they hurt, sweetheart. But they won't hurt you in your sleep, and I want you to give them a try. No more plug and plate for five days. I promised. And I will add another day to that for every hour you don't ask me to untie you. Okay?"

I was simply too tired to argue. I crashed almost as soon as I hit the pillow.

After a couple of days with the fishing line, we talked, and decided to, uh... upgrade my chastity. If I were to give you a peek, there's fourteen little eyelets pierced through my labia, laced together with a chain, and locked tight. Of course I have a key, but that's the challenge, isn't it?

So, wanna see?