Mistress Janice DeLise settled back, grinning as she watched several of her slaves frantically attempting to demonstrate their compliance with her orders, dancing for her like puppets on invisible strings. The half dozen of them on the video call that she could see were all kneeling, squirming away as they frantically humped their chastity locked dicks or pussys against pillows. A blend of moans, whimpers, groans, and gurgled words drifted from the headphones she wore, and she allowed a pleased grin to flicker across her face.

Janice shifted slightly, eyes flicking to the small mirror she had positioned alongside her chosen place. She was in her late forties, but managed to easily exude a delightfully sensual MILF energy that had intoxicated any number of men and women...encouraging them into all manner of contortions to please her, be they financial, physical or mental. She owned multiple couples, endless streams of young men and women, all of whom found themselves gripped ever tighter by her gradual boa constrictor style approach to control. From initial starting periods of giggly teasing and temporary chastity, and then growing ever longer. Ever more intense. Until those who started their submissive journey became her puppets in truth, under her sway permanently and available at any time.

Like her current servant.

She looked down, past her wetlook black bodysuit and her leather boots, and grinned at the hooded head that she still had clamped between her thighs. The young man in question was technically the owner of the delightful apartment she was currently in, but when she had turned up three days ago and told him she would be staying, he'd had no choice but to submit himself, his place, and his time to her. After all, he was one of her puppets. Her darling chastity bitches who had years ago been sent a lock for his device to which he had no key. No ability to escape save when she visited...which in Harry's case was rather often. There was just something about the way the introverted young man squirmed, and blushed, and was oh so very bashful...and yet the mental contortions she had put him through ensured he was ever so pliable for her plans.

Which at this moment had involved stuffing him into a rubber catsuit, a thick rubber hood, and a very involved straitjacket. It had involved compressing him into a small little ball of fetish attire and bondage, and sticking him underneath her. He had headphones on, giving him the audio from her current multi-slave session, as well as an overlay of her words. A pre-recorded little audio session, made just for him, that delved into his kinks...his fantasies...and reminded him over and over that she was in control. That she had trained him, broken him, made him twist and compress himself through all manner of contortions, ordered him about and manipulated his day to day life like her personal puppet...all to ensure that dear, sweet little Harry was her slave. Mind, body, his very soul.

She reached down absently, running a hand along his hooded head, her voice a sultry murmur as she imagined what she had planned for him in just another hour, "Now then my darlings...as you hump your pillows, as you imagine how I might touch and tease you if I was present...I want you to fantasize...and know that I have a slave with me right now. A slave who gets to feel my touch, feel pleasure at my hand...and to thank me personally for keeping him captive and chaste. A gift that you too might experience...when you become mine."

The chorus of moans which greeted her made her laugh...and grip the rubber hooded Harry, pressing his head with her thighs, listening to his faint moans.

Another few days of service...and then she'd spring the surprise on him.

That when she left to return home...he would be coming with her.