The shaking and rattling woke me up, but I determinedly turned over, ignoring the clanking, rattling and whimpering sounds coming from the foot of the bed. I had 5 minutes longer in my warm comfy bed before my phone alarm kicked in too. I groaned and cracked an eyelid. This, without a doubt was the least favourite part of my day, and point when I started really re-evaluating my life choices. You know, the important ones like; would my boss notice if I didn’t turn up for work, did I really need this job anyway, and that if I got rid of my pet I could have 30 more minutes in bed every morning. Yeah. I reached for my phone and put a note in to punish him severely tonight for making me get out of bed early every morning.

Vindictive was better than sleepy, and it finally gave me the motivation to sit up and kick off the covers. The cage continued to rattle at the bottom of the bed and I kicked it viciously as I passed, padding past it into my bathroom. It stopped rattling for maybe a minute before it started up again, but by that point I was cleaning my teeth and the whine of the electric toothbrush drowned it out. I could watch him in the mirror though, it was angled just right to let me do that.

It looked at first like a fairly standard dog crate, medium sized, until you noticed it was a little more sturdy than normal. Heightwise, the top was level with my mattress, but it was shorter than my bed was wide, maybe a metre in length, if that, the perfect length for my pet’s butt to be jammed up against the bars and for his bare feet to stick through the bottom of the cage, the toes wiggling desperately, if futilely. A pair of handcuffs were snapped tightly around his ankles, preventing him from withdrawing them, and one of my hairties was wrapped firmly over his big toes, holding them tight together and limiting his struggle room even more.

The dark green of his latex suit shimmered beyond, the light from the window falling on his big bubble butt, cross-hatched with the wire bars of the cage. It also drew attention to the white wire snaking from between his arsecheeks and across the floor into the nearby plug socket where the glowing dial of a timer was still visible. From the way his butt was nearly blurring from the vibrations, I guessed the device must be really going for it, and concluded that I must have knocked the switch when I inserted it last night. Served him right though. Waking me up. Listening to his stifled moans and whimpers, I was at least happy how effective the gag was being.

Finished brushing, I spat into the sink and washed it away, before straightening up to check my hair. Yup, not too greasy, I didn’t need to waste time on it this morning. That gave me more time. I sauntered back out of the bathroom and straight past the cage, ignoring the increased commotion from within as I did, although I couldn’t resist the wicked grin at the pleading nasal moans. I turned my back on the cage, grinning to myself, continuing to savour them as I stripped off, the slowly slipped some clean underwear on, giving him the benefit of a little butt wiggle as I did. The despairing groan was better than coffee.

I grinned to myself and finished dressing, before turning back to properly admire my slave. He’d always been faintly chunky, with a big butt and curvy hips, but he had also been a football fan and amateur player (British Football, not the faux rugby for ponces the Americans liked to play), so there was some muscle in there too. I’d kept up the muscle, but put an end to his footballing days – regardless of continent, it was a rubbish sport. The dark emerald latex clung to him from his neck to his ankles, leaving nothing to the imagination. His arms were taped tightly together behind his back with spool upon spool of duct-tape, sealing them into one limb from the wrist to the elbow and forcing him to push his chest forwards to reduce pressure on his arms. I snickered. His shoulders must be burning by now.

His head jutted out the other side of the cage, a U shape of metal wrapping around his neck, stopping him from moving forwards or back. Big brown eyes gazed pleadingly at me from inside the black Gwendoline hood. The hood was also latex and also skin tight, clearly showing the huge volume of packing just about keeping him quiet. Oh yes, my slave had a big mouth.

“How did you sleep Vince?” I asked casually.

Vince moaned, rolling his eyes. I grinned despite myself.

“I slept really well, thank you,” I remarked, then leant forwards, flicking the clasps on the cage.

Vince slammed upwards the moment they were undone, shoving it open and trying to get to his feet before nearly crashing back into the cage, forgetting his legs were still trapped in the back.

“Silly,” I chastised, circling around to behind him.

He sighed as I turned the vibrator off at the wall, and then yelped as I pulled it out, kneeling up in the cage.

“Do you not like your little friend Vince?” I cooed. “The timer was a nice touch, and it made sure you had to wake up before I did, didn’t it?”

Vince spat something unintelligible into the gag, but I got the gist. I slapped his butt, hard.

“Manners.”

I unlocked the handcuffs and Vince slipped his ankles through the holes. 3, 2, 1… Vince leapt to his feet, and then nearly crashed back down as his numb legs quaked beneath him. I watched in amusement, head on one side, as he pelted for the door, turning so that his bare hand could graze the doorknob… He rattled the door desperately, finding it locked. I twirled the key around my finger.

“Looking for this?”

Vince glared at me and I tucked it away in my pocket, picking up the collar and lead from my bedside table.

“We are feeling stubborn today,” I remarked. “Now. Are you going to behave, or are you going to make this fun?”

Vince scowled at me and I felt my grin grow. He was so much more fun when he was stubborn, but he was so going to regret this. I was surprised though when he lowered his head and charged at me, but only momentarily. He’d tried it a couple of times before, and always seemed to forget that it never went well for him. I let him get in close before stepping to one side, grabbing his taped upper arm and viciously swiping his legs out from underneath him with a kick. He hit the deck and I was ontop of him a split second, snapping the collar tightly around his neck, then buckling it a hole tighter so he could really feel it, without the risk of throttling himself. I pinned him firmly, then ran my hands all over him, giving his butt a firm grope as I did, enjoying both the squishy feeling beneath my fingers and the guttural groan from below me. I ground my hips against him, driving his groin into the carpet and laughed at the yelp as I knew he was now painfully aware of the chastity cage that had been his near constant companion since I’d picked him up a few weeks ago.

I reached underneath the bed and pulled out a pair of shoes. If he was going to be feisty, he was going to have to pay the price for it. They were ridiculously high heels, the kind I couldn’t have kept my balance in, probably 10 inch heels with practically no platform underneath the ball of the foot, which forced the foot into an almost perpendicular position… and definitely limited the amount a certain Frenchman would be charging around. Casually turning him over, I turned so that I was facing his feet. There’s only so much fight you can give when you have a sturdily built britishwoman sat on your shins, and before long I’d got him tightly laced into his boots.

“Well, I can’t say it’s my favourite way to start a morning,” I remarked. “But it definitely helped me wake up.”

I clambered up and nudged him with my toe.

“Well get up then,” I commanded.

Vince gave another muffled protest, something about how did I expect him to get up with no arms and 10 inch heels, but I wasn’t buying it. A swift kick soon motivated him to roll over onto his front, push himself back into a kneeling position and then scramble to his feet. He swayed on the high heels, stumbling on them, but eventually found a sort of balance, albeit with bent knees. Normally I didn’t find that look attractive, but… Vince squeaked again as I dealt him another slap to his stuck out butt, and I grinned at his scowl.

I pulled him closer and pulled on the crotch section of his suit, revealing his butt and the aforementioned chastity device, his dick banded with chrome bands, bands that were still making quite the impression on him. I gave him a wicked grin.

“Well, go on then,” I pointed to the bathroom. “Now or never.”

He looked down at the cage and then back up at me. I shrugged.

“It doesn’t stop you weeing, unless you want me to get the urethral plug back out?” I asked coolly.

Muttering darkly, Vince vanished into the bathroom, reappearing grudgingly a few minutes later. He knew from experience that if he procrastinated too long I would come in after him. I clicked the lead onto the front of his collar and led him, stumbling, out of the room. The benefits of living in a ground floor flat was that there weren’t any stairs to negotiate, and I lead him down the hall, past my office and into the open plan kitchen and living room. I pulled him onto the treadmill against the wall, snapping the lead onto a carabiner threaded through an anchor point on the wall and set one of the programmes into play. It was about 15 minutes long and involved different speeds and durations and Vince started to grudgingly trot along the moving belt.

With my pet occupied, I sat myself at the kitchen table and turned the TV on, watching the news while pouring myself a bowl of cereal and topping it with milk.

“Hey look Vince,” I called. “They still haven’t found that missing French artist, although artwork has been appearing on his various accounts and his patreon has never been more subscribed to. In fact, he’s never been more productive, isn’t that interesting?”

Vince’s garbled swearwords made me smile. It was true though, I thought. Vince never had been more popular. He had been an obscure little erotica artist, but with the publicity around his ‘disappearance’ as well as his sudden upswing in productivity, he was experiencing an upswing in both reputation and money. I suppose the fact he wasn’t paying rent, or foodbills or anything else might have had something to do with it too. He had been silly enough to advertise that he had come over to Britain for a ‘drawing break’ to regain his mojo and it hadn’t taken much to locate him, draw him out of his hotel and… the rest was history. I’d done every-one a favour really, it stopped him whining about his lack of inspiration/time to really focus on his artwork. Now he had plenty of both.

The ‘ding’ of a timer drew me back to the present and I put my bowl and spoon in the sink to soak. Vince could clean that up later. What was the point of having a slave and doing the washing up yourself, after all? As I was stood by the sink, I picked up one of the diet shake packets and poured it into a shaker bottle, and then topped it up with the right amount of water. Giving it a vigorous mix, I unhooked Vince from the wall and off the treadmill. I resumed my seat at the table, sitting firmly on the leash to stop him wandering off, and gave him a look.

“Didn’t you want breakfast?” I demanded coolly, giving the shake a final mix.

Vince slowly folded himself down so he was kneeling next to me. I pulled off his hood with a little effort, and Vince appeared, his curly brown hair tousled and his face clearly furious, but contorted out of shape by the immense amount of packing in his mouth and the crushing pressure of the sheer amount of tape covering his mouth to hold it in. He had been particularly mouthy yesterday and there’s only so much whining you can stand – particularly in a French accent.

“Well you shouldn’t have been so gobby last night,” I told him. “I couldn’t risk you disturbing the neighbours, now could I, hmm?”

A few snips of the kitchen scissors sliced through the silver tape, which I efficiently yanked away. It took a bit more teasing to get the rolled up socks out of his mouth, but they did eventually come loose and I threw them into the washing up basket in one corner of the room. Vince glared up at me, licking his sore lips.

“Let me go,” He demanded instantly.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” I announced, flicking open the top of the shake bottle.

“Someone will find me,” Vince snapped defiantly. “And then they’ll UMPH…”

Vince nearly choked as I shoved the neck of the bottle into his mouth and tilted it sharply. Forced to swallow rapidly, his furious eyes blazed over the top at me, making me grin.

“And then they’ll do what? Lock me up, throw away the key?” I demanded in a sickly sweet tone, then snorted. “Grow up. This isn’t some Scooby-Doo cartoon and there are no meddling kids to save you. Why on earth would any-one ever make the link between me and you? No-one saw us together, and the only way we ever communicated was through an encrypted app, and I have your phone. You should be thanking me. You’ve never done so well, and now that I’ve set you up a patreon, you’re practically raking it in. Shame you’ll never get to spend it, but don’t worry. I know what you like.”

Vince growled over the bottle, swallowing the last mouthful. He swallowed, rivulets of pink shake running down his chin. I picked up a table-cloth and wiped his face carefully.

“Speaking of, it’s time to get you back to work – your adoring audience needs some more artwork,” I remarked brightly.

“No.”

I looked down at Vince. He shuffled awkwardly on the floor, cheeks blushing slightly, but his eyes deadly serious.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m not going to do anymore artwork,” Vince said firmly. “I’m not going to draw for you anymore.”

I blinked slowly, considering.

“If you’re holding me to make money from me,” Vince continued. “Then I’m not going to make money for you anymore.”

“So then I’ll let you go?” I demanded. “Vince. I didn’t kidnap you to make money off your art, it was just a nice side-benefit. I just like watching you all wrapped up in latex and wriggling at my mercy… but… there are other ways of making money from you, if you think that’s all I care about.”

A slow evil smile crossed my face. I wrapped the lead tightly around my hand and stood up, yanking him to his feet. I dragged him out of the kitchen and down the hallway and into my office. Vince stumbled along behind me, but I didn’t let up until I reached my office. Unlocking the door, I pulled him inside. Vince had been inside this room plenty of times – every day in-fact. Normally I sat him in the chair infront of the desk, roped him to it with only his right hand free; a stylus duct-taped into it, one loop of a handcuff snapped around his wrist, and the other locked into the eyebolt on the desk-top so he could draw into the tablet set infront of him.

He was therefore surprised when I hustled him past it. There was a corner that was curtained off and I pulled it back to reveal a sight very much out of keeping of the rest of the room. The corner was bare plaster and board, and in the centre was a bondage horse, a sturdy thing that was bolted to the floor. Vince froze, but I was ready. Seizing him around the middle, I threw him over the horse and then pulled him into a sitting position. It was so tall that his feet couldn’t actually reach the ground, even in their heels, and before long I had his legs bent back on themselves so his ankles were strapped to the horse. Slipping straps around his legs, I further sealed his thighs to his shins, leaving his knees wiggling helplessly feet from the floor.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Vince asked, and I could definitely hear nerves in his voice.

“Giving you a day off writing,” I assured him cheerfully. “As requested.”

I caught him by the waist and pulled him back on the horse so he was in the right position. Vince yelled as he felt something press against his rectum, and then a plug slid inside him, anchoring him firmly onto the horse. He struggled, only to seat himself more firmly on the horse. I grinned, enjoying the view, then checked my watch. Damn it, any more of this and I’d be late for work. I snagged a hood from nearby and hoisted myself onto the seat behind him, slipping the hood firmly over Vince’s head. This wasn’t a nice Gwendoline hood, it was a black leather hood with no holes for the eyes or ears. There was, however a big hole over the mouth, and this I slipped a thick plug gag into, locking it tight into place.

“MHMMPH!” Vince squealed behind the gag as I patted his thigh.

I paused, then slowly ran my hand up the inside of his splayed thighs, and despite himself, he moaned, pressing into my touch. I could feel him, rock hard inside his chastity cage, but that was his problem… I looked up at the camera in the corner of the room, angled to get the best view of him. I pulled away the section over his crotch again, this time fully exposing it, so the camera could see his trapped cock and his current state of arousal. I sighed slightly, looking at his taped up arms. I wished I had more time to do something more pretty with it. It only mattered to me, no-one else could see it from the angle the camera was set at, but it still grieved me a little. He peered around blindly and I slipped off the horse.

“You see, like it or not, you will make me money,” I assured him, picking up another spool of duct tape in emerald green. “I don’t suppose you spotted the camera mounted on the wall opposite you? Well, you might not have seen it, but it can see you, and so will all the other people around the globe when I begin filming. Pay per view, of course.”

I carefully wrapped the tape around his hands, going around and around until they were sealed into a useless sphere, and then working up over the silver tape to make a pretty spiral pattern. More comfortable, I nodded to myself and put the tape down, then stepped out of the camera’s line of sight to tap away at the laptop hooked up to it. It took me a few tries to remember my password for the site, but I was soon on and ready to broadcast. The layout of the website had changed a bit – I hadn’t done this since my bondage-mad mate had got his new job in the US, but boy was I glad I hadn’t taken any of this down.

“By the way, that horse you’re sat on?” I continued conversationally. “It’s rigged to vibrate. My mate who was an engineer helped me put it together, and experiment with it until I got it right. There’s some vibrators under the fabric under your balls, and more in the plug in your butt. The more people like and comment, the crazier they will go. I’m sorry I couldn’t give them a better show, but I’m late for work. I’ll be back around lunchtime, and then we can see which way you’d rather earn me money, eh?”

Happy that the camera was broadcasting, I tugged the curtain firmly in place to obscure the rest of the room.

“See you later darling,” I cooed.

I heard the horse begin to vibrate, and then I heard the muffled whimpers as Vince tried to throw himself off the horse. Cackling to myself, I locked the office door behind me and picked up my handbag, before slipping on my shoes and heading out the front door. Yup, I was going to be at least 5 minutes late for work. I made a note on my phone to punish him for that too later. Maybe I’d even do it on camera if he was still insistent his art days were behind him…