The glow from my phone screen was the only light in my dim room, my heart still hammering from last night. His final words were burned into my mind. I want to watch. A shiver, equal parts fear and desperate want, ran through me. I’d barely opened my eyes before my hand was scrambling for the device, thirsty for more.
A new message notification glowed. Master Ansh. My breath hitched.
Ansh: Good morning, my eager little slut. I trust you slept well, dreaming of my voice.
Me: Yes, Master. I did.
Ansh: We’re moving beyond simple stroking today, Dhruv. If you are to be my online submissive, you will live by my rules. You will learn my will is your pleasure. Do you understand?
My fingers trembled as I typed. Yes, Master. I understand completely.
Ansh: Your rules are as follows. One: You will address me as Master or Sir at all times. Two: You will not orgasm without my express permission. Three: You will complete all tasks I set for you without complaint or delay. Four: Your body belongs to me to command. Your pleasure is mine to give, and mine to deny. Do you accept these terms?
The words were a chain, locking around my wrists, my throat, my aching cock. It was the most terrifying and exhilarating thing I’d ever read. I accept, Master. My body is yours.
Ansh: Good boy. Your first day of training begins now. I have a list of ten tasks for you to complete and document for me by this evening. They are designed to test your obedience, your willingness to degrade yourself for my amusement, and your capacity to take your pleasure from my command alone.
A list appeared, each line a fresh jolt of electricity.
1. CBT: Five minutes of controlled ball slaps. Hard. I want to see the sting on your skin.
2. Toilet Duty: You will get on your knees and lick the outside of your clean, personal toilet bowl. Taste the porcelain for me.
3. Animalistic Pose: You will get on all fours, arch your back, and stick your tongue out like the good dog you are. Hold for three minutes.
4. Marking: Use a clothes peg to clamp your right nipple. Keep it on for ten minutes.
5. Presentation: Spread your ass cheeks wide and take a clear picture for me. I want to see your most private hole.
6. Edging: You will stroke your cock to the edge of orgasm three separate times. You will not cum.
7. Water Sports: If you need to piss, you will do it in the shower, on all fours, like the animal you are becoming.
8. Denial: After your third edge, you will put your pants back on and go about your day with your cock straining, desperate for a touch you cannot have.
9. Vocal Submission: You will record a voice note begging me to use your mouth.
10. Reflection: You will write one hundred words on how this makes you feel. Your honest, filthy thoughts.
I stared, my mouth going dry. This was… intense. Real. My cock, however, was already leaking onto my stomach, twitching at the sheer filth of it all.
Ansh: These are your limits, Dhruv. Hard rules. Do any of these tasks cross a line for you? Your honesty is not a sign of weakness; it is a requirement for my trust.
I read them again. The toilet one made my stomach clench, but the thought of disobeying him, of disappointing him, was a thousand times worse. This was what I’d asked for. This was the exploration I craved. The degradation was the point. The filth was the gift.
Me: No, Master. No limits. They… they excite me. I want to be your filthy boy. I want to do all of it for you.
Ansh: That’s my good fucking whore. I knew you had it in you. A pretty college boy with a secret need to be used. I’m going to enjoy peeling away every layer of your pride. Begin. Now. Send me the evidence as you complete each task. I’ll be watching.
The command was absolute. I pushed myself off the bed, my legs shaky. The first task. CBT. I stood naked before my full-length mirror, my reflection looking small and vulnerable. I raised my hand, my palm open.
For him, I thought. This is all for him.
I brought my hand down in a sharp slap against my sac. A grunt punched out of me, a sharp, shocking pain blossoming deep in my gut. Fuck. I did it again, harder this time, the sound cracking in the silent room. My eyes watered, but a perverse thrill shot through me. I was doing it. I was following his order. I started counting, each slap a dedicated, painful offering to him.
After the fifth brutal impact, I grabbed my phone, my hand trembling. I took a picture, the reddened, tender skin evidence of my obedience. I sent it without a caption.
The reply was instant. Ansh: Beautiful. Look at that pretty skin turning colors for me. You wear my command well. Now, the toilet.
I slid to my knees on the cold bathroom tiles. The bowl was clean, but the idea was so profoundly degrading. I lowered my head, my heart hammering against my ribs. I stuck my tongue out, closing my eyes, and ran the flat of it along the cool, curved porcelain. The taste was sterile, clean, but the act was filthy. I was licking a toilet for a man I’d never met. A moan escaped me, my cock dripping onto the floor. I took the picture, my tongue still pressed against the white ceramic.
Ansh: Such a devoted cocksucker already. You were born to be on your knees, weren’t you? A natural fucking toilet-licking slut. Now, show me your dog pose.
I scrambled to my bedroom, getting on all fours. I arched my back, pushing my ass up into the air, and let my tongue loll out of my mouth. I felt ridiculous. Exposed. Perfect. I held the pose, my muscles burning, my submission on full display. The timer on my phone ticked down. I took the picture.
The clothes peg was next. I fumbled with it, my fingers clumsy. I pinched my nipple, pulling it taut, and clipped the peg on. A sharp, biting pain clamped down, so intense it made me gasp. It was a constant, nagging reminder of his control. I took a picture of my chest, the wooden peg looking cruel and perfect on my sensitive flesh.
The next command made my throat tighten. Ansh: Now, present that ass to me, Dhruv. I want to see the hole I own.
I obeyed, bending over, reaching back with both hands to spread myself open for his unseen eyes. The cool air hit my most intimate place. I felt a wave of hot shame, and my cock throbbed painfully against my stomach. The camera clicked.
His message came through as a voice note this time. I pressed play, his voice a low, commanding growl in my ear. “Look at that. A perfect, pink hole begging to be used. Begging for my cock. You’re going to think about this picture all day, aren’t you? Think about my dick stretching that tight little slutty opening while you try to study. You’re doing so well, my filthy boy. Now, make that pretty cock weep for me. Edge for me. Get right to the brink and stop. Your permission to cum is a long way off.”
I collapsed onto the floor, my body humming with pain and need. I wrapped my hand around my aching, neglected dick, already slick with pre-cum. I started to stroke, his voice echoing in my head.
“That’s it, you fucking desperate slut. Work that dick for me. Get close. I want to hear you beg to stop right before you tip over.”
I was already so close, my hips bucking into my fist. The sensations from the peg on my nipple, the memory of the toilet bowl on my tongue, the sting on my balls—it all fused into a storm of overwhelming submission. The pressure built, a coil winding tighter and tighter in my gut. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, fuck…
And I stopped, my whole body seizing up, a broken, choked sob escaping my lips. The orgasm receded, leaving me trembling and empty. One.
Tears of frustration welled in my eyes. I was so hard it was agony. I looked at the phone, at his icon on the screen.
Me: Master, please… it’s so difficult…
Ansh: I know it is. That’s the point. Do it again.
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