The Lovers – By Katia Thornwood. Part 1.

I have an affinity to beautiful birds. I like that the males have such extravagant plumage. And yet there is more that draws me to them.

Consider this. The cage, for most of us a symbol of constrained freedom, for birds is something more. I have opened the door of a cage and watched as they escape and find freedom. Can you imagine that moment, a loved pet fleeing to freedom through the opened cage door. A moment of panic, and then they are gone through an open window. All that fondness and happy memories gone in a flutter of wings.

And two hours later, as I look at the cage, there he is once more. Silently returning to his captivity. A warm sensation of relief in my tummy. Yet, itā€™s more than relief. Itā€™s a sense of rewarded trust, for I left that door open quite willingly.

I trusted.  And arenā€™t all good relationships based on trust?

Well, this is a story of trust. I think you will enjoy it. Perhaps so much so that you will play along with me. I will ask you to make this an interactive story.

Thatā€™s right, you can join in.  I wonder if you dare. Well, thereā€™s the opportunity for me to trust youā€¦ Letā€™s see how you do. Are you ready to play? I hope youā€™ll feel inclined to use the comments section in this post to let me know.

Mistress Katia Thornwood.

The Lovers ā€“ By Katia Thornwood.

Those of you who have been following me for a while know about Paulo, the sentimental poet, who got a little too lost in the compelling world of his Mistress. I am, as you know, all about balancing extremes, and so you can imagine my delight when the sorry little fellow finally got himself a girlfriend – Fern. An actual woman.

And it wasnā€™t his usual thing. Worshiping some completely unattainable woman from afar, and languishing in his own pathetically amusing pain. Such a typical poet. Itā€™s a pity he has so much of the poetā€™s nature and so little of the poetā€™s talent. Not to worry though, his role is to suffer. Regardless, Fern is a real flesh and blood woman.

Fern is five years younger than Paulo. Petite and freckled with red hair and a childlike voice, she almost reminds me of a character from a childrenā€™s fairy tale. Sheā€™s incredibly sweet, and moreover, very open to Pauloā€™s established relationship with me. Especially because his being so frequently caged has created some very impressive oral talents, which sheā€™s thanked me for, through him. And so of course, I told him one afternoon – ā€œBring her along to meet me sometime – it will be fun. If you feel like it.ā€

Paulo, usually so compliant, initially blanched at the suggestion. But after a little encouragement, he finally bought her along with him. The encouragement was that he could be uncaged for a whole week. I have the poor dolt in chastity for my amusement most of the time and he complies readily enough. Usually I give him periodic relief on a random timer. No more than three minutes, and Fern has to be satisfied first, so he practically never gets to enjoy communion with her. He was fully aware of the weight of the gift I was offering to bestow on him. You might say he had no choice but to comply.

He certainly felt that way. Itā€™s funny, isnā€™t it. I dangle the prospect of freedom before him and he will do anything to comply. Itā€™s amusing to me, and I love to tease him with it. Iā€™ll often find what he thinks is his key, as I give him a little of what he painfully desires. Allowing him to watch me as I use a toy and give myself a little amusement, his gaze drinking in the curves and reflections of my body, moist on my fingers, and me putting a key nearby. Of course, itā€™s never his key. He really has no idea though.

But, the way he was watching us as I embraced Fern that afternoon – youā€™d think I was planning to steal her! Well. She was pretty. But I have many useless pretty things already, so he could keep her. That said, now heā€™d bought me an offering, I fully intended to partake in it, just a little. Yes, heā€™d brought Fern, an offering for me to amuse myself with. Poor Fern may not have seen it as such, but to be honest as pretty as she is, sheā€™s not going to win any prizes for natural intellect. Sweet but dumb as a brush.

ā€œIā€™d like to have a word with you, Fern – in private, if you donā€™t mind.ā€

She giggled and Paulo looked incredibly worried. Taking her hand, I led her out of the room, shutting the door of the dungeon on Paulo. Iā€™d let his vivid imagination take over my usual disciplining while we were gone. For there is no torment more severe than an artist left alone with their mind. No wonder they are so tortured. They do it to themselves.

ā€œWhat is it, Katia?ā€ she giggled, sitting on the sofa in my private study.

I asked her what she thought of Paulo spending so much time in the cage. She said she didnā€™t mind, in fact he was very good at the other stuff, so she almost didnā€™t miss it. But she said on occasion she felt bad about his discomfort.

I told her not to feel bad, because he enjoyed it. Her expression grew cynical, or what passed for it in that empty head of hers.

ā€œNo, really,ā€ I insisted, taking her by the hand. ā€œIf you experienced it yourself, you’d understand.ā€

“But I don’t have a…” her voice trailed off in embarrassment.

Fern blushed. I am a sucker for that. She looked at her feet and swayed, so I took her chin in my hand and lifted her face so she could meet my gaze, and – sometimes I am told – my slightly intimidating smile. I moved my face closer to her soft and innocent reddened cheek. I wondered for a moment, how might that soft cheek look with semen and saliva dribbling from it. But ā€˜noā€™, she wasnā€™t ready for such adventures. Yet.

“A penis, Fern?ā€ I said.  ā€œNo need to be shy, sweetie. You can speak freely with me. Did you know they make a modified form of the cage for women too?”

Fern shrugged. She was blushing again. I stroked her arm and leaned forward, brushing her ear with my lips,  my fingers still resting on her delegate forearm.

ā€œSay – it’s a crazy idea but would you, by chance, like to try one on? A chastity belt, I mean. I think I have a spare one around here somewhere that would fit. Nice and shiny. Bigger than Pauloā€™s too, but I imagine – and forgive me if Iā€™m taking liberties here – youā€™ve had bigger than Pauloā€™s before…ā€

Fern didnā€™t disagree too quickly. Well. Hardly surprising. Thatā€™s why he comes to me, of course. Silly boy.

ā€œCould Iā€¦?ā€ She sounded hesitant, but excited. ā€œJust to look at.ā€

ā€œOf course. What better way to empathize with dear Pauloā€™s plight?ā€

ā€œAh yes.ā€ She sighed. ā€œDear Paulo…ā€

She smiled coquettishly as I took her hand and walked her down the hall to my lockbox. I could almost hear Pauloā€™s internal anguish screaming in my mind as we walked. What a pleasant soundtrack to imagine. Heels on the tiled floor.

Her soft little hand rested in mine, and while so much shorter than I, she seemed to fall in quite naturally beside me. A little like a well trained little dog.  I wondered what tricks I might teach the little bitch.

I want you to enjoy this story very much.  Iā€™m pleased to say there is an interactive aspect to this story. Yes, you can participate, as youā€™ll see if you continue to read it.

A little favor. I think you’d like to do that for me, wouldn’t you? Of course you would. Iā€™d like you to consider buying a chastity device.  You can do so here – https://amzn.to/3qArvBH.

What a good boy you are.

Mistress Katia Thornwood.

Find the next episode here.

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