Why does a man willingly subject himself to the abuses of a woman? Why does he allow himself to be taken advantage of, to be used and abused, to be beaten, humiliated and stripped of his worth? The answer is really quite simple when the man in question is a geek, and the woman in question is Domina Britt. Domina Britt is a stunning, haughty, and thoroughly cruel Goddess who knows how to best exploit a pathetic geek' s weaknesses. And for the geek, the only thing worse than suffering such abuses, is when he is not suffering. It's really such a cruel twist of fate, a double edge sword. And so, the only thing a geek like myself can look forward to is the day when such a Goddess allows him into her presence for the degradation and place him more securely under her thumb.

Yes, that day finally arrived. I was once again permitted in the presence of my Goddess to assume my proper place as her geek.

As I strode up to Domina Britt's house, the four pair of black stockings from Victoria's Secret that I was ordered to buy, lay nestled securely in the dainty little bag by my side, and another box with the Latex dress Domina Britt tried on at our last shopping trip. She didn't know I had it, but that day when I saw her try it on, I had to get it. I literally began to shake. My knees buckled as I timidly knocked on the door and waited with great anticipation for the beautiful vision to beckon me inside. Finally, after what always seems like an eternity of waiting, the door slowly swung open. I was tickled by the smell of her perfume. Just the smell of her can make me weak and helpless, but to actually behold her loveliness, with that stern look of reprobation, is more than my submissive nature can bear. I humbly entered and heard the door abruptly shut behind me. There was no going back now. Once again I was joyously imprisoned in her lair, like an insect caught in the web of a black widow. I respectfully kneeled, secretly drinking in her beauty with one sweeping glance, careful not to sustain eye contact lest I receive a stinging slap to the face for such a brazen act of disrespect. I knew from previous corrections that proper decorum dictates that a geek's focus should always be on his Mistress's feet and toes. But as any geek knows, that's not really a penance. I greeted her properly, gently placing my lips against her perfectly delicious toes, each one painted to perfection with a crimson polish.

" Don't mess them, geek! I just had them painted" Already the scolding had begun.

"I'm sorry, Mistress, I just wanted to-"

"Blow on them so they can dry, geek." I blew a gentle breath on each toe. With every inhale I savored the heady fragrant mix of feminine foot scent and perfume.

"A perfect job for a geek," said Domina Britt with a condescending snicker. After a few moments, Mistress held out her hand. "For me?" It was less a question than a demand. I rose and handed the bag of stockings to Mistress. As I watched her examine the contents, I took in her stunning beauty. From the long, cascading locks of her lustrous hair down to the tips of her dainty toes, Domina Britt exudes a priceless femininity that's couched in womanly strength and confidence.

Her face is soft and delicately curvy, though to her geek, her look is stern and haughty, a perfect reflection of her no-nonsense attitude and the mocking contempt she has for any man who would so willingly endure such treatment and cruelty. One look into her piercing eyes will tell any geek that it's futile to resist; he might as well just hit his knees, and surrender his dignity and self-respect.

Domina Britt bent forward, her full breasts pushing against the black bra and sundress that strained to contain them. It looked as thought they could break through at any moment. The deep cleavage made me dizzy with lust. "Get into the dungeon, geek, and prepare yourself. There's plenty of housework that needs to be done." As her sharp and resonant voice pierced my manhood, she reached between my legs and grabbed my cock through my pants. "Do you have anything else for me, geek?"

"Yes, Mistress," I whimpered, barely able to breathe. "I brought you another gift, just a little something I know you wanted."

"Oh, you are precious, aren't you?" Her laugh sliced away the last vestige of my self-respect. "You're pathetic. Now get into the dungeon. I'll be in shortly." I hobbled on hands and knees toward the dungeon, my hard-on poking painfully and pitifully against the front of my pants. "And have my gift ready, geek." She laughed again.

The dungeon was dark, save for two small candles flickering on opposite ends of the room. As I hurriedly removed my clothes, I looked around Domina Britt's torture chamber. A wooden cross with chains was affixed to one wall, while a leather harness attached to the ceiling swung ominously by another wall. The innumerable paddles, whips, cuffs, clips, and clamps that decorated the walls signaled to all that many a geek and dork had been tortured in this room. I knew I was to be next.

I knelt on the carpet, naked except for the pair of wispy black panties with frilly lace that failed to suppress my now raging boner. Again, the wait was interminable. I ached to touch my cock and tease it, but refrained. If Mistress should ever catch me playing with my puny toy without permission, there would be hell to pay. Instead I passed the time by thinking of my desperate circumstances. Why did I crave such treatment? Other men, real men, were out with their ladies enjoying themselves, conducting their relationships in the way that society said it should be done: the men acting manly, the women anticipating the return of their boyfriends' or husbands' that night. Such things were not to be enjoyed by the likes of me. I was a geek, a dork, a sissy. Specimens like me were to be used and exploited by dominant and assertive women. I was abused and beaten, with Domina Britt tightly gripping on my nutsack and dignity. It was all so sick and perverted, but alas, so right.

The door to the dungeon quickly swung open. Mistress glided into the room, her walk every bit assured and her commanding as her look. " You weren't touching yourself, were you, geek?' she said sternly.

"No, Mistress," I said meekly.

" It's a good thing," she said as she slowly encircled my kneeling, vulnerable body. "Because if I should ever catch you touching this puny little thing," she kicked at my stiff dick for emphasis, "you know what would happen?"

"Yes, Mistress. You said you would cut it off."

Mistress sat in a chair before me. She looked into my eyes, her look one of dead seriousness. " That's right, geek. I'd cut it right off and make you a eunuch. Though that wouldn't be much of a change for you seeing how you're not much of a man anyway."

"Yes, Mistress," I said helplessly. And how could I not be helpless. She was so damned beautiful. Mistress had changed from the delicate sundress into an intimidating and very dangerous black ensemble: her breasts pressed against the leather bra and nearly popped out of the cups, her deep cleavage ever more pronounced; the feminine treasure that drove men to acts of desperation in their quest for even a sniff, was hidden beneath a tantalizingly small pair of black leather panties; her legs were sheathed in the lace-top, jet -black, thigh high stockings I'd brought: and her toes, those ten delicious, red - painted digits of pleasure peeked out from within the stocking and huddled together at the very edge of a pair of open-toed high heels. I was trapped by this vision, ensnared like a helpless fly in a web, waiting to be devoured by the Black Widow.

"What are you staring at, geek? This?" Mistress rubbed her delicate hand against her panty crotch. "Oh, you couldn't possibly think you'd ever get near this." She laughed. "Why, you know that geeks don't get this like real men, they just get tortured by it." . . .Continue