My Journey to Submission Pt. 06 by Antipater999

Ellen was a skilled dominant, and she guided my journey to submission brilliantly — gradually pushing my limits, expanding my horizons, deepening my adoration for her. For most of my first year, I never doubted our new dynamic was one that I would adjust to and even come to feel grateful for.

She was strict, but always fair. She simply held me to the same exacting standards to which she’d always held herself.

Usually, she corrected my mistakes with a sharp word and a swat or two with her crop, but there were times when she took me to the dungeon for harsher punishment. For these sessions, she gave me a safe word (pineapple), although I was too proud ever to use it. And she was very good about aftercare — comforting me, praising the way I’d endured my pain and degradation, helping me understand and correct the behavior that had led to it.

There were many things about submission I found surprisingly pleasant. For example, when she had me sit on the floor next to her instead of on the furniture, it was often not to punish me, but to pat my head or stroke my hair while she praised me for some good behavior or other.

She continued to take me into her confidence, consulting me frequently about various questions or problems that she had. (I remained, let’s not forget, one of the most influential men in Washington, so I did know a few useful things, and she appreciated my ability — not just my willingness — to help her out on important matters.)

I also greatly enjoyed our rituals, especially kneeling at her feet and polishing her boots on Sunday evenings, because it provided a welcome distraction from any worries that I might have about the upcoming week.

I was even beginning to find that chastity had its upsides. Since I could no longer fuck, or even jerk off, whenever I wanted, I became sensitized to any sexual attention I did receive. Though she took off my cage most evenings, sometimes she she’d keep me locked up overnight for her own amusement. She’d tell me how attractive she found me in my cage, and she’d talk about keeping me locked up permanently, showing me photos from chastity forums of men who’d had their penises pierced to make their lockup more secure, or squashed into smaller and smaller cages, and so forth.

At the time, I found these images horrific. Little did I realize… But that’s a much later story.

Ellen turned into an incurable tease. When we were at cocktail parties or out shopping, she’d find excuses to brush by me and give my cage a little tug, and my knees would buckle. When we were chatting with friends, she’d make double-entendres using words like “lock” and “key” and “freedom.” Later, she’d mock me for my embarrassment, often while edging me to the point of insanity.

For the most part, though, our lifestyle was very similar to that of most vanilla couples, just as it had been when I was dominant.

***********

Early on, Ellen gave me some advice, which turned out to be invaluable. She told me to channel the energy I no longer expended on sex into work. Following this advice, I put into action an extremely clever and profitable scheme, one I’d had in mind for a long time but could never muster the time and energy needed to execute.

I won’t bore you with a lot of technical details, but the short story is this:

Every year that a pharmaceutical company holds a patent on a drug, it can charge monopoly prices, often resulting in billions of dollars in excess profits. That’s why, for example, Pfizer took a giant hit to the bottom line when its patent on Viagra expired. But under U.S. law, the 17-year protection period starts when the patent is granted, which could be years before the drug is actually approved for sale by the FDA.

My scheme was simple: We’d get the FDA to change the rules for certain drugs so that the patent clock started ticking only when the drug came on the market. Which drugs? Well, whichever ones that an informal working group decided. Who was on the working group? Well, me, together with a few close friends from Congress, the White House, and industry.

If I pulled it off, I’d have the entire $300 billion American pharmaceutical industry by the balls.

Success required me to call in every favor owed me on Capitol Hill and in the Executive Branch, but I soon had pharma execs lined up outside my office waiting to write me retainer checks. My Ivy league-educated associates worked overtime to draft the required regulatory language. (Under U.S. law, a government regulation can’t refer to a specific drug like “Viagra.” It has to say something vague, like “certain blue pills that make your dick hard.”)

The culmination of these efforts was a call out of the blue from Pharma Douche.

“Mister Pharma Douche,” I said, in a friendly and confident tone, when I saw the name on the screen of my iPhone. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ll cut to the chase,” he said. “I’ve heard about your scheme, and I want in.”

“Scheme? Sorry, you’ll have to be more specific,” I replied.

“Don’t fuck around. I have three products in Phase 3 testing, and I need their patents extended. They should qualify for your program.”

“Hmmm…” I said, feigning puzzlement. “I think you may have been misinformed. I’m not aware of any kind of program. I’ve been to a few meetings about patents, but…”

“‘Been to a few meetings’, my ass!” he shouted. “You’re organizing them. Everyone says so. You can’t freeze me out.”

“I’m sure the FDA would dispute that I’m organizing anything,” I said. “But I do know about a meeting tomorrow. I’ll text you the details, and you’ll have the same chance to comment as everyone else. I’ll even forward a draft of the rules under discussion.”

“A draft? How many pages?”

“Dunno. Six, seven hundred maybe.”

“Bullshit. I can’t have my lawyers read seven hundred pages of government gobbledygook by tomorrow. I’ll send you the details, and you can work my products in.”

“I’d love to help,” I said sincerely. “But it would be highly improper, since you and I don’t have a business relationship. If you named us as your Washington reps, we could maybe work something out.”

“You son-of-a-bitch, you set this up. OK, fine. I’ll hire you, but you’ll have to prove yourself. You deliver on this, then we can talk about a representation deal.”

“Wow,” I replied, in a shocked voice. “I’m not sure how to respond to that. As I understand it, you’ve already incurred an awful lot of legal exposure. Are you sure you want to propose a highly illegal success fee contract?”

I smiled, as I heard him seethe on the other end of the line. “What would it take to make it legal?” he finally asked.

“Well, we work on a strict billing basis. So I’d imagine a retainer up front. Maybe two thousand hours at eight hundred an hour, half up front… Obviously, we’ll provide full transparency over hours and expenses, and we’ll…”

“Fuck you,” he interrupted. “You’ll have a check for eight hundred thousand at close of business. So get to goddamned work, and don’t even think about telling me you need to wait for the check to clear.”

“Of course not. I’m quite sure you value PharmaCo’s reputation much too highly for that.” I was perfectly happy to allow him this shred of dignity. After all, Pharma Douche was now my most lucrative client.

***********

As you can imagine, I was feeling pretty jaunty when I arrived home that evening, despite the late hour. I walked through the front door and went upstairs to take off my clothes, and a few minutes later I found Ellen in the family room, engrossed in a movie on the TV. I waited with my head bowed, and after a moment, she hit “pause” and snapped her fingers.

By this time, I’d come to adore kneeling at her feet, and the snap of her fingers ordering me to do so was one of the most welcome sounds I knew. She stroked my head for a minute before putting my collar around my neck, and I positively purred with contentment.

“You seem quite peppy,” she noticed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d worry that some new woman at the office has caught your eye. Some dewy-eyed young research associate, perhaps?”

I was taken aback, since our new lifestyle had, in fact, had the desired effect of driving even the slightest thought of other women from my mind. “Of course not, Mistress,” I answered, looking up into her eyes unbidden. “You know I’m happy to have you holding my key.”

She smiled at me. “I’m just kidding,” she said, gently nudging my head back down into its proper position. So tell me why you’re so happy? I mean, other than having the perfect Mistress to serve?”

“Pharma Douche called out of the blue today,” I answered. “He got wind of my deal, and he tried to weasel his way in. I let him squirm for a while, and then I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. And he didn’t. The check’s in the mail, and we should be able to bill him for close to a million over the next six months.”

“Wow, that’s fantastic. Congratulations.” She looked at her watch. “It’s already ten o’clock, but if you’d like, I’ll allow you to take me to Fiola Mare tomorrow to celebrate. How about that?”

“I’d like that very much,” I answered, and she gave my hair a couple more affectionate strokes. “May I go wash up, Mistress?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked.

Wow.

Between my elation at my victory over Pharma Douche, and my contentment at kneeling before my perfect wife, I’d somehow forgotten about my chastity cage. “Would you please unlock me, Mistress?” She smiled, then took the brass key from her bracelet and slid it into my padlock.

Click. I was free until the next morning. “Thank you, Mistress,” I said.

“I’m very proud of you. Now, you go may relax a bit before bed. You’ve earned it.” She gave me final pat on the head, and my heart soared with her approval and affection.

As I stood up and walked to the stairs, I heard her movie resume on the TV.

***********

It only took me a few minutes to wash up, but when I was done, I stood in the shower for a while, letting the hot water massage the day’s stress from my neck and shoulders. Bliss. I closed my eyes, and without thinking, I put a squirt of shower gel onto my hand and worked up a lather in my pubes. After a moment, my hand moved involuntarily to my cock, and I began to squeeze gently and rhythmically.