OK, I admit, it, it is all my fault. I got myself into this situation and it has all gotten rather out of hand. Gloriously so I admit, but still out of hand.
It seemed like such a good idea at the time. She was quite the sexiest thing I had ever seen. Barely four foot six in her flat shoes she was straight out of an Indian picture book. Lovely tanned skin, huge brown eyes and a wide mouth that always seemed to be smiling at me. Thick black hair that fell all the way to the upper slopes of her tight little buttocks, and a waist that was so tiny it looked as if it had been squeezed by giant hands. And where those mystic hands had been squeezing the surplus material had moved upwards to equip her with generous breasts and down to form womanly hips just made for handling.
We had hit it off immediately, and soon enough we had moved from the tables of coffee shops and restaurants into the warm bedrooms of our homes. And just as my naughty mind expected she was both welcoming of mind and tight of body in a way that drove me to distraction.
In a weak moment I confessed certain fantasies to her. Quiet, submissive fantasies that soon had her moving from being under my pounding body to her being on top riding me mercilessly, her tiny hands holding down my arms in a manner that even my gym toned body found hard to throw off.
Soon enough she realised that I had a willing and surprisingly skilled tongue, and as any submissive will tell you, no matter how muscular you are and how tiny your mistress is, once they are settled on your face there is absolutely no way of throwing them off until they want to get off. And when she discovered how much she enjoyed it, she soon displayed very little urge to get off.
All of which brings me to now. Here and now. She is dressed in perfectly normal everyday clothes. A tight little sweater that comes almost to her chin, well tailored trousers that, when she moves, cling to her arse in a manner that makes me go weak at the knees. The look was completed by tiny little ankle boots with kitten heels that click-clack when she walks on any hard surface.
She has refused to embrace the ‘dress like a dominant’ school of thought, wearing either normal clothes or nothing at all. I am down on my knees in front of her stark naked. There is something about being naked before a completely clothed woman that makes you feel even more submissive. More forced into your place, as if you are not worth the effort of her part, you are that insignificant.
In her hands she is holding something I both dread and desire. A thick black leather collar with a huge stainless steel buckle. The matching leash sat on the seat next to her.
She gave me her widest smile and beckoned to me. In the face of that smile I was putty in her hands, and rock hard between my legs. I shuffled closer to her and rested my head against her thigh as if I was a huge, friendly beast. The smile never left her lips as she reached out tiny hands that slipped the warm black collar about my throat. Dextrous little fingers slipped tongue into hasp and pulled.
The whisper of leather through the hasp made me almost cry out as I felt it pulling tight about my neck and my last dregs of willpower to resist her faded away.
The snap of the leash being applied brought me sharply back to reality. Well, back to the reality I seemed to be encountering at that moment. A slightly skewed reality, but one of my own doing and one that I admitted I was enjoying.
She rose smoothly to her feet and started to walk around the room, tugging on my leash every time she felt I was lagging behind. Her perfect legs swung in an easy rhythm as she walked. Anyone looking in would have been amazed at what they saw. A tiny fully dressed Indian girl with long flowing hair walking around the room with a massively muscled man at the end of her leash.
She pulled me to a halt with a sharp tug of my leash, then as I waited she lifted one leg in the air and swung it over my broad back. Before I could react or brace myself she was astride me as if I were her pony. Her legs grasped me tightly about the waist. She gave a quick kick back with the heels of her boots and I moved swiftly and smoothly forward feeling more submissive than I had ever thought possible. She weighed next to nothing on my back and I moved smoothly around the room, her thighs squeezing me tightly as she rode, occasionally tapping my flanks with the end of the leash and spurring me on with her boot heels. A deep, dark part of me wondered whether she had thought about getting tiny spurs, or whether the riding was a wild thought of the moment.
After three circuits of the room she slipped off me and stroked my hair as if riding your lover on a leash was the most normal thing in the world. Before I could speak or recover my senses she gave my leash another tug and I was scrambling after her. I got a fleeting image of her hand reaching out for the doorknob then I flushed a dark shade of red as I heard cheers and I was being led from the room.
There was applause and cat-calls as I was led into a room of her classmates, her friends, her peers. Moments later I was surrounded by Indians and Asian or every hue and size, from tiny to vast, and every one of them seemed to want to stroke the man-pet on the leash. And still my lover was wearing the widest smile you can imagine while she led me in amongst that gathering.
I was thinking of rising, of running, of getting out of the situation before it got even further out of control. A hand of dancing fingers flickered across my manhood where it bobbed and delighted in the perversity of the situation. Of all the people in the room, only my lover was dressed plainly in clothes that would not look out of place in the street. All the others were dressed in their sexiest best.
Onward she led me until we were standing in a space between the furniture, Silken ribbons ran in lines across the space, two running across my path, two running to and from me. I found myself standing within the square they marked out on the floor, and for a moment the sound of the cheering and clapping dropped.
Tiny hands darted out and grasped my wrists and ankles, pulling them deftly until each over the point at which the long ribbons crossed. I got a glimpse of extra ribbons and before I knew it little fingers were quickly making my limbs fast to the tight ribbons on the floor and I was tied to the floor down on all fours.
My tiny lover unsnapped my leash, slipped off my collar and turned to face me, her smile wider than ever. I looked up helplessly, my eyes drinking in her legs in their tightly tailored trousers, the tiny waist and the gentle slopes of her breasts. I was turned on and cowed all at the same time. Involuntarily I lurch towards her and found the ribbons that held me their prisoner were far more efficient than I had expected, and I really was pinned to the spot by them.
There were gales of laughter as they saw me try to pull away from my bonds. I had to try, it was part of the submissive creed, to be seen to try and break free even when you are sure there is no chance of success.
I looked back up and I saw my tiny Asian lover had in her arms a bundle of cloth. Cloth with a terrifyingly furry look to it. She lifted one part of the pile towards me and I saw it had a face. A very doggie face and I guessed my immediate fate. I could see a tail hanging down that told me all I needed to know about the extent of the costume.
A handful of the Indian girls sprang forward and before I could say anything the heap of material was being unfurled above me and was descending towards me. I managed a brief glimpse of the mask before it was slipped about my head and I felt something pressing against my lips. Padding kept it tightly in place and I could feel the rest of the fabric rolling along my spine and flapping down over my limbs. Something touched my arse, and I let out a squeal when what I presumed was the tail was pressed firmly but slowly into my anus. As my mouth opened, what I quickly found was a gag slipped between my lips and swiftly expanded to fill my mouth.
I desperately turned my head in time to see the furry brown cloth was covering my back, and as I watched deft little fingers untied the knot that held my left ankle, took a firm grip on my limb and lifted it sharply off the ground. My whole body tilted alarmingly and I felt soft cloth wrapping itself about my leg. My knee hit the floor and as I desperately worked on regaining my balance I felt my other leg being similarly treated and I realised I was now standing on my knees, my feet held up by my buttocks by the costume.
Too late to fight back I realised what was happening. My vision was suddenly full of smiling faces and waves of long swirling black hair above bewitchingly dark eyes and I watched helpless to resist as those tiny hands untied my wrists and bent them up towards my shoulders. I was being bitchsuited and there was not a damn thing I could do about it. I watched and felt the soft material being wrapped about my arms, and as I relaxed I felt its tight embrace hold them firmly in place.
As I felt cool fingers touch my raging manhood I looked down my body to see it dangled through a hole in the costume in a realistic fashion, the long furry edges of the fitting caressing it in a horrifyingly arousing fashion. Every step I took the fluffy fur that covered the costume would stimulate my manhood and drive me to absolute distraction.
As quickly as they had started, they had finished. They all stood back, and my tiny Indian lover stepped forward again, stooped low giving me a glorious view of her tight little breasts and slipped that evil but oh so sexy collar back about my throat and pulled it tight.
I heard the leash being snapped back into place, my lover gave it a firm tug, and I set off behind her again, more helpless and submissive than I had ever been made before. Once again there were cheers and shouts from the assembled group as she walked me around the room.
It took me a few moments to realise why her glorious arse and legs looked even more enticing than ever, and I realised she had swapped her tiny heels for spike heeled black patent items that added inches to her height and gave her the sort of walk that made grown men go weak at the knees and hard at the groin.
A door swung open and suddenly I was being led into a bigger room. A hall. And there were people in it. People sitting on rows of raised seats like a stadium. I tried to pull back but it was too late. They could all see me, raised to their feet and applauded. My tiny Indian lover was walking me quickly forward into the limelight. She walked me out into what I could see was some sort of ring.
Every step was a mixture of terror, embarrassment and wicked arousal. I could feel the warm fur of the suit insistently caressing my raging manhood as if a hand was oh so gently teasing me, and from where I was walking I was looking up along the glorious legs of my lover in all their glory. Sheathed in their tightly tailored trousers and now exaggerated even more by her freshly donned heels, her swaying walk was doing absolutely nothing for my composure.
As we crossed the floor of the ring I realised where we were going. There was already a line of other people there. All tiny Indian figures with long hair, big smiles and gloriously tanned complexions. And in every hand there was a leash, and at the end of every leash and figure very like me. The colour of the furs may have varied, but every figure was clearly very male, with a tormented manhood dangling from each bitchsuit for all to see.
We took our place at the end of the line, and our ‘owners’ all bowed towards a judges table and we all awaited our fate and whatever competition was planned for us. I pressed myself up against the leg of my lover and looked longingly up at her. She looked down at me and smiled. Somehow that made it all alright and I started to look forward to my fate.