Submissive for a compliment (first session)

I have never been good at handling compliments. In my daily life, modesty aside, they are not scarce, although they are not a daily occurrence either. Still, my tendencies lead me to "try not to stand out," return the compliment, or dismiss it with phrases like "it's really nothing" or "it was just luck," but there are compliments for which I would give anything, and which I carry (the few I have received) in my heart: the praises of a true master.

—I don’t like people getting into my life, you know?— he had positioned me on all fours next to his bed, on his right side, subtly pushed away from between his legs, I listened attentively while he continued looking at his phone, absent-mindedly running his other hand through my hair, as if I were a dog— I already have a girlfriend, and I don’t need a boyfriend, so let’s make your place clear, okay?

I couldn’t even respond adequately. He turned his gaze toward me, gripped my hair forcefully, and nodded with my head. He looked satisfied, and I was delighted. He stood up as if nothing had happened and began searching for something in the closet.

—My name is Uriel, which doesn’t matter to you because to you I am "master"— he pulled a box from his closet and emptied its contents onto the floor: a wide variety of ropes, toys, collars, and various utensils rolled out between him and me— and your name does not interest me because it’s probably the only thing about you that I don’t plan to use. Now choose 3 things here that you think I would like and put away the rest. Let’s see if you’re as stupid as you look.

Wow, that hurt. Did he really think I looked stupid in general? Was I going to let a guy who appeared out of nowhere talk to me like that? A drop of liquid pre-marked the floor in response. It’s not that I didn’t have pride, or that it didn’t hurt to hear it; it was a dark and complicated feeling in the depths of my chest that prevented me from speaking while at the same time intensely excited me.

He probably didn’t see me as "stupid" in the eyes of others, but in the eyes of a master, my little facade of a regular guy had crumbled in seconds. Deep down, I knew he was right; I must have seemed so, since from the bottom of my being, I felt there was something that made me inferior to him. Was I stupid? Was it how I looked? At that moment, I couldn’t care less. My new master had given me a task, and I had to focus on fulfilling it.

The first thing I took was the collar and leash, which I assumed would count as "one" since they were connected. My master had treated me like a dog the moment I entered; I assumed I had to complete the concept. The other two objects were not so easy to choose there were dildos of various sizes, skirts and thongs, half-burned candles, a mask, handcuffs, and... I sighed internally, something told me it was the right decision, and that it would have been better to make a mistake.

—You’re not a complete useless one, then— he ran his hand over my cheek and slapped me lightly a couple of times— put it all on, hand me the key, and get down at my feet.

He returned to his phone, and I concentrated on trying to lower my erection. Was I really going to do it? What if something went wrong later? With a knot in my throat and a small click, the chastity cage closed, sealing my last escape route. As best I could, I put on the collar and placed the handle of the leash and the small whip on my back as I crouched down at his feet.

Several minutes passed, I estimate, without him doing anything else. I could hear him typing on his screen and occasionally saw his sneakers moving, but my forehead was almost touching the floor and I refused to move, so I couldn’t see much more. The knot in my throat grew with each second, and the urge to speak and ask him anything became unbearable, but I managed to resist. He had ordered me to simply lie at his feet; if I had to do anything else, he would let me know if he deemed it necessary. Outside, in everyday life, I had to reason everything. In that place, my job was not to think, just to follow orders.

—Well, it seems you’re not a novice accessory— that wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t something worth interrupting. Suddenly, I felt a weight on my head. I had to make an effort to keep my forehead from touching the floor— let’s make this quick. Right now, I don’t have time to train you properly, at least for now, so you will come when I call you, leave your clothes at the entrance and put on the collar. You keep the cage on; I’ll see when I take it off, and above all, you always follow orders. No buts, no questions. Whether I tell you to suck me off here, as I’m sure you’re wanting, or I tell you to go out without underwear and in a skirt to your school. Are we clear?

—Y-yes, master.

My answer came out trembling and laden with nervousness, but still too quickly to think it through and too deeply for me to believe I could have answered anything else.

I felt his hand take the leash and whip, as a slight tremor began to course through my body, although I didn’t know if it was from nerves, fear, or excitement. Probably a lascivious mix of the three.

—You know what to do, right?— Before I could ask anything, a quick, firm lash crossed my back. Before I could process what happened, a loud and clear "one" came out of my lips. I was inexperienced, yes, but not so stupid as it seemed... or so I hoped— not bad, I suppose, although I didn’t hear you thank me. How do you say when someone looks at someone so pathetic and decides to have a little fun with them?

—Thank you m...— the new lash was just as sudden as the first, though perhaps a little more painful. I had to clench my teeth to avoid letting out a small scream, and as soon as the pain allowed me to speak, I hurried to respond— Two! Thank you, master.

I did expect a response; I soon realized that I was just wasting my time thinking. The lashes fell at irregular intervals, without order or preference. There was a moment when I could swear I heard him typing on his phone. Was he ignoring me? Did I matter less than his conversation on the screen? Amidst numbers and "thank you, master," the realization hit me: yes, I mattered less. And, somehow, that made me feel better. I mattered less and yet he had me at his feet, for however little I mattered, it mattered.

I probably reached around 50, with my back marked and my teeth sore from clenching so much. Pain and I didn’t get along very well, but my master wanted it that way, and I was sure it could have been much worse. It had been painful, yes, but not strong. It was pure technique.

—You’ve held up very well— he lowered his feet from my head and took my hair to make me look directly at him. That sight left me enchanted. My face, red from the pain and with a couple of tears escaping, must have seemed to him quite amusing because as soon as he saw me, he started laughing and released his grip on my hair. His clear and innocent laughter, his carefree smile, and his eyes shining with genuine amusement made me think the world was there only for the amusement of people like him— come on, I’ve left your back marked, and you look like you’re about to apologize. What a good dog I’ve got!

His laughter continued a bit longer, which gave me enough time to fill myself with happiness and "pride." Had that been a compliment? Would there be other people who, not being submissive, would take it as such? To this day, I still don’t know, but at that moment it didn’t matter. I had made my master happy, and in that moment, I knew that feeling was better than any other.