Khadija stood over Issa, her gloved fingers brushing lightly over his restrained body. His wrists and ankles were strapped tightly to the bed, his mouth filled with her worn socks, muffling every sound he tried to make. His wide eyes followed her movements, his chest rising and falling with quickened breaths as he awaited his fate.
Jocelyn stood nearby, silent and ready, her black maid’s uniform stark against the soft light, her gloved hands folded neatly in front of her.
“You kept secrets from me, Issa,” Khadija said softly, her voice controlled and measured. “You lied, and when I fired Jocelyn, you stayed silent. You hid from me, avoided me.”
Her words hung in the air, a calm but inescapable indictment. She circled the bed slowly, her gaze unrelenting as Issa’s muscles tensed beneath the restraints, his body bracing for whatever punishment awaited him.
“Now,” Khadija continued, “you’ll be punished. You’ll learn that there’s no hiding anything from me.”
She glanced at Jocelyn, giving her a brief nod.
Without hesitation, Jocelyn stepped forward, her movements smooth and deliberate. From the bedside table, she picked up a bottle of lubricant, squeezing a generous amount into her gloved hand. The slick sound of the liquid hitting the latex sent a shudder through Issa’s body, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.
Khadija remained still, her eyes locked on Issa’s face, watching his reaction as Jocelyn knelt between his legs. The knowledge of what was about to happen—what Khadija had commanded—filled the room with a thick, oppressive tension.
“Do what I caught you doing that day,” Khadija instructed, her voice low but clear. “But keep him on edge. No release.”
Jocelyn nodded and moved with quiet efficiency. Her gloved fingers pressed against Issa’s entrance, slick with lubricant, and slowly, deliberately, she worked her fingers inside. Issa’s body jerked involuntarily, a muffled groan escaping from behind the gag as Jocelyn’s fingers stretched him, her touch precise and controlled.
Khadija moved closer, leaning over him, her gloved hand gripping his face firmly as she forced him to meet her gaze. “You’ll stay like this,” she whispered, her voice steady and cold, “right on the edge, until I decide you’ve suffered enough.”
Her other hand slid over his mouth, pressing down on the gag, silencing his whimpers completely. The latex pressed against his skin, and the scent filled his nostrils, suffocating him in the unmistakable reminder of her control.
Jocelyn’s hand moved with precision, her fingers pressing deeper, her other hand sliding down to grip Issa’s shaft. Her strokes were slow at first, deliberately teasing, pushing him closer to the edge. Issa’s body reacted instinctively, his hips bucking slightly, desperate for the release he knew he would never be allowed. Just as he reached the brink, just as his body tensed with the impending climax, Jocelyn stopped.
Issa’s entire body jerked, a muffled cry of frustration caught behind the gag as Jocelyn’s hand stilled completely, denying him the release his body so desperately craved. Khadija’s grip on his face tightened slightly, her expression calm as she watched him struggle against the mounting tension in his body.
“This is what happens when you hide things from me,” Khadija murmured, her voice unwavering. “There’s no hiding now, Issa. No escape.”
Jocelyn resumed her work, bringing him back to the edge once more. Each time he neared release, she would stop, pulling back just before he could experience any relief. His body twitched with every denial, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he lay helpless under their control.
Minutes passed in agonizing cycles, each wave of frustration worse than the last. His muffled cries grew more desperate, but Khadija’s hand remained firmly over his mouth, the latex suffocating his pleas, keeping him in the state of silent, desperate submission.
Jocelyn’s hands continued their torment, expertly denying him time and again. Each stroke, each precise movement, was designed to push him to his limits without giving him the release he so craved.
And still, Khadija watched, her grip on his face never loosening, the smell of latex filling his senses as she leaned in close, her voice a quiet whisper in his ear. “You’ll learn that you belong to me now. Everything you do, everything you feel—it’s mine to control.”
Issa’s body convulsed with the need for release, his muscles trembling as the relentless cycle of denial wore him down. His mind, clouded with the overwhelming mixture of pleasure and frustration, could focus on nothing but the unyielding presence of Khadija and Jocelyn.
Just as Issa’s mind started to lose track of time, when the constant edging had pushed him to the limits of his endurance, Khadija pulled back slightly, meeting Jocelyn’s eyes.
“We’re not finished,” she said quietly, her voice dark with intent.
Jocelyn nodded, continuing her slow, deliberate strokes, bringing Issa to the edge once more before stopping again, leaving him trembling in agonized frustration.
Khadija remained by his side, her eyes cold, her gloved hands still firmly over his face, forcing him to inhale the scent of latex with every breath. His body twitched violently, every muscle straining against the restraints as his denied pleasure built into a torturous crescendo.
But there would be no release.
Not yet.
The room was thick with tension, each sound amplified by the silence between breaths. Jocelyn’s gloved hand moved with mechanical precision, slick with lubricant as she stroked Issa’s shaft. Her other hand remained buried deep inside his ass, his sphincter completely closed around her wrist. Issa’s body strained against the bindings, his muffled groans echoing through the room, his entire world reduced to the unbearable sensations overwhelming him from every angle.
Khadija, standing by the bed, watched with a cool, calculating gaze, her latex-gloved hands folded in front of her as Jocelyn followed her every command. The power in the room was hers, entirely. Issa’s eyes flicked up to her, desperate, begging, but she remained unmoved.
Suddenly, Khadija stepped forward, her heels clicking against the floor as she circled to the head of the bed. Without a word, she grabbed his head firmly, her gloved fingers digging into his hair as she pulled him upward slightly. Her other hand slid over his face, the latex cool against his flushed skin. She covered his mouth completely, her palm pressing down, muffling his whimpers of frustration.
Issa’s eyes widened, and his body jerked at the new sensation—the overwhelming presence of her gloved hand smothering his face. The smell of latex filled his nostrils, and the sensation was undeniable: his mother’s authority, the feel of the slick material against his skin, was now inextricably linked to the torment and pleasure coursing through his body.
Khadija leaned in close, her breath warm against his ear, her tone calm but edged with dominance.
“Do you feel that, Issa?” she whispered, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be controlled. To be helpless.”
Issa’s muffled groan was barely audible beneath her gloved hand, his body twitching as Jocelyn’s strokes along his shaft grew firmer, quicker. But just as he neared the edge, just as his body tensed in anticipation of release, Jocelyn stopped, pulling her hand away. His muscles clenched involuntarily, his entire body screaming for the relief that had been denied once again.
Khadija’s hand remained firmly over his mouth, pressing down, holding him in place as his muffled cries of frustration filled the air. She smiled slightly, the power she held over him palpable.
“I’m going to make some changes,” Khadija continued, her voice soft but deliberate. “Changes to this house. The basement will be modified. And there will be a wardrobe of outfits—just for you.”
Her fingers pressed harder against his face, ensuring that the latex smell was all he could breathe in, making him associate it with every denied climax, every inch of control she now held over him.
“But I won’t give you the details just yet,” she said, her voice almost teasing. “You don’t need to know everything. Not now.”
Issa’s mind reeled. The smell of the gloves, the pressure of her hand, the constant edging and denial—it was overwhelming. His world was closing in, reduced to nothing but the sensations of his mother’s dominance and Jocelyn’s relentless touch. And yet, deep down, there was a part of him that craved it, that needed this punishment, this control.
“You will live your new life in secret,” Khadija continued, her voice calm, steady. “No one will know. Not your sisters. No one. It will be hidden. Just like this.”
As if to drive the point home, she nodded to Jocelyn, who resumed her movements. Her gloved hand gripped his shaft once more, stroking it slowly at first, then faster, pushing him to the brink again. Issa’s entire body tensed, every nerve on edge, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts as he teetered on the cusp of release.
But once again, Jocelyn stopped.
His body convulsed, his muscles trembling violently as the denied climax left him gasping for air. His howls of frustration were smothered beneath Khadija’s hand, his cries trapped beneath the latex as she held him in place, making sure he had no escape from the torment they were inflicting on him.
Khadija’s smile widened, her voice a soft coo as she whispered into his ear. “This is what you deserve, Issa. For lying to me. For hiding from me.”
They continued this way for what felt like hours, though it was just over one. Jocelyn would work him expertly, her gloved hand moving with precision, bringing him to the very edge of release time and time again, only to stop at the last moment, denying him the climax his body so desperately craved. Each time, Issa’s cries grew louder, more desperate, only to be muffled by the unyielding presence of Khadija’s gloved hand over his mouth.
It was a cruel dance, and Khadija orchestrated it with quiet precision.
As the hour neared its end, Issa’s body was trembling uncontrollably, his mind a haze of frustration and unmet desire. He had lost count of how many times he had been denied, how many times Jocelyn’s hand had stopped just before the breaking point. His world had shrunk to nothing but the sensations of latex, lube, and the constant torment of being edged without release.
Finally, Khadija leaned in once more, her hand still firmly over his mouth as she whispered, “One last time.”
She gave Jocelyn a final nod.
Jocelyn’s hand moved faster now, her strokes firm and unrelenting, pushing him to the brink one last time. Issa’s entire body tensed, his muscles clenching, his breath catching in his throat as he felt the impending release build, hotter and more intense than ever before.
But just as he reached the peak, just as his body screamed for release, Jocelyn stopped once more, pulling her hand away completely.
Issa’s entire body convulsed, his muffled scream of frustration filling the room as his climax was stolen from him one last time. His chest heaved, his body trembling violently beneath the bindings as the final denial hit him with unbearable intensity.
Khadija removed her hand from his mouth slowly, watching with satisfaction as his chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. She stepped back, her gloved fingers flexing as she regarded him with a calm, calculating gaze.
“You’ll get nothing from me until I decide you deserve it,” she said quietly, her voice laced with finality.
Without another word, Khadija and Jocelyn left the room, leaving Issa bound, trembling, and utterly denied. The door clicked shut behind them, and the silence that followed was suffocating.
Chapter 12: The Secrets Revealed
The next morning, Khadija stood alone in her study, Issa’s laptop glowing softly on the desk. The house was quiet, as it usually was at this hour, the maids already at their tasks. Khadija had spent the night exploring Issa’s digital world—his darkest desires laid bare in meticulous folders. She wasn’t shocked anymore. What had started as an investigation into Issa’s hidden life had shifted into something deeper. The scenes on the screen didn’t just reflect Issa’s fantasies anymore. They reflected her own growing appetite.
Videos of strict dominants edging their submissives to the brink, keeping them trapped in a constant cycle of pleasure and denial—Khadija had watched with more focus than she had intended. Her body reacted to the precision of the power exchange. The latex, the restraints, the submission—it wasn’t just about Issa now. It was about what she wanted.
A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts.
“Come in,” Khadija called, closing the laptop with a soft click.
Jocelyn entered, dressed in her usual black maid’s uniform, surgical gloves pulled tightly over her hands, perfectly fitted, reaching up to her forearms. The sterile look of her gloves contrasted with the opulent room, yet Jocelyn wore them like a second skin.
“I’ve been going through Issa’s files,” Khadija said, gesturing toward the laptop. “It’s… thorough, to say the least.”
Jocelyn nodded, stepping closer. “He’s always had these desires, even before what happened.”
Khadija leaned back in her chair, the black latex gloves she still wore clinging to her skin. “It’s clear he’s been hiding this for years. But this is no longer about just him. I’ve decided to make some changes—permanent ones.”
Jocelyn’s eyebrow raised slightly, intrigue flashing across her features. “What kind of changes, madam?”
Khadija’s fingers tapped lightly on the desk. “The basement. I’m going to renovate it into something private. A space where Issa’s needs—and mine—can be fulfilled. I want your help.”
Jocelyn smiled, stepping forward with a more eager glint in her eye. “Of course, madam. What do you have in mind?”
“I’ve seen enough of his files to know what excites him,” Khadija began, her voice thoughtful but firm. “We’ll start with restraints—something versatile. A suspension rig, a bondage chair, things that will keep him in place for longer sessions.”
Jocelyn nodded, her hands folding in front of her as she listened carefully.
“And medical themes,” she added. “He’s always responded to those. A gyno chair, for example. It plays into the vulnerability, the clinical aspect of control. He finds that particularly exciting.”
Khadija’s interest piqued. “A gyno chair… yes, that would give me full control over him.”
Jocelyn leaned in slightly. “It also feeds into his craving for submission in ways that make him feel exposed—more than just physical restraint. It’s psychological. It gives you absolute dominance.”
Khadija paused, weighing the possibilities. “Good. We’ll include that.”
“The basement will need to be fully stocked,” Khadija said, her voice low but filled with intent. “Latex is a must—gloves, hoods, full suits. I’ve seen how he reacts to it. We’ll make sure the room is filled with those textures. But I also want more than that. I want scents, odors that will linger on him long after the sessions end. The smell of sweat, but not just that…”
She paused, her voice lowering as she added, “Piss, spit—something that he can taste and smell, something he can’t escape. Something primal.”
Jocelyn nodded, her own excitement evident as she absorbed every word. “The connection between smell and submission—it’s powerful, madam. We’ll make sure he’s overwhelmed by it.”
“And,” Khadija continued, her voice steady, “each time he gets a release, it will be conditioned. He will associate pleasure with specific things—pain, latex, the smell of piss, my spit. Maternal elements too, I think.”
“Maternal?” Jocelyn asked, intrigued.
“Yes,” Khadija replied. “He’s always craved something from me, hasn’t he? Each release he’s allowed will be tied to something—my touch, my scent, or the taste of my sweat. He’ll learn to connect his pleasure with me, specifically. It’s not enough to control him physically. I want to control him mentally, emotionally.”
Jocelyn smiled, a look of approval crossing her face. “That’s perfect, madam. He’ll be yours completely.”
Khadija let the words sink in. She had already come to terms with the fact that her role was no longer about simple control. Her desires had grown alongside Issa’s, though they were not the same. This basement wasn’t just for him—it was for her. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized how deeply she craved the power it would give her.
“Good,” Khadija said finally, standing up from her chair. “We’ll make sure no one knows about this. His sisters, the other maids—none of them will be aware of what happens down there. This will be our secret.”
Jocelyn nodded, already stepping back to leave the room. “I’ll start preparing the list of what we’ll need.”
“Do that,” Khadija replied, her voice final.
As the door clicked shut, Khadija turned back to the laptop, opening it once more. The images on the screen felt different now, less like Issa’s hidden world and more like the blueprint for something far greater—something she would build, control, and revel in.
And Issa would have no idea until it was too late.
Chapter 13: The Calm Before the Storm
The morning light filtered softly through the tall windows, casting a serene glow over the house. Everything appeared normal—quiet, routine—but Khadija could feel the transformation stirring beneath the surface. She moved down the hall slowly, dressed in her usual Jalabiya, the flowing traditional fabric swaying with each step. Though her attire was casual, there was one element that stood out—her hands, still gloved in tight, black latex.
It had started with the gloves.
Ever since she had discovered Issa’s secret world, Khadija found herself unable to take them off. What had initially been a test of control—of understanding what drew Issa so deeply into submission—had become something far more personal. The sensation of the latex, the way it gripped her skin, made her feel powerful. And now, even in the simplest tasks around the house, she wore them, feeling that power linger in her every movement. She knew she would need to be careful—Jalabiya and caftan dresses allowed her to conceal many things, but gloves were more conspicuous.
In the kitchen, the maids carried on their work as usual, none of them noticing anything amiss. But soon, the changes would be impossible to ignore. She had already begun preparations for the basement renovation, but Issa would remain in the dark. For now, he was kept under control—his mind and body locked in a state of constant need, while the rest of the household continued their lives unaware.
She slipped into her study...
